"Oysters and lemons"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel - 6" x 8"

Hey, what can I say? Oysters are fun to paint! These guys modeled for me at the Cross Street Market in the Federal Hill area of Baltimore.

"Oyster and knife"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel - 6" x 8"

It's ironic that I love to paint (and slurp) oysters but I couldn't unhinge a raw one if my life depended on it. I've watched the process a thousand times. It looks so simple when my friend George does it, of course he is a world champion oyster shucker. To be fair, I haven't tried in a long while.

This beauty and a host of its siblings were brought to a party I attended recently by a very thoughtful and well received guest. Carried in a joint compound bucket, along with the accouterments for opening them, they were dredged from the river flowing past his backyard. Thankfully he also brought the skill to retrieve the bounty within. Someday I'll try again when the fear of a stigmata has past.

"Oysters and Champagne"

Oil on museum quality Ampersand Gessobord™ panel 8" x 10"

"Tangier Sounds"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel 8" x 8"

I know what you're thinking - "That's it!?! The first painting of the new year; the first painting off the easel in a month is an oyster painting!?! Where's the new series? Where's all the pent up inspiration gushing forth? Oysters...OYSTERS!!! We want something new; something fresh. We've seen this bit; what else ya got? Oops...sorry. Actually that is what I'm thinking and have been for a while now, which accounts for the lack of work on these pages. In my defense, oysters are fun to paint and just picking up the brushes after a month is a step in the right direction. Look for new work soon. Happy New Year!

"Neptune Oyster House Oyster"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel 5" x 7"

The terrible headlines about the eminent ruination of the Gulf Coast has got me thinking and worrying about my beloved Gulf Oysters. Plumper and sweeter than their East Coast brethren, I would hate to think I may have had my last taste of them. Yesterday I painted a cat named Bean. Today a blue point oyster from the Neptune Oyster House in Bean-town. Coincidence? You tell me.

"Oyster with Three Lemons"

Oil on canvas textured ampersand panel 6" x 6"

"Oyster Plate"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel 8" x 8"

"The world was my oyster but I used the wrong fork" - Oscar Wilde

"Oyster Shell with Lemons"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 6” x 8”

I threw my back out yesterday, which put the "pain" in painting.  I stand while I work and every time I twisted from my easel to my palette, which is on a converted music stand, it was electrifying.  I guess being 55 is starting to take its toll.  I may try and paint something simple today and hold the palette in my hand.  I am riding my Harley on a 1200 mile ride down to the Florida Keys, leaving Sunday, so I want to baby my back until then.  To that end, there will be no new daily paintings from 10-25 thru 11-5. "Please don't talk about me when I'm gone."  On second thought, talk all you want.  It is better to be looked over, than overlooked.

"Oysters,Guinness and lemon"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 5” x 7”

Shiver me timbers!  It be September me hearties and that be a month with an Arrrrr. Davy Jones has once again given up some of his treasure from the briny deep. In this case that be the Whale Rock oyster from the Mystic River in Connecticut. Sink me, it's time to splice the mainbrace. Fair winds!

OK, enough with the Captain Jack already!  Do we have an accord? (sorry)  I was in a funk yesterday and wasn't really in the mood to paint but regrouped later in the day to push around some paint.  This piece is little more than a sketch but I like the spontaneity of it.  There is something satisfying about scratching your name into wet paint.  It is tantamount to carving your name in a tree, perhaps more so.  Even the hardiest tree will fall but a work of art will go on. Unless the piece is total dreck, I don't know anyone who throws away art.*  It may get passed around or given to the goodwill perhaps, but not thrown in the bin.  The world is full of works of art that perchance should be tossed, but like an ugly child, someone will love them. So paint carefully my brothers and sisters.  If the world is still around, and you have used good materials, the by product of your creative efforts will be around long after you are gone. There is a reason why they make "student grade" materials - planned obsolescence.

  *I went to my 20th high school reunion back in 1990 and ran into a girl with whom I exacted my very first painting transaction.   It was a piece I had done in Studio class my senior year of my friend Danny rising from a field of weeds or wildflowers (this was the sixties, baby, and we were letting our freak flag fly.)  I was very flattered when this girl (a very attractive girl, I might add. One who I never had the nerve to even talk to) ask if she could buy it.  Hitherto, I had not thought about pricing or even selling my work, so her question caught me off guard.  "Sure," I stammered, "How about 10 bucks" This was a lot of money in 1969, at least it was to me.  She agreed and we made the exchange.  When I saw her again at the reunion, I asked about the painting.  She informed me that her husband didn't like it and threw it out.  Not gave it away, mind you...THREW IT OUT!!  So much for my first sale. 

"Round Pegs in a Square Hole"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 6” x 6”

Oysters! Did you miss 'em? These beauties were had at Lillet on Magazine Street in New Orleans this past April. I couldn't help but notice the way the array of pin spots above rained down on the soft flesh of the oysters nestled in their bed of ice casting reflections of light like some distant galaxy. No mere gulf oysters were these but highfalutin cousins visiting from the northeast. They begged to take a dip in the black hole that was the deep red mignonette. Does July have an "R" in it? No? Damn, two more months until September.

"Oyster, Shell and Lemon"

Oil on archival, museum quality, 1/8” Ampersand Gessobord™ panel – 6” x 6”

These beauties were shucked at the Acme Oyster House in New Orleans. The lovely marble bar works well with the alabaster shell and soft flesh of the oyster. I took a few liberties refecting the hints of blue in the bar.

Back in February, twenty-six–year-old violin virtuoso David Garrett fell down a flight of stairs and landed on his violin case, which held a priceless Stradivarius. The violinist wasn’t badly hurt, but his instrument was not so lucky; upon opening the case, he found the violin in pieces. I had a similar experience recently. Well, perhaps not quite as devastating as crushing a priceless Stradivarius but just as debilitating to this artist; my palette knife finally gave up the ghost and broke from metal fatigue after 40 years of faithful service. Much has changed since I bought that first knife. As my painting brethren can tell you, mixing paint is crucial to a successful work of art. The feel and spring of a good palette knife becomes second nature. My dear old knife was Japanese. Its fine blade had the perfect shape, thinness and spring for the job. Although I did manage to find a close approximation of the shape, the new blade is Italian and is thicker than its predecessor. The spring is all wrong. I may have to try and find an old one on eBay.

In the words of Joni Mitchell -

“Don’t it always seem to go

That you don’t know what you’ve got

Till it's gone”

The tale of the ancient Oyster

Oyster with lemon - 1976 - 5" x 7" - oil on canvas

I owe my artistic voyage to my mother’s side of the family. My mother, a tall, slender, attractive woman was, in her youth, a runway model and actress. Of her two brothers one was a fashion and costume designer who later went on to become one of the most celebrated operatic directors of our time. The other earned a PhD in German literature, was an orchestral conductor, Gilbert and Sullivan scholar, gourmet cook and was also well versed in the visual arts. With all this creative influence, is it any wonder that my father, an electrician, feared for my future? Did I mention that one of my uncles was gay? OMG! Some of his fears were assuaged when I got married and fathered a child at the tender age of twenty one, but that’s another story. Suffice it to say that my mother's side of the family won out as far as my becoming an artist and not an electrician. In truth, now that I am a home owner, I wish that I had paid more attention to Dad growing up. I could have learned much on those days that I accompanied him on electrical jobs. He knew that I would never starve (or still be living at home at 30) with such a skill.

We lost Mom in 1985 and I always think of the “Blondie” song – “Die young, stay pretty.” Uncle John recently succumbed to cancer and he, too, is gone. I went to visit my Uncle Bob in Birmingham, Alabama this past weekend. No small amount of my early creative efforts resides there with him. I was struck with just how many “daily paintings” I had done in my youth. There were peppers and onions and crawfish and crabs and loaves of bread and oysters. Yes, even in my early twenties the lowly bi-valve held an irresistible fascination. I can thank Dad for introducing me to them many years ago by taking me to bull and oyster roasts at the American Legion. This painting is one I did back in 1976 at the age of 23. Look for new work tomorrow.

"Plateau de fruits de mer"

Oli on panel 5" x 7"

Do you honestly think that I could go to Paris and not avail myself of the local seafood? Many of the brasseries had fantastic displays of freshly shucked oysters; clams known as amandes; raw mussels; baby shrimp in their shells; cadmium red prawns; whole cooked crab; chewy sea snails known as bulots and tiny blue-black winckles. We succumbed to their sirens song and soon found ourselves starring at a beautiful Plateau de fruits de mer; a gorgeous, glistening assortment of shellfish, or fruits of the sea perched high on the table on an ice-filled round metal platter. Accompanied with slices of rye bread, lovely French salted butter, quarters of fresh lemon, mayonnaise and mignonette, my companions could only drool and eat bread, as I spent 10 minutes capturing it from every angle with my camera. My wife is used to me discreetly photographing food at restaurants. We can’t eat steamed crabs (a Baltimore specialty) without me whipping out my faithful little canon elph. “Can I eat now?” is her common mantra. It has gotten worse since the daily painting started as everything is possible creative fodder.
Trying to keep it fresh (no pun intended), I may leave Paris tomorrow and try something a little different. Stay tuned.

"Three on the half shell"

Oil on panel - 6"x 6"Here it is kids - the last painting until I return from Paris early next month. Rest assured that I will return fully charged to get back to the easel. What better place to become inspired than the City of Lights? À bientôt.

"Acme Oyster House"

Oil on archival, museum quality, 1/8” Ampersand Gessobord™ panel - 5" x 7"

How’s this for an excuse for not painting this week – I lost my glasses. Last week was particularly warm and I took the opportunity to get in the wind on my Harley. I changed into my sunglasses and stuck my prescription glasses in my leather jacket. Sometime during the ride they fell out and got run over. I found them two days later crushed by the side of the road. I have a spare pair but they are not good for painting. Yesterday I went to the ophthalmologist to get a new prescription and he put drops in my eyes – Whoa…cool colors, but not great for painting. Oh, I was in Florida from Thursday until Sunday so no work on those days (although I did glean some reference material during the trip.) Today’s painting was done wearing my old, old spare pair.
These oysters were shucked especially for me to paint by “Stormin” Norman at the Acme Oyster House in New Orleans. They look good against the white marble oyster bar.