Studio in the City (oil and charcoal pencil on wood)
Saturday, December 26, 2009
New Paintings - the Nudes and Cheeseburger Series
Beer and a Burger (oil on wood)
Studio in the City (oil and charcoal pencil on wood)
Studio in the City (oil and charcoal pencil on wood)
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
First Friday, November 6, 2009
Standing with "The Canvas" and "The Writer," at the Upstate Artists Guild show "Fresh Produce."
Last night, I had the honoor of seeing two of my favorite paintings from this summer/autumn season hang at the UAG Show. Both are special in their own right. Both taken from photos shared with me and expanded upon to articulate a vision.
It has been a good season for painting, but now it is time to take a short break. To rest up, make some notes, think of future projects but not paint anything new. I still have a few pieces to complete, and they will be done. I still need to implement the armchair series.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
New Painting and Poem: The Writer
The Writer (2009, oil on wood)
The Writer
In the provocative black and white photo
You express mystery and passion and vulnerability
In the painting with shades of blue
You face the canvas and smile for me.
Surrounded by novels and histories and poetry
Moleskines and legal notebooks all over the bed
Black-rimmed reading glasses in your hand
Visions and nightmares gestating in your head.
And my god your body what a figure, gorgeous and free
To go with such an expansive mind and beautiful heart
I cannot touch you in the here and now, so I paint.
For our new and intense friendship, a fitting start.
© fprm, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
New Poem: The Bookstore
The Bookstore
The bell on the opened door announces my presence,
and the smells of old paper and freshly brewed French Roast
confirm that I am home.
Quietly but excitedly, I begin to explore the stacks,
seeking prose poems by Baudelaire, biographies of Gauguin, and
Gibbon's epic history of Rome.
And you sit silently behind your desk,
black-rimmed glasses on your head, intense and alone,
pondering your next tome.
You peacefully acknowledge my silent passion,
with slight smile and raised eyebrow, and
confirm: I am home.
© fprm, 2009
10-9-2009
The bell on the opened door announces my presence,
and the smells of old paper and freshly brewed French Roast
confirm that I am home.
Quietly but excitedly, I begin to explore the stacks,
seeking prose poems by Baudelaire, biographies of Gauguin, and
Gibbon's epic history of Rome.
And you sit silently behind your desk,
black-rimmed glasses on your head, intense and alone,
pondering your next tome.
You peacefully acknowledge my silent passion,
with slight smile and raised eyebrow, and
confirm: I am home.
© fprm, 2009
10-9-2009
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