San Francisco

I went to San Francisco last week. Pat, my wife, had meetings there, and I went along for the ride. I created my own meetings. We left Madison on Monday morning. Pat was driving to the airport, and she careened down Madison's streets wanting to get there on time. Careening is the expected way to drive in Madison. The heart of the city is on an isthmus. Because of this, there are no freeways going to the center of the city...just streets. If you are going to the capital, you drive on streets...same with the university. I like it. I had laundry left to fold and pack into my suitcase. As Pat drove, I crawled into the back of the minivan to fold shirts and pack them. She heard my grunts in the back. It was centripetal force that was doing a number on me. We got to the airport just in time. As we left home, at the last minute, I grabbed a book of short stories off my shelf...from my college days. On the plane, I drew the landscape below in my sketch book. It was fun and had the same effect as caffeinating me. I also read stories by Salinger, EM Forster and EB White. Coincidentally, they were all about despair and salvation. White's story (Doors) was mostly about despair. Rats, when trained, will approach a certain door to obtain food. When the door is changed, they don't get it and ultimately despair. Humans, on the other hand, will bump into the door, but then go to other doors. White once went to a door for a girl, he went through it repeatedly with wild abandon ("like any rat") until the door changed. His nose bled for a hundred hours. There is not salvation in White's story, but at the end the earth comes up to meet his feet so my guess is that he thinks it is up to us to save ourselves. Hmmm.

In San Francisco, I got together with Ross Halper and his lovely wife, Sachiko. Ross was a good friend in gradeschool. We read Tarzan novels together, watched Johnny Weissmuller on late night television (every Friday night), also read Tanar of Pelucidar, John Carter of Mars. Burroughs (Edgar Rice) could do no wrong. Ross and I went separate ways in high school. He became passionate about opera at a young age. My parents sent me to Norway to visit aging grandparents when I was 11. I asked Ross what I could bring back for him. He said he wanted a Jussi Bjorling recording. I remember sitting in the listening booth of an Oslo record store with my cousin Hellek listening to records of Jussi singing. It was a far cry from the Luxembourg popular music radio station that we listened to every day. Ross, Sachiko and I got together for dinner in San Francisco on Tuesday evening. He brought the record! He said he has it hanging on the wall in his living room. He works in opera by the way; it has been a lifelong passion. He moved to SF over thirty years ago, and sings tenor and directs.

Before this trip, I set up some appointments. I realized a few years ago that opportunities were not coming to me. I realized that I needed to knock on the doors (like any rat?). I called the Legion of Honor art museum and was able to meet with Karin Breuer on Wednesday morning. I also called Arion Press and was able to meet with Andrew Hoyem that afternoon. They were good meetings. Did anything come of them? No, but there is potential, and to me that is what it is about. Sitting on my hands (I never really sit) in Blue Mounds, Wisconsin has never accomplished anything for me. Karin Breuer, seeing one of the baseball etchings that was in my folder, suggested I visit an SF gallery that was having a baseball art exhibit. Late in the afternoon I visited the gallery. The owner agreed to look at my etching (I name dropped). He liked it and bought it. I had been to a famous bookstore on Columbus Avenue (near Kerouac Alley) and had my eye on a couple of books. The extra cash enabled me to buy them guilt free. The biography of Thelonius Monk is highly regarded, and I have been in awe of Duke Ellington for as long as I can remember so I bought the books.

Thursday, I went to a William Wiley retrospective (on Andrew Hoyem's recommendation). It was impressive work. It was in Berkeley at the art museum. As I walked through the campus (google maps had instructed me to take the path through the Eucalyptus grove)I approached and passed the campus center, I heard the crescendo and diminuendo of amplified student voices protesting immigration laws.

I also got together with my friend, Jim Colias, twice. That will be another loooonnnnggg entry, but is an interesting story. I hope I haven't bored anyone. We came back from San Francisco on Friday and were back at home in the evening.

Maquoketa and Iowa's allure

Tuesday the 8th was one of those days. Fasting (no morning cup of coffee) because of lab work at the doctor's office, I ran off to vote followed by a visit to the bank, the grocery, and the necessary lab work. All was completed by 9AM. After a couple of errands in Madison, I was able to get to my studio by noon. In case you have any doubt, I covet time in the studio. The studio is an extension of me.

I was looking forward to spending a few hours working on new etchings that are in progress. With exhibits coming up, I am driven to get things completed. Much is going on, and I am notorious for starting new works and leaving ongoing projects in an ongoing state. At the studio, I remembered that I had told the village maintenance man that I would get in touch with him and let him in to check out a faulty water meter. Several back and forth phone calls and visits to the ailing meter, a call and visit from a neighbor who wanted to borrow a tool, and my valued studio time seemed to have evaporated.

Oil painter friend, Fred Easker had, a couple of months ago, invited me to come to Maquoketa, Iowa where he was going to be conducting a landscape painting workshop. Today was the day for my visit. After failing to get things accomplished in the studio, I left Blue Mounds by 5:30, I would arrive in Maquoketa by my expected 7:30 arrival time.

It was foggy and threatening rain when I got into my van to drive to Iowa. Fred had phoned the day before to give me directions. Maquoketa is a small town between Dubuque and Davenport. I had driven past it before but never into it. I had loaded some of my framed etchings into the van to show Fred's pupils. I also brought some etching plates and the tools that I use. I was not sure what he had in mind, and uncertainty can put me off balance.

For a couple of hours, I was to be the center of attention with Fred's painting workshop students. I don't want to tell you about what I discussed with the students, but I simply want to tell you about the place. It was a surprise and is remarkable. The Old City Hall Gallery is the studio of Charles Morris and Rose Frantzen. If you are interested, please go to their website: http://www.oldcityhallgallery.com Sometimes amazing things occur in unlikely places. I was greeted by Fred Easker and Charles Morris. Fred, who I have known for some time, is an accomplished landscape oil painter. Chuck is, who I was meeting for the first time, primarily an illustrator of children's books. Rose Frantzen was not there, but is an accomplished oil painter. She did a series of portraits of citizens called "A Portrait of Maquoketa". She painted portraits of anyone who was willing to sit for her. There is life in her paintings. An exhibit of the work is presently hanging in the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. It was, to me, a remarkable trip to a remarkable place. It was an unexpected surprise. Arthur Geisert"s etchings were on display on the walls, loose prints held in place with thumbtacks.

I drove back to Wisconsin through turbulent weather. It is a trip and a place that I simply want to let you know about.

Highlandville, Iowa

Last Friday, March 26th, I drove to Iowa again. A niece will be getting married in mid April, and I agreed to assist with a bridal shower that my wife, Pat, and my sister in law, Jean, were hosting at Jean's home. Jean and her husband have a farm outside of Decorah on Big Canoe Road. I was determined to stay in the background, helping with set up, some cooking and being available as needed. As an artist, all of the decisions having to do with every aspect of my creative work and business come from within. No one tells me what to do. It is a breath of fresh air to sometimes do what others ask. While setting up for the shower on Saturday morning, we realized that we needed ice for beverages. I got into my van and drove three miles to the Highlandville General Store. I had not been in Highlandville for over thirty years. It is a place that was pivotal in my becoming an artist. I had been to this tiny town many times during the summer of 1973. I arrived at this small store, which is on the banks of South Bear Creek. I walked up and down the aisles, experiencing strong feelings of deja vu. Getting the bags of ice out of the freezer, I walked to the check out. A man standing by the door asked me if I was coming or going. I wasn't sure how to reply to that. He told me that he was a writer from Omaha working on a magazine article on fly fishing in Highlandville and South Bear Creek. He thought I was a fisherman. I told him that the town's old hospital building had in one incarnation been an art school owned by a Luther College art professor, and that I had attended that school during the summer of '73.

The school at Highlandville was important because it was an environment where I was able to work on artwork under an instructor's guidance in day long classes over the course of several weeks during the summer. The hospital, which was a large, green house, was used as a dormitory, with the drawing and painting studio being in the attic. A pottery was in the barn out in the yard. We did life drawings in this cooled by a box fan attic every day, mornings and afternoons, as well as working outdoors on location. I did not live in the hospital dormitory but rented an old farmhouse with two friends for $75 a month. I also had employment unloading semi trailers in Decorah. I worked at this from midnight until about 4AM. Finishing work, I would go to the all night grocery store and get something to eat. I would drive out to Highlandville and sleep in the front seat of my car, an old Rambler. Someone would come out of the school in the morning and wake me up, and class would begin when I got there. After the intensive day long session, I would drive to the rented farm house, about ten miles away and sleep again until it was time to return to my night time job. These were things that flooded my mind during my short trip to Highlandville.

Back at the bridal shower, it was determined that we needed half and half for coffee. I was asked to make another trip to Highlandville and the store. Looking out in the farmyard, I pointed out the fact that there were about forty cows milling about...and you want me to drive to the store? Again, I had memories, this time of being a child at my uncle Ralph's farm outside of my home town of Hibbing, Minnesota where he would set me down on a stool beside one of his 25 cows, all named after important women from antiquity, and instruct me in the proper technique of milking a cow. Wisely, it was decided that I make another trip to Highlandville and the general store.

On Tuesday, I traveled. Five of my works had been included in an exhibit at the Dodgeville Public Library to coincide with a regional film festival called "Making it Home". I picked up the work, and thinking about the day ahead, I called Vesterheim, the Norwegian American Museum located in Decorah, Iowa, about two hours away. I hoped to show and make them aware of my work. I had my portfolio of small etchings with me. They would see me at 1PM. Arriving in Decorah, I had stopped at Magpie, the local coffee place, for lunch. In a past life, I had known it as Ronnie's Cafe. My meeting at the museum was productive, and I agreed to leave my portfolio with Allison Dwyer who wanted to share it with the museum staff at their weekly Thursday meeting. It will be interesting to see where it will lead.

I went to Phelps Park (see photo). I worked on an etching there that I began several months ago. This is the second state. I worked in sugar lift (as I did in the first state). I positioned myself on the steep hillside, which was beginning to feel familiar to me and worked, concentrating fully on my subject using a brush and india ink laden with table sugar. The etching initially had a few false starts, but now I think I have it to a point where the composition is strong. It is an important place to me with a history that goes back to my first year in Decorah as a freshman at Luther College (1969). I have made a few etchings of the bridge and trail. It was one of my first etching subjects as an art student. Each time, I try to improve on past efforts. I think this will be my best interpretation of the place. I needed to be in Spring Grove, Minnesota later in the afternoon to deliver work to Bluff Country Artists Gallery so my time in Decorah was limited, and I had to make the most of it. BCAG will have a show of my work that begins on April 5th. There will be a reception on Friday April 23rd, which will coincide with the Spring Art Tour. I will be at the gallery in Spring Grove for the art tour. It is a beautiful gallery in a town of about 1,300 people. It is a non profit gallery that is backed by an enthusiastic community. They asked that I include some of my earlier works so the show will be a mix of new and also a sort of "best of" with some etchings that go back to about 1990. When I left the gallery, I was taken by the look of the grain elevator behind Main Street. There was a juxtaposition of the elevator, street lights and power lines with the town's water tower. I had my sketch book, a pen and instinctively knew that I needed to draw this place. The sun was shining and there was (daylight savings) time.

Energized by this activity and the concentration that it required, I drove to Lansing, Iowa on the Mississippi. It is undiscovered by tourism. Fred Easker and his wife, Velga, live in Cedar Rapids but also have a place in Lansing. It overlooks the Mississippi. It is beautiful. They are both artists. Fred is an oil painter who I have become friends with over the last couple of years. They knew I was coming and we went to Milty's for pizza and a visit. It was close to 9PM when I departed, crossed the bridge into Wisconsin and drove the two hour drive to home in Mount Horeb. It had been a busy, productive and enjoyable day.

Recently...

Since my last entry, my life has been quite eventful. The early months of the year are a time that I am able to sink my teeth into working on new images. Some of the etchings have been in progress for a time, but there are others that are just beginning and also those that exist only in my mind. There are also quite a few studies that are done in my sketch book. This is a way of giving the ideas a measure of concrete form. It is also a way of determining if the ideas have a future. Not all of them do.

On the personal front, my mother in law died in January. It was sudden. She was eighty and in great shape. I will miss her. She had always been there, and she treated me like a son.

My brother is an investment banker from the twin cities. He invited me to join him on a business trip to New York. I have never aspired to be a part of that scene. Trips to NYC have always been for enjoyment. This time, however, I tried to set up some appointments to show my work. I did not have much success with the attempts, but I was able to show my work to a gallery called the Old Print Shop, which is located on Lexington and 29th. The gallery has been around for a long time...over 100 years. It is well established. Michael DiCerbo, the curator, liked my etchings. I recently shipped them a package of my work, and they will be representing me in New York. I am enthused about my new relationship with them. I took the subway around the city. I bought 24 hour fun passes so I could ride the subway or the bus all that I wanted. The woman in the ticket booth at the subway station told me how to buy the pass at the automat. She lost me after step 3. I went to the machine and started touching the screen and obeying the prompts. I messed up. Suddenly a booming voice started to instruct me. I thought it was the voice of God. It took me a few seconds to realize that the woman in the booth could see what I was doing, and she started to instruct me over the PA system. You had to be there. I thought it was funny though.

I also sent work to the Miller Art Museum in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. They are having an invitational printmaking invitational and included my work. I have been in one other show at that museum. I have four etchings in this exhibit. It will be hanging in the museum until April 20th.

On Tuesday, I will be traveling to Spring Grove, Minnesota. It is about three hours away. Bluff Country Artists Gallery will have a show of my etchings throughout the month of April. I will deliver the work on Tuesday. On the trip, I will stop in Lansing, Iowa to get together with painter friend, Fred Easker. I will also try to make it to Decorah, Iowa to work on the next stage of the Phelps Park bridge etching that I am doing.

Also...coming up in May will be a show of my work at Paoli House Gallery. It is located in a small town between my studio and Madison. It is a beautiful gallery. It is small, but is the kind of place that I will really enjoy being a part of . Mike and Bev Thom are the owners. I visited the gallery last fall and approached them about my work at that time. The exhibit will open on May 21st.

In February, I was in Milwaukee. My van had suddenly begun losing power, and it is the kind of van that not everyone can work on. I used my AAA membership and had it towed to a garage in Milwaukee for servicing. While there, bemoaning the repair bill that I was going to get, I visited Tory Folliard Gallery. It is my favorite gallery in that city. I can't say for certain, but I think they will be representing me there eventually. I was able to show them my work and they liked it. Their first commitment, though is to work for the artists that they already represent. The possibility is for me exciting. That is my life lately.

Dream house

Since the photos were done, I have been working on the sky for "Dream house". I mentioned that I am using four copper plates. Each plate is inked with a different primary color: red, yellow and blue. The fourth plate is inked with black ink. The challenging part about printmaking like this is the fact that when I am working on the etching, I do not see the results until the image is printed. I am working on copper plates, and that is what I see in front of me. I have to be thinking about the color (and how it will combine with the others) while working on one of the plates. If I want green I have to combine yellow and blue with varying amounts of red and possibly some black. It is possible to achieve an infinite number of color combinations.

People who work in painting become accustomed to painting a color and seeing that color as they apply it to the paper. That is not the case with etching. The color is finally seen after the plates have been etched in the acid, inked and pulled through the press combining colors from all of the plates. The uncertainty is great, but with years of experience, it is possible to anticipate a bit. This is not a medium for control freaks. There are those of us who have learned to take a good amount of delight in the uncertainties of the medium and work within that realm.

Back to the "Dreamhouse" sky. I have been etching the red plate using soft ground and textures. I have also been etching the blue plate using marbling and aquatint and the black plate using marbling and no aquatint. There is no aquatint used on the black plate, because I want to have layers of the dream like marbled shapes, but black (by its nature) can tend to overpower the other colors. With no aquatint, it will tend to be lighter and a little more ambiguous. All of these plates are being lowered slowly into the acid to get a transition of etching depth. The darkest, most intense colors will be at the top and will gradually fade to nothingness as they get closer to the horizon.

At last

Sometimes this profession feels like it works in fits and starts. Momentum is gained and lost. Any artist who is able to have momentum and hang on to it continuously has my highest regard. I convince myself that losing momentum is not necessarily a bad thing. When it is lost, there is the element of feeling frustrated, but there is also the desire to regain that which was lost. It is like a hunger that needs to be satiated. In September, I lost my momentum. I needed to prepare work for my November and December travels (see previous posts). It required that I focus on the printing end of things as well as preparing work for display. Now it is January, my studio has been reorganized, and I am diving into things again. I will not tell you how many etchings I have in progress. They have all been sitting there on shelves, but also in my brain (all twenty of them and of various sizes), and they have been occupying a fair number of my thoughts over the past couple of months.

One of the pieces I am working on, is an etching from the late 1980s. This may suggest to you a certain lack of new ideas on my part, but I insist that it is absolutely not the case. I have always liked the concept for this piece (it was originally called "Waiting"), but I was dissatisfied with how I executed it. It is a color etching (16" x 20"). It was done using four plates. My disappointment with it lies in the fact that I now believe that the execution of the idea requires that I use the colors with much greater intensity. My concept with the first 1980s incarnation of it lead to an anemic print. I am a better artist than I was then. Every aspect of my work has improved. I could go at those weak compositional areas with a scraper and "clean it up", but I think I will work it through as is. I think that with stronger use of color and greater visual interest, any compositional awkwardness or weakness will be minimized. The new title of the work is "Dream house". I will post photos of it as it progresses as well as a shot of the first incarnation. Please forgive my lack of skill as a photographer.

Winter in Blue Mounds

The holidays and their accompanying demands are over. I am looking forward to sinking my teeth into the creative side of my profession. This week, I have reorganized my work area, going through etchings that have been in progress, but were put on hold in the fall. When I make my trips to galleries, there is much time and energy that goes into the trip preparation, and ongoing projects are stopped. This can be good in that when I return to the pieces, it is like starting over. Works that seemed to have been at an impasse, I see with different eyes, and solutions sometimes seem evident. Jesi, if she is able to make it from Madison to Blue Mounds today (we are having quite a bit of snow as I write this), will assist me with regaining my artistic momentum. Jesi has been with me since early 2009. She is my current apprentice. She has been great at helping me with things around my studio. In exchange for her help, she works on her own etchings. I am eager to give her guidance whenever she wants it.

It began snowing last night. I woke up early this morning to the sound of snow plows outside of my Mount Horeb house. When I arrived at Blue Mounds, five miles down the slippery road from MH, I donned my snow shoes and went for a walk along the Military Ridge Trail. I commute on this trail in the summer on my bicycle. It is the source of many of my etching ideas, and I know it well. I had never snow shoed on it before. I took off in the direction of Barneveld, a town which is five miles further down the road. My instinct told me to stay put in my studio and get to work, but how can one resist anything this beautiful. Art is part of my conscious and my subconscious. I always look at things in terms of compositions. Today was a feast for my eyes. There are areas along the trail that I have noted before from the vantage point of my bicycle in the warmer months. These places were equally beautiful this morning. I will try to go out again tomorrow even though the snow will have passed. I will take my camera and post a photo or two. Even with two layers of gloves, my fingers got cold. I passed the state park entrance and decided to walk an additional half mile to a gate that I had looked at a number of times. I stopped at the gate to look before heading back. I had begun to sweat, and it trickled down my face. The tree branches were covered with snow. A squirrel was traversing the tree tops leaving clouds of disturbed snow behind him. The branches seemed to be impossibly small to carry him. He jumped from tree to tree and before long passed over my head, crossing over the trail. Before long he had disappeared from my sight, the only trace of him being the cloud of snow occasionally falling from the branches that he was disturbing. I have often seen wildlife while walking on this trail. When I am on my bicycle, I come up on them fairly quickly and often surprise them. On snow shoes, however, it is a little more difficult. I move slowly, and the sound of the large surfaces crunching through the snow alert any creature long before I get to where they are. I returned to my studio. The exertion and experience was refreshing. I will write more later. I hope you are warm where you are.