my art

Another commission of mine, this one portraying the oldest son of a doctor.  I found the boy in possession of a calm, restrained yet manly presence (in the good sense of the term).  His posture, clasped hands and demeanor suggest a thoughtful nature given to reflection.  Though the family lived in the city, I painted him as if in the countryside, freshly plowed field indicating seeds planted.

I once had a large garden, and to fence it in I used Zinnia seeds along the entire perimeter, and when they grew, formed a tight barrier.  Much to my surprise, no rabbit or deer trespassed to nibble on my tomatos, carrots, cucumbers, melons, and all the basil and parsley carefully cultivated.  In the early dawn hours as I watered the plot and pulled the weeds, four-footed and either floppy-eared or antlered neighbors would watch me but go no further, before disappearing into the surrounding fields...And to speak of the dawns—in that location they were pristine, quiet to the point of wind being at times the only sound, aside from the occasional meadowlark. Zinnias—oil on canvas

“I said to my own heart, “Why anguish?” and yet before that thought was fully shaped the rays that melt me were unleashed in full....” painting by EMH—oil on canvas

I once lived in an old country house—large and beautiful, very solidly built in plantation-style at the turn of the twentieth century by an ex-confederate colonel who emigrated north.  Money was not apparently an issue back then, from the finest oak to a gleaming white marble fireplace and carved and stain-glass windows on the first floor.  Originally it had a spacious veranda that circumferenced the entire structure, and a balcony on the second floor.  The rooms on the first floors were sizable and, typically for the time, had high ceilings—not the most comfortable design to mitigate the winter blasts of arctic air, nor the summer heat.  At least the views from every side revealed the greater expanse of open woodland and grassland, not to mention a distant, winding river once explored by Lewis and Clark. A long-standing rumor among the locals had it that the old colonel’s reputedly extensive gun collection had been buried somewhere on the property.  But the ...

“Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own...” I once had a special friend—not someone to have a conversation with, but a creature whose presence one could only appreciate, albeit at a distance.  Since I had a very large lawn both in front and back of the house, there was ample space for leisure on those quiet summer afternoons, and opportunity for all sorts of creatures to pass through or find food undetected.  However, nothing escaped the notice of my friend.  Whether rodents under the porch, or even the infrequent rattlesnake that tried nestle behind a trellis, it—or I should say he—was always vigilant.  At times, while I painted in my basement atelier, I could spot him through one of the windows as he took his “sunbath,” his well-articulated head almost resting against the glass.  On a certain warm and sunny day, my family and I found him stretched out on the front lawn totally unperturbed by our presence.  He even allowed us to measure his l...

Clouds carry far, far beyond... « On the Threshold « —oil on canvas

One day I received a call from, of all people, a rancher’s wife who enquired whether she could commission me to paint her son.  The family owned several thousand acres of grazing land, located near a wilderness where wild horses roamed.  It occurred to me to combine the area where the boy lived with elements of a wilder nature.  The boy himself was intelligent and highly alert, and familiar with the creatures that inhabited his countryside.  The portrait shows him in a moment of sudden focus, as if he is being called. Oil on canvas

Another of my portraits depicting children, also a commission.  The girl was a bit nervous, in particular not quite sure what to do with her hands.  After observing her for a while, I asked her whether we could go and pick some flowers, and suggested they be arranged in her arms.  She gave me a little smile, and then I saw how to proceed.  The landscape, I should add, reflects her German heritage. Years later, I received a call from her—she had seen my work on social media and wanted me to know that she had inherited the painting, and was so glad to have the work in her possession, not only  because she liked it, but also as it reminded her of a happy childhood. Oil on canvas