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Articles on travel

What’s so wonderful about Sonoma?

It looked very much like a painting from Monet, you sit under a grove of trees and enjoy the richness
and conversation of this amazing place and did I mention you relax, you really relax-so did the dog.
You always hear people rave about Sonoma or Napa and I have always wondered, is it the place or is it the fact that there is wine flowing regularly and really good wine at that. I’m not a wine expert but after a visit to the “wine country” I feel savy enough to at least talk about wines with some form of understanding be it limited. Even just saying the phrase wine country makes me feel like I should be a bit snobbish but I returned not only wiser but still quite humble-wine is a lot more complex than one would think.
My suggestion, go out there with an open mind-it’s amazing how wonderful things happen without having set expectations. We went with the needs of a dog in mind-sounds kind of odd but as open and animal friendly as California is, there are places that don’t allow dogs. So we found top places that were kind to our four legged brethren.
The First place we went was Bartholomew Park winery-it is a boutique winery which means several things when looking it up on google, but the basic idea is hand-made, micro-lot, single vineyard wines available exclusively from the vineyard-that’s from the vineyard text. When we first arrived, I was in awe about how my heart rate seemed to slow and the intoxication of the surroundings seemed to naturally relax me. There are golden grape vines with vivid leaves, some harvested and others with great juicy clusters bursting from the vines. You are surrounded by mountains on either side, soft rolling mounds of green that build a feeling of calm and contentment. There were fountains and flowers and the light was amazing making an early afternoon look more like the electric hour as everything just seemed to glow in warm green and gold. In every direction I could just get lost in the open, natural beauty and imagine hundreds of years of wine harvest that enriched the area and more than pleased its patrons.
We had a food plate to complement the wine- everything on the black slate tablet was amazing from the incredible olives to the delicious crustini with a dip of goat cheese pesto. Our wine expert was well versed in her craft and I learned so much about wine names, wine locations-the Europeans describe their wines by the region we Americans tend to describe them by the species of grape. I have never had a more pleasing taste of zinfandel or realized before why some wines are white, red or rose. I also learned about tannins and sulfites, and how crisp whites come from stainless steel fermenting and some of the chardonays and the heavier reds come from oak barrels. I even voiced some buzzwords out and we laughed at my obvious lack of being a connoisseur but I feel I left the vineyard quite a bit more knowlegable and loving wine even more than previous. So why do I love wine so much-personally it is the soothing high that you get from drinking it. It is almost like the earth giving you a feeling of calm and contentment with a wonderful flavor that changes and evolves as you slowly savor it-and yes a good wine needs to be savored-okay now I’m sounding snobby.
Next we went to a local whole foods market and got gnosh-okay now I’m really getting into this whole language. We decided to have a picnic at the next winery-Kunde. I got to enjoy a cave tour where the sweet smell of oak barrels filled with assorted varieties of amazing wine filled the room at a cool 57%-I was in heaven. I learned that not all barrels are created equal, some are burned inside, others burn the top or bottom, some are from France, some from Germany with varying prices and intent as prescribed by the wine maker. We even got to taste the swollen ripe grapes that were so sweet and like no other grapes I have tasted-I became not only a bigger fan of wine but I now have more appreciation for the wonders of the grape.
The picnic was just wonderful as the wine-I really fell in love with the sauvignon blanc- very crisp and delicious with a fruity finish. Wow I am really learning the whole dialogue. But enough about my wine prowess or lack there-of, I promised I wouldn’t become a snob. So what’s so wonderful about Sonoma?-for me, it’s just the feeling of passion that these wine growers and manufacturers exude that seems a breath of fresh air in this fast paced, packaged society we live in. It is the true quality of what they make and how everything they do is purposeful and steeped and tradition and quality. I tasted the best grapes I’ve ever tried from one hundred plus year old zinfandel vines-these old vine zinfandels are quite a sight to see. I imagined generations of wine growers and their families living off and giving back to the ground. And just as much as the amazing wine and interesting people it is the peaceful calm of the haven that is Sonoma that you could not help becoming intoxicated with its charm and beauty. I will be back and not just for the wine.
Articles on travel

Caladesi Island State Park Florida

We paddled out across the blue green expanse, about two miles or so and it was like being explorers discovering a new and unknown paradise. Okay, other people had found it but with the wide open, uncrowded area of bay that surrounded the island state park the feeling of peace and freedom was amazing. We could see the bottom for most of the way out with schools of bait fish running through the clear water and an occasional stingray dashing across the white sand.
We paddled the kayaks to where we could get out and stand in the shallow flats, being not as prepared as the rest of the group, I spent more time keeping my kayak from wandering off. No one caught anything but a man on a paddle board came by and mentioned he could see a small school of bonnet head sharks, they are small hammerhead sharks and I was disappointed that I didn’t get a glimpse of them. 
We all hung around  the pass, parked the kayaks and watched as a storm passed us by and the cool breeze was so welcome after paddling across the bay. I will have several paintings of this area with the storm and the silhouettes of fisherman. I also found some horseshoe crabs along the beach and interesting birds and wildlife. It was such a beautiful day and even though we didn’t catch much, a bad day fishing is better than any good day at work.

Articles on travel

How far is too far? Out of cell service, unprepared, stressed-

Our whole trip was originally planned around a trip to Kentucky and more specifically Dale Hollow Lake. We were going on a guided smallmouth bass trip and hoping the elusive fish wouldn’t skunk us again. I should have realized how far off the map we were when we arrived at the lake with no cell service.

After a long day of travel through the southern portion of Kentucky, a two mile trek deep into the longest cave in the US-Mammoth Cave-a 400 mile long cave system. I was disgusted when they looked at me and asked if I was okay for the tour-I did just fine by the way, just fine. It’s a dramatically large cave right up until you get into the depths where you are squeezing through tight areas-it seems every time we explore a new cave , there is always something different from the wildlife to the stalagmites and cave bacon, for Mammoth cave I would say it was the size of the ceiling and the history  that was literally etched on its walls.

After driving all day, we were ready to relax and enjoy our cabin. Unfortunately I learned that in Tennessee-we needed a youth license even though my son was only fifteen-can’t find his social security card and can’t buy his license without it, try to explain to someone on the phone how to find the paperwork where his number would be-unfortunately very weak cell service and short memory on my part made this very difficult. There was one place where we could use the cell, on the top of the mountain, in a small area where we must have looked like lurking criminals parked on the side of the road in the middle of the night.

Stressful, frustrating evening finishes out a rather exhausting day. Up early to go fishing, misplaced license, unprepared for eight hours on a boat and another day we end up fatigued instead of relaxed. I was the only one that caught a smallie and it was a pretty reasonable size. Now I realize that eight hours on a lake when your not catching anything is a bit tiring especially when it’s unseasonably warm. It always seems that there is a point in a vacation where the fatigue or the cost of the trip catch up with you or perhaps its just the fact that face it, you always forget something or fail to prepare-in the end it’s what you do with it that preserves the memory for the better.

Next on our agenda was Gatlinburg, an amazing ski town in south east Tennessee. I’ll be honest I was looking forward to being in a  town that had lots of people and was less remote. First stop, a small barbecue shop that my son found in man vs food-it was in Knoxville Tennessee-Dixsons’ Barbecue, the idea of finding great places to eat has turned into the texture of this trip and my son has not failed as of yet, Dixsons’ was no exception. A very modest trailer with a very interesting cook who I would have loved to spend the afternoon talking with and in retrospect we probably should have. We had these ribs that had a spicy kick that we have tried to decipher but it was an incredible taste and well worth the trip. The presentation, wrapped in tinfoil and put in a paper bag, felt like locals and one actually did remorse the fact that there weren’t as many true quality barbecue left in Knoxville-we were happy to have experienced it.

I fell in love with  Gatlinburg right away, even before we got to  Gatlinburg. There is a long road through Pigeon Forge with amazing buildings and tourist attractions that felt like we had taken a turn to fantasy land. From Dollywood to the Titanic and wonderworks-we were intrigued by the different activities that we could experience in Pigeon Forge and we definitely will return to explore all the bits of fantasy you can experience just in view of the Great Smoky Mountains. We were on to Gatlinberg and I was happy to get there.

Articles on travel

Artist Senses

Where would the artist find the colors
When he’s moving too fast to feel them
To taste the flavor
Of daylight…
To immerse in evening splendor
The smell of honeysuckle and jasmine
The feeling of the seasons like the main course
Of a meal
Its amazing how the senses all connect
All complement each other
Though we rarely connect them
Or imagine tasting the sweet viridian
Of early spring all fragrant and gently hued
Or thirsting for the autumn evening Prussian blue
A taste of burning wood and the sweet sadness
Of endings and decay
How does an artist find their colors, or feel alive

Without devouring the senses this way
Articles on travel

The first day of the creative spring

Cannas_from the Cape San Blas Series

I have been walking around in somewhat of a daize as of late. Ideas come in bits of clips, it’s almost like trying to build a house when all you have are screws and a couple of wooden boards-nothing materializes but the parts seem to overwhelm you. I should be patient by now having gone through this process for so many years but it seems the older I get the more profound and extreme the stages seem to be.

I have played with multiple ideas and images in my mind, stories and poems need to be written out in notes just to keep the initial inspiration but nothing gels. I have actually recently walked into my studio after insisting I was going to paint this  particular weekend and when I am faced with empty canvases or even canvases well on their way to something I stare vacantly with nothing there. I even try to rotate a canvas out for another and switch to pastel but then end is always the same-NOTHING.

I can even force myself through and get to that point of pushing paint around but it is like painting with no instructions. I have compared it to someone painting by numbers and suddenly all the lines and numbers disappear. Than there are days like yesterday-a painting that sat there staring back with discontent and suddenly we are on the same page again-or canvas. I almost equate the canvas like a teen that can’t explain what is bothering them and suddenly we have that cathartic talk and not only do I know what the problem is now I have a way to solve it.

Urban Sunset

I sat in front of four paintings for short bursts of time and than suddenly within hours I have several different clarified paths that actually seem to be heading in a great direction. The problem with the creative process is that tomorrow they can all seem like disasters-it’s almost like the creative eye opens and you can see the details that the logical eye seems unable or unwilling to connect. Suddenly the big blob of paint becomes the shadow that instinctively knew where it needed to fill and the form that seemed so cryptic previously lends itself to the correct perspective and the right hues and values. I am about to go in and paint again-not only has this weekend brought lots of painting but my words are actually falling off the page as well-in the creative realm it rains or it shines but oh when it shines it really seems more brilliant than  anything in comparison.

Articles on travel

Carmens’ Delicious Catering: Food as Art, Art as Food

Carmen’s Delicious Catering has this as a tag line for their product, it comes from the fact that during the process of the business becoming what it is today she had lots of interactions with artists such as the pilchuck glass school. In truth cooking in the hands of a passionate artist heightens simple food to the essence of a work of art.
Consider the cook as a painter only their palette has even more colors than the artist, their colors are the many flavors they weave together much like a painting-each flavor supporting or interacting with the other. The wonderful thing about food is beyond just the flavor there is texture, presentation and aromas-when done correctly the simple meal touches all parts of the senses even further than the two dimensional canvas.
The secondary dimension of food is much like the flavors in wine, the fact that you don’t only see, smell and taste-you experience. Food becomes the tradition; the amazing memory-it attaches itself to places and people.  Food reminds us of our relatives, it brings back conversation and a sense of tradition.

Food colors our vacations, our travels to far off places and instills itself in culture and tradition, Which brings us to another of carmens’ tag lines-Bringing people together through food-it is often the centerpiece for good times. It complements our celebrations and brings comfort to our difficult times, it is the warm soup after shoveling snow, and it is the cool ice tea and bowl of fruit in the heat of summer.  Speaking of the bowl of fruit, how many artists have painted the still life and showed us how food is art and art in response is food.
Articles on travel

The Still Life Painting-Memory versus Setup

I have never been much for the still life-I tend to paint landscapes, seascapes, anything nature oriented but recently because of Carmen’s’Delicious Caterings’ food as art and art as food tag line-the first of many still life became a necessary project.
It’s hard to paint on demand, for me anyway-I either feels it or not. The first painting was of a still life of an August picnic, complete with watermelon-kind of the centerpiece, grapes, tomatoes, peppers and the corn on the cob to finish off the picnic. I set up the still life on a wooden board and stared at it intently with nothing moving. It was one of the hardest paintings because it just didn’t do anything for me. I had the basic idea of the sky and the warm greens in the background and the foreground seemed to just lie there. All I can say is through discipline I found a place between capturing the still life as it is and weaving in my own feeling of the late August picnic seemed to fight against each other-logic and simple rendering fight as it always does with the creative and the figurative idea of the day. This is what I paint, even in the landscape-I rarely paint the place, it’s more the feeling of the place and usually when the logical rendering becomes stronger than the feeling of the place it seems colder to me.

The second in the series is an autumn gathering of pumpkins, squash and a cornucopia of good colors and flavors. Again the feeling of the sky was the first things that really jumped out at me and the under painting seemed to capture it so perfectly that it jump started the next step. This time I did not set up a still life-I gathered images and relied more on memory. The sudden and rich flow of paint seemed to surprise me. The painting pretty much did itself. The colors of autumn work so well against each other and the fact that I love the cool answer to summers’ heat seems evident in the way the painting took shape-also I must admit that the previous painting was done during a time of great creative block and this second in the series is at the beginning of the unraveling of my creative slump. Several other paintings began to take shape at the same time, but even still I weigh the difference between painting from passion and memory versus painting a set up still life and for me the memory works better than the real thing.
Articles on travel

Learning to see again

Learning to See Again

I photograph things that don’t make sense. It’s when you question their sense or try to alter the basic idea for the sake of others interests or the sale of such photographs does the image become plastic and contrived. I used to shoot fences in the field, sunsets on the edge of simple roads without the idea of selling them. My only downfall was actually selling a photograph and changing the way I looked at shooting.
At one time it was trying to find abstract images to show interesting patterns in nature but if you’re not really excited about them, how can you possibly convince the viewer to be. I shot a photograph for an electronics firm which I worked for a week trying to get it the way it needed to look for the ad-unfortunately for me was that the success of that photograph stirred my ego. Suddenly instead of an artist with a tool, I became a professional photographer looking for the next image to sell and nothing good would come of this.
I remember I had connected with a stock company and was trying to find an image of a taxi in traffic or a police officer standing near a crowd, the scavenger hunt does not lend itself well to creative spirit. I remember the last photograph I didn’t take that really messed my whole sense of photography-a bouquet of flowers on a gravestone was reflecting the early afternoon sun, it was in Palestine Texas and instead of shooting it, I thought about it, how and why should I shoot it and where would I sell it-I passed it by and my punishment was a lack of being able to see beyond the obvious.
This weekend I got away from my life, I feel almost like a ghost in a sweet purgatory, I got to look back as a child would on photography with not the slightest fear of getting it right or wrong and suddenly simple things become photographs to me, they say things beyond what they are at a basic level and that is what I believe elevates the snapshot to the insight on our everyday lives.

With the feeling of peace and confidence I have begun shooting freely and I see a bit of a difference in the outcome, it’s less about how the photograph comes out and more how I initially see it. The scavenger hunt of photography is how objects, images and their colors appear to the artist eye tell their stories-it is our jobs as artists and photographers to tell their stories and let the viewer find their own stories in those images. I am excited for the future of my photography as I have learned to see again.
Articles on travel

Van Goghs’ Last

Van Goghs’ Last
You were thirty nine
And unjaded
How did you do it
There’s a madness to beauty
And you mastered the art
Anyone who knows about him
Would realize where I’m going
Or went
Slashes of blues and purples
The yellows turn to gold and red
Streaks of crimson across the ceiling
A sunset over the brides head
The landscape of poppies in distant fields
The blackbirds
Did you find an answer
And was it in cold black steel
A silver flash across the sun flowered field
Did anyone tell you it was taboo
To feel
Rich red hues answer questions
About that day
Black shadows and rich glorious corn
As the sky becomes all starry at night
Did you spend too long in those yellow halls
Those broken shadows and faceless walls
The poor, the hungry, the sick, the poor,
Didn’t you ever wonder what if
One more
One final view from the beauty of madness
One last stroke of color mining emotion
From a dark place
Did they ever tell you not to feel
Might as well put all your colors away…..

Let this beautiful canvas finally heal?
Articles on travel

The Electric Hour Appears

Electric hour approaches,
The yellow leaves and the brilliant greens
Stare through the window
With a voice of pacific breeze
I can smell the flavors of rosemary and fennel
Colors on the edge of gardens
Bursting out for one last show before autumn comes
I sit in the cool window seat
I feel the season change
Crows mock the afternoon light
I stare from a vantage point, high above the golden leaves
In spirals on concrete 
walkways and the sea beyond the sky
Blue green and sailboats tilted in the gentle breezes
Still tired from the walk up mountains
In deep green forests
With smiling faces out of breath
A drink of warm red wine on the corner
cars pass by in routine

I am outside the membrane
A stranger to a peaceful place
The pacific breeze through windows 

wakes meI feel the calm of this peaceful life
Basil adds the hues and flavors tasted
Green tea and sparkling water
If I take a breath I might wake up
And all of this would be gone

If I open my eyes all of this will be gone
There is a current that twists and strives inside
As constant and violent as the tide
I feel the sadness for every fallen leaf
I feel the sadness for time passing
and the beauty of days elicits the emotional response
quiet in the other room
the silence of an early afternoon fall
2014, afraid of watching time pass by too quickly
Afraid of life and time awaits me
I’d take a breath but I’m afraid of waking
And stirring my eyes,
witness the stream of time
                                                                      Like sand through loving fingers strive
                                                                      The electric hour approaches

                                                                      And soon it will be night…