http://sculptorsjournal.com
http://dawntreestudio.com
http://henrymitchellsculptor.com
Copyright © 2005-2010 henry mitchell
Copyright for all artwork shown on this site resides with the artist.
http://dawntreestudio.com
http://henrymitchellsculptor.com
Copyright © 2005-2010 henry mitchell
Copyright for all artwork shown on this site resides with the artist.
Thursday 15 October 2009- Terrific mast crop this year- in places the acorns are so thick on the ground they roll like bearings underfoot, making walking treacherous. My old mentor Bruce Holt would say that's a sign we should expect heavy snow this winter.
Alan Rochussen brought us some chard from his garden, which I curried tonight with some bits of smoked bacon, chilies, onions and cranberries, stir fried in a little olive oil, and then simmered for a bit in cider. Gordon Ramsey couldn't do better. Thanks, Alan.
Saturday 17 October 2009- What now? What next?
In terms of work, I don't see many paintings out there, although that is what I've been working on the last few days. I'm not a painter. I'm a sculptor, who occasionally makes paintings. Ideas abound for constructions (assemblages). There are a couple of free-standing pieces begun before surgery that need to be completed.
There will likely be more of them in the future. A more extensive use of text is almost certain. More shaped components, perhaps the inclusion of some carved figurative elements. Beyond these vague notions, who can tell? The Spirit moves where She will. One takes up the work at hand, and working, waits to be touched.
Alan Rochussen brought us some chard from his garden, which I curried tonight with some bits of smoked bacon, chilies, onions and cranberries, stir fried in a little olive oil, and then simmered for a bit in cider. Gordon Ramsey couldn't do better. Thanks, Alan.
Saturday 17 October 2009- What now? What next?
In terms of work, I don't see many paintings out there, although that is what I've been working on the last few days. I'm not a painter. I'm a sculptor, who occasionally makes paintings. Ideas abound for constructions (assemblages). There are a couple of free-standing pieces begun before surgery that need to be completed.
There will likely be more of them in the future. A more extensive use of text is almost certain. More shaped components, perhaps the inclusion of some carved figurative elements. Beyond these vague notions, who can tell? The Spirit moves where She will. One takes up the work at hand, and working, waits to be touched.
Monday 19 October 2009- It appears I'm becoming a baker in my old age. I bake almost daily. I bake for my own house; I bake for friends and strangers. I don't bake for money. That would steal the joy. I love to get into the kitchen early before first light and begin preparing the dough. Baking is an activity conducive to prayer and reflection. The yeast raises the dough as the Spirit fills the soul. The familiar, repetitive tasks center one in the moment without demanding busy thoughts, The baker is free to listen while the hands knead and the mind rests.
RIGHT: Irish style brown bread. Plate by Jeff Greene
Thursday 22 October 2009- When did the idea begin to take root in the organized church (and this includes para-church organizations) that worship is a pleasure trip? Certainly economics plays a part. No organization, faith-based or otherwise, can gain patrons and meet a payroll if their product doesn't have some consumer appeal. Worship activity has become something of a commodity in our culture. Our worship is not for God, Who certainly doesn't need our praise and thanksgiving for fulfillment and completion. We praise God and give thanks because we need to do so; the purpose of worship, whether it is done in solitude and silence, or in community with much whooprah, is to draw us closer to our Lord. Being close to Jesus may make us feel better, but if the experience of the first disciples is any indication, proximity to Christ is more likely to make us exceedingly uncomfortable.
What has any of this to do with art? Art, too has become a commodity. Works of art are acquired more often for their market value than their aesthetic properties. Still, people have some expectation that art should beautify our lives, be pleasurable on some level, like going to church. Good art may or may not be beautiful; however, it is always truthful. The purpose of any work of art should not be to pleasure us, but to clarify our vision, to give us a window through which we can see truly.
A case in point: Most viewers would look at the photograph of the sourwood leaves at left, and enjoy the beautiful colors. The photographer would want us to do that, but would also mean for us to be aware that the leaves are beautiful because they are dying. The deeper message of the image is not that the leaves are beautiful, but that natural beauty is transient and illusory.
What has any of this to do with art? Art, too has become a commodity. Works of art are acquired more often for their market value than their aesthetic properties. Still, people have some expectation that art should beautify our lives, be pleasurable on some level, like going to church. Good art may or may not be beautiful; however, it is always truthful. The purpose of any work of art should not be to pleasure us, but to clarify our vision, to give us a window through which we can see truly.
A case in point: Most viewers would look at the photograph of the sourwood leaves at left, and enjoy the beautiful colors. The photographer would want us to do that, but would also mean for us to be aware that the leaves are beautiful because they are dying. The deeper message of the image is not that the leaves are beautiful, but that natural beauty is transient and illusory.
Friday 23 October 2009- Plugging away at my little paintings, although I've yet to finish one, or even generate much enthusiasm. As for "Ellard's Place" (right), some days it seems I'm getting closer; some days it seems far too far away. Actually, I'm just keeping busy while I'm waiting for something to happen, some spark of recognition that will set me off on a course- which will likely have nothing to do with paintings at all.
BELOW:
"Ellard's Place"
acrylic on canvas
24 x 20 in.
RIGHT:
"Ellard's Place" (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
24 x 20 in.
Monday 26 October 2009- So here it is (below). "Ellard's Place", as close as I'm going to get. Maybe another painting or two before I move on, but something builds; I'm beginning to see it now."Ellard's Place" (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
24 x 20 in.
BELOW:
"Ellard's Place"
acrylic on canvas
24 x 20 in.
Tuesday 27 October 2009- I live each day conscious of the presence of the living Christ. I can understand why some people don't. Harder to understand- why would anyone who is not convinced that Jesus is active in their life go to the trouble of maintaining a religious facade? If there is anything more unhealthy than unbelief, it is a pretense of faith.
Wednesday 28 October 2009- It seems I'll be a painter for a few more days. After the fog this morning, the day blossomed into light, shot through with sun, warm as spring. I stood outside the yurts, cleaning my brushes, soaking up the shine, and remembered that a year ago, I was visiting my daughter at Brown, freezing in a snowstorm. I recalled driving up to Providence, an old man wondering where his life had gone, then standing with Kate outside her loft, waiting for her dog to pee, while cold snowflakes sifted down my collar, sharp as sparks, and Kate's face was alive and alight as she talked about her days, warming my tired soul- and I knew then where my life had gone, gathered up into a life larger and more fierce than mine had ever been, about to sail off toward lands the likes of which I will never see nor dream of.
Now, standing in the sun, soap and brushes in hand, with the light striking off everything around, sharp as sparks, I remember, and am convinced again that I am gathered up into a Life larger than my own, sailing off into lands the likes of which I have never seen nor dreamt of.
So, today, I begin a portrait (below).
Now, standing in the sun, soap and brushes in hand, with the light striking off everything around, sharp as sparks, I remember, and am convinced again that I am gathered up into a Life larger than my own, sailing off into lands the likes of which I have never seen nor dreamt of.
So, today, I begin a portrait (below).
Thursday 30 October 2009- Free at Last! Out to Raven Cliff Falls with Mark Lawrence today. The ridge beyond Caesar's Head was socked in when we began walking, and when we reached the shelter at the overlook by the intersection with the Dismal trail, the falls were invisible. But as we ate our lunch, the fog began to lift, and by the time we packed up the falls were revealed (above). On our return, the sun broke through in the valley below, and the Dismal was alight with glory.
LEFT:
"The Professor" (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
30 x 24 in.
Tuesday 2 November 2009- Plodding along with "The Professor" (below). Slowly, slowly, a form gathers in the void. The journey to a face can be as long and as circuitous as the journey to a place. Painting is like trying to find your way home over a strange road. After awhile, familiar landmarks begin to appear, and eventually you are on a way you know; but you start out on faith and dead reckoning.
LEFT:
"The Professor" (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
30 x 24 in.
Tuesday 2 November 2009- Plodding along with "The Professor" (below). Slowly, slowly, a form gathers in the void. The journey to a face can be as long and as circuitous as the journey to a place. Painting is like trying to find your way home over a strange road. After awhile, familiar landmarks begin to appear, and eventually you are on a way you know; but you start out on faith and dead reckoning.
Tuesday 3 November 2009- For days, I have been dreading driving over the mountain to Lexington, Kentucky tomorrow to fetch home some work I had in a show there. This morning, word came that all the pieces had found a home. To celebrate, I voted a straight democratic ticket in the city elections, and took a walk out to my favorite thin place (below).
Wednesday 4 November 2008- My more "effluent" neighbors are hiring people to mow their lawns, rake (blow) their leaves and plant their fall borders so they have time to go to a gym and work out (they pay for that, too). I wish Congress could fine tune this recession to affect those who need it.
LEFT:
Morning mist- Raven Cliff Falls Trail
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
Greenville County SC
LEFT:
Morning mist- Raven Cliff Falls Trail
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
Greenville County SC
Thursday 5 November 2009- Every time I put my hand to it, I realize afresh that I'm not really a painter- certainly not a portraitist. Some of my friends seem to quickly settle into a comfortable style; they saunter along after whatever image or effects they want without thinking much about process. I have to start from scratch each time, and clear a new trail everytime out.
Sculpture, on the other hand, seems to play itself like Bach's organ. All I need to do is pay attention, and the work will show me what to do next. Whether this makes my sculpture better than my painting depends on who is looking at it.
Sculpture, on the other hand, seems to play itself like Bach's organ. All I need to do is pay attention, and the work will show me what to do next. Whether this makes my sculpture better than my painting depends on who is looking at it.
RIGHT:
"The Professor" (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
30 x 24 in.
"The Professor" (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
30 x 24 in.
Friday 6 November 2009- A few more days and it will be getting too cold in the yurts for acrylics and glue to cure properly. Then it will be winter work: mostly carving and drawing. I will miss the light, which will probably lead to less work and more walks on the mountain. Then, by and by, it will be spring again, with or without me.
Saturday 7 November 2009- Beautiful morning, crisp and bright! Time to gather in the warm-weather ornamentals, turn some compost into the vacant planting beds, and mulch them down for winter. Time to clear brush and weeds, and take long walks out on the mountain. Fortunately, I don't have that much brush and weeds to clear.
"The Professor" (right) begins to gather now. An end, or at least, a stopping place is in sight.
Sunday 8 November 2009- Ah, Carolina in November, where on a sunwashed morning camellias are blooming by the door (below)! Praise to the Mother for all Her blessings, small and great.
"The Professor" (right) begins to gather now. An end, or at least, a stopping place is in sight.
Sunday 8 November 2009- Ah, Carolina in November, where on a sunwashed morning camellias are blooming by the door (below)! Praise to the Mother for all Her blessings, small and great.
The more I make works of art, the clearer it becomes that on the deepest level, my life is not about making art at all. The objects I fashion are merely artifacts, tracks of the Spirit moving along the hidden paths of God's enlivening Presence, welling up from where the Lord Christ is ever creating and redeeming the world, deep, deep, deep in each everliving soul.
Monday 9 November 2009- Walked with three friends today along the Middle Saluda River up to Jones Gap Falls (right), where we fed, rested, and were still for a spell, before we drifted back down the valley toward home. There is no metaphor for Presence like a waterfall, ever arriving, ever leaving, ever there. One of our little company remarked, "God is ever faithful, and I am ever grateful."
God is ever faithful. And so we are each of us held in being moment by the eternal Word who is ever making and remaking all things, so that we can be here to behold the wonder of creation, and to know that within it there are no "ordinary" things, and to add our own tiny praises and thanksgivings to the long and mighty witness of stones and stars.
My little portrait (below) is about as finished as it's likely to get. This is probably my last painting for awhile, although I won't swear to it. But other beasts are lumbering over the horizon. There was a draft under the door, and I stepped out to see what stirred, and now I hear it closing behind me. Nothing to do but go to meet them that come.
God is ever faithful. And so we are each of us held in being moment by the eternal Word who is ever making and remaking all things, so that we can be here to behold the wonder of creation, and to know that within it there are no "ordinary" things, and to add our own tiny praises and thanksgivings to the long and mighty witness of stones and stars.
My little portrait (below) is about as finished as it's likely to get. This is probably my last painting for awhile, although I won't swear to it. But other beasts are lumbering over the horizon. There was a draft under the door, and I stepped out to see what stirred, and now I hear it closing behind me. Nothing to do but go to meet them that come.
LEFT:
"The Professor"
acrylic on canvas
30 x 24 in.
"The Professor"
acrylic on canvas
30 x 24 in.