(I.T.S. = “inside the studio,” my usual lead into the process behind a new project.) In a former post, I wrote about the shipwreck of my five-canvas plan—and the unexpected salvage that followed. That has now clarified two things: Sanctuary, the golden diptych now live in the gallery under “series,” and Five Wounds, a remaining canvas that is still wrestling its way into existence (now given the original name of the whole series). It’s clear now that these works are not vari

When I was 14, a good friend started feeding me his leftover after-school jobs. He was a year older, and I was happy to follow in his footsteps. When he was leaving a position at the biggest paint and wallpaper store in our town—heck, the biggest on Long Island, Aboff’s Paint and Wallpaper—I was happy to step in. The job was a few days after school, plus Friday nights and all day Saturday. The work wasn’t very complicated. My dad did house-painting jobs for extra cash on the

I know I often say that I don’t like to explain my artwork or impose explicit narratives onto it. But Hold On has a context that would almost feel disrespectful to the viewer if I left it unsaid. At least, that’s what I’ll tell myself. The early “sketches” for this piece were first laid down nearly thirty years ago, when my brain suddenly experienced the physiology that accompanied losing the sight in one eye. Since then, more central causes have been to blame. Nevertheless,

Wow, did I bite it. For a bit. I spent almost two weeks planning, buying supplies, and building the background across five canvases. Time, money (albeit only about $25), and an over-thought plan for how I would approach the project. The background came out OK. But the plan for finishing them wound up cluttered with competing visuals that turned a plan for a quiet, meditative peace into Penn Station at rush hour. The Silver Lining: Maybe it wasn't that bad, but it did allow m

I painted this late last spring and into summer. It was crafted as a literal attempt at managing some of my own useless and long-forgotten nonsense. It only dawned on me later that “anger management” was not obviously distinct from what I imagined for my canvas. I saw angry as the thing to be tamed, while anger is a normal and natural response to situations or circumstances. If I seem to be splitting hairs, I am. But I was seeking to manage my own reactions to anger, and saw

Warning: breaking my rules about over explaining. Proceed with caution. This three-foot by three-foot piece was created as a birthday present, with a single prompt: to harmonize with the space above this couch and the impressionist painting hanging on the opposite wall. (Shown below) Part I: The Palette I began by establishing a physical connection with the companion painting across the room—a piece I call with deep respect, Heidi. I built a palette using colors that would co

I’m not ashamed to say it: I was so deeply moved by Barnett Newman’s Stations of the Cross that its influence shows up a lot. His zips inspired me to use them in my painting, “Jailbreak.” After visiting them last spring, I began my series, Mr. Jacobson, the very next day. It’s been a while since my last trip to the NGA (I probably need to go soon). I’m just becoming obsessed with the meditative quality in his work, and that of so many others (I’m looking at you, Mr. Rothko).

This was a mixture of ambition, stupidity, sacrifice, and risk. Built shortly after hanging out with Newman’s zips at the NGA and seeing how scaffolding and simple marks redirect the emotional flow of a painting. I wanted to see how 1/4 tape artifacts next to a single thicker version would transform a finished scene. I was not disappointed. First I constructed a moody and layered ground of cooled, rolling volcanic sand beneath the heat of an uncertain sky. A peaceful, medit

I created both of these paintings during Christmas of 2025. This was a little more than one month after I opened my first set of paints. And I was desperate to experiment with how heat and light can be contained and amplify at the same time. I dragged and wiped, with dry brush and clean rags, using small amounts of tape to form and hide. Even using my fingers to swallow and pull the viewer into the scene. Learning by doing and the canvas teaching in response. With Radiohea

I don’t talk much public policy here in Fives Studio, but it is an immense relief to be surrounded by and creating original art while AI “content” is on the rise. Mostly because I have found an antidote to being too soaked by “fake.” The relief and happiness I get during my painting sessions I have likened to deep sleep, ordering my focus to limited, essential tasks. I don’t get adequate deep sleep but I understand its value. My brain’s default is to be frenetically moving

I can discuss this now that they are almost dried. I told you in the first log last month; concept came from the Old Testament story and the wisdom found in silence. I also went to the Phillips collection that same weekend and juiced up the idea of exploring eternal truths and contemporary subjects.. Two canvases here were done before I touched a brush or tool and before realized what was happening. One on the bottom, I hoped to catch today’s exhausting competition for your

I’ve completed the project. The second part took me 10 times longer to complete than the busier than part one. the The white center was framed by a cerulean blue, applied in dozens of layers. Applied in alternating directions, blended the edges with dry brushing, sponge and rags. Surrounded by the edges painted in orange, left and right, and purple, top and bottom. each peeking out in places. The effort was rewarded as I used a 8 inch wide brush to sweep the field clean. Onc

Warning: I explain more about the interior of where this originated than I should; I seriously considered burning both this blog post and the painting. Title: The Floor Is Lava The title comes from a game I played as a kid in various living rooms in the 1970s and 80s during birthdays and sleepovers. It became a television show by the same name a few years ago. Music: A soundtrack of yacht rock and '80s alt hits on Amazon Music was rocking the studio while I painted this. I s

Here i am creating a template for how I will present select previous and future paintings. I will NOT be interpreting what a viewer should see, feel, or think. I will also not discuss what I was feeling or hoping for while creating the piece. Unless I explicitly have a narrative I want to share, this is not "story time," nor is it an audio description option for the studio. I want to to tell the stories I feel, but viewers deserve my trust and respect for their pov. However,

I am usually reluctant to overly explain my paintings, but this is a piece where context is everything. I won’t bury the lede: VOS 0.15 is the name of this painting and also the visual acuity of my left eye. Basically, it is the measurement doctors use to say, "He can’t see squat in his left eye." More specifically, I can make out fuzzy shapes, detect motion, and navigate floating spaces where things are slightly clearer. And I see it only in black and white. It has been like

I see my painting the same way I used to listen to music—specifically, punk rock and alternative music . In high school, I used to write lyrics—really bad lyrics—to find a place to put feelings that had nowhere else to go. I would find kids who had similar spirits, and we’d soothe ourselves with the chords in Joy Division and The Smiths, sneaking cigarettes wondering “How Soon Is Now?” and if “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” When I paint, I feel as if I am in a punk band. I mean no

The first reading at Mass this weekend was from the book of Kings. The familiar story of how God’s wisdom is heard not in destructive wind, mountain shattering earthquakes, or scorching fires. It’s in the deafening silence that follows. And when I recalled the two paired, colossal works at Phillips it dawned on me: The fire, wind and earthquakes of today are often the audio, visual and physiological demands on us all day and night. The news stories designed to divide, the so

I took advantage of my proximity to the wonderful Phillips Collection last Saturday. I went to see the work of regional artists who were entered into the juried exhibition this year. What I experienced was a profound reminder of the serendipity that happens when you create the right circumstances. I ran into a friendly staffer whom I used to chat with when she worked at a local art supply store. She is now employed at The Phillips Collection. After we swapped stories about ou

After some medical hiccups last week (and advice to limit screen time as my vestibular system recovers), my energy level dropped but passion doubled. I got so much studio work done. I tried new mark making techniques,built new colors, and attempted to accomplish something I’ve long dreaded: the self portrait. Gasp. I built a dark chromatic navy black from burnt senna, primary magenta, and Prussian blue. I used it for the ground for a few experiments with wiping: using silico

This painting (“Life Between” 36x48 inches, oil on canvas, 2026) was among the many ideas that began during my hiatus. As with nearly all of my projects, it evolved as it appeared and the canvas spoke back. I’ll save the physical process for another post but as I layered in the marks and called it finished I had a 12 hour crisis. Stupid, irrational, and disrespectful to the work, self-doubt and even fear bedeviled my spirit. Not my ever -present “imposter syndrome” and garde