“Poetry is not an element of nature, but a quality of the painter’s mind.”
– Charles Caffin, 1903

Each year at about this time I realize how much I love autumn. The cold nights and evening fires, the cool days and brilliant light, the falling color and the undressing of nature are all to be enjoyed. But I also love that the summer crowds are gone and I, along with my family, settle into a routine. I can get back in the studio and work without interruptions.
This week I started two new paintings and have a head full of ideas of paintings that I want to do. Is each painting not at its most exciting stage when it is just the inspiration, full of all possibilities, safely in one’s mind? By the time the idea reaches the canvas it seems as if the painting goes its own way, rarely the way I intend for it to go, and the struggle begins. But over the years I have come to love the struggle — the wrestling of inspiration and ideas against limitations and shortcomings — more than any part of painting.
May every one of you enjoy autumn as much as I do.
It was an exciting summer in and around the Lawson house and the autumn has kept right on pace. The response for the new work in my exhibition, “Growth Rings” at Ten High Street, was even better than I had hoped. October brings the release of my wife’s new book. Tex is Dorie’s third book and her first for children. It is a beautifully photographed story celebrating the imagination of a little boy who lives on the coast, but believes that he is a working cowboy in Wyoming. Though targeted for children ages three to six, its simple, straightforward story, sprinkled with humor, is appealing to all ages.
In October 1956 a nearly unknown thirteen year-old boy entered the famed Marshall Chess Club in Lower Manhattan to play the elegantly dressed and fiercely aggressive Donald Byrne, former U.S. Open Champion, in the seventh round of the Rosenwald Memorial invitational tournament. A little over five hours later the unknown boy settled his rook in place and confidently said, “Mate!” From then on the name Bobby Fischer would forever be etched into the annals of chess history.
Bobby, familiar with the style and aggressive play of his opponent through magazines and chess books, decided to attempt an unusual approach known as the Grunfeld Defense, in which he would allow Byrne, playing the white pieces, to take control of the center squares. The brilliance of Bobby’s game came when, on the 18th move, he offered his queen for Byrne to capture. By doing so, however, Bobby was able to take a bishop, and two rooks and place himself in a much stronger position. Byrne’s queen sat at the top of the board unable to move, useless, for the final nine moves.
Having played and won one of the greatest, most stunningly original games in the history of chess, Bobby Fischer launched himself onto the world scene. Chess arbiter, Hans Kmoch immediately declared the match “The Game of the Century.”
I guess it would be safe to say I have had a lifelong love for the game of chess. My father taught me to play when I was about 6 or 7 years old. On weekends I would visit my father while he managed the front office of a motel in Sheridan, Wyoming. When it was slow we would sit in the lobby and play game after game of chess. Chess has been a part of my life ever since. I’ve taught both of my sons to play and they challenge me to many spirited games. During a few of those games I have found myself intrigued with the visual aspect of the spacing of the pieces as they are moved about the board. “Opening Move” and “Mate” capture two crucial moments from the perspective of the players in a particular important game of chess.