[SPOILER ALERT ~If your name is Kevin or Laura M.~ DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER]
However, if you’re not Kevin or Laura M. then do please read on.
These lovely people commissioned me to undertake a big project for them— a series of 4 paintings tied together thematically by the “seasons”, done in my usual botanical style and content. So that means the images will be overflowing with plants and animals, particularly bugs, flowers, etc. Everything jockeying for a place onstage, tumbling and vying, interacting with the environment, living in their niches.
After prepping each of the 36” x 36” panels with an oil ground I began with “Summer”, drawing directly on the white surface with various pencil hardnesses. I feared that I might gouge the ground, but the oil finish proved to be quite hardy and un-abraded. Pink Pearl erasers are perfect for the task.
The 4 hardboard panels prepped with an oil ground.
The beginning drawing to “Summer” , one panel in a series of 4. You can see the carabiners at the top rail holding the pulleys that are part of the counterweight system I created to upgrade my easel.
The 36” x 36” panel with a layer of grey toner underpaint. The inked lines help to keep me from losing the drawing too quickly as I add layers of paint.
Additionally, I had to modify my easel to accommodate the weight of these cradled panels. My old easel’s support and set knob weren’t up to the task, so I upgraded it with a simple weight and pulley system on the back of the easel which provides a counter-balance to the weight of the panels. You can watch that easel counterweight upgrade in action in this video.
Currently, I’ve got the drawings for Winter and Spring underway and will update my blog with newer posts and images as the work progresses.
The first few layers of oil paint in a small section of “Summer”
Second pass on the same area.
More progress as of 16 April 2023.
Progress on Summer, 27 Apr, 2023.
Near-completion of Summer, November 2023. It’s even got my cartouche.
Just so you know, Kevin and Laura don’t want to see any of the painting in progress. Instead, they’ve opted to look at a few drawings but they want to wait to see all four of the completed paintings in person. I’m in awe of their ability to delay their gratification and to withstand the crazy amount of anticipation this must be creating for them. It’ll be great fun to finally make the trip to Arkansas to deliver the art when it’s finished.
Hai, Art Gnome, thanks for reading!
Most artists have been taught that self-critique means finding what's wrong and fixing it. But real self-critique isn't subtractive — it's gravitational. Here's how to find the signal that actually guides your best work.
Within a month I had more cleaning clients than I had hours for — so I gave the overflow to another person who needed a start, the same way my friend had given her clients to me. The demand didn't dry up. It never does.
I was testing new glazes — a project I've been building for months, reformulating my entire palette away from heavy metal oxides toward Mason stains. Safer chemistry. What I didn't anticipate was…
Your work's right to exist doesn't depend on whether you've been validated, or trained, or praised, or paid. It depends on whether you show up for it.
A friend of mine and I have been arguing about realism in art. It started with a conversation about photo reference. It prompted a larger question in my mind: what makes realism meaningful in the first place? And how much of it does a viewer actually need?
In 2022, I wrote about beginning to make my own pottery glazes from raw materials. Commercial bottled glazes were convenient, but expensive, and I had an itch to develop something more personal. Over five years of experimentation, I’ve come to understand the qualities I’m after…
IlluXCon is always a wild, wonderful week—equal parts exhaustion and exhilaration. Held at the GoggleWorks in Reading, it fills three floors with some of the best Imaginative Realism artists working today, and I’m always grateful to be part of that creative storm. 2025 was no exception.
Ever wonder why some images hold your attention while others fall flat? In this post, I share the compositional secrets that make an image unboring—and why our subconscious responds so powerfully to them.
The Manor Mill Gallery in Monkton, MD (say that fast three times!) was the perfect venue for From the Forest. Nestled in Maryland’s rolling hills, the Mill is surrounded by woodland and hiking trails—an ideal setting for a forest-themed show.
Some of my sigil tiles sprouted wings—so naturally, the paintings had to follow. In this post, I share how clay sketches began transforming into small oil paintings, carrying the Eye of Providence and other symbols into dreamlike new forms.
Winter is the third panel in the Seasons series for my friends, a lovely couple who now live in Arkansas. We met several years ago at an art conference and they were there as avid fans of imaginative realist art. They found my work and subsequently invited us to visit them. Sometime after that, they commissioned this series.
I’ve been having a lot of fun with the sigil series lately. I especially enjoy making them in rhythm with the seasons—letting each one echo the mood of the turning year.
Lughnasadh is a time of harvest, of gathering what’s grown, and of giving thanks for all that has carried us this far.
Why do I sculpt so many eyes into my work? It’s a question I get asked a lot—sometimes nervously. The answer has more to do with protection, presence, and ancient symbolism than you might expect...
Scheduled for August 23rd, the exhibition, “Out of the Forest” will be held at Manor Mill Gallery in Monkton, MD. Some works in progress here.
When I made this piece, I started thinking differently about legacy. It’s not just about me lasting. It’s about us. I want humanity to survive this perilous moment we’re living through. I want us to make it to the other side of whatever this is….
The Sigils are evolving a bit into something intriguing and new. I’m planning on offering a set to mark the eight seasons of the year’s Wheel. Litha, or Midsummer, is coming up on June 21st, representing the vibrant season of light, zenith, celebration, and radiance.
I’d never made a yarn bowl before so when a fan of my work asked me to make her some, I was intrigued with the challenge.
My own work is traveling a bit of a strange route of late. Since I’ve delved more into the meaning and making of sigils, I’m finding that they want to crop up everywhere in the art…
Asimov’s I, Robot stories; the idea of positronic brains, the laws of robotics, etc., fascinated me. I loved the mix of complex ancient civilizations, philosophy, and science fiction. His writing made the potential exploration of worlds by future beings seem so vast and interesting.
How is it possible to feel a “continuity of self” when all the cells in my body— with the exception of the lens of my eye— have regenerated more than once? I’m certain that I’ll still feel continuity of self when I’m 75.
What has become pretty clear to me is this: Artists who use their work or others’ work to train an AI to spit out images for them to paint are completely missing the real value of what they potentially could get from working with an AI assistant.
The gallery, Manor Mill in Monkton, MD, has invited me to participate in their group invitational show, “Out of the Forest” this August.
Some time ago, my friend, Marian, asked me to make a sigil tile for her. What the heck was that? I thought. A sigil, or “seal” is a magical symbol of a desired outcome based on a word.
Lately, I’ve been adding videos of my sculpting process on my YouTube channel. I uploaded this one in February after firing a huge batch of mugs.
I’ll be attempting to provide you with shorter blog posts more frequently— once or twice a week — to fill you in on what’s happening in my studio.
Recently, I downloaded the ChatGPT app to see what all the fuss was about and I was pleasantly surprised at how immediately the AI made itself useful…
Recently, I sold this little piece and was quite happy to hear that the buyer was someone who was familiar with my ceramics (they have a handful of monsterpots) but was totally unfamiliar with my drawings and paintings…
Heartbreak is only temporary pain as I scoop the shattered bits of tiles into the dustpan or repair kiln shelves from the bubbled bits of glass fused to their surfaces. My heart begins to mend from the many failures with every dried bit of greenware I dump back into the clay reclamation bucket. Because with every failure, I earn an experience which teaches me something new about my craft.
"Is art school worth it?" is the wrong question — it assumes worth can be measured before you know what you're shopping for. Drawing on three very different schools and what each one actually delivered, here's a better way to figure out what you need before you enroll in anything.