Mansfield Holiday II Movie Camera

30" x 30"  oil on canvas The difference between how I look at my work and how other people view my work is sometimes... amusing to me. More than once, somebody has expressed interest in eating one of my paintings and the piece you see above was—at least a couple of times—identified as a toaster. It is a rather old movie camera, so anybody would be excused not knowing what it is, but when somebody wants to fight with me to prove that it is, in all actuality, a toaster? Well, it leaves me puzzled and wondering if I should have painted a couple of pieces of toast popping out of the top (a nice sharp rye, I love rye bread). When I view the painting above, I see a battlefield. To be more specific, I see the side of that dang camera (go ahead, call it a toaster) as a battlefield. If you think my only obsession is color, you haven't seen me obsess about how light travels across my work and my Herculean struggles with tonality and how my color work only makes it harder to achieve. I completely repainted the side of this camera no less than five times. And I mean completely. Every inch, just to minutely adjust the light traveling across it. So, when somebody comes up and says they want to, "...just take a bite out of it!" or that it is a really, really cool looking vintage toaster, all that is going through my addled gray cells is the memory of the gooey battles that took place over and over again across the side of that camera. That is until they lean forward with their mouth open. That usually gets my attention.


May is shaping up to be a crazy month.
Why crazy? Well, I have been judged into the wonderful Beverly Hills Art Show happening on the weekend of May 20th & 21st. On top of that, I have been asked to be a part of a two person show at the Beyond the Lines Gallery at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica. It is a spur-of-the-moment show, but it is a great opportunity and am gratified to be asked to be one of two artists in the show. Two shows in May is enough—I think—to qualify it as a crazy month, but ladle on top of that the fact that I chose now as the time of year to rearrange my bomb scene of a studio and you get complete insanity. As usual, over the next couple of weeks I will be punishing you with information about both shows, so keep an eye our for my emails.

Posted April 27, 2017

Raymond's Updated Website

I keep a to-do list next to the computer here in the studio. Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I despise that $%&#@ list. Like most people, I have utilized lists for most of my life. But my relationship with my to-do lists has been... How shall I put it?... tense. To-do lists, to me, are the epitome of pressure. They are wicked nags that glare at you like that horrible boss you had at that (fill in the blank) job you had in college. At least with that old boss, you found out later that they glared at you because they couldn't see properly and refused to wear their glasses. A to-do list glares at you and it is judging you. To-do lists also have a nasty habit of growing. "Oh, good boy. You ticked something off me. Now, here are 25 more things for you to do!" The reason I am whining about my studio to-do list is that updating my website has been on there for quite some time. It seems like years. Well, I finally did it. It is not much of a change—I really just wanted to make the images larger and maybe add a few detail shots. Please go take a look at it ( I am not sure about all the pictures, but it is at least a start AND I can finally flip the bird at that $%&#@ list. Metaphorically speaking, of course. ••• My consistent butchering of my native tongue may lead you to believe that I do not take language seriously. To prove the opposite, I would like to cite the noted Merriam-Webster editor and lexicographer Kory Stamper*. She informs us that the German word for a lower-back tattoo is 'Arschgeweih,' which literally means 'ass antlers.' Now, that is serious linguistic information we all can use!

*Stamper, Kory. Word By Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries. Pantheon, 2017 
Posted March 29, 2017

Kathy's Nikon S2

4" x 6"  oil on masonite   It has been quite a while since I have shared one of my mini (4"x6") pieces with you. It isn't that I haven't been painting them, I have. As usual, it comes down to photography. Or, to be more precise, taking the time to photograph my work—it is not one of my favorite activities. So, a painting of a camera seemed like an appropriate piece to reacquaint you with these minis o' mine. (Sorry, no detail shots. These pieces are too small for my camera or phone to successfully shoot up close.) Most of the cameras I have painted in the past are older than this one, and considering that this camera dates from sometime in the mid 1950s, it is absolutely space age in comparison. A cousin of ours loaned it to me and, quite frankly, I was on the fence about painting it. But it grew on me. So much so, that I did a larger version of it after I did this mini. I would like to thank our cousin Kathy for loaning the camera to me and compliment her on her extreme patience.
Posted March 17, 2017

sold • private collection thousand oaks, ca

1957 Chevy Truck Gauge Cluster

40" x 60"  oil on canvas (WARNING: Many would consider the following commentary to be obnoxiously long. So, if you have a pot on the stove or are performing emergency brain surgery, you might consider not reading this.) I was not even going to show you this piece today, but my mood shifted and I thought I would go out on a limb and actually type about my painting instead of continuing my incessant diatribe about the devastating cookie shortage going on around here. The above piece represents a sort of aesthetic leap. One always hopes that how you paint a piece can override a viewer's prejudice against the subject matter. For some reason, anything having to do with automobiles immediately turns off certain people. They encounter one of my "car" pieces and it is as if the piece does not exist. Don't get me wrong, I recognize that humans have distinct artistic tastes (though the amount of people who do not like paintings of toys kind of freaks me out) but the size of the "anti-car" group is astonishingly large. However, there appears to be a mystical size barrier that, when crossed, magically changes a piece from a mere subject-specific painting into a piece of "art." This old Chevy truck dashboard cluster is so dang beautiful that I decided to push it and play with the mysticism of scale. In a sense, I chose to make an aesthetic leap. The above digital image cannot truly relay scale, but when viewed in person, this five foot wide piece seems to have crossed the scale barrier. While it did not break through to everybody, this large wall of goo did reach many viewers that I think would not have been reached if the piece had been smaller. They did not seem to care that it was a "car" painting and liked it solely as art. I suppose that if I stuck to painting just one subject I could avoid my numerous encounters with people's varying tastes. That constraint is unlikely considering that limiting myself to painting just one thing would probably drive me to put a slug in my dome. (Not going to happen.) I do not paint in a "classical" fashion and pushing my style of painting larger presents many distinct challenges—limited time horizon not being the least of them. Those challenges make my larger pieces arduous marathons that leave me wiped out and desperately seeking more cookies. (Don't act surprised, you knew I would somehow bring this commentary back around to me and my important relationship with cookies. Now, if I could only get The Spousal Unit to read these commentaries. Actually, it might be better that She usually doesn't.).
Posted March 10, 2017

Raymond's Box Cameras

5' 10" x 8' consisting of 28 oil on canvas pieces each measuring 16" x 12" Painted over the course of approximately two years, this project was a heck of a challenge, took 56 dry wall screws and a good eye to hang, and, at eight feet wide by almost six feet tall, became a show piece at my LA Artcore gallery show. A lot of people just stood there staring at it and that is always gratifying. (Whether they liked it or were just thinking I was completely insane is anybody's guess.) Now, please excuse me while I go hunt for more box cameras.
Posted February 18, 2017

Wind Up Tin Toy Robot One

12"x12" oil on canvas Still on the fence about what to name these robot paintings. For now, I have defaulted to naming them either by the order in which they were painted or how they look best lined up. In any account, this chartreuse headed, one eyed fellow has been designated "One." You may remember me writing that these tin toy robots were in essence painted by royal decree and that there was to be a series of three. Well, The Spousal Unit's edict still stands and it has (possibly) been extended to a series of five. Right now, I have three done (see below). I say possibly because while many artists base their decisions on what to paint based on aesthetics or lofty inspiration or innate artistic drive or all of the above, I base at least some of my artistic decisions on the amount of brownies I am fed. Yes, in such situations as these I respond to culinary bribery. It may sound base and uninspired (and fattening), but what the heck, it works for me!
Posted February 9, 2017

Ernie Jr's Taco House

12"x18" oil on canvas You may remember my painting a smaller version of this. In the commentary for that piece I mentioned that the prompt for me to paint the sign was its impending destruction—it seemed like it was going to be razed at any moment. Well, that was back in May or June of 2015 and the derelict restaurant is still there with its stalwart, yet somewhat worse for wear chain link fence faithfully standing guard. It would appear that Lady Progress takes her own sweet time in Eagle Rock, California.
Posted February 2, 2017

Abraham Lincoln

46"x46" oil on canvas This is a big head. I painted three of these large scale "Dead Guy" portraits: Albert Einstein, Abraham Lincoln, and Edgar Allan Poe. Whilst all three of these historical giants are important to me, I will openly avow to any pour soul who wanders within earshot that the man you see above is the one I admire most. My strong admiration and respect made for a rather intense drawing session in preparation for the painting—you don't take painting a portrait of your hero lightly. (This is probably one of the reasons I have never successfully painted a portrait of my late father.) You can bet that the drawing under all that goo is as dead-on as I could make it. In a futile attempt to head off all the "Where are my detail shots of this painting?" emails, I can only offer this explanation: One cannot shoot detail shots of a piece that one no longer has. President Lincoln was never shown in public and his sale caught me a bit off guard, so my chemically addled brain did not think to take a bunch of detail shots before he left. I would say that I am sorry for the photographic omission, but the joy of selling the piece to somebody who will truly appreciate it kind of pushed the thought of saying, "I'm sorry" right out of my mind. Happiness can do that to a person.
Posted January 19, 2017

sold • private collection beverly hills, ca



20"x16" oil on canvas This is my studio daruma. I love darumas. You cannot tell if they are royally ticked off, simply benign with very odd facial hair patterns, or they are stricken with some sort of ocular condition that makes them stare at you uncomfortably making you feel overly self-conscious. If you want to know more about darumas, here is a link to their Wikipedia page: I have no idea how accurate that page is, but this is how it was told to me: When you are going to start an important project, you get one of these little paper mache dudes sans the black pupils. You paint in the left eye when you start the project and when you complete the project—reach your goal or whatever—you fill in the right eye. Then, at the end of the year or the beginning of the next year—I can never remember which—you burn the little guy. Well, there is absolutely no chance of me burning my daruma, so, pyro, put that lighter away. 


For everybody in the Southern California area:
I will have a piece hanging in the group show "The Faces Within" down at the South Bay Contemporary gallery in San Pedro. Here's the info...

The Faces Within at South Bay Contemporary
Opening Reception is this Saturday, January 14, 2017
4-7pm The Spousal Unit and I plan on being there.
There will also be an ARTist Talk on February 19th at 3pm

Exhibition Dates: January 14, thru February 19, 2017
Location: South Bay Contemporary
401 South Mesa Street, 3rd Floor
San Pedro, CA 90731
(310) 429-0973

The only teaser I have for you is that half of my face will be in the show. Beyond that, I really have no idea of how to succinctly describe the show to you, so if you live on Facebook here is a link to the event page: The Faces Within at South Bay Contemporary

Posted January 12, 2017

It's Raining Low Chucks!

8"x12" oil on canvas (each) I was thinking of taking a couple weeks off from posting, so I thought I would share the last two Low Chuck Converse paintings with you in one "Compliments of the Season" email. In my continuing attempt to disseminate not only useful, but also very valuable information, I would like to share the following: *"As an academic exercise in energy transformation, a research group at the American Physical Society calculated how loudly, and for how long, a person would have to shout at a quarter liter of coffee to bring it to 122 degrees Fahrenheit. The answer: 80 decibels of screaming—about the noise level of a running garbage disposal—applied for precisely 1 year, 7 months, 26 days, 20 hours, 26 minutes and 40 seconds." Being an avid coffee drinker myself and having been not only a witness to, but also a victim of a coffee machine breakdown, this seems completely reasonable to me. 

*Source: The Wall Street Journal
Posted January 5, 2017

Low Chuck Roasted Carrot

8"x12" oil on canvas Though the three paintings contained in this post may (and I would like to stress the word "may") speak to a possible (and I would like to stress the word "possible") issue this artist may have with collecting things, let's not touch on that subject at present. Let's see... What to type about... Oh, I could talk about how nice it is to collect art and hang it in your bathroom. For men, in particular, the space above the toilet is a hallowed place of honor for a piece of art. On second thought, the conversation about hanging art above the john is best had in person. So, let's drop that topic as well. In my defense, I would like to say that the blue shoe in the middle is not mine. That pair belongs to The Spousal Unit and yes, she looks great in them. You know, I think I should get myself a pair of those blue ones as well.
Posted December 15, 2016

1959 Plymouth Fury Dash Cluster

20"x30" oil on canvas Hopefully, my love of good design is apparent in my selection of subject matter. Design projects, just like fine art projects, are opportunities. Opportunities to bring your best to something—to hit it with all you got and hit it hard. Back in the day (what does that actually mean, anyway?) industrial designers did just that. They created sound, functioning designs with uniquely beautiful personalities. A metal power drill or a tube radio set or a camera weren't just functioning objects, they were opportunities to design something wondrous that reminded us of our love of fantasy and our joyous race into the modern age. My proclivity to collect things (addiction seems like such a strong word) has led me to acquire a few classic automobile dash/gauge clusters. I think they are just beautiful. My constant exposure to brain damaging paint fumes and the dash clusters' stand-alone beauty have prompted me to experiment by painting them as isolated pieces, rather than part of the overall dashboards they were extracted from. My five remaining brain cells and I think the experiments worked. We hope you do too.
Posted December 2, 2016

Toothpicks in Tabasco

24"x12" oil on canvas I recently had two shows open back to back—one weekend right after another. In an unusual move, running up to the shows, I created a list of possible paintings to produce. You must understand, I abhor creative/painting lists. They can depress the heck out of me as I stare at them becoming the length of the Oxford English Dictionary—ideas never stop coming. They also seem like rules to me (you must do this, but not that) and I am not fond of always following rules. Anyway, having two shows so close to each other seemed to require the creation of at least a temporary painting list. As I typed above, rules can grind on me, so I admit to occasionally (a.k.a., as many times as possible) going off-the-rails of the The List. I looked upon rebelling against The List as me attempting to maintain my sanity. (Please, no comments about how that ship has already sailed.) Going into the studio every single day with a plan or knowing exactly what I am going to do can be oppressive. The painting presented to you above was not on The List. It was a spur of the moment change that just possessed me one day. It was a curveball (stolen from the kitchen cabinet) that presented me with many unexpected challenges—just the way I like it. As to The List? It still exists, but we are not on speaking terms at the moment.
Posted November 16, 2016

Apsco Giant Pencil Sharpener and my Artcore Gallery Show

20"x30" oil on canvas ••• If you would like to see this piece in person, it is hanging in my show at Artcore. ••• The "Giant" in the title of this piece does not refer to the scale that I painted it at. It is the name of this particular model of pencil sharpener. (Though it is pretty darn big in the painting.) I do not know what it is with me and painting pencil sharpeners. Maybe I like the challenge of all the different surfaces and shapes, and the occasional translucent hopper. Maybe they remind me of simpler days gone by or of how great the industrial designers from those eras were. Or, and what's more likely, I like that they sit still while I am painting them. Yes, I am just that simple minded.


For everybody in the 
Southern California area:
I need to do some things down at Artcore, so I have decided to spend another Saturday—the last Saturday of the show—down at the gallery. And for those of you who walked in while The Spousal Unit and I were eating lunch last time, no, I will not be just sitting there eating and wishing I had ordered the burrito she ordered. Come on by and see my work and me this Saturday between 12-5 PM. And, if you are lucky, The Spousal Unit will be there. Heck, if I'm lucky, she will be there.
Raymond's Not Just Sitting There Eating Lunch at the Artcore Brewery Annex Show
Saturday, November 5, 2016
12-5pm at the LA Artcore Brewery Annex
LA Artcore Brewery Annex
(inside the Brewery Art Colony)
650A South Avenue 21, Los Angeles, CA 90031
Phone (323) 276-9320
Gallery Hours: Thursday-Sunday, 12-5 pm.

Posted August 31, 2016

sold • private collection los angeles, ca

Raymond's Show at LA Artcore Brewery Annex

Tandem Solo Show at LA Artcore Brewery Annex featuring
Dina Herrmann
and Raymond Logan
October 21 to November 10, 2016
Sunday, October 23, 2016
1-3pm at the LA Artcore Brewery Annex
LA Artcore Brewery Annex
(inside the Brewery Art Colony)
650A South Avenue 21, Los Angeles, CA 90031
Phone (323) 276-9320
Gallery Hours: Thursday-Sunday, 12-5 pm.


The first weekend of the show, October 22nd & 23rd, is the same weekend of the legendary Brewery Art Walk. If you would like to see a heck of a lot of art, meet the artists who produce the art, and see where they produce the art, this is the event for you! For more information about the Brewery Art Walk, check out this link:


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