Let the Walls Come Down—this original painting is acrylic on board and is 68 inches by 64 inches. The story behind this composition is as follows: A friend and neighbor has returned to Europe and is standing with a crowd as the Wall came down around them. I am on Stanford’s (California) campus watching him on a news broadcast. The composition was done in as close to real time as possible.
This has come so late that my eyes are sore in looking for your face in the crowd. It was not in vain: “I have found you standing on the wall, not alone.”
Standing here drinking this wine I send a toast toward the screen and several of us shout out names of people we know are there, with the intention of being in this historical treasure as it changes colors, hues and tones. Surprised and touched we did our best to be there as well, to settle the score of a culture turning forward, settling the business of a future yet to be told. You eventually climbed down and then returned to Stanford to finish your studies. We had a chair waiting for your return, so that you could sit and study what I painted, while you sipped your wine and recalled your version of the story.
Embracing Still Waters—this is what I was thinking when this was composed. This is an original oil painting on canvas, 72 inches by 63 inches.
How much do you owe? One’s debts should not exceed a pocket full of memories. Not at all—take this vehicle for instance—I will ride my debt to the end of the world. That will assist me through all of those life’s pressures, so long as I have enough fuel to go, reiterating what is possible.
Hearing his story his wife just shook her head. Nothing could restrain her dismay better than silence. His fire has been straddling his machine while her way was to go on absorbing a lifetime: the arts, nature’s grander places, sitting back with a wonderful glass of Shiraz pressing through the pages of good literature. This is what is possible.
But one’s fantasies give way with the brush of the hand; let us take what remains as still working. We have only one thing left to do: entrust our definition of fortunes as an open field instead of four solid walls of restrictions. We are called Boomers; see how we prosper now at the entrance of this final grotto called life.
End of the Game—in a literal hell painted with a sky so blue, I am reminded of the contrasting beauty of hot and very cool. This is what I was thinking when I composed this painting in acrylic and calc sand on canvas, 120 inches by 78 inches.
Surprised and touched I watch University students from Mexico and the United States continue their dig around parched and sandy brown dirt , unearthing the bones of elephants in Baja Sir. While they talked excitedly about the discovery of this bone yard of 13,000 year old elephant remains, I sketched under the glimmer of the light from a lantern.
The sun has already gone down below the horizon while I nurse a cold beer pulled from one of the many ice chests on this site. From all of our points of view this find was better than the discovery of gold—a larger sum of value for discovering the content of this dig was never possible. They talked over how to proceed, and two of us climbed back into our paddle vessels and continued down the coast to land’s end. We were informed and now we would continue paddling around the remainder of the peninsula.