Lucretia

Who knows if this painting will ever find a home. It is the story of Lucretia, raped Roman wife of a general, who over throws the Etruscans, in vengeance of his wife's rape and suicide, and then establishes the Roman republic. I liked the paintings by Rembrandt (in Minneapolis and the National Gallery in DC) and wanted to produce my own version of the event, but how I hate having to explain the story behind this painting. She's in pain. OK.
This could be the painting with the most emotional impact I've ever done, and it's pretty much homeless. Too painful to hang in someone's home or in the library. There are some fine passages around the mouth and hands - as pretty much for the entire painting.
If there's anything discouraging at times about being an artist it is the suspicion that all my best work can be had for a small sum - and my very best work is unwanted.
But who doesn't feel that way - it's part of the creative enterprise. The world is filled with creative people - or people creating something. I remember once, in New Mexico, at a bed and breakfast, being corralled into a conversation with someone who was very excited about what he had learned to do. He elaborated his technique to me, how intricate and involved. How it satisfied some inner ache of his soul - and how he thought it could be profitable. When he finally showed me what he was doing I was speechless: he was doing those howling coyote in silhouette pieces - works indistinguishable from what I had seen in tourist kitsch stores all over New Mexico. He had simply copied the design and done them in some material that was used for spackeling stucco or pool installation. yet he was very proud of what he was doing; I could tell he had a real enthusiasm for the process, and yet I felt a despair plunging inside me like a weight dropped into a maelstrom from a great height. I realized that we were going after two totally different things.
One dilemma of creating things is that you're just a single bit in a very large pool of creators. All you can do is try to make what you do as singular and full of quality as possible, displaying a dexterity of imagination and a depth of feeling, and a willingness to try something unknown, to work with courage. For the most part the world of creators is dense and the thought that your tiny boat might negotiate its way among the tankers and freighters, the shoals and ice bergs, to some successful rendezvous is overwhelming. Might it happen? Sure. Should you be upset if it doesn't? no. To me that is a difficult no. I feel that with the Lucretia I painted a large yes that has received a large no.