The word “clazzy” was first used to describe music.
Shortly after that it became my name.
Clazzy Art was born.
I will tell you this: I don’t paint because I don’t have a camera. In other words, I’m not trying to reproduce a person or thing.
For me, it’s all about what the subject FEELS like.
Clazzy Art: A brush with heart
How does it feel to me?
How does it feel to you?
The initial Clazzy painting, Rising, conveys the anticipation of a glorious day as the sun rises over the ocean. A young lad enjoys some early-morning fishing off a decrepit pier as water laps the scruffy beach. Abandoned binoculars and tennis shoes evoke an untold story.
The fourth of July was coming. I knew I wanted to paint the flag, but it had to be a flag that represented us all–the diverse colors, genders and choices of America.
I painted it in one sitting, on July 4th, 2019, surrounded by the wildly melodic strains of Jonathan Richard Cring’s arrangement of American music: The Freedom Medley. It was an inspired encounter for me.
Below is the YouTube of the session along with its soundtrack, The Freedom Medley.
Who knows? Maybe it will be an inspired encounter for you, too.
Baby Steps (Mother & Child)
My dear friend was pregnant. She contacted me, ecstatic, and requested a painting for her nursery. I was overjoyed to do it.
I didn’t hurry. In fact, I spent a lot of time remembering–just breathing in the essence of my friend.
Baby Steps turned out to be a pastel portrayal of mother and child, floating between heaven above and home below.
Sleeping in heavenly peace.
The mystery of space. The beauty of the moon (and a harvest moon, at that.)
Looking at this painting makes my stomach drop a little–because I’m gazing at the far side of the moon.
Am I floating in space like an angel? In a spaceship?
You decide. As for me–I just decided that I like looking at it.
I treasure the MOON PERSPECTIVE.
3 Trees of Golgotha
Trees are so moody. Just like people. Three bare, leafless trees have been enveloped by a bleak, winter environment.
It looks to me like these trees have been through some terrible loss. They feel bereft.
But wait … look at the middle tree. Is it growing a leaf?
Life wins again.
I guess you just can’t keep a good tree down.
In Paint and Ashes
Click the painting to visit the Joshua Paul slideshow.
In 1986, they lost their son, Joshua Paul. His ashes were carried with them always.
The parents approached me with the idea of creating a memorial painting in honor of Joshua, blending his ashes into the paint. Awed, I accepted the challenge.
The experience was soul-stirring–to such an extent that I documented it in a slide show. You are invited to come and see.
Ordering Your Own Memorial Painting
Obviously, the Joshua Paul painting is not for sale–it is in the possession of the family.
But the idea is available.
Joshua’s family felt that a “forever” work of art was more meaningful than scattering the ashes to the wind. You may disagree. But if not, let’s talk.
IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DISCUSS A MEMORIAL PAINTING WITH CLAZZY, JUST FILL OUT THE FORM BELOW. WE CAN DISCUSS ANYTHING YOU LIKE.
Bird Lady was originally intended to be Clazzy Cubism. But the birdcage wanted to be in the picture. Then the bird lost its head. Outside the window was a windy world with a “free bird” of its own. The lady’s leggings took on the vibrant colors of the maimed bird, which seemed to make her happy.
More surrealism than cubism, I would say. But who cares?
Bird Lady–too cool for school.
When the Christmas season rolled around, so did a bundle of inspiration. Four paintings resulted. I put them in a Christmas Closet for visitors. Click the thumbnail to see them:
The four paintings of Christmas
Consider yourself invited to visit Clazzy’s Christmas Closet for a closer look.
The Unlearned Lesson
The soldier sits. The soldier suffers. Although he lost his arms through amputation, his chin is lifted defiantly and his eyes glitter with anger. He grips his gun tightly between his knees.
The lesson remains unlearned.
Sets are all the rage. This is my first one.
Click the picture to check it out.
An abstract piece of abstract joy. The bass and treble clefs escape the musical bar line and run to the dance floor. Other clefs follow suit.
A Rushing Mighty Wind
A “rushing mighty wind” is how it was described by those people who were there. An event that happened in a single morning, it changed how people spoke, how people heard and how people acted.
It was powerful. It brought Spirit into human life.
The rushing, mighty wind blows everything away–including me.
The Bayshore painting began with a fixation on how beautiful the human jawbone is when lifted. Then I began to sift through my memory. Who did I know whose face frequented that profile?
It came back to me.
Jonathan, poolside at Bayshore. He used to hold court there–swimming, sunning, snoozing. Nature surrounded him.
Even the butterflies trusted him.
Easter. The tomb is raided.
My mother asked me who the tomb raider was. When I said, “God,” she laughed.
I bet Jesus did, too.