I'm going to go back 100 years or so to an artist I passed over: Goya. In the spectrum of artists from those of structure to those of feeling, Goya is definitely the latter. But what is remarkable is the way he anticipated the romantics and 20th century expressionists, working at the height of the Enlightenment.

The Enlightment thinkers of the 18th century believed in the ultimate and inevitable perfectability of man through reason. They largely ignored the existence and power of the bestial side of man, a fatal mistake. The Greeks were wiser: thouogh they elevated reason as man's great gift, they never forgat the other side of his nature. Their image was of the horse and rider - today the Id and Ego - and understood the need to respect and control the bestial side.

Goya saw the cracks in the Enlightenment facade, and saw the bestiality hidden beneath. He has two works which address the issue directly. The "Sleep of Reason produces Monsters", the frontispiece to his etching series on the Disasters of War, shows an awareness of the irrational which is unique at that time. The later painting "Saturn Devouring his Children" (above) is much more visceral but equally farreaching in its philosophical message. Saturn, who rules Olympus before he was slain by his son Zeus, represents everything that is bestial and always ready to overwhelm the forces of reason.

Goya began his career very much in the great tradition of Velazquez, as official painter to the Court of Spain. I show you his portrait of the Royal Family which demonstrates his mastery of the ideom, while showing a marked unwillingness to flatter the subjects in any way. In Goya's prtraits, men always seem to be weak and ineffectual, while women are strong; we see this again in a portrait of Dona Isabella de Porcel.

But early on Goya turned his attention to the irrational, partucularly in his etchings, but also in a work like "Majas on the Balcony". This seemingly innocent scene is fraught with menace, as the figures of the "secorts" loom out of a sinister darkness. This has been interpretated psychologically as the menace of the irrational, and also politically, as innocent Spain menaced by the Napoleonic armies. For me the two interpretations have become inseparable in Goya's thinking.

Reality for Goya Became Spain under the heel of Napoleon, and the bestiality which is the inevitable result of war. Where his earlier etching series were aimed at uncovering the irrational suspertitions of the people and the venality of their masters, the "Disasters of War" are like the work of a photojournalist, a witness to horror. Throughout he uses black and white as a vehicle for terror and panic with a power matched at that time only by the prison fantasies of Piranesi, and not seen again until Munch at the end of the next century.

I'm coming back around to where I started, which was with Cezanne...and more generally with late 19th century European painting. I find more to excite me in that period than in any other.

As I think about the Impressionists, and the generations that followed, I definitely learn something about myself and what satisfies my artistic soul. I like structure. I am more excited by Degas and Manet, the two artists who had an "academic" training, than I am by most of Monet, and I like Monet better than Renoir. I can feel the lightness and joy of Renoir's work, its wonderful softness, but ultimately it leaves me wanting more.

In Degas' work, the feeling of carelessness in framing belies the artfulness behind it. Degas great genius was to develop an entirely new kind of framing (new at least in European art of the period) built on asymetry and arbitrary cutting off of the scene at its edges. The effect is of candid photography as opposed to composed photography, with its incompleteness and strange intrudion of neighboring elements. The "Absinthe Drinker" is an excellent example: the woman is in fact centered within the uprights of the frame, but this results in her companion being shoved rudely against the side, while on her right is emptiness, with tables running aggressively into the foreground. It seems dramatically imbalanced, yet holds the frame beautifully.

We can see the same thing in two earlier works, not yet affected by the color of his younger impressionist contemporaries. The "Cotton Exchange" begins the radical compositional experimentation of the "Absinthe Drinker"; it is remarkably informal in its organization. There seems to be no real subject, just the collage of life and movement in a space where everyone is doing their own thing. This was unheard of in painting before Degas. In "Carriage at the Races" the experimentation is definitely being carried further. At the exact center is a woman displaying her baby, clearly the "subject", while everything around her seems to fall accidentally in place. The horse and carriage on the right is "balanced" by near emptiness on the left, yet all held in place by the psychological focus on the center.

Degas is perhaps best know for his ballet dancers, explored in a hundred moments, from rest to rehearsal to performance. In these work he develops his compositional innovation in dozens of variations. In these works he seems to combine his strong semse of structure and framing with the insubstantiality and color of his impressionist comrades.

I'm gong to end with a work which is similarly experimental, but in which another element seems to emerge: a "psychological negation" created when the compositional elements seem to negate the human meaning of the figures. In "The Milliners" we see what is presumably two women arranging hats in the display window of a Milliner's shop. The hats - which are after all the intended center of interest for the shop - compete with the human figures to the point where they become "also rans", devoid of any psychological focus. This is probably an influence from Manet...my next subject!

Should paintings or nude statues be shown in a public setting such as a Library or Mall? As a visual artist who sets up art displays in public places, I am very aware of our American society's standards of what is considered acceptable for public consumption. All societies have these standards of behavior and yes, the standards do evolve with society. 60 years ago, Tarzan of the Apes was considered too sexy for the libraries! What is acceptable in Europe is quite different than what is acceptable in America also. American standards are usually much more conservative than those prevalent in Europe. In this financially strapped time, Libraries are very dependent on donations to purchase their materials. Let's face it; donors are simply not going to purchase materials they don'___™t like and they won'___™t give money to organizations that do. Just as a person isn't allowed to scream FIRE in a crowded area for fear of causing panic, as a society we will always need to make judgments as to what is appropriate for our public libraries to spend their money on. And yes, in the past governments have been very heavy handed on what was considered appropriate. On that subject, the right of Private adult individuals to decide what they will read and see must always be defended. The internet has virtually ensured that free speech will be protected; as long as it exists, artists and book publishers will be permitted to sell these items (in the appropriate venues), and I don'___™t think we need to be too worried about government imposed censorship. Is there a difference between a Rubens classical painting and Playboy? Most of us think so. And yet some of his art is probably more graphic than a Playboy centerfold and this image certainly shows violence toward women. Nevertheless most museums would have no hesitation in displaying it in a public venue.
A great many "women's romance" novels do contain what used to be called soft or vanilla porn (sexual situations which are sometimes graphically described although I find the authors usually use euphemisms). These novels ARE purchased by libraries; I have checked them out myself. The main difference between hard pornography and these novels is women's romance books usually don't also contain profanity in describing the sexual adventures of their heroines, and although the libraries do purchase books, videos and games containing graphic sexual themes or graphic violence, these materials usually aren't kept in the juvenile section. Most county libraries require a parent'___™s permission for a child to check out materials from the adult section. Is this censorship? Absolutely. Is it appropriate? As a parent, I have think so. Children often lack the maturity to put what they are reading and seeing in context and require adult interpretation to help them do so. If an adult is there to provide an explanation of, ___"visuals of the Nazi death camps or the Manson murders or the books Helter Skelter and Truman Capote's In Cold Blood, then it can be appropriate for a child to see those images or read those books. Only a parent can truly judge whether or not their child could handle such graphic images, or if the child has enough of a grasp on the difference between reality and fantasy to be allowed to play a video game that is rated mature____, read an explicit book, look at a Rubens painting or watch such a movie. For myself when setting up a public art display I find the following criteria helpful in judging whether or not reading matter or an art display will be acceptable to the general public: 1) the context in which it appears; i.e. A painting, recording or a book containing graphic sex or violence will be much more likely to be acceptable if it contains historical facts. 2) The age of the audience the video game, book or display is intended for. I agree with the view held by most Americans the subject matter should be age appropriate. So Yes, Censorship can be a positive force if used properly.

I have been picking out artists who are my favorites, and who also deserve to be called great because of the nature of their enterprise. Many of my favorite artists are not "great" in this sense; they are modest and unassuming in their scope and intentions. A good example is the artist with whom I feel the greatest natural affinity: John Constable. But before turning to Constable, I thought I should give homage to his truly great English contemporary, William Turner.

It is hard to like Turner as a human being; he was rather a nasty man, secretive, suspicious, paranoid. He is famed for going into the Royal Academy exhibition during "drying days" (when the show had beeen hung, the public were not yet admitted, and presumably artists were applying a final coat of varnish) and retouching his work with color deliberately calculated to "kill" the color in the neighboring works. He also would not give the time of day to young aspiring artists who sought his help or advice; how unlike his French contemporary Corot! If a young artist was destitute and starving, he would paint a fake "Corot" and take it to the master, who would sign it so that the youngster could sell it to hold off the wolf at the door.

But what Turner accomplished as an artist was truly remarkable. He went much further and faster in dissolving form in light than did the impressionists, and as a result looks remarkably modern even today. He took an Italianate tradition of landscape suffused in light, and took it quickly to its logical conclusion. It is facinating to compare the early "Dido Building Carthage", very much an homage to the 17th century artist Claude Lorraine, with any of his later landscapes, in which everything is freed from the constraints of solid form.

However, I think it is wrong to see Turner just as "almost abstract". However much his work seems to anticipate the "Compositions" of Kandinsky, the underlying impulse is different: Turner is at heart a naturalist. Far from trying to break from associations with the natural world, he is asking you to reach for them! A look at "Sunrise, Norham Castle" shows what I mean: The first impression is a swirl of meaningless color and light, but the figure of the deer drinking at the water's edge starts us on our way to interpretation. From the deer we get the water, which gradually distinguishes itself from the land, and ultimately the form of the castle itself becomes perceptible. If you are looking at it as Turner intended, you will end up with the entire scene.

Turner was legendary for his incredible visual memory. He could experience a sunset, or a storm at sea, and without sketches, return to the studio days later to recreate it. This is for me the core of his genius.

The decision to include Leonardo is not based on the impact of the work on me viscerally and emotionally; in fact, on one level you could say he is not a "favorite" artist at all. It is more that I stand in awe of what he accomplished as an artist, while so much of his energies and imagination were focussed on other things. And of course, after a piece on Michelangelo, it is only proper to give Leonardo equal time.

Michelangelo and Leonardo were the towering figures of the Renaissance until the younger Raphael rose to join them, great rivals, driving each other to greater heights. While Michelangelo yielded to no one in the ambitiousness of his schemes, he was always most comfortable with his chisel and stone; Leonardo, on the other hand, mocked his rival for getting covered with marble dust. For him, art was in the invention; the rest was "just craft", an idea which has had enormous influence in western art since Leonardo first posited it.

Leonardo's genius was to really invent something new, each time he put his mind to a problem, whether in art or technology. We are amazed to find that he seems to have thought of most of the great mechanical inventions of the next 500 years, such as the airplane and helicopter, but his invention was as remarkalbe in the field of art. In the "Madonna and Child with Ste. Anne" we see the invention of the pyramidal composition of figures which Raphael was later to elaborate and perfect in the High Renaissance. It is fascinating to see him work it out between the sketch and the final version, essentially completing the "invention". After this he would turn to something else; once the idea was fully realized, why repeat it?

The "Mona Lisa" shows a very different invention, in atmosphere rather than composition. The "Sfumato" (smokiness) which envelops the figure is something totally new, radically unlike the clarity of Renaissance painting in general. In subordinating color and form to light and atmosphere, Leonardo is anticipating Rembrandt. An artist who had just one of these inventions to his credit would be considered great.

It is remarkable that Leonardo could have achieved so much as an artist when so much of his energy was devoted to the wider exploration of the world and its possibilities. Even his art itself often seems to be in service of his voracious curiosity, as in his muscular study. I don't think we have seen his equal in intellect until Einstein.

In each of the previous posts I have asked the question "What challenge did this artist set himself that sets his work beyond good to great?". Not all my favorite artists have such an ambitious enterprise, but I will show one more; Michelangelo. For me, the remarkable thing about his work is how often he rose above crippling external limitations and turned them into glorious oportunities.

The "David" is an excellent example, especially if we accept the story about its creation. According to contemporary sources, a truley magnificent block of Carrara marble, intended for another sculptor, was tragically damaged in transit, with a chunk broken off in the middle almost to the center of the block. The sculptor for whom it was intended said nothing could be done short of cutting it into two pieces, so the city of Florence turned to Michelangelo and asked him if he could salvage something from the whole block. The result was the "David" and it is magnificent not only in spite of, but also because of the impossible restrictions placed on him by the block. The result is that Michelangelo has produced a classical torso too small for the size of the figure, which is dominated by the head, hands and feet...and the whole is totally convincing.

We can see the same in his works of architecture, in two striking examples. One is the Laurentian Library in Florence, which was built on top of an existing monastery building, and could only be approached through a tall and narrow space which should have defeated any attempt to create a succesful entrance. Michelangelo chose to make a statement of its awkwardness, creating a magnificnet stairway which runs down into the space like a flow of lava, heightening the visitor's sense of the constriction of the space.

At St. Peters basilica in Rome, he had a similar restriction: He was told to salvage what he could of the unfinished structure of his predecessor Bramante, including the four massive piers to support the dome. Bramante, a very good architect, was totally out of his depth with the St. Peters project: surviving designs show a scheme without any strong unifying element, a jangle of too many disparate parts. Michelangelo again turned the limitation into a totally unified and successful design.

It is appropriate that Michelangelo's greatest work in Fresco, the Sistine Ceiling, should offer the same difficulties. Instead of a clear unbroken field for his design, he had a ceiling that was awkwardly long, and broken up along the sides by groin vaults which imposed and arbitrary matrix. I'm not sure that even he has completely overcome the burden of the ceiling's architecture, but certainly he has made many generations of viewers forget about it.

I'm going to end by returning to sculpture, and turning to another mark of greatness. Scupture was always Michelangelo's first and greatest love, and he chafed under the need to work on other projects at the command of his patron, Julius II. Michelangelo believed that each block of stone contained a figure imprisoned in it, which the sculptor needed to bring to light and freedom. The amazing thing is that he did this literally!

Every other sculptor working in stone carves away the most obvious excess, gradually working toward the final surface of the figure. Each successive approximation makes it easier to go further without error. It is clear from the "Unfinished Slave" that MIchelangelo dived right in to the block, stopping within an inch or two of the final surface, without carving away other areas. This is not even possible; how did he DO it? There could be no greater evidence of genius than this remarkable ability to visualize the figure in the stone. Amazing!

This is the second in my new series of my favorite artists, and what it is in their artistic enterprise that sets them above the merely very good. After having started with a self-portrait by Cezanne in my last post, I can't resist starting this post off with another self-portrait, one of many by Rembrandt.

How different they are! The Cezanne self-portrait, though it can captivate you as a work of art for hours, in the end shows you almost nothing about the man beyond his physical exterior. Cezanne clearly was not trying to explore his inner self at all. The Rembrandt, on the other hand, shows you infintely more than a thousand words could tell you about his soul, his humanity, and most importantly our humanity. Just look into his eyes, and get lost in them.

The eyes are certainly one of the keys. They are cast in a shadow which dissolves the barrier of the surface of things and opens the door to the soul.

The challenge of Rembrandt is to paint the substance of things, their texture, their reality, and yet somehow take you far beyond that surface into the depths of the essential human struggle. Aging. Dealing with our impermanance and our imperfection. How can he show us so much about ourselves? Because he is us, and we are all mankind.

Rembrandt's portrait of Hendijke bathing is one of my favorite examples. Hendrijke was Rembrandt's housekeeper and common-law wife. and we see her here as simultaneously totally ordinary and infinitely precious. Hendrijke's shift is one of the most astounding passages of pure paint in the Baroque, which features such absolute masters and Velasquez. But as much as I enjoy that paint, what always stays with me is the perfect childlike pleasure of the girl, unaware of being observed.

The same combination of physical matter and spiritual pnentration is there in the well-known "Jewish Bride". The two faces are individual but somehow let us substitute our own, or those ofany couple we love. These two are in love, but not lost in the immediacy of it: they are contemplating at future with both pleasure and suffering.

Rembrandt's religious work is likewise about humanity, not about awe. The "Descent from the Cross" Is a group held powerfully together by the use of light, and by the common bond of the moment...and yet they suffering and the meaning are totally personal for each of the participants! To go from one to another, to identify who they are and known what they personally must be feeling; this is the genius of the work.

I'll finish with Rembrandt's famous "100 guilder print" ("Christ among the Children"), his most ambitious etching. It is again totally unified by light and by feeling, yet filled with the individual responses of each child and bystander to the presence of Christ. Marvellous!

The other day I was in for treatment at my chiropractor, and he asked me if I had seen "that guy who paints on TV" and what I thought of him. I said I had, that he had mastered the skills of his craft, and had developed visual ideoms for natural elements which were now second nature to him. Then, in an effort to explain why that did not make him a great artist, I told him about Cezanne. Later, I decided that might make a good series of posts to do: artists whose chosen enterprise was such that the challenge of it elevated them way above the norm.

I told my chiropractor that Cezanne, far from whipping off images that he could do in his sleep, set himself a goal that is arguably the most challenging ever set by an artist. His goal was to fully describe the solidity of objects in space, while at the same time never allowing the viewer to forget the substance of the paint on the canvas.

Obviously, it can't really be done: the two are in direct conflict. Cezanne, predictably, was never satisfied with anything he did, and destroyed a great deal of his output. But what a marvellous result he achieved in the trying!

The self-portraits are a good place to see his struggle. Taking advantage of his magnificent bald cranium, he is determined to show you a solid spherical mass, built with sculptural strokes like chizel marks, a mass you are immediately convinced you could run your hand around and behind...except you can't! When you reach the edge of the skull, you strike a mass of paint surrounding it which is as dense and as demanding as the head itself. You are brought up short at the surface of the canvas.

The landscapes show you the same struggle at work. The early "House of the Hanged Man" (not yet influenced by the color of the impressionists) is a great example. The house is a massive block, impressive in its substance and solidity, but the view into distance which is at the center does not really let you past the house into space. Already in this early work the "space" has become dense and solid, adhering to the surface. Furthermore, the deliberate distortions of the lines describing the foreground change what should have been a road rushing into space into a flat slab on the surface. The later work of "Bibemus Quarry" shows him working out similar contradictions in the brighter colors of impressionism.

Still lives, which he returned to again and again, may be the best arena to see his enterprise, since everything is controlled by the artist to create the challenge he wants. His objects are always those which shout their solidity: round fruit, vases and dishes, almost never anything "wishy-washy" like flowers. Typically there is the corner of a table turning back into the space, or it would if he let it. The onions or oranges are marvelous in their roundness, while never escaping the grip of the paint around them.

At least one measure of a great artist is this: an enterprise that never allows him to succeed easily, which grapples with the fundamental questions of life, or, as in Cezanne's case, of the nature of art.

This is a collage created almost entirely from recycled magazines. (The sun is gold leaf) I worked on this by grading the magazine photos by value and then treating the value sketch (gridded up onto 24×36 piece of black matboard from an 8,5×11 b/w photograph) like the base for a big big jigsaw. It took many hours to complete but was great fun to do!

There is sex, that physical act, and then there is love making. While often playing semantics, there is a discernible difference between the two. Making love implies an emotional connection, a certain intimacy that transcends the physical, and often has nothing to do with sexual intercourse. Making love can be present in all kinds of relationships, in fact, as it is the uniquely human ability to connect on a spiritual plane.

Suze Orman says, quite accurately, that women are more relational than men. A woman cannot do well with anything in her life, unless she has a relationship with it. While Suze is talking about women and money, I think this idea is important. How many things do you have in your life, and how many of these things do you see in terms of relationship?

For me, one of these things is my artwork. I have never considered that I have a relationship with it, nor have I felt that having a relationship with my art is important. I have always considered my art to be an extension of myself, the "self" within. When I post my work online I often feel naked, as though I have exposed something that should be kept covered up and private. It feels as though I am baring my soul for the world to see. Perhaps that is true, but there are other forces at work here too.

If you were to ask me two weeks ago if I had a relationship with my art, I'd have thought for a moment and felt, in a vague way, that it was a relationship of sorts, but a contentious one; I do a lot of fighting and arguing, frequently feeling a lot of disgust and frustration. If I had a human life partner and we shared the sort of angst I have had with my art, we would soon be divorced. No one likes to live like that!

Two days after my birthday, February 20, I had a "better than sex" experience with making art. I made love with my art. I have never done that before. I realized, quite suddenly, that this is more than an extension of the self. I suddenly understood that I have to build a relationship with this activity. I have to love it unconditionally, appreciate it, build on it, trust it, believe in it, nurture it, as I would any important relationship in my life. Then, and only then, am going to be able to relate to it as intimately as I did last week. It was the most singular experience of my life, quite the defining moment. It was the most intoxicating and draining, energizing and exciting emotional experience of my life. It was like discovering that a passionate lover lives next door and it only took 37 years to notice how attractive that person is!

The brass tacks of painting will never be the same for me. I have a profoundly intimate relationship with something of beauty and delicate substance, if I chose to honor it with my love. And I do.

The Holidays aren't coming, they're here! We're barely through the Thanksgiving leftovers and already the giving and receiving of gifts has spiraled out of control. We feel pressure to buy something, anything, whether the receiver wants it or not. Don't get frantic, take a deep breath, think it through. "Doesn't art, especially small art, make the perfect gift?" Here are eight reasons why...

1. Art fits everyone

2. There is a good chance they don't have another one like it.

3. Art doesn't spoil.

4. There is no such thing as too much art.

5. You can take it on a plane.

6. Art (often) does not require batteries.

7. There is no assembly.

8. If for some unknown reason they don't like it, it's easy to hang up quickly when they know you are coming over.

Affordable art for gifts and small spaces; ArtId's Small Works Gallery was created for just this purpose. There are thousands if not million of artists on line vying for your attention where do you start? The Small Works Gallery, puts dozens of juried artists in one convenient place for you to browse. All pieces measure under 12 inches, original, fine art print or photograph, and many come framed. Here are some tips to help you choose:

1. Does the person vacation somewhere? Look for art of that area.

2. Where did the person grow up? Look for images of their hometown.

3. Does this person like dogs, cats, giraffes or cows? Lots of animal art available.

4. Is the person into food and wine? You will have plenty from which to choose there.

5. Does the person collect something? Instead of buying them yet another one of what they collect, how about a painting of one?

6. Does the person garden? You are in luck.

7. Does this person hunt, fish, ski, drag race? There is art for everyone.

8. Is the person artistic? Gift Certificates for art supplies or a year's membership to ArtId is always welcome.

Questions? e-Mail us at info@artid.com

Art doesn't have to be out of your reach. A little research can help find you something in your price range. Take a moment to look at the cost of cheaply framed posters in department stores and see how original art can be found for just a little more, have more meaning and last a lifetime.

It is not a new idea that nature herself is a rich source of abstract pattern and design. Examples of pattern are all around us, in the forms of flowers, the lacework of branches against the sky, and the geological expressions in rock. In the last hundred years, we have been able to see the patterns of nature at the macro and micro scale as well: The fabulous swirling forms of nebulae, and the intricate ordered patterns of crystals.

I have always had a powerful response to these natural patterns, while never having a strong urge to work abstractly. My compulsion in art is to record what excites me in the outside world. In the last eighteen months, that has often been rocks and rockfaces. Most recently, I have found myself responding to the most abstract examples I see. This has led to a series of works in which the primary impact is on the level of pattern and design, but which are still a faithful recording of what is in front of me.

The most interesting aspect of rockfaces is the intermingling of two independent pattern agents: color and form. This can be seen very well in the work above, which I have titled "Cross Purposes". The granite is striped with color based on the layering of its original formation. This design is overlaid with the fissures and facets worked by a millennia of wear and tear. The resulting double pattern is rich in complexity.

Two other examples of this highly abstract double patterning are seen in "Cracking up" and "Bullseye", which I am showing with the photographs from which they were done. It should say that the bluer tonality of my works is a function of the color palette of the laptop image from which I paint, which brings out the blues. I have chosen images where the conflicting patterns come into compositional balance; I am then recording that balance with limited adjustments or invention.

I will show two further examples, with the accompanying photographs, where I have found associations in the patterns, which are recorded in the titles. They are from two very different rock formations, a marble upthrust and a deep blue formation which I have not identified, perhaps basalt. "Jaws", the golden marble formation, has a non-directional color variation, overlaid by a crisp straight-line fracture pattern. The result it much less complex and subtle than the granite patterns.

The last one, a work I have called "Drowsy Dragon", shows a formation with a deep color which appears at first to be unvaried, but does have color variation within narrow limits. The fracture pattern is similar to the marble but with more three-dimensional projections and cavities. The result is that form dominates, with color pattern as a grace note.

I suspect hat this is either turning you on or leaving you completely cold. What can I say? You have to respond to natural pattern in general, and to LOVE rocks.

"While watching a Dave Matthews Band recording, I was struck by the beauty of the African costumes worn by his back up singers. The ladies were stunning, and I knew immediately I had to make this necklace, called, "The Ladies"

I feel a tremendous draw to tribal patterns and ethnic colors. To me there is a universal connection to each peoples' experience of nature that expresses itself in primitive art. Regardless of who we are or where we are in our present physical being, I believe we all, as connected beings of One Source, have access to these images. I love that glass, as a very primitive art medium, continues to lend itself to endless expressions of color, pattern, and style.

This image is by artist Miriam West who sells her original artwork in Union Square Park in New York City. This is Miriam's livlihoood and for ten years, it was my livelihood too. I became an artist by selling my work on the street in Soho and then for the last three years until last summer in Union Square. I not only survived monetarily, I also made important contacts with galleries, publications and clients who now support me from all over the world.

Now the parks department, backed by Mayor Bloomberg want to sterilize our parks and limit the number of artists selling in the parks.

I encourage all of the artists on ArtId to visit this page and read about what is currently going on in New York City to banish hundreds of working artists (now called expressive matter vendors by the parks department) from our public parks and learn about the motives behind this attack.

I encourage you all to sign up and lend your support to keep art alive and well in our parks instead of replacing it with hot dog stands. After all, isn't this what makes New York, New York?

The city will vote on this on April 23rd. It is a violation of our first amendment rights and if the city gets away with this, you might find your rights are being violated next.

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=111357472221997

When I first joined artId.com, I was almost immediately challenged by another artist who seemed, by and large, much more experienced and knowledgeable about this whole thing called art than I will likely ever claim to be... He didn't seem to like my work and I really didn't like what he seemed to be trying to say to me about it. I evaded his remarks as best I could and I got rather defensive in return, to say the least. I didn't like what he was insinuating about my "art" because, at the time, it seemed like he was trying to tell me that all the elements of an innate ability are found within my work, but it seemed to me that he (more than anything else) thought my work lacked something. Talent, maybe? Or perhaps my work has something about it that seems unstudied or amateurish? I don't know exactly what it was that turned him off of it. His remarks made me think, though. I hate to admit it but it's true.

Before this confrontation I had my sails all set to delve into the waters of erotic art, which is something I have always had an interest in and I was just starting to feel brave enough to give it an honest go until I was challenged. I am not sure what it says about me, but in the end I didn't feel very courageous anymore.

Not one to be easily deterred, I moved forward anyway even though I was still a little rattled.

Over the last few weeks, I toyed with the idea of what I thought I might, as a painter, be able to convey in keeping with my original intent (to create erotic art) before the negative encounter in question reared its ugly head. What I discovered inside my mind was something close to fear. I found I didn't really have the nerve to take the notion of an erotic image too far any more. In essence, I was knocked down a peg or two. Maybe I needed that and maybe I didn't. Who knows?

Still, I thought a lot about the concept. I played around with some ideas. What I came up with was something rather subdued, rather naive even, if I am honest.

In the end, instead of going full-on crazy with the subject of erotica I decided to take it slow. I decided I wanted to convey what I personally find subtly alluring. I wanted to capture the essence of a certain moment, a visual observation, that affected me. This is where the concept for this newest painting of mine came from. I was watching Lord of the Rings with my husband over the Christmas holidays and there was a moment in the film where one of the lead characters leaned down toward the ground and his hair hung down across his face and his mouth was open just a little to reveal a row of blessedly normal (that is to say imperfect) teeth. Well, that moment struck me. Frankly, I thought it was beautiful in its own exquisitely masculine way. Quite beautiful indeed. I realized it was this kind of moment and this kind of feeling that I wanted to recreate. With this concept in mind I decided this painting would be my fledgling attempt into the world of eros.

I worked and worked on this painting for hours. At first, I was thrilled it was turning out so well. It was a pleasure to wake up in the morning knowing that this painting was waiting for me. Within a week or so it was finished.

Then? Fear set in. Criticism took over. I started to look at the painting through disparaging eyes. What if the guy with all the negative feedback is right? What if this is wrong with my paintings and that is wrong with my paintings? I no longer saw my work through my own eyes but through the eyes of a critic. It was (and is) frightening.

The more I thought about it the more I realized that if my style as an artist (and yes, I will go so far as to call myself an artist) falls short in the eyes of some, what can I do about it? Nothing. What I convey to the world in whatever form it is in is the only way I know. It is who I am. To alter my process or to alter my method of painting to please someone else would be wrong. I can't do it. Instead, I will work through the discouragement maybe for the better. Maybe for the worst.