Beauty

 I found myself heading out to draw when I got some sad news from a client. Its not like the world doesn't suck enough right now, its not like other people I know aren't going through shit, some of which I can't even imagine. But the ridge calls me and has been on my mind. It was the last forecasted nice day, hasn't been remotely pleasant since. Chipmunk Ridge is one of my favorite places on earth, a good place to be as the world swirls.

This winter I have been slowly cleaning out my childhood home, which for multiple reasons has been hard. My family has lived in the same neighborhood for over a hundred years. Its confusing and lonely to carry on your shoulders that family history when you feel like you are the last gasp. My Grandparents lived in my house and more than helped raise me. I was brought up by people that lived through the great depression and grew up with Babe Ruth and literally Les Paul. Perhaps I am one of those old souls because I was so heavily influenced by older people. There is a lot to sort out in my heart as I peel back the layers of time, dysfunction and most importantly love.

This year is uncertain for me, I miss everyone. I want so badly to do something positive. Don't get me wrong, I aint no saint, but as I am dealing with family, my past, and a very unhappy country, I think more and more of my Mom. My Grandparents. I think of the old neighborhood and the people that I love. The river. The things that bring me the deepest joy.

So I carry that all as I head up on the ridge to draw. Drawing gets me going. There isn't the pressure to make a product, drawing is thinking, exploring, poking. It wasn't a remarkable day, but I was locked in. I don't have to go far and everything just snowballs. When one is dialed in one starts to notice things, little things become big things. Everything becomes alive and the events of the last thousand years flow together and you feel it all. For my last drawing I sit by a 19th century farm and I swear I am there and its a hundred years ago. The craft and the divine order just overwhelm me. The light always knocks me out. The mature trees. Its so powerful and I try my best to just get it out onto the paper. When this happens everything just seems beyond you. You are the stereotypical vehicle and everything seems possible

Our country can be so inspiring if we wanted it. Those people long ago wanted it more. We are such a poor nation and its sad. Poor in our heart. I don't feel sad when I am in places like this. I don't feel sad when I am trying to do something beautiful. I don't know if what I did was any good at all, but I felt good. I felt my Mom and that made me happy. I hear kids voices playing, there is something in the wind. The twisting limbs on the trees seem to contort my body. When I am done with the drawing it is near dark and the sensation is so intense it runs down my arms into my wrists and tingles. Everywhere I looked I saw beauty and a painting. Its like living in a dream. I think the world used to be like this more. People were more exposed to this. They may have been much happier. I don't know. The world largely doesn't look or feel like this anymore. I reject the way it is now.

In these hard times, I encourage everyone to try and do something beautiful. Not a painting, but in how you conduct yourself, how you talk to people, what you think about, how you spend your money, be giving, be good. Don't go along with the ugliness that surrounds us and you will feel much better. If it feels gross don't do it. I am wrought with the emotions of mourning as I move forward with my childhood home, and I don't have the energy to reinvent myself. I just want to paint something beautiful for my Mom, and that is what I promise to do, to the best of my ability this year. Not sure if I will do less shows or just the same amount but with less work. Now is the time to do what is in my heart, I hope you all do too. 

Picking Up The Pieces and Finally Posting New Available Work

 It has been a month since we had our opening at the farm, I can honestly say I was overwhelmed by the love and am still recovering. It wasn't like thousands of people showed up, it was just the right ones. People from multiple states away too! New friends and old friends. The two best things about what I do are: I get to do something I believe in for a living and the people I come in contact with. My cousin who was there said she just loved meeting all the interesting people who attended. I am so blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful people that support Katie and I. Here is one of our friends who wore my Des Moines Art Festival tshirt to the museum this week. That is as close as my work will ever get to Hans Holbein or Van Gogh!

Anyways, things are calming down kinda. I have actually posted new available work for the first time in a long time in case anybody wants a little painting for the holidays. This time I included images with the frames which I am not sure about, maybe too wonky looking online, but I feel the little paintings have taken on a more "as object" quality. All the frames are repurposed, scavenged wood from the farm or estate sales or wherever-even the side of the road. It is part of my oeuvre I guess.

Thank you all for helping me get through this long and stressful year with pleasant memories to consider. And thanks to those who came to the opening and supported our nephew Grayson, he had his best show ever!

Gallery opening, Louisville and the age of ugly

 Again, we are showing at the farm and anyone is invited. Friday, Saturday, Sunday Oct 17-19 12-6. I have held back some paintings for the show and am in the process of making a few new ones. These will be there.

Sorry but I have to get this out of the way. It is difficult for me to be in a place that has as much character as Old Louisville and then come back to Wisconsin on a dreary day and sift through factory farms in search of something beautiful. I feel like we are living in the age of ugly after spending time around the glorious shotgun shacks in the Germantown neighborhood, or the prestigious Victorian homes near St James Court. It is like we stopped caring about aesthetics. The old farms cared, I seek them out. The new architecture doesn't care. It is ugly. And so too often are the cars, where are food comes from, the way we dress, our politics, our communities, our art, ourselves. Too many of us are ugly. We are living in the age of ugly and I am sick of it. I wonder about the kind of people that live in the older neighborhoods compared to the new ones. What are their values? Does it effect how we live? Is it really that different. Over and over again people tell me my art is peaceful calming and beautiful. A younger version of me would not think this very rebellious, but in reality it is rebellious to be handsome and dignified in our culture of anger and dumbed down efficiency. When I am in Louisville, I always fantasize about living in an old house and making paintings of the neighborhood. I am supported by the people of Louisville, or at least the ones that come to the show. I love its dive bars and character. Its feel and texture.

Anyways, St James Court Art Festival, doesn't attract as many higher end artists. It is large and sprawling but I love it more than many of the top shows in the country. All weekend long I talk with people young and old and just have a good time as I bask in the glory of the Conrad House. I hope everyone else has as much fun as I do. I hope my rant against ugly is not too negative, but from having talked with so many people, I know I am not alone in this. 

My travelogue of art shows has concluded. Thank you to everyone who helped me get through this tough year. Thank you to the beautiful and interesting people that float by my booth. Thank you to the people who spend their money on me. Thank you for the privilege of bringing something I made into your homes, I can honestly say it came from my heart, I still have a hard time believing this is all possible. Thank you for those of you who show me photos of paintings they bought that are now in their homes. Thank you for those who share a beer with me. To those who just are encouraging. To those you make me laugh and smile. To those that are amusing. Thank you for the feeling of togetherness in a sometimes isolating world. Thank you for the shared time and experience. I don't understand it but many times this is where I feel most myself.

Plaza

	10:05 PM (1 minute ago)
Plaza Art Fair, Kansas City

All the art shows we do are so different, a different flavor, different part of the country, different venues and different reasons for existing. I have been told by another show director that Plaza is done for all the wrong reasons and lately it has been hard to argue in defense of Plaza. But I cancelled last year and wanted to do the right thing, so there I was again in Kansas City.

The Plaza Art Fair has been put on for 86 years by the Plaza Country Club which is a high end historic shopping district. Perhaps the first mall in the world built for automobiles back in the 1920's, it is to anybody that appreciates architecture pretty special. But the shopping clearly is not my bag. It reminds of the bad things and superficial people in the place I was born. The show has gotten a reputation of a big drunk fest and for not giving a shit about the artists. I can't say I was eager to be there. Plaza was once a top 5 show in the country, now it is just a show. A long grueling one at that. That said I have met some great people there, just like at any show, but there seemed to be less of them lately. The Plaza had slipped. It was loud and seemingly out of control in recent years, and so less buyers and serious patrons showed up. Then less of the best artists. You could see how the downward spiral of a show happens at Plaza. 

But there I was, grumpy and rolling my eyes at high maintenance women and corporate men in outfits that made me uncomfortable as I drank my Hillsboro beer. And the people came and drank. Got dressed up and meandered around holding fish bowl margarita glasses, and like always it was a big crowd. A diverse crowd. By diverse I just don't mean gays, blacks, liberals; I mean everyone. Sports fans, wealthy professionals, bums, every slice of life. Maybe not as many nerdy art people and that is the problem. I like that art can break down divisions in our country, I like that about Plaza, but I don't like that it has become an event that had nothing to do with the art. Drink, be seen and listen to some live music. Fine, but it makes for a bad art show. And the quite sensitive folks that enjoy artists and artwork don't want to be at a meat market.

Side note- anyone that says people buy art when they drink are completely wrong. I like to drink, but I don't drink to experience beauty or have an emotional connection with something, and that is what I need for someone to do if they are going to buy a painting from me. Drinking makes you more likely to buy another drink, not an expensive piece of art. Having a leisurely beverage and relaxing as you talk and take in the show is different. Drinking is straight up bad for business.

This year was a little different. The Plaza has new owners and they clearly gave a shit about the show. They had quality control brought in from Cheery Creek. They had better hours.They were more visible and the crowd seemed far less rowdy. The music wasn't as loud. Things had bottomed out. I had more conversations. People seemed more into the art. My grumpiness subsided. I had a good show. I even won an award so if I feel like it I will be back next year. We got home today and I didn't feel beaten down by Plaza like in previous years. I feel good. I feel good about Plaza and grateful, like at every show, for all the staff and volunteers who put on the shows. I couldn't do this without you. Thank you! 

 

Next up: Louisville Kentucky

Remaining schedule and gallery opening

  Surprise, we got through some heavy stuff and I grew calmer, more relaxed and my work got better. I feel better than I have in a while, as long as the Brewers don't give me a heart attack or crush my soul. Often times I wonder why I even give a shit about sports. Hopefully I grow out of it. Anyways, I feel good and good about my work for the remaining few shows. Sitting in the field for hours is always healing for me.

Our two last art festivals are: 

Sept 19-21 Plaza Art Fair, Kansas City MO

Oct 3-5 St James Court Art Festival, Louisville KY

Then Oct 17-18 We will be having an opening at our gallery, Painting Is Dead Gallery on the farm here. In the gallery, the show is titled Fresh Fish. We will be showing fish related work like these drawings I did from my time on the Mississippi River. We our also very excited to have our 13 year old nephew showing his crocheted fish. We have spent some time together in the last year fishing, which has helped us all deal with the grief of losing people we love. Fishing has always helped me get through hard times.

Yes, I did catch all those fish, and drew them from life.

AND we will have our booths set up with new and old work. I am holding a few pieces back for the show which I will tease in a few weeks. I have older pieces I am willing to sell discounted and stuff nobody will have ever seen before. All are welcome to attend. Email me for details.

heavyweather1977@gmail.com

Charlevoix

     Art festivals don't always go as planned. You don't plan on selling so much the previous show that you have to scramble to get to the next show. Which we did and arrive fried. Or maybe you do plan on that, I do think pretty regularly: what happens if I sell that, then what will I do? You don't plan one show you plan a succession of them. These parts of the gig suck your soul and exhaust you. In the back of your mind your plan for bad weather, but you hope you don't have to deal with it. You try not to think what if something bad happens when you are away from home. 

     I have done Charlevoix on and off since 2004. You enjoyably drive around Lake Michigan, cross the Mackinac Bridge, spend some time in the UP. On the beaches you look for fossils and get some rare relaxation. The show sometimes is like a paid vacation which is why some artists do shows-make enough money to go someplace cool and experience something you wouldn't otherwise. There are just things to do and see that make Charlevoix unique as a show. The affluent boating culture is a turn off but the quaint no big box downtown is like going up north when I was a kid. I see families experiencing a vacation in a way that is healthy. You are in town at the seasonal high point, a time when most of the country is sweltering in the heat of the dog days of summer and you are happy to be up north. The show is run very well and the area supports it nicely. With all the transients you never know who you are going to sell to or meet. I see some of the same people year after year and have built friendships, but mostly it is a new crowd of vacationers. This makes the show a little more surface level than most of the other ones I do.

     Bad weather is part of this. We sign up for it, and have to make our peace with it. We jumped in Lake Michigan after a brutally hot set up. We camped and it was too hot to sleep, which made the show really draining. With the extreme heat, people came out early like always and then it became a trickle. In the heat people don't engage as much. They don't linger, they are not as curious, they don't take as many cards, and I don't have as many good conversations. People are on a mission to get through it and back into the air conditioning. The show drags on. It was good enough but tiring.

     Then at the end chaos. A storm rolls in. You manically bust your ass to get everything down and then out of the rain. It is stressful. You never know what a storm will bring. I have experienced and seen enough to know you don't want to be in this situation. But we get it done and have a nice meal. Things cool off and we sleep well. Unfortunately we wake up to find the storm flooded Milwaukee and our family is one of the victims. 

    Suddenly a day on the beach turns into a helpless and distracted day. We want to go spend a night in the UP, but settle for a walk on the beach and a long drive home. Our family lost their entire basement in the flash flood. All day long we hear stories of the disaster. We get home to a swollen rain gauge and a wet but okay basement. We host Katie's Mom's funeral in 6 days. Art seems very distant. Sometimes this is just how it goes. Things pile up and you just find a way to get through them. And we did. We hosted the funeral service in our barn as a ferocious thunderstorm nailed us. It was a deeply emotional and memorable ceremony. And then we crashed. Two days later I am painting in the heat over by the Mississippi River, my happy place, just trying to get centered. Trying to find some peace, trying to make my way through another blur of an art show season.

Ann Arbor aftermath

 Ann Arbor was a great show for Katie and me, and it almost always is. Unlike most shows, Ann Arbor draws serious people from a very wide swath. All of Southern Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, even Chicago and Cleveland. The weather at the show cooperated and I spent the last few weeks being overwhelmed and confused. No confusion about Zingermann's Roadhouse though, that is all good. 

Part of me never wants to do this again. I am physically and emotionally spent. It is increasingly difficult to keep this pace up, which I didn’t want to do this year, and I feel creatively drained. The work feels formulaic to me at times. It is harder and harder for me to drive around in rural America and be motivated. America is ugly, and has gotten much worse in my lifetime. Science and technology make it worse. Our addictions to cheap food, cheap houses, and cheap solutions, wears me down. Many days I come home upset by the lack of craft, thought and beauty. Its hard seeing people get rich off of it too. Furthermore, our deep political divisions only add fuel to the fire.This is not how I want to spend the rest of my life: feeling down.

Then there is a part of me that loves what I do. Painting plein air always makes me happy, even when I fail. All the cool people that I meet keep me going. As much as I dislike the world around me, I at least try to light a candle, even if I do curse the darkness. I am proud of that. I see what most people put in their homes, I know I am giving people something different, authentic, sincere and aspiring to be beautiful for their homes, and that feels good. And it is rare. Unquestionably, I put my heart into it. So I am torn as to what to do next. Right now the thought of painting the Mississippi River or Lake Michigan or the woods makes me most excited.

Lately I have been thinking about what 19 year old me would think of this. It started when a couple of women in their 20’s came into my booth, separately, and cried because the work emotionally got to them. 19 year old me says “see I was right the whole time!”. I feel fortunate that I stuck with that initial inarticulate rejection of dominant culture and have refined it. That I focused on finding beauty for my whole adult life. For me though, it is still hard to separate 19 year old abrasive scrawny dirty me and 47 year old me. I recently sat down with a big strapping fireman and his beautiful wife who had come to town to see me, it is hard to imagine that ever happening to me. The whole thing is like a dream. Like aren’t you people going to make fun of me and be mean at some point like when I was in high school? I think about dropping 19 year old me into many of these situations and wonder how that shit kid would have totally flaked out. Like, I act weird enough as it is, but imagine Napoleon Dynamite with long hair, that was me. Sometimes, sadly I still act that way, and yes you should make fun of me for it. I guess I deal with my success by finding ways to not think about it. Being successful makes me uncomfortable(I am Lutheran), but I do cherish people telling me about a painting they bought from me at some point and that they value it. Thank you everyone for that and for helping me grow up.