Generalized figures occupy a somewhat strange and surreal landscape; recognizable in ways but always feeling a bit out of reach; like a dream you can't quite remember. The figures go about their business, unconcerned with the viewer, but oddly unconcerned with each other as well. There's a sense of calm and isolation, but also an oppressive heat from the warm colors occupying the top 2/3s of the canvas. An eye stares at the viewer from just below what seems to be the sun...but is that a sun? If so what are the other two red orbs in the sky? As the viewer we're not entirely sure where we stand. Are we part of the scene on the other side of the pool mirroring the standing white figure? Are we voyeurs hidden in the surrounding foliage; a potential danger to the exposed figure? Are we disembodied beings invisible to the figures? Two are or appear to be toweling dry but they face opposite directions. The two figures lying down appear to hold hands behind the standing figure, but they also appear almost lifeless. Are the figures simply lounging or is there more to their relationship? Why are the separated by the standing figure? This painting is a great example of what I think makes my art unique and ultimately successful. I like to present a scene that can be enjoyed for aesthetic reasons, but when looking closely, narratives, relationships, and questions emerge about what the viewer is faced with. Landscapes create a setting that feels like a place you've been, but also is intangible; unable to be placed firmly in reality. I want the viewer to be attracted and then enveloped with the image, absorbed in the possibilities, and encouraged to investigate. I have my own thoughts about what the scene depicts and what each character represents, but I only want to leave bread crumbs. If I want people to think a certain way, I can tell them exactly what I want the painting to say. If I want people to truly engage, I give them bits and pieces that require threads from the viewer to connect. I want the viewer to inject a bit of themselves into the painting, this way, every time its shown or seen, it becomes something slightly new, perhaps more powerful, perhaps connecting to or informing a viewer in a unique way that brings something more important than just an image I put on a canvas.
When I am on vacation I often consider the locals you encounter. While I relax without a care in the world, they go about their everyday life. While I day-drink and absorb the sun, they're running errands like it's any normal weekday. The stark realization that paradise for some is nothing of the sort for others always makes me wonder what "paradise" really is. Is it some far off magical land where no one has a care in the world? Or is it more down to earth; something more akin to the pleasantries of everyday life? I'm not saying that we enjoy monotonous errands, illness, or minor annoyances, but would we, on the contrary, really enjoy a life without any conflict at all? Would I make art if life was perfect and I had no desire for more? Would it be any good? Are negatives required to appreciate the positives when encountered or can you appreciate perfection even if nothing ever goes wrong?
Island; Garden; Oasis; Eden is available for purchase through the Thelma Sadoff Center for the Arts during the duration of the show. Feel free to contact me with any questions.
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With the recent Natural Remedy series, titling has become a bit more of an afterthought than usual. As part of a series, the paintings have relatively formulaic titles and while that makes the "wrapping up" phase easier, it removes one element that I've typically utilized to frame the message of the painting for the viewer. I always start with a simple title; in this instance "Waiting for the Boats to Come In". At this point in the process I wasn't finished fleshing out the figures and wasn't entirely sure where the painting was ultimately headed outside of a harbor scene with figures. At this stage the title informs the scene to a degree but doesn't add a whole lot in terms of narrative or emotion. As I continued painting a few of the figures became a little more defined with the center red character taking on some elements of the boat itself. Other figures filled this sort of secondary role, filling space but remaining a bit less individualized, almost a repeating texture. The character on the right stood out from the start; a bit more front-facing with a more humanistic pose, this character breaks up the statuesque characters that almost become silhouettes. Once the center character was "finished" and "connected" to the boat, I felt a narrative begin to take hold. This felt like a more "put together" figure...one with a plan. They were all waiting for the boat but, with a matching outfit, this character was ready to sail. He knew his purpose. The other figures occupying a more secondary role wore the same kind of outfit but more plain. they were ready to board but less dedicated to the path before them. The figure on the right didn't take long to actually paint, but it was one of the last portions of the canvas I finished. Once the other figures all fell into their own groupings, this fellow stood out and I knew he'd act as the main driver behind the narrative. I reflected a bit on the original title and realized I had set up a bit of a dichotomy; on one hand you had uniformed figures standing stoically as they waited for a boat to dock. On the other you had a figure seemingly in turmoil, undressed, with its head down. A moment of serenity (or monotony) for some was a moment of existential angst and isolation for another.
Is this figure questioning getting on the boat? Is there something foreboding about the boat or where it's headed? Are the other figures accepting of this path or resigned to it? Are the others perfectly fine and this figure is in turmoil or are the other characters blindly moving forward and this figure the only one rightly considering the future? When you go from "Waiting for the Boats to Come In" to "When There's Calm in the Harbor for Many" you introduce the fact that calm for many is not for some, revealing the dichotomy between characters and informing the viewer that something is not well. Figuring out what exactly that is, though, is purposefully left vague and intended for the viewer to fill in the blanks. Do you embody the anxiety of the outlier or feel like you are one of those ready for what's coming, prepared, put together and unflustered? Are you stoic and emotionally statuesque or do you find yourself anxious for what's around the corner? Are you accepting of your current plot or constantly railing against it? Or does this painting mean something else entirely to you? Painting, for me, is about discovering truths about yourself. While I do that through painting for hours and hours, I always hope the viewers can follow along in that journey for themselves. Take a closer look at "When There's Calm in the Harbor for Many" and let me know how you connect to its themes and imagery. I haven't painted big in a while. Ya there's been a 4x5' painting here, a 4x3' there. I did a 30x40" commission and a 30' mural and have something around 8x6' in the works (more on that later), but compared to the 5x5' painting-per-week I was doing during the pandemic, the large-scale stuff has been few and far between. I think that's why these latest two have been so fun. Started about two weeks ago I built these canvases from scratch and turned my garage into a studio for the weekend. I wanted to continue the Natural Remedy series in a new form and knew I wanted to start with a light and dark theme for the first two large-scale additions to the series.
The paintings are about done now...just a few more details and couple hours of staring before I'll be convinced. I'll post final images and more details but you can plan on checking these and a slew of other paintings out at Cafe Lulu starting with an opening next Friday evening for Bay View Gallery Night.
As always, contact me to get your own commission started and thanks for reading! Cheers, happy painting, and have a great Memorial Day weekend. It's not the main goal when I make something, but I'd be lying if I pretended I don't still dream about walking into one of my shows and see a little red dot on every label.
I haven't quite gotten there yet but my series Natural Remedy, on view now at The Outpost, has quickly become one of the most successful (at least financially) series I've ever done. With over half the original paintings sold, a mural completed, another commission in the works, more paintings on the way, and some print sales to boot, Natural Remedy is on its second showing with no signs of slowing down. I'm happy to report the sales of three more paintings from the series, Dark Blue, Red II, and Green, through Scout Gallery. Head on over to their site at the link above to check out the rest of the series and don't hesitate contact me to get your own painting started!
The New Fashioned is a brand new spot down in the Deer District owned by a couple of the most active entrepreneurs in Milwaukee's bar scene. Responsible for places like Splash Studio, AXE MKE, Amped, and 9 Below (amongst others), to say I was honored and excited to get this wall is a bit of an understatement. I know the owners through my past employment at Splash (proudly one of the original artist/teachers/presenters) and was overjoyed to get another shot at being involved in their ever-growing and impressive collection of bar-related businesses. A tough thing about murals, for me, is that they tend to (for obvious reasons) be a bit more on the commercial side of things. Most people aren't looking to be challenged by a mural in the same way as they may expect it in the gallery setting and most business owners don't want to bring in potentially controversial or unpleasant imagery into their space (again, for obvious reasons). As the artist I understand this...but also have wanted to stay true to the art I want to create. I would love to do a big cartoon or illustration (and have submitted a number of them) but my passion lies with painting and my style is my style for a reason...it's what I prefer to do, what comes naturally, and ultimately what I'd prefer to get attention for. Natural Remedy has proven to be my most popular series so far and Field Notes (or the grid concept) seems like a perfect inspiration for a variety of subjects ideal for public display. Drinks, food, flowers, animals; Anything and everything can be organized in a grid and, at least with my style, seems to lend itself to a fun, energetic, colorful and playful composition. Further, in the instance of The New Fashioned, it presented me with the perfect pitch for a new bar looking to catch peoples eyes, support local art, and add something completely unique to their setting. Almost like a visual menu, the drink grid presents around 90 individual paintings of various drinks and their ingredients, altogether creating an expansive visual representation of the bar and, individually, providing small moments of joy and pause for passersby as they make their way to the next attraction. Like 100 little Matissian still lives, each square has its own life and personality. Keep an eye out as I finish working on this mural over the next week or two and make sure to get down to the New Fashioned ASAP to check out all the games and offerings they've got!
I started Just Relax with the sole desire to get some paint on a canvas. It had been a busy week and I had spent most of my free time prepping for more commercial projects. I had to let my mind and hand wander a bit. What began with a focus on color quickly shifted to a somewhat haunting scene; the darkness of the ghostly figure offset by the bright teal and orange of a delightful day on the beach. I saw a bit of myself in the figure though I'm unsure what the ghost whispers. I suppose we all have moments where a voice derails our positive thoughts despite reality.
About four years ago I returned from a trip to the grocery store to find that not only were we working from home for the next two weeks, but just about everything was being shut down to the public to "stop the spread" so to speak. We all know how that went. Looking back this March of 2024, I am fairly comfortable saying that Covid is in our rearview mirror for the most part, but the effects linger. Some may be in the form of closed businesses, lost jobs, or diminished friendships, while others may be as serious as lingering health effects or the loss of friends and family entirely. We all lived through a very strange few years and each of us dealt with that situation and its effects in our own way, largely alone, but all at the same time.
I'm not sure what I would do if my trek required walking through a sacred place, if I stumbled across an ancient burial ground or found remnants of a recent tragedy...but simply passing through for the sake of continued exploration seems a bit impersonal. I'm not really arguing that these explorations shouldn't take place or that it's unique to these specific endeavors (science and "progress" regularly disregard individuals or the feelings of those that came before us for better or worse)...I'm not even really criticizing the specific people who take part as most do seem aware of the spaces, history and emotions attached...but I do think there is a question of respect versus necessity and, at some point, the entire enterprise seems somewhat imbalanced.
One nice thing about a working within a series in comparison to a one-off painting is a relative lack of stress when getting started. There's no guarantee that another addition will work out similarly or as well, but when one has a good foundation to build from you've got some built-in confidence from the first mark made. The bones are there (no pun intended) and, to some extent, you put some existing pieces together along with a few new ones to create something somewhat familiar, but still fresh; A variation on a theme. Again, you never know for sure it will work...but it's a bit more like discovering something that already exists rather than creating something completely novel.
When it comes to a new, one-off painting, you're starting from scratch. Yes you have your typical tendencies, aesthetics, and techniques to fall back on, but until you find that "it factor" , for lack of a better term, that differentiates it, calls for attention, or adds weight a new painting is just colors on a canvas waiting for a reason to be there...not that there has to be a reason for that painting or that putting down paint isn't worthwhile, but, at least for me, there's an anxiety carried through a new painting until you find something that differentiates it. You never want to feel like a new painting is just a less-old derivative of something you've already done, but there's also no way to find that new thing without going through that process of pure exploration. All that said, eventually comfort turns to boredom and when a series starts to feel repetitive that's when I think you need to set it aside, end it altogether, or try something a bit out of the box that may not fit with the rest. Exploration and experimentation is what drives exciting creations. Following a set of rules for too long can hamper both the enjoyment of creating and the success of the result even if, for a time, it provides a welcome sanctuary. |
Daniel
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