Art as Autobiography

I was thinking of getting into the whole "what is and isn't art" thing and had second thoughts about it.

I don't want to get smart-assed about that subject, but all it is is an argument waiting to happen.

we'd get bogged down in the mire of is-so!-is-not!

Totally counterproductive. I don't want to wade into that.

Check out the movie "Vincent and Theo" and/or the documentary "Who the $%#& is Jackson Pollock?" and you can have an art argument with yourself. And anyone else but me.

Every generation rejected artists (musicians, writers, painters) that following generations declared geniuses of their age.

People will respond to what they like, no matter what certification it has or lacks.

No one likes Barry Manilow, but 20 years ago the man had sold over 45 million records. I read that in a Rolling Stone interview. He probably has sold over a 100 million by now.

Nobody would admit to liking Mr. Manilow or his music. Someone must have been lying, don't you think? I just picked Mr. M as a metaphor for taste. Success in the arts is often measured by monetary success, except for Barry, I guess. Maybe there's another category ... secret success.

It takes a few generations to see what hangs around to define the overall culture of a people.

Me? I don't care about that any more.

I've found that I do what comes to me to do. I wouldn't mind being popular in some way because a lot of my paintings are the capturing of moments I experienced. A sort of "Wow, look at what I saw!" If more people were in on that exchange, it could become a conversation.

A gallery once existed here in Tallahassee called the Explorers' Club. I thought that was a great name. In my imagination, artists showing there had just returned from a trek and their work was a report of the safari to the club. Public welcome. Lecture at seven, refreshments will be served.

It occurred to me lately that most of the art I did was just that, a report on my trek. A view of my body of work will show most of the places where I've lived or visited, some of the people I've known and a few weird ideas or takes I've had on life.

Every picture tells a story, don't it?

The painting at the top, "Sunshine and Stream," is a view of the park in our old neighborhood, Indian Head Acres.

I must have looked at that runoff stream in the park throughout the 15 years we lived there. I also painted several other views of the same park. Just couldn't avoid it. There it was, right in front of me.

What's in front of you every day? What things do you notice that make you want to say "Hey, look at that!"? Tell me about it. I know what you mean.

More pictures and stories will come.