Let me paint Ralston in a sort of poetic prose:
It seemed to me he dropped down from nowhere
Heaven, if I must guess
Almost suddenly to me
With a sack full of paintings
And some brushes and paint stuff
A variety of
Something for all
Such a wide variety he bundled with him
We know there were more
For
Everywhere he turned
Still from the artistic ethereal
New artwork insistently emerged
It filled pallet and canvas
Walls, mantle, stairway, halls
A child’s room
In the old brick house
Quite suited for the artist
For when deeply into work
The old house provided
Dimension after dimension
Extracting creativity and joy
Productivity purpose
Driving Ralston
To studio
To gallery
It was like a new reality
Was born with every hue, every brush stroke
Lines and shapes combined into art
Some more intentionally perfect, almost duplicate,
Others freehand
Proliferating at a feverish pace so unique
Art collectors began to say I need A RalstonFox
Original in my hallway, my cozy box, foyer, bedroom
Down my impressive corporate hallway!
What was launched into being were thousands
Upon thousands of sketches
Far more than a lifetime can handle
(Have you seen his sketchbook?
Is a work of art itself)
Driven by the artists trained eye, heart and desire.
Paintings big and small and tiny and photo art
New directions beginning glided hued-touched canvas
In unbridled fancy
To dazzle the mind’s eye
Presently, I sense a third phase creeping into the RalstonFox art collection.
Landscapes and structures evolved into shadowed angles and cubism
It seemed to evolve ad infinitum, everything new toward
Full circle as photos of people, landscapes, unexpected angles
Are creeping back into the artist’s dream world:
Into Large,
Bold,
Inspiring
Eye catching,
Relaxing,
Happy
Pleasantly
As a refreshingly fun
Spectacular genre, Photo Art
(I hope to see more)
And just like that
As quick as it was all conceived
In the height of an art career
Ralston disappeared?
Some say he stepped into ** his bamboo jungle painting
Or was folded up in the unique sheer-like purple-toned angle portrait
Or stepped into a favorite landscape!
Whichever, he had accomplished the ultimate illusion,
Had his work finally consumed him?
He had become his art?
HELLO-O-O-o-o-o-o!!!
I sit an wait patiently on my gallery bench
For What?
For Fox to step out of a cube or the “grainery”
Or island beachball landscape,
Rejoin me
And sit awhile
For we come by here but once - by one so intensely dedicated to creativity
So blessed as he is
Handsomely Humble he is
To share with
Me and you, us all
As he walks this earth in search
Of more
Sees it
Sketches it
Records it
Paints it
In a genre all his own -
And who it’s worth the wait for,
Ralston Fox Smith
Father, friend, Artist Extraordinaire
A poem in “Sandburg pentameter,” respectfully by,
tom tenbrunsel
A Carl Sandburg Writer 2023
Check out his artwork on Facebook at Ralston Fox Smith Photos
*Composed on occasion of Fox’s sixtieth birthday
** Addendum: Rumor has it that having vanished into one of his paintings that Fox will occasionally step out briefly from another one of his paintings wherever it be, be it in gallery, a private gallery, perhaps in the old brick home, one of his friends or children’s paintings on their wall - just for a brief visit or to say hello or a simple thank you. Traveling the backroads behind his works of art. Rumor?
Comments