Today I read Roberta Smith's review of Neo Rauch's show at the Met. What a great piece of art writing. She can really uncork it at times, and when she does it's great to read. I am a fan of Neo Rauch's work. I think it's strong painting, not great painting, but strong painting. And I totally agree with Roberta's list of sources for his work. Surrealism has won the day in painting, in fact, in all the arts, and that is a bit of a shame. One can never get to one's rawer emotions in Surrealism, it's always a game of mystical references. It is also part of the weakness in Rauch's work. There is no direct confrontation with the world he displays. There isn't any way to get at meaning or feeling. POMO's get happy about this. I do not. Still in Rauch's paintings you forgive a lot, because they are so well done. I disagree with Roberta about the color in these works. Yes there are browns throughout, but I think that is part of the point. They are rich and earthy in ways we do not understand here in the US. They are visually fecund in ways our landscape painters have not been able to capture in quite a while - (which is strange considering the lengthy history that landscape painting has had in American painting.) She then mentions a painting from 2002 and states that she is disappointed that he has not continued in this vein. I'll leave that discourse to others, but it is a very good painting.

I continue to be moribund in the studio. I got home after a long & difficult day-job day and took a hard look at my painting. I am desperate to find the element in it that will project how I feel about the idea of this work. I can not rely on old tricks, they do not convey where I want to go with this one. My work has been about intimate moments, but this is a bigger issue, and I've gone for a bigger size in order to convey it. This is not about intimacy (my work has always been addressed to the people I know - that is my strength & failing), but about emotion, and it must be convincing. I've worked larger in the past, but this is different, more public somehow, and it is larger than just my own involvement. I keep looking at Picasso and Michele for power, then sliding back to Delacroix and Matisse for balance. Yet I haven't found the link to my feeling. It's daunting and discouraging. Please forgive this missive, but putting it out there might clear my mind.