paul's art

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

gan eden ...

"garden #2", oil on canvas, 1992.

the studio is really cold again today - and though i could probably tough it out - the paint wouldn't like it - not for the things i'm currently doing ...

as i happen to be writing an intro for the 'neuro' archives, i realize being confronted by similar issues in '92 which eventually forced me to cordon off a small, heatable portion of studio and produce barbizon-scale paintings ... not likely that will happen again, but i do have to wonder why i've never been able to time my residencies in warmer climates a little better - poor planning perhaps, but it may also have to do with retreating to the comforts and familiarity of the cave for reflection and rejuvenation - as Plato as that might be ...

this year the challenges will undoubtably overshadow any concerns for heat; since i've come to a point of having to decide what comes next, where to go, and how to continue along this path - though i'm acutely aware of the daily scope of things, new decades bring this out in me - but then again, who's to say when they really begin - after all, jupiter is rising in pisces ...

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

neuro series ...

meiosis, watercolor, circa 1992.

between working on a few new large pieces, office admin, and archiving images for the website, i did my daily jaunt around the web-block to visit friends and inspirations - one of the people who remains at the top of both lists is my dear friend, the poet, Michael Lally - who is successfully recovering from brain surgery - it shivers me to even think of it - i mean, nothing gets more personal than exposing, touching, or modifying that organ - nothing ...

over the past eight weeks he has dutifully checked in to write on his blog about the process - and even when he isn't subject-specific about it, you can follow the recovery through his organization of thoughts - kind of, "read me think" - like the way we used to learn to read - 'see jane run', etc.

coincidentally [and i question that], i was up working pretty late scanning photos of the 'Neuro Series' - a body of small works i did in the early 90's and thinking about the difficulties in applying personal preferences to conventional methods or codes - for instance, i enjoy unedited stream of consciousness writing as much as i do technical journals, formal novels, etc. - but, like music, there's certain styles that fit the consciousness of my paintings - like detailed and interactive modal improvisations or just plain assemblages of thoughts and ideas where the syntax is denominated by the original impulse - a transcendental experience ...

unfortunately, it's often seen as gobbily-gook by the guardians of formality or even friends trying to GPS my current activities ...

my favorite, among authors who have successfully applied the technique was Jorge Borges in 'The Aleph' - and granted, he laced it into a coherent story line - but when i first read this passage it was like smelling all the aromas of home:

"I saw the teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered labyrinth (it was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I'd seen in the entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of sand; I saw a woman in Inverness whom I shall never forget; I saw her tangled hair, her tall figure, I saw the cancer in her breast; I saw a ring of baked mud in a sidewalk, where before there had been a tree; I saw a summer house in Adrogué and a copy of the first English translation of Pliny -- Philemon Holland's -- and all at the same time saw each letter on each page (as a boy, I used to marvel that the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight); I saw a sunset in Querétaro that seemed to reflect the colour of a rose in Bengal; I saw my empty bedroom; I saw in a closet in Alkmaar a terrestrial globe between two mirrors that multiplied it endlessly; I saw horses with flowing manes on a shore of the Caspian Sea at dawn; I saw the delicate bone structure of a hand; I saw the survivors of a battle sending out picture postcards; I saw in a showcase in Mirzapur a pack of Spanish playing cards; I saw the slanting shadows of ferns on a greenhouse floor; I saw tigers, pistons, bison, tides, and armies; I saw all the ants on the planet; I saw a Persian astrolabe; I saw in the drawer of a writing table (and the handwriting made me tremble) unbelievable, obscene, detailed letters, which Beatriz had written to Carlos Argentino; I saw a monument I worshipped in the Chacarita cemetery; I saw the rotted dust and bones that had once deliciously been Beatriz Viterbo; I saw the circulation of my own dark blood; I saw the coupling of love and the modification of death; I saw the Aleph from every point and angle, and in the Aleph I saw the earth and in the earth the Aleph and in the Aleph the earth; I saw my own face and my own bowels; I saw your face; and I felt dizzy and wept, for my eyes had seen that secret and conjectured object whose name is common to all men but which no man has looked upon -- the unimaginable universe."

Jorge Luis Borges, The Aleph

now that's the way my brain works - every 'thing' inter-laced with another - spilling over, and flowing - so when i think of a subject and allow the gates to open, an endless stream begins to flow - a cornucopia, or wikipedia of inter-related data - and to think it all begins with a single synapse firing ...

so i agree with my friend Lally: "observe it as it happens and think about the mysteries of the brain and the ways it works and organizes thoughts. Hmmmm." ...

Monday, January 4, 2010

meditations ...

"origins of memory", triptych, oil on canvas, 5'h x 12'w, 1989.

i love books - the feel of paper, turning the pages, the smell, and the way memories, while reading them, mingle with the content - they always become more than they are, and maybe that's what the original book-makers intended ...

my first reading of Marcus Aurelius' "Meditations" was in high school some 40+ years ago - it was one of those little books i always dug because you can stick it in your pocket and pull it out anywhere for reprieve, inspiration, diversion, etc ...

appropriately, this one, accompanied me through many walks in the woods where i grew up - usually with my dog-eared copy of "Walden" - and somewhere along the way, when my legs got rubbery, or there was a perfect rock and vista, or the rhythm of my soul was right, i'd back up to a tree and take it all in - a mind, body, spirit thing that comforts unlike anything else - and i've spent a lifetime chasing it through a spectrum of experiences ...

so here we are in 2010 and i'm reading Marcus and Henry again ...

"but i have seen the beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and recognized that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own - not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind, and possessing a share of the divine ... we were born to work together, to obstruct is unnatural ..."

M.A., "on the River Gran, among the Quadi"

Sunday, January 3, 2010

being and becoming ...

"being and becoming what?, pastel on paper, 1988.

okay, the last of the trilogy from days gone by ...

i really don't like doing things in even numbers - a 'monk' thing i guess - and even though there were a few more pastels on black Arches paper done at that time, my documenting procedures left something to be desired ...

had a buddy in NYC back in those days - Alexander X. - a Greek guy who went to Syracuse [of course], and loved to read/ponder philosophy ... as it is with all my relationships, their influence spills over ... thank heavens i've had so many interesting friends ...

i'm reading Marcus Aurelius' "Meditations", and he mentions the same in 'debts and lessons':

"all things for which we need the help of fortune and the gods" ...

Saturday, January 2, 2010

for annie ...

"for annie: time to demise", pastel on paper, 1988.

another of the recently rediscovered pastels from the 'moon tigers' period - and one of those gut-wrenching favorites ...

my cousin [through my 1st marriage] - was a beautiful, vivacious, and talented advertising artist who lived in San Francisco and Santa Monica during the late 70's and early 80's after a successful career in NYC - she was also responsible for introducing me to California - the untrodden and funkier side ...

Annie Sinclair was a gift in my life - and showed me how small the world gets when you stay true to your dreams and work hard, at a time in my career when i was standing at the base of the mountain ... there was also a darker side that her accomplishments never seemed to brighten - an impermanence and impetuousness that concerned me ... so i was shocked, but not surprised, when i heard of her demise from an auto accident off the cliffs of the Pacific Coast Highway ... it depressed me and launched a period of existential reaction and inquiry ... this pastel was only the beginning ...

the piece began by notating excerpts from an E.A.Poe poem by the same name - something i memorized years earlier - and though i'm not a big Poe fan, it stuck with me ...

For Annie - E.A.Poe, 1849

"Thank Heaven! the crisis

the danger is past,

and the lingering illness

is over at last -

And the fever called 'living'

is conquered at last ..."

whenever i'm in CA, being by the santa monica and venice ocean has always been a daily activity - and in that routine, i always pass one of the most distinguished 1930's bungalows along the walk - Annie's, at lifeguard station 23 - and we still talk ...

Friday, January 1, 2010

resolute decision ...

"to resolute decision", pastel on paper, 1988.

i couldn't resist - it being new year's day and all ...

while archiving, i came across a few images that i barely remembered making - but was pleased to be reacquainted with them ...

if you can see past the Heidegger, Kierkegaard, and Kant - and even a little aboriginal influence, the image is pretty compelling - pastel on paper is a luscious medium - and it still has the vibrancy it did 20+ years ago ...

rosy fingers of dawn ...

from this vantage point, it's impossible to project what 2010 will bring - but my wishes for the very best for everyone persists ...

there's something about the beginning of the new year, a new decade, and a turn-around from the depths of winter that fosters optimism - we need to maintain this in our hope to evolve and our struggles to survive - there's merit in the power of positive thinking ...

yesterday - last year - i managed to squeak under the wire to publish my web site - something i've thought about and worked on for a few years, but usually abandoned because results fell short of objectives - over the past couple of months the sites' development entered into the realm of 'acceptability' by achieving the content i was after - clarity, determination, and the wise guidance of friends are wonderful gifts ...

anyway, www.paulharryn.com is now official - there's still thousands of images of paintings, people, and places that a 'blessed life' has yielded and still need to be archived - but i've done my best to provide a comprehensive display that documents the development of my work through an exciting period of art and cultural history ...

i'd like to hear what you think through comments or emails ...

again, my best wishes to all for the new year ...