Monthly Archive for February, 2009

Global Warming and the United States of Denial

Global Warming Triptych, New Montgomery and Market, San Francisco, each oil painting about 4.5 ft square

Global Warming Triptych, New Montgomery and Market, San Francisco, each oil painting about 4.5 ft square

My father, Dennis Holdsworth, who was one of the principle developers of airborne radar in England during the war, introduced me to the concept of global warming in the late 50’s. In those days it was called ‘the greenhouse effect’. The long term effects were not as clear then as they are today, but the scientific community was already aware of an impending crisis.

So with more than fifty years notice, why has the world’s preeminent power still not grappled with this issue? Why have we, who have benefited the most from science and technology dragged our feet on  the issue of Global Warming?

Saul Landau tackles the issue in a hard hitting piece in the ‘progresso weekly‘ titled ‘The crisis unseen‘. He asks rhetorically if “…President Obama need(s) a ‘Department of Future Planning and Office of Dealing With the Crisis of Climate Change’ to assemble a team of thinkers to put questions to the public and challenge lawmakers to deal with the overarching crisis that threatens the future of life?” I think the answer to this question is a resounding ‘yes!’

But we need more than a government agency guiding policy at the top. In an age where science and technology are changing the fabric of life on this planet, citizens need to be educated in science and alert to the effects of our technology. Clearly science needs to be placed front and center in our public education and national discourse.

But there is another dimension.  Artists, whose role it is to open peoples eyes, need to address this issue in a way that will awaken people to the emerging reality. My Global Warming Triptych is my first effort in this direction. I’m following it up with Global Warming Triptychs for Oakland and San Jose.

Painting Workshop in Tuscany, Italy

Every other year I teach a painting workshop on a farm, near Florence in  the Tuscan countryside. The farm makes its own organic olive oil, chianti and grappa. Its young owners and  a mutual friend, Carla, cook for us most evenings.

Would you like to join me?

If you are interested visit  Classes to sign up.

Apart from these evenings of wine and conversation with, maybe, a short passage of Vasari, or Dante we explore Florence and other towns. I lived in Florence for nearly two years after the biblical flood of November 1966. I was Head of Outdoor Restoration for the Uffizi Gallery so I am very familiar with Italian culture.

And, yes we paint. Even beginners  bring home something of which they are proud.

More important: the act of painting encourages  an observation that changes and deepens our experience.

In 2007 several of us painted an abandoned farmhouse. It was typical of the farmhouses throughout Tuscany in the sixties. In those days these were thriving operations. Large families, oxen and other animals, market gardens, orchards as well as grapes and olives. Now they have mostly been turned into fancy homes. This one remained in its original condition and prompted some interesting conversations with locals. I cite one below:

it07casaweb1

August 30, 2007

Today another visitor stopped on a motorbike called Stefano – a gracious young man.

“Compliments! Especially for your colors that truly reflect reality…If I listen it seems to me that this traditional house tells the story of the generations who lived here. The seasons. The war passed right through here, you know.”

We talked about the economy that is weak in Italy when he introduced me to a new Tuscan phrase ‘to extend the broth’ (allungare il brodo). Talking about the thirty percent of Americans who cannot pay their debts, he explained that in Italy if a person couldn’t pay:

“The creditors take everything and don’t give any further credit. I understand that in the United States, on the other hand, they ‘extend the broth’. But it seems to me that you can only ‘extend the broth’ for so long because in the end it won’t be broth anymore.”

These words of Stefano seem prophetic today.

But before you are bummed out by thoughts of our looming depression and the loss of traditional agriculture in Tuscany consider this other conversation I had in Florence in Piazza Santo Spirito:
it07firenze2web

August 14, 2007

My friend, Carla, introduced me to an ‘aperitivo’ in the piazza. If someone buys a drink for three or four euros he has the right to take the food, simple but delicious, that is available. Every night there is a crowd of young Florentines here.

Today I met Lucca while I was eating at the ‘aperitivo’ a fascinating Florentine of around forty who talks rapidly accompanying all his words with gestures. He says that the Florentines have lost the greater part of the center of Florence to the tourists and merchants.

“Here in San Frediano there remains a vestige of the spirit of the old city. However, not even here remain many of the artisans of years past. One needs to go to certain neighborhoods in the periphery of the city or even further out to the small towns to find them. In those places there are people and collectives who want to create quality products in a calm environment. They work outside the global market and for this reason they can offer the products at low prices to the community. When the global market collapses, perhaps these groups can take over. I also have faith in the intuition of the youth. They’re great.”

Artisans working outside the global economy, the ’slow food’ movement, ‘agriturismos’ like the one we visit where a new generation can afford to continue farming: all these are indications that Italy, at the grassroots, is turning away from the consumer model that it has pursued, in its infatuation with everything American, since the last world war.

Those of you who have read this far might be interested in viewing my illustrated, bilingual book “Due Mesi in Italia e Istria, Two Months in Italy” online at lulu.com

Shoeshine at 13th and Franklin, downtown Oakland

“Interesting painting.” the old man said as I was working on this canvas today.

“Well it’s an interesting place to work. Shoeshine stands are like barber shops. Always good conversation.”

“That’s what I tell my friends. Forget the soaps on TV. Go to downtown Oakland: it’s a lot more entertaining.”

The old man is right and here are a few excerpts from my diary which prove it.

Shoeshine on 13th and Franklin St, downtown Oakland

Shoeshine on 13th and Franklin St, downtown Oakland

January 14th

I started my painting of the shoeshine stand today just a block away from the site of my last Oakland painting. Early afternoon a handsome, elderly gentleman sat down to have his shoes shined. Glenn had barely started when an older guy, a retired shoe shiner, came up and started criticizing his work.

“Not like that! You gotta clean em properly first!”

He began working on the customer’s other shoe. Two shoes. Two shoe shiners. Quite a sight. Glenn finally stepped aside and let him finish the job. The handsome gentleman stepped down and looked approvingly at  his sparkling shoes.

I’d only been partly attending the conversation but my ears perked up when I heard the retired shoe shiner say “…two Olympic gold medals right?”

“Right.”

” This man was the fastest man in the world at the Mexico Olympics in ‘68. He held the record for fifteen years. We both went to McClymonds High School here in Oakland.”

Turns out the man with the sparking black shoes was Jim Hines.

The conversation moved on to his running against race horses in ‘85.

“I won four out of the five races. The fifth race was at Golden Gate Fields. If I’d won that race I would have collected a large jackpot. But they set me up. You see I was supposed to run on a wooden track next to the horse. There’s no way a man can run on the same surface as the  horses at the track. But when I got to Golden Gate Fields they told me the trucks carrying the wooden track had been delayed. Delayed. Can you believe it? I lost that race. Golden Gate Fields got a full house and they never had to pay me the jackpot.”

January 20th

It’s Obama Day in Oakland. People are in a festive mood. There’s a preacher who stops by everyday. He’s explaining the numerical significance of Obama’s election.

“Forty years from Martin Luther King’s assassination to the election of Obama. We’ve been wandering in the wilderness like Moses for forty years, but our time has come.” He goes on to cite the forty days and forty nights that led to Noah’s flood.” Then on to many other instances that illustrate the significance of this number. His numerological musings become abstruse, talmudic. My head starts to spin and I turn all my attention back to the painting.

Feb 3rd

Today, just back from Clearlake, I hurried out onto the street to continue the shoeshine painting. I’d been interrupted by rain and couldn’t finish it before I left. I was hoping to put Glenn in the picture but neither he nor his stand were here. People told me he wasn’t here yesterday either. Someone suggested he might have gone to visit relatives in Chicago. How am I going to finish this painting? A shoeshine stand with a customer already in the seat and no shoeshine man. I suppose I could title it “Waiting for Glenn.”

Feb 4th

I phoned Blade, the barber, this morning. His business is a couple of doors down from Glenn. He told me Glenn was back so I returned to my site. While he posed I asked him where he’d been.

“I was asleep.”

For two days?”

“Yeah.”

Turns out he wasn’t feeling so good Sunday night so he took a Tylenol and a Vicodin to relax and go to sleep. The preacher arrived as he was explaining this to me.

“Did you know Glenn just slept for forty eight hours?” I asked him.

“Yes, I had to tell him what day it was this morning. He thought it was Tuesday.”

Painting at Ceago Vinegarden

For a year and a half I have been painting a series at Ceago Vinegarden on Clear Lake. Completed six years ago the vineyards, gardens and winery were designed, planted and built by Jim Fetzer with the help of his son Barney, as well as a contractor and four or five workers. The buildings are Jim’s  interpretation of Mission architecture. Substantial and  beautiful they give the impression of having stood here for generations. The Mission flavor of the buildings and gardens is tempered by an imaginative but natural eclecticism that evokes memories of Provence and Italy. Walking from the main courtyard to the long dock on the the lake one passes through a large field of lavender which is bounded by a stands of hundred year old olive trees. The vertical accents of cypress trees are used to great effect throughout the property. Behind the vineyards the cypress are interspersed with the blue-green whorls of agave. This bio-dynamically farmed property sets a standard of beauty that makes me wish the whole shoreline of Clear Lake were subject to such mindful development.

I’ve included a couple of excerpts from my diary to give you a sense of what it was like working here .

ceagoduo09

1.28.09

This morning I was painting a view through an opening that overlooks the entrance to Ceago when Jim called me over. He indicated the white head of a bald eagle glinting from the crown of a tall oak. Jim says they come in winter to fish the lake. He thinks they are nesting around here somewhere.

In the fields this afternoon I could hear the beat of ‘banda’ music on a pruner’s radio. I couldn’t see them through the vines. They’re still half a field away. I’m set up in the same location I worked a year and a half ago when I painted the grape harvest. It’s a different scene in winter. In place of the exuberant foliage and bunches of grapes there’s a delicate tracery of reddish vines among rank on rank of poles and guy wires. The two paintings will make an interesting contrast at the exhibition.

"Geago Vineyards during Pruning", oil on canvas, 18" X 40", 1.2009

"Geago Vineyards during Pruning", oil on canvas, 18" X 40", 1.2009

1.30.09

The pruners have reached the rows where I’m painting. There’s a strange twanging sound. It’s the sound of them pulling cut vines free from the metal guy wires as they advance up the rows from the direction of the lake.

Ramon, the supervisor, has agreed to pose as a pruner so I can put a figure in the painting. The other workers joke with him. There is something surreal about his standing so still while they move quickly from vine to vine. After he’s posed he brings over the orange water container and hangs it in my view.

‘That’s so everyone can see we give our workers water.”

The full series of paintings will number about twenty-two. They will be exhibited at Ceago Vinegarden next September. Until then none of them are for sale.

For further information about Ceago Vinegarden log on to: http://www.ceago.com



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