Monday, May 01, 2023
RIP Gordon Lightfoot - Canadian Railroad Trilogy
Sunday, January 08, 2023
Happy Birthday Elvis!
“Gregg Chadwick takes the opposite stance in the oil-on-linen 'Elvis Presley (Suspicion).' Here, a familiar depiction of the singer is rendered in blurry, shadowy lines, as if his memory is slowly fading and becoming the stuff of rumor and legend tending toward oblivion.”- Fredric Koeppel, The Commercial Appeal, Memphis, Tennessee
Since my artwork was included in a series of Elvis themed exhibitions at the L. Ross Gallery in Memphis, Tennessee, I have been reading and re-reading Ray Connolly’s book Being Elvis: A Lonely Life which deftly examines Elvis’ life through the lens of Memphis in the 1940’s and 1950’s. Childhood poverty and class aspirations spurred Elvis on in a way that left no room for error in his art but left his life dangerously open to misfortune and eventual tragedy.At the Mississippi-Alabama Fair and Dairy Show in Tupelo, Mississippi on September 26, 1956, Elvis played a powerful, homecoming show in the town where he was born in a two-room shack 21 years before on January 8, 1935. Elvis had left Tupelo when he was thirteen. In the interim, Elvis had become Tupelo’s most famous person. As Ray Connolly recounts in Being Elvis: A Lonely Life : “Elvis put on a special show that day…It was staged outside the fairgrounds in front of a large tent, and, as he sang in the afternoon show, he could see over in the background, a long freight train rolling past.” Starting on that day, as the concert closed, Elvis and the band slipped off stage through a trapdoor. No encores that day nor in the future. Instead an announcer would express over the PA system that “Elvis has left the building.”
Thursday, August 02, 2018
Gregg Chadwick - Mystery Train Opens Tonight In Laguna Beach
Artist Reception:
Thursday, August 2nd, 6:30pm-9:30pm
August 2nd-31st, 2018
Las Laguna Gallery
577 South Coast Highway A-1
Laguna Beach CA 92651
More at:
http://firstthursdaysartwalk.com/art-walk-news-august-2018/
http://www.laslagunagallery.com
PARKING: It truly is best to valet in The Cliff Village parking lot if it is open. It is $3 an hour and you are right where you need to be. If it is full, the next best bet is to turn on Legion (from PCH, it's the cross street right at the gallery) and take your first left on Glenneyre. On the left side you will see a parking deck, just a block or 2 down. It takes credit card and cash, but ONLY 1's and 5's. It is $4.50 an hour and you only need to pay until 9 pm. If you don't park in one of those, you can look for street/metered parking but it is very tough in the summer time. The earlier you arrive, the better luck you will have with parking.
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
The Late Afternoon of Time - San Francisco
Gregg Chadwick The Late Afternoon of Time - San Francisco 24"x20" oil on linen 2018 |
Cities, like people, grow and change. In this spirit, San Francisco continues to inform my paintings. Last weekend, at a friend's birthday gathering in Culver City, I recounted how one morning, when I lived in San Francisco, I spotted the artist Richard Diebenkorn leaning up against a BART entrance watching the cable car turnaround across Market Street. Diebenkorn was captivated by the movement of the conductors as they spun the cars around on a giant wooden turntable. I stopped, leaned up against a wall, and flipped through art writer Robert Hughes' book Nothing If Not Critical until I reached his essay on Diebenkorn. I read slowly, pausing often to gaze up at Diebenkorn as he gazed towards Powell Street.
Eventually, I closed the book, walked over and thanked Richard Diebenkorn for his art and inspiration. He smiled and tears seemed to well up in his eyes, as he said "Thank you. I am glad that my work inspires you. Is your studio nearby?" I nodded and tried to say something "about the interplay between figuration and abstraction in his work." Diebenkorn was frail at this point and seemed to know that he didn't have much longer to live. I didn't want to take him away from his moment alone in the morning light on Market Street. I thanked him again and moved on. Richard Diebenkorn died soon after in 1993.
The late morning light, when it cuts through the fog in downtown San Francisco, opens the city up like an epiphany. That morning was a revelation for me. Lawrence Ferlinghetti saw something similar in the City's light and wrote,"
"And then the halcyon late mornings after the fog burns off and the sun paints white houses with the sea light of Greece with sharp clean shadows making the town look like
it had just been painted."
I learned something profound that morning when I encountered Diebenkorn - my heroes were mortal. And in turn, my family and friends also had a short time on earth. Life is fragile. I looked at the streets anew. Around us and beneath us memories dwelt. A friend of mine who made his way from place to place along Market Street slid up to me one day at the corner of 6th and Market and showed me a horses skull in his battered shopping cart. "I was helping a man dig out his basement and I hit something hard", he said. "We found an entire skeleton buried there. Probably from the earthquake - from '07"
Later I read that the cable cars were built because the horses kept breaking down on the steep San Francisco hills. The horses legs would snap under the weight. Maybe my friend's horse pulled a burden up Jones Street until collapse?
An immigrant from Scotland devised a system to carry cars and passengers up the steep slopes without animal power. Gary Kamiya writes in The Chronicle:
"At a little before midnight on Aug. 2, 1873, the men in the power plant fired up the boilers. The engines turned over and the cables tightened. The rope began to hum in the street, the first occasion of a sound that would become as familiar to San Franciscans as Bow Bells to a London cockney.
At 5 a.m., the team gathered atop Clay at Jones. Andrew Hallidie’s gripman, reportedly an old locomotive engineer, looked down the 16 percent grade into the fog and chickened out. But Halide, who had been hurled off scaffolding, buried in a tunnel and gone for a real-life Logger’s Revenge on roiling rapids, had confidence in his invention. He jumped into the dummy, took the grip, picked up the cable below and began to descend Clay Street. When the car reached the bottom, it was spun around on a turntable and pulled back up to the summit."
The turntable. Diebenkorn's gaze. The Changing Light. The Late Afternoon of Time.
Gregg Chadwick The Changing Light - San Francisco 24"x18" oil on linen 2018 |
Gregg Chadwick's Palette (Colors Used for The Late Afternoon of Time and The Changing Light ) |
Wednesday, May 02, 2018
Please join me in celebrating the 39th Venice Family Clinic’s Art Walk & Auctions!
Monday, March 19, 2018
An Amazing "The Other Art Fair" in Downtown L.A.
A post shared by Gregg Chadwick (@greggchadwick) on
Thanks to all who visited my booth at The Other Art Fair, all my artist colleagues at TOAF, and deep appreciation to all of you who have purchased a new Chadwick! Thanks @saatchiart for this amazing first run in Los Angeles. #art#instaartists And deep thanks as well to @clarkhulingsorg for your support and guidance #ArtIsLife #TheFutureIsWoke
Friday, March 02, 2018
Looking Forward to Seeing You at The Other Art Fair
“Gregg Chadwick begins with a Greek conceptual dyad pertaining to that slippery core of existence: Time. The ancients defined chronos as sequential and chronological time, kairos – the time in between. Chadwick paints in oil in various sessions, superimposing images upon one another and in effect capturing the ghostly effect of kairos. The palette is muted; the atmosphere vaporous, beautiful and melancholy. With any luck, Chadwick hopes, the works will disturb viewers' sense of time's linearity, offering the conundrum of a simultaneous past, present and future instead.”
Gregg Chadwick The Time Between (Kairos) 48”x36” oil on linen 2018 |
March 15 - 18, 2018:
Saatchi Art presents the Other Art Fair. Making its debut at The Majestic Downtown, the Fair showcases work by 100 emerging artists, each hand-picked by a Selection Committee of art world experts.
Gregg Chadwick
City of Mirrors (61 vette)
24"x30" oil on linen 2018
Artist Gregg Chadwick will be exhibiting a selection of artworks from his traveling exhibition Mystery Train, which examines the mythos of America as seen through the physical and cultural history of the railroad in the United States. The artist will also be featuring a new series of works that engage the viewer in the story of Los Angeles, reaching right up to the Women's Marches of 2017 and 2018. A new series of works on paper as well as small sized paintings will also be on view.
Please enter your details at the link below to secure your complimentary Private Viewing ticket to The Other Art Fair.
You must RSVP before March 15, 2018 to register for the Private View.
Gregg Chadwick Skate Light 16"x20" oil on linen 2018 |
New painting "City of Mirrors" by Gregg Chadwick for @SaatchiArt @TheOtherArtFair https://t.co/ZUHQOWGbeM #art #LAnoir pic.twitter.com/2Kprp1FpEm— Gregg Chadwick (@greggchadwick) March 2, 2018
Sunday, February 11, 2018
He Called Her "Lightning"
by Gregg Chadwick
When I was little and my dad was off in Vietnam during the war, we lived in a small, rented carriage house behind a big estate. On the way to school each morning we would walk by the train platform full of commuters waiting for their ride into the city. I knew my Grandpa Desch drove trains and I often wondered as we passed over the tracks on the bridge on Ridgewood Avenue whether he was in one of the engines down below. It's only thirty minutes by train from Glen Ridge, New Jersey, to Penn Station in Manhattan. Yet, there seemed to be a world of difference between my town with its quiet gas-lamp lit streets and the bustling avenues in New York City. The train was the artery between those two worlds and I never forgot it.
The kitchen in Garwood was where Grandma Desch would spread her warmth.
In a similar fashion, the quiet evenings at the house where my dad's parents lived in Montclair were a world away from my mom's parents' boisterous home in Garwood. Being one of eleven children, my mom was thrown into a swirl of hugs, greetings, questions, and desires the minute we walked through the door of the Desch home. Small in size, but full of warmth, my grandparents' house was a neighborhood gathering place. A black and white TV was usually on in the living room with a ballgame playing or often on weekend afternoons a pulpy science fiction film. Grandpa would often hold court here on his days off from the railroad. I remember Grandpa mussing up my hair when we arrived in a warm hearted gesture that implied get comfortable and join the fun. I was considered shy as a kid in this environment, and with my Southern California accent, I wasn't quite a true Jersey kid either. If the living room was Grandpa's domain, the kitchen in Garwood was where Grandma Desch would spread her warmth. Usually wearing an apron, Grandma's world extended from the stove, to the sink, to the screen door leading out to the second story porch. Her meals were hearty and reflecting our Irish/German roots ranged from corned beef and cabbage to sauerkraut and sausages. My favorite breakfast at her house was a plate of browned potatoes fried up in her cast iron pan.
"What's your exit?"
I remember Grandma giggling one morning when I spread mustard on my bread instead of butter because of a billboard I saw along the New Jersey Turnpike that depicted buttered bread with such a mustardy yellow that I thought it had to be a French's condiment ad. The New Jersey Turnpike and the Garden State Parkway run the length of the state and at first meeting folks from Jersey often ask,"What's your exit?" Grandma and Grandpa Desch lived off of Exit 136 in Garwood, New Jersey. When we drove there from Exit 148 in Glen Ridge we would often detour through Irvington to grab an Italian hotdog or sausage at Jimmy Buff's.
Gregg Chadwick
30"x 40" oil on linen 2016Jersey Rain (Jimmy Buff's) |
There are a few classic New Jersey staples: pork roll sandwiches such as Taylor Ham, saltwater taffy at the Jersey shore, and Italian hot dogs at roadside restaurants up and down the state. But, it is the smell of Taylor Ham cooking on a griddle that always brings me back to Grandma's kitchen.
An accumulation of memories
After painting my grandfather in Jersey Central Engineer (Arthur Desch), I was asked by my Uncle Jake to paint a companion piece of Grandma Edith Desch. His wish to honor both of his parents with my paintings of them was of great interest to me. In artworks such as these two portraits, venturing back into my childhood memories is an essential part in crafting a painting. Sadly, my grandmother passed away in 1976 and time has faded even the photographs we have of her. I would have to dig deep and remember the woman that my grandfather nicknamed Lightning. Hearing my extended family's stories of their times with the Desch clan helped me settle upon an idea for my portrait of Grandma Desch. She needed to be in her kitchen and she would need to have a warmth of spirit. Her painting would be built from an accumulation of memories.
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