William Kosman - Artiste Peintre

Saturday, February 22, 2020

# 96 - Another Adventure - Lost in the Universe




          "Lost in the Universe"

Fellow Art Lovers:

It just seems that when I get an idea, I become obsessed with it and want to get as much out of it as I can. In my last post, I talked about linking painting and poetry, and I presented “Old Father Time” and a painting to illustrate it. Well, the idea has been bubbling up in unexpected ways. 

For the longest time, I’ve been fascinated by the universe – its beauty, its mysteries, its dangers and the fact that while we’re told that its infinite, it continues to expand. For me, this is even more interesting because we human beings, when faced with the endlessness of the universe, we still think of our own importance. Basically, how can we be important when we’re faced with this unending series of darkness, lights and colors?

So, I started out by writing a poem about the massiveness of the universe, but it sounded like a scientific description, and was – frankly – was not interesting. Then I changed the approach, and made it more personal. The poem – of course - is about me. “Lost in the Universe” is about me facing the universe in a strange way. 

Then, since I started the poem and the painting at about the same time, I began a process of cross-fertilization. I would write a few lines of the poem, and look at the painting I had started, and I would tell myself that I had to illustrate the concept contained in those lines. I’d be swinging my brushes from side to side, and new elements would appear in the painting. So, guess what. I realized that I had to add the concepts I just started painting in the written text of the poem. This back and forth went on for quite a while. 

So now, in the post, you can see both the written poem and the painting. 

And, believe it or not, this exercise has stimulated a bunch of new ideas for future paired poems and paintings. Also, I realized that I could write poems for paintings I had done in the near past, and that I had actually done the same pairing in some of my rap videos that I’ve already completed or planned to complete. 

Little by little, I’m going to do postings about these projects, unless someone sends me a note and begs me to cease and desist.  


          Detail from "Lost in the Universe"  

As you see, photos of the painting “Lost in the Universe” are in this blog, and below is the entire text for the poem. I have already recited the poem during a meeting of the Moonstone poetry group (www.moonstoneartscenter.org) Wednesday evening, Feb. 19, 2020, at Fergie’s Pub (1214 Sansom St. 19107, Philadelphia). There’s one photo here of me in front of the other poets and poetry lovers at Fergie’s. 

From my website (www.williamkosman.com), you can also use the links to access some of my other offerings. Also, I invite you visit my Etsy store (www.etsy.com - WilliamKosmanFineArt). And if you’d like to visit my studio, #310, 915 Spring Garden St., Philadelphia, PA 19123, please send me an e-mail at billkosman@gmail.com). 

As usual, if you have any ideas to share, of course I’d love to hear them. 

Thanks for listening. 

Best, 

Bill 


          I'm painting myself in "Mirror Play"
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        Yours Truly at Fergie's

Lost In The Universe ©

By William Kosman 

I had a dream the other night, 
A nightmare so scary I couldn’t make it right,
Dreamed I was lost in the universe,
Skating through the cosmos to find my way home,
But doomed to this endless space to forever roam.  

No rocket, no spacesuit, no air tanks to sustain me. 
No GPS, no maps or charts of the far-off galaxies to guide me.
How can I survive in this vast nothingness, so empty yet so full? 
Pushed back and forth as I pass the streams of light,
Eyes blinded by the shapes and colors so bright.  

How can I save my life with everything beyond my control?
How can I look in wonder at the beauty around me and save my soul? 
Sometimes in a dream you suddenly realize it’s all not real,
And you can mold your surroundings and choose your own actions.  
But with the colors and flashes around me there’s only distractions. 

A voice within tells me to gather my courage, 
To reach out and grab at the passing stars. 
Maybe I can cling to a planet, to my Earth. 
Maybe I can reach out and get home again,
But the courage doesn’t come to me, so I have nothing to gain.   

I look out into the darkness and try to conduct a careful survey. 
I’m looking for the planet Earth, the Moon, or even the Milky Way. 
But I’m too far, and I’m moving too fast. 
I look, I look, but I can’t see any clues.  
I know I can’t find any hints I can use.  

Show me what I have, tell me what I’m missing.  
I have to want them, and the desire has to be crushing.  
Give my family back to me, give my friends back to me. 
People are life, being with people is the meaning of life. 
Enjoying them, helping them, loving them, that’s life.  


Why is this happening to me? How could I deserve this hell?
I’m just a speck of a being, and my rising fear traps me in a prison cell.  
I have to look past my fear and examine my life. 
I have to turn my forced space exploration
Into a voluntary self-examination.

I remember I was really happy when I worked to help the needy. 
A friend and I used a loaded van to find the homeless in the city,
We brought them meals to get them through the night,
And fresh clothes to warm them and give them a chance to find work. And that warmth we felt when some returned to relate their success. 

If I want to get back home, I gotta pay the price, 
Think of the person I used to be, just think of my life.  
I used to help folks, the poor, the homeless and the old, 
So now, I have to dedicate myself to serving humankind. 
In the vast emptiness of space I see a plan for my future. 

I’m tossing and turning in my twisted nightshirt, 
I stumble to the floor, but I feel – surprise! – alert.  
I’m waking up to a new day in my very own bedroom. 
I’m back home, yes, finished with a trip I’m proud of,  
Back on solid Earth with the people I love.  

I woke up in the same warm bed where I started, 
And, okay, yes, my left hip somewhat smarted.  
But I’m dead serious about the promises I made to myself. 
Sure, it was only a dream, but it wasn’t just messing around. 
I was lost in space and now – just maybe – I’m found. 


Monday, January 20, 2020

# 95 - New Adventure - Connecting My Painting and My Poetry





         Here I am reading "Old Father Time" at Shakespeare & Co.
  
Fellow Art Lovers:

I have news for you. I’ve started connecting my painting with my poetry. That is, whenever a painting stimulates my poetry juices, I write a poem to explain or tell the story of the painting. Or it can happen in the opposite direction; a poem can send me to my easel with palette and brushes in hand.  

You have an example right here. Just a while ago, I wrote the poem – “Old Father Time” – and the beginning of the poem brought a flood of images of my youth to me. (The text of the poem is further down the page, following this introduction.) So, I decided to paint one of those images. (That painting, entitled “You Gotta Put In Trees,” which I’m still working on, is above.) In the coming months, I’ll post more blog entries showing other painting-poetry projects, in addition to new paintings that don’t have poetry links. 


         "You Gotta Put In Trees"

My poetry story goes back maybe year or so. Sonia Robin, of the Alliance Francaise of Philadelphia, suggested numerous times that I would enjoy the poetry readings at Fergie’s Pub (1214 Sansom St., Philadelphia), sponsored by Moonstone Poetry. Well, I finally went, and it was revelation. Here were dedicated poets – accomplished and amateurs – performing their works to a crowd of between 20 and 30 souls. The atmosphere was festive and supportive, as creative sorts swallowed hard, took their books, printed pages or smart phones and mounted a platform to test their courage in front of the crowd. 


         Larry Robin introduces me at Shakespeare & Co. 

Moonstone Poetry is the creation of Larry Robin, of Robin’s Book Store fame.  After he closed the book store, he threw himself into the support of poetry. Now, Moonstone Poetry (www.moonstoneartscenter.org) presents some 80 readings a year at four venues, publishes a growing number of poetry collections, and leads other programs - all to spread the wonders of poetry to young and old, to the accomplished, the professionals and other poetry lovers.  

I qualify as one of the mature, amateur poetry lovers. So far, I’ve attended maybe a dozen sessions, and I’ve taken advantage of the “open mic” three times to present a few of my works. On Thursday evening (January 16, 2020), I recited “Old Father Time” at Shakespeare & Co., (1632 Walnut St., Philadelphia). Larry was the host. One of the featured poets was John Wall Barger, who read from one of his recent collections, “The Mean Game,” and also took the photos you see here of me here. 


         John Wall Barger reads from his poetry collection "The Mean Game"

I’ve always had a strong interest in poetry, first of all because of my studies in English at the University of Oregon a very long time ago, and then more recently because of the rap videos I’ve written and produced, which you can see on my YouTube channel through the link on my website (www.williamkosman.com). Now, I just see more of my poems as subjects for paintings. I know that the question of combining poems and paintings could be an issue. One could maintain that each art form should stand on its own. But for me, once in a while, the combination just feels right. I don’t know how long these poems will keep coming to me. I hope for a long time. For the moment, it’s great. By the way, I’m sure that any of you would be welcomed by Moonstone Poetry or any of the other poetry groups in Philadelphia. 
   

         A detail from "You Gotta Put In Trees"

If any of you want to see more of my work, you can access my website, visit me on Facebook (William Kosman) and Instagram (williamkosmanpainter), and also please take a look at my new Etsy store (www.etsy.com - WilliamKosmanFineArt). And if  you’re really interested, send me an e-mail (billkosman@gmail.com) to visit my studio, #310, 915 Spring Garden St., Philadelphia, PA 19123. 

I'd love to hear from you. 

Thanks for listening. 

Best, 

Bill 

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 Old Father Time ©

By William Kosman 

Little streets with houses on them, my sisters and me, we made them all. 
Cereal boxes and tooth picks, colored paper, foil from Hershey bars, 
Just little kids all taken with creating a little world, 
Tiny fingers working, Elmer’s glue and Scotch tape, Mama’s nail polish. 
No guilt, no doubt, our little world that took over our minds.  
We worked, listening to the kiddy shows on the radio:
Pluck your magic twanger, Froggie, Hiya kids, hiya. 
It’s Sky King, Hummm. I’m back in the saddle again.

Old Father Time’s tracking me,
But he ain’t gonna get me, not yet. 
I’m runnin’ free, fast as I can.
I want those times again. 
No thoughts, no guilt, the pure pleasure, just free,
The mystery, the discovery, the warmth.

The warm sun, the gleaming blue, splashing in the pool,
Sherry jumps into the water, and you throw her into the air,
You catch her, and your hand lingers on her thigh, smooth, wet, golden,
Sherry laughs, and you catch her again, and again and again.
The plain pleasure, no thoughts, free.
Sherry grabs your hand, your lips brush, then 
Splashing, running, she disappears. 

Pluck your magic twanger, Froggie, Hiya kids, hiya. 
It’s Sky King, Hummm. I’m back in the saddle again.

Old Father Time’s tracking me,
But he ain’t gonna get me, not yet. 
I’m runnin’ free, fast as I can.
I want those times again. 
No thoughts, no guilt, the pure pleasure, just free,
The mystery, the discovery, the warmth.

Windows down in your custom Olds,
Wind in your hair, the feelin’s cool,
Gunnin’ your four-barrel, your pipes callin’ back. 
All the stupid stuff, Mel’s drive-in, red-lipped smile from Blondie,
A burger and a shake, you hear the hits, 
Your Hit Parade, “So long for a while.”

Pluck your magic twanger, Froggie, Hiya kids, hiya. 
It’s Sky King, Hummm. I’m back in the saddle again.

We met one night at a party in a chic suburb of Paris.
I was a bit drunk. How could she like me?
But after, together on the Left Bank streets, 
Immediate understanding, immediate ease, no pretending,
And she was beautiful, beautiful beyond my dreams. 
The waiter at the Claire de Lune kept filling her wine glass,
But I didn’t need any help. We knew it was good. 

Old Father Time’s runnin’, tryin’ to catch me,
You’re not gonna get me, you old fart.
I want those times again. 
No thoughts, no guilt, the pure pleasure, just free,
The mystery, the discovery, the warmth.
But if I can’t have it, I’m gonna remember it, 
Playin’ that movie in my head. 
Playin’ that movie in my head. 

Pluck your magic twanger, Froggie, Hiya kids, hiya. 
It’s Sky King, Hummm. I’m back in the saddle again.
“So long for a while.”
-0-

Text in italic performed in radio voice. 

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

# 94 - Contrast of Styles




Fellow Art Lovers:

If you’ve been following my work, you’ve surely noticed that I use several different styles or tools for painting: Generally for landscapes in Normandy, I tend to use a palette knife pretty often; and for Philadelphia urban scenes, more often than not I tend to use brushes. Also, in the past few years, I’ve built up my courage and combined the two, because each tool has its own special contributions and there are good reasons to combine them.   

In the last two paintings I produced in Normandy this past summer, I painted one of each – one exclusively with brushes and one exclusively with a palette knife – to see how much impact and emotion I can squeeze out of each method. 



“View from the Castle at Cruelly (above)." The castle of Cruelly is a beautiful structure, and I believe I’ve sketched it several times, although I don’t believe I’ve ever painted the castle itself. But what attracts me a lot is the view of the valley to the west of the castle, with its open fields, the rows of trees, the two smaller structures, the stunning sky and the Norman cows grazing in the field. 

I took the approach of a bit of realism along with some impressionistic freedom.  The three painting sessions of several hours each I spent on the stone veranda attached to the western side of the castle were blessed with sunlight and curious visitors with respect for my work. I love talking with passers-bye while I paint, when they make concise and insightful comments. And, as usual, once I made some decisions about my approach and I felt fully involved in the painting, my right hand didn’t need much instruction. I will admit, however, that I did get a little prissy when I worked on the Norman cows, because I want to make sure they were recognizable in all their glory relaxing in the shade of the nearby trees.    


“Cabins on the Beach at Saint Aubin” (above). I can’t count the number of times I painted the beach at Saint Aubin – certainly more than a dozen. But this time was different. I wanted a different approach that give me the greatest freedom to let me get the most out of my palette knife. (A secret: I have maybe a dozen palette knives, but I have a favorite that I used most of the time.) 

My approach was to simplify the scene, so that I could use the knife to enhance the painting’s surface and make it as interesting as possible. The aspects of the scene on the beach were ideal – with the sky, the rough tide hitting the beach, the jutting slice of land in the fog in the distance, and the white cabin in the foreground. One of the advantages of my palette knife is that I can work over the same section several times to add different colors without their purity blending into the initial paint layer. 

And in some instances, it’s surprising how much detail you can achieve with a palette knife.  But you have to be careful. Once, in a painting-supply store in Paris, I thumbed through a book about painting with palette knives, and the author’s approach was to try to do the kind of painting with a palette knife that you’d do with brushes. That’s not my approach, and I consider her approach wrong. For me, painting with a palette knife is a different experience, and the result you achieve can have a different kind of impact. The strategy is to use the knife for what it is best at.   

I don’t know which painting is the winner, if there is one. Each one should bring out the best possible with the tools I used. So here I’d like to ask for your help. If you have the time, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for listening. 

Best, 

Bill 






Friday, August 16, 2019

# 93 - Persistence on Canvas

                                                "Verdant Passage"    

Fellow Art Lovers:

You haven’t heard from me for a while, so, I want to show you some of the works I’ve produced while here in Normandy.  

Before I start giving you a few short explanations about each painting, I just tell you what I discovered while deciding what to write for this blog entry. I’m going to present three paintings, and in all cases, I just kept fiddling with them. Of course, all artists make changes so our paintings are as good as we can get them. And, the old saying says: “The hardest thing for an artist is knowing when to stop.” But this time around, I found my fiddling went on a bit longer than I remember any time in the past. 

I’ll let you decide on looking at the final, maybe, versions of these paintings. 

In “La Digue en Lumiere Douce" (below),” I wanted to simplify the people and the place, and I wanted to offer a new perspective. Why pink? On many evenings the sunset is actually a bright pink. I just carried the theme one step further. In this case, the changes I made were not outrageous. 

                                                      "La Digue en Lumiere Douce"

But with “La Mue a Reviers,” (Below), I not only made numerous changes, but the changes were fundamental. I’ve painted in the village of Reviers numerous times, but I had never realized the beauty of this scene – the colors and reflections of the Mue River, the stonework of the wall and the house, the foliage, the sky. My first version felt wonderful, but I realized the composition was all wring, and I scraped the paint off the canvas. The composition of the second version was perfect, but I didn’t like the surface. More scraping. On the third version, I took my time, and it was a lot better. Of course, I had to come back to maybe five or six times for this or that. What you see is the best I’m capable of. 

                                                       "La Mue a Reviers"

In “Verdant Passage" (Top of page), I wanted to play with the light coming through the trees onto the ground, with the strongest light coming through the opening around the woman, I wanted to show the different colors of the trees and the beauty of their leaves, and I wanted to have a strong focus on the woman. I did spend a good amount of time on the painting, but it was not unreasonable because I knew what I wanted to accomplish. 

I’d like to hear your reactions to the paintings. 

Thanks for listening. 

Best, 

Bill 

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

# 92 - A Must Paint Scene at Penn's Landing



                               "Penn's Landing" -This is the finished product.

Fellow Art Lovers:

What could be more of a dream for an artist than a scene that cries out – almost literally raises its voice: “You have to paint me”?  Such a scene raised its voice to me on Penn’s Landing, right between the four-masted sailing ship , the Moshulu, and the Cruiser Olympia. It’s a scene I’ve often walked by along the western bank of the Delaware River. But I hadn’t noticed the beauty of the ensemble - the reflections off the water, the line of yachts moored near the shore, the Benjamin Franklin Bridge and the far bank across the river. 

I tackled this scene several weeks ago. I set up my portable easel along with all of my painting gear, and I worked for about three and a half hours. Frankly, it was fun. It was sunny, but not too hot (oil paints melt in high temperatures), and a steady stream of art lovers stopped by to give me moral support. 

Then, in my studio, I worked for maybe another four of five sessions to finish the work. To be frank, I believe I could have completed the work a lot more rapidly, but I wanted to be loyal to my rule, which now seems obvious: “Never declare a painting finished until it is absolutely the very best it can be with all of the skill and talent I possess at that moment.”  

I want to show you major steps in the painting’s completion as I pushed forward with it.  Each step is labeled. By the way, the title of the painting is “Penn’s Landing,” and its size is 30 inches by 30 inches. 




1. Here you can see that I've sketched things out with the right proportions and composition, but I haven't decided on the surfaces and not many details are added yet.


2. I've added some details but I can see that the sky is wrong and doesn't add to the drama of the scene. One important thing: I'm feeling very good about the painting, and this good feeling is giving me a confident brush stroke.


3. I've added the reflections off the water, but the clouds are still not right. Also, the surfaces of the objects don't reflect the source of light, and I'm missing opportunities to add drama to a lot of the objects. 


 4. Here the sky is getting better, but a lot of little things need adjustment. Compare this to the final version, and you'll see a lot of small changes I made.


I hope this was interesting for you. Frankly, every painting session took a good measure of thought and just a little bit of bravery. 

Please feel free to offer me your comments. I always appreciate them. 

Thanks for your time and loyalty. 

Best, 

Bill 


Monday, February 18, 2019

# 91 - Good Street Vibes Really Helped "Best Friends"



The painting you’re looking at, entitled “Best Friends,” took a while to bring to life. While the first phases of the painting were – frankly – a wonderful experience, the completion was a little bit drawn out because I was distracted some other issues, one of which I’ll tell you about in just a few minutes. 

I began the painting at the south-east corner of Allegheny Avenue and Tulip Street, in between Interstate 95 and the Allegheny El station. I was facing east, and I could view the church steeples, the telephone poles, the traffic, the people on the sidewalk and a hidden sun breaking through the cloud layer. It was a beautiful scene, and as soon as I laid out the main elements, the act of painting was a true pleasure. (Please remember to click on the image to expand it.) 

But the surprise for me during my four sessions on the street was the interest and the respect of the people who stopped by to glance at my work and chat briefly with me. Without exception, they were friendly, interested in my work, supportive and helpful. When I asked several people to retrace their steps so I could sketch them into the painting and get their proportions right, or snap a few photos for later reference, not one person hesitated. And when I wanted to chat a few minutes longer, they were welcoming and responsive. One gentleman whose home is nearby just happened to have studied art and shared some helpful opinions with me.  

So, what does all of this this mean? Interacting with the people, experiencing their positive spirit – it all transferred positive emotion to me and helped my painting. Of course, this is no new revelation. But I’m just signaling it to you, and it was important to me at that moment. Picking up the right vibes must sink into my painter’s soul and send the right messages to my subconscious and pump out the right hormones, and voilathere you have “Best Friends.”     

The one element that was brimming with an especially positive aura and a visible love of life was the young woman in the foreground on the left. Honestly, she flowed off my brush, and I believe she adds a lot to the painting. 

Now some news: After spending about three years in Northeast Philly, I am returning to 915 Spring Garden. For those of you who have followed my painting for some time, and may have visited me at 915 Arts, you will notice that this was the location of my studio up until just a little over three years ago. And if you visit me at my new studio, which I hope, you’ll notice that the location has benefitted from an extensive renovation.  

Thus, the distraction was and still is for a while the preparation for my move. I should be fully installed toward the end of March. 

My studio at the Loom Annex on Amber Street in North East Philly was humble and provided a place for reflection and serious painting. Very important, the surrounding area was and is an inspiration, because I literally loved painting the people on the streets nearby. I want to thank the Loom organization for their help in assisting my move. 

And I want to thank the people of Arts & Crafts Holdings, owners of 915 Spring Garden, because of their welcome, their efficiency, and the improvements on a historically important site. Now, I will be returning to my old – but much improved - home. 

Thanks for listening. 

Best, 

Bill 

Saturday, September 29, 2018

# 90 - Interview for "Hope for the Homeless" Exhibit & More Paintings from France




                                         "Fishermen Cast off at Courseulles"

Fellow Art Lovers:

As you probably already know, my exhibit "Hope for the Homeless" in support for the Bethesda Project (www.bethesdaproject.org) begins Oct. 7 at the Manayunk Roxborough Art Center (www.mrartcenter.org).

Here are some details on that exhibit:

The exhibit will be up at the Manayunk Roxborough Art Center (MRAC) located at 419 Green Lane (rear), Philadelphia, PA 19128. The opening reception is on Sunday, Oct. 7 from 12pm to 3pm. The gallery will then be open Saturday and Sunday Oct. 13 and 14 from 11am to 3pm.  In November, the exhibit will move to the RoxArt Gallery, located at 6111 Ridge Avenue, with an opening reception on Nov. 2 from 5pm to 7pm and weekday hours from 10am to 6pm. 

For the exhibit, Esther Griffin interviewed me for the MRAC's blog. Esther has a website called Creative Questions (www.creative-questions.com), which she describes as "a no-nonsense online art gallery and blog for emerging artists." (She can be contacted at esther@creative-questions.com.). She asked some probing questions, and I thought I'd share my responses with you. Also, I thought I would take this opportunity to share a few more of my paintings from France.  

1. Question: How would you describe your art? 

Answer: In one way, I live in two worlds when I practice my art of oil painting. In one world, I paint urban scenes in Philadelphia, and I try to show brave people on the streets of the city, confronting life and trying to build a home and a good life for their families in often difficult circumstances. In the other world, I paint landscapes of the beauties of France’s Normandy region – the fields of various crops shifting in the wind, the stands of trees, the historic villages (almost all with a church steeple rising above the skyline) the beaches, the complex colors of the sea, and the wonderful Normandy skies. 

I love just letting myself go, letting my right hand take over, and then only guiding my brush when it comes to careful details, like those of  the human face.  

But in the last few years, things have been changing. Most important, I find my groove more easily. Real often, I achieve a painter’s high, and the forms, the colors and the mixes on the canvas seem to happen in the most natural way. Of course, this comes after some years of painting, when I’ve achieved a certain level of confidence and I feel that I’ve internalized many of the painting techniques I use. 

And then there’s content. More and more I want to get certain ideas across. In Normandy, I remain so struck by the beauty of the landscapes that I tell myself I just want viewers to feel the same emotion I feel in painting when they look at one of my paintings. And in Philadelphia, I want viewers to feel the same emotion I feel when I see Philadelphians and new immigrants, of different cultures and colors, trying so hard to keep it all together. 

Now, I see these two worlds converge. This past summer, in France, I’ve starting putting more and more people in my paintings - people working or enjoying themselves on vacation. The shift just seemed so natural. And while painting these people, my painting style has remained consistent. That is, I want to represent the people in a kind of rough-hewn, free style, getting beyond the niceties of their facades to their essences. 


                                "Vineyards at Gigondas" 

2.  Q: You take the lead in October with your exhibit titled "Hope for the Homeless," your art in support of the Bethesda Project. What's that project about and what make that project special to you? 

A: How many times do we walk down the street in Philadelphia, and we see homeless people, sometimes with a backpack at their feet or a shopping cart at their side full of their possessions? And how many times do they hold a hand out and ask for money for a meal?  Sometimes as we rush by, we don’t really pay attention to them. Sometimes we realize, ”There, but for the grace of God go I,” and give them money and tell them we hope our small offering helps. But all of the time, we know that a small contribution will make little difference in their lives and in the lives of so many other homeless people. 

The programs of the Bethesda Project are making a difference. Of course, one of the best places to learn about the project’s programs is on its website – www.bethesdaproject.org. As far as I’m concerned, what I find important is that the project’s programs are part of a unified strategy that includes meals, emergency shelter, but also help in finding and keeping long-term housing through rental and purchasing help, and also assistance repairing a home and paying utilities. And this help begins with individual counseling to identify underlying problems and find the best tactics to solve them. 

Of course, I believe that the Bethesda Project deserves our support. That’s the entire reason for my exhibit “Hope for the Homeless” at the Manayunk Roxborough Art Center kicking off on Oct. 7. So, I definitely believe in the project’s efforts. I know that this exhibit on its own is but a small contribution. But we have to keep trying. We, as a society, have to find ways to solve the problems that continue to deprive so many people of rewarding and useful lives.  


                                 "Trees Near Reviers" 

3. Q:  You paint both in Philadelphia and in France. Can you explain your connection to France?

A: In painting, I believe that real artists have to work hard and consistently to achieve a technical level where they can express their ideas and emotions. And the same consistent effort is necessary to achieve a level of confidence, so that when I take my brush or palette knife, I can add a strong stroke of color, without dabbing it little by little and – thereby – ruining its impact. 

But sometimes serendipity takes over. And that was my case a long time ago. If you were to ask me:  What’s this thing about you painting nine months in the year in Philadelphia, and then the tree months of summer in France? I have to credit serendipity.  It just so happens that, while in Paris a long time ago, lightening struck, and I became the husband of a French wife, my wife Catherine. From that moment on, my life became worlds more rewarding and also bi-cultural. While working in the States, we usually vacation with our children in Normandy. And during the seven years I was a reporter in Paris, we usually spent some time during the summer in my hometown of San Francisco. 

This connection to Normandy was a big break for my painting. I’ve been painting most of my life, earlier as a hobby and now as a profession. And while I worked as a journalist and later as a marketing executive, I often painted landscapes in Normandy. Frankly, my painting was okay for an amateur, but not impressive. Then, one day almost twenty years ago, Catherine suggested I try painting with a palette knife. Frankly, it was a miracle. Yes, I’m not the first artist to use a palette knife, but it transformed my painting. I mixed paint on my palette, and then I applied it directly on the canvas, most often mixing and blending it on the canvas itself. The experience was liberating. I felt a new freedom that I knew I would be able to apply to my painting in the future. I felt an ease and confidence. And, looking at the rich surface I was able to produce, I believed the palette knife was a method I could use to express the beauty in saw in Normandy.  

That summer, I painted about ten small paintings of specific landscape scenes, and took them back to Philadelphia. On my return, I showed them to the two partners – John and Paul – of the gallery on Philadelphia’s Pine Street, Show of Hands. They loved them, and my first gallery exhibit was a success. 

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I hope all of this is interesting to you. Thanks for listening. 

Best, 

Bill