It’s not often that I bring a series to It’s logical conclusion. I am often led from one train of thought into another related, expansion of a idea. Each painting, each series, continues and grows from my previous work. Like a tree grown from the seed of an older and familiar tree, every painting, really every series I have ever worked on picks up on threads from the last bit of work. It’s all evolved from the same DNA, the same drive, the same desire to be seen and heard that motivated me a as a boy, then as a student, then as a mature painter, until now, a senior citizen, (how'd that, insert choice of expletives, happen?), who has become quite set in his ways.
This series feels different, like coda. Almost a postscript.
I returned headlong to the landscape motif in 2013 when Dianne was diagnosed and being treated with/for and ultimately defeating cancer, TWICE! During her emotional battles, I remained by her side battling with her and discovering a few hidden demons of my own. During this time my creative focus was limited so began working on small “quickshots”, 5x7 to 11x14 landscape paintings done in short quick bursts of rage, fear, hope, and love. Gradually I found a voice that dwelled on energetic, brilliantly colored, painting filled with brush stokes and large scale canvases. For ten years, Taylespun has told tales of hope using vibrant and immersive, brilliant color, and I was having a blast.
Then, in the last three years a series of compounded life threatening illnesses grabbed hold of my family. Surgeries, therapies, slow recoveries, and even loss became a primary part of my life. Every breath felt painful and the color on my canvas just disappeared. The energy and the drive was simply gone. I needed to hide. So I dimmed the lights, and found some bit of solace in the shadows. I found value in value, the range of grays between light and dark.
Elevations, the title of this group of mixed media drawings, refers to that spot atop of the mountains, for me, The White Mountains in New Hampshire. At time in my life I have struggled to take each step, each stride a bit harder than the last, until finally, I reach the top, a temporary destination in my journey. I celebrate it and I promise myself to remember.
Early this year, 2024, during this part of my life’s tale, I lost my mom, my first and most unrelenting supporter. She bought me my first pad of paper, my first canvas, my first palette and of course, my very fist bits of charcoal, all before I was twelve-years-old. I think she would like this group of drawings. It hearkens back to my earliest experimental drawings, my search for a new reality, and those first bits of charcoal my mom bought me and those uncertain and messy first steps toward artistic summits, to the creative elevations I have experienced and the new ones I may yet discover. By bonding those early drawings of my long past journeys, this simple looking group of drawings may be the most emotionally important work I have ever done. Although it may not be apparent to the viewer, Elevations has become a very personal expression of loss, discovery, and renewed.
My story continues with new perspectives and changing goals. I can no longer walk to the summit of a mountain. Hell, I can’t even walk briskly alone the ocean shore, but I still have my brushes and my dreams and I can still ride a tram, a train, or a van to the tops of those mountains and revel at the success of reaching even more Temporary Destinations..
This series was created with support from the Fall River Cultural Council a division of the Massachusetts Cultural Council. I am grateful for their support.
