A Purposeful Observer

Spring of this year was remarkably different. Winter was cold but tolerable then one day everything was green. The trees were covered in flowers and the ground was pink, white and yellow. As I bicycled around town I rode under a canopy of cascading wild wisteria that was so amazingly purple I had to stop and check it out. A few days later storms blew across Texas into the midwest and Appalachia causing untold destruction and loss. Thankfully the area in which I live was not severely impacted as far as I know. However, I noticed there was not a speck of color outside of green. The heavily flowered trees had been washed and blown. The tiny pink and white flowers that covered lawns and fields were drowned and washed away. I rode back to the wisteria cave and it had vanished. It made me sad to think no one had really noticed the flowers and colors and so did not notice their absence.

Wisteria vines growing wild | Gary Perrone

It has been a few weeks and some of the ground wildflowers have returned. Mostly the ones that can survive the summer and lawn equipment. I have taken to transplanting some of them from perimeter areas to my personal space and they seem to flourish. Yellow daisies, wild violets, pink phlox and a unique wild iris that only blooms for two weeks in one spot, every spring. So cool. I will not know until next spring if the pods I buried will emerge.

Tiny Wildflowers 2025 | Gary Perrone

This is not the first time I have expressed myself about flowers. I am not a florist and I am not really a gardener. I have a deep appreciation for natural beauty and I constantly seek it out. As an artist I have considered this and concluded if this is a subject that moves me to create a painting it must be important. Polemonicae is a tiny springtime wildflower that blooms in profusion. It can be difficult not to trample them. Much like the way people are being treated around the world.

I did not paint this picture in order to recreate the natural beauty of these plants. I studied the intricacy of the flowers and the grass which they were among. Unless one is on hands and knees it is a pink carpet. I was looking for energy, patterns and connections. I used a magnifying glass to ascertain these things and interpreted them in my own way.

When I first started painting with intent, about 25 years ago, I was overcome with enthusiasm because I believed I had found a way to visually express my stream-of-consciousness that was unique to me. Not a rehashing of wishy washy blandness or nightmarish dreamscapes, but the raw, basic element of thought. I painted with the speed at which I perceived my thoughts to race and I never painted over any area. Over the years my paintings have become more deliberate. They have become much smaller as well.

If I say my painting is allegorical I think Jacques Louis David or Eugene Delacroix would roll over in their graves. But it is true. My painting represents the idea that humanity is very much like the tiny wildflowers – beautiful yet vulnerable, desperate to survive, carelessly trodden and largely overlooked. They grow among invasive weeds and poison ivy. They harbor both butterflies and mosquitos. They get mowed away only to return next year. I relate to this.

Polemoniaceae | 2025 | Gary Perrone

Art does not mean the same thing to me today that it did in 2004 or even 2014. I do not know what art means to me at all. I have observed that Americans, in particular, do not seem to care one way or the other about art or artists except as decoration needs require, or a status symbol of wealth. Usually both. Frankly, I think Americans have become less creative because real creativity is hard work.

If you think my recent paintings are just a way for me to get lost in some meditative state you would be very wrong. If any of my paintings invoke a calmness in you or some kind of entrance to a deeper consciousness, that is accidental. My painting is borne out of frustration, cynicism and anger. I paint in opposition to thoughtlessness. My focus is on color, form, transparency and pattern. The natural reality of the flower is meaningless in the aggregate – a confusion from afar, madness perhaps, no differentiation of individuals. Just erratic patches of color.

Some days I firmly believe in my purpose as an artist and I cherish my painting sessions. Sometimes it is a drag and I think spending time on art is purposeless and wasteful. It is a fact that art is not regarded as a serious profession. More ambitious creative types can work at ad agencies, production studios and the studios of well-funded artists but they must learn to subordinate their personal artistic or creative ideas or figure out how to subtly work their ideas into their given situation. Otherwise, the purists are on their own. I wonder how the academic artists are faring, those who receive and depend on governmental grants in order to freely explore and develop their creative concepts at high schools, colleges and universities.

To me it would seem our democracy at large has taken a dark turn.

Somehow, America decided to allow a criminal to become President of the United States. And in his usual fashion, Donald siphoned off the easy money and gutted administrative agencies along with staff. He diverted congressionally appropriated funds to his own opaque purposes such as his vanity birthday parade. He seeks to strip the agency from Americans through authoritarian executive orders and sycophantic department secretaries and aides. It appears he wishes to assist in starting World War III.

As you read this Congressional leaders such as Mike Johnson from Louisiana are pushing Donald’s agenda, which unfortunately seeks to cut spending on vital social programs that largely assist veterans, seniors, the disabled, children the poor, the sick the hungry. All Americans. For what purpose? Evidently to fund the wealthy in their efforts to create a master class. Huh. That is what Donald means when he refers to “citizens of the world.” I am not sure why, but somehow I do not think this includes me. Personally, I do feel I am a citizen of the world in my own way. I am open-minded and intensely interested in world culture, art, music, food, language and politics. It does not matter whether or not you are “into” politics. Politics are in you and there is no purpose in political apathy. Everything a politician says and every legislation that is passed affects me and you. When people abdicate their civic duty the parasites and invasive species take over. Like the Trumps.

Polemoniaceae | Gary Perrone

So let me be selfish. This matters to me. I am going to be sixty-five and am being encouraged to start my application to Medicare. They have already prepared me that this service will most likely not be free although I paid Medicare taxes nearly my entire working life. As I paid into Social Security all those years I am now eligible to receive the benefits I earned. What our Congress and the Senate do this year matters immensely to me, as it should to you.

One other thing regarding politics and politicians, they have no creativity. They fundamentally lack imagination. I wonder whether they engage in any cognitive reasoning at all. Especially conservatives. They are so laser focused on being anti “woke” that they come off as uncultured. I hear their rhetoric and it is dissonant, hateful and vulgar. There is no sense of color, light or joy. The idea of having a parade of any kind without marching bands and musicians is really lame and boring. Like I said, no creativity.

The Trumps like to think of themselves as executive producers. Of what? Some new scam? Donald Trump ruins things. Full stop as they say, and he takes down those around him who end up bearing the brunt of his legal, financial and societal disasters. I find it unfathomable that the man has been given a second chance to ruin the entire country and possibly the world. Do I have “Trump Derangement Syndrome”? Are you surprised if I do? Really?

When I journal it is cathartic and it also summons episodes from my past. Not my romances or immature situations but momentous happenings in my career path that strike a chord deep in my soul, even to this day. In the late 1980s I was a freelance graphic designer. I had been involved with the cosmetics industry in New York City and the work I did centered on packaging, displays and such. I did creative work for a company that showed potential as a client. The CEO was a Frenchman who loved perfume and he announced the “major launch” of a new fragrance in honor of a world famous celebrity.

They invited me to participate, which I did with fervor. I presented designs, comps, sketches all of which they kept. Then the celebrated person got involved and the parameters changed. And changed, and changed. As if that were not bad enough, somehow Donald Trump became involved in the “major launch party,” which would be held at Trump Tower in Manhattan. It was at that time the client told me they did not think I was taking the project in the direction the celebrity wished and a new designer was assigned to the project. The consolation was they would be using several of my ideas like type treatments, color palettes and merchandising sketches. The launch party at Trump Tower was awful. We had to pay for drinks in the lobby and when the star arrived, she was immediately whisked up to the penthouse.

I did not stick around. I walked home embarrassed, wondering if I would be paid. I held a grudge and a bitterness that my psyche is inclined to nurture. Now, observing what has become of the presidency in this country, which I hold so dear I am soulsick. When I observe the cruelty, the insincerity, the greed I am soulsick. When I observe Donald and his scions casually flaunt their corruption and phony popularity I am soulsick.

So, what will I do? My right of free speech allows me to express my frustrations, socially and politically, and I intend to continue to do so, especially as these topics are woven into the fabric of my creative mind and my art. I have been a purposeful observer for a long time, if not vocal and it is a significant choice I make to publish my journal, unfiltered. Please leave a comment, good or bad. If you think I am full of shit, fine. I have days when I am brimming with anger and hate – I know how it feels to be outraged. Mostly, I live with peace and empathy. I try to be kind and understanding, but I will not be bullied. I know the hard work I put into my art as well as finding enlightenment. I think being thoughtful and precise are excellent qualities for all human beings and I am grateful that today no one is dropping bombs on our heads nor firing missiles at us. – GP

Side Effects

For many days I arose with Uvalde in my mind. I went to bed with Uvalde in my mind and indeed the crime that occurred there has invaded and consumed my thoughts for weeks. I was catching up on the news of the day when it was being reported and as the day progressed I thought about my first day of school.

I was among the first students to attend Dunn’s Corners Elementary School. I can recall walking to my first day in first grade with my brother who was in third grade. That was in September of 1967. The school was less than a half mile from home and I would make that walk every school day until seventh grade.

 
Watercolor painting by Gary Perrone

Study for new painting • Watercolor • 2022

 

My first days in public school made a lasting impression. I remember the way the building smelled when I walked in, the newness of it. I can recall the way the cafeteria smelled and the odor of school supplies. I did not know any of the other children but I was just as anxious as they were. By the end of that year we knew each other and many of us graduated from high school together years later.

Of all the things we had to worry about as children the threat of gun violence was not one. There were bullies but never a danger of someone walking in with an assault weapon and trying to kill everyone. Neither were there over four hundred million guns in America. We had three TV networks and public television was just emerging. By 1969 my toddler brother was learning to read and count by watching Sesame Street.

Killings and terror happened in other places. Far off places. We thought it could never happen here but over time we became radicalized and insensitive to violence. Now we eat up blood and gore in television shows, movies and games. We practice killing with joysticks and get lost in dungeons with our dragons.

When the massacre in Uvalde happened I was still reeling from the killing of innocent Americans who were grocery shopping in Buffalo. The year 2022 has been a festival for the violence-rabid among us. Even worse is to watch impotent and unwilling lawmakers dither over and deny common sense gun laws in the United States. It is excruciating to hear Texas leaders openly express their willful ignorance on so many consequential issues. Whether the subject is responsible gun ownership, equality, women’s rights, racism, protecting the poor and indigent, providing support to the mentally ill, you name it, Republicans and stunningly some Democrats are in opposition and denial. The stories from victims and witnesses have repeatedly made me cry.

 
Watercolor painting by Gary Perrone

Study for new painting • Watercolor • 2022

All of it depresses me. A few weeks ago I had a check-up. I told my doctor how I felt about these things and how they affect me. Her advice was to not watch the news. I told her I would rather not live in ignorance and unawareness. That doing so is precisely what will lead to the erosion of democracy and our fundamental freedom as citizens and humans. That before you realize, you no longer have the precious rights you once took for granted. Living in this state of existential uncertainty has an impact on my creativity. I do not know how other artists cope, what I can tell you is I find it difficult to paint blithe landscapes and wall adornments. I am entirely too angry and at times utterly hopeless.

Have I made you sad? You should be. Having your rights taken away to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness should be a big deal to everyone. That is why it is so important for each of us to be a Voter in every election and understand what the candidates who represent us stand for. Apathy on Election Day will be the demise of Our Democracy.

Ah well, I do not have to be happy to paint. I worked on the painting, Time from December 2021 through April 2022, nearly every day, sometimes five or six hours at a stretch. For me, it was a daunting project on many levels. Early on I worried it was dark and manic. While I worked I processed the things I was aware were happening here and around the world. Dark and manic things. Invasion and war. Disease, overwhelming poverty and suffering. Mass shootings and violent weather. I realized this painting was a reflection of my processing of those things and I had to accept that it was emblematic of my unhappiness.

Time is an acrylic painting by Gary Perrone

Detail of the painting Time by Gary Perrone.

It sounds like bullshit, even to myself but I can assure you it is not. And it is not like I painted furiously in a state of ire and outrage. To the contrary, I found I could not be distracted from the painting for a moment without making mistakes. I relied on music to give my mind something to grab on to that did not require the effort of thought. The painting was deliberate and intentional, not slow but determined. It was a diffusion of the negativity that emanated from the heart and soul.

I began the painting, Time just as Putin invaded Ukraine and led the world further into chaos. I could not believe what I saw. I thought my painting was going to reflect the previous year! The pandemic perhaps or The Insurrection. To be honest, the pandemic did not affect me as it did others. I got vaccinated and really did not see anyone nor travel. I wore a mask everywhere and did not let it nor isolation be an issue. The Insurrection was a different matter. It is an issue for America and will remain one until there is full understanding and accountability.

 
Hand-wrapped frames by Gary Perrone

Handmade frames and stretched canvases.

 

After I finish certain paintings, especially large pieces like Time I experience a reckoning. I cannot objectively tell you how severe this is as it is second nature to me. Often it is a combination of awe and disappointment. I see the result of my obsessiveness and I wonder why I could not paint something happy. I ask myself why I feel guilt and even shame for having spent the time painting this. I think it is a valid question considering I did not paint it for money. My painting made me uncomfortable because it revealed me. The shock to me was thinking I could hide behind abstraction. Now I see the painting as an object of unique beauty and presence. It is a record of my thoughts, mentality and action during a time of collective distress. In the grand scheme I think, who cares about this or any painting? To me, however it was a wonderful achievement. Time gone perhaps but certainly not lost.