how the legend of the pumpkin man was born

Dear Friend,

have you heard of the legend of the pumpkin man of kennett square?

one full moon night in the cornfields on the outskirts of kennett square, mister scarecrow climbed down his stake and replaced his scarecrow head with a pumpkin from the pumpkin patch, and became, mister pumpkin. “i shall try something different!” he said quite excitedly to no one.

along came some kids walking along the cornfield and he offered to them a little pumpkin treat. poor mister pumpkin, he only wanted to make a friendship offering to them, but their blood curdling shrill shrieks pierced the cold autumn air, and they could be heard many miles away. some have said as far away as philadelphia.

so the legend of the terror of the pumpkin man was born. since that frightfully misunderstood encounter, kennett square has never been the same.

Mister Pumpkin’s Friendship Offering (self portrait). Oil on panel, 8 by 6 inches.

Memory of a place: New Hope Canal Towpath

New Hope Canal Towpath, New Hope, Pennsylvania. Oil on panel, 8 by 6 inches.

Dear Friend,

I hope you are, in the least, doing okay during this pandemic. Don’t be dismayed, all shall be well. Yes, I know, from god’s mouth to my ears. But you know what? It is okay. Find yourself a quiet corner; be still; inhale; exhale; don't try so hard; you are not alone; listen to yourself breath; be patient, all shall be well.

I am working a new series, Memory of Place. It is a series of small paintings. Like postcards, they are reminders of a place — not necessarily of a specific place but a sense of a place. I hope to have more “postcards” in the months ahead. They also will be available when the oil paint has set.

The Taunters

dear friend,

the taunters have made quite a long journey with me — from asheville north carolina, to philadelphia pennsylvania, and then to kennett square pennsylvania.

this was the first stretched linen i made back in Asheville when i was attending a classical art school, which is now defunct. they taught us how to make our own rabbit skin glue and size our linen with it. i carefully stretched it and then applied ground. it was tightly stretched that you could use it like a drum!

my beautifully made blank canvas was my masterpiece. i was so proud of it that i was petrified to make even the slightest mark on its surface. it was expensive. i treated it so preciously that i stunted my potential to explore and grow. the possibilities ahead of me became limited. that finely made canvas became my creative world; it was always blank because i was afraid to ruin a perfect and expensive canvas.

i wonder if Vincent Van Gogh has gone through similar. brushes, paints, mediums, and canvases did not come cheaply; he depended on his supportive brother, Theo, for supplies. i suspect Vincent was frugal with his supplies which made too much room in his mind to be fearful of wasting them on a bad painting. perhaps he was mentally petrified he fell into a dark place — he felt incompetent; he felt he is not an artist; he felt he could not paint. it was a mental domino effect. perhaps he was experiencing what we today label as, the imposter syndrome. it was a maddening mental dead weight. i feel for you, Vincent.

i eventually gave in and did my first self-portrait, but i did not feel i was qualified to do a self-portrait. “how dare you do this” my mind seemed to taunt. so it went back into hiding for several years until kennett square where i tried to take it further, but i ruined it. several times. again, my mind seemed to taunt, “i told you so. what a waste of a perfectly made canvas!”

i made three other attempts with several scrap-downs in between them. “you are not good enough, you cannot paint!” the taunters seemed to say. the painting went back into hiding again for some more years.

“If you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint,' then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” — Vincent Van Gogh

i am familiar with Vincent Van Gogh’s quote, but sometimes i forget until it randomly came forward from the recess of my mind. i took it out of storage and dived into just doing it. the beautifully made canvas is no longer precious. it has been “ruined” up to six times, so why would it matter if i added the seventh ruin to it. ah, the taunters never seemed to cease, but i choose to be in control.

art is an expression that can be “pretty” or “ugly”. the latter is difficult to resolve because many people often think of art as something pretty to be considered worthy for their walls. yet we would hail some horror or gory novels as beautiful masterpieces! i was determined not to listen to my taunters. STFU!

Taunt. Oil on stretched linen, 34 by 20 inches.

for some weeks crows, ravens, and grackles have been in my thoughts. i scanned the Internet for images of crows to study; and in the past i have also observed their behaviors in our garden, the fields, and in documentaries. they are intelligent and cutely mischievous, but they are sometimes vicious taunters like some kindergarten kids without adult guidance! so crows became the embodiment of my taunters in this self-portrait.

everyone goes through some insecurities, and bad experiences. we see a lot of apparently perfect looking people on Instagram, but it is just that, personas. like it or not, it is a part of our human nature.

we are imperfect humans with hopes and dreams. along with them, our yins and yangs: successes and failures, dark sides and bright sides, public personas and true selves. the good and the bad are part of life. they are experiences of being human. we can learn from them if we choose to be kind to ourselves; choose to acknowledge and to learn from them; and allow ourselves to take however long it is necessary to learn from the good and the bad experiences that could make us wiser, kinder, and stronger humans.

i like to believe that if Vincent Van Gogh is alive today, he would say, “in a world where you can be anything, be kind. but most especially, be kind to yourself.”