Liquid Mediums

Last weekend I stayed at the house of an old surfing buddy, Kent Woods, who is also an accomplished artist (see the painting he made for me below). Aside from our early days spent as big wave gladiators, we also played in a rock band together. We wrote many surf tunes and recorded them in my small recording studio during the 80’s.

One night while reminiscing about the old days we broke out the guitars and began playing some of our old compositions. The energy in the room was so pervasive that another friend soon joined in the jam. It had been a long time since we played together, but we all went to sleep with smiles on our faces that night.

As I contemplate old friends and my love of the ocean, sensations swell and memories flicker. Impressions of sand between toes, salt drying on tight, sun-baked skin, soft winds cooling dripping wet hair in the summer heat, eyes squinting to shards of light dancing off waves, deepening the crow’s feet of a seaman’s gaze, muscles weary, stomach growling, and total contentment.

It’s hard to explain how much surfing has impacted my life and art. To this day I remain spellbound by that liquid medium. But why? Is it the transparent primordial soup of Adam’s ale? The random hypnotic motion or calming thunder of breaking waves? Or, is it my own involvement in that ever changing medium. I tend to think it is the latter. Indeed, participation in the aquatic dance is a microcosm of life itself. Searching the horizon for swells, like scanning the future for new opportunities. Judging where a wave will break and paddling to the right spot, akin to proactively positioning oneself, rather than waiting for good fortune to arrive at one’s doorstep. The quick paddle and rise to one’s feet, while maintaining balance in an ever-changing maelstrom, even as swift action, courage, and composure assist us in a world that continually throws us curves--ever adjusting, ever adapting, and enjoying the ride.

As with all things, competence requires preparation, but our greatest enjoyment occurs when life, love, and work becomes intuitive. Like playing music impromptu, jamming with other musicians, and feeding off their energy. Herein we dance in rhythm with life--graceful, in tune, coordinated.

While art is often mounted in a fixed frame, the process is not still life. Creation is a living involvement in a liquid medium. So one is lead to ask, “Is the real beauty contained in a frame, or in the artists themselves?"

My Friend the Butterfly: New Hard Cover Version

My Friend the Butterfly is an illustrated short story about a little girl named Suzy, who befriends a butterfly she calls Willow. One day Willow disappears, leaving only an egg on a leaf. Suzy returns day after day to observe the transition from egg to caterpillar, caterpillar to chrysalis, chrysalis to butterfly. When the butterfly opens its wings Suzy immediately notices the resemblance to her old friend. She realizes that Willow was the young butterfly’s mother. They become fast and permanent friends.

This simple children’s tale teaches several things on various levels. On the surface it engenders scientific curiosity about insects, change, and reproduction. On a social level, it reveals the beauty of friendship, and mother daughter relationships. On an emotional level it helps children learn to move beyond the pain that comes from separation, like when friends move away, or when loved ones depart this life. Philosophically it encapsulates one’s own growth, becoming, and purpose in the cycle of life.

My Friend the Butterfly is the first book from the mother and daughter team of Wendy & Susanne Ahlman. Susanne, who is eight, provided all of the illustration, and helped her mother Wendy write the story. Wendy is an educator, who runs her own preschool. Her special gifts include more than advanced teaching techniques; she actively instills social integration, emotional nurturing, self-esteem, and personal enterprise. Susanne is a prime example of these efforts. By the time she was two, Susanne had mastered all the letters of the alphabet, including their sounds and characters. Her love of learning continues to motivate her in all her academic and creative endeavors. She loves to help her mom Wendy teach the younger students in preschool. This book is the first of many such works from this mother-daughter team.

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Now Available in Two Formats:

Hard Cover (full color version) 11 x 8.5" for US$49.95

Soft Cover (full color version) 8 x 6" for US$24.95

These new editions can be drop shipped directly to your home or sent as a gift to another. The print on demand process also allows the purchaser to include a special dedication and/or short message to the recipient at the bottom of the title page, (only available on hard cover edition.)

For example:

Our Deepest Condolence:

Dear Jane, We love you, and grieve for your loss. May you find peace in the knowledge that your mother endures in the lives she touched, and especially in you.

Shipping cost US$9.95 virtually anywhere in the continental United States.

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Organic Synthesis

In the Early 90’s, my ongoing study of nature led me to some new aesthetic insights. Living in the shadows of majestic mountains which hang like a tapestry right outside my front door, I had long marveled at the random quality of rock formations which created such incredible beauty: the layered colors of uneven earth and strata, the crooked course of cornice and crags, the arbitrary formation of fissures and faults nestled in the soft undulating contour of erosion deposits. Howbeit, every defect, blemish, and erratic shape added to the splendor. I appreciated the freedom and subtle forces which created such asymmetry--that nature was resplendent with random irregular qualities: billowing clouds, smeared refractions of light painting the atmosphere, the torn edge of terra firma, patchy textures, irregular shore lines, marbled colors, knotted trees, twisted roots and branches, skewed arcs, choppy figures, and inconsistent spacing of prominent objects. Yet in the dualism of decay and growth I knew there was an organic order: ratios of phi, the golden mean, pentagonal forms, platonic solids, etc.

It then dawned on me to emulate these subtle organic forces on the canvas. In this experiment I retired the brush (save to spread water on the canvas, or drip paint). Herein, I resolved not to allow the brush to push, pull, and dictate the spread of pigment. Instead, using acrylics and the synthesis of airbrush, water color, drip, and splatter, I used the force of gravity, inertia, air, heat, and evaporation. Herein the viscosity of mixing pigment became crucial and added another dimension to the process. Another important technique was the layered approach moving from background to foreground, and adding a white mist with the airbrush between each successive layer to create atmosphere and appropriate tone. Oddly, the fact that I was not in complete control added an unexpected sense of awe. I found the process exhilarating, and the net effect glorious. (see examples above--from left to right: Tao Garden, Winter Firestorm, Emerald Mist). I called this technique, "Organic Flow."

Yet this experiment taught something more than technique--it was almost philosophical. I realized that the cosmos itself was a medium wherein all colors ran free, and yet the aesthetic beauty of the universe evoked more wonder and awe than any straight line scribed by human invention. Indeed, the fresco of creation is governed by subtle forces of natural attraction, not by brash domination, personal ambition, and narcissistic control. Still I wondered, what could bring all the myriad elements of the universe together in harmonious order? To this day, I can think of no other force greater than Love.