Tunstull Dashing

As if it were real

2012-01-07T22:09:00.000-08:00

Sleeping near the water has always had an effect on my dreams, at times leading to vividly unsettling awakenings. In the movies, when the protagonists are suddenly awakened from a disturbing dream, they sit straight up in the bed, with a startled stare in their eyes and sweat on their forehead, as they gasp for breath and gulp at the reality of it only being a dream. Or if it were a younger person, they would be awakened by the gentle pleadings of a vigilant family member in a bathrobe, coddling them in their arms and assuring them of their safety. These dramatic flourishes seem to only exist in movies because, in my experience, I have rarely sat up in the bed with a start or had someone, already awake, tapping my hand or patting my shoulder but rather found myself roused in the physicality of the nightmarish moment as if it were real.

Usually the moment comes upon me without warning or prescience in the dream. And usually, it follows one of the recurring motifs of me struggling to collate documents for something, travel from one place to another - whether around the corner, cross town or to another country - or trying to get to one of the ever mutating multiple residences I seem to have but have misplaced or lost directions for in these dreams. The rig-a-ma-roll in these ventures tend to be benign until it leads to a disagreement, usually with someone emotionally close, and escalates into a yelling or fighting match, which will awaken me hollering or shouting at the person and in an instance, hitting my partner, even if it wasn't about him. Other times the dream is interrupted by an unanticipated turn of events, like a animal suddenly lashing out and chasing and biting at me or walking through a door and abruptly encountering menacing figures lurching at me with claws or weapons or slipping from an unstable surface off into an abyss looming below.

Weaving toward awakening, still in the moment, crying out in the dark, with hands or arms flailing and fear or anger filling my body, I grasp for safety. My accelerated heart beat adding to the throbbing of nerve endings, as my pulse races and my breathing shortens. At times, I would unfortunately awaken my partner with a scream or punch, inadvertently pulling him into my nightmare, from his own restful sleep. Scratching for the reality that it was only a dream, seems to elude me in the ensuing moments because it felt so real. The space between our dreams and real life does not exist in these moments and reveals to me that we essentially tread between two worlds - the conscious and unconscious.

The reason for these turns in dreams is unclear and can be assumed to rest in the unsettled issues of our wakened hours, however, the closeness of them to our reality is not below the surface but actually there as a racing heart and the startled face of an awakened lover might reveal.

The next moment can wait

2012-01-04T03:53:00.000-08:00

For the briefest of moments I forget that my life is more than basking in the sunny atmosphere of bright smiles, warm embraces and loving kisses from friends and the locals here in Salvador. The morning walks with buddies, the afternoon passage on the beach and evening dinners in outdoor restaurants are among the swirl of activity that eclipses concerns of cold days back home. As I pretend that my life is in the here and now, I still veer toward the things that must be in place upon my return. The thoughts of supplies and syllabi, students and models, colleagues and confidants, stir in my mind, as breezes flow over my sun baked body. My languid stroll along the promenade, at times, is undercut by the internal scheduling of trains, planes and buses in my head.

This consciousness is hard to maintain in a land where things operate in a fluid motion, attendant to what happens next rather than what is prescribed. This moment is what matters, is a concept I willfully use in my daily life, but for it to truly work it has to be unconscious. Here in Salvador the people seem to know that there is no rush to get to the next moment when the present one is before you. The chance encounter that could lead to a long talk, walk or lunch is a common happenstance. Having a relationship with someone or something, like the sun, surf and sand, is enough to fill one's day. My goal is to carry this way of being into the colder climes of the northeast, and not be rushed by chill or prescription, because the next moment can wait.

Please check out the new website tunstullstudio.com

No Pre-Packaged Holiday this year

2011-12-17T09:52:00.000-08:00

Pre-tied glossy ribbons, shiny ornaments and gleaming wrapping paper hung above the reams of tinsel and pin lights for mantles and trees, next to adorned plastic wreaths, scented candles and rotating tabletop trees with fiber optic lights that blinked at me, as I searched the shop aisles for something that would trigger the elusive Christmas spirit, I was looking for in the store. Displays of wrapped gifts with pine cones and holly, cooking recipes to stretch a waistline and decorating ideas, jumped from my TV screen, in between commercials for toys, clothes and cars, filling my unfulfilled spirit with longing for a more generous way of sharing the Christmas spirit.

As I leafed through local papers, filled with smiling faces offering me holiday discounts that would disappear if I didn't act quickly, I wondered if anyone of them cared if I had the spirit of giving or just the capacity to spend. The requests for donations to the needy, that fell from my mailboxes, both physically and electronically, trying to reach that left over space in my heart and on my credit card, was met with a cool indifference, knowing my name was one of thousands generated from an unsolicited mailing list. Electronic gadgets that seemed to sprout new generations every holiday, capture my interests in gizmos, for a moment, but do not elicit a spirit of Christmas in me, anymore than a snow shovel would.

As I think back, the things that had triggered the spirit for me were sharing time and good will with family and friends, with little more than happiness and gratitude as a gift. The debt laden guilt that often follows last minute gift giving is different from the freely given love and appreciation that a drop by visit on a snowy day could provide. Breaking bread together or sharing a cup of tea, does more to spread joy to the world than an unappreciated gift, whether it was a good buy or not.

As we pull ourselves out of a long struggle for economic balance, we can look at more ways to give the spirit of Christmas to our families and communities. Items that not only benefit a retailer’s bottom line but employ local manufacturers and those they touch, rather than those a continent away. As I purchase local items, here in Columbia County, like scarves from Jeffrey Aronoff, gloves from DeMarchin and handmade knits from Spruce Ridge Farm, the feeling of impacting not only those I give the items to but who made them, makes it full circle for me. The gift of supporting those around me, seem to provide a spirit of giving that extends beyond myself, touching my friends and and community altogether.

A snowy reprieve

2011-12-08T13:42:00.000-08:00

I awoke in my own bed, with a view of crystal clear skies and a wintry white landscape of overnight fallen snow, from my bedroom window. The unpleasant option of spending the night in a freezing car, parked at a closed gas station, with my two house guests for the weekend, by a miracle, didn't materialize after all.

The long slog to this outcome started with heavy rains battering us as we left the Poughkeepsie train station from Manhattan. Piling into my car quickly we braved the buffeting of rain, with the windshield wipers at full speed, for almost an hour, as we made our way north to Columbia County. The rain gave way to sleet and we slowed the speed of the car, as the road surface became slippery, and the windows thickened with a congealing slush. I had heard earlier that snow was on its way but had hoped we would skirt the brunt of it, as we sometimes did.

The heavy sleet turned out to be the more desired climactic condition as it soon turned into flurries and then a full blown snowstorm. We tried to make light of it, commenting on the interesting pattern that the flakes formed as they rushed to block our view of anything else on the road. The desolate roadway had a few tire tracks that we tried to follow in an attempt to remain on the road and avoid skidding on the icy surface. The white-out conditions and the reduced speed left me disoriented and unaware of where I was on the oft traveled road. Suddenly a phone call from Joe, who had landed at the Albany Airport and was making his way home from the north, was met with concern and trepidation as he told of over shooting his exit and being mired on a shoulder embankment, in the pounding snow, twenty miles away in the opposite direction. My first thought was to go get him once I dropped off our guests. With our godson, Ricon Wrenn's cellphone running out of batteries, my own cell lost a week earlier, and Angelique Anderson's phone indicating a loss of power and of signal, intermittently, we vowed to stay in touch with Joe.

The mounting snow on the road had us traveling at 20 mph, with an ever-present undercurrent of subtle and terrifying skids along the way. The mounting fear that we would eventually slide into an embankment and be stuck there all night led me to get off the Taconic Parkway an exit early. Hoping that the roads would have been cleared more was met with disappointment as the thick snow with tire tracks proved harder to negotiate. Steering first in one direction and then another, like a sailboat tacking along a roadway we inched forward, gaining momentum on the downhill, and spinning tires on the slightest incline. We had put off changing to winter tires because of a busy schedule and a deluding warm fall season. The delayed mistake was proving to be very costly emotionally for myself and my intrepid guests.

Joe calls us on the phone, with the ebbing battery, and tells us a truck had arrived to help another person, stuck where he was, and possible he might get the truck to help him. My concern for his driving the twenty miles home on the Parkway was weighing on me, knowing he hadn't changed his tires either. If we were having trouble, surely he was too.

At least now passing darkened houses, which were going to be possible safe havens, we continued on, haltingly, toward a local gas station. Unfortunately, we overshot the entrance, sliding to a stop at the traffic intersection. Forging onward, fearing the effort of turning around, we passed a police car aiding a trapped car on our right. Perhaps it was the sight of someone else getting rescued, we suddenly careened off the road into someone's yard about fifty yards further ahead. Unable to go forward into a hedge or to backup, we knew we had had it. Three hours after starting this one hour journey, we had been forced to end it, on a cold roadway in front of a blackened house. Then suddenly a large white man runs towards us from his car, to ask if we were alright. I thought he had gotten stuck too but he had really just stopped to aid us. Using his formidable strength he proceeded to push our car out of the embankment. With a little maneuvering we were back on the road, tacking from one side to the other, with Gods hands moving us out of the way of the occasional oncoming vehicle. Our saving angel followed us to the gas station nearest our house, which was about five miles away before heading off to save others.

Now parked next to a filling stand, we weighed our options. Do we try to follow a road plow, that may or may not go all the way to our house, and risk getting stuck again on the outskirts of town at one thirty in the morning, or just wait there until the sun rose and the roads cleared for driving. Joe calls and weighs in that we needed to contact local friends, AAA, or a taxi service. Except for our friend Jelanie Bandele, the other calls went unanswered, and she was in Brooklyn. The chill in the car was beginning to wash over us as we gave into bedding down for the night there, when we saw a snow covered car turn the corner that we thought might be a taxi. Beeping my horn frantically, the car turned into the gas station and turned out to be a patrol car with a policeman named Sargent Guy. After explaining we were five miles from home but was afraid to try and get there he offered to drive us there himself. Angel Number Two, Sargent Guy of Livingston, packed us into his patrol car and drove us to our destination. He was patrolling the many communities that night for situations and people in distress like us. He used his spot light to light our path as we made it up the quarter mile long driveway to the house.

The relief of being back home at last allowed me to appreciate the glow of the white snow, emanating light across the grounds, as we trudged the length of the distance to the awaiting warm house. Upon walking in the door, we receive a call from Joe saying he found a motel to weather the rest of the night and we all slept peacefully that night, at last.

A wedding to remember

2011-11-27T11:53:00.000-08:00

From the first moment that the sparkling octaves of Samantha McElhaney, singing Ave Maria, soared through the massive marble columned hall in the National Building Museum in DC, the 750 elegantly dressed guests, assembled in circular rows around the central fountain, knew it was going to be a night to remember. The hundred foot high royal blue curtains framing the room overlooked the porcelain fountain that had been spanned by a bridal arc festooned in gorgeous red, pink and white flowers. The wedding procession filed onto the bridge to the sultry lyrics and voice of Gordon Chambers. Officiating the marriage and ten year re-commitment ceremony of Corey McCathern and Reginald Van Lee was our friend, the Justice Vanessa Gilmore of Houston. On a lit dais, at one end of the room, the encouraging words of connubial bliss were offered in a touching and funny way by Susan Taylor and her husband Khephra Burns, who sighted the coincidences of life that conspire to cause perfect unions to form and admonished the crowd that "when you have to argue, do it naked." The exchanging of vows that followed could not be more heartfelt in their deliveries or more gender neutral in script and were finally punctuated, at the other end of the room, by the rousing medley of two love songs by the lovely Vivian Reed. With everyone now on the edge of tears, the passionate embrace and kiss of the newly minted couple was met with a splendid light show and glittering shower of gold butterflies from the ceiling.

The blue ascending curtains parted on cue, to the choral voices of more than fifty singers from the WPAS amassed aloft in a second floor balcony, heralding the next venue where the guests were set to mingle and greet one another under the lavishly decorated space. A stunning centerpiece of a floating floral tree with dangling birdcages filled the overhead space. Greeting old and new friends, Joe Steele and I first encountered Audrey Smaltz and Gail Marquis, whose own wedding two weeks prior is highlighted in today’s New York Times Style Section. As Joe spoke with Eric Michael Dyson and Julianne Malvaeux and Desiree Rogers, I circled the room greeting dear friends Norma Jean Darden, Nadia Fattah, Lola West, Sheila Hardy, David Martin, Peg Alston, Allen Harvey, Alison Arnold-Simmons, Antoinette Steward, Deborah Chatman, in a vintage necklace worn by Lena Horne, and many more. Well known actor, Tamara Tunie was stunning in an aqua gown, as she spoke of her upcoming feature film with Denzel Washington.

After a time the curtains parted again and the crowd migrated to the dining room with tables adorned in flowered birdcages, overhead floating trees and colorful fantasy birds painted on what appeared to be Lesmoges dinner plates. A stage drenched in blue light filled one end of the room and singers performed as the guests took their seats. The delicious fare was served up as Reggie and Corey were toasted over and over by friends and loved ones. Pamela Joyner, a self-professed twin of Reggie, gave a toast to the three p’s that Corey possessed and made him a wonderful partner, positivity, protection and patience. She wore a white gown to go with the white shoes that Reggie had given her for her wedding.

Upon the last toast the blissful couple cut the two cakes, one fashioned as a stack of Louis Vuitton luggage and the other of a peacock ascending a white layered cake, created by my friend Margo Turnquest Lewis' company, Cake Bliss. At this point, the newly married couple became the masters of ceremony and introduced Ron Brown’s Evidence Dance Troupe, which performed to Stevie Wonder’s “All I do, is just think about you”.

With the crowd fully roused by the performance, Reggie tells us that Corey has something to say. With that Corey steps forth and announces, “DIANA ROSS is here!” Probably like many others I expected an impersonator to step out on stage, but the inimitable voice of Miss Ross reverberated through the room and the elegant crowd instantly rushed forward to the stage with cameras and cell phones capturing her image in every digital way possible. She sang three songs with Reggie and Corey on stage at one point, and then disappeared as quickly as she arrived. Floating on surprise and elation the crowd settled into the most festive mood of the evening and tried to reconcile in their minds and hearts what had just happened. Dessert was served and with our appetites quenched beyond belief, and the dance floor warming up to a hot night, we left the wedding night to remember.

The Art of Giving Back

2011-09-29T06:35:00.000-07:00

The large exhibition space was already full of well-heeled New Yorkers when I arrived, just fifteen minutes after the opening of the Art of Giving Back event, for the UNCF, at the School of Visual Arts Gallery, on West 26th Street. Dressed in the looks of the moment, the crowd peered at an array of artworks that spanned time, taste and style. The list of contributing artists, curated by Natalie Jones, read like a Who's Who in the African American panoply of creative visual arts. Legends like Romare Bearden, Richard Mayhew, Lois Maillou Jones, Norman Lewis and Faith Ringold shared space with emergent Ramona Candy, Paul Goodnight, Leroy Henderson, Philemona Williamson and Glenn Tunstull.

The benefit's goal of raising money to support the multitude of national programs the United Negro College Fund has in place, assisting African American student achievement, was a worthy one pursued by many that night. The crowd was filled with some that I recognized and some who remained incognito. A number of my collectors were there lending me great support, well wishes and hope.

The inclusion in the exhibition represented a long held dream of being included within the ranks of such noted artists as listed above. I met a few of the mentioned artists as indicated in photos below. As my works filled a large wall in the main room they seemed complementary in this stellar lineup.

Dancing in the Dark

2011-09-15T09:02:00.000-07:00

As I escaped along the FDR Drive, through the crush of New York's noisy and congested traffic, the highway eventually gave way to the open country roads, with the first drifts of falling leaves, floating about like the soft shimmer of a dancer's gown on a breezy afternoon. Playing repeatedly on the stereo was the wafting rhythms of string and woodwind instruments and the lilting voice of Diana Krall in her version of "Dancing in the Dark".

The sounds had placed me in a peaceful mood, as I relaxed into the two hour drive that seemed to be condensed in time through the musical wave I found myself on. The sultry lyrics spoke of seduction and survival, the inescapable twins of existence, that fortified my spirit as I edged closer to home and Joe, who awaited me there.

As I left the pressure of the city for the fresh air and open spaces of nature, I still carried the responsibilities of the week. At times the only way to confront the challenges we face is to dance into them...in the rhythm that suits us best. As Diana sings in the song, "We can face the music...twooo...getherrrrr."

Dancing in the dark, of unknown futures, we move forward...on the breeze of steps we have taken, with hopes and wishes wrapped in the music of our lives...facing movements and moments that explain "why we're here." The time melted away on my drive home, just as easily as the years have grown, and in that moment, floating softly on the warm emotions of the notes in the song, I knew I could go on dancing in the dark...

The Magic box

2011-08-21T08:52:00.000-07:00

The day unfolded like a circus act, with friends arriving early in the day and continuing throughout until it was time to make our way to the gallery. “It’s your day” was the tag line so many uttered when offering me encouragement for a good day and great show. Like from a magic box that holds unseen wonders, beach chairs, umbrellas, music, food and drinks appeared in amounts unimagined moments before. A constant influx of friends arriving on island for the show descended on the house turning it into a full-fledged beach party. The wonder of it all was that it was completely unplanned. Because many artists suffer from anxiety on opening nights, my friends sought to make sure that it was minimized for me by celebrating our lives together all day.

As a result, when I walked in and saw the colorful paintings arrayed about the gallery it was a continuation of the fun, light and color that had been my life for the last year. The festive colorations worn by so many of the guests, suggested by the shows title, Vineyard Colors, filled the rooms and overflowed onto the outside garden and street. Color radiated from friends like Connie and Preston Williams and later the McLaurin family that had just returned from meeting with President Obama, wearing that inevitable glow that comes from proximity to the pinnacles of power and celebrity. Zita Cousen wore the same luminosity for the same reason, as she graciously greeted me at the front door.

The many faces of friends warmed me as they shared abbreviated conversations, well wishes and admiration for the new work. Stories of how, where and when they became collectors allowed me to see more clearly how welcomed the work has been over the years. These created children of my mind and spirit had found homes that they were loved in and somehow, for some, begged for new siblings to share wall space with. It is hard to let go of your children but one must, for by giving them the gift of life you give them the power to enhance other lives and spread your influence further than if you did it alone. To touch a life with love, is all we need aspire to, for a happy life.

At the end of the night as the last person walked out the gallery, and we said good night to Zita and her wonderful husband Michael Brown, the circus of light, fun and love, magically went back into the box, but the memories remain.

A respite of activity

2011-08-19T04:29:00.000-07:00

Returning to our place, from the beach, on the second crystal clear day since the rains, we rushed outside to wave to the helicopter, flying along the route of the lagoon out back, bearing our President's arrival to the island. The discussion all day on the sandy beach had been about when the Obamas would finally arrive, with people reading the tea leaves of parked vans, helicoptors, secret service movements, etc - divining his imminent arrival amidst reports of last minute scheduled economic meetings and redundant right wing objections to his vacation. On an island of otherwise nonplussed residents, the frenzy, albeit much calmer, could still be felt. Though some of the enthusiasm has been dampened by decisions made and on-going challenges on the financial and global scene, the support for him and hope for the change he represents still exist, though with a more realistic awareness of what's capable by one man and one branch of government. Universally agreed, however, was the fact that he needed a break for regeneration as much as any other person.

Having dropped off my work to the Cousen Rose Gallery for the show earlier in the day, I was relieved of anymore responsibility regarding it. A sort of floating on freedom sensation took over momentarily. I don't know if it was not having something to do or no longer having my creations around me, who have kept me company for the past year, with their individual demands for attention. With this emptiness in mind we made our way to the opening of Jeanine Primm Jones' portraits at the Featherstone Gallery. Her reception was well attended by her subjects, soon to be subjects and the culturally heeled residents of our community here.

Since arriving five days ago, it has been a nonstop flurry of events that started with Myrna Morris' modern dance themed paintings that opened the day we arrived, and the Faith Ringgold presentation of her famous quilted artworks at the gallery next door, and Carole Simpson signing her new book, News Lady, that same evening, as we spoke of a painting I had started of her. Though the heavy rains dampened outdoor activity for a couple of days, it was back with a vengeance with the Illumination Night celebration in the campgrounds that brought thousands of people out to ogle at the lit lanterns festooned along the bric-a brac detailed Victorian cottages. Starting with a crew from Bill and Brenda Cavette's BBQ we made our way through the festivities to Wesley and Judy's annual party. Everyone seemed to be warmed by the nostalgic impression of a bygone time when summer evenings glowed by candlelit porches and happy greetings from passer-bys. The Disneyland like atmosphere of this experience today, however, only allows for the dimmest idea of what it once was.

Leading up to my show on Saturday has been yoga and beach visits, meeting many friends, like Nancy Boxill and Dennis Thompson from Atlanta, a bid-whist party we threw and going to the Charles Ogletree panel discussion on race and the media that started with a tribute to Berry Gordy at the local high school, along with Amy Goldson, and my partner Joe Steele in tow. Adrienne Childs was astonishing the jewelry loving women on the island with her original creations, among her many talents, at a trunk show she held at Cousen Rose Gallery.

Notwithstanding a few road blocks for the Presidential caravans that are likely to occur, we are venturing out for the many other events that will culminate in my own show on Saturday. Forging ahead with confidence in a future we collectively build one by one, on the wings of ancestoral dreams - today will be even brighter tomorrow.

Today is my birthday (7/29)

2011-07-29T05:54:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday. (7/29) As a child looking forward to that day each year when things were set aside to celebrate ME, I grew to associate those numbers with everything good, and because it wasn’t a national holiday and unlike being a twin, I didn’t have to share the date, either. Since then a countdown begins the week before, with a subtle excitement that builds toward the day, that still hasn’t left me. I rarely have parties any longer but the celebrations continue with wonderful well wishes and greetings from friends and family. The desire to make it special with little kindnesses is deeply ingrained, though the impulse to take the day off, travel to far off destinations or buy absurdly expensive gifts for myself are indulgences I've outgrown.

That one day of the year that we hold special and is ours for no other reason than we were born on it, is an amalgamation of numbers that we unwittingly possess throughout the year, and, consciously or not, we are reminded of on calendars, clocks, room numbers, license plates, promotions, receipts, phone numbers and addresses. Those two to four numeric combinations trigger a response that attaches the time, place or thing to us in a deeply memorable way, as if that thing is part of us too. How often have we committed to memory a cell number or address because it’s composed of our birth dates? A locker combination, password or email address is often infused with that combination that spells out who we are, just as much as our names.

In the study of numerology, the vibrations of numeric compositions cast a fate and quality of life that perpetually repeats itself throughout. Life paths numbers (the adding up of your birth date and reduced to a single digit) and significant figures often correspond with uncanny recurrences in our lives. My own life path is a 6 and it symbolizes things and relationships that increase in value. These symbols are affixed to us in a guiding and protective way that assists us in making choices. Their vibration, like our voice, is unique and stands as a distinguishing element of our individual existence. However, we can all relate to others who share our special dates, like some type of cosmic twin, always with the hope that they exemplify the qualities we like to see in ourselves.

Everyone’s birthday is a cause for celebration, whether they want to admit it or not, and we honor them and ourselves when we do so.

Rose Dawn 36" x 36" oil on canvas

Dabs of turquoise...

2011-07-20T03:03:00.000-07:00

Five in the morning finds me dabbing strokes of turquoise across a large canvas of a woman at peace with the sea. The early morning of quiet reflection is induced by the songs of birds awakening to a new day and the early light filtering in through a window over my shoulder. The woman breathes before me in tandem with the swirl of aquatic movement that suggest summer on the Vineyard. More and more my mind turns toward the moment I will be there among nature, friends and family sharing new memories to come.

As I look about at the paintings that have been created this year I see moments shared in each, like notes of time marking what we have been through together, and like friends I want to hold them closer. The strokes that work and didn't work, the colors that fit and didn't fit, conspire in the unknowable dance of opportunity within each dab of color. Like everything in life, it is not knowing that gives it the spark of excitement, that spurs us on to another day.

As this early morning brightens into this day I look forward to what I don't know about the next dab of turquoise.

Below is a mention of the show in the latest issue of Art Collector magazine.

Giving and Receiving

2011-06-23T07:12:00.000-07:00

The cooler mornings that give way to warmer afternoons followed by cool evenings are a welcome relief this week as I spend it in the Hudson Valley away from my classes in the city. The summer session was one of the most exciting times I ever had. The energy from working with such eager students has infused my own painting projects for my show. The desire to be better is all an instructor needs, to have them give the world to a student, and it is all I needed to take my efforts to the next level. The next few days are filled with painting watercolors, oils and gardening before I begin a new summer session next Monday.

As I prepare for the show opening on August 20th at Cousen Rose Gallery, I am mindful of the many friends I have that has helped me get here today. I am currently writing a book that bring many of you who are reading this into my heartfelt memories. Some of you have turned the wheels of my life into the direction I now flow. A word or gesture is all it takes sometimes to aid a person's journey. Sometimes much more, like letting someone move in with you, paying for a college course or liking their love interest, which may seem small to the person giving it, but can make the difference in whether someone chooses to survive or not. We have all given and we have all received. Take a moment to remember those that gave and asked for nothing in return.

As my students from all over the world departed this past week, I was thankful for the rich cultural experience they gave me without even knowing it. In a classroom setting, who is the teacher and who is the student, is always the question of the moment.

There are those people...

2011-05-18T17:50:00.000-07:00

There are those people who will come out and support you because of who they are to you and more importantly, who you are to them. Those cheerleaders that have your back whenever you need it because they realize that whatever success you have is their own, as well. There are those whose own dreams include the hopes they have for you, knowing they are one and the same. Your happiness is something they share with you, just as surely as they share your pain. When possible they act to further the former and soothe the later.

There are those whose way of showing their love is to be there when you call, whether they can be there physically or not, but are there, in such a spiritually supportive way, that you can feel their presence as if they were. Many of these people came out last night to support not only me but all the other artists in the African Modern Art Show. That included Mago, PJ Cobbs and the Bangally African Expo. We gathered last night at the Casa Frela Gallery for the annual fundraiser for Project Enterprise, the Harlem based funding source for under-resourced communities throughout the five boroughs.

The supportive crowd enjoyed the company of the artists and one another over drinks and refreshments to the melodious strings of the Kora played beautifully all evening as pictured below. The showing will be up until May 22nd at Casa Frela Gallery at 47 West 119th St. Please stop by when possible to see the exhibition.

The relativity of Spring

2011-04-10T23:24:00.000-07:00

Last night a breeze from the open window poured over us like a cool drink of water, stirring the blades of the overhead fan and washing away the musty air out of our room, long closed up from the winter chill that pressed against it for months. In a night long embrace we re-synchronized our breaths to the sweet taste of the welcomed spring air - after Joe's week away working in Nairobi. The relatively warmer temperatures have opened the first of the yellow daffodils, acting as harbingers of nicer days ahead, as they dotted a still barren landscape, scarred by winter storms and heavy snows. Like gardeners, with the thaw, we turn our attention to the opportunities that the upcoming season offers, clearing away the dead and worn out and replacing it with the fresh and new.

The relative warmth of this nascent spring reminds me of how cold its been this winter, and yet these same temperatures seemed so chilly to me at the end of last summer, when the leaves turned colors too soon and the days shortened too early. But as every cycle completes and restarts we learn the lessons well and take them to higher levels with each successive spiral. For many of us, the natural cycle of a wintry downturn caused some flow of assets to freeze up, and reduced others to a trickle, forcing us to find new incoming streams that could soon turn into rivers of opportunity, in the promise of an economic thaw ahead. With each new blossom that opens, it carries with it a new day of hope, bright with the unfolding dreams we work so hard to achieve.

In many ways, the challenges we face are a better choice than those of other nations who have been ravaged to a greater degree throughout their troubling winters, and the relativity of it needs to be kept in mind, as we burrow out of our own. The possibility of an easier and quicker recovery seems to elude us, in many cases, because of political machinations seemingly designed to thwart growth for the benefit of the few over the many. The question of what type of government we want is bandied about, with the general intent of prescribing little or none at all. For those with resources, that may work, but for the relative masses that need support, it will not. As this spring unfolds, we must be vigilant of the crops that are unfurled before us to ponder, and work to clear the weeds that distract us from the clarity of vision we need as individuals and as a nation. The relative options may not be evident...with all of the growing misinformation creeping into our mindsets - but it is. And it is up to us to sort it out for one another and to take a stand for our beliefs.

On a positive spring note, please remember the annual benefit for Live Out Loud, the great organziation that provides so much assistance to LGBT teens in America. Their Young Trailblazers 10th Anniversary Gala takes place on Monday, April 25th, 2011, from 6:00 to 9:30 pm at the TheTimesCenter, located on 8th Ave at 40th Street. If you can attend, please do. If you can purchase an auction item, please do. If you can contribute, please do. If you can tell a friend, please do.

Aging Gracefully

2011-03-31T07:35:00.000-07:00

I called my Aunt Lil, my father's sister, this week to wish her Happy Birthday on her ninetieth birthday. Many of us have relatives and friends in this age category if not older, but she is an astounding specimen in my opinion. First of all, she has never worn glasses, used a cane, had hearing or speech problems, neither has she suffered from hereditary diseases, loss of mental faculties or degenerative illnesses. In fact, she has never taken medication. She is certainly as lucid as anyone I know and maybe even more so than myself. She takes care of herself and her home in Atlanta, where two of her daughters share the house with her. She is as feisty as ever and still amazingly beautiful for a woman of any age.

When we spoke she said to me, “I went to see my doctor recently for a physical, and he told me he had to speak with me. And I thought to myself, ‘What’s wrong with me now?’ ” In her slight twang from Kentucky, that she hadn’t quite lost even after living in Japan and in the northeastern US for years, she continued, “Well Gleenn…he told me to come into his office and sit down. Then he said, ‘Mrs. Tackett…as you know I have been a doctor for many years…and so I have had many patients that are in your age group. However…I have NEVER had one that did not have at least something wrong with them that I had to attend to.’ She chuckled, "He then said, 'I can’t even offer you any medication because there’s nothing wrong with you.’“ Then she burst out laughing, me right along with her, about as happy and proud as I could be.

This kind of dovetails with what she said when I saw her about five years ago. She had told me about how once a doctor had given her some medication to take. After her return visit to him, she told him “’I don’ like takin' medicine.” The doctor asked her ‘Why?’ and she said, “I don' like how they make me feel…and then you run out and have to refill them all the time.” To which he said, ’Well, here is a larger prescription so that you don’t have to refill them that frequently.” She went on, “So I took the prescription, and when I got outside, I tore it up, threw it away and never went back. That was over twenty years ago.” Though I hope I have her genes, she is one of the few of her siblings that are still alive, so my goal is to take on the attitude that it is at least a possibility to live healthily into my nineties.

Our relationships with our doctors are partnerships where, if everyone does their part, to the best of their abilities, the results can be stellar. I often think of my doctor as a mechanic diagnosing the vehicle I call my body. He does the tests and inspections and shares with me what our options are. If I’m lucky, the recommendations will be mainly dietary or physical exercise, and in some cases, he may suggest medicines that maintain its ongoing balance and operation. There have been times in my life when the fuel and motor oil I've imbibed were less than useful nutritionally or times when additives I consumed were actually harmful. Over time I became aware of the general decline that comes with age and made corrective changes, like tuning up my chassis with yoga. Some of us are driving vehicles, like Aunt Lil’s, that just seem to hum along in relative ease, no matter what we do or how long they run. Others might feel like they have gotten lemons, that require patching, from time to time, getting a few more hundred miles out of it before the next time a tune up is needed.

In any regard, it is our spirit the drives the body, and gives it a reason to get to where it has to go. And like our mobile conveyance, so too, the spirit itself requires maintenance…like peace and quiet, rest and relaxation, love, affection and creative stimulation… in order to be a vital power source. In these pursuits we must be our own doctors and know when to give these things priority.

Versailles Models Remembered

2011-01-24T15:29:00.000-08:00

Back in the day, like every young "fashionista", living for everything fashionable, we talked endlessly about fashion designers, models, photographers and illustrators, from our lofty perch at the WWD art department. With a front seat to everything new and cultural on the horizon, we were consumed with the impending showdown at Versailles...where five young fashion forward designers and their coterie of black models were throwing down the gauntlet to French counterparts, in November of 1973. The brainchild of Eleanor Lambert, the event changed the dynamics of the fashion world, by casting the American designers as creators of youthful style and energy. The distinguishing crux of this turning axis was the inimitable verve of the sashaying young black beauties, that re-calibrated that moment, in fashion, into what the future of beauty and style would become. Billie Blair, Alva Chinn, Pat Cleveland, Norma Jean Darden, Barbara Jackson, China Machado, Bethann Hardison, Charlene Dash, Ramona Saunders, Jennifer Brice and Amina Warmsuma - wearing Stephen Burrows, Oscar De La Renta, Halston, Anne Klein (Donna Karan was her assistant then) and Bill Blass - waltzed down that runway and into fashion history. Knowing they had won the contest between the American and French design houses, but unaware of how much they had truly recast the nature of the business, they soon found themselves and others on every runway and fashion magazine in the world, bringing cultural diversity and vibrancy to life, everywhere.

The historic significance of that moment was celebrated in high style at the Metropolitan Museum, through the tireless efforts of Donna Williams, our hostess and Chief Audience Development Officer, along with Thomas Campbell and Harold Koda. The light filled setting for the luncheon in the Temple of Dendur brought together style setters, designers, writers, journalists, celebrities and artists who shared an appreciation for these beautiful pioneers and what they had done. The American spirit was alive in the room, and reminds me of what we are capable of doing when the odds are against us. In a time when women of color were not considered among the beauty standards in fashion, the unexpected act of showcasing them as such, jolted the mind and filled the senses of the unsuspecting audience. America's ability to surprise the world with the new and different is a national strength that cannot be underestimated and is a boundless source of inspiration for others. As Oscar De La Renta remembered of that moment, "We were one that day." And as ONE, our ability to win is increased.

Donna Karan, Iman, Liya Kebede, Veronica Webb, Renauld White, Jason Wu, Ruben and Isabel Toledo, Sam Fine, Lynn Whitfield, Kathryn Chenault, Cicely Tyson, Veronica Webb, Audrey Smaltz and Soledad O’Brian were among the celebrants.

ABC Evening News feature on event.

What makes a person memorable?

2011-01-19T03:06:00.000-08:00

What makes a person memorable? Is it the way they look? Or the way they sound? Is it what they say or don't say? Or is it what they have or don't have? Is it what they make you do or don't do? Or is it how they make you feel? What is it that causes us to hold onto the memory of those that leave us for a period of time or for good? We need to ask ourselves these questions because we will be left to the memory of others someday, and there will be no chance to prepare, alter or fix how that memory will be held.

From the moment we are born we begin creating the memory of who we are. That essence reaches out to the world, fashioned on our dreams and realities. Throughout life, others will attach their dreams to your reality, and give you the responsibility, in some cases, if those dreams do or do not materialize. The memory we leave behind is often based on how others perceive our role in advancing or inhibiting their lives. While we are alive, we have the ability to form our residual memory, for better or for worse. However, the moment we transition, that memory becomes the province of others, who will select the elements to illuminate. How we make someone feel is what will percolate to the top, and hopefully, we made them feel good.

The sad and unrelenting transition of our vibrant friend, Bill Freeman, on January 15th, as we flew in from Rio, hit us like dense turbulence from above, as we made our way back into our lives here. Left only are the memories of how he made us feel. How that warm smile broke out across his face whenever he saw us. How he warmly and respectfully introduced us to many people who are our dearest friends today. How he shared of himself, with a generosity reserved for kings. How his bountiful spirit was infectious, and one took up the cause of helping others just by being around him. Bill was on everyone's invitation list, not because he knew so many people, but for his gift of bringing them together. I remember running into him at a fundraiser, where I didn't know a single person, and through his many introductions, I left feeling like it was the best party ever. Many of us know the act of adjusting our plans to be available for one of Bills intimate dinners, for fifty of his dear friends, on the Vineyard. He could be counted on to be at weddings, christenings, birthday parties, openings and closings. He was there to give healing encouragement at one's bedside and to hold your hand through difficult times. He would be front and center, near or far, to honor a friend who had transitioned before him. He supported young and old alike, and could be counted on to be there if needed. These are the memories that he has left so many of us...and many of us do not know where we will turn without him.

Like so many of us, he could be faulted with human foibles....but those are not the things to remember about him, because that would say more about us than him. To pick apart the "rights and wrongs" of a person's life, is a favorite sport, when a person leaves us and are no longer there to protect, form and create their memory. We can, in our highest selves, embrace the best of the memories we have of others, or we can devolve into the temporal sport of debasement...the choice lies within us. One's memory lies in our hands once they have passed on, a role and responsibility we cannot take lightly. What makes a person memorable is what we chose to remember...and what we will be remembered for, as well.

Taking time, gives time

2011-01-11T11:08:00.000-08:00

Huddled in the shade of the vine covered entrance to the restaurant, named Ramma, along with a long line of customers, patiently waiting to pay for the health conscious fresh food, we just had for lunch, I fumed with irritation about how slow every transaction in the steamy metropolis of Salvador, Bahia, seemed to take. The lovely preparation of diverse offerings, that I had relished only moments ago, had faded with the onset of my New York impatience. Calmly listening to my piqued rumblings was my luncheon companion, Carson Phillips, who had just engineered the signing of a contract, to have my work represented in Brazil by the famous Paulo Darze Galerie. A followup meeting the next morning with the noted David Bastos architectural firm, required a presentation in Portuguese be prepared in the waning hours of the day.

My hubris in thinking I had no time to waste in a line, where the single smiling cashier, engaged in polite conversation with each customer before me, should have faded in the quiet calm that existed all around me. I remember thinking that Salvador would be a better place if its residents were more conscious of others' time, if they would cut some of the red tape and layered processing and conformed to a more American model of efficacy. In my mind, a New York minute would not hurt the city one bit.

That was until I got to where my CD had to be assembled and printed and found that none of the files could be opened because of an incompatibility in software. After many tries, including running back home to retrieve my own computer and re-formatting every image three different times, we finally found a solution. After struggling with the issue for over three hours, the calm leisurely attitude, I had complained about earlier, turned out to be a cultural Godsend on that late hot summer afternoon. The tech guy, never grew impatient or bothered by the time it took to make it work. As the sun disappeared and the evening lights and sounds came alive, it made me realize something very important....patience is a grace you give others that makes your own life easier. My laments about how long things took, has been replaced with an appreciation of how the Brazilians spend time with friends, neighbors and passersby, sharing moments of joy that creates a sense of community and continuity with all.

We have had many opportunities to see the beauty of life in Salvador this trip. Now we are in Rio visiting friends. Below are a few photos of our time in Brazil.

Sparkling possibilities

2011-01-01T07:14:00.000-08:00

As the crescendo of sparkling lights exploded and lit the black sky, in the warm crest of the night in Salvador, Bahia...and then dissolved into the breaking waves below...the struggles of 2010 melted away in the euphoria of marking the end of one period of time and the beginning of a new one. The sudden bursts of lights and its climax caused me to reflect on the challenges that reared up suddenly and consumed so many in the previous year. It seemed as soon as one fire was extinguished another flared up. In our day-to-day lives we carry on from one project to the next, filling time, space and emotions with efforts that carry us on in an unending stream of solutions, implementations and results. Yet, just as one ends another begins and the sense of finality eludes us in these ever evolving pursuits.

However, the New Year's Eve celebration allows for the one moment in time, each year, where even previously started works take on an new air of opportunity. A freshness of purpose and perspective fills even these lingering projects with a burgeoning sense of new possibilities. The diet and exercise plan that had fallen on less-disciplined times is taken up with a new commitment, the career that seemed to sputter is re-engaged, romances that may have slipped into resignation can be ignited and our systems and processes can take on new reforms. Man, woman, businesses and governments alike, mark the change in time in a way that daily leaves of times are not afforded. The accepted end of one phase for the potential of a next phase fills us at this time of year, providing hope that may have gotten lost along the way.

The New Year's celebration is less about fulfilling the dreams of others, as the preceding Christmas holiday seems to be and more about the fulfillment of one's own dreams. We are reawakened around what can BE for us...with each jolt of cascading light that fill our consciousness, we are reminded to reach for the spiraling and lofty ambitions dreams are made of.

Taking on this moment, I look forward to the fulfillment of the person I was sent to this earth to be...a completely gratified, satisfied and grateful spirit.

"Thank you" for....

2010-11-25T04:30:00.000-08:00

I routinely start each day saying "Thank you" for the smallest of things that exist in my life. A seemingly small expression that barely points in the direction of what I truly feel when I am happy with something. Being able to give gratitude for all that I am aware of, fills the space where doubt and fear could easily grow."Thank you" for the good night's sleep that has given my body rest and new dreams to live for. "Thank you" for the full breath I have just inhaled, that comes from fresh air, swirling through trees, mountains and seas to fill my lungs. As I stand up for the first time today, I am thankful for the steadiness of spirit that allows me to rise on strong legs and well taken care of feet, that has taken years of effort to achieve.

It can be so easy to sow doubt, within ourselves, about what isn't working in our lives and in our country. So, today, as to not dwell on what can go wrong, I say "Thank you" for all that is....being careful not to assign labels of right or wrong. Individual perceptions oftentimes have us bestow positive or negative qualities onto life's events, when in reality, our reactions to them are what gives an event its' quality. Being able to adjust to changes allows us to make the most out of the things we cannot control nor influence. The present is always bright, when we do not weigh it down with fears of the past projected onto the future.

"Thank you" for the friends that want your friendship...and ask you for nothing more than for you to be your authentic self. "Thank you" for the ability to unearth that authenticity within and to allow it to be shared with those who love you....and knew, before you did, of its existence. "Thank you" for the love of family members, whose destinies are karmically aligned with our own, and foreseen before birth.

Primarily, on this day of expressed Thanksgiving, I say "Thank you" for the unison that Joe and I move in tandem with, whether awake or asleep, near or far, with or without, because it occurs by our own volition, without demand, much as a circle flows into its beginning. "Thank you" for that flow that begins with one and ends with the other, for the legs that supports the weight of the other and for the thought that gives rise to an action in the other.

We celebrate this day at the home of our generous friends, Walter Allen and Brian Leister, in Easthampton, shared with dear friends that have supported our dreams for more years than any of us care to count. The commemorative friendship feast is being deliciously prepared by the professional chef in our family, Dennis Williford, with his usual taste, skill, jocularity and joie de vivre. And finally, "Thank you" for taking the time to read these thoughts and giving thanks of your own.

Old Friends

2010-11-12T05:04:00.000-08:00

“Old Friends…Old friends…..
Sat on the park bench like bookends… A newspaper blows throw the grass…falls on the round toes..of the high shoes..of the Old Friends…” as sung by Simon and Garfunkle.

I am having lunch today with a friend that, until two weeks ago, when he sat down in the barber chair next to me, I hadn’t seen or heard of since the early seventies. I would not have recognized him at all except for a hauntingly familiar gaze that sat fixed in his expression as he peered into the barbershop mirror. I searched my memory bank to determine where I knew that look from and it suddenly hit me that it was very similar to that of a young man that influenced the most essential part of my early maturity, the need to be honest and to be myself. Still unsure whether the provenance of that stare existed in the man that sat next to me, I forced my memory to chisel away at the years of experience that now formed his facial features and the weight of living that now smothered his once muscular frame. I suddenly realized the indelible physical elements of our existences are carved in our smiles, voices and the way we peer at things. All else is subject to change, except for the possible non-physical elements, like humor, or lack of it, or our practical sensibilities, or lack of it.

The benefit of being around friends, family and lovers for years on end is that we grow accustomed to the ever-changing transformations that age affords us. We don’t see the wrinkles and girth that bespeak our experiences with any crystal clarity, but take them on, as we do our own, with minimal resistance. We share diets, health clubs and moisturizers, all the while fighting the same battle that we gradually lose anyway, but with an adjusting eye to our own and others ‘improvements’. Yes, improvement is the right word because beauty in its full bloom is the most beautiful of all. And who is to say that in the autumn of our years the serene glow of stalwart survival isn’t as gorgeous a beauty to behold as any other. The charm of a blemish free face cannot compare with one etched with character, full of a life’s expressions. Though a toned body, of any age, still holds a greater appeal, than one that speaks of neglect, a bald patch or silver hair on the top of the head has become very appealing to my ripened eyes, as they relent to the irrepressible seasoning of the body, and I ultimately appreciate that success in living is to be still living at all.

As the guy got up to leave, his barber said, “See you next week, Mike”, and I knew it was one in the same man from my early days. Using the technology of today’s youth, I Googled him and found him on Linkedin and emailed him to verify the encounter at the barbershop. I look forward at lunch today, to having a shared reminiscence about our youth and the ensuing years that followed, and the still relatively youthful dreams of tomorrow.

Postscript:
The crooked smile, that had always generated a deep warmth within me - when I reflected on it - greeted me as I walked into our meeting place. The look in his eyes and the sound of his voice - that I had yearned to see and hear since encountering him two weeks earlier - catapulted me, for the briefest of moments, back to the time of a fantasy remembrance of what we shared. But, in as quick a moment as it takes for reality to set in, those indelible characteristics reformed around the lives that had altered the both of us. Our experiences had subsumed the fantasies we may had carried of a lost time and we left one another with an updated reality of the struggle and luck we've had in life. The hazy romantic reminiscences of what might had been - that we all carry about - crystallizes in the actuality of what has BECOME.....old friends bridging a gap in time...

Scorpio Rising

2010-11-07T02:35:00.000-08:00

As the voices of the almost one hundred people, who crowded into the expansive dining room of Regina Darby, sang out loudly, "Haaaapppppy Birthdaaay, Happy Biirrthday, Happy Birthday" to her, Bill Freeman, Robin Bell-Stevens, Gail A. Marquis and the other Scorpios on hand, I felt lifted by the resonance of the song and the abounding joy, at a time when my soul needed it most.

Lifted from the ashes of a week of disappointment that brought dire predictions for the Democrat's political future, I felt buoyed by the bonhomie in the room. As we sang out, the ponderous negativity of media prognostications, that had consumed me for far too long, melted away...... and I began to see the power and force that we as individuals have to shape and mold our universe in our own vision. Regina, Bill and the Scorpios assembled there, represented those that will not be bound to outcomes and will rise above them.

As our friend, Micki Stickford (another Scorpio) who sent me a message about "A Spiritual Conspiracy" (see below) whereby positive souls are working quietly behind the scenes, to bring forth actions that actually care about one another and the environment, I felt an initiation and inculcation, as I read the inspiring manifesto. The inner revolution of light, it spoke of, sprang forth on the voices of the many people who had come to celebrate last night. Aligned in a deep understanding that more is ahead for us to be thankful for and that it is up to each of us to make it happen, bonded us in subconscious ways.

To our many Scorpio friends, who know the odyssey of burning out and rising again, and rising again and rising again, I wish you a Happy Birthday and thank you for your inspiration and sixth sense.

A SPIRITUAL CONSPIRACY

On the surface of the world right now there is
war and violence and things seem dark.
But calmly and quietly, at the same time,
something else is happening underground
An inner revolution is taking place
and certain individuals are being called to a higher light.
It is a silent revolution.
From the inside out. From the ground up.
This is a Global operation.
A Spiritual Conspiracy.
There are sleeper cells in every nation on the planet.
You won't see us on the T.V.
You won't read about us in the newspaper
You won't hear about us on the radio
We don't seek any glory
We don't wear any uniform
We come in all shapes and sizes, colors and styles
Most of us work anonymously
We are quietly working behind the scenes
in every country and culture of the world
Cities big and small, mountains and valleys,
in farms and villages, tribes and remote islands
You could pass by one of us on the street
and not even notice
We go undercover
We remain behind the scenes
It is of no concern to us who takes the final credit
But simply that the work gets done
Occasionally we spot each other in the street
We give a quiet nod and continue on our way
During the day many of us pretend we have normal jobs
But behind the false storefront at night
is where the real work takes a place
Some call us the Conscious Army
We are slowly creating a new world
with the power of our minds and hearts
We follow, with passion and joy
Our orders come from the Central Spiritual Intelligence
We are dropping soft, secret love bombs when no one is looking
Poems ~ Hugs ~ Music ~ Photography ~ Movies ~ Kind words ~
Smiles ~ Meditation and prayer ~ Dance ~ Social activism ~ Websites
Blogs ~ Random acts of kindness...
We each express ourselves in our own unique ways
with our own unique gifts and talents
Be the change you want to see in the world
That is the motto that fills our hearts
We know it is the only way real transformation takes place
We know that quietly and humbly we have the
power of all the oceans combined
Our work is slow and meticulous
Like the formation of mountains
It is not even visible at first glance
And yet with it entire tectonic plates
shall be moved in the centuries to come
Love is the new religion of the 21st century
You don't have to be a highly educated person
Or have any exceptional knowledge to understand it
It comes from the intelligence of the heart
Embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse of all human beings
Be the change you want to see in the world
Nobody else can do it for you
We are now recruiting
Perhaps you will join us
Or already have.
All are welcome
The door is open
~ author unknown

A Night To Remember

2010-08-22T03:48:00.000-07:00

By the time I walked into Cousen Rose Gallery last night for the opening of my showing, with Crystal, Joe and Genita, I was already on an emotional and spiritual high. The well wishes that had been sent to me from you over the preceding days, hours and minutes had me elated and feeling that anything that happened from that point on would already be successful. The Boston Globe highlight of the day was followed by news that Governor Deval Patrick had stopped in to see the show before going onto his much touted fundraiser that same evening. Many of the participants from that event arrived later at the show, beautifully attired and looking gorgeous. There were many loved ones and supporters, that come each year, wishing the best and quietly building art collections of their own.

Zita Cousens, in royal blue, glided amongst the crowd she assembled with tremendous grace and ease. Jackie Orridge, the radiantly beautiful mother of my dear friends, Valerie Preston and Richard Orridge, and aunt of our New York Governor, was there, a trooper, barring any encumbrances she had to deal with to do so. I met the noted author, Stephan Carter, whose many works I have collected and was just discussing with Chuku Lee the day before. Amy Goldson and her daughters, Aerin and Ava, were there with Amy's mother, one looking more beautiful than the next. Many people were drawn to the painting of her, and that of Patricia Hayling Price, as they are both noted perennials to the Vineyard.

Flying in that day from a five week sojourn in Europe were our guests, Dr. Crystal Silas, of CA, with her son, Charles, to partake in the beauty of the Vineyard for the first time. A long time friend of ours from the Vineyard, DC and Brazil is Dr. K. Ezeze, who was there also, in advance of the launch of his new book, Dream College, this September. There were too many wonderful people there last night to mention in this limited space so included below are a few photos of those smiling faces and loving supporters that you may know.

The President arrives on island

2010-08-19T09:38:00.000-07:00

I think that was President Obama's plane that just flew overhead, as our house rumbled in the wake of the huge plane's low descent onto the nearby airport runway. Everyone is all a twitter with thoughts of the first family's return visit to this small island. The political, wealthy, socially prominent and regular folks, like me, have descended on the Vineyard for the remaining days of summer to bask in quiet solitude accentuated by media glare.

Since my first night on island we spoke of the President's second coming to the Vineyard over a delectable dinner celebrating the birthday of my dear friend, Christine Cummings, whose words of wisdom were, "The older you get the easier it gets because you don't have to worry about stuff". Arrayed in her daughter and son-in-law, Linda and Hassan Minor's new home in Edgartown, were their equally beautiful and accomplished daughters, Keija and Kali, and the esteemed Philip Clay and his wife Sandy. Of course, my entry to this divine evening was through many years of friendship with Pat Cummings (a college buddy) and her husband, H.Chuku Lee.

Last night Martha's Vineyard had it's annual Illumination Night event, where the campground residents lit their homes with colorful lanterns and thousands of visitors sang in unison choruses of our national pride. I, like everyone else, loudly sang along, with words that have been stored in my memory since childhood. The unabashed melodic patriotism sprung from our lips and was on display for our visiting house mates from London, Jennifer and Sharon Thompson, who were more prepared to sing, "God Save the Queen". Valerie Cooper, of Stamford, CT, had again assembled a coterie of friends from near and wide to partake in the summer festivities of the Vineyard. Judy and Wesly Mayo 's campground abode was filled with it's annual illuminated guests that enjoyed the delicious fare and warm comraderie.

Barbara and Peter, from Westport, CT and Maine, are doing their annual pilgrimage here, which will include attending a fundraiser for Deval Patrick with the oft noted speculation that our dear president will be in attendance also.

This special event occurs just hours before my own opening here at Cousen Rose Gallery, 7pm this Saturday, August 21st. Many will attend both. Please alert your friends that may be on island this week to stop by for a visit, by forwarding this blog or this invite.

Thoughts of a Life so Far...

2010-07-27T00:57:00.000-07:00

Sixty years ago to this day, on a bright full moon in Aquarius, like the one over the past few nights, I slipped into this present incarnation, which has been a surprise to me every step of the way. Not particularly pleased with the circumstances I found myself in, I made plans to change them as soon as possible. Most of those plans fell apart, like becoming a doctor, although I couldn't stand the sight of blood, or a brilliant singer, although I couldn't hold a note, or a family man, although my interest were otherwise. Even though I sketched for pleasure it didn't become a career goal until I was a teenage student at Cass Tech. Growing "up south" in Detroit, the limits of my life were implied during segregation, but those suddenly fell open as the wings of revolutionary effort for equality created opportunity for many of us. Being in the right place at the right time has been the key to many successes in my life and probably in yours, too. Though I thought I was doing it on my own, the world conspired in the achievement of my plans, like a silent partner. From acceptance to Parsons to acceptance within a previously barred fashion industry the pull of change took hold of my life. Therefore, at this point, having tried to keep up with the Jones, and for brief moments having been the Jones, I can appreciate the joy of just living.

In some ways, a sideline participant, I have witnessed dramatic social, economic, political and technological changes that only existed in dreams and in science fiction. Social equity as a goal has been a norm since proponents of my generation like Fannie Lou Hammer, Martin Luther King and James Baldwin, and the many that didn't share my pigmentation, fought for inclusion, spoke in our voices and wrote searing commentaries about the unjust burdens of our lives. Economic opportunity has lifted many of us into lifestyles that our parents and grandparents could only dream of, and time has allowed us to know that the ups and downs of life is just that, and not a static commitment to any placement therein. Political advancement has seen the move beyond the first celebrated black local official to the first black president, and has elevated an entire nation in its capacity to appreciate a person for the content of their being and capacity of their skills. And technological advancements has rivaled anything I ever watched in episodes of Buck Rogers or Star Trek. Who knew they where the signal of things to come and not just fantasies to stir our imagination.

These accomplishments would be enough for some but the true joy of witnessing life is the learning that comes with it. Learning that what your parents told you was true, that your friends determine who you become. Thank you to my many friends that has shaped me (you know who you are). Learning that hard times really does create strength and that good times inevitably follows. Learning that less is more and that more has always been there. Learning that what goes around comes around and that you have a choice in the matter. Learning to not blame anyone for anything but yourself, because taking responsibility is the key to success. Learning whether you look to a specific God or the God within you are not alone on this journey, and that the journey itself is the destination. Learning that as the experience of life unfolds, fears recede, and appreciation for life grows. And as the Beatles sang "And in the end, the love you get is equal to the love you give".

In this bucolic stage of my life, I no longer swat flies and wish the deer that ate my flowers were dead, but realize I have a part in their experience of the miracle of life too, and I couldn't be happier.

Glenn Tunstull, A Personal View of Light and Color Book

In the Midst of Summer...

2010-07-24T06:42:00.000-07:00

Surprisingly comfortable mornings become muggy afternoons and the once crisp shirt I started the day with is sticking to my back by the time I return home. Born during the height of summer (July 29th) in the city, I have always loved the heat that rises from the pavement, warming my ankles and throttling my movements...by slowing my steps as I breathe deeply climbing each inclining block...until I reach an air cooled destination. The initial sensation of falling into a cool pool of water subsides temporarily as my body's attracted heat searches for equilibrium. Moments later I am either still breathing deeply with clammy neck and brow or chilled to a point of discomfort, where only a sweater contest the chilly air.

With the completion of my Parsons summer school session yesterday, I have returned to the Hudson Valley, in hopes of a cooling breeze off the hillsides nearby. So far, the pastoral setting offers calming vistas but not wafts of cool air, and I am lodged inside under the controlled environment of air conditioning. In this setting I am putting the finishing touches on several paintings for the August 21st to August 27th show at Cousen Rose Gallery on the Vineyard. I hope to see many of you there next month. Maybe some of you are lucky enough to get to the beach today, as in the painting above entitled, Beach Frolic.

In advance of that you can see a catalog of my work in my new book, Glenn Tunstull, A Personal View of Light and Color.

Lena Horne

2010-05-10T09:02:00.001-07:00

A legend that I had the pleasure of meeting continues to shine. Here is my sketch of her for Playbill when she did "A Lady and Her Music" on Broadway.

Embracing the Future with the Past

2010-04-27T01:18:00.000-07:00

To be wrapped in an embrace that is so unconsciously confident that it feels as if you are holding onto your own skin, with someone who has the freedom to be on their own, yet come together in an embrace of total fusion....this is love. And so, the loves of one's life can come together in a confluence that ties one's past to one's future. Such a day presented itself as I witnessed the merging of my fashion past with my world of today.

The rains poured over New York yesterday as I made my way to the Parsons Senior Thesis Show at the Chelsea Piers with fellow instructor Steven Broadway. Former students were making their foray into fashion's eye with divine designs that they have been crafting for an entire semester. Under the watchful looks of the top professionals that make up the Parsons faculty, unique and forward thinking creations, that defied gravity and percolated new design directions, were paraded down the runway. Wedged among these colleagues, on a mission of excellence, I sat with pride as I saw their efforts carried out with aplomb. Simon Collins, the dean of the department, gave his praises to all who had help shape the fashion talents of the future. The ever-beautiful Susanna Moyer was there with her son Christian, as was Steven Faerm, the BFA fashion director, who rallies his team to ever-greater success each year. Max Wilson, designer extraordinaire, who later had lunch with me and Shawna McGee, another designer that shared our Cass Tech and Parsons alumni status, was pleased with the work he had done with his students. Richard Rosenfeld, Francesca Sammartino, Riet Peters, Kathie Maggio and many more, all agreed that the efforts of these high quality students made it all worthwhile.

As the rains wore on into the evening, I waltzed into the Chelsea Museum for the annual Live Out Loud LGBT fundraiser, which was founded by my dear friend Leo Preziosi. Pleased to have his parents there on a night that saw the greatest turnout of guests ever, he greeted all, along with his sparkling co-host Alan Cummings. Coordinating the mass of people was Hector Rojas, at once efficient and effervescent, with the help of his partner Steven, who had managed the extensive silent auction options. I was immediately made to feel at home by the presence of our dear friends Genita Ingram, John Rivers, Bruce Sloane, David Chin and Enrique Mago. The place was filled with beautiful people of every description, that tantalized one's eyes and probably set into motion a few new romances.

Into this bevy of beauties, my fashion past appeared in the lovely visions of Alva Chinn and Pat Cleveland, with Stephan Burrows and Elsa Perretti in tow. The fashion heyday of the 70's roared into view as I dreamed of bright colors, lettuce hems and youthful abandon, dancing the night away. Though more tranquil in demeanor they stylistically set off the energy of the room in a way that celebrated beauty always does.

Elated by the presence of so much positive energy during the day Joe and I made our way back to the Hudson Valley, enfolded in our joy and ready for an embrace.

A Moment of Reflection

2010-04-02T07:04:00.000-07:00

WE are always in a state of transition, whether we are approaching a change, in a change or coming to terms with a change. Below is a poem written by my friend Micki Stickford in a moment of reflection.

you know........sometimes....i am a bit..amazed...at the thought of being only a few years from 60 .....like where did the time go????.....and what have i done....and what am i doing...what am i going to do .....there is a vulnerability ...i feel ..i think....it's something i've really just become aware of internally ....and it has created an inner sensitivity ....that i really can't explain .....only to say..it makes me more and more thankful..for the process i'm in ...the process of becoming more aware..and kinder.......for if i do nothing else.....let me do that ...........i haven't really voiced it until now.....but it is definitely a part of me now....my consciousness.....time really does fly.....so enjoy the ride....it's important....for some reason..these are words i feel compelled to share .............love the life you live.......

Feasting on Heathcare Reform

2010-03-22T03:26:00.000-07:00

Duck a L'Orange with braised carrots, sauteed string beans and mashed sweet potatoes, that I had prepared, was served as we watch Congress dine on sweeping health care reform last night during Joe Steele's birthday party for two. It was a beautiful day as we had awakened late yesterday morning from a late night of partying in Manhattan, with Reggie Van Lee and his partner Corey, where friends from New York, DC, Chicago, Rome, Brazil and other corners of the world cavorted in high spirits in celebration of Corey's B-Day and the surprise timing of the legislation that Reggie worked so diligently on. I reconnected with Nadia Fattah, who spoke of her global destinations and Susan Taylor who looked beautiful and energized by her project to find mentors for under served Black youth and other people equally delighted to be there. Norma Jean Darden and I reminisced about our fashion days together too, while dining on her delicious fare. Though it wasn't Joe's party he celebrated like it was, because he loves a good time with great people.

And better people we could not have enjoyed than Walter Allen and Brian Leister who took us to brunch with Julia Hotten the next day at the charming Beekman Arms in Rhinebeck, the oldest hotel in America for Joe's birthday. The conversation was fast and witty and full of excitement about the pending vote that could provide opportunity denied for so many. The tasty brunch was served up with the delight of finding myself on the cover of the local newspaper that morning, The Register Star, in anticipation of an artist's talk I'll be giving at the Claverack Library on Sunday March 28th. Feeling fit and full of fun we settled in alone for the evening, preparing the dinner that satiated our taste buds, and monitored the wrangling of legislation that will change our lives. Joe and I have always been political junkies and we reached another highlight on his birthday. What a day!

From Fashion to Fine Art

2010-03-13T08:08:00.000-08:00

From Fashion to Fine Art:
An Artist’s Journey to Self-Expression
Glenn Tunstull
Sunday, March 25, 2010, at 3:00 P.M.

The latest in a series of Programs on “Local Art and Artists”
Sponsored by the Claverack Free Library
518-851-7120

Admission is Free
A Claverack resident, Glenn Tunstull began his artistic career as a Fashion Illustrator in New York City, where his work graced the pages of Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, WWW, the New York Times, and other publications
His search for challenges as an artist, initially inspired by his fascination with the effects of light and water in different settings, led him to the painting of landscapes in water colors and later in oils. His travels took him to many far-flung places—Brazil, Bali, Australia, Italy, France, Japan--as well as closer to home--Cape Cod, the Berkshires, the Hudson Valley. His images extend from the pastoral settings of the Hudson Valley to the energetic colors of Bahia, Brazil.
Tunstull will give a PowerPoint presentation of his watercolors and oil paintings that demonstrate his development as an artist. He will also show some of his actual paintings.
Q & A session and light refreshments will follow

This event will be held on the lower level of the A.B. Shaw Fire Station
adjacent to the Library at routes 23B and 9H, Claverack, NY

Surge of Support

2010-02-13T03:03:00.000-08:00

Last week's blizzard swept over New York in rolling waves of wind and snow and brought the city of perpetual motion to a temporary standstill. Yet New Yorkers cannot be contained by weather glitches for long and in the midst of it all activities abounded and people were there. To our pleasant surprise the opening of the African and Modern Art Show at the Casa Frela Gallery on 119th Street, saw people trudge through troughs of slush and high banks of snow to attend it, carrying chilled faces and warm smiles. They flowed in throughout the evening with waves of support that has come to characterize the way many of our friends show their love. Those that were there and those that weren't all contributed to that New York network of love we feel embraced in. There were many there that spanned our lives from different places and many new ones who are now enfolded into the tapestry.

Project Enterprise, of which Genita Ingram is a founding member and curator of the show, was well represented by supporters new and old to the delight of the director, Mel Washington. The incoming proceeds will now be used to empower more new businesses in the New York area.

The good wishes were shared from friends and collectors of the artists, too. PJ Cobbs had her wonderful artistry on silk on display with many admiring onlookers. Enrique "Mago" Martinez, and his bold abstracts held sway over many admirers as well. My own work was appreciated by those who knew it well, by those who have only heard of it and those who knew nothing of it. For all of us it was a step forward, because the broad exposure has an exponential impact on our reputations and future success. Some of those weather braving exponents are pictured below.

Spring In My Step

2010-02-06T05:48:00.000-08:00

As I climb the steep hill that leads me to where my car is parked, my face is encased in a icy mask that feels like an astringent that I hadn't asked for. I breathe in a fiery mix of cold air and exhaustion that burns my throat as it passes into lungs that no more want the winter cold than I do. I press one foot in front of the other and conjure up the thought of spring like an oasis that is only a few steps away. For a moment the iced over pavement gives way to the sight of warm grounds with fresh green grass and the sound of birds having returned from their winter retreats. There is warmth on my face from a sun that appears to enjoy its work again and the scent of flowers that only blossom when temperate happiness is in the air. For that moment I am infused with the will to continue forth in the frigid chill of this morning, knowing that spring lies on the other side of it.

The change of the seasons pulls us forward from one state of mind to the other like clockwork, to bigger and better things. Though I, like many of you, cannot wait for the end of winter - we are at least past the interminable January - I have found it to be my most productive time creatively. The distractions of warm weather do not intrude on the chilly solitude that gives me nothing but time to create. I am working on several new paintings that shine of warmer places and attitudes and takes me away to times spent with many of you. In many ways this harshness of winter is a friend that spurs me on and keeps me going to the next spring.

For those of you who will stop by for the African and Modern Art Show at the Casa Frela Gallery, 47 West 119th Street, this Thursday, February 11th, where I will have several paintings, dress warmly and bring your spring smiles.

African Modern Art Show

2010-01-25T07:22:00.000-08:00

A cacophony of wind and rain beats against my windows and walls, sometimes making me think a guest other than the elements have arrived. Twice, in anticipation of an unexpected visitor's arrival, I've gone to the door to see nothing but gloom pouring over the grounds. Gone are the frequent guests in sunny dispositions and the even sunnier weather from just the week before in Salvador. But being back home has brought me the only real connection to my source of existence that radiates throughout me even in the bleakest of climates. I am once again painting and writing and enjoying Joe's inimitable chortles that warm my heart like logs to a fire. I am working on the complicated color story of a pleasant sunrise scene of boats, still at rest, on a Vineyard morning. And the recall of my life as I plod through the retelling of it in my book makes me realize that none of it has been in vain.

In the midst of this bonhomie, I am preparing for my participation in The African Modern Art Show and fundraiser to be held February 11th, in Harlem at the Casa Frela Art Gallery, 47 West 119th Street. This fundraiser will benefit Project Enterprise whose mission is to develop under-resourced businesses and entrepreneurs in New York City. This exhibit is the brainchild of the talented Genita Ingram, who also curates the show and Lawrence Rodriguez, the director, who has designated a portion of all proceeds to benefit the survivors in Haiti. For a small contribution of $35 you can contribute a bit more to causes I'm sure you already support.

For some of you who have not had a chance to see my work in person, this will be a great opportunity for you, right here in Manhattan. Hopefully you will want to take something home with you. You will also get to see the silk artistry of PJ Cobbs and the abstract art of Mago. For those of you interested in tribal art you will find the collection of Bangally African Expo of New York. Please join us for this evening of art and culture and let your friends know by forwarding the info to them too.

Beautified by the Sun

2010-01-19T06:41:00.000-08:00

As I lay upon my undulating blue green mattress of warm salty water in Baia Tudos Os Santos, peering up at a cloudless blue sky, I am roused from my revelry as a beautiful swimmer almost collides with me, as he makes his way across the bay using a freestyle stroke. No sooner does he past than another beauty swims by in the opposite direction wearing white trunks with "bronzado" skin and hair slicked back by the water. And so it goes here in the land of infinite beauty. No sooner have your eyes adjusted to the unimaginable than something arrives in its wake more stunning than before. As I walk onto the shore a beautiful young girl is trying on sunglasses that the vendor displays before her on a large canvased board covered in sunglasses, that he carries from person to person on the beach. Though she tries on the glasses to protect some of the most beautiful eyes you'd ever want to see, it seems a shame to cover them even for an instant.

On a quiet weekday the beach is still filled with all manner of people who are splayed out on the ground in the tiniest of swimsuits or languidly perusing the landscape of beauties from beneath supplied umbrellas. The buffet of choices continues with a parade of people fully prepared to sell you anything you may desire on or off the beach. There are many who have only personality to sell which is a charming commodity here that has many takers. Oh, another beauty passes by and is exhaled from your view, and then, just as easily, you inhale the appearance of another. Wherever you go here every person seems to carry their time spent on the beach on their faces. I would think it very hard to find anyone here but the severely infirmed that doesn't make their way to this grand amusement park by the sea each week.

I know for the past two weeks my days have included some promenade to these shores where the waters marinates you and the sun beautifies you. Three young girls in string bikinis walk past a young man on his cell, all making plans to show off their splendor after the sun sets. A charming tradition of applauding the sunset occurs on days like this when the sky is so clear that the sun remains in view until its disappearance. Like the ever returning sun, I plan to come back as soon as possible.

Dreams carry on

2010-01-03T03:48:00.000-08:00

If there was a dream way to bring in the New Year, it was as we did so this year. After spending the first quiet anniversary evening in 19 years together, we spent the first day of this new decade connecting with old friends and meeting new people in New York, some who will hopefully become new friends. New opportunities almost always come in the form of new people, whether they spring from your past or emerge from your future.

Our friends Pat Cummings (whom I have known at long as anyone I can think of) and her husband, Chuku Lee, (founding member of NABJ) revived their annual New Years Day get together at their expansive loft in downtown Brooklyn. We were early supporters of one another and always believed in each others' potential. As they say, "Birds of a feather flock together". The party was filled with wonderful artists and authors, including the acclaimed duo, Leo and Diane Dillon, who lead the children book world in honors and prestige, and were pioneers in their personal lives in many ways.

We followed up the evening with another literary soiree at the New York home of the distinguished authors Jill Nelson and Flores A. Forbes, which was also filled with interesting people having fun and sharing positive energy. I was pleased to have reconnected with the photographer and jewelry impresario Coreen Simpson, whom I first met at the arc of her career in the 70's. Faith Childs, the well-known literary agent, shared delightful thoughts on the world of fashion art and design with me, encouraging my pursuits of a book on the subjects.

Just because the last year has ended doesn't mean we can wipe it away for a fresh new year, like an evaporating dream from the night before. The results of what we've done or not done from last year will hang on to us, like a cloud clinging to a mountain after a heavy rain. Our past efforts will always move us forward, whether we consider them to our benefit or not...the opportunity being to learn from them. Even some of the things we feel are disastrous are actually the key to a new opportunity that would not have materialized otherwise.

When "bad" things happen, I always remember the time, upon graduating from high school, when I broke my leg in a car accident, just before I was to go off to New York to attend FIT on a scholarship in fashion design. Devastated by the postponement I went on to apply to Parsons School of Design in fashion illustration, my original choice, which my guidance counselor had told me I wasn't strong enough to even apply to. Not only did I receive a scholarship to the school, but the doctors had discovered a cyst in my leg, that they said would have advanced, if untreated, to the point of needing to remove my leg. What initially was a entirely negative event became a fortunate miracle that changed the course of my life. Of course, one needs to step much further down the road to see how things can conspire to make your life what you dreamed.

The Tender of a Smile

2009-12-27T01:51:00.000-08:00

As you know, many people from different cultures on various continents chose to celebrate the Christmas holiday on Christmas Eve. My first experience of that occurred in Paris '76 at the home of Carol LaBrie (whose birthday is today) and Uli Rose. After a wonderful dinner prepared by these master chefs, their babies, at the time, were allowed into the closed off living room, which was festooned with decorations, gifts and toys, and soon after the gleeful expressions of little David and Ruby. My next experience of the Christmas Eve celebration began in the home of our friend Paulo Mattos' parents in Rio de Janeiro, and continued for many years. There the tradition of a sumptuous Brazilian holiday meal, served to family and close friends, that lasted until the wee hours of the morning, became a way for Joe Steele and I to observe the holiday whenever there.

Accompanied by the ever beautiful, Deborah Thomas, we experienced the celebration on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, with the double commemoration of the holiday at the homes of our friends/family in Easthampton. Appropriately blanketed with mountains of snow, the settings could not have been more storybook-like, these beautifully designed homes had every tasteful interpretation of the season imaginable, all enhanced by meals that satiated ones eyes, as well as, stomachs.

John Rivers and Gavin Morrow had transformed their space to accommodate sixteen of us, who were already dear friends and family, into the warmest appreciation of the holiday that we have had in many years. The cocktails flowed as the delicious assortment of delectable foods tickled our souls, all amidst meeting and reconnecting with friends in the high spirit of the season. The only one missing was the lovely Genita Ingram, who stayed home with a cold.

The following evening was just as breath-taking in the beautiful home of Walter Allen and Brian Leister, where just the decorations were an inspiration, with a coordination of ornaments that had to have taken years to acquire. The delicious and festive meal was coordinated by the great cook Walter with the help of another chef, Julia Hotton, the noted artistic maven from the New York art scene, and her daughter, Tanya Hotton. With Barbara Lawrence on hand, the smiles abounded throughout the evening, as we shared a love for one another and the hopeful prospects for 2010.

It was nice to have had this time with our friends, without the usual pressures of the holidays, that entail gift exchanges that oftentimes miss the mark, and leave one feeling unsatisfied or unappreciated. All we gave one another were our smiles. We are so often consumed by the desire for and acquisition of the material things in life that we overlook the true currency of the soul, which are smiles given and smiles received. This form of currency cannot be taken to the bank, however, it is the only wealth that we can take with us when our time with these bodies are over. As we go forward into the new year, let's plan to make as large an investment into this spiritual fund as we do in our other pursuits.

An Individual Flight to Unity

2009-12-16T01:09:00.000-08:00

I awoke this morning thinking about one of the many arresting natural phenomena I get to witness here, from time to time. In part the thought of it came to me because of my dream that woke me up.

We are fortunate to be surrounded by large expanses of nature and hence, the natural life that convenes within it. On any given day, I have seen these roving flocks of birds settling in and around our grounds. They flow in perfect harmony with one another, as if psychically linked and prodded to move from section to section in an aerial swirl that sweeps you up in its magnitude. They rise and settle like the components of a giant entity, moving one part and then another, perambulating along with it's different segments, as they ostensibly forage for food and then quickly move on. This unified dance of sweeping motion is a fascinating joy to behold, one that symbolizes for me, the interdependency of these creatures and their psychic link to one another, which is evident of man himself.

We go about in an individualized state of mind, with our various wills deciding where and when we will do anything. The overall appearance is random and chaotic at best, yet the results for us are all but homogeneous. In my opinion, our individual efforts are driven by vast unconscious promptings that lead us toward common goals. We sweep toward one goal or another, propelled by our own desires, yet falling into the step of general mentalities that influence us. The simple need of providing shelter has led us to acquire larger and larger homes, replete with every amenity conceivable, in a nationalistic desire to represent or exceed our station in life. We easily feel these efforts individualizes us, when in fact, it homogenizes us, in a way that separates us from other cultures. There is nothing wrong with being confluent, yet, the overwhelming effect in our country is our over usage of materials that weigh heavily on the environmental resources available.

Like many of you, we have a new granite counter-top, prompted by what we believe is a good investment move for our shelter. We needed to improve the kitchen, yet was it necessary to engage in this design fashion of the times? It looks great but was it the most environmentally sensitive thing to do? As we move forward, we will need to ask ourselves how does the things we want affect us as a group, nation, species? It seems that our unity has more to do with how we as individuals fair amongst others, as opposed to how we fair working for the benefit of one another. Our current health care debate highlights some of those differences.

Back to my unsettling dream, which was about my belonging to a large group of people that transitioned from life voluntarily, for the symbolic good of one another. Understandably, in my nature, it's the last thing I would consider, so when it came to my turn, I balked. The people in my dream reverentially moved toward their demise, like that flock of birds, seemingly voluntarily, yet driven by the promptings of their masses. I guess the question in all of this is, how do we tell the difference between what we actually want and need versus what we are told we need? When do our efforts for the whole jeopardize us individually and vice versa?

As we venture forth into the holiday season and the settling culmination of an unsettling year, that included the contentious health care debate, we can ask ourselves these types of questions, to begin our lives anew with new perspective. Happiest of Holidays to you all....

A turn to the future

2009-08-17T04:08:00.000-07:00

The magic of Martha's Vineyard melted away on this sunny day as we left the island by the ferry and was engulfed in a heavy and unexpected fog. The eerie change from the bright crisp day, that opened the morning on the Vineyard, folded into the dense visual fog which sent a chill up my back and felt like a Twilight Zone moment. Suddenly unsure of where or whether we would emerge from it seemed to cross the minds of all the passengers.

The symbolism of the halcyon summer days fallen behind us was not lost on us, as we emerged into the light of a
new segment of our life in the Hudson Valley. Fond memories mixed with goals for the future....as we formulated the next steps ahead in our lives.

A desire to start work on a couple of art books that capture my life in the field of art and one that compiles these blog posts into a single volume, has taken hold of me. Even my next series of paintings are beginning to take shape in my mind. The essence of culture is oftentimes carried on by women who pass on traditions in everyday activities. Some of these incredible woman have allowed me to see them in the elements of the island that provides reflection and solace to them. Their sense of being will be a part of my creative expression as I go forward.

The experience of this summer will also inform what I will share with my new students, at Parsons and Marist, with a perspective on perseverance and forbearance, being the essence of achievement. Learning the hard way....there is no easy way to a goal worth achieving.

Fun and ease

2009-08-09T04:20:00.000-07:00

The flow of support came streaming in from every quarter of the island last night. Friends, family, associates, acquaintances, collectors and strangers combined to create an atmosphere of sweet harmony and success for us all. Some had come a tremendous distance, from Chicago and California to Atlanta and Singapore, in a gesture of support, that only they knew what trials it took, to accomplish their being there. The mood was "happy" and "generous" in spirit, and one we all needed that night.

As they say, folks were there "representing" themselves and loved ones who were unable to make it for whatever reason. Some who wanted to attend were unable to come but their spirit of support filled the spaces and added smiles to all faces. There were many new friends, who were only met in the space of this week, bringing well wishes and appreciations, alongside the ardent supporters who have held us in their prayers for many years. Adding to the mix were people who came for the first time, whether by an invitation or by curiosity, who soon felt the energy that held us together. To all of them, I say "Thank you".

As I assembled the paintings for the exhibition, I knew I would be saying goodbye to some of them, for the last time, as they'd venture forth to new homes.They were gathered up slowly at first and then a sudden flurry of acquisitions left me seeing red dots where the paintings once hung. The gracious gallery owner, Zita Cousen, and her team attended the needs of the collectors with aplomb and assurance in a very committed way.

For many, the evening was enhanced by the fun and ease that my life partner, Joe Steele, brought to the event. He welcomed many of our dear friends, "family" and colleagues, in his inimitable way, that brought joy to their hearts and smiles to their faces. A very few of which are presented here by quick photos he took of them.

Sharing success

2009-07-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

He has started his very first job since graduating from college and a smile radiates deeply from my core. Someone is interested in producing her film script and the step in my walk is much lighter. She is healing from her accident and I sleep through the night more completely. He's received great responses from his new clients and a sense of peace and security flows over me.

Whether you've had love ones buy a new home, salvage a relationship, finish school, rebound from illness, scale to career heights or turned out a great party, you have shared in their success. There have been times when success meant for me what I was able to put onto my resume of experience and achievements. The places I've worked and the things I did, where I've sold my work and those who bought it. But when looked at in such a limited way, one misses the success of holding a hand, forming a dream, building a foundation and being a penny investor in the lives that surround you. Every time they realize their dream, you are a winner. Your spiritual resume flourishes with deeds that only show up in your soul.

As I celebrate my birthday today (July 29), I am filled with all the wonderful achievements of those of you who allowed me to participate in your dreams. Please keep sharing those dreams with me and those you love, because it makes us all a success.

The road we travel

2009-07-16T06:27:00.000-07:00

Wherever you are on your road to success, it has been traveled on before by those you most admire. Some have reached the same point earlier in their lives, some later. However, they have all been in the spot you now stand, with the same hopes, fears, losses and successes. Sometimes the accomplishments seem of little consequence, until they are viewed from a perspective further down the road, when one realizes how that little step fostered a major development in their lives. Sometimes those losses are the biggest step to one's overall advancement because of what they teach you.

The step by step approach to fulfilling your dreams, which is, at best, tedious and limited in effect, has one inevitable impact. It gets things done.

Not once in the process of completing my new series of paintings did I foresee any of them completed on time or being part of a substantial whole. Each painting sat by itself, in various stages of completion, looking nowhere near the original concept that it was started with. It was only the step by step relentless application of one stroke after another that moved them along beyond my greatest imagination. Things happened with them and to me in the process that I had not envisioned. Color choices and their relationships evolved, almost on their own accord, with me being no more than a witness. You can see a partial compilation of the artwork in a new book entitled "Sumbrellas, A Vision of Martha's Vineyard", which is a catalog of images for the exhibition on August 8th at Cousen Rose Gallery.

The implementation of the paintings are a microcosm of the life I am building and if they can be pursued relentlessly, so can my dream. When we are in pursuit of something the steps to achieving it reveals itself one after the other, just like the steps taken. Sure one needs an overall plan, but the steps are minute, and it takes many of them to reach the goal.

Finally serenity

2009-07-09T10:38:00.001-07:00

It seems as soon as something ends, something begins. There is the sensation of a transition from one thing to another, but in reality the next thing has already begun. All the subsequent steps of an action are in motion from the very first step along a road. As I complete the paintings for the showing of my new works, beginning on August 8th, at Cousen Rose Gallery, the last brushstrokes precipitates the framing and promotions and everything else to follow. It only appears to be a linear achievement when in reality the consciousness surrounding the choices have been all made in tandem long before. Whether one is aware of it, at the time, or not, doesn't prevent the inevitable unfolding of those steps.

There have been some works that materialized with seeming effortlessness in a very short amount of time, whereby others have required continuous redirection with many changes along the way. One's dreams are murky at best and do not come together with advance clarity of vision, without an inherent struggle to achieve them. The payoff is in the struggle because it provides the challenge and reward of living. Everything that comes out of that is "gravy", as they say. The recent painting shown here entitled, "Serenity", captures for me the peace of just being.....

Many things have transpired since my last writing here, some happy and some sad and all motivational. The recent transition of Michael Jackson have brought him back to life to each of us in a more personal way and has allowed us to reflect on the stage of his life we loved the most. All of our lives have various stages which we will be remembered for and each of them holding an appeal for different people. At best you can make them all memorable for yourself, too.

The Beauty Diet

2009-04-06T07:25:00.000-07:00

If love and beauty were foods, than I have been fully satiated this past weekend. Rather than an effort to limit my sustenance levels of these things, I soak them up in everyway I can. True beauty seems to be a rare commodity these days because it is often celebrated without the love that creates it, the result being an empty vehicle for commercial gain.

My first feast of beauty was viewing the film"Valentino, The Last Emperor" at the Film Forum this weekend. From the moment it began, I was swept up into a world of luxe living that can only be dreamed of. It wasn't just the exquisite fabrics and settings that wrapped a rich warm tapestry about me but the cloak of an abiding love and friendship that has existed for about fifty years between Valentino and his life partner, Giancarlo Giametti. Their love and security with one another was palpable on the screen, to the point that they seemed like two sides of a single gold coin trimmed in diamonds. The visual sumptousness of all those evening gowns on the runway were nothing compared to the sartorial lessons imparted by just watching those two turned out elegantly at every turn. You're left with wondering where have all the elegance gone? This film has been held over because of the sold out viewings, so I suggest you order tickets online to secure you seats.

Stepping out into the drizzling day afterwards, I strolled over to the June Kelly Gallery at 591 Broadway, to see the exhibition of sublime sculptural images by Elizabeth Catlett. June escorted me through the exhibit, sharing insights into the creation of each work and the motivations of the artist. Her loving descriptions and infinite patience only made me feel all the more blessed to know her, and motivated to continue to aspire to my own creative greatness. The 94 year old artist, who is an American national treasure, will be on hand on April 15th, at the gallery to greet admirers of her work and legendary life.

Finally, I dashed uptown as the weather broke, to the opening of "The Line of Fashion" at the Society of Illustrators, at 128 East 63rd St. At the behest of the director, Anelle Miller, Robert Richards had curated a marvelously beautiful showing from some of the leading Fashion Illustrators of our times. I was pleased to be among this selection of artists, some of whom I have admired for the entirety of my career. Having had a personal relationships with the likes of Antonio Lopez, Kenneth Paul Block, Steven Stipleman, Richard Rosenfeld, and an apreciation of others - like Mel Odom, Jim Howard, Eric, Bouche, Joe Eula, George Stavrinos, Bil Donovan - I felt right at home in the throng of admirers of their works. A new vanguard of artists like Steven Broadway, Alvaro, Carlos Aponte, Glenn Hilario were represented, giving a fresh look to the future of the artistic specialty. I was greeted there by Alva Chinn, (who appeared in the Valentino film), Renaldo Barnette (whose birthday bash last week was a blast)along with Kishiburo Ogawa, Steven Faerm, Erika Groeshel, Alston Greene, Judy Francis (another artist in the show), and so many others.

Filled by these images of beauty, I only felt lighter, if not heady, from so much luxe in my life this weekend. This is a diet I can recommend, that will fill you up yet will make you feel all too good.

Without a word of warning

2009-03-29T14:34:00.000-07:00

The lyrics, as sung by Aretha Franklin, reverberates repeatedly - "Without a word of warning....the blues walked in this morning.....and circled around my lonely room" - in my head, as I deal with the sudden and depressing loss of my hard drive. Yes, my computer crashed and I am in an advanced state of suspended animation. One foot is in the future, where all my plans and goals are being implemented, in my mind, and the other is stuck in the past, hopeful that the files could still be retrieved by computer "techies", to make it all possible. I totter between trying to move forward only to be pulled back whenever a file or software cannot be found and used. Even now, I am using the "old slow laptop" that prompted the purchase of the now defunct eggshell of a computer, in order to continue a life, preserved through these tech enablers.

Like all cautionary tales, the admonishments to backup ones files fit along side those to maintain one's health, buy auto insurance, take your vitamins and save for a rainy day. While I have towed the line assiduously on most of those things, I have been less than consistent with backing up files to an external drive. The halfway effort of saving everything into their proper folders serve no purpose when the file, folders and software no longer exist. Without a word of warning....they were all gone. Now hope lingers, like a flickering flame, that the recovery of the lost hard drive is still possible. If you too have been less than conscientious, then go to your window and say " I'm as mad as hell and I'm going to backup my files, to an external drive, right now"!

Tempering my stunned state of mind is the inclusion of my work in an exciting exhibition on legendary fashion illustration, opening April 3rd, entitled The Line of Fashion, at the Society of Illustrators on East 63rd Street. Many of these elegant works of art set the standard for fashion and beauty throughout the 20th century, and will be recognizable by many of you. With a portion of the proceeds going to GMHC, the exhibition will continue until May 2.

Spring Break

2009-03-14T09:18:00.000-07:00

Two of the sweetest words ever conjugated together in a phrase. To just say them fills me with exhilaration and a lightness of being that lifts my spirit. For those of us who have waded through the dark harsh winter - laden with the responsibility of reshaping student's talents and skills - this momentary "break" provides the sustenance of rest before a last stretch. Like the long distance runner that stops for a breath or drink of water, before continuing to the finish line, so too, do we inhale time to ourselves and imbibe peace of mind before that final sprint to summer.

For those of you who are instructors, at any level, you know this yearned for passage coincides with the recognition of whether your hard fought efforts have had the results you've worked for. Those dreaded mid-terms allows you to know whether anything that you said or did was actually being taken in and used by your students. I was pleased to find that many of my "diamonds in the rough" had found a way to show their many facets, especially since there is nothing more satisfying than seeing the expression of joy on their faces, as they recognize talents they had only hoped for.

The "break" will find many of my students from Parsons and Marist College, either running off to far flung vacation spots, where they will explore the pleasures of basking in the sun, speeding down slopes, or simply sleeping undisturbed in the well fed homes of their families.

I will use the "break" to continue the assault on a barrage of work - including paintings for my art show at Cousen Rose Gallery, on Aug 8th, preparing the course outline for the inauguration of private lessons at my studio this summer, developing more imagery for the fashion work my agent has in mind for me and preparation of the gardens that are springing up as I write this.

"Spring", the other component to this wonderful phrase, has crept ever so slowly into our mindsets. Our winter frocks have found their way back into the closets, as our transitional garb greets the blush of life filling tree limbs and blossoming scents one can only associate with nature stirring from a long slumber. The first daffodils have started to peak out their heads, while the crocuses, in full display, trumpet the new season. And, as we take on the feelings of the new growth in our hearts, which mirrors growth in our society, after a long "winter of discontent," we must seize it now, with both hands, for as we know, seasons come and go.

The Liberation of Uncertainty

2009-02-21T03:49:00.000-08:00

I had an accident yesterday. There, I said it. Oh, nothing serious, just a fender bender, but enough to put my car into the body shop for two weeks. Yet I am reluctant to say anything about it. That insidious embarrassment that wells over one when something bad or tragic happens, struck me in the moment that I had to call Joe and let him know. What is this sense of being that makes us not want to let others know that we going through a challenging time. What is this feeling that makes us seem culpable for the trouble we have to deal with. It's like we haven't lived our lives right, or something.

I know you must have experienced it too. My friend sadly, and quietly told me his apartment had been robbed recently. I could feel his not wanting to say anything about it, yet something like that needs to be talked about, as you try to regain your balance and make sense of it. He didn't orchestrate the theft himself, yet he seemed to feel responsible for it, in a way that guilt often unjustly and erroneously attaches itself to you. Maybe it was someone he knew, maybe not, but why take responsibility for others actions, especially when you are the victim.

When we or a family member are stricken with a severe illness, the first reaction is to be silent about it, as if no one else knowing would render it not real. As if, we or they had done something terribly wrong and others mustn't know about it. Of course, these things happen, without intent on our parts, but we resist sharing them, as if, we had a plan that went awry.

I remember when my mom passed in '84, I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone. People would call, as usual, and yet I couldn't utter a word about it. It was as if I was going to spread bad news. When friends did find out, THEY spread the word and many people responded with an outpouring of love and affection and appreciation of who she was.

Today, in some ways, there has been a liberation in uncertainty. With the challenges many of us have dealt with, because of economic changes, many more of us are speaking up, as never before, about things that the "oppression of affluence" would have silenced. Conversations about business and work levels are more easily expressed than before. Topics as wide ranging as credit card rate manipulations and property value fluctuations to retirement fund devaluation or employment limitation are easily spoken about, in a way that the "affluent face" would not have dared bring forth. Even the ability to say "no" to our spending propensities have been enhanced. Just let a cold call marketer try to solicit a sale or donation from me these days, I hardly need to search for an excuse to say "no."

An open awareness and expression of the reality in our lives provides a freedom of action that can sometimes be circumvented by false or extravagant presumptions. Adversity is the other half of the coin of life that provides perspective and invention, and could be used in full measure to arrive at a better location in life.

Feted in New York

2009-02-10T03:40:00.001-08:00

Joe and I were feted in great style this weekend by John Rivers, the entrepreneur and Gavin Morrow, the scientist, and John's au courant business partner, Genita Ingram, of JDR Consulting, at the annual Human Rights Campaign benefit dinner at the Hilton in Manhattan, of which his company is a major local sponsor. At their table, I was able to catchup with Veronica Jones, the legendary retailer, who shares a long history with me, as well as many, many friends. Seated with us and inspiring as always were the ever elegant and devoted couple, Walter Allen, of IBM and Brian Leister, who never fails to give a positive lift to our lives. The great works of HRC was applauded by every major New York politician, that evening, including Mayor Michael Bloomberg, Senator Charles Schumer, new Senator Kirsten Gillibrand, and the new president of NY Senate, Malcolm Smith. After a rousing rendition of the hit song, "We Break the Dawn", by Michele Williams, we were brought to our feet by a throbbing speech about everyone's inadvertent sour taste of discrimination by the MSNBC anchor, Keith Olberman. His point was that whether or not one fits into a discriminated group, they will some day be a victim of it by the tentacles of misguided hate that touches everyone. We all left feeling empowered by the commitment to go forward in our mission for self determination.

Yesterday, I watched the sunrise from possibly one the most beautiful vistas in Manhattan, the Rainbow Room at Rockefelller Center, with one of my dearest friends, Dwight Johnson, who had coordinated a breakfast benefit there for the New York Urban League. As the morning sun filtered into that gem of Art Deco design, I watched Dwight perform as a maestro, orchestrating every detail of the colorful enhancement of the space - right down to the hint of spring in the tiny daffodils at each seat. The "Champions of Diversity" breakfast honored General Electric, Goldman Sachs and The New York Times for their outstanding efforts in the need for diversity in the job market. I was fortunately seated next to Elinor Tatum, the publisher and editor -in-Chief of the Amsterdam News. The venerable publication has a great new energy with her at the helm and we look forward to the expanding directions she has in mind for it.

Lastly, we are saddened by the sudden transition of our friend, Hakim Maurice Wyche, whom we had shared many wonderful times together on Martha's Vineyard. He was the loving patriarch of one of the most beautiful families we know from Cambridge. His wonderful daughter, Shahara, whom I met on the Vineyard Town beach is the inspiration for my painting entitled, "Lady in Blue", which he was very pleased with. Our sincerest regrets and condolences go out to the entire family.

Does Love Last?

2009-02-07T04:36:00.000-08:00

Does love last beyond that tingly feeling that gathers in your stomach when you're initially infatuated with someone and are trying to decide whether they like you, too? Does it last beyond that period of time when the idea of what life could be like with them, stimulates the imagination? Does it extend beyond the curious desire of knowing how that person tastes and feels in an intimate and sexual way? Or even beyond exploring someone else's ways besides your own and learning what you will take and what you won't?

Does love last beyond knowing someone, so well, that you can anticipate their needs and desires before they do? Is it still love when they can enter your personal space without you even knowing there is a space limit? Is it still love when they make unexceptional purchases for you, like your favorite shampoo or toothpaste, without you asking? Is it still love when you are awakened with yesterdays breath and this morning's version of your new hairstyle? Can it still be love when you accept the awkward belch or emission, that shrills your ears, singes your eyes or assaults your nose? Is it still love when they unwittingly tie dye your favorite item in the laundry or inadvertently throw away that old memory you haven't worn in years? Is it still love when that hot sexual tension, that drove you to madness, comes less frequently, if at all, with more imaginative labor than before? Is it still love when taking care of the physical and emotional needs of your partner becomes the highest order of your day?

For those who have loved and who have lost their loved ones, any of these things would be greatly embraced just one more time. For those whose love warms them, even when they have not been thought of, the candle of love's light burns forever. Our happiness is knowing we were capable of love. As Maya Angelou says, "Love is a gift you give yourself."

On this Valentine's Day celebration, reach over and smell the scent that comforts you, feel that heat that warms you and experience the space that does not separate you. The gift your love one wants is knowing that you want them for as many days, months, years, as you have already shared. For me, YES, it is still love!

Built of a Dream

2009-01-28T00:30:00.000-08:00

I enter a room looking for the exit. Going through one door and out another. Stepping into a corridor that bends into a hall and clamoring up a narrow stairway that leads to a smaller opening - which I squeeze through with dispatch. Relentlessly, forging ahead, instinctively navigating these spaghetti trails as they unwind before me, these nighttime rambles into the meanderings of my mind usually leave me spent from the amount of effort it takes to arrive nowhere. And yet, the ending comes.... abrupt and complete....and arrives about two in the morning... when I awaken with a start.

Just as encompassing are those uplifting somnambulant moments when a loved one enfolds themselves into my arms, bringing sweet memories of scents and touches that were nearly forgotten. At other times, material riches would settle into my grasp with such authenticity that their disappearance upon wakening would leave me saddened and unsettled, whereas, consequently, the joys of an accomplishment or creative insight would leave me lifted and bounding to the drawing table with a new sense of direction and drive.

Dreams are not something you can control, whether those fashioned in your sleep or during your awakened hours. They are pursuits that drive you forward, and at best, they are a vague outline of what that fulfillment will be. Desire to achieve them is often all the fire one has to realize them. Like suddenly appearing doorways, circumstances and people appear to provide direction, guidance and opportunity, when you least expect it, which may take that dream into an entirely new dimension. As in sleeping dreams, the road is also mired with distractions indulged too easily, and fears accepted too fully, yet, even in the fall of these moments, the ability to persevere wipes a slate clean for fresh starts that carry none of the deficits with it.

Having embarked on my own dream of sharing beautiful works of art, it has had many twists and turns - that have been shaped by SO many of you - that I feel like a work of art myself. Sculpted of caring and appreciation, support and advice, resources and connections, we all stand as a testament of how one’s dreams are built by others. You all know what you have shared so freely and lovingly and what wings you have given to others' dreams. For the gift of an artist, you are the gift.

The dream of meetings in Brazil continues to unfold, with promises for follow up and introductions to equally connected individuals, and a commitment to return with more works of art. The image included here was one that has provoked numerous positive responses.

Rising Early

2009-01-11T04:06:00.000-08:00

The sweetest bright red watermelon, with a ton of black seeds, just satiated my dehydrated body after an hour long walk along the coastal promenade here in Salvador. My leg muscles continue to struggle to find a state of repose where a sort of numbness seems to have struck them. The beachfront had already reached a level of full out activity - with swimmers and joggers in full swing, boaters and fisherman preparing for the day's catch, with "barraca" stands opening and coconuts being tossed and served as drinks to passerbys - and it is only six in the morning. The high flying sun at this hour provokes one into action least one has to suffer it's potentially charring effects later in the day. My own drenched t-shirt stands as witness to the rising heat of the morning and the rushed pursuits of the early risers.

Drawn back into the pleasure of summer, we find ourselves again fulfilling a life here, that knows nothing of winter and it's restrictive practices. The clothing has been shed again and the protective maneuverings from the cold are temporarily forgotten in the swirl of hot sun and warm water. My paintings done in this tropical paradise have provided another reason for our visit this time. Through the concerted efforts of Carson Philips, we will meet with leaders in the architectural and interior design world here, to present the work and exchange ideas for collaborative opportunities. Our first meeting was with one of the foremost architects, Adriano Mascarenhas, designer of luxury homes, apartments and public buildings - with many magazine covers to his credit - and one of the first architects to bring the groundbreaking new "green technology" in building to Bahia, similar to "passive house" technology out of Germany. He is certainly one to be considered for your next building project or interior design.

We will end this string of meetings, in a week's time, and head directly for DC to celebrate the inauguration of Barack Obama. Like many of you, it will be the first time we have ever considered going to such an event, least of all, actually going to it. This convergence of like-minded people in the capital for a celebration and not a protest, is nothing short of earth shattering, for many of us, who have had a more passive relationship to politics and our government officials. Joe Steele will be there bringing his style and wit to the planned events he'll attend, with a focus on fostering cross-cultural humility and fluency, in all aspects of business and government. If you'll be at the Black HBS event at The Mandarin, please check him out.

Snowy Ending of Year

2008-12-31T11:02:00.000-08:00

Drifts of snowy breezes blow past the window as a lone bird bird clings to the feeder, it's encampment for the moment from the bluster of winter that surrounds it.
The crackle of the burning wood in the fireplace that warms our own encampment, on this last day of the year, is a calming beckoning call of a future full of hope and possibilities. Warmed by our love and hopes, we smile as the cold swirl of winter kicks up it's heels within our glances but beyond our comforts, posing as a reminder of the storms that we have all survived this year. Just as a breeze blows IN the snow, it blows out the challenges we endure from time to time, to bring greater awareness of ourselves and others. Stronger, as a result, we move on more prepared for the next breeze that blows our way. Let us all be ready for 2009, knowing greater preparedness is the goal and result.

The Christmas Spirit Arrives

2008-12-25T06:24:00.000-08:00

We seemed to have slowly limped into the Christmas spirit this year. Though this typically happens to me, this one has had an added layer of drag from the low economic expectations for the country, however, I am lifted by the political possibilities the Obama presidency holds.
So, once the decorations finally came out of storage and went up around the house, the mood shifted from one of stilted indifference to one of willing embrace. Of course, it took until Christmas Eve for it to happen, but the inner cheer is still there, though for a lessened period of time.

Jump starting us into the spirit of the season was a wonderful weekend in New York, at the rambling brownstone of the vivacious entrepreneur and beauty, Peggy Dillard, and her esteemed husband, famed artist Lloyd Toone. Their personal spirits raised our own senses of growing possibilities, which were heightened even more at the smashing Christmas party thrown by producer, Brenda Dillon and her raconteur husband, Bill Cavette. Filled with delightful guests, we spanned the world of amusement with them all.

We will have Christmas dinner today with our dear friends, Carol LaBrie and Uli Rose, which are more like family than friends. A dining adventure prepared by these connoisseurs of life makes it a delectable experience each and every day. This is a rare holiday opportunity to spend with them, since we are generally away, in Brazil, at this time of year. The snowy lead up to today had been enchanting, however, that has given way to snow patches and a sun shiny day. I am preparing macaroni and cheese for the occasion, my favorite holiday dish, which I am known for and make only a few times a year.

The Hudson Valley is an enchanting location at any time of the year with Christmas having a special appeal. The buildings are sprinked with decorations and frosted with snowflakes, emphasizing their architectural splendor, while the landscapes are etched in a wintry beauty that holiday cards are made of. With this setting and time of year, we are very happy to give thanks for the things in life we can enjoy, things that are there as a benefit without any effort on our part, as a gift from God. We hope your holiday presents you with joy as a present and happiness as a gift.

Crystalline Crisis

2008-12-14T05:26:00.000-08:00

The clear bright sky, reflected on every tree limb, like facets on a diamond, does not begin to tell the story of damage and destruction this beautiful phenomenon has wrought on the countryside. Even with the benefit of a generator - acquired without my full compliance at the time - the sudden inconveniences are oft-putting. I can hardly complain of the upset in my life, while many of my neighbors have been tossed into the darkness and the cold, without the benefit of preparations for it. Even those of us who have survived in relative ease have dealt with downed trees, closed businesses and a sense of being cut off from the rest of the world. Neighbors have joined forces to check on one another and provide needed information on how to survive the ice storm.

My first experience of the ice storm happened late Thursday night, returning from the city, when I veered, late at night, onto the very dark now crystallized Taconic Parkway. The harrowing drive began with the unsettling vision of tree limbs grasping low at my car as I drove by. Like a nightmarish fantasy, the formerly leafy canopy now stretched down with crystalline fingers and scraped the top and sides of the car. Unlike the usual concern of deer wandering onto the roadway intermittently, the felled branches and trees were at every turn. At times, I drove under them as they lashed at the car, while at other times I would have to drive onto and around muddy embankments, where occasionally less successful vehicles languished. By the time the fog rolled in, my nerves had been thoroughly shattered, and, with this new obstacle impeding my passage, my prayers ramped up to a constant chant for safe arrival. When I did get home I was astonished to see many of our trees doubled over in what appeared like fetal positions, frozen to the ground like ice sculptures.

As I said, we are surviving it all with relative ease, though without having a working stove, this has taught me to stockpile more than cold cereal and peanut butter in the future. I have also learned that the temperature gauge on the main floor needs to be included in the generator's operational list. Right now, the house is sandwiched in warmth from the top floor and the basement, with a chilly 59 degrees on the first floor. Of course, I am not complaining, however, because of our circumstance, it is the best of options, in that we can stay in our home with the kitties. On a positive side, adversity on any level, provides opportunity for insights and new functionality that would not be there otherwise.

A similarity in opposites

2008-12-04T03:36:00.000-08:00

The dulled palette of rust and browns that frame the steel blue waters of the Hudson River, on this sunny wintry morning in December, stands as a stark contrast from the brilliant shades of greens, accented with reds and yellows, that border the turquoise waters of Salvador’s Espirito dos Santos Bay. An even more striking contrast is in the layers of black clothing I am now wrapped in, to withstand the cooler climate of the Hudson Valley, versus the bright turquoise or blue-violet that floated lightly around my suntanned body in the summer’s heat of Brazil. Though these visual and physical contrasts are evident in everyway, my sense of being at peace in either is consistently the same. Snatched from one or the other, my equilibrium remains balanced, because of an abiding appreciation that, what is, IS.

To rail against one is to not fully appreciate the other. In many ways this contrast in the lifestyles, whether laying on the beaches of the Salvador Bay or chugging along the train route on the Hudson River, represents a view of a singular life. Life here allows for the luxury of detachment there, just as, my exposure there provides a more encompassing perspective here. Simple things like, an inarticulation of portuguese there, forges a stronger grasp of my native tongue here. A natural sense of community there, causes me to reach out to friends and family here. Relaxing there makes me want to work here.

Living on the outskirts of our small hamlet of Claverack, we are blessed with a slower pace than the city - one that reflects the rhythms of the seasons and the movements of nature’s creatures - in a way that many can only imagine. Yet, our excursion to Imbassai, a coastal community, under two hours north of Salvador, showed us a pace of life that I could have only imagined.

To begin with, there are no public conveyances, except for an “autobus” that delivers you, to and from the city. There are no paved roads, only the lushness of rich red dirt that squeezes between your toes - if, of course, you decide not to wear the ubiquitous “sandales”. People walk everywhere, to the market, the restaurants, schools and pharmacy, the beach and to visit one another. “Motos”, which are small motorbikes commandeered by young males, act as the other option for transport, when one does not own a car or drives a truck of some sort. These guys will transport you about for the rough equivalent of a dollar, with an added benefit of their charms.

While there we dined at a beach oasis, of cobbled together shacks, called “barracas” (bah’ hock’ kas) - they provided a respite amid the enormous, expansive and empty beaches - where we settled under bamboo umbrellas and wood hewn tables. We watched local fishermen, from our beach chairs, catch our meal of red snapper, called “vermelho”. Fried to perfection, and served with rice and beans along with a scrumptious tomato salad, the “sabores” or flavors still ricochet across my tongue.

Our friend Carson introduced us to this world that time forgot - by way of his own getaway there – where neighbors or “vizinhos” all know one another. “Hail fellow, well met” was the response to all, whether walking, working or riding a horse. Here is where locked doors would be considered an affront and where time is multiplied.

Yes, the potential of such a world exist for us in the Hudson Valley, however, we would need slow down the pace a bit here, too. This afternoon we will attend Winter Walk, the annual kick-off to the celebration of the holiday season in Hudson. Hot chocolate, chili and roasted chestnuts will warm the air and allow us to walk the main street, without traffic, to meet one another in the spirit of the season.

A friend informed me of a published article about emerging artists in the holiday issue of Uptown Magazine which includes my artwork. The editor-in-chief, Keija Minor, a longtime friend, told me of the feature while visiting an opening of my work at the Cousen Rose Gallery, on Martha’s Vineyard this summer. The magazine caters to many people, just like you, so pick it up, if it is not already sitting on your coffee table.

A Life Already In Session

2008-11-24T03:14:00.000-08:00

In Brazilian Portuguese, they have an expression "a onda", which roughly means, "jumping on a wave." This is how we felt on our first day returning to Salvador, Bahia. After being away for almost a year, busy with our lives in the U.S., the warm local breezes greeted us, as we were swept up into a life that was "already in session" for us. Traveling with our friend from Los Angeles, Carl Reece, who manages a legal search firm, we arrived late, the night before - however, guests arrived early at our apartment the next day.

Joe and my, first guest was our apartment manager, Alain Zamrini, who rapidly reviewed our current situation in regards to needs and necessities for the space. His fun yet "business only" attitude is always welcomed, in a partnership of such lengthy dependency. We were next regaled with insights of property acquisitions from our neighbor and real estate extrapolator, Burt, who provided a clear plan for successfully negotiating the Brazilian legal maze, that would lead to his retiring off of multiple property purchases in Salvador. A dream easily fulfilled with wit, resources and a stomach for shifting currency valuations.

The highlight of the day was the appearance of the elegant, wise and humorous, Carson Philips, our dear friend, whom we were fortunate enough to celebrate his birthday with, that day. His elegance in word and motion enfolded us in the luxury of living life in this temperate climate's sensational goodies. His infectious personality has many here gravitating to him, including the brilliant young doctoral student from Columbia University, Paulo Sergio, who is working on his dissertation about the changes in the racial progress in Brazil. Of course, the conversation was made most lively when the intersections of progress in Brazil and in the U.S. were compared. Joe, as you may know, is always quick with perceptions and insights from his extensive experience on the subjects. As usual, humor was the best means to delve into the depths of so serious a discourse, so laughter was a constant refrain.

Of course, no luncheon would be complete without a stroll to the beach, where we were met with sights galore. One may think that the beach is a place for solitude and rest, but not at Porto da Barra. It is a virtual cacophony of voices, bells, whistles, music, yells and whispers that could assault one's senses, were it not for the ravishing visuals that accompany them. A parade of some of the most stunning people you can imagine pass in front of the luscious landscape, in a harmony of beauty that can literally take your breath away. Served capirinhas, while seated under umbrellas, provided for us, we surveyed the visuals with repeated praise and discernment. It was the type of distraction that melts away the concerns of Wall Street and the auto industry in a flicker.

We later resolved to have a birthday dinner at one of Salvador's finest restaurants, Lafayette, pronounced [la'phi'yet'chee]by the Brazilians, perched over the water on the edge of "Cidade Abaixo" (Lower City). Joined by Harold Jones, recent owner of a stunning penthouse here, we feasted on seafood that was flavored in a way that only the Bahians can do. Carson was in rare form as the guest of honor and made it an enjoyable evening for all.

We look forward to the unfolding "a onda" that flows in our direction this week.

Tears of Joy

2008-11-16T05:15:00.000-08:00

Tears are a little gift that God has given us, which I am oftentimes too embarrassed to use, publicly or even privately. They stream from the same place but for different reasons, yet, with the same purpose, which, in my opinion, is to cleanse the soul. My tear ducts welled up and overflowed with unbelievable joy the night Obama won the presidency. The world doubled over in tears of ecstasy, all at the same moment, which made me happy to add mine to the mix, without any embarrassment at all - however, in the privacy of my own home.

There are those tears that joyfully accompany such glorious events as weddings and prideful moments, that seem to punctuate our feelings, like icing on a cake. Or the tears of sentimentality that allows us to connect to the memories of that which preceded us and begs us to join in the bliss of it.

We all know the tears that trickle down our cheeks because of the loss of someone or something that was dear to us. They wet our sleeves and our pillows in those most private of moments, oftentimes, when we are sure others cannot see the hurt that consumes us. They purposefully seem to wash the pain that is so deep that it knows no end or resolution and act like a God given salve, to bridge the emotional gap that is cleaved from our inability to accept a loss we do not want.

Then there are the tears that erupts suddenly from something that is so uproariously funny that laughter is not enough to contain one's reaction to it. These are the rare moments that are impossible to predict or create because spontaneity is a required precondition for it to occur. One's inner soul is racked to the core by the silly implausibility of a circumstance or situation so that it's cleansing is so complete as to leave nothing there for the moments that follow.

Tears can also flow as a mixture of joy and sadness simultaneously, as they did yesterday for me at the memorial of our dear friend, Philip Reed. Someone who had touched my life so deeply, in such a funny and loving way, could also be felt as he reverberated throughout the hall, in the tears of others. The joy of his existence in our lives as a friend, brother, leader, giver, instigator, fighter, activist and lover, were happily expressed by these emotionally encompassing tears that soothed our souls and carried his touch.

Hope Springs Eternal

2008-11-01T09:59:00.000-07:00

Like many of you, I am watching this critical election unfold, with hope and anxiety wrestling for control of my emotions. With so many things in an unbelievable state of chaos or flux, I find that the hopes of an Obama administration, somehow being one of the only salves that I can depend on. I am unsure as to what I will feel once this battle has been won, but, surely it will be a mixture of many other feelings, which will include anticipation and expectation.

Like many of you, I have been watching every twist and turn of the election and have been barraged with information on every person and issue involved. I now know more about the lives of these candidates than I do about some friends and relatives. I now know more about healthcare, taxes and shrinking economies than my bursting head can handle. And, now more about musicians, rappers, cartoons, web videos and activists actors than I have ever thought possible rallying around these candidacies. I have called potential voters both in my area and in other parts of the country like their lives depended on it, which it does.

Like many of you, throughout my life I have hoped for many things (jobs, careers, relationships, recognition, homes, stability, etc.), yet, my hopes today extend so far beyond my personal scope and now seem to encompass the very health of our nation. Our connection to the success and failure of others has never seemed so real to me as now. The images of the incredibly long lines for people waiting to cast their votes in this election shows that we have all wakened up and realized that it is not just our civic duty to vote, but, a physical effort to resurrect a slumping nation. We are going to have our say this time around, because letting others make that choice for us, has allowed for decisions that do not correspond to our needs.

Like many of you, hope is a very ephemeral essence to hold onto, yet, it is a most satisfying anchor in today's headwinds. The hope of change is something that we all can hold onto, not just in the embodiment of a great leader but in our own ability to change things within our personal spheres. Our first step toward CHANGE is the casting of our vote and from there rebuild our world.

A Harvest in Full Bloom

2008-10-15T00:26:00.000-07:00

The "peak fall foliage" season has arrived in full bloom, up here in the lush Hudson Valley, bringing an array of richness in color that rivals any tapestry designed to capture it. The autumn leaves turn into their vibrant hues as they are essentially being pushed from the limbs of the branches that they were born onto, just months earlier. The trees being in preparation for the time when snow will cover their limbs and the leaves would be an inordinate burden to bear. For many of us, the arc from spring into fall carries with it a symbolism of one's youth into one's middle age.

My body seems to have its' own arcing system of preparation for the seasons ahead that operates quite independently from how I think or feel. Upon waking each morning, after a brief adjustment into a fluidity of movement, I perceive myself as the youthful man I am content to be, if only in mind and not in body. This perception serves me well, until I pass a mirror or climb some stairs or ruminate about the exercise program I have once again abandoned today. The efforts to maintain the youthful appearances of old has yielded to the contentment of remembering the "old days."

Suddenly, the pleasure of listening to music from my youth has taken on new appeal because it still has the capacity to fire the engines that ran hotly through my body, in those days. Sylvester, Madonna and Donna Summers, to name a few, are constants on my iPod playlist. Or, pouring through old photos of myself and friends, that were once discarded as not "good shots", have just as quickly become stand ins for what "once was" and reinforcements of the underlying perception that things have not changed. But they have. The awareness creeps in, in many subtle ways, from reduced energy levels to the sudden perception of how young everyone else is, especially in film and television.

But, the experiences that I have been fortunate enough to live through adds a zest for life that makes wanting to experience more unquestionable. From the inception of the Motown era to the March on Washington, from hippies to disco, from feminism to gay rights, from John F Kennedy to Barack Obama, I have witnessed first hand the changing of the guard, and know with certainty that more lays ahead. So, as I move into the autumn season of my life, shedding the leaves of my youth to more lightly take on the new experiences ahead, I do so with a new contentment, based on reality and not just perception.

Shorter Days Longer Nights

2008-09-29T07:24:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's the shorter days that has created the illusion that this past week seemed to have just disappeared so quickly. Or maybe it is the amount of things going on that has seemed to have collapsed so much into a short amount of time. From my own presidential debate party, making calls for Obama, teaching classes, attending charitable events and traveling to the East End, I seem to have been very busy this week.

In any regard, I find myself at the beginning of another week feeling like there is as much to do, if not more, than last week. Like many of my friends, I will have to start working through the nights, which proceed as if time has stopped. Unlike the daylight hours that have decidedly different arcs of time - morning, noon, afternoon, early eve - the evening hours have no such distinctive markers. Without the advent of ones favorite shows to mark time, the night hours march on undistinguished. If I could summon creativity without the use of sunlight, I might produce more than ever in those dark nights.

I have been so blessed with great friends that have always been supportive of me and my pursuits. And some of these same friends have taken their energies and are giving back to the world in many altruistic ways. Just this past week, I was able to participate in some of their efforts on behalf of others.

My longtime buddy, Hector Rojas, had his fifth annual fundraiser for the Wayuu Taya Foundation, an organization dedicated to improving the lives of indigenous children living on the border between Venezuela and Colombia. He has taken on this effort solely out of his desire to advance the life situations of children from his part of the world. He had a tremendous turnout of people lending their support in every way.

In attendance was our friend and his mentor, Leo Preziosi, who is the founder and executive director of LIVE OUT LOUD, New York's premier nonprofit organization dedicated to connecting LGBT youth to leaders in the LGBT community through events and programs at area schools and universities. Leo had this wonderful idea several years ago, to address this need, and has tirelessly worked on it since. His current Homecoming Project encourages Gay and Lesbian professionals to go back to their high schools as role models to the LGBT teens there. If any of you would be interested in bringing your stories back to your alma maters, please contact him directly.

We spent the weekend at our dear friends' home in Easthampton, where we were feted to a Sunday brunch that set new standards for us all. It is not unusual to be floored by their attention to their guests and their comforts but this even surpassed that. We were all out there for the spectacular celebration that our friend, the publicist and marketing director, Genita Ingram, produced in conjunction with the fundraising efforts of John Rivers, at their vacation house, with his partner, Gavin Morrow, on behalf of the Human Rights Campaign, the muscular legislative arm of the LGBT community. Their donation prowess was cause for the organization to invite top donors to their beautiful home in Easthampton, to recognize them for their efforts. Needless to say, their party, as usual, was filled with interesting people and delicious food and a fun time for all.

With all that my many friends and my partner Joe Steele has going on, I am again motivated to fulfill on my own purpose. Though that may seem to have many tentacles, from time to time, they are all worth the efforts.

Peace in the midst of turmoil

2008-09-21T05:35:00.000-07:00

Contrary to popular belief, peace is not an elusive experience but an abiding sense of being that exists within us all. With all the turmoil that the country has gone through in the past week looking for a peaceful space IS sometimes hard to do. Oftentimes the real culprit is our own fears of losing something in the future, rather than appreciating what we have in the present. I have had to take a deep breath a number of times to bring me into the moment and to refocus my attention as to what is important, and what are the actual blessings that I am benefiting from, right now. It has been my experience that the fears I conjure up generally don't materialize. Not to sound unrealistic about the potential outcomes of events, it is just better for me to focus on what I can do right now. That focused attention allows the fears to melt away by it essentially not giving them energy to exist.

Sometimes the easiest thing to do is to turn off the media frenzy and to just go take a walk. Joe Steele and I took a bike ride in our community which instantly took us back to the impermeable consistency of life through nature. Life goes on within and without the concerns of man. The sight and sounds of birds, sheep, horses, deer and cows were enough to bring us back to a sense of peaceful acceptance of ongoing life. As they say, "This will pass too".

Yesterday actually began with a meeting of locals at the post office to do the weekly Claver-Walk. Led by Vicki Rosenwald, and joined by John Issacs, co-editor/publisher and designer of Our Town, Enid Futterman, author and editor-in-chief of Our Town, the monthly magazine of record on life in Claverack, Adele Slocum and others, the group of us went off, on an hour walking tour of our lovely hamlet. Along the way we encountered many residents enjoying their piece of the hamlet. Notable among them was the well-known artist, Ken Polinskie, who invited us in to see his new paintings and renovations. This time together provided an opportunity to get to know one another and to share our feelings about the political and economic landscapes and what we can do about it, as well as, the bucolic landscape we find ourselves in. Above is a photo of our home here, where bails of hay dots the landscapes this time of year.

The Storms Roll In but a Brighter Day is Ahead

2008-09-13T06:07:00.000-07:00

It seems that a lot on storms has descended upon the shores of the US in recent days. The destruction they bring with them are yet to be assessed but can be fathomed by the obsessive attention directed at them by the media. None seem to be more unfathomable than the storm of political distraction called Sarah Palin. The media has decided that focusing on "who she is" is more important than focusing on the issues that confront our country and the basic differences in how to contend with them from the two national candidates. One has the message of hope for the power of government to enhance the lives of the many, in the world, and the other is looking for another "feather in his cap".

Many of you have already made up your minds regarding who you plan to vote for in November, so subjecting yourself to the media onslaught is an unnecessary and profoundly debilitating experience. We have to keep in mind that our true power is in our belief in a political change and our faith that it will come to pass. Allowing these distractions to undermine our sense of the positive inevitable outcome could potentially produce unwanted results. As a advocate for the hope and change that is the hallmark of the Obama campaign, I will not let self inflicted fear deter me from the focus of renewal in this country. The days of setting on the sidelines and letting others carry the water for change are a luxury of bygone times. Each of us must pickup the pail of commitment in some form or another. Whether it is hosting events, making phone calls or travel to voters in swing states, calling apathetic relatives, talking in conservative or liberal chat rooms, voter registration or joining local political groups, we can lend a hand for change.

Though I have sent these photos to many of you already, it is worth reviewing and passing on. They spell out our charge and what we are working for. It is not the intent of this blog to make political statements but I felt moved to reach out to the many of you who are focused, assertive, successful people in your own realms of influence.

The Dawn of a New Season

2008-09-07T06:55:00.000-07:00

Just as the long rainy night washed away the summer heat, our transition back to the Hudson Valley washes away the high level of social activity that characterized our time on the Vineyard. A peaceful revelry now infuses our re-orientation to life in the country, which is an easy thing to do, with vistas of rolling hills, fresh air and the lull of bird calls serving as an inducement. The environment calls me to the end of season cleanups and preparations for the long months ahead. Bails of hay, haystacks, field cutting and cleared cornfields are iconic signs of a season in change.

Stepping into the classroom at Parsons again this week reminded me of why I have devoted more than 15 years to teaching. The young and inquisitive faces that stare back at me - as they assume the roles of personal responsibility and educational advancement - are expectant of finding new skills through discovery of their talents. They bring an infinite amount of experiences, as young people having lived all over the world, to provide vast perspectives for their design concepts. Living fashion is the credo at the design schools, however, I am personally challenged by the ever-changing names and faces in the industry and the "real-time" awareness that all of these young people have with it. In an effort to keep up I must read WWD, Vogue, DNR, each day, which is a totally different focus from my fine art career.

The full measure of a man or woman is not really known until you hear from the people whose lives they have touched. Such was the awareness that met Joe and myself when we went to see a tribute to our friend Philip Reed, the former New York City Councilman. Shown here with his colleague Candy Vasquez and a supporter. We learned that many of the parks, open spaces and monuments that grace the upper half of Manhattan had been brought to their current revitalizations because of Philip. Add to that, the work he has done for seniors in the city, his health care initiatives, including HIV, rescuing The Museum of the City of New York and other local institutions, the beginning and sponsorship of many political careers, and you see a man of many dimensions. I left wanting to provide such a legacy to the world based on all the love that was showered on him by major and minor politicians, constituents, beneficiaries and friends.

Fall Forward

2008-09-02T05:27:00.000-07:00

Our two car caravan of dreams wound it's way back from the shores of Martha's Vineyard to the pastoral hills of the Hudson Valley, carrying back the happiest of memories and bouyed by the feeling of success. Joining the well known annual pilgramage to schools to drop off loved ones, we stopped by The College of Holy Cross to deliver our "godson" Ricon Wrenn for his senior year there. His first visit to the Vineyard in August was met with the swirl of events that highlights that time of year.

With the formal opening of Suesan Stovall's fabulous new gallery, at her home in Oak Bluffs, we met many friends and collectors for a "dancing in the street" type of event. Her charming mom was in attendance, looking lovelier than ever, greeting all ever so graciously.

Of course, the creative offerings for our last week on the Vineyard did not stop there. The wonderful talents of Myrna Morris were on display at Cousen Rose Gallery, with a new collection of nudes and dancers. We were also delighted to finally see a collection of Dorothy Burnham's evocative collages that transported viewers to southern and African locales, at the Featherstone Gallery.

Of the many uplifting experiences I had in those final days on the Vineyard, none were more delightful than the time I spent sketching the beautiful Adrienne Childs. As we sat, overlooking the lagoon, on the most beautiful of days, we discovered a deep respect and regard for one another. It was in the process of doing this sketch, I now realize, more than ever, that I want to capture the beauty and confidence of the women who visit the island every year. It is this essence that makes the Vineyard so memorable for me.

Upon our return to the Hudson Valley we were met by friends to go to Tanglewood to see the jazz vocalist, Dianne Reeves, who was in the best voice ever. The following day began at the Columbia County Fair in Chatham where we saw every manner of agricultural device and farm animal known in the northeast. Met there by the ever vivacious Carol LaBrie (who was featured in the recent Italian Vogue "Black Issue") and her husband the well-known photographer Uli Rose, we enjoyed our return to the bucolic climes of the Hudson Valley, with our thoughts turned toward the season ahead.

Summer Recedes

2008-08-22T05:45:00.000-07:00

Even in the morning and evening breezes one can begin to feel the cool charge of fall on it's way. The late starting summer will have a shortened season with falls timely arrival.
The week has been filled with many fun gatherings, with visiting friends and wonderful dinners at friends' homes. From the international feast created by Lorraine Wyche and her daughter Shahara, followed by the Italian fare at Valerie Preston and her divine mom, Jackie Orridge, to the annual Illumination Night Bash at Wesley and Judy Mayo Jr's home in the campgrounds. Yesterday morning began with a breath-taking view of the Vineyard Harbor for breakfast at Amy Goldson's home, an early collector of my work. Last night we were at the home of Zita and her husband Michael Brown, to enjoy a delicious multi course feast that she had prepared herself. With Bob Hayden also in attendance, the conversation became quite lively about all manner of things. That set us off for the finale of the evening, a dance-a thon at Lola's, where the "funky" music rocked the house all evening.

After playing some bid-whist on the beach this afternoon we will attend the annual Martini Party given at Blaine and Virlynn's house, just before the fireworks display at Ocean Park. Afterwards, I will be at the Cousen Rose Gallery for the last evening of my solo showing to meet and greet last minute visitors. The inspiration that came from so many visitors responses to my work has encouraged me to complete another work while here on the island, that will also be included in the showing at the gallery. Also, the new prints that people ordered and many liked will also be available. Hopefully, we will see some of you there.

Opening Night at Cousen Rose Gallery

2008-08-18T04:53:00.001-07:00

Opening night at Cousen Rose Gallery for 2008 was indeed one of the most elevating moments of the year for me. Zita Cousen has hung a powerful showing of the work with her usual panache and flair. The energy of the attendees was at an all time high, filled with love and appreciation all around. As usual, so many people knew one another from all parts of the world and from different parts of their lives, and they all converged in this space and time together. As you can see from the attached photos, everyone enjoyed themselves, especially me and the photographer Joe Steele. We were only able to capture a fraction of the supporters and collectors that arrived but have warm memories of all that were there. The most heart-warming aspect of the evening was how entire families arrived to show their support. As I said before, the stars of the night were the attendees, and you know who you were. Thank you all so much for being there.

The Day of the Opening

2008-08-16T04:17:00.000-07:00

Imagine trying to stay calm when so many people are finally about to see the work you have been developing for almost a year. Though many would say they thought I was a calm person, they really don't feel the quakes that rattle my body at times like this. However, I am unusually calm this year because I have come to terms with the fact that things will be what they will be. The people who show up are the ones who were meant to be there. Their energy is special to me at this moment in time and to the world I inhabit and they will be the lights of this evening. Many people will be entirely new to me, yet, it is my friends and supporters that makes life as an artist worth living.
Many friends have made the trek to the Vineyard just in time to be at the opening. Hopefully, we will get photos of them and they will allow me to post those shots tomorrow.

Martha's Vineyard is known for it's exquisite vistas of the seas, however, I have not seen a vista quite like the one we had last night at the home where Orin Kramer and his wife Hillary Ballon were staying. The sweeping vista from a cliff overlooking the Vineyard Sound was breathtaking even for Vineyard standards. The guests included many political affiliates of the Democratic party, in town for the Barack Obama fundraiser, this evening, to be given at the equally impressive home of Connie and Preston Williams in the same area. I am happy to say they are collectors of my work, starting with a painting of their pond I did several years ago.

The watercolor painting above is of the front porch of the amazing author, Jill Nelson's, home in Ocean Park, situated right at the town beach overlooking the water.It is entitled "Tranquility House".

August 16th exhibition

2008-08-13T05:30:00.000-07:00

Cousen Rose Gallery

Morning on the Vineyard

2008-08-10T07:36:00.000-07:00

The beauty of a clear summer morning on Martha's Vineyard is something I am still impressed with after all these years. The clarity of light and the crispness of color are like etchings in my mind's eye, that fortunately returns in a blink of reflection. Joe Steele and I arrived here, in Oak Bluffs, yesterday in our two car caravan from our home in Claverack. This year we decided to bring up all the artwork for the show at Cousen Rose Gallery, beginning on August 16th, in a separate car. This way the shipping costs were eliminated, and we could oversee the transport of the work ourselves. When the option presents itself to personally transport work to galleries rather than ship it, I prefer the former for those reasons.

Today will begin with the preparations for a commissioned oil painting of a beautiful young woman, a student from Wesleyan, who is visiting the island at the same time. The setting for the painting will be outdoors, as to complement her natural beauty with the nature here. It has been in recent years that I have started to marry my skills as a landscape artist with my abilities to paint beautiful women. I am unsure as to why it has taken so many years to bring these two sides of myself together but I am enjoying the results, and so do many viewers.

Attached today is an oil painting entitled "Blue Flamenco", which is the last painting I had completed in this series for the showing here.

Later this evening, we will attend the Martha's Vineyard Festival, which guarantees to be a great show because one of my favorite singers of all time, Gladys Knight, will be performing. The concert will be particularly refreshing because it is being held outdoors in Ocean Park, an ocean front community that borders a park that overlooks the Nantucket Sound.

2008-08-02T04:53:00.000-07:00

August opens with a tremendous response from you guys to the blog with many of you saying you'll be back. Today is one of those busy days where so many elements have to be brought together. To begin with, I will pickup the last works for the show from the framer's at Park Row Gallery in Chatham, NY.
These new works of art are a new direction for me since they are of dancers. The genesis of the idea came from a group show I was in entitled "Vibrations" for Black History Month at the Shellnut Gallery at RPI in Troy, NY. The photos on exhibit of major dancers, like Alvin Ailey and Gregory Hines, were supplied by Norton Owen, director of Archives at Jacob's Pillow in Lenox, MA. He and the Shellnut Gallery director, Mary Udell, suggested I do a series of dancers for a future exhibition there. Taking this motivation on, I created two works on dancers. Included here is "A Roda", which combines my style of "dashilism" brush strokes with the rhythmic swirl found in many of my abstract paintings.
My next stop is meeting with one of my giclee technicians to pickup newly created prints to be available for the show in August. This is a very involved process that requires working closely with someone to see your vision and translate it into the color and intensity of the original painting.
From there I am off to an opening of my friend Elissa Gore's work at the Windham Fine Arts Gallery, where they are having a "plein-aire" day, that includes a dozen other extremely talented artists. She is a terrific painter and an inspiration to me, as well as, being a mentor because of her success in the art world.

2008-07-31T19:22:00.000-07:00

July comes to end with me putting the final touches on my work for the annual exhibition on Martha's Vineyard at Cousen Rose Gallery, which opens August 16th. It has been a busy month with the opening of my work in a group show at Pierre Paul Art Gallery in Ann Arbor, MI. It has been a big achievement for me to have my work represented by such a great gallery. The gallery on the Vineyard is only open for the summer season, whereas the Ann Arbor gallery is year round. With my birthday just ending July 29th, I am ready for my new solar year. Today was the day to put the final varnish on the oil paintings. The effect of varnish is the enhancement of the colors and their relationship to one another. The actual painting process leaves an uneven quality of shine and tone in the brushstrokes, which are brought together more with a final varnish. I am happy with the finished painting entitled "Luzes do Brazil", because it captures a whimsical and graphic combinations of brushstrokes. This painting reflects a summer sunset on the bay in Salvador, Bahia. The view is from a private sailboat that belonged to our friend Ricardo who was also the captain.