Communion with a Ghost
Take it as you will
5.27.26
9:41am
Seattle, WA, USA
Back in the US; Back in the US; Back in the USSA
Thank you, enormously, to those of you and everyone who came forward with your offers for HELP!, advice, ideas, or suggestions. The short version is: it all worked out. Of course it did. To the artists who replied, especially, your voices I heard a bit clearer and louder than others. The message was universal, some version of “that work is a masterpiece. Keep it in the frame. Ship it to yourself. Admire it when you’re eighty.” This is exactly what I did. Thank you, so much, to the client who unknowingly (until now) made this possible to afford, buying this painting at exactly the right time to the hour (thank you Colin!) to allow me to afford shipping Potatopuppy overseas in frame. Thank you, most of all, to Tessa’s mom Anna for receiving the work for me in Maryland, and finding a home for it on her wall as part of the yoga studio / healing space at Honey’s Harvest Farms. Rather than remaining in its shipping crate the work will be on display, for people to see and enjoy, which is my true heart of hearts hope for any of my work that resonates with people. Why lock it up in the dark forever when it can be seen?
A full wrap-up of all the miraculous yet everyday occurrences of the remainder of my time in London is owed but not due yet. The short version of it is - I am at home there. The contrasting culture around visual arts and artists could not be more stark between Paris or London and the USA. Here in the USSA the scarcity mindset dominates, and whatever I bring to art, the higher level I achieve, the more eager the surrounding atmospheres seem to want to limit me. Not their fault and I blame no one - it’s a subconscious cultural mindset - the limiting one - the idea that if I have more you have less… a bit absurd given how patently spacious the States are. Meanwhile, I’ve always believed there is more than enough to go around, and that a win for another artist is a win for me (plus, as I’ve said before, art isn’t a competition, making it into one is laughable), which seems to be more the attitude once you dip your toesies in waters abroad.
I found Europe to be inclusive, inviting, social, serious, playful, joyous, relaxed, spontaneous, rigorous, dedicated… and honestly… just more… fun. The small wins and advancements in each day, the conversations I had with strangers, new friends, celebrities, they came so fast and thick, every single day, that my conscious receiving mind could not keep track of their wonders. All I’m sure of is that I belong there, I am welcome there, I love it, for the people, for the art, for the intersection of both.
On my final full day in London, I’d done more than everything I’d come there to do, save one thing, a pilgrimage to 31 Tite Street. 31 Tite Street is address of the former studio of John Singer Sargent during his time in London, and also where he died (the outside of the building told me) on April 15. I wasn’t sure quite why, but I knew it was important to me to visit this place, so I did.
I could feel a presence there, standing in the street, imagining JSS walking the very same road, seeing the river Thames in gorgeous May evening light on a clear day, the warmth, the relief of being outside after a big day of studio portrait painting. I heard a voice - his.
Now, as you read, you can decide for yourself what you want to experience out of this. You can be an art historian and factually counter whatever assumptions my subconscious mind has made about the man and his work, or some similar version of “not enjoying yourself”, which seems to be really en vogue these days for people on the internets - OR - you can allow your mind to open to the possibility that we sometimes receive things from beyond ourselves, things we cannot explain or argue against because they are so true in the moment that the opinion of the world or even our own rational mind doesn’t matter at all. Up to you.
I felt, in that place, on that day, in that evening sunlight, a direct line of communication between myself and one of my most inspiring artistic heroes. I could speak to him, ask him questions, he could respond. Whoa! I didn’t want to carry this out in the middle of Tite Street, though. I had glimpsed, through the gap in the buildings at the south end of Tite Street, the pagoda at Battersea Park across the river, and below it, a small rounded hillside about 30 feet tall, littered with picnics but with plenty of space for more. I knew our conversation had to take place there, staring into the setting sun, writing out my questions, writing down his answers. “Take your time,” his voice spoke directly in my head, “when you’re ready.” And so I made my way by foot over to the nearest bridge, across it, to the hill, about 20 or 30 minutes of walking in itself, with plenty of time to get ready and braced to commune with a ghost.
And so, rather than give a full “here’s how I spent my mini-Grand Tour as an American artist guy in London” complete with details, instead, here is a conversation I transcribed for you from my sketchbook between myself and the spirit of John Singer Sargent:
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Saturday, 5.23.26, 7:24pm. Across the Thames from Tite St, Battersea Park Pagoda. An invocation of the spirit of John Singer Sargent.
Well, John, thank you for making the time.
Of course, my pleasure. What can I do for you? How can I best be of service?
Honestly, the greatest conceivable service I could ever ask for, you’ve already done. You have inspired me to no end, not only your work, but your living, all that I can find out about it at least.
Ah! I see! Well, I am happy that you’ve found my pictures and wanderings pleasing.
They’re so much more than that. I do have, aside from being such a fan, a question or two.
Fire away!
At the end of the day, after these big painting days, how do you unwind?
Oh, of course. Strolling outside, a cigar in hand, with or without company, I suppose nothing’s above that, is it?
On a day like this? Absolutely not.
Simply spectacular, just to walk, take in the air. And, of course, as you’re well familiar, music. Again, best enjoyed with company, but some practice alone will fare well, too. I do get invited to so many affairs (which hasn’t let off in the next world - more so!) So I take the air, the Thames, the leaves.
Of course. It must be great to get out of the studio.
Of course, of course. Have you explored Battersea Park yet?
I just got here, and decided to commune with you first.
You’ve got to. I think you’ll find it to your liking. Leisure without walls or gates.
Ok, point taken, but before I do, may I ask your advice, about my art, my art-as-career?
Yes, yes go on!
What I’d love to know is - am I on-track? Will it work out? I guess even as so many good things are coming, it’s been difficult lately to believe in more, in things I cannot see.
Isn’t that the nature of belief, young man? Listen - you are working hard. Why don’t you try believing in the work? The pleasures you enjoy are many - cherish them! Believe me, none of it lasts forever. I don’t miss the long studio hours, I don’t miss the galas… I miss walking in the park. I’d say I miss my friends but we’re all here, and quite a many new friend, too. Gary, for one! Wonderful man. Told me all about you. David - your work - it is brilliant. How many times do you have to hear it to believe it? Maybe you need to hear it from me! Well, there you are, it’s brilliant, and it’s been brilliant for quite some time.
Thank you.
I wasn’t finished! Ok, you’re worried “something” won’t work out… yet you are putting in the work, young man! Believe in the work! It comes from you! I know you, what would you do, stop or back off? Suddenly decide to be mean and ungrateful? I don’t think so!
Ha, definitely not.
No. And another thing - I had hand have so many wonderful friends and companions, and so do you. You love them; they you. If I’d left more letters you’d have felt it in ink. I applaud your journal-keeping. Writing was’t a strong suit of mine, but I believe it would have been fun in another life! Exploring that here has been good fun.
My friends make me feel so alive.
Yes! Alive. They remind us. Introspection wasn’t much for me. I love the exchange.
Yes - this trip has made it so clear how much I want to have my art be so much more social!
Yes! There’s nothing quite like it. For a moment there I found that spark in portraits, before it all became a bit routine.
Yes, I feel the exchange in and around the work.
Good lad! David, I’ve got to be off, you’ve got a sunset to take in.
Yes, thank you so much for speaking with me.
Thank you as well. You’ve got nothing to worry about! Stay the course. Your work is bringing out the best in people. Hold nothing back!
Thank you, be well.
Till we speak again!
