2010

2010 was an eventful year for me. There were travels...New York City twice, San Francisco once, Milwaukee, a few trips to Minneapolis (where my two sons also live), Cleveland/Akron, Chicago, Peoria and others. Each destination held its own adventure.

My etchings were included in seven exhibits in 2010. There are two exhibits that I want to mention:

The Miller Art Musuem in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin held a printmakers invitational group show (March 6-April 20), which included several printmakers with Wisconsin ties.

The Kenosha Public Museum (Kenosha is a city between Milwaukee and Chicago) currently has a show called "The Print Revolution in America" which opened on November 6, 2010. This impressive exhibit includes two of my etchings (one is a recent work and the other is from 1990) and continues at the museum until April 2011.

In November of 2009 I was commissioned by The Phipps Center for the Arts in Hudson, Wisconsin to do an etching for them. I usually don't accept commissions, but they gave me a good degree of flexibility as far as execution and subject. The etching is called "Deep river" and is a scene from Birkmose Park overlooking the St. Croix River on the Minnesota Wisconsin border. On visits to the twin cities (my former home and where another exhibit at Groveland Gallery was), I would drive over to Hudson and work on the etching on location.

My first trip to New York was in January. On that trip, I became affiliated with The Old Print Shop, which is a gallery on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan. I had been aware of it for a few years. The gallery has been in existence for over 100 years and represents contemporary printmakers as well as being a dealer for old, important American prints. Related to this affiliation, I was encouraged to apply for membership in S.A.G.A. which is the Society of American Graphic Artists. It is one of two professioinal art organizations that I am presently a member of.

On my second trip to New York in October, I had the opportunity to show a folder of my etchings to Madeleine Viljoen who is the print curator at the New York Public Library. I showed 15 small etchings. Five of the works were purchased for the library's distinguished print collection.

Lastly, one of my etchings, "Driftless", was chosen to be featured on the title page of the Dane County Cultural Affairs Commission's 2011 calendar, "Flora and Fauna". It is an annual publication containing works by Dane County artists and I am honored to have been included.

I continue to live by my wits. The trips are exciting, and I haven't told you about all of them. I visit the galleries that represent me and value the contact. I call people and show my artwork. Sometimes it leads somewhere, and other times it seems to lead nowhere. Sometimes I say and do the right things. Otherwise, I am capable of doing the converse. I am writing this at a garage in Milwaukee while my van is being worked on for the day. Soon, I will be driving a loaner car to a gallery that is interested in looking at my work. Another attempted appointment didn't work out. Somewhere in the midst of everything I work hard at being a creative artist. This is where my true passion lies. Even when I don't actually have a tool in my hand working on a metal plate, I am thinking about it, how things work, and what to do next. My life is never dull.

PS. I didn't mention Maquoketa, Iowa, Fred Easker, and the interesting studio that I was invited to visit. It is a place you should experience.

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.