Back in 2001, we were planning H’s 40th birthday party at the North House Folk School in Grand Marais. We invited everyone. Twelve years earlier, we’d had a small wedding ceremony, with 13 people in attendance. In the years that followed, H would sometimes say that we should renew our vows in front of our friends. Her singing group would headline the show. They asked if I would do a short Flash Meridian performance. She probably thought I would do The Universe again, but I came up with a surprise. I hired an officiant. Flash Meridian was announced, and I called H back to the stage. I got down on one knee and asked if she would marry me again. She had no idea I was going to do this. I’d even had rings made. She replied, “In a minute”, which I took as a yes.

I had no clue that I had put her on the spot. Her boyfriend was in the audience. Another guy who I knew liked her, walked out at this point. A couple of weeks later, she told me she wanted a divorce, because there was someone else she wanted to marry. They got engaged as soon as our divorce was final. If she’d just told me, I would have been ok. I would have performed The Universe again. I found the VHS tape last night. I was so oblivious that evening, and now it’s cringeworthy. Still, I’m happy. Happy that I had a surprise idea, and pulled it off rather beautifully.

This optimistic blurb appeared in Lake Superior Magazine.

I see how the pencil lines in my painting tuck under a brushstroke here, and glide over a patch of paint over there.  The lines I scratch into the wet paint with the other end of my brush mimic the other, positive lines in the composition.  Those scratches uncover some of the hidden layer that lurks beneath pigment that was applied later.  The fresh brushstroke lies right on the surface, not yet realizing that it is a part of the whole.  It thought it was a complete story unto itself until I cut through it.  I reveal the foundation.  What I don’t tell it, is the fact that another layer of paint might come along, obfuscating it completely.

The human race has gone through many changes over the millennia, and with time, I think our basic needs have changed. We still need to eat healthy food and get exercise, but we no longer need to crouch behind rocks or snowbanks to kill a mammoth or musk ox in order to eat. I bet a lot of people don’t really know where their food comes from, other than the grocery store. 

The creativity it took to slay a buffalo has shifted to purchasing a vehicle and navigating crowded highways to and from a job that sustains us. 

I wish I could tell you what our ancient ancestors thought about while chipping tools from stone or drawing images on rock faces, in or out of a cave. 

I think they were planning not only menus, but also the hunt. 

Nowadays, we can lay on our couch and order ready-to-eat food. 

Similarly, our artistic needs seem to have changed. 

It’s born into us, handed down from those who beseeched the animal spirits or the great overseer for guidance and a successful hunt. 

Now, we can depict whatever we want to. We can share spiritual lessons, or we can make random marks in an arrangement that appeals to us. 

You have to learn it, or open yourself to it, but I do believe creativity is part of human nature. It’s like a seed that needs time to germinate and grow. Our modern world doesn’t always allow for that dedication. 

Art was where I felt comfortable from an early age. It never felt risky. I was supported and encouraged along the way. I looked at things and tried to replicate what I saw. Then one day I realized that I don’t have to copy objects in their natural environments. I could mix and match the forms to say something different. Something from my perspective. Something that no longer depicted the world around me verbatim. 

I draw and paint based on my experience. If I do research in order to complete an artwork, I’m simply bringing new information into my experience. From that gleaned information, I decide what is important to me, and to the piece I am creating. I edit the details in order to say what I want to say.  I leave things out. I might add something to the composition. You would do it differently. Every artist would bring something different to the image. How silly to think one artist did it wrong because someone else’s view matched more closely with what you had envisioned. 

If I come up with a response that you wouldn’t have considered, then I can be your teacher, and you can be mine. 

I love finding the paintings within the painting. My brother is really good at pointing these out.