Never thought of myself as an artist, and though I have been called many things, artist has not been one of them. Thao, on the other hand, is amazing with traditional oil paint. Always nice to catch her off guard in her studio.
Bluebonnet Forest
The art and stories of Thao
Bridging the Era
Few of Thao's works require interpretation. The landscapes, seascapes, wildlife and portraits which are often her focus can be enjoyed simply. That is not to say that her work carries no symbolism. This stream is fed from a well known spring called "The Blue Hole". It is flowed for millennia. On one side you will find a timeless sanctuary that has no equal within a thousand miles. Across the stream is the University of Incarnate Word. What Thao will tell you of this work is that there is a bridge connecting the two sides. Is it finished? I don't know. You decide.
At the Edge
Along the East Coast of the eighteenth century, the early colonies constructed a series of forts for coastal defense, collectively known as the East Coast Coastal Fortifications. These were the guardians of the nation soon to emerge. While some have been lost to time, others have been preserved as parks and historic landmarks. This particular fort anchors a small park near Salem, where the humble stone walls have survived the weather and change for hundreds of years. The vivid colors, though unexpected, faithfully capture an early autumn day in 2019. Here you may still find a peaceful quiet trail weaving a path under the trees in the narrow edge between the ocean and the earthen embankments.
Waiting on Victoria
We are getting older. The hustle and bustle are gradually slowing. On occasion there is now time to sit beside the ocean, listen to the water, and just think. I still spend too much time thinking of the cares and concerns of this world while reminding myself to stop. If only for a little while. For better or worse, as I get older, it will become easier to just let go, lay down my burden and rest on the edge of the Pacific in the cool fall breeze of Victoria.
Family
I didn't ask permission when I cut the paper from the sketchpad and mounted it in a frame. Thao was away working her other job. The right hand edge has a rough spot where my hand faltered with the knife while trimming. Thao will forgive me, most likely. My family know my defects. And though they gently remind me for my own good, they accept me. In many ways, Charles is family too. He may have defects, but I don't see them.
Thorn of Patience
If you dig through my files, you might find a similar painting of a red cactus. Similar, but different. This one is better. It's also the same one. Thao started this one perhaps three years ago, and it hung on the wall of my bedroom for a couple of years. I hung it vertically, not knowing the intended orientation. Thao never forgot the painting, and never said anything about my mistake. Then three weeks ago she moved it to her studio and began work again. It was finished quickly once work resumed. Her patience has been rewarded. But I still wonder if it is finished.
Reflections of Fall
There is always more to the world than a simple snapshot in time can capture. When I look at this one, I see my dear friend Dr. William Helms walking through the forest with his camera in hand. His picture inspired Thao to immortalize the early Colorado fall as nature bends the colors of the trees.
Hoisting the Colors
Thao likes to revise her work until she feels that she has got it right. The problem with that process is that it leads to works which will probably never be complete in her eyes. There is a variation of that process which involves creating a new version after declaring a work good enough. I like the second variation better since we get to enjoy two good works instead of one! To encourage that outcome, I keep an amply supply of blank canvases of all sizes on hand. Hoisting the Colors is a tribute to the magnificence of the sunset on St. Pete's shore, and it is perhaps a smaller version of Eventide. In many ways the same, and in many ways different. I'm wondering if there will be another.
Eventide
The evening comes to all of us at some point in time. It's usually a very personal thing. Sometimes feared. Sometimes accepted. But rarely do we see it through the eyes of grace and call it a thing of beauty.
Lowvelts of North America
Patience. Not always my virtue. The reflection of the light and the glossy finish say "this paint is not dry". A better picture could be found by waiting, but I've waited long enough. Oil paint dries slowly with time measured in days. Thao has always had a talent for vibrant sunsets. With each passing year her colors seem to get a little more vibrant, yet my camera skills cannot do it justice, even if I had more patience.