There's nothing quite like no plans and a weekend in the studio completely focused on art. 

Setting up shows is fun; discussing future shows is exciting; experiencing an opening is always fulfilling; but nothing replaces, at least for me, escaping the physical world during a great studio session. 

The last couple months have been busy, and while I've still made a decent amount of art (and enjoyed it), the mindset while doing it has been more on the "stave off anxiety" side of things rather than challenging myself. That doesn't mean the art has suffered...it's just different. They tend to be a bit more manic and "all over" rather than "scenes with intent" for a lack of better wording. There's an abstraction to them that is altogether different from my more typical figurative work.

Like Minds, I'll admit, wasn't easy to start despite the inspiration. I worked on two additional "Level" paintings yet to be released before I worked up the courage to make the first mark. I knew the feel I wanted...but wasn't exactly sure how to get there.

A common trick I use? Spill some paint. ​The large blocks that became the people started, essentially, as barely controlled stains.

I sprayed the canvas with water until it was well saturated and took a large brush, making undefined and unspecific marks, that flowed where the water took them. I didn't care too much about composition; that would come later; I just needed some colors to break up the emptiness and provide a stage. 

I decided to make the figures read for a couple reasons; First off it can represent some very different emotions.

Some will think of curling up with a beloved book in front of the fireplace with light rain, low light, a blanket and a warm drink; Some will think of adventure and action, imagined worlds, frightening characters, and turning pages at record speed; Some will think of learning, educating oneself , challenging growth and preconceived notions.

In addition there is the voyeuristic aspect of reading; rarely do you come across someone deep in the pages of a book without wondering what it is that captured their attention.

Lastly, there is the freedom of choosing what to read, what that can mean, and also how reading can play into some of our less-positive tendencies like judgement and assumption. It's not just the internet that breeds self-righteousness. At some point we've all had to choose between the biography or the latest espionage thriller; social commentary or comedy; history or fantasy; and most have, at some point, judged the decisions others have made in that regard. Reading is a great microcosm of society in a way. It presents an almost ideal opportunity to better oneself with no need of outside intervention, yet we often choose easier routes, judge other's decisions, and create division where it's completely unnecessary.

The great thing about educating oneself is you have the ability to form individual conclusions and make truly educated decisions about your life. The paradox of educating oneself is you have the freedom to choose what you read, what you believe, and what you do in turn. The possibility does not guarantee the ideal outcome, but the opportunity, at least, puts it in one's own hands, to a degree.

I've always had a fascination with abandoned buildings. I'm not an urban explorer by any means, but whenever I travel along the highways, interstates, or through rural areas you'll find me craning my neck to spy the corner of some mysterious farmhouse or collapsed barn. There's a wonder and haunting beauty to decaying structures and I often find myself imagining past owners, past lives, and the endless scenarios that never happened. Growing up in a 100+ yr old house brought a sense of pride and, even as a college student, I loved the occasional art show in run-down warehouses, sneaking off during the openings to explore, and peering down elevator shafts and hallways while music blared a few rooms over. Most any structure is interesting but while I was setting up GOOD AIR and travelling to and from Fond du Lac for a few days I was reintroduced to a favorite.

​The Green Valley Motel sits just south of Fond du Lac off highway 41. While overgrown in the summer and much harder to spot, thinning trees make it hard to miss, especially with its derelict green sign. I honestly have no idea when it was built, how long it was open, how long it's sat unused, or if it serves a purpose to this day, but every pass heightens the mystery and intrigue. After three days I just couldn't get it out of my head. 

As with most of my art, the intention is not a photo-realistic representation. Even a physical likeness isn't necessary...but a few weeks following the setup I finally got started on The Green Valley Motel.

Right off the bat there's a few things I need to work on. I would like more foliage and a more claustrophobic effect. I want the motel to emerge from the greenery rather than stand like a monolith. I also would like a pastier green. Jewel tones are great, but there's something about that sign I need to come through in the final painting. I've considered adding a sign, but I think I need to get the color right on the building before exploring that route.

Pictures from the Forgotten Wisconsin facebook page.