Mariah- Patient and encouraging, meditative and imperfect. We sit in the garden noticing the unnoticed, rendering a moment.
Ocean waves crashing
Sunshine and sea breezes
Drying seaweed, flotsam, & jetsam
Boundless birds and bugs
Time with a friend
Painting on the beach
January 26, 2020
Venice backyard
I met Leslie on my birthday, in July of 2020. I became aware of her paintings and her plein air project just before her show at Julius Caesar. I loved the idea of the project, which seemed like a perfect way to have a socially distanced outdoor experience, and I loved her paintings, which had a very unique vocabulary of shape and color as she dealt with botanical subjects. She graciously allowed me to pick a few paintings before the install, and we figured out a day to arrange a delivery of my new little collection. As we talked, it occurred to me that I was living in a perfect setting for a plein air-painting excursion. My home outside of Chicago had a field of native wildflowers, and the purple coneflowers were putting on quite a show.
Leslie showed up with her portable painting tables and pallets of Japanese watercolors and we spent the afternoon painting with my sister Natalie. Leslie made a number of beautiful paintings, while I muddled through various attempts to put something on paper that wasn’t immediately offensive. She was a gracious teacher and encouraging painting partner. It’s nice to spend time working alongside somebody that has a very developed practice. The paintings weren’t overly precious, and she worked with an ease and confidence that made it fun. She had a nice repertoire of encouraging comments to keep you moving: “It’s just paper.” Or “You can start another painting if you don’t like that one.” Leslie’s paintings were abstract but rooted in the situation. She pulled elements like the color of the coneflowers, or the shape of a bush, or the bending of a trunk, and synthesized them into imaginary landscapes that were fantastic, but familiar. I don’t think she could have made the same painting sitting anywhere else, they seemed very specific to the time and place. I didn’t end up with any paintings that I liked, and I don’t think I’ve touched my watercolors since, but it did give me a refreshed appreciation for my immediate environment, the beauty of the flowers and the grasses, and the power of concentrated observation to transform your connection to a place.
I’ve spent the past few months of this elongated isolation dealing with a number of white oak trees that have died. I hired a guy to come out with a portable sawmill and we spent a few days sawing up boards and slabs and beams. I’ve been learning to work with the wood and have been making some initial attempts at sculpture and direct carving. I like to think that my day painting in the field was a little bit of encouragement to make something beautiful out of our immediate surroundings.
July 17, 2020
in person remote Barrington
Our dates connected us: to each other, to nature, to color.
They connected me to the meditative practice of painting, which I had never really done and now practice almost daily.
This collective project connects me to many humans I don’t know, but who are undoubtedly beautiful because they were chosen by you.
August 16, 2020
Farnsworth House
September 4, 2019
Gompers Park
July 20, 2020
in person remote cemetery for Dana
above the crowds
where the colors are original
infinite skills create miracles
raining it down/holding it down
above the clouds
as the oldest tribe
we shed tears
sound the the alarm
above the clouds
we rest in the sky
stratus as canvas
numerous attempts
(adapted from: “Above The Clouds” by Gang Starr)
August 31, 2019
Humboldt Park
July 8, 2020
in person remote Humboldt Park
It was the most beautiful Summer day. The kind of summer day where time seems to slow down. I was thinking about how you perceive things that are alive, when juxtaposed with death. Painting with Leslie that day felt like praying. Made me think about this Mary Oliver poem.
July 23, 2019
Humboldt Park
in the thick warm air
wet color with you and I
a thousand greens here.
February 28, 2020
Garfield Park Conservatory
September 29, 2021
Humboldt Park
Green and Yellow Waves
Sunlight
Yellow-Green
Edges
Blue-Green
Shadows
Yellow-green
Yellow
Yellow-green
Sunlight
April 20, 2018
Garfield Park Conservatory
An Afternoon at the Beach: Pink puffy clouds, soft wind, a grassy knoll and crashing waves. A splendid afternoon with my cousin at the beach.
March 5, 2020
Boca Raton Beach
I was nervous about painting with Leslie. It’d been years since I picked up a watercolor brush. The day before, I spent three indecisive hours at the art store trying to pick out the right supplies that would match my romantic, Merchant-Ivory film notion of plein air painting. The next morning, Leslie and I met up inside the Garfield Park Conservatory. I painted, timidly so, and watched as Leslie’s brush worked swiftly and intuitively with no second-guessing, joyfully wedging shapes and color combinations into gorgeous compositions. I had recently read about “flow,” the term coined by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi to describe a heightened, immersive state of positive productivity, and I wondered if Leslie was experiencing it. After our date, I went home and made some drawings and thought, “Is this flow? How do I get to flow? Should I ask Leslie?” Flow came, eventually, once I stopped being so conscious of it. Also, chocolate helped. And thinking about the way Leslie’s brush moved.
January 16, 2019
Garfield Park Conservatory
