about the work

The house that George built

I don’t often comment on the commission paintings I create. But this one is exceptional. This painting was requested by the folks at Lesaffre/Red Star Yeast plant in Cedar Rapids. A leader at Lesaffre was retiring, and the company wanted to give that man a painting of the impressive facility he helped to build,

Some creativity was necessary to get the reference photo for this painting. I had to get permission from the Eastern Iowa Airport to fly the drone I used to take the photo. I worked hard to give this painting an impressionist feel, in the spirit of Claude Monet. I’d like to believe that Monet himself would have painted this subject just like this, if he had access to drone technology!

When you look closely at this canvas, you see what appear to be indiscriminate blobs and random smudges of paint. But when you step back from the painting, you see the beautiful light and shadows, the shapes, lines, colors and forms come together to create something far better than any photograph.

This was a fascinating subject to paint. I would be very interested to make a similar painting on a larger scale. 18 in. x 24 in. is certainly a fine size, but can you imagine what a painting like this would look like at 36 x 48 or larger? It would be an exceptional tour de force! I hope the folks at Lesaffre will consider a larger painting like this in the future.

I was pleasantly surprised by how much green there is in this view. It highlights the beauty of the Iowa landscape, and how nicely this industrial subject fits into that landscape.

For you art fans out there, I kept the palette limited to just 5 colors, and focused on a mix of secondary colors as the predominate range. The paint colors I used are Cadmium Red Medium, Cadmium Yellow, Ultramarine Blue and Titanium White, with a tiny amount of Burnt Umber. From those 5 colors, I was able to create the mix of oranges, purples and greens that you see. No black paint was used at all. I mixed a combination of the red and blue to achieve the darkest darks.

Learning a new ‘Language’

I believe that different styles of painting may be compared to the way we communicate in different languages. This work explores a style of painting that is a language in which I am not altogether fluent—the language of abstract art. Though I love and appreciate abstract art, I have been a realist painter all of my life.

In this abstract work, I decided to simplify line, form and color to create an image that could be interpreted by the viewer as anything they wanted. It’s an exciting exercise, and I’m still working on learning the language.

Georges Seurat once said "Art is Harmony. Harmony is the analogy of the contrary and of similar elements of tone, of colour and of line.” In the desire to make this a successful, aesthetically pleasing painting, the same rules of composition, color and balance still apply. With Abstract I, I chose acrylics over oils, which forced me to work quickly and kept the energy flowing. Why not be a multi-lingual painter?

I was in Llandudno, Wales, during the spring of 2018 when I snapped a photo of this older couple leaving The Imperial Hotel. It was another one of those moments I knew would make an interesting painting, not only for the seaside location, but for the narrative playing out before me. Llandudno is an old resort town in North Wales, and the couple had just checked out of The Imperial Hotel ahead of us, wheeling their luggage to a waiting tour bus.

The scene is warm and serene. I love the bright morning light, the long shadows, and the Union Jack flags fluttering in the sea breeze. I absolutely love the reflected sunlight coming from the unseen hotel windows on the left, illuminating the shadows on the walkway in the foreground.

Even though the title has a political theme, this painting is really about the couple. I am fascinated by the juxtaposition of the man, walking down the long, sloping ramp, and his tiny, bespectacled better-half, walking way out ahead of him.

What is their story? The gentleman, walking with a cane, wore a tweed flat cap, popular in that part of the UK. The couple appeared to be proper English pensioners on holiday. Had the two stayed at the hotel when they were young, perhaps on their honeymoon? The Imperial Hotel has been in that same location since 1872, so it’s possible. Why is she walking so far ahead of him? Was she impatient or angry with him? We will never know. We have no idea what their journey is all about.

There could be many possible narratives in this scene. And for once, I kind of like the ambiguity. However, to me the scene reminds me that life is a journey. The painting is largely about loneliness, the kind that you feel even when you’re surrounded by other people.

Steel Sentinels

On August 10, 2020, the midwest was hit by a Derecho—a rare inland hurricane

The August derecho was the most costly thunderstorm disaster in U.S. history. Straight-line winds as high as 140 mph were recorded. The storm complex, blamed on four deaths, hit Cedar Rapids, Iowa, particularly hard, cutting power to the entire city for a week or more, and damaging most of its businesses and homes. Over $11 billion in damages have been reported.

A number of farms will never recover. Many huge grain-storage units were demolished by the derecho, with an estimated $300 million in structural losses alone. This grain operation, east of Marshalltown, Iowa, was devastated.

My central intention was to capture the impact of this natural disaster. The choice of subject matter was endless. The winds, which lasted 40 minutes or more, laid waste to millions of acres of crops and brought down many thousands of trees. According to early estimates, more than 3.5 million acres of corn and 2.5 million acres of soybeans were affected in Iowa—about 20 percent of the state’s total farmland. Driving west between Cedar Rapids and Keystone, Iowa, one could see that every single farm along Highway 30 was either damaged or destroyed. Barns that had stood for 100 years were reduced to kindling.

Finding beauty in the devastation

2020 was another rough year for farmers. After trade wars, low commodity prices and bankruptcies, the derecho only added to Iowa’s misery. How could I find beauty in this devastation? I focused on this cluster of farm structures as my subject.

I started this project by staining canvas with paint I made myself. I took waste toner—a very fine grey powder—from the color printer at my office, and mixed with oil paint, solvent and linseed oil. The result was a dark grey base that seemed to fit the mood perfectly. If I could keep waste toner out of the landfill, use it as pigment and turn it into a work of art, that’s a win.

Like the photo of the New York City postal worker, (which became the award-winning painting Fanfare for the Mailman), the reference for Derecho Rhapsody had an unplanned but serendipitous start. With my iPhone, I was able to capture a rough photo of the destruction. Driving by the wreckage at 65 mph did not allow for the best photo, but I was excited by the composition I was able to capture. I was prepared to get a better reference photo several weeks later, but by then, all of the remaining grain bins had been torn down and removed, undoubtedly sold for scrap. The drive-by photo would suffice.

There is something nearly abstract about these silhouetted shapes, the texture of the steel highlighted by dying sunlight. These elements help portray a sense of movement—the wind-blown grass in the foreground to the tumultuous clouds above. The chiaroscuro of the bins, contrasted by the powerful diagonal slash of white, where the steel has collapsed. The color palette is muted, yet dramatic. Warm vermillon and yellow ochre play off the dark, rich alizarin crimson and ‘blauschwarz’, a favorite blue-black paint from Germany.

Despite the dark and ominous clouds, there is something oddly reassuring about the structures in this painting. They are sentinels of steel. Clearly, they have been pummeled by the storm, the large bin imploded, as if struck by a giant fist. Yet that threatening sky also suggests a sunset, the golden hour that proclaims the worst has passed, and we may have actually survived.

I reached a minor epiphany last year, after painting Long Shadows on the Short Farm. The grain bins that dot the Iowa landscape are more than just structures of steel and concrete. To growers, they represent the outcome of their endless labor—the grain inside is like money in the bank. But in a larger sense, these bins symbolize the very heart and lifeblood of Iowa—our lives and livelihood.

In many ways this painting is an allegory of the year 2020.
This particular bin is a character all it’s own—bruised and beaten, but still standing. Until it wasn’t.

Exploded Cube, Summer Solstice

Stylistically, I have been exploring the use of a meandering brush line since early 2019, when I used that technique to finish an award-winning painting, One Last Walk Together. I built up several layers of those brushstrokes, in various warm tones, utilizing opaque and transparent washes of color. I then combined metallic pigments of gold and copper (that I found from a German company), mixed with a clear medium. I added the metallic gold and copper to the edges of the canvas. I’m not a big fan of signing an abstract work of art, because I do not want a signature to distract from the visual. However, I signed this painting in gold, and it does not distract, because it can only be seen if the light is at just the right angle.

One Last Walk Together

This painting was commissioned for a friend, Shawn McRae. I started the underpainting on this 24" x 48" canvas January 5, 2019, from a photo Shawn took of his wife Jennifer (right) and their daughter Brenna. They are walking west on Chicago’s Navy Pier, the summer before Jennifer died unexpectedly. She was only 44 years old. As the title implies, there is a poignancy in this composition, as their teenage daughter holds her mother’s hand. Together they walk towards the skyline, and a day of fun in Chicago.

I believe we remember the happiest times of our lives in warm colors. My intention was to capture a real family moment with all the warmth and unabashed sentiment that oil paints on canvas will allow, because I believe that is how the McRae family will remember that day.

The vanishing point of the painting is the Chicago skyline, and the shaft of light between the buildings.

The most important focal point—in fact the exact center of the painting—are of the two clasped hands. I took some artistic liberties with the light and tone of the painting. I warmed the light and sky, and added tertiary colors to an otherwise grey brick foreground.

It took awhile before I was satisfied with the foreground. I worked and reworked that area many times, until I was inspired by a style of painting I saw via the Gagosian Gallery in New York. The Gagosian presented a special exhibition of contemporary Indigenous Australian painting in an exhibit called “Desert Painters of Australia”. These paintings created wonderful depth by the use of meandering brush work. In retrospect, I also was influenced by the minimalist paintings of New York artist Brice Marden. I adapted that creative technique in my own style.

To make a single moment eternal—that is my goal when creating a work of art. An oil painting, properly cared for, should last hundreds of years, perhaps longer. So it is very reassuring to know that, in 'One Last Walk Together', Jennifer will always be holding her daughter’s hand, for many generations to come.

Long Shadows on the Short Farm

Entitled “Long Shadows On The Short Farm” this painting features the Short Family Farm, located east of Quasqueton, and north of Troy Mills, Iowa.

The painting is based on a photo that I took at 6:44 pm, September 23, 2018, about 10 minutes before sunset. I used my drone’s onboard camera to compose and capture the photo. A drone can be a wonderful tool that enables us to experience the world from a different viewpoint, and I like the perspectives they create.

It was a beautiful, blue sky day, and the last sunbeams lightly fell on the half-harvested fields in a glorious golden light. My goal was to capture the drama of that light and shadow, the powerful panorama and the beauty in the fleeting moments of a fall day in Iowa. Special thanks to Phil and Jan Short for allowing me access to their farm to capture these images. (Click on photo to see progression).

I started this canvas on January 17, 2019. Painting this was a way to escape the brutal cold—during one of the longest, coldest winters on record in the Midwest—and relive those lingering moments of autumn sunlight. I especially enjoyed capturing the warm golds and oranges of the light, juxtaposed by the cool purples and blues of the shadows. I finished the work on March 31, 2019, and I’m encouraged by the final result. I believe if you can make a cattle feedlot aesthetically pleasing, you have a successful painting!

The Short Family has farmed the gently rolling hills in Eastern Iowa since 1912. I have photographed Phil over many seasons, while he has planted and harvested this great land.

Fall is one of the most beautiful times of the year in Iowa. It’s also a wistful time—tinged with melancholy because we know what’s coming. So Iowans appreciate every moment they can outside while the sun shines and the weather is pleasant. To me, that is a subtext of this painting. The beauty of the Iowa landscape, giving up it’s bounty, and the grain bins, dotting the horizon like temples—which store that bounty—in preparation for the long winter sure to come.

Tornado Watch, Fall

A symbol of Americana and cultural heritage for a simpler time, 'tornado' slides like this one were once common in parks and playgrounds across the Midwest, but have slowly disappeared over the years. This slide is located at Denton Park in Manchester, Iowa, and appears to have been repainted many times, in different colors. This oil painting is first in a series of 4, featuring the subject matter in each season of the year.

Tornado Watch, Winter

This was the second work I painted in the four seasons series (tap on photo to view). I managed to get the reference photo on April 8, 2018, after the very last snowstorm of the season. I actually started this painting before I was finished with Tornado Watch, Fall. I finished Winter about a month later. In many ways, this painting was the most difficult to create. The light was very flat and everything was subdued. But in the end, I was pleased with the results. To see a favorite summer icon covered in snow tells a story even beyond the original tornado slide narrative. It speaks to loneliness, but it also hints that the fun and carefree days of summer lay just below the layer of white. The Fall version of this series won 1st Place in Oil Painting at the 2018 Iowa State Fair.

Tornado Watch, Spring

Ah, Spring. I started this 30" x 30" painting on June 30, 2018. 
I took Harley, our soft-coated wheaten terrier, along on a 45-minute drive to Manchester, Iowa, to capture the photo used for this painting. Harley sits at the bottom of the slide, as if he is waiting for someone to come down. He is a good boy. I took this late in the day of May 6, 2018, shortly before I traveled to Ireland and Wales. I especially like the long shadows and the bright greens typical of a spring day in Iowa. Tornado Watch, Spring was the fastest painting to complete in the series. I started it on June 30, and put on the finishing touches on July 19, 2018.

Tornado Watch, Summer

This is a time-lapse view of Tornado Watch, Summer. I started this 30" x 30" painting on August 9, 2018. (tap on photo to view) The Fall version of this series won 1st Place at the Iowa State Fair the same week. I took the reference photo for this painting the previous fall, before the leaves turned. I saved this Summer version until last, because I wasn’t sure how the ‘green-on-green’ of the slide against the trees would work. As it turned out, it is my favorite of the four.

I talked to Angie Corcoran, a friend who grew up in Manchester, Iowa. She told me that she played on this slide when she was a child, at Denton Park (known as ‘the hospital park’ to her and her friends) In a real sense, this slide represents childhood to me.

Red Steeple in Attersee
(Evangelische Kirche)

I started this 36" x 36" painting June 2, 2018, and finished it 24 days later, on June 26, 2018. This church is located in the village of Attersee, Austria. It is down the hill and a stones-throw away from The Pilgrimage Church of Mary, a church I painted in late January, 2018. I was intrigued by the red steeple, in one of the most idyllic places on earth. The foundation of this church dates back to the 9th century.

Wallfahrtskirche Maria - The Pilgrimage Church of Mary — Attersee, Austria

This is the Wallfahrtskirche Maria (The Pilgrimage Church of Mary) in Attersee, Austria. I started this 48" x 24" painting in late January, 2018. 

This region of Austria—known as The Salzkammergut—is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. The great Austrian painter Gustav Klimpt spent his summers around this lake, and painted here frequently in the early 1900s. Scenes from "The Sound of Music" were filmed nearby.  It is peaceful, alluring and timeless.

The lake in this painting is Lake Attersee, and the church is called 'Wallfahrtskirche Maria', or The Pilgrimage Church of Mary. It is a landmark in the town of Attersee. The church was built in the 15th century, but as early as the 6th century, a Bavarian duke held court on this hill.

I first visited this region in 1984, when I was a student at the University of Northern Iowa, and returned again to the nearby town of Bad Ischl, to sing with the UNI Men's Glee Club in 1988. 
In 2012, I was fortunate to return yet again. This time, I hired a taxi driver to make the 45 minute drive from Salzburg. He drove me all around the lake, while I took photos like a mad man. I'm sure the taxi driver thought I was indeed a crazy American. But he seemed grateful for the work. He told me that he and his wife had a new baby at home. I gladly paid the driver €90, plus a €10 tip, for transporting me to this idyllic place. It was well worth it.

I understand why Gustav Klimpt created so many paintings around Attersee. It is a captivating, charming and stunningly beautiful place. In many ways, this area is the same as it was 100 years ago.  I am very taken by this part of Austria, and like Klimpt, I plan to make more paintings of it.

The State of Disunion, 2018

This work depicts the artist's concern over the sense of division in the United States at the beginning of the 21st century. In a nod to Jasper Johns, the upper third of the painting symbolizes the endless horizon, optimism and golden sunlight that is either the promise of the future, or a nostalgic look back at the past. The flag tumbles over a cliff, in long brushstrokes not unlike a waterfall into the abyss. The stars, no longer unified, float away, forming a modified question mark. In the words of Abraham Lincoln, "A house divided against itself cannot stand."

A Slice of Heaven

I started this 36" x 48" painting in September, 2018. (tap on photo to view) The Marlow family had the pleasure of traveling to Jacksonville, Florida in June of 2018. We were the guests of Brian & Karen Putzke, who built this beautiful lake by their home near St Austustine. Karen was a big help in the composition of this work, as she furnished many reference photos. But for the creation of this painting, it was even better to see this lake in person.

I entitled this work “A Slice of Heaven” because it is such a beautiful and idyllic place, calming and peaceful. I believe that someday when they retire, Brian and Karen plan to build a new home with a view of their lake. Until then, they will just have to make do with this reminder above the fireplace.

Approaching Storm, Chicago

"I was standing on the 94th floor of the John Hancock Tower, one thousand feet above the streets of Chicago, when a powerful storm blew in from the west. The storm had already done damage to some of the outlying suburbs. The wind and rain hit the west side of the tower with impressive force. It was like standing in the middle of a dark and violent storm cloud." — Paul Marlow

It was that energy, combined with the majestic skyline, that inspired the painting.

While working on Approaching Storm, Chicago, during September 2011, I mentioned the painting in a letter to a friend. “I made more progress on the Chicago painting tonight, and I am VERY close to finished. Just have a few details to add, such as the antenna on the Sears (Willis) Tower. I am proud of this painting—the storm looks realistic. I am wondering what a Chicagoan would think of it! I have enjoyed working on this painting, but I am ready to start the next project.”

Quaker Oats, Sunrise, February 9

My wife and I were having breakfast in the restaurant at the top of a hotel just south of this scene, in 2014, when I got the idea for this painting. It depicts the Quaker Oats cereal plant in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on a cold Sunday morning. It is the largest cereal factory in the world. I was intrigued by the warm sunlight and cool shadows, the repeated image of the silos, the reflections on the wet pavement and the steamy atmosphere. I started preliminary sketches on October 1, 2016, and put the finishing touches on it June 7, 2017. "Quaker Oats, Sunrise, February 9" won second place in the Iowa State Fair Fine Arts Exhibition, out of 62 oil paintings entered in the 2017 competition.

Parking Ramp Number One and Two

A parking ramp would seem to be one of the least aesthetically pleasing subjects for a painting. In the summer of 2011, the city of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, demolished the first parking ramp ever built in the city. After removing the parking area, only the 1950’s era corkscrew ramp remained. I found beauty in the shape, light and shadow of the ramp. It looked “like some kind of alien sculpture, driven into the banks of the Cedar River.” There was something fascinating about it.

People started showing up with cameras to photograph it. The ramp remained for a couple of weeks, until it too was demolished. 

Into The West

The painting titled “Into the West” came about as a conceptual work. A friend of mine, Jason Spangler, showed me a photo of a painting that belonged to his sister. Her painting was of a man walking down railroad tracks, with a pack slung over his back, executed in an amateur style. I was intrigued by the idea, and believed I could create a better painting.

I remembered an old signal along a railroad track near the Amanas, and took some photos at the location. I had a lot of fun painting this. To me, this painting is about our life’s journey, the choices we make, and taking time to appreciate the beauty all around us—especially in moments of solitude.

Roaming around Europe

Wanderlust may be encoded in my DNA. My grandfather, Fritz Viering, emigrated from Germany in 1923 to seek his fortune in America. In turn, I have had the opportunity to travel to Europe 12 times since 1984.

In May 2012, I traveled to Austria and Germany. For €90, I hired a taxi to take me from Salzburg, Austria to Lake Attersee in the Salzkammergut, summer home of the great Austrian painter Gustav Klimpt. I asked the taxi driver to drive all around the lake, stopping at various points. I made hundreds of photos. Inspired by Klimpt, the painting Litzlberg am Attersee is based on the same composition as a Klimpt work from 1914, but in my own style. 

Litzlberg is a little Austrian village near Salzburg. This painting is based on a Gustav Klimpt work that was stolen by the Nazis during WWII. I gave it my own style, but I really love the composition. Austria is one of the most beautiful places on earth... And someday, I would love to retire to that little house on the left with the orange-tiled roof.

"Kirche am Attersee was inspired by Klimpt. The location is in the town of Attersee, just a short distance southwest of Litzlberg, Austria, along the same shoreline that Kilmpt painted in 1914. The name of the church in this painting is "Wallfahrtskirche Maria" and it is a small but beautiful Catholic church. I emulated Klimpt's delineated style but simplified the shapes and textures. I love the onion-domed churches in Austria—they are a clear indication that we are not in Kansas—and if there was a way to live inside of a painting, this is one of the places I would like to be.
I can imagine waking up in the morning, walking down the hill to the local bäckerei or café and chatting with the locals, saying 'guten morgen' to the pastor outside the church, on my way to the sailboat along the shoreline, where I raise the anchor and go sailing around the lake... I hope the owner of the sailboat doesn't mind."
—Paul Marlow

“Painting is just another way of  keeping a diary.” 
— Pablo Picasso

Cafe on the Danube

After a boat ride on the Danube river in Austria, I noticed this charming cafe, near the town of Spitz, in May 2012. It was surrounded by a vineyard, and the Danube flowed right behind it. This place was almost too sweet—it seemed made for a tourists’ guidebook. But there was something about it that made me want to capture it.

Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the
English language.
— Henry James

Iowa Landscape

One of the greatest influences on my early work was the regional art of fellow Iowans Grant Wood and Marvin Cone. The painting “Iowa Landscape” is inspired by an untitled work by Cone. It is about 3 times the size of Cone’s original. I love the similarities between the round, billowy trees and the clouds. 

Cityscape on a morning walk

A few months before my 45th birthday, my family joined the local YMCA in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Every morning, I got up before sunrise and walked the track on the second floor of the Helen G. Nassif YMCA downtown. The track afforded an excellent view of the watertower on the building to the southeast. Lap after lap, I watched the changing scene as the sun rose. I decided it would make an interesting series of paintings.

On a chilly October morning in 2011, I captured the changing light, from the moments just before sunrise to the view at 7:15 AM and at 9:00 AM. I attempted to capture the way the sky lit up, the changing light and the way the shadows moved across the buildings. I was especially intrigued by the light on the side of the building, and the strong composition. The sunrise work was painted later in the winter, and features a view of “Mt Trashmore”, a Cedar Rapids municipal landfill,  in the distance between the buildings.

“I guess I’m not very human.
All I really want to do is paint light
on the side of a house.”

—Edward Hopper

Gate 10

On a family vacation to Florida in October 2011, I took note of the accompanying scene at the Orlando/Sanford Airport. 

Regarding Gate 10, I was interested in this solitary traveler, waiting for his flight in a busy airport. I asked my daughter Betsy to snap a photo of the scene, and from that photo I created this painting.

We are all on a journey. I am fond of the old saying ‘It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey’, as a metaphor of life. There are those who don’t want to think about the plane ride—they just want to be home. And then there are those who live in the moment. They appreciate the journey for all that it is, even if there are moments of loneliness, or boredom and waiting along the way. The waiting area, and the jet represent the gifts of the journey, rather than the end result. In the clearly stated, light-filled structures of Gate 10, this work speaks about the solitary journey of the traveler in the oceanic sprawl of this vast country.

“If you could say it in words, there
would be no reason to paint.”

—Edward Hopper

Exploring Minimalism

A month before traveling to New York in 2013, I painted a series of 3 minimalist pieces, “Powerful”, “Warm” and “Cool”. Throughout my 30 years in commercial art direction and design, I have used color to create a mood.  In this series, I focused on the fundamentals of color, and how combinations of different colors work together to affect the viewer’s emotions. 

Brooklyn Gothic

I was in New York at the end of June, 2013. I rode a bike from Hell's Kitchen to the Brooklyn Bridge and back.  

“I rented a bike and rode all round Lower Manhattan. It was a real adventure! There was something interesting everywhere I looked. I snapped as many photos as I could until my iPhone battery died.” I painted Brooklyn Gothic as a way to capture the timeless strength of the old bridge, emphasized by the strong diagonals and the use of light and shadows.

The Golden Hour

The title of this painting is a double-entendre. The long shadows denote the time of day, the last hour before sunset, or the first hour after sunrise, as the 'golden hour'. And the work also features a golden retriever catching a Frisbee in mid-air. 

“This is the work that marked my return to oil painting, in March, 2011. I saw a similar piece in Galena, Illinois at the now-closed Brio Art Gallery, and I was inspired. The Frisbee-catching dog is my tribute to our beloved golden retriever, Kinder.”

The Lodge at Backbone

The Lodge at Backbone is the first painting Marlow ever painted ‘plein air’, or in the open air. In an email to Richard Butschi, Marlow wrote, “I just invested in a French easel, so I can try my hand at a little plein air painting. Not sure when I will have the time to do that. But sometimes, you have to just MAKE the time!” He set up his easel on a thin peninsula, and painted for several hours. A thunderstorm churned past to the north, creating fast-moving clouds. “The sky was changing so fast, I could barely keep up,” recalled Marlow. A wedding took place on the old stone landing (far right), and the ceremony was over before Marlow finished. 

“There is only one true thing: instantly paint what
you see. When you've got it, you've got it. When you haven't, you begin again. All the rest is humbug.”

— Edouard Manet

Transit of Mercury

Transit of Mercury started as an abstract painting, but trasitioned into a simple painting of the sun. A transit of Mercury was in the news at the time I started this work. An alternative title for this might be "There's a Little Black Spot on the Sun Today" — With my apologies to Sting.

Untitled (Red Hot)

Vincent van Gogh once said, "I dream my painting and I paint my dream."
That may be one way to describe this work, painted in the late winter/early spring of 2013.

Arizona Sunrise

This originally untitled work was a color study of light and atmosphere. I named it "Arizona Sunrise" after I learned that the collector who bought it planned to install the painting at his home in Arizona.

Shaved Ice

A portrait of Elizabeth (Betsy) Marlow, as she poses in front of the Früitzen Frozen Yogurt stand in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I have avoided painting portraits most of my life, so I challenged myself with this work. It's a snapshot of pure summer Americana—a drive-thru glowing with late-day sun, a bright striped shirt and sweet flavored ice. Technically, I like what's going on in this painting—the tension between light and dark, and the composition. Betsy tilted her head, so I compensated by rotating her to make her eyes level with the viewer, which in turn created the strong diagonals. I hoped to capture a bit of my daughter's intrinsic beauty and outgoing personality, despite the intense light and hard shadows. Incidentally, this happens to be my first painting that features a logo I designed—Früitzen—for my friend Jason Spangler. Sadly, the Früitzen stand is no longer at this location. It's currently a drive thru BBQ shack. 

Iowa Gothic / The White Barn near Solon (Unfinished)

"I started this painting in the summer of 2013. I was riding my bike north of Solon, Iowa, and came upon a very tidy farm with this impressive white barn. So many old barns in Iowa are disappearing, but this one had been lovingly cared for. The curved roof and extended gable gave it a distinctive look. 2013 seemed to be the year of the gothic arch for me (see Brooklyn Gothic above), hence the name.
I was struck by the simplicity and the quiet strength of this old structure."

Railroad Sunset Revisited (Unfinished)

I like the style of Edward Hopper. He is one of my favorite artists, and this unfinished work is an homage to Railroad Sunset, painted 85 years ago. (Edward Hopper, Railroad Sunset, 1929, oil on canvas, 29-1/4 x 48 in.)

Over a Labor Day weekend, my daughter Betsy and I painted together, and since Betsy is into painting sunsets, I suggested we emulate the famous Hopper painting. When I was studying art at the university, I copied Hopper's Early Sunday Morning, in acrylic, and I fell in love with his style. Hopper once said,  "It takes a long time for an idea to strike. Then I have to think about it for a long time. I don't start painting until I have it all worked out in my mind. I'm all right when I get to the easel". Trying to deconstruct this painting—to figure out how he did it—was interesting."

I also was drawn to this painting because it is a companion piece to my 2011 work, Into the West. Railroads have become a forgotten part of 20th century Americana, and evoke feelings of adventure, nostalgia and longing. Railroad Sunset makes me feel all of those things.

They Just Fade Away

"They Just Fade Away" depicts a tumultuous midwest sky, and features an abandoned Farmall tractor in the foreground.
I was inspired by a tractor I saw while riding a bike trail near Ely, Iowa. 

Nearly everywhere you look in the state of Iowa, you can find remnants of the glory days of American agriculture. I was riding past a farm pasture and spotted this sad old soldier alone on a hill, rusting away. I felt it was important to capture it, before it too faded away. Though the tractor is the focal point, the real subject of the painting is the threatening sky. I was interested in those rolling clouds. This is not an idyllic blue sky day. To me, this work symbolizes the monumental change in American agriculture, since the days when my grandfathers farmed.

In-n-Out Burger, Burbank, California

My brother Patric and I were in Los Angeles in June, 2013. I had heard about In-N-Out Burger, so we found this restaurant just off the Hollywood Freeway. The cheeseburgers were fantastic. While waiting for our food, I captured a photo of the workers behind the counter.
I was intrigued by the mid-century look of the place, the reflections off the stainless steel, and the neon sign proclaiming "Quality You Can Taste". "In-N-Out Burger, Burbank, California" portrays the atmosphere and activity of a popular fast-food restaurant in Southern California. 

There is a lot going on in this painting. The neon, the palm tree tiles, the freeway off-ramp just outside the drive thru window—it's a snapshot of California, and a slice of life in 21st century America.

In truth, the restaurant in the painting is not actually located in Burbank. "After lunch, Pat and I drove to Warner Brothers Studios in Burbank, to see a taping of "The Conan O'Brien Show". Since all of the smaller cities run together in LA, I thought we were in Burbank. Though close
to Burbank, the actual location of the restaurant is at the corner of Regal and Cahuenga Blvd., north of Hollywood, in Los Angeles.
The blueish building seen through the drive-thru window is the Comcast/NBC Universal office building. 
I decided to keep Burbank in the title, because I like the name. Burbank. It’s fun to say.

Bottleworks-Water Tower Place

Bottleworks-Water Tower Place is a larger version of a tryptic I created in 2012. This was commissioned by Tom and Cathy Petersen, who saw the original three paintings at the 2017 NewBo Arts Fest in Cedar Rapids, Iowa on Sept 3, and asked me to paint this for them. It was interesting to revisit a setting 5 years after painting the original. 

Twin Lakes, Colorado

I love the Rocky Mountains. I spent the summer of 1985 working in Summit County, Colorado, about a stone's throw away from Lake Dillon. "Twin Lakes, Colorado" was created for Deb Smock, as a present from her husband Dean. If you continue driving west from Twin Lakes, you will cross over Independence Pass, and eventually reach Aspen, Colorado. It's a beautiful part of the country, even more so because it hasn't been overdeveloped.

Golden Colorado Hokey Pokey

This is a time-lapse view of “Golden Colorado Hokey Pokey”. I started this 24" x 30" painting in October, 2018. (tap on photo to view) But the planning began over a year ago. This work was commissioned by Thom & Jane Pritz, a very nice family who wanted to do something special for their daughter Hannah and son-in-law. They were married in Golden last year. You can tell by the painting that they must have had a fun wedding, because the entire wedding party wore sandals during the ceremony.

After searching through dozens of photos from the wedding, the clients chose this image—though not quite. The original photo only had 4 of the 6 feet in it. I included the other 2 feet in the composition, by request.

Every painting tells a story. I like the unique sandals, highlighting each person’s style and personality. The background, which is glazed ceramic tile, gives the painting an almost abstract feel. I must admit that this is the first time I have ever painted feet. Rendering any part of the human body realistically can be a challenge, but I had a lot of fun with this. Even though I used photos as a reference, I did not want this painting to look like a photograph. I wanted to keep it ‘painterly’, and I feel very good about the result.

© 2011-2022 Paul Marlow. All rights reserved.