Resume
LAWRENCE W.
LEE
PERSONAL:
Born in Ft. Smith, Arkansas, 1947
Resident of Tucson, AZ 1957-1991
Resident of Patagonia, AZ 1991-1999
Resident of Belize/Tucson 1999-2003
Resident of Tucson 2004-2008
Resident of Paris, Tennessee 2008-Presnt
Married Mary E. Wyant 1985
2 Stepdaughters
3 Grandchildren
Brother, Robert L. Lee (actor and former drama instructor)
MEMBERSHIPS:
Chairman, Congressional Fine Arts Competition Committee, 1986- 89
Friends of Western Art
Society of Southwestern Authors
OWNER:
Cirrus Arts Corporation: 1979-present
WORK EXPERIENCE:
Teacher, TUSD (Santa Rita High School, Project M.O.R.E., University High School) 1972-1979
Self-employed artist 1972-present
Director: Gallery 299, Tucson 2001-2003
PERFORMANCES:
Played the part of Henry in the Tucson Music Theater production of "The Fantasticks" (March 2002)
EDUCATION:
BFA, Northern Arizona University 1969
MA in Art Education, Northern Arizona University 1970
HONORS:
CONTEMPORARY WESTERN ARTISTS:1982-85
AMERICAN ARTISTS OF RENOWN: 1981-82
WHO'S WHO IN THE WEST (23rd Edition): 1992
Mountain Oyster Club: ARTIST MEMBER
PUBLICATIONS:
"The Mirror", published by Harbinger House (1989), Author and Illustrator
"Living With an Impostor" (2007), Author, Designer
MEDIA:
Acrylic on canvas
Bronze
Giclée
Electronic/Digital
CURRENT GALLERIES:
Tucson: The Max Gallery
Scottsdale: Joan Cawley Gallery
Tucson: Stone Dragon Studio
MAJOR EXHIBITIONS:
Minotaur Fine Arts, Ltd., Las Vegas
Walton-Gilbert Galleries, San Francisco
Joy Tash Gallery, Scottsdale
Sanders Gallery, Tucson
Via Gambaro Gallery, Washington, D. C.
Ratliff-Williams Gallery, Sedona
El Presidio Gallery, Tucson
Joan Cawley Gallery, Santa Fe/Scottsdale
Americana West Gallery, Washington, D.C.
Shadow Mountain Gallery, Jackson, Wyoming
Adagio Gallery, Palm Springs & Palm Desert
International Art Exposition, Gifu, Japan
Beth O'Donnell Gallery, Aspen
Gallery 13, New York
(Including over 20 one-person shows at these and other galleries.)
INSTITUTIONAL AND PRIVATE COLLECTIONS:
IBM Corporate Collection
Greyhound Corporation
E.F. Hutton Corporate Collection
Ruhr-West Museum
Bank One Walter Bimson Collection
Atlas Steel Corporate Collection
Indianapolis Museum of Art
The Arizona Bank
The Eiteljorg Collection, Indianapolis
Mayo Clinic, Scottsdale
Dell Webb Corporate Collection, Phoenix
Northern Arizona University Library
M.D. Buyline Corporate Collection, Dallas
Scottsdale Center for the Arts Permanent Collection
(Plus over 1,000 private collections in the United States, Japan and Europe.)
PERSONAL:
Born in Ft. Smith, Arkansas, 1947
Resident of Tucson, AZ 1957-1991
Resident of Patagonia, AZ 1991-1999
Resident of Belize/Tucson 1999-2003
Resident of Tucson 2004-2008
Resident of Paris, Tennessee 2008-Presnt
Married Mary E. Wyant 1985
2 Stepdaughters
3 Grandchildren
Brother, Robert L. Lee (actor and former drama instructor)
MEMBERSHIPS:
Chairman, Congressional Fine Arts Competition Committee, 1986- 89
Friends of Western Art
Society of Southwestern Authors
OWNER:
Cirrus Arts Corporation: 1979-present
WORK EXPERIENCE:
Teacher, TUSD (Santa Rita High School, Project M.O.R.E., University High School) 1972-1979
Self-employed artist 1972-present
Director: Gallery 299, Tucson 2001-2003
PERFORMANCES:
Played the part of Henry in the Tucson Music Theater production of "The Fantasticks" (March 2002)
EDUCATION:
BFA, Northern Arizona University 1969
MA in Art Education, Northern Arizona University 1970
HONORS:
CONTEMPORARY WESTERN ARTISTS:1982-85
AMERICAN ARTISTS OF RENOWN: 1981-82
WHO'S WHO IN THE WEST (23rd Edition): 1992
Mountain Oyster Club: ARTIST MEMBER
PUBLICATIONS:
"The Mirror", published by Harbinger House (1989), Author and Illustrator
"Living With an Impostor" (2007), Author, Designer
MEDIA:
Acrylic on canvas
Bronze
Giclée
Electronic/Digital
CURRENT GALLERIES:
Tucson: The Max Gallery
Scottsdale: Joan Cawley Gallery
Tucson: Stone Dragon Studio
MAJOR EXHIBITIONS:
Minotaur Fine Arts, Ltd., Las Vegas
Walton-Gilbert Galleries, San Francisco
Joy Tash Gallery, Scottsdale
Sanders Gallery, Tucson
Via Gambaro Gallery, Washington, D. C.
Ratliff-Williams Gallery, Sedona
El Presidio Gallery, Tucson
Joan Cawley Gallery, Santa Fe/Scottsdale
Americana West Gallery, Washington, D.C.
Shadow Mountain Gallery, Jackson, Wyoming
Adagio Gallery, Palm Springs & Palm Desert
International Art Exposition, Gifu, Japan
Beth O'Donnell Gallery, Aspen
Gallery 13, New York
(Including over 20 one-person shows at these and other galleries.)
INSTITUTIONAL AND PRIVATE COLLECTIONS:
IBM Corporate Collection
Greyhound Corporation
E.F. Hutton Corporate Collection
Ruhr-West Museum
Bank One Walter Bimson Collection
Atlas Steel Corporate Collection
Indianapolis Museum of Art
The Arizona Bank
The Eiteljorg Collection, Indianapolis
Mayo Clinic, Scottsdale
Dell Webb Corporate Collection, Phoenix
Northern Arizona University Library
M.D. Buyline Corporate Collection, Dallas
Scottsdale Center for the Arts Permanent Collection
(Plus over 1,000 private collections in the United States, Japan and Europe.)
Artist's Statement
ARTIST’S
STATEMENT
When I was a child, I would look out through my bedroom window, nose close to the old metal screen, smelling the dust of the day overlaid by redolent darkness. I would stare into the night and think about being inside and outside, about being large and small, about when and, mostly, about why. There must be answers there, I would insist to myself, and I felt that I could find them if only I knew how to form the questions. If the questions could transcend my words and, somehow, find their own magical shape, they might themselves shape the answers and I would be able to see and understand. I tried to place cold brass handles on the edges of infinity. I tried to unwind the noose of time and spread it out before me so that nails could be placed just so—here, and another here—that I might measure a life along its length and find the place where time began. My young mind would fashion arrows of light and fire them into the darkness one by one, night after night, always to see them wink out just beyond in the void. It was always there. You must know. The precipice marking the abyss seemed always just at my feet, and the void itself, the abyss, forever dark, forever unforgiving, forever cruel, whispering, seemed to trace the arc of my arrows back through my eyes and watch me from inside watching it: neutral. That may have been the worst part. The abyss didn’t care, it merely was. I would tremble in fright and rage and fall within myself, and the void would follow me and I would be consumed.
Now, as a man, I continue to live with the abyss just there, beyond, and a little within myself as well, a residue from those nights so many years ago. And as a man I now seldom fashion arrows of light because I know too well the danger. I dare not show the void a way back into my mind. I am no longer shielded by childhood. I cannot move so swiftly in retreat nor bend without fear of falling.
If you look closely into the eyes of the faces I paint, you may see that they have also faced the abyss. Some have found the magic forms for their questions and may have even given shape to the answers. But all are vigilant. All have heard the whispers. And they all know that the darkness still waits. And doesn’t care.
--LAWRENCE W. LEE 1992
When I was a child, I would look out through my bedroom window, nose close to the old metal screen, smelling the dust of the day overlaid by redolent darkness. I would stare into the night and think about being inside and outside, about being large and small, about when and, mostly, about why. There must be answers there, I would insist to myself, and I felt that I could find them if only I knew how to form the questions. If the questions could transcend my words and, somehow, find their own magical shape, they might themselves shape the answers and I would be able to see and understand. I tried to place cold brass handles on the edges of infinity. I tried to unwind the noose of time and spread it out before me so that nails could be placed just so—here, and another here—that I might measure a life along its length and find the place where time began. My young mind would fashion arrows of light and fire them into the darkness one by one, night after night, always to see them wink out just beyond in the void. It was always there. You must know. The precipice marking the abyss seemed always just at my feet, and the void itself, the abyss, forever dark, forever unforgiving, forever cruel, whispering, seemed to trace the arc of my arrows back through my eyes and watch me from inside watching it: neutral. That may have been the worst part. The abyss didn’t care, it merely was. I would tremble in fright and rage and fall within myself, and the void would follow me and I would be consumed.
Now, as a man, I continue to live with the abyss just there, beyond, and a little within myself as well, a residue from those nights so many years ago. And as a man I now seldom fashion arrows of light because I know too well the danger. I dare not show the void a way back into my mind. I am no longer shielded by childhood. I cannot move so swiftly in retreat nor bend without fear of falling.
If you look closely into the eyes of the faces I paint, you may see that they have also faced the abyss. Some have found the magic forms for their questions and may have even given shape to the answers. But all are vigilant. All have heard the whispers. And they all know that the darkness still waits. And doesn’t care.
--LAWRENCE W. LEE 1992
Statement of Meaning
I
recall reading, many years ago, about a painter who
was asked to explain one of his paintings. He
reportedly replied: “Lady, if I could explain it, I
wouldn’t have had to paint it.”
I feel much the same way, recognizing that there is something inside me that chooses visualization to bring it to life. Otherwise, I’m sure that I would have become a writer. What I can tell you about “The Orchid” and, in large part, the body of my work for the past 30 years, is that I have often incorporated some sort of “cognitive dissonance” in each image, whether it be a flower, butterfly, fish, bubble or other icon. These dissonances are what separate art from craft, in my view. They add a specific and unavoidable psychological component to each image which requires the engagement of the viewer and forces them, for good or ill, to “complete” each painting for me. They are forced to participate in the painting by confronting and attempting to resolve the dissonance in order to give the work meaning.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then meaning is in the mind. This may be why so many of my collectors have chosen to make my work part of their lives... not necessarily because of my name or the colors I favor, or even the general subject of the painting, but because they have become a part of the work. The meaning of “The Orchid” is in my mind and cannot be shared. It is also in yours, and the meaning you have found is just as valid as mine, if not more so. I’m glad that you have resolved the dissonance of the shaman and the orchid, and thereby given it a meaning and life that I could not. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Lawrence W. Lee
I feel much the same way, recognizing that there is something inside me that chooses visualization to bring it to life. Otherwise, I’m sure that I would have become a writer. What I can tell you about “The Orchid” and, in large part, the body of my work for the past 30 years, is that I have often incorporated some sort of “cognitive dissonance” in each image, whether it be a flower, butterfly, fish, bubble or other icon. These dissonances are what separate art from craft, in my view. They add a specific and unavoidable psychological component to each image which requires the engagement of the viewer and forces them, for good or ill, to “complete” each painting for me. They are forced to participate in the painting by confronting and attempting to resolve the dissonance in order to give the work meaning.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then meaning is in the mind. This may be why so many of my collectors have chosen to make my work part of their lives... not necessarily because of my name or the colors I favor, or even the general subject of the painting, but because they have become a part of the work. The meaning of “The Orchid” is in my mind and cannot be shared. It is also in yours, and the meaning you have found is just as valid as mine, if not more so. I’m glad that you have resolved the dissonance of the shaman and the orchid, and thereby given it a meaning and life that I could not. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Lawrence W. Lee
Statement (Revised)
Artist’s
Statement (Revised)
I am a rock. Sandstone: easily abraded and sculpted by water and wind; a sharp blow will shatter me to pieces.
I am an island. We all are.
Few risk a voyage to my shores, but they do like to see my family album: all those denizens of my waking dreams, the best of which now grace the walls of many hundreds of homes and businesses throughout the world.
As is the case for most artists, I take great risks in turning myself inside-out, and I’ve always longed for the tools that would help me give physical realization to the images in my mind with greater clarity and ease. I have used charcoal, pen and ink, gouache, casein, watercolors, oil paint, acrylic paint, alkyd paint, printer’s ink, bronze, aluminum, wood and pencil and plaster and wax and earthen clay and oil clay. I’ve used paper and canvas and hide glue and silk and nylon. I’ve used overhead projectors, opaque projectors, slide projectors, rubbings, tracing paper and homemade carbon paper. I've used my fingers to help me compose, a string compass to help me draw an ellipse just so. I've used calipers and measuring sticks, and perspective frames made of wood and string. I’ve used cameras, from an old Graphlex 4X5 built the year I was born to the latest multi-megapixel digital kind found today. Not long ago, I even tried to use a video projector hooked up to my laptop computer. That one proved very quickly to be an artistic dead end, at least for me. Always experimenting. Never satisfied. Always on the hunt for whatever it takes to make my art better; to make what I see in my mind’s eye into something others could see, too. Technology has always been the greatest limiting factor in this pursuit, and each new tool or technique has had its days of hope, success, and disappointment. There were always limitations and problems both small and large.
But all this has lead me to experiment with the latest technologies available today. The struggle to find a new voice, a new technique, a new tool seems never-ending. In 1985, Harbinger Press published a children’s book (The Mirror) I wrote and illustrated. It is widely considered to be the very first children’s book illustrated on a computer and then output to film and paper. And I’ve experimented with other ways to use a computer in my work: another tool to help me make real that which is in my mind.
Well, it took me over 30 years to mature as an artist, and it has taken almost as long for the computer to mature into a useful tool for me to include in my bag of tricks. Hooray! Pigmented inks! High resolutions! Capable printers and software! The computer games industry has led the way in 3D imaging, and though I’m like an infant in a new world, 3D rendering has become my latest obsession. So far, it hasn’t made things easier. For me, art has always been hard. But the tools I’m now starting to play with are simply astounding. Not only do I expect them to make the process of turning inside-out less painful, they are showing me new adventures ahead; things I never have dreamed of before. I make the art, but the art also makes me. And it will be fun to see what these new tools will illuminate in my mind, and help to give them life. I'm apparently still in the game, and this ride promises to be the most fun of them all.
--Lawrence
I am a rock. Sandstone: easily abraded and sculpted by water and wind; a sharp blow will shatter me to pieces.
I am an island. We all are.
Few risk a voyage to my shores, but they do like to see my family album: all those denizens of my waking dreams, the best of which now grace the walls of many hundreds of homes and businesses throughout the world.
As is the case for most artists, I take great risks in turning myself inside-out, and I’ve always longed for the tools that would help me give physical realization to the images in my mind with greater clarity and ease. I have used charcoal, pen and ink, gouache, casein, watercolors, oil paint, acrylic paint, alkyd paint, printer’s ink, bronze, aluminum, wood and pencil and plaster and wax and earthen clay and oil clay. I’ve used paper and canvas and hide glue and silk and nylon. I’ve used overhead projectors, opaque projectors, slide projectors, rubbings, tracing paper and homemade carbon paper. I've used my fingers to help me compose, a string compass to help me draw an ellipse just so. I've used calipers and measuring sticks, and perspective frames made of wood and string. I’ve used cameras, from an old Graphlex 4X5 built the year I was born to the latest multi-megapixel digital kind found today. Not long ago, I even tried to use a video projector hooked up to my laptop computer. That one proved very quickly to be an artistic dead end, at least for me. Always experimenting. Never satisfied. Always on the hunt for whatever it takes to make my art better; to make what I see in my mind’s eye into something others could see, too. Technology has always been the greatest limiting factor in this pursuit, and each new tool or technique has had its days of hope, success, and disappointment. There were always limitations and problems both small and large.
But all this has lead me to experiment with the latest technologies available today. The struggle to find a new voice, a new technique, a new tool seems never-ending. In 1985, Harbinger Press published a children’s book (The Mirror) I wrote and illustrated. It is widely considered to be the very first children’s book illustrated on a computer and then output to film and paper. And I’ve experimented with other ways to use a computer in my work: another tool to help me make real that which is in my mind.
Well, it took me over 30 years to mature as an artist, and it has taken almost as long for the computer to mature into a useful tool for me to include in my bag of tricks. Hooray! Pigmented inks! High resolutions! Capable printers and software! The computer games industry has led the way in 3D imaging, and though I’m like an infant in a new world, 3D rendering has become my latest obsession. So far, it hasn’t made things easier. For me, art has always been hard. But the tools I’m now starting to play with are simply astounding. Not only do I expect them to make the process of turning inside-out less painful, they are showing me new adventures ahead; things I never have dreamed of before. I make the art, but the art also makes me. And it will be fun to see what these new tools will illuminate in my mind, and help to give them life. I'm apparently still in the game, and this ride promises to be the most fun of them all.
--Lawrence
Statement (Addendum)
Artist’s
Statement (Addendum)
Recent changes in my life plan, due to a 50-year battle with severe depression and a wife (now divorced for tax and State health care reasons, on advice from Elder Law attorneys) afflicted with an apparent age- or disease-related dementia that has been variously characterized as Alzheimer’s, Primary Progressive Aphasia, or “Other”-- have brought me back from a relatively pleasant semi-retirement on a Caribbean island, to again face the grand uncertainties of life as a professional artist.
It seems that most everyone I know is absolutely certain about what I should do, but I remain the responsible party and have to make the hard decisions, and I am not certain at all.
Know only that of which I am currently certain; I have talent far beyond that which my 37-year career-to-date has allowed to flower, if due to nothing more than the exigencies of daily life, and that though I again enter the world of professional art under duress, I am determined to see my talent bloom rather than wither under the weight of what I have done before.
The cooperation and encouragement of forward-leaning galleries of note will play a critical role in my reinvention as an artist.
I hope that our wants and needs mesh sufficiently that we will be able to work together toward common artistic and monetary goals.
You can find out more about me by visiting
www.lawrencewlee.com
and
www.leev2.com
Sincerely,
Lawrence W. Lee
April 1, 2007
Recent changes in my life plan, due to a 50-year battle with severe depression and a wife (now divorced for tax and State health care reasons, on advice from Elder Law attorneys) afflicted with an apparent age- or disease-related dementia that has been variously characterized as Alzheimer’s, Primary Progressive Aphasia, or “Other”-- have brought me back from a relatively pleasant semi-retirement on a Caribbean island, to again face the grand uncertainties of life as a professional artist.
It seems that most everyone I know is absolutely certain about what I should do, but I remain the responsible party and have to make the hard decisions, and I am not certain at all.
Know only that of which I am currently certain; I have talent far beyond that which my 37-year career-to-date has allowed to flower, if due to nothing more than the exigencies of daily life, and that though I again enter the world of professional art under duress, I am determined to see my talent bloom rather than wither under the weight of what I have done before.
The cooperation and encouragement of forward-leaning galleries of note will play a critical role in my reinvention as an artist.
I hope that our wants and needs mesh sufficiently that we will be able to work together toward common artistic and monetary goals.
You can find out more about me by visiting
www.lawrencewlee.com
and
www.leev2.com
Sincerely,
Lawrence W. Lee
April 1, 2007