Brinkerhoff Brimmeth Over

Next couple of phases.

2011-11-09T16:15:00.000-08:00

Added a bit of grout, visible in the top image. Not sure I like how the blacks dwindled, but I'll take it for a first attempt. There's much more to do, including adding gray-green tiles to the area outside the comb, and then setting it into the floor, surrounded by larger marble squares.

Progress. Just a bit.

2011-11-06T16:20:00.000-08:00

I really don't know what I am doing.

Bee Mosaic

2011-11-05T13:26:00.001-07:00

Working on this for the house.

An Army of Patriots.

2011-10-09T03:48:00.000-07:00

Article about the need for an "army of patriots" in support of public education.

Self-Regulation

2011-10-05T15:59:00.000-07:00

Beneficiary.

2011-09-28T16:34:00.000-07:00

Santo Stefano.

2011-04-10T13:13:00.001-07:00

Photos from my week at the dune shack.

2011-04-10T12:59:00.000-07:00

Spring break.

2011-02-26T04:04:00.000-08:00

No electricity, no running water.
Just mute isolation in the dunes.

Finito.

2011-02-07T13:55:00.000-08:00

2011-01-19T11:01:00.001-08:00

Fugit hora.

2011-01-14T16:06:00.000-08:00

Time is fleeting.

I've done a little more work on the painting, but time is short for me these days with all of the paper pushing and such at school. I need to finish.

A new development is that I'm considering reproduction of the Prayer in Latin, as opposed to English. I am concerned that it may read a little holy roller (not my point) so obscuring the language may steer me clear of that trap.

St. Francis Progress

2010-12-27T14:33:00.000-08:00

After several days of inactivity (a combination of post-semester and holiday doldrums) I got back in the studio, thanks to the foot or so of snow dumped on us last night. Here's the progress thus far. Lightening up a bit, working things all over. I'm trying to be careful to avoid a coloring book approach, keeping things pretty dark until I can decide what to do with color in its final state.

Head above water.

2010-12-23T02:22:00.000-08:00

Good question.

2010-12-22T15:35:00.001-08:00

Apology.

2010-12-19T05:40:00.001-08:00

The Martyrdom of Saint Stephen

2010-12-15T15:04:00.000-08:00

St. Francis Progress

2010-12-12T07:06:00.000-08:00

Beginning the Prayer of St. Francis

2010-12-06T07:40:00.000-08:00

I'm very excited about this new painting. It's about 4 x 3 feet, based on a sketch done several months ago. Here, I've laid down an underpainting on black gesso as a means to block out the figure/ground relationships.

Like the St. Theresa sketch shown in a post from a couple of days ago, I'm pursuing some ideas about self-reflection (literally) in dialogue by mystics like Francis and St. Theresa, whose relationships with God were, to my mind, really very full relationships with the self.

The RI6

2010-12-05T12:00:00.000-08:00

Finally getting around to posting some sketches and the finished logo for the Rhode Island Six Hour Ultramarathon and Relay, which was held in mid-November.

I did a ton of sketches, and I'm including a small sampling below. The final design (featured last in this post) was an amalgam of a couple of designs preferred by the client. I usually think throwing in too many independent ideas is a little risky, but in the end I think it worked out ok. My favorites were the digital clock ideas—pretty simple and not your typical race logo stuff.

The Ecstasy of St. Theresa

2010-12-05T09:15:00.000-08:00

I've become interested in the notion of dialogue of the self especially in instances of meditation and (literally) reflection. I see this in the Prayer of St. Francis and, now, in the words of St. Teresa of Avila.

Ecstasy

2010-11-24T04:27:00.000-08:00

"I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying."

iceberg mantra

2010-11-16T04:51:00.001-08:00

Another from the series I began in fall 2009. I keep working on them.
It's been an interesting evolution, from figure with iceberg to figure as iceberg.

iceberg mantra

2010-11-10T06:18:00.000-08:00

iceberg mantra

2010-11-08T13:04:00.000-08:00

iceberg mantra

2010-11-07T14:20:00.000-08:00

reiteration

2010-11-06T02:00:00.000-07:00

I turned to my sketchbook in earnest when painting became too precious.

iceberg, floating

2010-11-01T13:08:00.001-07:00

From the sketchbook.

2010-11-01T11:04:00.000-07:00

Iceberg drawings, old and new.

Sketch to Finish

2010-10-23T04:33:00.000-07:00

An article about municipality consolidation in Rhode Island. The city of Central Falls is less attractive than others when considering consolidation of municipal resources.

Optimism.

2010-09-10T05:35:00.001-07:00

Sounding Board.

2010-09-09T17:17:00.000-07:00

A poster for my class.

2010-09-06T15:51:00.000-07:00

Come on people. Sign up.

Pithy, but true.

2010-09-06T09:04:00.000-07:00

Syllabus.

2010-09-05T14:18:00.001-07:00

The product of lobbies and meetings.

2010-09-05T04:45:00.001-07:00

Tongue.

2010-09-03T15:24:00.000-07:00

Cunning, Baffling, Powerful.

2010-08-30T13:03:00.000-07:00

Hemispheria.

2010-08-14T14:33:00.000-07:00

Cognitive growth.

2010-08-12T07:44:00.000-07:00

Running update.

2010-08-10T18:02:00.000-07:00

I don't write about running much any more, primarily because I haven't been serious about it for a few years. When I was in Rome I ran quite a lot but only raced three times in the two years that I lived there, so I did lose a lot of the psychological focus which I found so essential to racing well. I'm still struggling to get that back, especially with the other important developments that have transpired in my life in recent years.

I signed on for the Memphis Marathon a couple of weeks ago. It's been six years since my last long race in Richmond--where I was in the best shape of my life and hoping to run 3:05 or thereabouts, yet stumbled in with a disappointing 3:15. I came lumbering down the last hill nearly bent in half from fatigue and felt a lot of remorse, having run just a few seconds too fast for each of the first 17 miles. My poor old ma was pretty shaken up to see me in such cruddy shape.

While I don't think I'll come close to either of those times, I'm eager to see how things shake out, and I'm especially excited to see my old friends. I haven't been back to Memphis since 1998, I suppose, and I do miss the folks there---some of the best friends I have made in life.

I started an 18 week training schedule last week and immediately found myself with a small setback. My right calf—nothing serious, and I do have many months to go before the race (it's December 4, so I guess I still have about 16-17 weeks to prepare). I suppose I'm lucky that it's only my second month of training, but it's maddeningly typical. Just as things begin to improve I invariably have to take a little break to heal from some muscular annoyance.

The orthopedist seems to think it began with my piriformis syndrome problem. The piriformis is a small muscle embedded deep behind the gluteus maximus. The muscle often becomes inflamed in runners and ultimately causes terrific pain when it presses on the sciatic nerve. . I have a tough time driving for even five minutes due to sciatica—a literal pain in the ass. But my piriformis problem seems to have waned over the past few days and it's been replaced by a nagging pain in my right calf when I run as little as 1/4 mile. I tried heading out tonight for a nine-miler at dusk, but had to turn back.

Rest and ice. Massage, I guess.

Anyway, back to my long distance, bipedal aspirations. I'm really chomping at the bit to race again. While I'm pretty humbled by my current running companions—a group of guys I run with on Thursday nights—I hope to be able to keep up with them soon. They're great rabbits for me to chase, and while I may not catch them anytime soon, I've got to give it a shot.

It's been a while since I allowed the compulsion to overwhelm me. While it may not sound like a lot to some people, I ran six marathons in two years and I got pretty ground down by the training. My body and mind went through noticeable changes. My brain, and my way of thinking, changed. I began to consider almost everything in terms of time and distance and—if nothing else—I finally became able to do simple math in my head (you hear that Mrs. Updyke, you draconian bitch of a first grade teacher?). Most importantly, I had precious little energy for studio work. I spoke with a colleague about this phenomenon, and she agreed that she finds it impossible to divide her attention between athletic and artistic endeavor. For me, it felt as if the same reservoir of energy was available to both, and running drank the well dry.

I'm of the belief that if you're going to run 26.2 miles you should have a good reason, and for me the reason was always to fully appreciate the limits of my body by running that distance as fast as I was able. All told I did fairly well during that stretch of adulthood, and I'm sorry I took something of a break from it because there's a lot of catching up to do.

I'll get there.

College Prep

2010-08-10T15:18:00.000-07:00

OK.

Straight out of the gate, I'll admit that I've been procrastinating for weeks. No big surprise there, as I'm no stranger to delay tactics. But with each inexorable step toward the first day of classes, I long desperately for a mythic, inexhaustible source of inspiration to plan my classes.

The prospect of showing up the first day unprepared (or, worse, trying like hell to sustain a class for 13 weeks on the scant traces of comprehensible ideas which are currently flitting around in my skull—cognitive free radicals) terrifies me. I must continually remind myself that this is the perennial prelude to the play. It begins with denial and an increasing preoccupation with menial tasks, things that I do to make myself feel busy and productive while the real work waits to be addressed. Like a pregnant mother readying the house for the monumental job ahead, I find myself taking on useful but unnecessary domestic projects. I develop a nesting instinct, or to use a more masculine metaphor, a revving of the engines, before a surge in productivity. And I've been this way since I was a little kid. (I'll spare readers the theory I entertained as an eight year-old, running races on the playing fields. Suffice it to say that it involved an analogy which included a full bladder and a gas tank.)

Maybe it was bravado with a little too much caffeine to jack up my enthusiasm, but this season's academic anxiety began with an attempt to design some new classes for students who were sorely in need of studio credits. We'd experienced a huge spike in enrollment and were granted the opportunity to add five new courses to the books. As outgoing department head, my friend and colleague Jean called me (as incoming department head) to ask for some input and we traded several ideas. There was a lot of enthusiasm at her dining table that Sunday evening, and I left feeling invigorated by the challenge of getting these new classes off the ground. Most of the new offerings are concept-leaning, since that's where the biggest holes seemed to be. We added five classes in all, and worked hard to get them on the books in time for the students to add them to their schedules.

The class I agreed to author and teach is called "Voice + Vision," and it will explore the symbiosis of writing and image-making. I am really excited about taking a good look at hybrid visual-verbal experiences and I suspected that the students may find the class useful to their way of working, if not their portfolios. It is meant to be a process-oriented class, chiefly concerned with the intertwining paths of verbal and visual thinking. It was my idea and Jean agreed that since illustrators (and artists, particularly in this age of cross-media investigation) are forever swimming in texts and talk, the class could be an important addition.

But theory and practice are different theaters for ideas, and while I still maintain that the notion of a class which synthesizes writing and image-making in various incarnations is a great one, I have my work cut out for me in planning for it and in testing the waters with its inaugural group of students this fall. As intelligent as they are, our students tend to feel the greatest reward when they have mastered material processes or gained new technical skill. They're a bit of a no-nonsense, product-oriented crowd, and I've always struggled in trying to coax from them enjoyment of practice over achievement, of enjoying process without too much attention to finish. So that's the first challenge: simply convincing our students that it may be worth their time to "think about thinking" instead of which glazing technique will render most convincingly the folds of a model's dress, or which Photoshop filter to use when applying a sheen to vampire teeth.

Additionally, I've found that most literature and pedagogical precedents for this sort of material are primarily concerned with critical writing about art, which can certainly be a valuable dimension of the students' exploration, but there's not much out there to serve as paradigms for a class like the one I hope to teach. I am looking for a broader scope of applications and interactions—a survey of the landscape of opportunities.

I'm considering a requirement of either a blog or a journal in which the student might explore the collision of word and image. Hence, my use of this blog to inform myself of the possibilities of the medium. I don't know how well it will work for me (and, subsequently, for them) but I thought I'd give it a shot before asking them to do the same.

Lots of stuff, probably too much stuff, has been running through my head and I like to use writing to sort things out (hey, there's a thought).

More to come, hopefully.

Measuring Depth

2010-07-30T12:34:00.000-07:00

I'm on a break from painting.

I just left my studio,
my head lowered in thought,
a furrowed brow the result of gratifying progress,
not trouble.
I walk past the cosmos
and globe thistle
on the way from the studio to the house
and in an instant I memorize the scene:
the way my body dodges the flowers
which hang over the path,
dead petals compensated by buds,
my shadow on the ground to my right.
I carry my brushes in one hand
and a cleaning basin
full of dirty water
in the other.

When I am immersed in creative thought, I move in one of two ways: quickly, with the sensory efficiency of a dog; or slowly, absently, my spirit trailing behind me. My mind is far ahead.

My senses are alive and exceedingly sharp in the moments after satisfying some impulse to make things. Every sound is crystal clear, all movements feel mechanical, perfect. This is the product of deep concentration and deliberate, intense visual thinking. The elaborate system of thinking and doing is laid bare, humming in tune.

I wish I could map the electricity in my brain during these moments, to get a sense of what's really happening. I'm no Einstein but I do know when my mind is working properly. It's the best feeling in the world.

Black Velvet Painting, ca 1994

2010-07-04T03:00:00.000-07:00

Untitled Painting

2010-07-03T02:44:00.000-07:00

Naumachie.

2010-07-02T05:42:00.001-07:00

Kouros with a Camera.

2010-06-30T22:28:00.000-07:00

A Prayer.

2010-06-30T03:07:00.000-07:00

Sink.

2010-06-29T03:54:00.001-07:00

My dad and I had very few interactions which might be considered educative. They were usually mysteriously begun, inspired by some masculine wisdom he felt he needed to share with me. Among these exchanges was the time he called me into the bathroom after he'd finished shaving. There was no evidence of the tools of shaving—the can of shaving cream has been put away and the razor had been rinsed and returned to the drawer. All that remained was the speckled, gray debris of his whiskers lining the basin like dirt. He told me to look at it and in that moment my father provided a glimpse of the world we would share.

The Rapacious Creditor

2010-06-26T05:03:00.000-07:00

The Prayer of St. Francis

2010-06-16T16:49:00.000-07:00

Gutsy Running.

2010-04-25T03:10:00.000-07:00

The Joy of Long Meetings.

2010-04-21T03:39:00.000-07:00

Absurd visual ideas find their way from the imagination to paper during long conversations. Where I work, there's naturally a lot of doodling going on in meetings.

Astounding arrogance.

2010-04-08T08:02:00.000-07:00

I am posting this on behalf of my friend and colleague Chris Buzelli. Chris' work was not only stolen by a journalist and used without permission, but his objection to the theft was met with astounding arrogance---a slap in the face to artists and designers whose work can be filched and reused without remuneration.

http://www.drawger.com/buzelli/?section=articles&article_id=10164

Finished.

2010-03-15T16:29:00.000-07:00

Adding color.

2010-03-14T17:52:00.000-07:00

I had to change the image somewhat in the digital translation.

What works in black and white presents some limitations when considering color, so I scraped out some of the black areas and digitally added color to enliven the image.

Another.

2010-03-14T04:41:00.000-07:00

Above is the scratchboard base for the illustration about understanding our Afghan enemies by studying our historically adversarial relationship with the former Soviet Union. I later added color digitally. It took me a little too long to work through these.

Finito.

2010-03-07T17:17:00.001-08:00

It could have gone on forever, but I needed to finish up. I notice when I publish anything on this blog, the colors lose a great deal of their saturation, so I'm hiking it up a little here in hopes of matching the original.

I fixed the horizon, which seemed lopsided.

Stage Two.

2010-03-06T12:34:00.001-08:00

Lightening up and making some decisions about color. I like to improvise.

Stage One.

2010-03-04T19:39:00.000-08:00

After many sketches the client and I decided on a refined concept for the cover illustration.

I began the foundation painting, a first layer of darker colors in acrylic over black gesso.

Finalmente. Un disegno sufficiente.

2010-03-02T17:03:00.000-08:00

The sketch which was accepted by the client.

More sketches.

2010-02-13T07:41:00.001-08:00

For an article about learning how to manage Afghanistan by way of our adversarial history with the Soviet Union. The third sketch was selected by the client.

Sketches

2010-02-10T16:01:00.000-08:00

For an article about computational linguistics. Way off on the first few efforts, but I think the latter ideas came close.

iceberg painting

2010-01-06T09:52:00.000-08:00

I spent far too much time on this disaster. The form of the face just doesn't work as well and the icebergs are overworked. Still, the idea intrigues me, and I'll continue to explore it.

Iceberg Painting (too)

2010-01-05T07:55:00.000-08:00

Iceberg Painting.

2010-01-04T17:26:00.000-08:00

I began this series in fall 2009. After grappling with it for some time, the motif began to crystallize.

Iceberg.

2009-10-30T07:53:00.001-07:00

New Freelance.

2009-09-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

From an article about the impending bankruptcy of Twin River, a slot casino in Lincoln Rhode Island. The article made use of some medical imagery (IV's pulse, etc.) hence the "flatline" gag.

From the Cutting Room Floor.

2009-09-16T07:25:00.000-07:00

Now and then I like to post some things that—for one reason or another—didn't make the cut for illustration jobs. Here are a couple of ideas I suggested (and favored, at least in the formal sense) for an article about the transformation of North Carolina from a hot bed of KKK activity to one Obama's swing states in the 2008 election. The editors felt the imagery suggested racism targeting President Obama (not really the thrust of the article), so neither image was used.

More to the iceberg.

2009-09-03T10:33:00.000-07:00

It's probably an act of vain folly to include unfinished work on a blog that is mean as self-promotion, but here goes. I think my process is a testament to the old apothegm, "it ain't over 'til it's over." While things look pretty bad en route it's always heartening to turn a corner and see some promise of resolution on the horizon. I worked last night on one of the paintings from a previous post and while it's nowhere near finished, I think I have begun to understand what needs to be done.

Sono tornato.

2009-09-02T07:17:00.000-07:00

It's been far too long and a great deal has happened since my last entry, but I'm back in the saddle, having moved home to the US. What a great two years in Rome and the rest of Europe. I have many photos from my travels and will post them soon, but meanwhile I'm including here some stirrings of new paintings. This group is about icebergs, the metaphorical partner to volcanoes.

New Freelance.

2009-07-15T22:56:00.000-07:00

A couple of new illustrations for Brandeis University's Catalyst magazine. The first is for an article about research into the locomotive properties of microscopic organisms in developing new nanotechnology. The second concerns the gradual transformation of North Carolina from a KKK hotbed in the 1960's to Obama swing state in 2008.

Got it.

2009-05-25T07:40:00.001-07:00

I finally got my tattoo, courtesy of a former student. She did a fantastic job, in my opinion. Here it is in the aftermath, still a bit gooey and red.

Maroc.

2009-05-25T06:21:00.000-07:00

In late April and early May, I fulfilled a longtime dream to visit Morocco. My parents met there in 1953-54 and through my father's old photos and my mom's colorful stories of "French Morocco" I gained an enthusiasm for its exotic appeal.

My friend John and I spent about 10 days traveling in the western portion of the country. In retrospect I wish we'd explored the mountains as they're great for trekking, but we opted to stay in cities to better appreciate the energy of daily life. We flew from Rome to Barcelona and landed first in Marrakech. Essaouira, Rabat and Tangier followed and each city definitely possessed distinctive character. The whole trip (about 10 days) was relatively inexpensive, and I suppose we each spent about €600, including all meals, lodging and travel. It's very inexpensive to eat in Morocco, with large meals costing the equivalent of about €5-10, but there's not a tremendous variety on the menus. Riads—tranquil respite from the chaos of the streets—are also pretty cheap, and for the most part we stayed in these converted houses with inner courtyards and gardens instead of hotels.

Marrakech was fascinating. It's a pretty smelly place—lots of piss-soaked streets—but the people were extremely warm and hospitable. We stayed at a nice Riad in the Medina, and it was very inexpensive and nicely furnished, with beautifully carved plaster ceilings in the room. The souks and Djemaa el Fna square were teeming with life and it was truly an amazing place to be from dusk until dark. The mounting energy is brought to a crescendo by drums and horns in the early evening and I can only compare it to waiting for a thunderstorm to begin. By the time the sun sets the whole square is absolutely electric, with music and smoke filling the sky and crowds of people sharing meals at huge steel tables spread across the enormous square. Acrobats, snake charmers, belly dancers, the works.

Someone's always pestering you to buy something and they're very eager to take you for a fool when it comes to bargaining, but if you have a sense of humor you'll really enjoy it. It DOES grind you down, however, and I'm glad we started—rather than ended—there. We got lost in the souks at night and that was a bit scary, as people were coming out of some pretty dark and smelly places to hound us for money or "guide" us to where we needed to go. Beauty in Marrakech is in details, rather than in the big picture. Colors and textures and the remarkable plaster carving in architectural moulding, etc. is really impressive. We spent an afternoon at the Bahia Palace—really nice. One evening, we took a great run along the outside of the old city walls, with the sun setting over the olive groves and thousands of swallows careening around us.

Essaouira was a nice switch—lots of whitewashed walls and some great views of the sea. Again, we were in a nice Riad in the Medina. The food was excellent in several places although there's not a lot of variety in most restaurants. The ubiquitous mint tea, tajines and couscous were the fare on almost every menu, along with some simple but unimpressive pizzas. Unfortunately, John got pretty sick with an intestinal infection here and had to get antibiotics from a local doctor, so he was out of commission much of the time. You have to be pretty careful what you eat or drink in these places, (including the coffee, a lukewarm cup of which is what may have dogged John). While John and I consumed almost exactly the same meals, I wasn't affected for some reason. We had a pleasant time watching a soccer game on the very windy beach among a group of local men, walking in the medina and exploring the ramparts which were used as the setting for Orson Welles' Othello. Despite the elegance of our riad the maze of streets around our building smelled a lot like raw sewage, and there was significant poverty right next door—places with no electricity or running water. Still, the people were very gentle and warm and I was impressed by how content they seemed despite their hardship.

Rabat was an elegant city and I was so happy to arrive there after so many years of romantic imagination. It's a much more European place with some of the most impressive Art Deco architecture I have seen—stylized in reductive ways by Islamic motifs. In my parents' day it must have been stunning, as it has exceptionally refined and consistent architecture, resulting in a truly unusual and very nicely laid out urban environment. The best part of Rabat for me was the kasbah, which has a gorgeous Andalusian garden and museum inside, along with some beautiful, cobalt blue dwellings. The museums in Morocco are underfunded, so they don't compare to the contrived grandeur of western Europe, but they're extremely inexpensive and worth a look. I liked Rabat a lot, both for sentimental reasons and as a fascinating city whose cross-cultural history is evidenced in its buildings, food and language.

Tangier was an immense disappointment, and I won't waste too much energy recounting the unpleasant encounters we had there, most of which were tied to our demoralizing stay in a riad run by fundamentalist whackos. It's an extremely dirty city with every other person offering us drugs through toothless grins and urine-steeped pants. We stayed two days there and while the scenery along the shore was visually pleasant, it smelled like shit with the runoff from sewers, which we could see cascading into the ocean as we explored the coast. Despite this cruddy ending, we had a fantastic trip—more educative than relaxing, but everything I expected and more. I have absolutely no regrets and returned home exhausted and still buzzing from the cacophony of a strange land.

Site Specific: Three Projects by Students from Rhode Island School of Design

2009-05-24T10:43:00.001-07:00

On May 23, at an enormous castle outside of Rome, the Centro Internazionale per l'Arte Contemporanea hosted an exhibit of site-specific installations by RISD students.

Artist Bruna Esposito led a site-specific workshop resulting in three student-defined projects from the European Honors Program of Rhode Island School of Design. Each project is concerned with the rich historical, formal, and sensory context of Castello Colonna. Coordinated by CIAC Director Claudio Libero Pisano, as well as Ezio Genovesi and myself from RISD, the three projects respond in earnest to the environment of the castle—from Dorion Barill's animated migration of the chapel frescoes to the walls of another gallery; to Marlene Frontera and Grant Conboy's infusion of intimate domesticity in the grand setting of the castle and grounds; to another group's impulse to conjoin interior and exterior spaces, harnessing the energy of the light and wind outside toward delicate aesthetic expression in an upper gallery. The CIAC exhibition marks an important transition from the scholastic to the professional context for its participants.

It was a beautiful night, and the whole EHP family, as well as many visitors from Rome and environs, made the trip to Genazzano to celebrate the good work done by our students. What an opportunity for our students—working in such an inspiring setting, with an important contemporary artist. Many thanks to Bruna, Claudio and Ezio for their support.

Vernissage.

2009-05-19T21:45:00.000-07:00

The opening for my show of paintings was quiet, low-key. The students made some wonderful food, and some local guests rounded out the evening. Afterwards, a couple of friends took me to dinner. I'm happy to have pulled it together with a couple of weeks to spare as this means I have some time to pull the canvases off the stretchers and pack them up for the trip home in July.

Resurfacing

2009-05-10T12:43:00.000-07:00

I've received messages from people asking about updates. My apologies. I've been very busy lately with both travel and finishing up with teaching and work for my show. My journey in italy is coming to a close and I suppose I'm getting a little distracted.

In a future post I'll try to include some photographs from a recent trip to North Africa. My parents lived and met in Rabat, Morocco, in 1952-53. That, coupled with my longstanding, earnest desire to see a way of life quite distinct from my own, stimulated my thinking about a trip many years ago. I first made plans in 1984, but had to ditch them when I learned how expensive the trip would be.

So I went to Marrakech, Essaouira, Rabat and Tangier for 10 days. While I encountered some bleak modes of existence, it was pretty much as I expected: extreme poverty in some places, countered by unparalleled beauty in details and some of the most pleasant people on earth, even when they were trying to talk you out of 1000 dirhams. It was more educative than relaxing, that's for sure, but I got a good tan from wandering outside everyday for hours on end.

Anyway, I finally made it there, with the linguistic help and warm companionship of my friend John.

Eight down. One to go.

2009-04-17T09:10:00.001-07:00

Jotted on a tram.

2009-03-18T01:32:00.000-07:00

I was on the way to have some tests done related to my eye (keratitis since January 17—such a drag not being able to see clearly) and was suddenly struck by the urge to write this about the paintings I have been doing. It's not very well-written but I'm glad it's beginning to crystallize.

The paintings are about me. Rather, they are a denial of the artificial, the mistaken identity with which I try to reconcile myself every day. Everything about them—the superficial scumbling of paint, their perspectival flatness countered by illusions of volume; the subject matter of volcanoes, which are by nature demonstrative, referential to some profound subterranean energy, with festering, dangerous tension; and finally, the act of painting itself: reiterative, contemplative, a mantra—all of these things are attempting to permeate the hard crust of "identity."

Progress.

2009-03-08T22:18:00.000-07:00

Things are in a happy state of flux so instead of uploading pictures of new paintings I am presenting evidence of my latest object of desire: the isle of Stromboli, a bump in the sea just above Sicily; little more than a village at the foot of an active volcano. I want to be in Stromboli my last week in Italy. It makes perfect sense that I should end up there, after I move out of the apartment and before I board the flight to the US after two wonderful years here. What a way to quietly reflect on the work I have done and all the blessings that have come my way.

I put off painting yesterday for some easy things: letter writing among them. This marks the beginning of the most challenging phase of this series of paintings. I am working toward completing nine in total, each 100 x 100 cm. I've taken six to an acceptable level of finish and I began the seventh yesterday. But the longer I paint in a series, the more likely I am to discover new forms—new visual language—thus calling into question everything I have done in the earlier work. While I'm happy to say that each new painting seems an improvement in some way on the last, this also compels me to reconsider what I have done earlier. It's both exciting and maddening! Progress is welcome, but every new discovery makes its predecessors appear somehow inferior. Today I found a way to represent something—some smoke and lava, which I had painted many times before in a different way—that really excited me. But suddenly this new bit of progress made the new painting feel unrelated in some way to the others in the group.

Now the images I posted earlier are things of the past—they no longer exist. Yesterday, after arriving at this new vocabulary of form, I painted over parts of a few of the earlier paintings in order to take care of some things that have been bothering me: the balance of color and contrast; some compositional issues. I knew this would happen, and I'm not the least bit upset by it, but it does make me more conscious of the time I have remaining to finish them. It's the way it always goes. It's a balancing act, trying to keep myself from completely destroying things in this search for some cohesiveness with the series.

I have a busy week ahead, with meetings with students, a lecture and crits by a guest artist, and my trip to Madrid Thursday through Sunday. I think the best thing to do will be to work extremely hard every day and then leave things alone for the weekend, allowing the machinations, the successes and failures to steep a bit without action. I'm giddy about visiting the Museums in Madrid: work I have waited my entire adult life to see. What a gift.

Two New Paintings and Some Changes.

2009-03-04T06:42:00.001-08:00

A couple of new things, along with the minimal revisions to older paintings. These continue to evolve and aren't finished. I think once I have nine brought to a cohesive level of finish as a group I will begin refining them.

Better late than never.

2009-02-28T11:16:00.000-08:00

I knitted a scarf and it feels incredible.

The Cenci.

2009-02-20T12:56:00.000-08:00

I've long wanted to visit the sad town of Petrella Salto in Abruzzo, as it's the site of an infamous murder with an association to our program in Rome. Since 1960 we've been housed in Palazzetto Cenci near the Jewish Ghetto, a Renaissance building built by the wealthy Cenci family.

Perched on a wicked, rocky hill overlooking the small town is "La Rocca Cenci," the skeletal remains of a castle tower. It was here that Francesco Cenci met his gruesome demise in 1598. His family first poisoned him then bludgeoned him to death, and threw his body over a balcony, where it toppled to the foot of the hill. The crime was discovered and the family members were tortured into confession. Among them was his 21-year-old daughter Beatrice, the most tragic of the cast of characters since she had been brutalized by her father and—along with her step-mother—held captive in the castle. "I'm taking you here to die," he told them.

Francesco was a real creep and many believed he deserved his fate, having terrorized Rome and his own family for years. Yet the subsequent trial and execution of Beatrice, her step-mother and her brother became one of the most controversial in history as the papacy wanted to make an example of the nobles to send a message to all: no one is above the law. Their executions were attended by thousands, and it's often said that Caravaggio's reiteration of decapitations was probably stimulated by his inevitable presence there.

Reminders of Beatrice are everywhere in Rome. I often find myself coincidentally in places which define her geography—the jailhouse in which she spent her last days, the spot at the end of Ponte St. Angelo where she was beheaded, the church on the Gianicolo where she is buried but which seems to contain no marker. There's a decent reproduction of Guido Reni's haunting portrait of her hanging in our main lecture hall: a tragic plea for clemency which has endured for hundreds of years. Students say they can sense her presence in our building with the dimming of the day. Like Reni, Hawthorne, Shelley and many others I'm moved by Beatrice as an emblem of soured justice. Her delicate beauty adds to this.

In the pictures above you can see Guido Reni's portrait of Beatrice Cenci (now in Palazzo Barberini) along with an awkward, depressing mural which welcomes you to Petrella Salto. In the third picture, La Rocca Cenci looms over the lonesome little town and then there's me, seated in front of the ruins on a rainy Saturday in the dead of winter.

One of the coolest guys in Rome.

2009-02-17T23:53:00.000-08:00

This accordionist is on Ponte Sisto just about every weekend morning, facing the sun, his body heaving to and fro to the music. He's completely rapt with pleasure while playing. I was finally able to get a photo of him.

The series so far.

2009-02-14T22:48:00.000-08:00

Frustrazione.

2009-02-09T23:24:00.000-08:00

Back in the studio and hitting the usual "ruin it" phase of painting. Just take a look at the dour expression on my face.

Notes on Greece and Istanbul.

2009-01-05T00:43:00.000-08:00

I am including below a note to a friend back in the States. It features some thoughts on my recent travels to Greece and Turkey.

* * *

Davide, caro amico!

Grace arrived home last night and among the treasures she brought from the States was your thoughtful Christmas card. Thanks so much. She delivered the goods because I opted out of a trip home this Christmas, deciding instead to use the time for some much needed exploration of other places in Europe. I headed to Greece and Istanbul for 11 days and, while the weather could have been better (especially in Crete, where the temps are sometimes in the upper 60's in winter) I had a fantastic time. A friend from Rome came with me and we shared a lot of laughs, along with too much coffee and honey-drenched, Turkish pastries. I've regained a bit of my 46 year-old paunch after months of gym and running had trimmed it to respectable proportions. Alas, it's back to the square one and as I write this note I am readying myself for an hour at the gym, prepared for the humbling realization that I have a bit of work to do.

Being in a fundamentally Muslim country for the holidays was intriguing, and we explored Istanbul at dawn on Christmas day, following the somewhat haunting call to prayer as the sun rose over the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia. We also subjected ourselves to the joys of a hamam—a 15th century Turkish bath in which I was lathered up beyond recognition, had every joint, tendon and muscle brutalized and was tossed around like a slippery fish on a slab of marble by a half-naked, 250-lb Turk, whose only words to me were "you leave tip." I'll never forget this experience.

Turkish and Greek food was fantastic, primarily because of its pronounced difference from Roman fare. Every once in a while I go in mad search of a hamburger, which usually costs me the equivalent of about 18 US dollars. I've never been much of a foodie anyway, and while I enjoy stracceti e rucola, saltimbocca alla romana, and spaghetti alla carbonara as much as the next guy, the reiteration of these dishes on every menu in the city has me wanting a little variety.

Back to the trip. We managed to take an inspiring hike in the mountains outside of Chania in Crete, accompanied by dozens of goats, whose distant, melancholy bells defined the space around us. We came upon an ancient chapel built into the side of a hill and found a dead goat inside, along with makeshift preparations for offerings such as oil, candles and incense. We visited Knossos (what an insulting "reconstruction!") and I was thrilled to make the journey to the Dikteon cave, the supposed birthplace of Zeus. We were the only visitors there, and the constant rain made the experience even more chthonian as we were many meters inside the earth, surrounded by the sound of dripping water and light reflected in dark pools and on the surface of organic rock formations. We spent several days in Athens as well, and I really enjoyed placing King Aegeus on the steps of the Temple of Athena Nike on the Acropolis, scanning the horizon for the white sails of Theseus' ship and finally ending his own life over a tragic misconception. The Archaeological Museum was great as well, and I saw many beautiful sculptures that I'd studied for years in books. In Athens we stumbled on a confrontation between riot police and protesters, who tipped over a police car in the middle of the street. We missed the peak of violence in the city, but I was sternly advised by a young woman to delete the pictures I took of her companion, who had spray-painted anarchistic graffiti on a wall.

I haven't done a tremendous amount of traveling while here but now that the end is in sight I am considering a couple of essential trips centered on museums. Berlin and Madrid are the most important to me, given the art holdings, but I'm also interested in Prague, Vienna, Cairo and Morocco—the latter because it's where my parents met in 1954 or so. Who knows if I will be able to do it all, but I need to try my best. I am not sure when I will have the opportunity to be so close to this stuff again, so I think I should stay on a while after the job is done, perhaps living with a friend for a couple of extra months in order to see a few more of the world's great places.

I'm on sabbatical next year and I've begun a series of paintings here, trying to take advantage of my huge studio and the wealth of precedents surrounding me. I have scheduled a show of new paintings at the Cenci in May, so I have my work cut out for me, although I am off to a good start, I think. I was on a roll but the job sometimes consumes a lot of my attention and this means putting my painting on a back burner for a few weeks at a time.

And you? How are things? How is Lois? And Marjorie? Who will be department head next year? How is the search for a new colleague going? I am privy to vague stirrings from Jon and Melissa now and then, but wonder how their independent lives are taking shape. I think often of you and I have fallen out of touch with everyone—Susan, Jean, Jon, Mel, Nick, Fritz.

I've been up for hours now and while I could write much more I should prepare myself for the pains of the gym, surrounded by cruel mirrors and tiresome disco music at 8:30 am, Roman time. Later in the day, I'll head out for a trot with my friend Johnny who, at 32, runs circles around me. Another cup of coffee and a self-administered pep talk and I'm ready for action.

Thanks again for the card, dear friend. Please fill me in on life back home.

All the best,
R

Icons

2008-12-14T23:37:00.000-08:00

I was enlisted last week for a quick freelance job, which I did over the weekend. I havea busy week ahead so I didn't have a lot of time to fuss over them. Some I like (Poe) some I don't (the quaint sunflower and tomato, meant to represent a farmer's market in Providence).

New progress.

2008-12-13T03:34:00.001-08:00

I think I am finally able to visually articulate my intentions. This is a new painting, about 100 x 100 cm (3.28 feet square). It's unfinished but I am glad to see that I've been able to do what I want to do after a lot of failure.

Sock it to me.

2008-11-22T11:27:00.000-08:00

A new effort here. My intentions aren't really clear, and—as I told Tomaz today—it's in the "ruination phase." I murmured to myself on the way home this afternoon that every act of creation includes destruction and while this idea is exciting it's also frustrating. Every painting starts from zero it seems, and it feels like an entirely new set of variables. This is an intriguing, eternal challenge, but sometimes I wish it would just get a little easier.

I had an interesting talk today with Ezio about the whole group of things. He was reassuring, and volunteered some enthusiasm. I trust his word—having worked with him for a while I don't think he's one to blow smoke. That gave me a little boost.

I had been telling Tomaz that I am really feeling a little panicked about how there's no common language in anything. I am describing volcanoes, but never the same way twice. I am describing boats, but with a different vocabulary every time. I wrote this to Tomaz today:

I talked with you a bit about the need for some consistency in my work. I don't regret having explored different visual languages and I'm not a big proponent of style, but I think I am so "all over the map" right now that it's a bit of a problem. Take the three paintings of boats, for example. The fact that I never use the same "vocabulary" to describe the boat seems to show a lack of certainty or dedication to an idea. It's just skimming the surface:

http://robertbrinkerhoff.blogspot.com/2008/08/running-4.html

See what I mean?

Same with the volcanoes. It's obvious that I am still in an investigative mode, still trying to figure out how to show something, how to say something. And if a person doesn't have fluency of "language" how can he artfully form thoughts without drawing so much attention to the flair of the language? If the voice is changing so often, I think the attention will be on the voice, rather than the message.

I mentioned to you that this is a persistent problem of mine: I seem to either be on a quest for the best voice/language, and unable to formulate a body of work which ultimately says something in its consistency.

An analogy: imagine reading a book by a writer who is telling a story but who constantly changes voice or even language. That's what I think I am doing Tomaz. At the same time I am loathe to commit to any sort of consistency which would indicate an attention to "style" over substance—which would seem to read as a convenient "bag of tricks." This is the shit I need to sort out. It's what most painters refer to as "fetishizing."

Un'altro cambio, ancora.

2008-11-10T03:16:00.000-08:00

A couple minor changes in response to Elizabeth's comments about the source of the eruption.

Cambio.

2008-11-04T08:21:00.000-08:00

I changed things drastically. I just couldn't stomach the way it was turning out. Here's the reworked canvas and a detail—some new iconography that interests me.

Grazie miei amici.

2008-10-29T00:07:00.000-07:00

Haven't yet addressed the issues Elizabeth has mentioned below (all good points, thanks) but I think I have begun to work on the hierarchy, per Rich's gracious and intelligent suggestions.

Speak up.

2008-10-22T03:49:00.000-07:00

These images always reproduce with such lackluster surface here, no matter how much I try to compensate by hiking up contrast etc. Here's the latest phase of a new painting, and I'm eager to hear opinions. I am trying to limit the palette significantly because I feel like there's a disconnect in previous efforts between the nature of what I'm showing and the color relationships embedded in the imagery. So this one is a volcano, and the volcano and everything around it is affected by the essence of volcanoes—heat.

These are paintings of volcanoes. On two occasions, people have failed to see the subject matter and this is a little unnerving.

Someone recently remarked that my work is somewhat dark. I think that in some ways that's a welcome description, since I have been struggling to grow more accepting of my propensity for cartoonish form and a little darkness may compensate for what could tip the scales toward frivolity. I don't know if it's my relatively primitive method of painting, the manifestation of impulses that shouldn't be denied or something else, but I feel like I need some clarity about the way I am painting.

Something new.

2008-10-17T10:27:00.001-07:00

This is a little larger, about 3.25 feet square.

I went to the Jean-Michel Basquiat show today. His impulsive use of materials and incredible gift for form and design was really inspiring. I agonize over trivial details, get myself into fastidious snits both conceptually and materially.

Finito.

2008-10-12T09:43:00.000-07:00

I'm calling this done. For now. The contrast looks very dull, and it's a bit more vibrant than indicated in this image but I am tired of fussing with it.

Sono tornato.

2008-10-01T23:03:00.000-07:00

Ezio and I had a great dinner last night at the American Academy. Those folks consistently deliver: good company—smart, earnest people with fascinating intentions.

Next week promises a return to the studio—no two ways about it. The freelance work and tour necessitated some delays and then we arrived home with a seriously injured student, who fractured her vertebra with a 35 ft jump from a cliff into the water in Riomaggiore. She's hospitalized and will have surgery this weekend.

We're almost halfway through the semester. I am sad to think about leaving Rome behind.

A few photos from the tour:

Blow-by-blow, below.

2008-09-26T23:40:00.001-07:00

Sketches, process and finish for an article about the Governor's falling popularity. At one point the author asserts that he's a bit of a cowboy, but without much success, hence the wild west imagery in a few.

Eight places. Wait, make that ten.

2008-09-08T07:30:00.000-07:00

Gym

1:10

Treadmill, free weights.

Someone asked me recently to identify eight favorite meditative spots in Rome, places which might facilitate focused introspection and rejuvenation. I have to confess that I'm not really the silently meditative kind and I have a little trouble keeping still. While I regret this aspect of my personality, it comes with the territory, so there you go.

This doesn't mean I'm not a thoughtful person who seeks and finds inspiration in quiet reflection. I like to write when it's time to sort out my thoughts; and rather than finding answers in motionlessness, I tend to use the rhythm of walking, running or the systematic making of things to figure things out. I get a lot from physical experience. I guess I prefer a significant amount of sensory input when questioning things.

I confess that while I had hoped to collect a ton of photos myself for this travelogue, I haven't had time to shoot everything listed. So I'm filching some of these pictures from the internet and hoping they'll do justice to the promise of these places. I shot Piazza Mattei and the bottles in the river. The rest are the products of my thievery.

Eight places isn't a lot in a city as wonderful as Rome so I'm upping the ante to ten, in no particular order.

• The Pantheon.
It's a stone's throw from the apartment, and the Pantheon at any time of day is a great kick in the ass when you're feeling put upon in life. It's a truly phenomenal testament to the genius and resourcefulness of mankind and I challenge anyone to say "I can't" when considering this achievement. I sometimes bring a cup of coffee to the piazza and sit on the steps of the fountain in the morning, facing the temple. It's especially beautiful on a cool, cloudy morning in winter, when the gray color of the stone, the pavement, the sky—everything in sight—elide harmonically. At night, when the piazza is filled with exhausted tourists, the lights are beautiful.

• Fontana dell'Acqua Paola.
While everyone else is clamoring for photo opportunities at the Trevi Fountain in the center, the Fontana dell'Acqua Paola on the Gianicolo offers a stunning vista of the city with a grand backdrop of gushing water, lit masterfully at night and cooling the atmosphere while the sun is high in the sky. Go at dusk and plan to spend a little time like the two-faced god Janus (after which Gianicolo was named), gazing out on the domes below and turning 180 degrees to watch the cascade. It's a bit of a walk (about a mile) from my place, but it's well worth the effort.

• Piazza Mattei.
Just outside the Jewish Ghetto (where you can observe some great neighborhood dynamics among young and old), this spot has two great things going for it: the Tartaruga fountain with four youths languidly reaching for Bernini-crafted turtles and a little place called Bartaruga. If you have the money to spend, get a glass of wine and sit outside. It helps if you have company (at least to split the bill). A couple of glasses of wine cost about €14, which is pretty high in my opinion, but you're paying for the atmosphere. The interior of the bar is pretty kitsch, but very comfortable with an opportunity for intimate conversation and the people inside are very nice.

• San Luigi dei Francesi.
Near the Pantheon (with your back to the Pantheon turn left at the far end of the piazza) San Luigi dei Francesi is the parish of the French Catholic community in Rome. The exterior could use a good cleaning, but perfection awaits inside. The last chapel on the left holds three large Caravaggio paintings chronicling the story of St. Matthew. It's always crowded but well worth the visit.

• Santa Maria del Popolo.
In Piazza Del Popolo another pair of Caravaggio's—The Crucifixion of St. Peter and the Conversion of Paul—are free for the looking at Santa Maria del Popolo. It's not always easy to sit in silent meditation of these paintings. A good long look, however, followed by some quiet reflection in the church, is very rewarding.

• The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, Santa Maria della Vittoria.
This is far enough away from the center to be a little less populated by tourists, so I think it's worth the hike. And unlike the Caravaggio paintings you can sit to face the sculpture head on.

• Temple of Aesculapius, Villa Borghese.
This is a 19th century folly, not a true temple, but it's a nice place to sit and read, think, write or draw. The park is also a great place to run and the Galleria Borghese holds a lot of fantastic art.

• A Walk Across the Bridges
Begin in the morning or as the sun begins to fade with Ponte Fabricio, the oldest bridge in Rome. Make your way to the Trastevere side after crossing Isola Tiberina (the island). Turning right on the other side, you'll reach Ponte Garibaldi which you'll cross back to the other side. It's worth a stop on Ponte Garibaldi to behold the mesmerizing dance of the recyclables in the falls below the bridge. Don't miss this strangely beautiful phenomenon. Repeat this zig-zag pattern until you reach Pont Saint Angelo, with Bernini's angels flanking each side, and then head back. Some mornings around 9:00, on Ponte Sisto, you'll find the most emotionally demonstrative accordionist in the city. He's a little Asian man who faces the sun with his eyes closed, his entire body swaying with the music as he plays. And he can really play with sincerity and emotion, unlike a lot of the clowns who make money in the center.

• The Protestant Cemetery
Behind the old city wall and spilling out of the base of the Pyramid is the Protestant Cemetery, the burial place of non-Catholics and foreigners in Rome. Shelley and Keats are buried here and it's a remarkably peaceful place whose walls keep the din of the city at bay. There are plenty of places to sit and you can wander for a couple of hours from row to row in search of interesting lives which have passed through Rome over the centuries.

• The Palatine Hill at Sunset.
From the top of the hill at Piazzale Ugo di Malfa (the crest of the long hill running along the south side of Circo Massimo), take in the ruins of the Palatine on the other side of the field. At sunset, the warm bricks and austere arches and towers are really beautiful, and you can really gain a sense of the privileged vantage point of the aristocracy in Ancient Rome, when chariots raced in the Circo below.

• Bonus Spot.
If all else fails light the torches on our lower terrace at night and sit at the table. Looming above, you'll see the remains of the great round entrance hall of the Baths of Agrippa, constructed in about 19 BC. The past, and Rome has plenty of it, gives pause to present concerns.

More.

2008-09-07T10:04:00.001-07:00

See earlier entries for a history of this picture, which is still in progress.

Not sure if it's such a great idea to show things every step of the way. Perhaps it simply confuses people and I suppose I risk having opinions offered before I'm finished.