Friday Featured Favorite: Michael Bailey

I really enjoy sharing quality work from outstanding artists that you may not be familiar with, so I'm excited to finally get back to my Friday Favorites feature.  I'd like to introduce you to Michael Bailey, a very talented realist painter whose technical skills are as impressive as his wide range of media.  He's equally proficient with watercolor and graphite drawing, as well as other painting media.

No matter what the subject or medium, his love of the natural world is what draws me to Michael's work.  You can see the reverence for nature in every brushstroke; the images speak clearly of his connection with the land of the Arizona mountains and deserts.  Michael was gracious enough to answer a few questions about his work and his views on art.

Canyon Light

Can you tell us a little about your artwork and your artistic process?

     The majority of what I do is realistic art. I guess you could classify me as a landscape artist primarily, though I enjoy still life, figurative, and once in a while will play around with some surrealistic/fantasy themes for fun and just to break away from things for a while. I have been concentrating on graphite on paper the last couple of years but have also worked watercolor, mixed media, and am itching to get back to oil painting. The process for me starts with the idea or theme which I begin to explore with sketches and reference photos. Once I have a composition I like, it’s then pretty straight forward from that point, dependent on whether I feel the subject better translates for me as a more highly rendered graphite piece, or if I’m going to paint it. 

Front Range Storm

What inspires you as an artist? Why do you create art? 

      My inspiration comes from just about everywhere, being a realist. I live in the Southwest, so the landscape and the quality of light here are my main motivators. In between works I will try and explore the area for new ideas, sketching on site and taking lots of photos. I’m respondent to dreams also; the next painting I am going to start is an image in a dream I had.

      I create art because I simply cannot stop. The way I look at and feel about things is always from the perspective of an artist. I’m always very subjectively analyzing things as I look at them, composing in my head, thinking about the lines I would use to draw them or the colors to paint them. My right brain sometimes works overtime, which is a good thing.

     

Bridge Partners

What types of themes, ideas, or concepts do you explore within your artwork?

     - I rarely work in a series, though I guess I should to explore a subject more completely, so themes aren’t always a continuous thread in my pieces. The one thing that does show up constantly is light and shadow. I am always trying to depict that dramatic contrast of light and shadow and that I think is because of the light out here. Things are always lit a bit more dramatically here in the desert. Textures also are a big part of my work, for instance I love drawing weathered wood.

 Shadowlock

Are there any artists that inspire you? If so, who would they be, and why?

The Renaissance masters of course, especially Rembrandt and Caravaggio who used light so superbly. My biggest inspiration may come from Andrew Wyeth. His compositions and the use of light and textures always inspire me to improve every piece as each of his works did. There are tons of contemporary realists nowadays who inspire me, Jeremy Lipking, Malcolm Liepke,  Brad Kunkle, Michael Klein, just to name a few. I love how each explores realism and how each are technical masters of their craft.

 Kashmir

For you, what do you think the role of the artist is?

      I believe primarily, and on a very basic level, an artist is a communicator who uses a visual language, and that is the most universal of languages. An artist communicates beauty, or emotions, tragedy, history. He brings life to life.

What’s the best and worst part about being an artist? How do you stay motivated?

      The best part is that you get to do what you absolutely love to do more than anything else. It is said that a person whose career choice is his passion in life will never work a single day. The worst part is the standards you try to achieve with your work are not always at that moment attainable. You become your own worst critic and it’s at times very, very frustrating.

      Motivation for me is learning something new every time I sit at the drawing table or at my easel. When I learn something new about my art I am learning something new about myself and both are improved.

 Divergence

 

And finally, what advice would you give to emerging artists? 

      The best advice I could give is a piece given to me by a successful watercolorist:

     “Brush miles” count for more than anything else in your career. Keep on doing it, keep on improving, learn everything you can about what you do and the passion will grow along with your art.

 To see more of his work, please visit Michael's website:  Michael Bailey Fine Art  and blog:  Crosshatching's

Weird Light, Weird Life

Recently, in the midst of several straight days of persistent rain and ugly grayness, the sun unexpectedly came out. I had all but given up on seeing the sun when a hole in the clouds, I suppose, had allowed it to peek through for a few short moments. 

 The quality of the light was eerie, and impossible to describe in words.   I ran outside with my camera, not wanting to miss the opportunity to photograph the weird light.  After about the 5th shot, the light was gone.

It occurred to me that this two-minute experience was a pretty good metaphor for life. Maybe not as good as "life is like a box of chocolates", but still.  Just when it seems the darkness will never end, the light appears. When you're immersed in darkness, it's easy to miss it; we tend to see what we think we see, and habit is a powerful force. Things can change in a flash, when you least expect it.

If my metaphor is too obtuse, or too blatantly cliche, all I'm saying is this: when the stress eases a little, and you have a few spare moments, grab the opportunity.  I was beginning to doubt that the opportunity to make art would ever come again.  I don't mean to be preachy or over-dramatic, but I need to remind myself that the habit of not not making art can be overcome- I hope.

Okay, I'm going to go make art now. 

My Seven Links

 

 I took it as a great compliment when my dear friend Donna Drozda invited me to be part of the 'My 7 Links’ project.  Luckily, she assured me there was no deadline, so my usual inability to get to all 1,329 things on my list in a timely fashion was not going to be a problem.  I have to admit that when I realize how much time has gone by since the invitation, I feel a bit embarrassed, but I'm going ahead with it nonetheless.  So, I hope those whose blogs I’ve invited will allow themselves the same lee way… and if the time or interest doesn’t fit, no worries.  (I copied some of this from Donna; she writes much better than I do.  I can hear her laughing at me now.)

 

Did I Dream This?  by Donna Drozda

 The idea is to go back to your own posts and find one to fit each of the 7 categories, then ‘pass it on' to 5 more bloggers, and so on, and so on, etc., etc., etc.  The project is described as a way of “uniting bloggers (from all sectors) in a joint venture", and I'm all about uniting, you know?

The following are the 7 categories:

1. Most beautiful post

2. Most popular post

3. Most controversial post

4. Most helpful post

5. Most “surprisingly successful” post

6. Most neglected post

7. The post that makes them most proud

   So, here goes! 

   

   
   

    1. Most Beautiful.   I had a hard time deciding,  but in the end I think I chose "White" 2/7/10 at least partly because we've had virtually no snow (or snow days!) this winter.  On the day these photos were taken, we'd had the most perfect snowfall during the night, and then, in the morning, the sun came out.  The result was dazzling.

    

   2. Most Popular.  I don't know if this post got the most comments, but I appreciated the support of so many wonderful blogger friends.  Where can you find this many people so willing to cheer you on?  I hope they also found some small inspiration in this story of conquered fears: "I Did It" 10/24/10

    

   

    

   3. Most Controversial.  I'm not sure any of my posts were very controversial.  But I know that politics are not popular on art blogs, and despite my best efforts to keep my political opinions to myself, they just pop out every once in a while.  I chose "Every day should be Earth Day" 4/21/09  , because everyone really should know about this.

    

   4. Most helpful.  Many of you told me that this post was helpful, and I, too, often need to remind myself that "Art Comes From the Making" 6/30/11

    

   5. Most surprisingly successful.  I was surprised to see how this post resonated with people; I had feared it might be too whiney, but it was something I just needed to say.  Apparently, I wasn't the only one who felt that way. "Here's How It Is" 2/7/11

    

   

    

   6. Most neglected.  "Interconnections" 11/29/09

   
   

   7. The post that makes me most proud.  I chose "Not an Open Book" 6/15/11.  I'm proud of myself for not chickening out when it came to revealing the very personal subject matter of this piece, and for having the guts to try an unfamiliar form of expression on an important project.

    

   

   
   

   The five bloggers I've chosen to participate in the 'My Seven Links' project are

   Lynne Hoppe

   Kim Hambric

    Valerianna

   Gwen Buchanan

   Lynne Ciacco

   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

Upcoming Exhibit at Audubon Museum

On Saturday, I took 5 pieces to the John James Audubon Museum in Henderson, Kentucky.  It was a cold, grey day, and the drive took about 4 hours each way, but I am very happy to be part of the exhibit. 

One of my pieces is on the front of the announcement- the one with the blue crow taking flight, entitled "Rise".

The Audubon Museum is a beautiful stone structure built by the Works Progress Administration in 1938.  Unfortunately, the weather was dark and overcast, and my camera batteries died, so I wasn't able to get a good photo.  Maybe I'll have better luck when I go to retrieve my work.

"Seedling" will also be in the exhibit.

I'm also excited to welcome my new followers; I am always so grateful that someone connects with what I do.  I hope you will all enjoy sharing  my journey.  The new year is starting off with a bang!   I'm wishing the same for all of you, my friends, and many blessings!

Palimpsest:: Language - with convoluted commentary

In a previous post, I showed you the beginning of this piece, and the second unfinished part was featured here.  It has taken me quite a while, what with Christmas and other projects, but here is the final result.

 Palimpsest: Language

ingredients: vintage book cover, vintage maps, handwriting from 1930's composition book, vintage newspaper pages, vintage book cut-outs, 1950's dress pattern pieces, stamps on vintage paper, Chinese Hell notes, inkjet print, acrylic paint, acrylic gel mediums, Caran d'Ache crayons, watercolor pencils, stitching, vintage ledger paper, image transfers, brads, metal spinner, metal thingie (?), feather, pen nib

languages/alphabets: English print, English handwritten script, shorthand, Chinese, Spanish, Tibetan, Tibetan ideograms/ pictographs, cuneiform (2 Types), Mayan pictographs, English numbers/mathematics

Several of you indicated you wouldn't be bored by reading more about the concepts, symbols, and meaning of this piece, so here goes.

As I said, I started to consider the concept 'palimpsest' to my way of working, and drawing parallels between those ideas.  Palimpsest is defined by Wikipedia as "a manuscript page from a scroll or book from which the text has been scraped off and which can be used again.".  (recycling!) These manuscripts have often been disaggregated, deciphered, and used to recover important lost writings and other information.

palimpsest with Greek text of Luke  (Wikipedia)

Much of my recent collage work has incorporated a process of layering in which materials are partially scraped off to reveal parts of what's beneath. The idea of the interplay between the transparency of layers and the mystery of covering other sections has always been present in my work- probably because I so inherently see everything as connected to every other thing; I just can't seem to separate them.

Angel of the Sunrise

So, back to the language thing. (If you're not at all interested in linguistics or the human brain, skip over the next 3 paragraphs.) As I shared before, language is my business, in a sense.  As a special educator, I think a lot about ways to remediate my students' reading, writing, and spoken language deficits.  As I watch them struggle with these skills that come so naturally to many of us, I can't help but wonder how the human brain processes language, and ultimately, how language came to be in the first place.

Needless to say, the topic is too complex for me do an in-depth study.  However, I did encounter some interesting and useful ideas, foremost among them the widely-held belief that the human brain is hard-wired for language.  Many would argue that this is the one characteristic that separates humans from other animals. Thought and language appear to be inseparable- we think in words, and apparently can't think without them.  (You might be interested in watching this.)  Why some of our brains seem to be hard-wired differently (or less) than others is unclear, but calls into question that whole "nature-versus-nurture" debate; research indicates that both are involved in this case. 

As for the origin of language, no one can say for certain, because it happened so far back in prehistory that there's little evidence available.  Research into this subject continues, and perhaps someday more clues will be discovered.  I was surprised to find out, though, that preeminent linguist Noam Chomsky believes that language acquisition occurred over a short period of time as a result of a sudden gene mutation, while most other experts think it evolved slowly.  Chomsky says: 'To tell a fairy story about it, it is almost as if there was some higher primate wandering around a long time ago and some random mutation took place, maybe after some strange cosmic ray shower, and it reorganized the brain, implanting a language organ in an otherwise primate brain'. While cautioning against accepting this literally, Chomsky insists that 'it may be closer to reality than many other fairy tales that are told about evolutionary processes, including language.' (Wikipedia, Origins of Language)

This brings me to myths, folklore, and mystical stories concerning language.  There are plenty of stories about the invention of language, often imbedded within larger creation myths. What I found particularly fascinating is that the concept of the power of "the word" is basic to virtually all of the world's spiritual traditions.
"We find in the Bible the words: 'In the beginning was the word, and the word was God', and we also find that the word is light, and that when that light dawned the whole creation manifested.... It teaches that the first sign of life that manifested was the audible expression, or sound: that is the word."  - from The Power of the Word.  This same idea is echoed in the Hindu Vedas, in the Hebraic Kabbalah, in Sufism, Islam, Zoroasterism, and many more.

I normally don't like to explain the meaning and symbolism in my work to a great extent, because I believe  each viewer brings his/her own experiences and perception to the piece, constructing an individual interpretation which has meaning for them.  Please don't think that my meaning is the only one; it's simply the perspective from which I created the piece.

The idea of the invention of language and of the creative power of the WORD is embodied by this figure, who speaks the word of creation, OM, in Tibetan script.  The sweeping shape of the dress pattern piece with stitched lines coming from the figure's (other) mouth represent the sounds being put forth into the world, and reinforce the idea of something being made, or created.  The bird in symbolist art has long been seen as a messenger, due to its ability to fly to realms beyond our reach; the map within its body implies access to all parts of the world.

 This part of the piece has so many layers of print and symbols that they blend together to form almost a unified surface.  The red symbol tumbles out of the original utterance from the figure's mouth, breaking open like an egg to spill out letters and symbols.

I started on the bottom part first, before I really knew where the piece was going as a whole.  I knew it was going to be about 'palimpsest' and 'language', but beyond that, my idea had yet to gel.  I was hoping that it would reveal itself as I proceeded.  After scratching and scraping and rubbing paint into the surface, I cut the book cloth and ripped a big hunk of it off, then stuck part of an old piece into the hole (yes, 'hunk', 'hole', and 'stuck' are the correct technical terms).  I glued things on, ripped things off, scraped, peeled, and transferred.  I did lots of this for a long time, and can't really remember what came first, next, or before.  It was very therapeutic!

Some of the first things I glued on were from a girl's high school composition notebook, circa 1931, that I bought at a used book store.  The girl, Margaret Duncan, was apparently quite fascinated with the newly discovered "Life of Our Lord" by Charles Dickens, which had just been published for the first time as a result of the death of Dickens' last surviving family member.  As each section was published in the Lexington Herald Leader, she cut it out and glued it over her own compositions.

I was more interested in her writing than in the newspaper clippings, so I started pulling them apart in places where there was no glue. 

By accident, on the back of one part of the Charles Dickens story, I uncovered an article about the execution of someone from the Dillinger Gang, which you can see in this detail.  In another section, there was an article about the possible repeal of prohibition!  As I scraped and uncovered and dug down into these old books and writings, I felt at times that I was time-traveling- it was really the oddest feeling.  And so it seems fitting, I guess, that I finally finish this on the last day of this year.

I hope you've enjoyed my long and winding explanation, or, at least, that you didn't die of boredom.  Happy New Year, my dear friends!  Happy New Year, Margaret, wherever you are!   Please give my regards to Mr. Dickens, and to the Dillinger Gang.

Scary Christmas to Me

Christmas can be a bit scary.  I don't just mean the whole "getting-the-house-cleaned-&-decorated-(omg- where did we put those ornaments?)-&-buying-presents-&-wrapping-presents-&-making-food-&-no-way-will-I-get-all-this-done-in-time" thing.  No.  My Christmas is even scarier than that.

"What could possibly be scarier than that?" you may ask in astonished skepticism. OK. I'll show you.  Be ready to hide your eyes.  It's-

a blank canvas.  This simple white rectangle has struck cold fear into the hearts of artists for centuries, and I am no exception.  The fact that I hadn't done this type of work in- oh, let's see- since I got my BFA in 1993- served to increase the degree of terror by a factor of about- well, a lot.

But I forged ahead, because, you know- it's Christmas.  My baby (my daughter, who, by virtue of being my youngest, will always be my baby) had expressed to me that she wanted a painting of a big, red, 'abstract-ish' flower to set on her living room mantle.  I chose one of my red amaryllis photos, and cropped it to make an interesting (or so I hoped) composition. 

the original photo

I sketched the composition onto the canvas, bought paint, got out the brushes, took a deep breath, and began.

At the end of the second day (sorry, I forgot to photograph the first day), I was surprised at how far I'd progressed, and was feeling pretty pleased with myself.  I guess it's sort of like riding a bike; it all comes back to you...

...or not.  At the end of the third day, it seemed I hadn't gotten much done at all, compared to day two.  What the heck happened?  Well, I was suffering from a respiratory infection, and it could be that I spent more time blowing my nose than painting.  Sure, that must be it, right?

 

The fourth day was a nine hour painting marathon; I could hardly believe it when I finally checked the time and found it was 4:00.  I'd started at 8:00 that morning, and after being surprised by the time, I painted for another hour.  At that point, I felt it was approaching the way I had envisioned it. What bothered me was the first part I had worked on- the big flower at the top left, which now seemed too flat and too orange.  The stamens/anthers were also a problem; I couldn't decide if they needed to be brought out more, moved, or what.  Two days to Christmas and counting.

The next day I resolved most of the issues.  I repainted the left flower almost entirely, including the stamens, which I moved over toward the right.  I repainted the background for at least the twelfth time, and decided to call it finished.  Here is the final version. For whatever reason, the background color looks weird in this photo, but otherwise it's pretty accurate. 

But then, my final, and biggest fear reared its ugly head:  What if she didn't like it?  Of course she would never tell me; she'd just live a tortured life with this horrible thing on her mantle.  What was I thinking?  The painting really wasn't abstract at all- my own personal style had taken over without me even knowing it!

It was Christmas Eve, so I resisted the temptation to re-paint the whole thing (yes, that insane thought did actually cross my mind), and decided to wait for her reaction before freaking out completely. (Yes, I can hear you all laughing right now...) 

She loved it!  She said she liked it because she could tell I painted it- it was my "style".  Do you think she meant it?  Maybe she just didn't want to hurt my feelings...



OK, now for an abrupt change of subject... I hope you've been reading Seth Apter's online collaborative project "The Pulse" on his blog The Altered Page.  Part three, "Master Class", is now underway, and my answer to the question, 'If you could take a class from one artist from anytime in history, including the present, who would it be and why?' is featured on the Christmas day post.  Please click on the link above or the image below to check it out!

Merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season to you all, my dear friends.  May you be blessed by true peace and joy.

A Brighter Day

It's December now, and our weather is beginning to take on a darker mood- a cold, dreary, gray sameness...

... that seems to hover over us through much of the winter.  John Updike describes it pretty well:

The days are short,
  The sun a spark
Hung thin between
  The dark and dark.

Such a cheery guy, right?  Well, maybe that's a bit overly gloomy; but anyway, on days like this, my mind tends to dwell in brighter places.

 I dream of meandering down the Kinniconick on a bright warm day...

 ...walking down to the place where I sometimes cross over to the island...

 ...hearing the crickle-crackle of the shale as thin layers snap under my feet.

If the creek is up, and running fast,

I'll never get across the slippery sandstones without bruising my behind, and getting very wet besides...

So I'll go back to where it's safer (though still pretty wet)- the point where water flows out of the swirl-hole. That's our "beach" on the left, and the island on the right.

Here's a view looking back at our little "beach" from the island.

Standing on the island, where it curves around the swirl-hole...

 

I gaze across the wide expanse of shimmering green reflections...

... to the tip of the island, which divides the swirl-hole from the other side of the creek.


My little "mental trip" is turning out to be longer than I expected, so it seems I'll have to continue it in another post.  I'm feeling much better now, though- aren't you?