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“All the dogs barking can’t destroy the pleasures of lots of gesso and a good cigar.” -A Friend
I court the powers of pre-contact America, and the pagan deities of the Ancient World: Hermes, Dionysius, Cybele, Hecate. On warm spring days, I strive to recapture hints of the lyrical grace of Minoan Crete. On summer evenings, I trace unmapped energies of the heavens. In winter, I paint over a portable propane heater, which roars like a jet engine but offers little heat. Once or twice, my paint has frozen on the canvas.
My paintings generally move with calligraphic rhythm, primitive forms, and bright, often garish colors. Sometimes I fish languid and uncertain, and sometimes I boldly dive into the cenote. Monster or minnow, treasure or trash, what I bring back always surprises me. Lately, I have been attempting to rediscover ancient, affirmative psychic mysteries.
Over many years I have occasionally exhibited at the Edison Eye, the seasonal Bowman Gallery in Anacortes, and the Confluence Gallery in Twisp.
Like Odysseus, I find myself washed up boatless on this island… which is charmingly rural, healing, beautiful… with interesting characters… a good place to be and a good place to create.
© John Hurd