Leo's toy

Yesterday was bitter cold but the sun was out and the sky was an intense blue. This time of the year it is usually cloudy, so I hadn’t raised my expectations to see the total lunar eclipse. But after a crimson sunset I was hopeful.
Sure enough, around 9 PM a little bite appeared on the moon. In the clear cold night air (9 degrees), the light of the moon was so intense that it was hard on the eyes to look directly at it. And that made the nearby stars difficult to see.
But as the eclipse reached totality the moon appeared as a glowing red-orange orb. It was easier to see details and get a sense of the moon as a sphere, rather than a bright source of light.
Suddenly the surrounding stars were much more apparent, and I recognized Leo. The moon was right at his feet, as if the giant cat was playing with a ball. And next to the moon was Saturn shining bright yellow.
The beauty of the night sky takes my breath away (as did the bitter cold). The phases of the moon dance in my dreams, and I am bringing their images to my art.

Light in Winter

Ithaca has a fabulous winter festival called Light in Winter. It is all about combining science, music, and art, and exploring the synergy when they interact. I find this very exciting because I have spent my life going between science and art, searching for ways to bring together these passions.
The first Gallery Night of the new year coincides with the festival. I have a piece accepted for the invitational show in the Clinton House Artspace. The theme of the show is “identity”. The work is shown above, and is titled “Helliconia Nights (self with flower)”.
This piece originally started out as a self-portrait (since ‘self’ is one of the ultimate forms of identity). However, I noticed that when I shrank my image, made it fainter, and moved it to the side, the piece seemed to improve. This process continued until I am barely visible as a tiny (but recognizable) dot.
The basic theme remains, with images of science and nature interwoven to reflect my interests. And, of course, art.

Solstice sunset

OK, so I'm a bit of a druid. About 20 years ago I made a sculpture and placed it so that the sun sets right above it on the winter solstice (from my kitchen window). And it does it every year! I monitor the southward progress of the sun as the days get shorter. And finally, on this night it reaches its most southern point and begins its slow trek north. That means the days are getting longer (though it will be a few weeks before it is noticeable.)
Sometimes the sky is cloudy on the solstice sunset, but I have always been able to see it within a day or two, and the sun is very close to the position over my sculpture. And I always toast the sunset with a wee dram of bourbon or single-malt.
Today was bright and sunny, so I was looking forward to the sunset. But alas, the sky clouded up an hour before sunset. I had pretty much given up on having my celebratory drink, but around 4:30 a sliver of clear sky appeared on the horizon. Immediately after, a brilliant red gold orb dropped under the clouds and hung for a moment over my sculpture before setting. I took that as a good omen as I enjoyed my bourbon.

Gallery Night

Friday night is "Gallery Night" in Ithaca. All of the galleries in Ithaca have their openings on the same night. This happens four times a year, but the December event is the most festive. Besides walking around from gallery to gallery there is an Ice Sculpture show on the Ithaca Commons. And all the holiday lights are lit as well.
Last year was my first one-man show “Rorshach-Mandalla”. This year I have a piece that was accepted in the State of the Art Gallery Regional Juried Competition. The piece is titled “Wind Dancer” and is shown above.
I am looking forward to festivities.

The Crows of November

For some reason I always notice the crows in November. Of course, they are around all year, but somehow their gatherings are more noticeable in the bleak barren trees of late fall. Maybe they are more obvious, reeling and cawing against the gray sky. Or maybe their chattering and varied vocalizations are easier to hear without the muting of dense tree leaves.
I have always been fascinated by crows. They are remarkably intelligent and their social behaviors are complex and often human-like. Thus they play a significant role in the culture and mythology of peoples worldwide, from bearers of omens to minor gods.
Recently, ravens have moved onto our hilltop as well. These are much larger and more impressive than the crows. They are also very intelligent, maybe more so than the crows,(and hold a higher status in cultural myth.) It will be interesting to observe how the ravens and crows get along in the coming years.
A few weeks ago I was walking along the road when I heard a loud beating swoosh coming up from behind me. I cringed, as if a giant pterodactyl was about to carry me off. But looking up, I saw two huge ravens flying a few feet overhead. The pair was wingtip-to-wingtip as they flew purposefully down the road. It was quite a sight to see, and well worth the start.
I have been sketching and photographing crows and ravens, and expect them to appear on future works.

Fuzzball and the Night Sky

I have always been fascinated with the night sky. On the hilltop, a clear night brings out a vast sparkling sky of countless stars. Long ago I memorized the major constellations and the brightest stars. I have followed the seasons in the sky for many years and find their familiar patterns give a sense of comfort and order. But occasionally something interesting happens and disturbs that order.
The past few weeks a comet has appeared and is currently in the constellation Perseus. The comet is named Holmes. It unexpectedly brightened significantly and can now be seen with the naked eye. It looks like a glowing fuzzball rather than the typical comet. This is because the tail is pointing directly away from the earth and can’t be seen behind the comet.
People used to think that comets were omens that brought great disruptions and change. When that was pointed out to an astronomer during a radio interview, he responded with tongue-in–cheek cynicism, “it’s just an icy dirtball and doesn’t care about us.” Still, it is an object of awe and inspiration.
And as an inspiration, I have included the night sky in several of my works, including my most recent. I hope to post that on my website soon.

Autumn already

O.K. So it’s not like I didn’t know it’s Fall. The equinox came and went. Then there was an amazing full Harvest moon rise over the hills of southern California (immediately after witnessing my first green flash on a Pacific sunset.) Part of a trip to the West Coast for a wonderful family wedding on the Queen Mary. And fun touristy things such as going to the amazing Getty Center, and exploring the L.A. basin’s beach towns.
I’ve been away from my blog for a while. And away from my art. And it wasn’t just the travel. There was a long period of unusually warm weather (including several record breaking days of August-like heat. Maybe I just convinced myself that it was still summer.
But a couple of days ago I was walking through the woods, listening to the distant rumble of thunder. Suddenly a strong wind came up and the sky turned a dark black-purple. As the treetops thrashed back and forth I decided to scamper back up the hill. I thought I was going to get soaked, but what sounded like rain turned out to be millions of small yellow leaves falling. The air was instantly filled with swirling color that was dazzling and disorienting at the same time. But no time to linger. Bright flashes and the loud crack-boom of nearby lightning spurred me on. I barely reached the shelter of my porch as the first drops began to hit.
I spent quite a while sitting on my porch watching the heavy rains falling and illuminated by frequent lightning. Thunderstorm watching is one of my favorite pastimes (as long as it’s from a dry, cozy vantage). The sticky afternoon heat was quickly swept away by the cool air. The quality and texture of the rain was not the heavy drops of a summer storm, but the dense fine drops of a fall rain that seemed to saturate the air. I knew that it was finally autumn with the arrival of this cold front.
Sure enough, this week will average 30-40 degrees cooler than last. Flocks of geese have been heading south. The woods are filled with russets, crimsons and gold. A time of change, and I need to do so myself, seeking my muse.