Jan Balet 1913-2009

20 08 2017




Henri Rousseau (1844-1910)

14 05 2017




Rick Beerhorst

5 03 2017




Paul Ozhgibesov

28 12 2015

 





John Harmer

23 11 2015





Daisy Clarke

24 07 2015

The moment a fairy tale move’s from light to dark, The sound of the wind through the pines, the sentience of animals, Far beyond the edge the cloud’s, What we fear in the dark and what lie’s beyond fear.

Saatchi Art Artist Daisy Clarke; Collage, “midsummer ball” #artSaatchi Art Artist Daisy Clarke; Painting, “sold” #art





Horace Pippin

10 07 2015

Horace Pippin (February 22, 1888 – July 6, 1946) was a self-taught African-American painter. The injustice of slavery and American segregation figure prominently in many of his works.

A Pennsylvania State historical Marker was placed at 327 Gay St., West Chester, Pennsylvania to commemorate his accomplishments and mark his home where he lived at the time of his death.[1]

He was born in West Chester, Pennsylvania, and grew up in Goshen, New York. There he attended segregated schools until he was 15, when he went to work to support his ailing mother.[2] As a boy, Horace responded to an art supply company’s advertising contest and won his first set of crayons and a box of watercolors. As a youngster, Pippin made drawings of racehorses and jockeys from Goshen’s celebrated racetrack. Prior to 1917, Pippin variously toiled in a coal yard, in an iron foundry, as a hotel porter and as a used-clothing peddler.[3] He was a member of St. John’s African Union Methodist Protestant Church.

Pippin served in the 369th infantry, the famous Harlem Hellfighters, in Europe during World War I, where he lost the use of his right arm after being shot by a sniper. He said of his combat experience:

I did not care what or where I went. I asked God to help me, and he did so. And that is the way I came through that terrible and Hellish place. For the whole entire battlefield was hell, so it was no place for any human being to be.

I love this guy’s work, his story telling, and his humility as an artist.





Henry John Lintott

27 06 2015

One of the wonderful things about ignorance is that you can fall across an artist whose work you like and know nothing about him. I know that Lintott is a Scot. As is my background in part. And that he is dead. As I am not. But other than that there is very little written about him. Some of his work is quite odd. Like some of his  industrial landscape pieces. But I like them. They amuse me.





Elizabeth Olds

26 06 2015

Best known for her lithographs addressing social issues, Elizabeth Olds was committed to the idea that art is democratic and should be within the intellectual and physical reach of all the people. She was also an artist in residence at the Yaddo and McDowell artist’s colonies, lived on Long Island and moved to Florida in 1971.

She lived to the age of ninety-five and was born in Minneapolis and attended the School of Art there. Then she won a scholarship to the Art Students League in New York City, where she stayed three years and was much under the influence of her teacher, George Luks, and other Social Realists.





Louis Vivin

13 05 2015

Vivin was self-taught and a representative of naïve painting. He showed great enthusiasm for painting as a child, but his career took him in a completely different direction: he worked as a postal clerk until 1922, pursuing his art only in his spare time.[2] Eventually, he was discovered by the German art critic Wilhelm Uhde (1874–1947), an association which helped him start exhibitions and build a reputation as a serious artist. When he worked in the postal service, his job was an inspector. Once he retired in the year of 1923, Louis Vivin finally took up the full-time part of being an artist.[3] His birthplace was in the city of Hadol, France. He moved to Paris, France in the year of 1889 where he lived with his wife in the district of Montparnasse.

There is something very calming about naive art. Like when I was a kid and we played with minature cars and trucks creating our own little worlds where nothing ever went wrong.