Short answer: yes, probably.

Honestly, I’m surprised it took them this long.  And by them, I mean the City of Houston or whatever subdivision of the city (department of transportation?) received the contract.  Whatever municipal subdivision it is, my sense is that they probably have a handful of unfinished projects currently stagnating all over the city that they should attend to first.  

Imagine having 10,000 incomplete commissions in your studio (all of which you’re obligated to complete), and then you say yes to another one.  Some version of that is surely what is happening here; however, I lack the bureaucrat-speak, nuance, and frankly, the personal investment in this city to care to learn more.  Nevertheless, someone is getting paid.

The point is:

The Writing was on the Wall.

And everybody knew it.  For the last few years, but especially in the last few months, many of the conversations I had with both artists and passersby at Houston Graffiti Park were centered around acknowledgements of the impending conclusion to this public art haven.  

That acknowledgement also fostered a sort of reverence and appreciation for Graffiti Park in a way that unified people, much like how the art did. This one square block was a true anarchic refuge in a city obsessed with rules, regulations, right angles, and beige colored walls. 

I mean, c’mon.

Can people have one true space to express themselves? One where you don’t need approval from the neighborhood HOA to change the color of your front door, or a permit to shoot a music video while taking a colorful graduation photo?

Nope.

The Uniting Power of Art.

That was my ultimate take-away from participating and experiencing Houston Graffiti Park after all these years.  A lot of the paintings were bad, some were really bad, but what always impressed me was that the people who enjoyed the space didn’t care.  All types of people: Houstonians, out-of-towners, really every single demographic of person, would come visit the park and take photos in front of the colorful walls.

To witness this phenomenon for years served as a concrete reminder of the power of art to unite.  The murals really did bring all types of people out, and they didn’t really seem to care about the quality of the work either.  

As an opinionated art snob from the East Coast, I always found that detail to be very interesting.

My First time painting at Houston Graffiti Park…

…was as soon as I first moved to Houston in 2017.  I hadn’t developed my studio painting or oil painting practice, and I was hopelessly obsessed with painting walls, murals, and illegal murals (graffiti?) because I didn’t have any other painting outlets at the time.  I would ride my bicycle around the city (As my readers know, I still ride my bicycle around to paint), looking for spots.  Needless to say, when I saw Houston Graffiti Park for the first time, I knew I would paint there and probably went back that same week to do so.

I don’t even think it was called Houston Graffiti Park yet; it was mostly referred to as the Meridian, and you could still go in the building.

I didn’t know any painters in Houston at the time and a local muralist who saw me painting (whose name I will not name) approached and told me that some crew held down that section of the wall (the North facing side) and that I was going to get my ass beat for painting there.

“Okay, thanks dude, I’m already halfway done with this piece.”

I didn’t care, I finished my piece.  The ultimate irony, however, was that I ended up becoming friends with “that crew” of painters years later and would continue painting that same north-facing side for almost a decade.

My Second, Third, and Fourth Times Painting

These were slightly less memorable, probably between the years 2019-2022, and not worth spilling too much digital ink over.  At one point, I was fixated on painting dog heads on human bodies (don’t worry, this was a short-lived phase, picture attached).  I also remember painting a composition on the far right-hand side of two teens in some abstracted city-scape environment.  

I can’t find a picture of that painting, and I’m very okay with that.

The point is that this was a place to experiment, to explore, and to push creative limits without any of the stresses and pressures that often come with painting in the urban environment.  Houston’s Graffiti Park was not the most formative space for me in my early painting career, but it was an important one.  And it saddens me that these new generations of aspiring wall painters will not have a “safe space” to practice, experiment, and diss the murals.

Because, after all, there are really so few places to do that.  This city, this state, and really this country as a whole are so rigid and uptight about the act of putting paint on the walls.

My Macro-Culture Graffiti Rant

I’ll keep this one short, but I set myself up too well not to express this point: most of the rest of the world is more open to putting color on walls. Period.  Even other “Western cultures” like Western Europe are more open to it.  For example, tens of kilometers alongside the highways coming in and out of Paris are lined with absolutely fire letter-based graffiti and characters.  

This is unfathomable to the American mind.  And don’t even get me started on the countless miles of trackside train line graffiti and high-level piecing that connects the entire European continent.  And that’s just uptight Europe.

The Latin world is on an entirely different level.  The notion of graffiti as being an “illegal act” doesn’t even necessarily exist.  Think about that.

All around the world, kids (and adults) can take to the streets (to varying extents) and explore their creative impulses without risking their freedom.  This isn’t the case here in the United States, nor in Texas, and no longer at Houston Graffiti Park.

What’s next for Houston post-Houston Graffiti Park

Honestly, I have no idea.  Less sweet graduation and car pictures in front of colorful walls.  

Less diverse groups of people crossing paths each weekend as a result of an innate and shared interest in public art.

Fewer public, legal spaces to paint, which does matter to me and my comrades on the front lines hustling murals and pushing our creative potential.

This is, after all, just one more underdeveloped patch of earth being squeezed for all that it’s worth.  One thing I do know is that it will be replaced by something less memorable.  One less thing to do when you visit Houston.  

One less place to flex your wip.  (wip or whip? – If you know, leave me a comment.)

But the people will prevail.  Houstonians will find new and creative ways to express themselves in the subconscious pursuit to find meaning in the concrete jungle that is Houston, Texas.

The post A Love Letter to Houston Graffiti Park appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Ambitious Beginnings

At the beginning of this year, I decided I would aim to paint 100 plein air paintings here in Houston, Texas. Within the first few weeks, the over-ambitiousness of this project became immediately apparent. To hit 100 plein air paintings, I would need to execute approximately two paintings each week for the entirety of the year.  

My (Revised) 2025 Plein Air Ambitions

I decided to scale it back to 50 plein air paintings this year, and that felt more manageable. Simultaneously, I had also set this goal without owning a car. All my Houstonian friends and comrades know this city can be quite challenging, to say the least, without one.

I’m not from here, and for that reason, I still have the stench and entitlement of the East Coast on me, where I grew up not needing or wanting a car, but over time, I’ve had to let that go, adopting the axiom:

“If you can’t beat them, join them.” (aka go into debt)

Nevertheless, innovation comes from limitations. So, with a still ambitious (albeit less ambitious) goal of 50 Houston paintings and no car, I had to improvise to traverse the city.

Without boring you with details: I bought a back rack from Houston Bicycle Co., attached an inordinately large milk crate to it, and voilà. I more or less had enough real estate on the back of my bicycle to schlep the most essential painting supplies.

My Plein Air Painting Kit

My very utilitarian, no-frills plein air kit consists of:

• A very average tripod
• A very not average (in fact, really awesome) easel, or pochade box, made by Ugo Plein Air
  

I really do love this product. Some years ago, I had initially bought the small size and quickly grew out of it. You’re quite limited in the size of the structure you can paint on, and the palette is very small, at least for an amateur plein air painter like myself, to manage.

All that to say…

I bought a large Ugo Plein Air easel, and I haven’t looked back since.

This piece of equipment fits seamlessly into my backpack alongside:

• Gamblin oil paint
• Brushes (organized in a neat little protective brush carrier)
• Gloves
• Paper towels
• Maybe even a little viewfinder (assuming I don’t forget it in the studio)
  

Last but Not Least

Let’s say you make a painting you love. I’ll be honest, this happens very infrequently, but if you do accidentally make something good, you need to be able to transport it back home safely.

This is where I got lucky, and the pieces fit together seamlessly.

I have a large plastic bin that my panel, or in this case, my Arches oil paper, fits into. What’s amazing is that this plastic bin fits perfectly into the aggressively large milk crate I described earlier.

This way, once my panel or paper is painted, I can:

1. Put it in the bin
2. Put the bin in the crate
3. Put the backpack with all the painting stuff on top of it

Double voilà.

I’m set up for success in case I need to ride 10 miles back home without damaging my painting.

Plein Air Painting Gear: Check!

We’ve explored the gear and some of the material logistics that go into executing this type of painting mission in Houston.

Now, the somewhat anticlimactic part: I didn’t even end up riding that far to execute this mission.

I happen to live very close to Rice University, so I essentially just rode across the street to the front of the campus (which faces Hermann Park) and painted in the small grouping of woods they have in front of their campus.

A Real H-Town Forest

Despite my proximity to this location, I was quite intimidated to paint such a dense scene. It’s impossible to paint nature tree-for-tree or branch-for-branch in this type of setting. The landscape must be interpreted, and therefore it’s important not to get too lost in the sauce or in the weeds (whatever your preferred metaphor).

Practically speaking, I implement this into my painting practice by making sure I look at my canvas (or in this case, Arches oil paper) more than I look at the scene itself. This is really important. I feel that when artists work from photos, as I have with these portrait painting commissions, they often look at the photo more than the actual painting and thus don’t scrutinize the painting as such.

Fast and Loose

Because I kept the Gamblin paint really thin with Gamsol and painted really loose, I was able to immediately establish an interpretation of the scene, aka, my own painting, as opposed to tethering myself to each detail, which would have made for an absolutely tedious and failed painting.

In the plein air painting video, you can see how my sketch starts very free and loose, as in, there is not one single mistake that could be made (and thats fun!). From there, I started mixing colors freely and blocking in all the white space.

For me, the very first thing I want to do when beginning a painting is:

Remove all white space.

This way, I can start judging the relationships between values and colors against themselves, not against the white of the canvas. If I have lots of white exposed, then every color I put down will look very dark in relation to that bright white, and it will throw off the entire key of the painting.

The Rest Is (Art) History

I blocked in the painting, got rid of all the white space, and tried to interpret the scene as I experienced it while not getting too lost in the paint sauce.

I spent approximately 90 minutes on this painting, ultimately refining and refining until I was happy with the product. Mind you, this is ultimately to live as a sketch, not a finished piece. If I had been in love with the composition (which I wasn’t), I would have taken this piece home and used it as a reference for a larger, more finished work.

However, I didn’t feel too attached to what I created here and was very happy to leave it as a sketch to live in infamy in a notebook that will only be opened about once a year.

Thanks for tuning in, happy plein air painting! 

The post Houston Plein Air Bicycle Painting appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Aryz’s War Mural: Beauty in Chaos

Welcome to this week’s Painting of the Week! Today, we’re diving into the brilliant work of Catalonian artist Aryz, whose contributions to the mural and public art scene have been nothing short of groundbreaking. If you’re even remotely familiar with large-scale urban art, chances are you’ve encountered Aryz’s vibrant, thought-provoking pieces. This time, we’re focusing on one of his most fascinating creations: a large-scale mural installation set in what appears to be a cathedral. It’s a masterpiece that blends beauty and brutality, challenging how we perceive depictions of war.

A Symphony of Tension: The Contrapposto Technique

The heart of Aryz’s mural lies in the use of contrapposto, an ancient technique used to create tension and dynamism in art. Traditionally applied to human figures, Aryz reimagines it on a grand scale, playing with directional elements and architectural forms.

In this piece, the upper half of the composition sweeps your gaze one way, guided by dynamic planes and flowing lines. Meanwhile, the lower half anchors you in the opposite direction, with roof shapes and shadows pulling your eye downward. Together, these opposing movements create a visual push-and-pull that mirrors the chaos of war. It’s a brilliant way to reflect the unsettling, disjointed nature of conflict—subtle yet deeply effective.

War Through a Beautiful Lens

At first glance, Aryz’s mural is stunningly colorful, almost inviting. You might find yourself captivated by the vibrant palette and intricate design. But take a closer look, and the true subject of the painting comes into focus: war. This isn’t just a pretty mural; it’s a depiction of violence and destruction—a town being bombed.

What’s fascinating is the emotional distance the painting creates. Despite the grim subject matter, the use of bold colors and abstract forms keeps you at arm’s length. It’s like viewing a devastating event through the safe filter of a screen. Aryz captures the unsettling feeling of witnessing horrors from afar—aware of their gravity but untouched by their immediacy.

A Modern Take on the Horrors of War

Aryz’s mural brings a unique perspective to the ongoing theme of war in art. Unlike traditional works that confront you with raw, unfiltered brutality, Aryz offers a more reflective approach. The beauty of the mural draws you in, while its deeper meaning keeps you questioning.

This duality feels especially relevant today. We live in an age where we’re bombarded with images of global crises, often consumed on screens from the comfort of our homes. Aryz captures that strange mix of engagement and detachment perfectly. His work asks us to consider: How do we process the horrors of war when they feel so distant from our reality?

The Cathedral Setting: A Contrast of Sacred and Profane

The choice of a cathedral as the backdrop for this mural adds another layer of intrigue. Cathedrals are places of worship, peace, and reflection—so juxtaposing this setting with a scene of war creates a powerful contrast. It’s a reminder of how war invades even the most sacred spaces, leaving no place untouched.

Aryz uses this setting not just as a canvas but as a storytelling element, blending the serenity of the cathedral with the chaos depicted in the mural. It’s a thought-provoking clash that invites viewers to reconcile these opposing forces.

Why Aryz’s Work Matters

Aryz’s mural stands out not only for its aesthetic brilliance but also for its conceptual depth. It challenges traditional notions of war art, offering a new lens through which to view conflict. By blending beauty with brutality, Aryz forces us to confront our own emotional responses to violence. Are we desensitized? Are we too far removed? His work doesn’t provide answers but encourages us to reflect.

In a world saturated with images and information, Aryz’s mural is a timely reminder of the power of art to cut through the noise. It invites us to pause, look closer, and think deeper about the stories we see and the ones we tell ourselves.

Closing Thoughts

Aryz’s mural is more than just a depiction of war—it’s a commentary on how we experience it in modern times. With its vibrant colors, intricate design, and profound themes, this piece is a testament to the artist’s ability to innovate and inspire.

As you step back from this mural, take a moment to reflect. What emotions does it stir in you? How do you reconcile its beauty with its brutality? Aryz doesn’t just create art; he creates conversations—and this mural is one that will stay with you long after you’ve seen it.

In Aryz’s hands, art becomes a mirror, reflecting not just the world around us but the complexities within ourselves. And that’s what makes his work truly unforgettable.

The post Painting of the Week Episode 12: Aryz appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Jasper Johns’ Flag: A Revolutionary Work of Art

Welcome to this week’s episode of Painting of the Week! We’re diving into Jasper Johns’ iconic 1954 piece, Flag. At just 24 years old, Johns created a painting that continues to challenge and intrigue art lovers worldwide. It’s a work so famous that even if you haven’t seen the original, you’ve probably encountered one of its many iterations—or something inspired by it. But what makes this painting so iconic? Let’s unravel the layers of meaning and craftsmanship behind this quintessential piece of post-war American art.

Is It a Flag, or Is It a Painting?

One of the first things you’ll notice about Flag is its intriguing contradiction. Is it a painted flag, or is it a painting of a flag? Jasper Johns would say it’s both—and that juicy paradox sets the tone for the entire piece. It’s not just a clever visual trick; it’s a philosophical question wrapped in red, white, and blue.

Johns wasn’t the first artist to play with these kinds of ideas. Marcel Duchamp had already pushed the boundaries of art by taking everyday objects and putting them in an art context, forcing viewers to reconsider what art could be. But Johns took this concept further by turning something as familiar as the American flag into a platform for deeper reflection.

A Mirror for Your Thoughts

What’s most fascinating about Flag is how it interacts with you, the viewer. This isn’t just a painting you look at; it’s a painting that looks back at you. Depending on your perspective, Flag can evoke a range of emotions and associations.

You might see cheeseburgers, fireworks, and the American Dream—or you might think of imperialism, systemic issues, or even recent events that challenge notions of freedom. Johns’ work functions like a mirror, reflecting your personal feelings and experiences. It’s not just art; it’s a conversation.

In 1954, this was groundbreaking. Post-war America was grappling with identity, politics, and its place in the world. Johns managed to capture that uncertainty in a way that feels timeless. Even today, Flag invites us to question what symbols mean and how they evolve over time.

A Masterpiece of Craftsmanship

Beyond its conceptual brilliance, Flag is also a masterclass in technique. Johns used encaustic, a method involving colored beeswax applied over newspaper, to create this work. If you look closely, you can see layers of texture and hidden words from the newspaper beneath.

The painting was constructed on three wooden panels, giving it a tangible, almost sculptural presence. It’s not just a flat surface; it’s a layered, physical object. But while the craftsmanship is impressive, Johns’ real genius lies in how he transcended technique to create something deeply thought-provoking.

Why Flag Still Matters

In our image-saturated world, it’s easy to overlook the profound questions Flag raises. But take a moment to really engage with it, and you’ll see why it deserves its place in the canon of contemporary art. It’s not just a painting; it’s a challenge to think critically about symbols, identity, and the power of perception.

At a time when symbols are often taken at face value, Flag reminds us to look deeper. Whether you see it as a celebration, a critique, or something in between, Jasper Johns’ work remains as relevant today as it was in 1954.

Art That Starts Conversations

One of the reasons Flag is so enduring is because it doesn’t give you answers—it asks you questions. What does the American flag mean to you? How do your personal experiences shape your interpretation?

Johns turned a universal symbol into something intensely personal, and that’s the magic of his work. You don’t have to be an art historian to engage with Flag. Its power lies in its ability to speak to anyone, anywhere, at any time.

Jasper Johns: The Visionary Behind the Canvas

At just 24 years old, Jasper Johns wasn’t just creating art—he was reshaping the way we think about it. Flag wasn’t just a painting; it was a statement, a question, and a reflection of a changing America.

Johns’ willingness to challenge conventions and embrace ambiguity has made him one of the most influential artists of the 20th century. And with Flag, he didn’t just capture a moment in time—he created a timeless work that continues to resonate.

Closing Thoughts

Jasper Johns’ Flag is more than an artwork; it’s a cultural touchstone. It invites us to question, reflect, and engage with the symbols we often take for granted. Whether you see fireworks or flaws, freedom or fragility, Flag holds up a mirror to your thoughts and emotions.

As you walk away from this painting—whether in person or through a screen—remember this: great art doesn’t just decorate the world; it challenges it. And with Flag, Jasper Johns gave us one of the greatest challenges of all.

The post Painting of the Week Episode 11: Jasper Johns appeared first on Max Lowtide.

David Alfaro Siqueiros: A Revolutionary on Canvas

Welcome to this week’s episode of Painting of the Week! We’re diving into the compelling world of David Alfaro Siqueiros, a man who brought revolution to both art and politics. Siqueiros wasn’t just an artist; he was a revolutionary through and through. From his early days fighting in the Mexican Revolution to his stint in the Spanish Civil War, his life was a whirlwind of activism and creativity. Imagine painting massive murals while planning political uprisings—that was Siqueiros.

The Most Radical of Los Tres Grandes

Siqueiros was one of Los Tres Grandes, the trio of Mexican muralists that included Diego Rivera and José Clemente Orozco. You might recognize Rivera as Frida Kahlo’s husband, but let’s focus on Siqueiros, the most radical of the three. While Rivera and Orozco were groundbreaking in their own rights, Siqueiros stood out for his unrelenting political engagement. His activism wasn’t just a footnote; it shaped his art. At one point, he even led a failed assassination attempt on Leon Trotsky while juggling state art commissions. Talk about multitasking!

The Torment of Cuauhtémoc: A Masterpiece of Emotion

Let’s talk about the mural that’s stealing the spotlight today: The Torment of Cuauhtémoc. Painted in 1950, this work portrays the last Aztec emperor’s suffering at the hands of Spanish conquistadors. Even if you’ve never heard of Cuauhtémoc, the painting’s raw power pulls you in. The foreground’s anguish is palpable, and the stormy backdrop feels almost biblical. It’s a battle of good versus evil, rendered in a way that’s both accessible and profoundly moving.

What makes this mural so effective? It’s Siqueiros’ use of simplified yet dramatic imagery. The scene is easy to understand, even if you know nothing about the historical context. Siqueiros’ approach democratized art, bringing it to public spaces and making it accessible to everyone. Before muralists like him, art was confined to the walls of the wealthy. Siqueiros shattered that norm, creating massive works that spoke to the masses.

Echoes of Goya: Dehumanization and Humanity

If you’re familiar with Francisco Goya’s The Third of May 1808, you’ll notice some parallels. In The Torment of Cuauhtémoc, the figures on the left are deeply humanized, evoking empathy and sorrow. On the right, however, the conquistadors are dehumanized, almost robotic. Their rigid, machine-like forms contrast sharply with the visceral humanity of Cuauhtémoc. Even a snarling dog in the scene seems to have more personality than the oppressors. It’s a stark commentary on the loss of individuality and humanity in the face of systemic brutality.

The Power of Scale and Texture

Standing in front of this mural is an experience in itself. Located in Mexico City’s Palacio de Bellas Artes, the painting’s immense size immerses you completely. The texture and scale are overwhelming, pulling you into Siqueiros’ world. However, the space’s limitations mean you can only view portions of the mural at a time. This close engagement forces you to confront the details, from the anguished expressions to the turbulent skies. It’s visceral, aggressive, and utterly unforgettable.

Art as a Political Weapon

Siqueiros didn’t just paint for aesthetic pleasure; his art was a weapon in his revolutionary arsenal. His murals reflected his ideals, offering biting critiques of colonialism, capitalism, and oppression. The Torment of Cuauhtémoc is a perfect example of this. It’s not just a historical representation; it’s a searing indictment of injustice, past and present. By placing his art in public spaces, Siqueiros made his message impossible to ignore.

A Legacy of Radical Art

Siqueiros’ work reminds us of the transformative power of art. He didn’t just depict history; he made us feel it, question it, and grapple with its consequences. His murals are as relevant today as they were when he painted them, challenging us to confront the inequalities and injustices that persist in our world.

As we continue exploring Siqueiros’ life and art in future episodes, keep this in mind: art isn’t just about beauty. It’s about truth, struggle, and, ultimately, change. Siqueiros’ murals stand as a testament to that, urging us to look beyond the surface and engage with the deeper currents of humanity.

The post Painting of the Week Episode 10: David Alfaro Siqueiros appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Painting of the Week – Episode 9: 200 Years of Anti-War Painting

Art has always reflected the struggles of its time, and nowhere is this clearer than in the powerful world of anti-war painting. This week, we explore 200 years of artistic protest, from Francisco Goya’s haunting 1814 masterpiece to Robert Motherwell’s abstract expressionism. Let’s dive into the emotions, symbolism, and lingering questions these works leave us with.

Why Anti-War Paintings Matter

When the world feels chaotic, art can feel trivial—or so the podcast’s host mused at the beginning of this episode. It’s easy to question the role of painting during times of war, but as we explore these historic works, it becomes clear: art isn’t just decoration. It’s a voice, a protest, and a way to process the unthinkable.

Anti-war paintings tell stories that words often fail to capture. They remind us of the horrors of conflict while offering a space to reflect. Whether you’re drawn to realism or abstract symbolism, these pieces make you think, feel, and question the status quo.

Francisco Goya: The Power of Drama

Francisco Goya’s The Third of May 1808 (1814) stands as a seminal work in anti-war art. Its composition immediately draws your eye to the central figure: a man with arms outstretched, evoking the posture of Jesus on the cross. Look closer, and you’ll notice the stigmata-like wounds on his palms—a deliberate nod to religious imagery, underscoring the senseless martyrdom of war victims.

On the left, individualized figures represent humanity, while the shadowy, faceless mass on the right symbolizes the dehumanization of violence. Goya’s stark contrast between light and dark heightens the drama, making it impossible to look away. This painting doesn’t just depict a historical event; it makes you feel the weight of oppression and sacrifice.

Édouard Manet: A Familiar Composition

Fast-forward 55 years, and Édouard Manet offers his take on anti-war themes with The Execution of Emperor Maximilian (1869). The composition echoes Goya’s work almost exactly, but with subtle differences. One figure on the right seems out of place—lost, perhaps, or even hesitant. It’s a small detail, but it adds an unexpected layer to the narrative.

Manet’s work bridges past and present, showing how the themes Goya addressed remain painfully relevant. By reinterpreting the same composition, Manet reminds us that history often repeats itself, and the lessons of one generation don’t always stick.

Pablo Picasso: A Symbol of Resistance

No conversation about anti-war art would be complete without Pablo Picasso’s Guernica (1937). This monochromatic epic is perhaps the most famous anti-war painting in Western history. Created in response to the bombing of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War, it’s an explosion of chaos and pain.

Picasso pays homage to Goya by including a figure in a similar posture to The Third of May 1808, complete with stigmata-like details. But where Goya used dramatic realism, Picasso veers into abstraction, using fragmented forms and distorted figures to convey the disorientation of war.

What makes Guernica so powerful is its universality. Even without knowing the historical context, you can feel the anguish and destruction radiating from the canvas.

Robert Motherwell: Abstract Protest

Robert Motherwell’s Elegy to the Spanish Republic No. 57 (1957) represents a leap into pure abstraction. With its bold black shapes and muted palette, this painting expresses grief and loss without depicting any recognizable figures or scenes.

But here’s the catch: without the title, would you know this is an anti-war painting? For some, its abstraction allows for personal interpretation, making it deeply emotional. For others, it feels too vague to communicate its intended message.

Motherwell’s work pushes the boundaries of what art can be, challenging viewers to find meaning in simplicity. But it also raises questions: how much abstraction is too much? And does knowing the title shape how you experience the piece?

Realism vs. Abstraction: What Resonates With You?

One of the podcast’s most compelling points is the debate between realism and abstraction. Goya’s dramatic realism makes it clear what’s at stake. You don’t need to know the story to understand the horror unfolding. Picasso, bridging the gap, uses semi-abstraction to amplify emotion while retaining some recognizable elements.

Then there’s Motherwell, whose work relies entirely on interpretation. For some, this approach feels liberating, allowing them to bring their own emotions to the piece. For others, it lacks the immediacy and universality of more representational art.

So, what resonates with you? Do you prefer the visceral impact of realism, or does abstraction’s open-endedness speak to you on a deeper level?

What Role Does Art Play in Times of War?

The podcast raises a sobering question: can paintings make a difference during times of war? Historically, these works have transcended their eras to become symbols of resistance and reflection. But in the moment, their impact isn’t always clear.

Goya, Manet, Picasso, and Motherwell didn’t stop wars with their paintings. What they did was offer a space for dialogue, understanding, and remembrance. They captured the emotions of their time and passed them down to future generations, reminding us of the costs of conflict.

Art might not change the world overnight, but it plants seeds of empathy and awareness. And in a world often numb to violence, that’s no small feat.

Your Turn: What Do You Think?

At its heart, this episode invites you to reflect on your own relationship with art. What do you look for in an anti-war painting? Do you gravitate toward the stark realism of Goya, the emotional abstraction of Motherwell, or something in between?

More importantly, what role do you think art plays in shaping our understanding of conflict? Can it inspire change, or is its power more symbolic?

One thing’s for sure: these paintings continue to provoke thought and emotion, even centuries after they were created. And that, perhaps, is their greatest legacy.

Anti-war art isn’t just about the past; it’s a call to action for the present and future. So, what’s your take? Let’s keep the conversation going—because in times of chaos, dialogue is more important than ever.

The post Painting of the Week Episode 9: 200 years of anti-war painting appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Painting of the Week – Episode 8: Henri Matisse

Welcome back to another delightful Painting of the Week! This time, we’re diving into the colorful, bold world of Henri Matisse. Known for his unapologetic embrace of beauty and simplicity, Matisse challenges us to rethink the purpose of art. Can a painting exist purely to delight the eyes? Let’s unravel the brilliance of this stick-figure masterpiece and explore the questions it raises about art’s role in our lives.

Can Beauty Alone Be Enough?

Matisse was no stranger to criticism. In his time, critics dismissed his work as “decorative,” a term meant to undermine his artistry. Yet, Matisse owned this label with pride, boldly stating that his art was meant to be relaxing—a visual escape for both blue-collar and white-collar workers.

Think about that for a moment. Isn’t there something refreshing about art that simply makes you feel good? This painting exudes tranquility with its flowing lines and soothing palette, like a breath of fresh air. It doesn’t demand you solve its mysteries or grapple with existential truths. Instead, it offers a moment of peace in a chaotic world.

So, here’s the big question: can great art exist just to look pretty? Matisse seems to think so, and honestly, he might be onto something. Sometimes, life’s most profound experiences come from the simplest pleasures.

Stick Figures: Simplicity or Too Much?

Let’s talk about those figures. They’re, well… glorified stick figures. But somehow, Matisse breathes life into them. These minimalist forms feel animated, almost dancing across the canvas. Their simplicity invites you to focus on the essence of movement and emotion without getting lost in details.

Now, here’s the aesthetic debate: how minimal is too minimal? For some, these stick figures are just enough to convey humanity. For others, they might teeter on the edge of abstraction. Where do you draw the line? Do you crave more detailed realism, or can you embrace this stripped-down representation of the human form?

Personally, I find their simplicity charming. They’re like a universal language—easy to understand, yet endlessly captivating. It’s a reminder that art doesn’t need to be complex to be impactful.

The Power of Deconstruction

What makes Matisse’s work so intriguing is how he deconstructs traditional art forms. These figures might be simple, but they’re far from basic. They walk the line between representation and abstraction, challenging us to reconsider what makes something “real.”

Look closely, and you’ll see the genius behind the simplicity. The curves of the figures suggest movement, while the bold outlines create a sense of energy. It’s as if Matisse distilled the essence of life into its most fundamental shapes.

This leads to another question: how far can an artist deconstruct a figure before it stops feeling human? Matisse pushes the boundaries, inviting us to explore how much—or how little—detail we need to connect with a work of art.

Art for Art’s Sake

One of Matisse’s most radical ideas was that art doesn’t have to carry a deeper meaning. It can simply exist to be beautiful. This concept, often summarized as “art for art’s sake,” remains controversial.

For Matisse, creating art was about offering a sanctuary—a moment of joy and relaxation in a hectic world. His paintings don’t shout; they whisper. They don’t demand; they invite. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

Imagine coming home after a long day and seeing this painting on your wall. It wouldn’t ask you to analyze it or solve its riddles. Instead, it would greet you with a sense of calm, like an old friend saying, “Hey, it’s okay to just breathe.”

Your Taste, Your Rules

At the heart of this episode are two deeply personal questions: what do you want from art, and where do you draw the line?

Do you need art to stir your soul and challenge your worldview, or can it simply make you smile? Can stick figures convey as much emotion as a meticulously detailed portrait? There’s no right or wrong answer—just your preferences and how they evolve over time.

Matisse reminds us that art is a conversation, not a lecture. It’s about what resonates with you in the moment, and that’s always subject to change.

Wrapping It Up

Henri Matisse’s work may seem simple, but it’s anything but shallow. With this painting, he challenges us to embrace beauty for its own sake and rethink what we consider “great” art. Whether you’re captivated by his stick figures or drawn to his bold colors, one thing is certain: Matisse knew how to spark a reaction.

So, what’s your take? Do you find this painting relaxing, or does its simplicity leave you wanting more? Share your thoughts below, and stay tuned for more artistic explorations in the next Painting of the Week!

Matisse believed in making art that speaks to everyone—what does it say to you?

The post Painting of the Week Episode 8 : Henri Matisse appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Painting of the Week – Episode 7: Sainer ETAM’s Masterful Mural

Welcome to another vibrant episode of Painting of the Week! This time, we’re stepping beyond the canvas and into the world of murals. For Episode 7, we’re diving into the mesmerizing work of Sainer ETAM, a Polish artist whose murals have become landmarks in the global street art movement. If you’ve ever been awestruck by the scale, detail, and brilliance of urban murals, this is your stop. Let’s break down what makes Sainer’s work so captivating, specifically one mural that blends flatness and depth like an artistic tightrope walk.

The Woman Who Steals the Spotlight

Let’s start with the heart of the mural: the woman’s portrait. Despite being painted in subdued, desaturated tones, this figure commands attention. Your eyes naturally gravitate to her, bypassing the bold splashes of saturated colors and striking contrasts surrounding her. That’s a testament to Sainer’s skill—he understands how deeply humans are wired to seek out faces. The woman’s quiet presence anchors the chaos, pulling you in and holding your gaze amidst a whirlwind of competing visual elements.

From her, your eyes start to wander. Where do they go next? That’s where Sainer’s mastery comes into play. The mural feels alive, almost like it’s guiding your eyes through its intricate maze of shapes and textures.

A Perfect Balancing Act: Depth vs. Flatness

What makes this mural so unforgettable is its seamless blend of depth and flatness. At first glance, you’re drawn into a rich, layered world. A goose overlaps the woman, which overlaps another bird, which leads your eyes further back into the distance. It’s like stepping into a portal that keeps pulling you deeper and deeper.

But just as you’re getting lost in the illusion of depth, BAM—you slam into a wall of flatness, as sudden as Wile E. Coyote hitting an anvil. In the supposed “background,” there’s a super-saturated, ultra-simplified landscape that feels like a 2D collage. Trees are reduced to basic shapes, and a body of water is nothing more than a bright blue oval. It’s minimalism at its finest, where the smallest suggestion transforms into a whole scene in your mind.

This deliberate clash between depth and flatness is what gives the mural its energy. It’s almost a game: one moment, you’re immersed in realism; the next, you’re jolted into abstraction. It keeps you engaged, constantly shifting your perspective and challenging your understanding of the space.

Landscapes as Both Abstraction and Representation

One of Sainer’s most genius moves is how he uses landscapes as a bridge between abstraction and representation. That background could be two things at once: a beautifully abstract arrangement of shapes or a literal landscape with water, trees, and hills. This duality lets you decide how you interpret the mural.

It’s no accident that Sainer’s landscapes feel like this. He’s spoken about how he uses them as a “vehicle” to blur lines between reality and imagination. This mural is the perfect example—one moment you’re marveling at its bold graphic shapes, and the next, you’re mentally strolling through a dreamy countryside.

It’s this balance of control and freedom that makes the mural so unique. You’re not just looking at art; you’re interacting with it, finding new details and interpretations every time you take it in.

The Dance Between Chaos and Clarity

Zooming out, the mural becomes a whirlwind of contrasts. There are identifiable elements—the woman, the birds, the house—but they’re set against a surreal, almost delirious environment. The house, for example, is sliced in half and pasted against that abstract landscape, like a puzzle piece from another dimension.

This deliberate “chaos” isn’t overwhelming. Instead, it feels like a carefully choreographed dance. Every element, no matter how wild, has its place. The mural invites you to move between representation and abstraction, always balancing clarity with complexity.

For instance, the birds feel lifelike but are also part of the mural’s graphic design. The woman feels grounded in reality, yet she exists in this dreamlike world where the rules of space and perspective are turned on their head. It’s art that makes you think, while still being accessible and enjoyable to just look at.

Why Sainer’s Work Is Timeless

Sainer’s ability to balance opposites—depth and flatness, chaos and order, abstraction and representation—gives his work a timeless quality. It’s not tied to a specific trend or style; it’s something that resonates on a deeper level. You could stare at this mural a hundred times and still find new things to appreciate.

What’s even more fascinating is how Sainer invites the viewer into the creative process. By reducing elements like the landscape to their most basic forms, he’s not just showing you what he sees—he’s encouraging you to imagine and fill in the gaps yourself. It’s a conversation, not a lecture.

Your Turn: What Do You See?

Art like this sparks different reactions in everyone. Do you love the way Sainer blurs the line between abstraction and reality? Or do you find the contrasts too jarring? There’s no wrong answer—that’s the beauty of it.

For me, this mural feels like the perfect marriage of bold experimentation and technical brilliance. It’s a piece you can appreciate both intellectually and emotionally, whether you’re analyzing the composition or simply admiring its vibrant energy.

Wrapping It Up

Sainer ETAM’s mural is more than just a painting on a wall—it’s a masterclass in storytelling, technique, and creativity. From the woman’s captivating portrait to the surreal landscape that challenges your perception, every element is a testament to Sainer’s genius.

So next time you see a mural, take a moment to really look at it. You might find yourself drawn into a world as layered, intriguing, and timeless as this one. Who knows? Maybe you’ll start seeing the world around you in a whole new way.

What’s your take on this mural? Let me know your thoughts, and stay tuned for more explorations into the colorful world of art!

The post Painting of the Week Episode 7 : Sainer appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Van Gogh and the Japanese Influence: A Revolution in Art

Welcome to another light-hearted dive into the colorful world of art! In this episode, we’re focusing on one of the most transformative periods in art history and how it shaped the work of one of the most beloved artists of all time: Vincent Van Gogh. With Van Gogh as our guide, we’ll explore how Japanese art captured European imaginations in the 19th century, leaving an indelible mark on the modern art movements that followed. Let’s get started, shall we?

The East Meets West: A Perfect Storm of Inspiration

Picture this: it’s the mid-1800s, and Japan, a nation that had been largely closed off to the world, suddenly opens its borders. With this historic shift, Japanese art, particularly woodblock prints, began to flow into Europe, captivating collectors and artists alike. These prints were unlike anything Western artists had seen before—bold, flat compositions, striking patterns, and an almost ethereal use of space. It was as if someone had switched the channel on centuries of Western painting styles dominated by dramatic light and shadow.

This influx of Japanese art couldn’t have come at a better time. European artists were itching to break free from tradition, and these prints provided exactly the kind of fresh perspective they were looking for. For Van Gogh, this new way of seeing was nothing short of revolutionary.

A Tale of Two Worlds: Caravaggio Meets Hiroshige

To understand just how groundbreaking this shift was, let’s compare two iconic styles: Caravaggio’s dramatic Western masterpieces and the serene elegance of Edo-period Japanese prints. Caravaggio, a titan of Western art, was all about dramatic lighting, deep shadows, and a painstaking effort to render three-dimensional form. His paintings almost leap off the canvas, demanding your attention.

Now, contrast this with a Japanese woodblock print. There’s no dramatic spotlight here—just flat planes of color, simplified forms, and a sense of balance that feels almost meditative. It’s a completely different language of visual storytelling. For artists like Van Gogh, encountering this new style was like discovering a secret portal to another dimension.

Van Gogh’s Master Copies: Borrowing Brilliance

Van Gogh didn’t just admire Japanese prints—he immersed himself in them, often creating master copies of works by renowned artists like Hiroshige. These weren’t mere reproductions; they were acts of reverence and learning. By recreating these prints, Van Gogh absorbed their techniques and wove them into his unique artistic voice.

Take, for example, one of his copies of a Hiroshige print. In this piece, Van Gogh mimics the flat, graphic shapes typical of Japanese art. The tree branches in the foreground lack the three-dimensional shading we’d expect in Western art. Instead, they’re bold and unapologetically flat. This was a style Van Gogh later made entirely his own, using it to infuse his landscapes with a dreamlike quality.

Another fascinating detail is how Van Gogh adopted a “drawing-like” quality in his paintings. His outlines became more pronounced, and his compositions more decorative. These choices weren’t just artistic experiments—they were deliberate nods to the techniques he admired in Japanese art.

Finding His Voice: Van Gogh’s Evolution

As Van Gogh continued to experiment, his work began to take on a life of its own. One of his later master copies shows him emphasizing patterns in a way that feels distinctly personal. The ornate patterns on a woman’s clothing in one painting, for example, are almost hypnotic in their detail. These patterns later became a hallmark of Van Gogh’s style, appearing in works like his famous portraits and still lifes.

By the time Van Gogh created his celebrated portrait of his art supply dealer, he had fully integrated Japanese influences into his work. The background of the portrait is a chaotic yet harmonious mosaic of Japanese prints, while the foreground bursts with Van Gogh’s signature directional brushstrokes. The result? A vibrant, flat composition that feels alive with energy.

Why It Matters: The Legacy of Artistic Borrowing

Van Gogh’s story is a testament to the power of artistic exchange. He didn’t just mimic what he saw; he transformed it. By blending Eastern and Western traditions, he created something entirely new, paving the way for countless artists to follow.

And here’s the thing: this process of borrowing and reinventing is at the heart of art itself. Every artist, whether consciously or not, builds on the work of those who came before. Van Gogh’s journey shows us that great art doesn’t happen in isolation—it’s a conversation that spans continents and centuries.

A Light-Hearted Takeaway for You

So, what can you take away from all this? First, don’t be afraid to borrow inspiration from unexpected places. Whether you’re an artist, a writer, or someone who just loves a good DIY project, there’s always something to learn from looking at the world through a different lens. Second, remember that it’s okay to mix things up. Sometimes, the most extraordinary creations come from blending the old with the new.

And finally, let Van Gogh remind you that even the most groundbreaking ideas often start with a simple act of copying. It’s not about where you begin—it’s about where you go from there.

Van Gogh’s love affair with Japanese art wasn’t just a passing phase; it was a defining moment in his artistic journey. By embracing a style that was so radically different from the traditions of his time, he found a way to express his own vision in a way that continues to resonate with us today. So next time you see one of his swirling, colorful masterpieces, take a moment to appreciate the layers of influence and inspiration that brought it to life. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be inspired to start your own creative adventure.

The post Painting of the Week Episode 6: Van Gogh appeared first on Max Lowtide.

Exploring the Iconic Wave: Hokusai’s The Great Wave of Kanagawa

Welcome back to another episode of Painting of the Week! Today, we’re diving into one of the most iconic images in art history – The Great Wave of Kanagawa, by the legendary Japanese artist Hokusai. You’ve probably seen this image countless times, whether on a mug, t-shirt, or even as an emoji. Yet, despite its widespread recognition, there’s so much more to explore when it comes to Hokusai’s work and the context in which it was created.

Grab a cup of tea and let’s dig deeper into the fascinating world of The Great Wave and the artist behind it.

A Peek into Hokusai’s Time and Work

Before we dive into the specifics of The Great Wave of Kanagawa, it’s important to understand the environment in which Hokusai created his masterpieces. He lived and worked during Japan’s Edo period (1600-1868), a time marked by a strict isolationist policy. For over two centuries, Japan was largely cut off from the rest of the world, with no foreign goods or ideas allowed to enter or leave the island. This isolation helped cultivate a distinct and rich culture, one that influenced Hokusai’s unique approach to art.  Despite Japan’s isolation, exciting artistic movements were bubbling up across the world, particularly in Europe.  Though Hokusai was unaware of modern art’s rise in the 19th century, his works, especially 36 Views of Mount Fuji, influenced many Western artists.  It’s fascinating that The Great Wave, created in the early 1800s, became one of the most recognized art pieces worldwide.

The 36 Views of Mount Fuji Series: More Than Just The Great Wave

Hokusai’s The Great Wave of Kanagawa is part of a larger series of prints titled Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji created between 1830 and 1832. It’s wild to think that this iconic wave is just one piece in a much larger collection of art. In fact, The Great Wave is only one of 36 views of Mount Fuji that Hokusai was commissioned to create. Imagine – there are 35 other stunning works that make up the series, each as beautiful and thought-provoking as the wave itself. Isn’t that incredible?

For many of us, The Great Wave is the first – and sometimes the only – image we associate with Hokusai. But as we’ll see, there’s a wealth of other images in the series, each offering a different perspective on Mount Fuji and the surrounding landscape. It’s a reminder that there’s always more to discover, even with the most famous works of art.

Mount Fuji: Always in the Background

When you look at The Great Wave, your eye is immediately drawn to the enormous, cresting wave in the foreground.  Mount Fuji quietly sits in the background, often overlooked amidst the dramatic wave, yet remains a constant presence.  In the Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji, Hokusai shows varying perspectives of the mountain, exploring its relationship with land, water, and sky.  One favorite image brings Mount Fuji closer, creating an intimate composition while maintaining the awe-inspiring presence of the landscape.  Hokusai’s use of foreground and background creates a dynamic connection between the viewer and the scene, constantly shifting our perception.  It’s not just about the mountain itself, but about the place we occupy in relation to it.

The Water: A Dynamic Force in Hokusai’s Art

One of the most fascinating aspects of Hokusai’s work is his depiction of water. We all know The Great Wave for its dramatic, powerful depiction of the ocean, but did you know that Hokusai’s other prints in the series also showcase water in all sorts of dynamic ways? It’s true! Whether he’s capturing the calmness of a lake or the intensity of crashing waves, Hokusai’s treatment of water is nothing short of mesmerizing.  In Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji, Hokusai shows water in various forms, from calm reflections to powerful crashing waves.

It’s this versatility in his depiction of water that makes Hokusai’s work so dynamic and engaging. Each print offers something new, making us reconsider how we view the natural world.  It’s also important to note the technical skill involved in creating these prints. Hokusai’s attention to detail, especially in his representation of water, shows his deep understanding of the elements. His waves not only strike visually but also capture the essence of movement and energy, a feat few artists have ever mastered.

Composition and Balance: Hokusai’s Artistic Genius

If there’s one thing that stands out in Hokusai’s prints, it’s his masterful use of composition.  Hokusai balances foreground, middle ground, and background to create depth, drawing the viewer’s eye across the image.  In many prints, Hokusai contrasts sharp foreground details with soft background elements, guiding the eye and creating harmony.  In another print, Hokusai contrasts defined boats in the foreground with an abstract background of distant figures and mountains.  The effect is both visually pleasing and thought-provoking. You can almost feel the vastness of the landscape and the separation between the immediate and distant. It’s a visual trick that works so well, creating a natural rhythm between the different layers of the scene.

Final Thoughts: Hokusai’s Lasting Legacy

Hokusai’s Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji is more than a beautiful collection; it’s a statement on humanity’s relationship with nature.  Through his landscapes, Hokusai urges us to reflect on our place in the world and our connection to nature.  The legacy of Hokusai lives on not only in Japan but across the globe. From The Great Wave to his lesser-known works, his prints have inspired countless artists and continue to captivate viewers worldwide. As we wrap up this episode of Painting of the Week, I encourage you to dive deeper into Hokusai’s work. Explore the Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji for yourself, and discover the many layers of meaning embedded in these iconic prints. Trust me – there’s so much more to Hokusai than meets the eye.

Thanks for joining me today, and I can’t wait to share more art stories with you next time. Until then, keep exploring, keep discovering, and most importantly, keep enjoying the art around you!

The post Painting of the Week Episode 5 : Hokosai appeared first on Max Lowtide.