Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Lemon No. 2

Jeffrey Hayes: Lemon No. 2
Jeffrey Hayes
"Lemon No. 2"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)

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Thanks everybody for all the great comments you've left over the past few weeks; I really appreciate all of them!

I'll be sending out my next newsletter in a couple of days; to get it, please sign up here.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Orange No. 3

Jeffrey Hayes: Orange No. 3
Jeffrey Hayes
"Orange No. 3"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)

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Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Pear No. 4

Jeffrey Hayes: Pear No. 4
Jeffrey Hayes
"Pear No. 4"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)

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Friday, February 12, 2010

Artichoke



Jeffrey Hayes
"Artichoke"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)
NFS


I don't normally set aside finished pieces to keep for myself. In fact, almost never. For a couple of reasons, though, this one has a special meaning for me, so I'll be holding on to it, enjoying it on my studio wall.

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

My Skin Cancer Experience

This has always been a blog primarily about my paintings, and less so about me. In fact, I'm generally reluctant to talk about my personal life here. However, over the past few months I've had an experience that I think is important to share, mostly because I feel it can help others.

I have a number of atypical moles on my body, and so for the last decade I've followed my physician's advice to have regular dermatology screenings. These were always routine appointments where the dermatologist looked me over, advised me to stay out of the sun, and then told me that everything was just fine. It usually felt like an annoying inconvenience. Since there was never a problem, I'd often thought about just skipping them altogether.

It's a good thing I didn't.

During an appointment in December, my dermatologist got visibly uncomfortable about one of the moles and asked if she could take a picture of it. She said it should come off within the next few weeks, which did not give me a warm, safe feeling. It was removed after Christmas.

She called a week later with the pathology results; melanoma, the most serious skin cancer. As you can imagine, it felt like the floor opened up beneath me, and I was falling into a deep pit.

Melanoma is a particularly aggressive form of skin cancer, and results in the largest number of skin cancer deaths. If not caught early enough, there are few treatment options available, and long-term survival is quite low. If there is any good news about melanoma, it's that it's completely treatable if caught early. That did seem to be the case with me, although there was still a small, but not negligible, chance that it had spread; about 3% to 15% , depending on the sources (though my doctors assured me that my odds were probably on the better end of that spectrum). The only way to know for sure would be to have surgery to remove an area of skin around the original tumor, as well as several of the nearest lymph nodes.

I had that surgery on January 28, and received the pathology results this past Friday. All the samples were clean; there was no sign of the cancer having spread. I should be fine. As my dermatologist told me when she gave me the initial diagnosis, I have a far greater likelihood of dying from something other than melanoma. It's an odd sort of comfort, but I'll take it.

I'm fortunate that I live in Boston and have access to some of the best medical care in the world. My dermatologist and surgeon are both wonderfully skillful and compassionate doctors, and I felt extremely well cared for. I'm not sure how they'd feel about me using their names here, so I'll just thank them anonymously, but from the very bottom of my heart.

Externally, the only things that will change about my life are that I now have several scars on my leg (still healing), and I'm paying very close attention to my health - in particular nutrition. For the next several years, I'll be seeing my dermatologist every three months for follow-ups, and I'll be viewing those as anything but routine.

Internally I'd say that more has changed. It was a full month from having the initial diagnosis to at last learning that everything was fine. During that time, I was living with the small but very real possibility that everything would not be fine, and I was compelled to look at things in a new light. Life is fragile, precious, and happens right now, in this moment, not in the stories I'm rehashing about 5 years ago or my plans for 5 years from now. I've always known this in my head, but now I feel it in my bones.

I'm grateful to have been handed this lesson, and to be able to walk away with it, relatively unscathed.

Now I've come to the real point of this story: If you or any of your loved ones have an unusual mole, particularly one that has changed in any way, please have a medical professional look at it at once. It could quite literally save your life.

Nothing - NOTHING - would make me happier than to hear that somebody read this article and because of it at some point got an early diagnosis and full treatment for their skin cancer.

There's no substitute for the good eyes of a doctor, but there are also many resources available online. Here are a few of them:
www.cancer.gov
www.skincancer.org
www.melanoma.com/
Although I've become most familiar with melanoma resources, I wanted to include a resource for non-melanoma skin cancers as well:
www.medicinenet.com

One more thing: I've been in touch with an artist friend of mine who has had similar experiences, and we've had an initial discussion about ways we can use our artwork to raise awareness and funds, perhaps through a virtual auction, or in some other way. As we work out the details, I'll of course be blogging about it.

So, I have every reasonable hope of painting for many years to come, and sharing the work with you right here. I'll be taking good care of myself, enjoying my life in the moment, and hope you all do the same.

Best wishes,
Jeff

Two on a Vine No. 2

Jeffrey Hayes: Two on a Vine No. 2
Jeffrey Hayes
"Two on a Vine No. 2"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)
Dimensions with frame: 8 x 8 inches (20 x 20 cm)

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First, I'd like to say thank you and welcome to the newest followers of this blog, and thank you to everybody who's been reading and following for a while; the interest truly means a lot to me.

I painted a very similar composition about 4 years ago, and always meant to do another. I'm glad I finally got around to it, and I'm pretty sure this is better than the first one.

Saturday, February 06, 2010

Stephen Pat Brown

I learned a few days ago that Stephen Pat Brown had passed away in October, so I thought I'd post a brief appreciation.

I never met him, or even saw any of his works in person. I've always admired his paintings from a distance, though, and for years my blog has kept a link to his website, which unfortunately appears to be down now.

His paintings - particularly his still lifes - were glowing marvels of the painter's craft. He had a way of seeing and handling the subjects that gave them a deeply concrete and at the same time other-worldly feeling. It was a very unique, personal, and profoundly authentic way of painting.

There are a few small galleries of his works online, here, here, and here.

As I mentioned, his website is down, which is unfortunate because his best paintings were displayed there, and apparently nowhere else. Hopefully at some point his family, friends, or students will find a way to permanently show his works online.

They deserve to be seen.

Friday, February 05, 2010

Work In Progress



Since I haven't shown any in-progress work lately, I thought I'd post an image of what's on my easel right now. This is an 8 x 10 inch (20 x 25 cm) still life, in oil of course. At this point, the underpainting is complete, and some of the final color layer has been applied.

I've been grappling with kind of an interesting issue as I've painted this. A couple days ago, it struck me that the composition actually reminded me a lot of the classical sculpture Laocoön and His Sons.



Though I've never seen it in person, I've been familiar with it since I was a child. Subconscious imitation is not out of the question at all, though there isn't really anything special about that. The question for me to decide is how explicit of a connection to make, for instance by calling my painting "Laocoön" or some such.

On the one hand, I did not set out with the the sculpture specifically in mind, and I don't feel like I have anything particularly compelling to say about it. These kinds of grand historical allusions can come across as insufferably pompous, and that's the kind of thing I generally shy away from.

On the other hand, it is kind of a neat reference, almost an artistic pun. The Laocoön is probably my favorite sculpture from antiquity, and I certainly did enjoy being able to draw a line between it and what I've been working on.

In any event, it won't be finished for a while, so I don't have to decide anything today. In fact, I'll get back to work on it...

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Two Food Studies

Jeffrey Hayes: Tomato
Jeffrey Hayes
"Tomato"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)

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Jeffrey Hayes: Red Onion No. 2
Jeffrey Hayes
"Red Onion No. 2"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)

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I'm really enjoying this series of small food studies I've been doing lately. They seem like the perfect venue to explore some of the things I'm interested in without involving more complicated compositions.

And they're just fun to do.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Lament for an Art Store



Pearl Paint in Cambridge is no more.

I read yesterday that 8 of the 16 Pearl stores across the country were closing, but the article did not mention what would happen in Cambridge, the chain's only store in the Boston area. Since I was in the neighborhood late this afternoon, I decided to stop by. Today was it's final day, and the doors closed at 6:30.

I arrived at 6:33, and was turned away.

As you can probably tell, I view this with sadness. I try not to get overly attached to any commercial enterprise that's not my own, but this particular store and ones like it meant a lot to me, and I suspect to many other artists as well.

A dozen years ago when I was just beginning to take up painting as a hobby, I bought some of my first supplies in this store. Over the years I would spend many, many hours wandering the aisles, deeply investigating the range of materials available. Sometimes the staff would be incredibly helpful. I remember a 45 minute conversation with one guy about additives that might give the gesso I was using for my panels a slightly greater tooth. And it was information from his own direct experience. All of this in an atmosphere that was shabby and bohemian, and at the same time serious and dedicated. Wonderful. As I moved progressively farther into deep suburbia, I got to Pearl less and less often, but it was still a very pleasurable stop whenever I was in Central Square.

Unfortunately the last few years have seen a number of these individual and smaller chain stores go under, at least in the Boston area. Obviously they simply couldn't compete with the online retailers and the large chain supply houses. The logic and numbers are irrefutable; there simply isn't much room or need for this kind of place anymore. I find that a minor tragedy.

Online stores are obviously great, and I use them often enough, usually for obscure supplies and products I can't get locally. But I also think it's extraordinarily important for artists - particularly beginning artists - to develop a real tactile relationship with their materials. I'm one of those artists who falls deeply in love with materials, and I think there's no replacement for the physical experience of opening the tube to actually see the color, hefting the palette to sense its balance, flexing the brush against your thumb to feel its strength and resilience.

I have nothing against Dick Blick or Utrecht. The available products are usually adequate. The staff generally are friendly and helpful enough. The stores themselves are clean, well-lit, and easy to navigate. And they're also very, very sterile.

For me, there was an undeniable romance in art supply stores housed in 19th century brick buildings with dirty skylights, narrow twisting aisles, dark piles and stacks of wonderfully intriguing things, and a subtle waft of linseed and turpentine on the air. There was always a palpable sense of magic, possibility, and exploration about those places. I'm not sure in exactly what way, but I believe that what I experienced in those old art stores as a raw beginner was actually quite important to me; it played some small and mysterious, but nevertheless real part in me becoming an artist. I'm not sure those particular experiences are available when an art supply store feels just like a Best Buy.

Everything changes.

Meanwhile, please support your small local art supply dealer when possible.

Pomegranate

Jeffrey Hayes: Pomegranate
Jeffrey Hayes
"Pomegranate"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)
Dimensions with frame: 8 x 8 inches (20 x 20 cm)

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This 8-year-old girl is searching for a bone marrow donor of Asian descent. Information is here.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Lime




Jeffrey Hayes
"Lime"
Oil on panel, 4 x 4 inches (10 x 10 cm)
Outer dimensions including frame: 8 x 8 inches (20 x 20 cm)

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