People talk about “escaping into nature” as if nature is the comforting thing…
But standing alone in Iceland at night under a moon like this, you begin to realize nature is the original deep end… and perhaps cities were invented by frightened people who wanted snacks and smaller skies.
“Wolf Moon” 8x10” oil pigment,stone,ash on linen
Custom distressed @kurianframe
When I was young, I liked the idea of ghost hunting.
I don’t think it was because of the Ghostbusters films, though that probably didn’t hurt. I’d go looking for haunted places the way some boys go looking for a pickup game…
I liked old dusty rooms, leaning sheds, woods at dusk, abandoned places where the air still felt a little occupied. I’d stand there with a flashlight and a heavy heartbeat, hoping for some evidence that the world was stranger than it looked in daylight.
Most of the time, nothing happened. Or almost nothing. Tiny coincidences, probably exaggerated by my imagination. But that was part of it too. I started to realize the line between what was out there and what was inside me was not as clean as people liked to think.
Years later, it occurred to me that all the ghosts I was searching for may have been in my own head. I wasn’t learning much about ghosts. I was learning about myself.
I’m still looking for signs. I just call it painting now.
#ericcaseybaugh #ecbaugh
The beaches in Iceland feel a little lonelier, as if they have never been surfed by a tan-skinned bro, or felt the splashing of little children’s legs being chased by their pet. They feel more like the first beaches that ever existed, still steaming from a recent and nearby volcanic eruption; the waves still curious about the black pebbles as if they are meeting for the first time. I’m not sure exactly why, but it felt right, even necessary to include the lone person in the foreground, as if they are speaking the same language.
“Lone” Oil study on linen mounted to panel 12x12”
Private collection
#ericcaseybaugh #ecbaugh
The day can be beautiful. Coffee tastes good. The sky is behaving itself. Someone you love is in the next room. And still, there it is... A little stain in the light. A small bad song playing somewhere under the floorboards.
Inexplicable dread.
Gurus talk about goals of bliss and total happiness in life.
But I sometimes wonder if human beings need a bit of this feeling of dread. Maybe because something in us understands that perfection is not the whole story.
Maybe dread is the tax we pay for being conscious… or maybe it’s the little shadow cast by awareness itself. You wake up, you look around, and for one strange second you remember that all of this is temporary, mysterious, and mostly unexplainable.
Or maybe a little fright makes the rollercoaster more fun.
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“Unknown Water” 30x36” oil on wooden panel
#ericcaseybaugh #ecbaugh
The old proverb goes, You can lead a horse to water….. We all know how the rest goes. A clean little lesson about decisions.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what a decision really is… A terrible hobby, by the way.
A lot of the time it feels like the body has already leaned before the mind even gets its pants on. Then consciousness stumbles in late, pretending it was in charge the whole time.
Now that AI is everywhere, the question feels stranger than ever. A machine can produce and answer. A person can produce and answer. One is written from 1’s and 0’s. The other is based on nature, nurture, an odd soup that no one really understands.
But is either one deciding? Or are we just obeying different kinds of programming?
The disturbing thing about AI is not whether it actually thinks, it’s that it makes me wonder whether we ever did.
I certainly like to think so…
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“ You Can Lead a Horse to Water” 9x12” oil on linen
Leaving the studio to its new home with a collector.
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#ericcaseybaugh #ecbaugh
Being an artist is a strange job…
A quiet, ridiculous attempt
to make color carry a thought.
Searching for truths you never fully understand.
But the hand knows things
the mouth would only ruin.
(Photos by @christosvayenas )
#ericcaseybaugh #ecbaugh
I watched the birds for an hour and a half, darting through the cold sea foam. The strange thing is, the flock became a black blur… a smear on the shore.
The waves keep crashing in one bird kept its own clear shape… the one at a distance, the one they called lonely.
I wondered, was this a tragedy, or victory?
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“The Shape of Distance” 8x10” oil on linen
Continuation of the Iceland series. Newly released from the studio.
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Video commentary by curator Christos Vayenas
#ericcaseybaugh #ecbaugh
The day can be beautiful. Coffee tastes good. The sky is behaving itself. Someone you love is in the next room. And still, there it is... A little stain in the light. A small bad song playing somewhere under the floorboards.
Inexplicable dread.
Gurus talk about goals of bliss and total happiness in life.
But I sometimes wonder if human beings need a bit of this feeling of dread. Maybe because something in us understands that perfection is not the whole story.
Maybe dread is the tax we pay for being conscious… or maybe it’s the little shadow cast by awareness itself. You wake up, you look around, and for one strange second you remember that all of this is temporary, mysterious, and mostly unexplainable.
Or maybe a little fright makes the rollercoaster more fun.
————-
“Unknown Water” 30x36” oil on wooden panel
#ericcaseybaugh #ecbaugh
