Stilling Life

Some of my paintings are now on display at the Multnomah Friends Meetinghouse at 4312 SE Stark Street. (I’ve included images of three here.) Except for Sundays, the open hours at the building are pretty hit and miss.

I’ve written the requisite statement to go with the exhibit, but I won’t share it here. Instead I will offer other thoughts that occurred to me as I considered what to say.

As a Quaker who worships in silence, I find special meaning in the art term “still life.” The phrase from Psalm 46: “Be still and know that I am God” is at the heart of it. Painting a still life requires one to still one’s own life and, in so doing, “know God.” The painting invites the same of the viewer. Be still!

In that still state, the Art Spirit, to use Robert Henri's term, inhabits the canvas.

A still life has been defined as a painting of an inanimate object or objects. I include landscapes in the definition because they can be frozen and made still by photography. To me, the above seascape is a still life, a depiction of stillness as seen from an Oregon beach.

What is this “stillness”?

It is more than quiet, more than meditation. The stillness is not simply within you but at large and accessible when you turn to it.

It is the stillness depicted in a still-life painting.

Stillness conveys a purity of Truth, with a capital “T.” Words cannot describe it. An image, however, offers an opening by stilling life as experienced by artist and observer.

A still life is painting ... and being.

Confessions of an art student

I’m taking a watercolor class this term at the local arts center. It’s a low-key studio class without grades and with plenty of encouragement.

At the first of eight sessions, I found myself an outsider in the group, which has been taking and re-taking this class seemingly for years. Perhaps that is why this is called an "intermediate" class. I'm "in the middle" of a lot. Everyone is on a first-name basis (Barbara, Marilyn, Jeanne, Tricia, Meg etc.). All but two, Jack and me, are women.There’s talk about relatives, recent vacations and getting over the flu or worse. The one thing we share is time; all are on the retiring side of middle age.

If we weren’t painting, we might be knitting or sewing — or playing golf.

The main idea seems to be making sure everyone paints for at least three hours once a week. Without the class, we’d all be doing something else in our retirement.

Each week, at the start of the class, there’s a time to display our previous week’s painting for comments. The paintings are stunningly diverse, both in content, execution and technique.

I’ve tried to capture the amiable mood of the class above because it has so little to do with my thoughts about being “in class” again.

In the back of my head I hold on to the dark thought that there must be a grading curve, that my fellow classmates — gentle souls — are really dogged competitors. My work will be judged by the teacher and by the others and found to be either wonderful or sadly wanting. Who knows? I might even flunk.

I’ve been surprised that along with my brushes, paints and paper tablet I arrive with such guarded, defensive, almost aggressive feelings — that I still harbor a deep angst left over from years of schooling.

I think the problem resides in the word “class.” I know that some of the course descriptions at the art center use the word “workshop,” perhaps to avoid associations students have with “class.” But to me, “workshop” always conjures up Santa and his non-union elves. Not far away is the term “sweatshop.”

What goes on between 9:30 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. in our art center watercolor room is something else. But what? A meditation? A respite? An exploration? Discoveries? A gathering of congenial muses? A painting circle?

It’s all of these and whatever else we want it to be. The one thing I don’t want is a “class.”

Lost and found Art: the Final hint.

Here's the final hint for finding this large graffiti mural....

From the intersection of Sunset Boulevard and what was once Slavin Road go east beyond the #12 bus stop to the old road. This section is no longer used except by artists and those who happen upon their art.

The challenge and earlier hints are here and here and here.

Lost and Found Art: Hint #2

Still no guesses on where the mystery murals are. Go here to see what they look like and here for the first hint.

The second hint is visual. Here is the setting for the graffiti murals. You can see them on the retaining wall in the middle of the photo. And, yes, that is a leaf-strewn, abandoned road.

What is the road's name? How do you get to it?

Tomorrow: The final hint.

Lost and Found Art: Hint #1

The murals I shared in yesterday's post must have readers baffled. No one has ventured a guess about their location. I promised a hint a day until someone comes up with the answer.

Yesterday I said the artwork was in the "Hillsdale area." Yes, I know the headline said Hillsdale, and broadly speaking that's true, a notion left over from the pre-Hillsdale Neighborhood, "Hillsdale is a state of mind" days.

The murals aren't within the official boundaries of the Hillsdale Neighborhood, but they are literally a stone's throw from it. So think about places along the fringes of Hillsdale.

I guess this makes the murals "fringe art."

Sorry....

Found art in Hillsdale — but where?

These two large works of art are on display somewhere outdoors in the Hillsdale area.

But where exactly?

Red Electric readers are invited to reveal their location.



If no one has the answer after a day, I'll offer a clue each day until this artistic riddle is solved.

The prize for the right answer is this gleaming Chevrolet hubcap suitable for display in your garage, closet or shower stall.

See yesterday's post.