Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Old Souls Do Live On



There are several connection points we share with one another and none so bitter as the family tragedy. The loss of a loved one - be it through natural causes, from a long battle with cancer or the unexpected - is overwhelming on your own and yet somehow we find the strength to lean on our own friends and family and to share our grief. And it’s a time when we hear some truly amazing stories. And this one, told to me this morning, seemed ripe for the retelling...

Three weeks ago a man who works in my building traveled to see his 72 year old father who was losing his battle with cancer. On that trip his father was in pain but still able to walk, talk and understand who was in the room and the nurses seemed to think he had time. Then he received a call that he should return as soon as possible as his father’s health had suddenly turned for the worse and “this could be it.” After juggling time off and finding the proper baby sitter for his young daughter he and his wife left for the hour and a half drive to the airport. They decided to stay in the airport’s hotel that night as they were on a very early flight the next morning and didn’t want to chance missing it.  The night was long and sleep difficult so as he was standing there in the already long security line checking his boarding pass he looked down at his sneakers and realized he had left his good shoes up in the hotel room. There was no time to go back.  

Once he and his wife arrived at his parents house things, at least on the surface, seemed okay. Except hearing that his father was sleeping all the time and was unable to acknowledge his arrival. As his mother opened the bedroom door his wife took one look at her dear father in-law and became hysterical. He appeared lifeless. His mother rushed her from the room leaving her son to sit quietly with his father. He put his hand to his father’s forehead. It was warm. He knelt and told his father how much he loved him and thanked him for being such a kind and loving father. Then he heard a loud exhale. His father had waited for his son to arrive before passing. 

At that very moment a calm came over him like no other. He checked his father’s pulse to be certain and went to get his mother. He then asked his wife to call the Hospice nurse and soon he and the entire family were standing over their father hugging each other and saying their goodbyes.  

The next morning his mother was already in the kitchen starting to prepare food for the next few days as there would be much company. They had decided to hold a memorial service at the church while the entire family was in town. His father had grown up here and worked very hard to ensure his sons would be able to find a better life on the mainland. And so, when he heard the entire village was shutting down so all could attend the ceremony he was thinking, with a heavy heart, that his father’s life was a good one. His riches far greater than he ever knew. 

As he was pulling together the clothes he would wear to the church he remembered he had no shoes to wear. He went into the kitchen and asked his mom if he could look in his father’s closet. Knowing his father’s feet were smaller than his by a half-size he tried them all on and none of the shoes were fitting until he tried the last pair. A pair of nice dress shoes. They slid onto his feet as if there were made for him. They were perfect.

The day was heavy with sorrow and inside the church their hearts were lifted by the large crowd that came out of respect, love and friendship. Towards the end of the service the pastor asked the family to come forward and as they stood there in a circle embracing each other they bowed their heads as a prayer was being said. He was looking down at his father’s shoes when an immense feeling of calm and awareness came over him. At that moment he realized his father had been talking to him all along. He was meant to wear these shoes today. He could feel him near. “Hello father. I am glad you are here. Yes it is a nice service, so many loved you.” And then a great sense of pride and peace came over him and the entire family looked at him and then at each other and they all knew he was with them. Even in death. And this made it somehow tolerable. 

Yes, it would be a difficult Christmas, and too, the many months ahead. But as they left the church they were filled with a new strength and the knowledge that true love has no boundaries in this universe of ours. And can even appear in an old pair of shoes.

12/12/12
A prayer for all of you that have lost loved ones this year. 
cs

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Inside the Painter's Studio [Notebook Entry #4]






























Preface: 
Back in June I rented a small home and studio in Wellfleet for the month of November. “The Plan” was to spend half of each day visiting with my parents, and especially with mom whose health was declining, and the other half painting.  And as I should have remembered the universe has its own plan as sadly mom passed in late August. Then not two weeks after returning from her funeral my father fell and then needed surgery and things went downhill quickly for him. So back to the Cape I went. 

I was on Cape for 7 weeks, the last five weeks were spent in the Wellfleet rental which had no TV, no internet yet a very large studio. At the time I made the decision I thought it was just what I needed. I was wrong. I spent most of my time in the hospital, at the rehab center and to help keep me centered I signed up for two artist workshops in Provincetown, one girls weekend and finally began to paint again. My dad, I am happy to report, is doing well and will be moving back to his apartment soon. Here I share some of my experiences, thoughts and learnings. - cs

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Thursday November 1: Notebook Entry #4
Inside the Painter's Studio

The studio of James Lechay holds much of his materials and most of the original furnishings. Jim’s original easels are there, his many brushes and various mediums and a blender. Some of the more interesting items were those tacked to the walls. Some old exhibition posters. A few newspaper articles that were of interest to him including a comic or two. And a photograph of Mick Jagger from many years ago. I sat there looking around and just wondered about all the years he spent here, the stories that could be told and the ones still hanging in the air. A few laughs I’m sure as well as a few tears.




There about the shelves hold a few sculpture pieces and a few objects like a red pitcher and a white flower vase that were possibly props he used in a still life or two. The furniture includes a nice comfortable couch, a full size futon on the floor and a very cool old table and retro chairs. The best piece to me was the tall wooden stool with paint all over it. That in itself was a piece of art.  I’m told Jim would go to the studio in the morning and then lie down for his nap about noon. Not a bad schedule and with the screen door and a few windows all open I’m sure it was the perfect place to work and nap in the warmer months.

 

The best part is that one entire wall is windows. And yes, they face North. There is also a small deck outside the doorway and in summer a small bbq. I brought drop cloths and my own folding table so as not to get paint on anything, turned on the stereo and found a rock station out of Boston and began to unpack and set up. I stopped painting pretty much after my first solo show ended back in May when I learned of my two herniated discs and that my mother was critically ill. I had been traveling back and forth, then there was the funeral and now my dad was critically ill. I had to get back to painting and knew that to do so I not only had to brush the dust off of my supplies but also from within. The next day I came in with my coffee and started putting paint to canvas. Just to play. Just to feel it. It wasn’t easy at first. I was getting angry that what was once second nature needed to be practiced once again. But then I stood back and looked around and out the window, turned up the music and felt the blood rushing through my veins once again. I knew it was going to take time, and I was okay with that. 





Getting to Know James Lechay [Notebook Entry #3]


Preface: 
Back in June I rented a small home and studio in Wellfleet for the month of November. “The Plan” was to spend half of each day visiting with my parents, and especially with mom whose health was declining, and the other half painting.  And as I should have remembered the universe has its own plan as sadly mom passed in late August. Then not two weeks after returning from her funeral my father fell and then needed surgery and things went downhill quickly for him. So back to the Cape I went. 

I was on Cape for 7 weeks, the last five weeks were spent in the Wellfleet rental which had no TV, no internet yet a very large studio. At the time I made the decision I thought it was just what I needed. I was wrong. I spent most of my time in the hospital, at the rehab center and to help keep me centered I signed up for two artist workshops in Provincetown, one girls weekend and finally began to paint again. My dad, I am happy to report, is doing well and will be moving back to his apartment soon. Here I share some of my experiences, thoughts and learnings. - cs

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Monday, October 29: Notebook Entry #3
Getting to Know James Lechay

The first thing I did after getting settled was to try get to know James Lechay (pronounced Luh-Shay). I went through the rooms of the house and took pictures and studied the few pieces hanging there and then pulled all the literature I could find from the bookshelves out onto a table and began to go through each, page by page. The largest painting in the house is of a woman quietly standing in a soft field of grey near blue waters. It is about 48 x 55” and commands the room (see below). It didn’t take long to figure out the woman was Rose. You see Jim was a figurative painter and many of his subjects are of his family, and mostly of his wife Rose.































However the literature was mainly exhibition catalogs with little other than facts about Jim. He was born in New York City in 1907, went away to college at the University of Illinois and returned to New York in 1927 with a BA degree and began painting under the tutelage of his already successful brother, Myron Lechay. Jim gained a paying job painting street scenes for the city and by the 1940’s his work was getting national attention and he was winning prestigious awards.  When a long-time friend and mentor was retiring from the University of Iowa they offered him a position and the use of his studio. He stayed for 30 years. After retiring in 1971 he moved to the Cape full time and continued to teach and paint right up to his death at the age of 94. His last show was at PAAM (Provincetown Art Association & Museum) at the age of 91.

When I mentioned to a few artists in Provincetown that I was staying at the Lechay house in Wellfleet I often heard, “oh Jim Lechay? I took a workshop with him. He was a nice man, a quiet man.” And so as I continued to study his work these words were echoing in my head. I saw that they also echoed in his paintings. They were quiet in their simplicity, in their composition and in color but at the same time they were imposing. He made the ordinary beautiful. Even a still life on a table was something to behold. And in all there is that familiar relationship that reminds us that the best in life is found by living deep not wide. And this shows through in his work.



And yet even if he wasn’t one to boast I feel the need to on his behalf. Jim exhibited with the likes of Mark Rothko, Willem de Kooning, Jules Olitski, Nathan Oliveira, Helen Frankenthaler and Alice Neel to name but a few. And you have to dig to learn that his work is included in many prestigious national collections including the Smithsonian. I think Jim just loved to paint, was deeply in love with his muse and wife, Rose, and found his own style at an early age and never looked back. And like Mr. Holland, Jim’s opus most likely is a collection of his years teaching. Here is where many artists, at least the ones we read about, typically teach how to paint their way or in a style that will be known as a “school” built around an ego and the need for attention. Not Jim. He promoted each and every student to find their own way. And that may be Jim’s school. Speak softly but carry a big brush. Paint softly but with the strength and confidence of the Gods. I wish I was able to meet Jim. To hang with him here in his studio and watch him work, ask him questions. But like my 91 year old father he was probably also set in his ways and yet, what ways they were. Paint. Love well. Die. I am convinced that our paths have crossed with intention and I’m now looking at the upcoming weeks here with renewed spirits.




 



Before The Storm [Notebook Entry #2]





























Preface: 
Back in June I rented a small home and studio in Wellfleet for the month of November. “The Plan” was to spend half of each day visiting with my parents, and especially with mom whose health was declining, and the other half painting.  And as I should have remembered the universe has its own plan as sadly mom passed in late August. Then not two weeks after returning from her funeral my father fell and then needed surgery and things went downhill quickly for him. So back to the Cape I went. 

I was on Cape for 7 weeks, the last five weeks were spent in the Wellfleet rental which had no TV, no internet yet a very large studio. At the time I made the decision I thought it was just what I needed. I was wrong. I spent most of my time in the hospital, at the rehab center and to help keep me centered I signed up for two artist workshops in Provincetown, one girls weekend and finally began to paint again. My dad, I am happy to report, is doing well and will be moving back to his apartment soon. I am back in Elmira for three days before flying to Florida for the winter. There is no cable here however there is wireless. So instead of listening to the hum of the refrigerator I decided to type up the notes from the workshops and blog about a few of the experiences that took place as I witnessed Fall turn to Winter on the Cape. Hope it makes up for my absence over the past few months. 
/cs
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Sunday, October 28: Entry #2, Before The Storm

Today I ventured out to get my bearings before the storm. The house is in an enclave of mid-century modern homes just west of town near Chequessett Neck and about two miles from Great Head, Griffin Island and Duck Harbor. Below are photos from these areas quickly snapped by iPhone. While I had been to Wellfleet many times, mainly in summer to shop or visit the pier, I would now have the time to get acquainted with another side of the Cape. I instantly was struck by the dunes, their size and colors and the fact that there were high dunes on the bay side vs the ocean side (the Cape tilts from the ocean to the bay, typically). The beauty was dramatic, the walking trails numerous and the sweet smell of salt water was seeping into my pores. 

Back at the house I was starting to go through tv-withdrawal. Living in Florida through the 2004 hurricanes, I’d grown accustomed to the Weather Channel on 24/7 when a storm was imminent. Now I was just sitting there, a the couch with a nice fire going and the winds were kicking up when all of a sudden I noticed an old amplifier set up on the floor and wondered if it worked. The home is featured frequently in magazines and all of the furnishings are true period pieces. Well, I turned it on and switched it to FM Radio and after some maneuvering of the attached coat hanger I was able to pick up a talk radio station! At last, noise from the outside world! 

That night my lights flickered often and the roof was pelted even harder by those pesky pine cones, acorns and small branches yet by ten o’clock it was over. The local paper showed there was certainly flooding and water damage and some power outages on the Cape but it would be two days before I was able to get in front of a tv to fully grasp the blow that NY, CT and NJ took. I was able to reach my brother who lives in a rent-controlled building for the disabled in Chelsea and learned he was without power or water but thanks to several local organizations he was getting help and was doing well. 

And just as I was feeling a sense of relief I realized a storm of a different kind was brewing as my dad struggled to find purpose in living again and I struggled to learn how to help without going down with the ship...







The Move to Wellfleet [Notebook Entry #1]



Preface: 
Back in June I rented a small home and studio in Wellfleet for the month of November. “The Plan” was to spend half of each day visiting with my parents, and especially with mom whose health was declining, and the other half painting.  And as I should have remembered the universe has its own plan as sadly mom passed in late August. Then not two weeks after returning from her funeral my father fell and then needed surgery and things went downhill quickly for him. So back to the Cape I went. 

I was on Cape for 7 weeks, the last five weeks were spent in the Wellfleet rental which had no TV, no internet yet a very large studio. At the time I made the decision I thought it was just what I needed. I was wrong. I spent most of my time in the hospital, at the rehab center and to help keep me centered I signed up for two artist workshops in Provincetown, one girls weekend and finally began to paint again. My dad, I am happy to report, is doing well and will be moving back to his apartment soon. I am back in Elmira for three days before flying to Florida for the winter. There is no cable here however there is wireless. So instead of listening to the hum of the refrigerator I decided to type up the notes from the workshops and blog about a few of the experiences that took place as I witnessed Fall turn to Winter on the Cape. Hope it makes up for my absence over the past few months. 
/cs 
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Saturday, October 27: Entry #1, The Move to Wellfleet

I had only seen pictures of the house and studio online so as the engine of my SUV, filled with a studio’s worth of canvas, paints, lighting, easels and a folding table as well as a few suit cases, complained and I struggled to climb the steep, small, pot-holed filled path that was Pine Crest Way I wondered just what I had gotten myself into. At its crest I was met with the house and studio first hand. I sat in my car for a few minutes and gazed at it, as well as the surrounding area. I realized I was going to be alone. Really alone. It was the edge of Fall. There was news that a possible hurricane was tracking our way and the owners called from Minnesota and instructed I prepare for a few nights without water or power. The main stream grocery store was 30 minutes away and my Dad’s place/rehab was about 50 minutes away. What was I thinking?



It was almost dark when I returned with a car filled with firewood, a few gallons of water, ice and some non-perishable food items like oranges, organic peanut butter and home made bread. That night I went to bed early. Remember, I had no TV or internet and I had yet to discover a radio. And yes, I used the weather app on my iPhone but my data plan was taking a beating. Anyway, I was lying there in a foreign place when I started hearing unusual noises. Very LOUD unusual noises. At first I couldn’t tell where it was coming from but I jumped out of bed and turned all the lights on and realized it was coming from...the roof.  

If it were day time I would have thought it was from large birds walking on the roof, their talons like long finger nails on metal. But they were scurrying like mice and would have to be some pretty hefty meeces! I gathered up the courage to go outside on the back deck with my phone ready to dial 9-1-1.  The storm was still half-a-day away yet the winds were steady at 20 knots with gusts over 30. So there I stood looking out into the dark as the wet leaves rustled about my feet and the beam from my flashlight flickering through the trees when I began to realize what was causing all the raucous. And stood there with a sense of relief and let out an embarrassing laugh.

HUNDREDS OF ACORNS HAD FALLEN ON THE ROOF AND THE WIND WAS RACING THEM FROM SIDE TO SIDE! Add to that the occasional large pine cone “bombers” and a branch or two dropping and you get the idea. I felt like Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway when he learns the enemy teasing him at night was merely the sound of coconuts falling from the palm trees. 

As I tried to settle back into bed I found myself wondering, on this, my first night in Wellfleet, what was doing out “here?” 





Monday, September 3, 2012

An Artist Self-Imposed Retreat




"In solitude the mind gains strength and learns to lean upon itself."
Laurence Stern

We each have times in our lives when our hearts are filled, and when our hearts are broken. Losing a parent is such a time for many and for me losing my mother after many years of rehab, hospitals, surgeries, more rehab, strokes, selling the house, filling out 25 page Medicaid forms, meetings with lawyers, learning about council on aging services, the nursing home life and, finally, hospice...I have come to realize that I have been holding my breath throughout these days, months, even years. And now, now that my mother is finally at peace I think she would say it is time for me to exhale.

And seeing that I have not had the ability to paint since May, I decided to retreat for an entire month in Wellfleet on Cape Cod. I have rented the home of the artist James Lechay (pronounced La-Shay, 1907 - 2001), a home he had built for his retirement and that includes a wonderful, separate from the house, art studio.



There is no cable tv here just a wonderful, open floor plan surrounded by walls of windows (it is a classic mid-century modern home built by Hayden Walling in 1959), includes a working fireplace and wifi. I bring with me more than a dozen blank canvases, my favorite painting music and a few good books to read.  

While living the creative life I have learned that often all you need to remember is to "just breath"...in teaching yourself how to slow down, to pay attention to and appreciate what you have you start to see the world through the lens of thankfulness as your senses become overwhelmed in the simplicity of living on this wonderous planet. And this is when your best work seems almost effortless. Like being in "the zone." My artist friend, Richard Schreiner, who also passed this summer, left a message behind...he said, always remember to "take a tai chi breath." This simple action is described in classic tai chi literature as "opening and closing." 

This sounds like the perfect time and the ideal way to get back to it with the inspirations of the works of Richard Schreiner, Jim Lechay and my mother surrounding me.  May you find peace and continued energy to brush on...and that you remember to just...breath. 
.cs


Untitled, James Lechay, 74 x 38"




Pink Lady, Richard Schreiner, 78 x 44"




 title unknown, E. Gloria Coffman (my mom), 24 x 18"









Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Arnot Art Museum's Gallery Gala is This Friday


Please remember to support the Arnot Art Museum in Elmira, NY this Saturday by attending and purchasing art by silent auction at their biennial GALLERY GALA invitational exhibition and auction this Friday, August 10. It's a fabulous party with over 220 art works to battle over plus all proceeds from the sale of my two works (above) will go directly to the museum.

For more information and/or to purchase tickets please call the Arnot at 607-734-3697 or email mmanly@artnotartmuseum.org.

      
  

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

When Our Kids Surprise Us



My daughter sent me the above photograph taken during her weekend drive through the back roads of Indiana last week. She knows I love barns and it appears this may have rubbed off on her. With such excitement from the side of the road she called just to share that she and her fellow travelers pulled over to take pictures of “this amazing barn!!” She then asked if I would please paint it for her. 

Some days the smile on a mother’s face lingers long after the calls with her grown children end.

Brush on,
/cs

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Sometimes When You Are Not Looking...


...You begin to really see.

I have been unable to paint for the past 8 weeks. It's just a back problem, and it's improving, but it has forced me to, literally, lay low for awhile. The psychological impact has been positive for the most part as it has given me time to slow down, spend more time in the gym and the pool and step away from the studio and this, in turn, has given me time to look at my work and consider my next steps. On the flip side, it also had me thinking about giving up painting all together, and thinking about my "what's next" steps in life. This was especially punctuated by the loss of a very dear friend just two weeks ago.

Both have kept me here in Florida for the summer instead of up North in the beautiful Finger Lakes and/or my "other home," Cape Cod, and it's meant spending more time inside the homefront instead of out in and around my studio. And even this has had its own set of rewards and obstacles.

Take today for instance. There were dishes in the sink, the dining room table was spread over with paperwork and the laundry was piled up. So, with my list of chores in hand, I did what any good procrastinator would do. I sat down. And as I was contemplating turning on the TV (my avoidance tactics don't have to be military grade) something caught the corner of my eye and put me back on track. 

Forgetting the back problem, I flipped out of the chair with an olympic gymnast's maneuver, grabbed my iPhone and ran out onto the balcony. There, just arriving overhead, was an amazing storm cloud painting images across mother nature's canvas. I dangled over the balcony taking shots and videos while my mind jumped into the yellowfish zone. Everything, including time, stood still. The cloud formations were shape shifters and the sound of the surf and the wind elevated. And I was off in my studio painting it in all its splendor when, just as quickly, it was gone. 

Sometimes that's all it takes. Just a passing, dramatic summer storm cloud to shake things up and get you back on track. Sure, I still have to deal with my list of chores but now, now with a few blinks of en eye I have a renewed sense of the artist within who is driven by nature and a desire to see where the next painting will take her. And it really goes to show that taking some time off, be it willingly or not, has its benefits. I hope you are able to take some time off this summer. You never know what you might be able to see.


Brush on!/cs








































Thursday, July 12, 2012

Richard Schreiner: A Timeless, Social "Introspective"




In a still life world Richard Schreiner, the person, would appear as Cezanne's Basket of Apples. Well composed, with soft colors wrapped around a centered body built upon a philosophical mind field of nurturing warmth and, just slightly hidden from view, a contrasting wry sense of humor.  And Richard Schreiner the painter?  "Well, this guy's not just polishing apples!" 

No, you won't find any flowers or apples in Richard's work. Richard Schreiner is, first and foremost, a figurative painter whose subject matter is, and always has been, the human condition. And he does so with a rhythmic hand, allowing us to enter the painting and consider its context. And while it isn't pretty, it is, rather, beautiful. 

He weaves a dance like no other, leaving just the right amount of room between you and the lead, which in this case is his canvas, to explore your own personal reactions and thoughts. Each comes from a place of humanity, painted by a man of humility yet with a strong, competitive fire that seems to say, "take that, you bastard!" And so the aria of emotion begins. 

Richard's works express the engagement we have with various human conditions. And while the philosophical statements may not be readily apparent on the surface of each canvas, their beauty is also in the way of its telling. 

Take for instance "Sailor" (above, far right wall). This could, to the passing viewer, simply be a dark painting of a man out for a sail.  But Richard's intelligent composition pulls you in and gives you time, as if painted for those of us that need it. You look more closely at the sailor's face, notice he is leaning and looking away from you (as if you don't exist!) and note that he is well dressed and holding a large wheel of a tiller. This is when you sense there is something more here. Is he the "have" side of the "have and have nots?" The answers don't have to be spray-painted across a bridge trellis, but they do require you to consider their meaning.

And this is how he wants the lightbulbs to go off.  His expressive brush strokes whirl around and suck you into his world, a world so poetically crafted over the course of decades across his larger than life-sized canvases that it's amazing to learn that these works haven't seen the light of day for decades. And such strength & commentary can not be, nor should be, fully appreciated without experiencing them in person.   
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What:    "Richard Schreiner: La Viscere de la Bete Noir, A Retrospective" 

Where:    Hollingsworth Gallery, 160 Cypress Pt Pkwy, Palm Coast, FL

Cost:       Free and open to the public, runs in partial through August 8, 2012

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As a young man, Richard was living the text book definition of the 1950's West Side of New York City tough-guy story - he even belonged to a gang and wielded a blade. But his truly deep, dark secret was that he was also carrying straight A's in school. And this, as it turned out, was his ticket off the streets. He quietly applied for and earned, in addition to his black belt in karate, a full merit scholarship to the University of Buffalo (S.U.N.Y.) - renowned then as it is now for its arts & education program. They got him going, gave him a stint in Italy and sent him back to New York City with a B.S. degree in his pocket. But he wasn't stopping there.

Final Sentence, 77 x 44" Acrylic

He was accepted into Yale where he earned his BFA and MFA, took classes from Elaine de Kooning, handled the grunt work at some of the best NYC galleries where he was able to hang with such artists as James Rosenquist (one of the protagonists in the pop-art movement) and spent quality time working independently for and becoming friends with one of the leading cybernetic artists of our time, Wen Ying Tsai (his work is in the permanent collection at the Tate). 

Schreiner was inspired and influenced by three maverick New York City abstract expressionists - Lester Johnson, Al Held and Jack Tworkov.  But it was his relationship with the educational philosopher, author, social activist and teacher, Maxine Greene that had the most profound influence on him. Maxine oversaw Richard's dissertation while earning his doctorate in Art & Philosophy at Columbia University's Teacher's College and was a great friend.  Richard took a very individualistic path developing his own style that mirrored much of what he studied under Greene who believes and taught that "art is a conduit to mean-making, a way of making sense of the world." 

And while Richard spent the next thirty-seven years in academia, as a nurturing and inspiring art teacher and eventually as District Supervisor of the arts program for the East Meadow school district out on Long Island, his own personal growth and ambitious work ethic quietly continued to grow inside his New York City studio. 

And then, as often happens, he put down his brushes for what he thought would be for good and retired with his wife, Arleen, to Palm Coast, FL. He tipped around until serendipity stomped when he stumbled into Hollingsworth Gallery. Here he not only became fast friends with owner, Director John J.J. Graham, he was man-talked back into painting and soon was sharing a studio and once again back teaching.

The retrospective of Richard Schreiner's work is of the quality one would expect to see in a New York City museum, yet it also hollers off the City Marketplace balcony the high level of talent Palm Coast quietly holds in her arms and of which Hollingsworth Gallery embraces. The exhibition continues in partiality until mid-August 2012. 


Update: Richard Schreiner continued to show us the way until his passing on July 12, 2012. Godspeed dear friend, Godspeed.
Rage, 14 x 24" Acrylic on Massonite

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

This Saturday All Bike Trails Lead to Hollingsworth Gallery

Christine Sullivan "Waiting Friend" 12 x 12" Oil on Linen 


Knee high by the 4th of July is not just for the growth of corn, it is the same for bike enthusiasts across the globe. July finds the serious racers of the Tour de France spending grueling weeks high up in the competitive Alps while here in the USA bike trails from Oregon to Cape Cod are wide open and filled with all types of riders, embracing yet another warm and sunny summer on the bike. And growing in Palm Coast, FL, home to more than 50 miles of manicured and well mapped bike trails, is one of the largest community bike events getting off the ground at Hollingsworth Gallery where these two-wheeled marvels will be celebrated during the Gargiulo Art Foundation's First Annual Juried Bicycle Art and Poetry Show entitled, THE ART OF THE BICYCLE. The exhibit and events kick off this Saturday, July 14th at 6 PM with an artist reception offering wine, light appetizers and live music featuring classical guitarist, Abe Alam. This and all events are free and open to the public.

Peter Ceretta
The Gargiulo Art Foundation has supported the Arts in Palm Coast since its founding in 2000 and has funded and "planted" a number of quality public art works in our community including the sculptural work of Paul Baliker and Jane Sbordone. This new community art and poetry event will tie in with Palm Coast's community bike events and is partially funded by a City of Palm Coast Cultural Grant.

The art show features the works of many local and regional artists ranging from an exciting two-bike, life-size sculpture by Wes Cackler (which now graces the corner of the City Marketplace lawns) to exciting, contemporary oil paintings by such established artists as Peter Ceretta, Jean Banas, J.J. Graham, Richard Schreiner and Tom Gargiulo. All works celebrate the freedom and exhilaration one feels while out on a bike.

"The Race" by Wes Cackler (Hollingsworth, top left)
Adding to the theme, local poets ride into the exhibit with their own unique perspectives adding yet another, exhilarating trail within the gallery.

On display next door in the SECCA School of Art studios will be The Hollingsworth Summer Art Camp 2012 Show featuring the amazing, bike-themed works created by the kids in Summer Art Camp You can tell these young artist's were especially inspired by the subject matter.

And after a thrilling opening & reception last month, the SECCA Tree Gallery continues to exhibit La Viscere de la Bete Noir featuring the acclaimed works of local & resident artist, Richard Schreiner.

So head on over to Hollingsworth Gallery this Saturday evening for a relaxing ride through their three galleries and open artist's studios all on the second floor balcony of City Marketplace.

But the trail doesn't end on Saturday, this special Gargiulo Art Foundation exhibition continues throughout July with a number of community events (below) to be held at the gallery and which are open to the public and free of charge.   Brush on! cs
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GARGIULO ART FOUNDATION
BIKE & POETRY COMMUNITY EVENTS AT HOLLINGSWORTH GALLERY
(ALL OPEN TO THE PUBLIC AND FREE OF CHARGE)
July 14     6 PM       "The Art of The Bicycle" bike & poetry show opening/Artist Reception 
July 18     7 PM       "Bicycle Tales from the Trails" moderated by Tom Gargiulo
July 21     10 AM     "Children's Poetry Workshop" with Deborah Susswein
July 28     10 AM     "Adult Poetry Workshop" with Deborah Susswein
July 28     1 PM       "AOTB Artists' Panel Discussion" moderated by Tom Gargiulo
July 28     2:30 PM   "Benefits of Bicycling" with Bicycle Doctor Tony Libertti 
Aug 11     6 PM       "Encore / Artist Reception," Most Popular Artist Award Presentation





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