Trying to paint in Big Bend today

it really hot 106'. Getting ready to paint.

Louisiana

I've wanted to paint in Louisiana for a long time. But I am usually rained out. These days were perfect.

A place called Lake Martin near Cecilia and Henderson. I saw an alligator earlier which made me a little uneasy sitting here as it grew dark.

Gulf Islands National Seashore

I used to drive here in the spring time after a winter in the NY Studio. I had an idea of Florida as a place of imagination as Wallace Stevens calls it in his poetry. The genius of the sea.

Here's a good one.

High 90's and humidity-- now we're cookin. Literally this humidity adds a significant drag on the energy level.

Asheville NC near Great Smoky Mountains National Park

I painted near here in Balsalm, NC a few years back. I've been challenged to make a painting out of all this green--and well blue.

It was pretty great up here on the Blue Ridge Parkway. I was left alone on the side of the road. This is a loop out of Asheville.

Annapolis, MD

I had to make a trip to a collectors home on the Potomac. One is still pretty much in the thick of the eastern seaboard here but here was a moment in the midst of suburbia. It is very much like Long Island here. It was a good start.

Pennsylvania Farm Road

Pennsylvania Farmland

This farm was central to my imagination as a young kid. I remembered a dead tree out on the farm road. It was good to be able to drive out there still and see in the middle of the farmland what were left of these old wind break trees.

I came by at lunch and got to sit down with everyone. The Farmer said at lunch that St Paul was able to see God in his day. Of course I see everything metaphorically which makes that an interesting statement. That’s Pennsylvania-- he has been working that farm for 75 years.

Pennsylvania

So here I am in Pennsylvania my beginning long ago and I take off from once again. 

I’ve been here a few days and driving around the different places of my childhood, the Susquehanna’s islands present as dream space and  floating memory. The farm land and blue mountains. Malcolm Cowley wrote a book of poetry, Blue Juanita. I crossed over it yesterday, a beautiful river flowing into the Susquehanna.

Taking off from The Brooklyn Bridge

Stepping off from the Brooklyn Bridge to America-- to Walt’s Open Road.

My image of the traveling figure would be going east towards Long Island in real geography. I see the bridge each day from Brooklyn and this is why it is in my Imagination and is oriented in this way.




This from a long poem I wrote,  Road Movie, 2000

setting off, once more

the BRIDGE, 

high on tip toe

on to the es--StudiO! 

there the work

of the WORLD, to be done, 

set beside EARTH 

--to keep ones feet planted 

within the place, revolvING

telling some story

yet unclear. the Indian (ME) 

the native in us all, American, 

beauty in the face of death, 

night and day, 

revolving a REPETITION

I don't paint from photos and  didn't get around to make a painting "looking for the out look that would be right..."