February 7, 2017

WELL, HERE WE go again…some “visionary” wants to put his/her name on the world stage, engraving his/her name “in stone” for prosperity. We’ve been digging up such graven stones for some years now— even publicizing them in more modern ways such as “histories” written in print, for example — but the “posterity” business seems to constantly elude both givers and receivers of the message. In other words, the invariability of our having to re-live “history” because we ‘forget’ it. Would that our present-day pundits would read a book or two before declaiming their stupidities to the world at large. Such ‘mouthers’ — at times called “wise men”, or “prophets”, or “soothsayers” – even “oracles” — have plagued mankind for, lo, these many centuries, with their silly utterances. Oh, would that they pick up a book and read. Let alone our present “leader” and his proclamation of ‘greatening’ again (Oy! Another prophet! — Is that the sound of knickers twisting that I hear across the land?). Meanwhile we have to listen to another sooth-saying pundit announce to us that such proclamation sounds “Hitlerian”! Really! Read a book for gawd’s (or, better yet, our) sake! If anything, it simply sounds redundantly and embarrassingly human! Centuries before that dim-witted Austrian yelled “Deutschland uber Alles”ˆ, ancient egoists had been chanting similar absurdities thousands of years ago…and their predictions (“proclamations”, “warnings”, “fantasies” “greatness” claims, even “Divinity” at times ((really bad times))…whatever)…were as valid then as they still prove to be—namely, nothing but bulls—t.

Dreams of former “greatness” will undoubtedly not only plague Putin, but scores of new blowhards as well. You don’t think that Iran ever hearkens back to the Persian worldwide empire? Or Italy to its Roman Empire days? Or Greece (now one of the weakest/poorest members of the E.U.) to “back in the day”? How about France and the hey-day of Napoleon? Spain — when its tentacles reached across the Atlantic? Brits and their colonial “Empire”? And how about Native Americans and their attempts to hold sway over our blasphemous ‘immigrant’ pipelines? Let’s not even talk about the “religions” and their claims of coming “on from High.” Oh yeah! Let’s make America “great” again! As one former would-be ‘leader’ once said, “It depends on what the meaning of the word ‘great’ means” — or something like that.

How about we try this time to make our species “great”? That’s never been tried yet. Instead of trying to make our tribe “great”, how about we begin to make mankind great by learning something about our entire history? How about we take a long, hard look at that word “great” – or maybe even the word “human”?



Glimpses #2: Belgium, Germany

October 14, 2016

Originally intended as a small book, “Glimpses: In which a Casual Traveler Ruminates on Passing Scenes—1989-2011″, I should like to share it with my readers in a more informal manner as a series of Blogs.. The introduction and first two “Glimpses” are in the Blog uploaded on October 2, 2016


Belgium: Leuven: Walking off nervousness before I have to deliver a paper at an international conference hosted by KADOC at the Catholic University, I pass through the remnants of a gate in a stone wall on the town’s outskirts. How many walled towns does Europe contain? Was this one raised by the Franks who founded Leuven? Or, as so many seem to be, by the Romans? Why do we still feel we need walls? We’ve only replaced stone with ideologies.

The Dom in Cologne seen from the train

The Dom in Cologne seen from the train

Germany: Paris, to Cologne, Germany: We arrive at the train station at night after leaving Isabelle and Bertrand. Our first view of Cologne: The Dom lit up in bluish lights: an unforgettable, fantastic wedding cake fashioned over the years out of durable stone! And to think that during WWII we nearly bombed it into rubble! (Note: Isabelle and Bertrand Azema, a couple from France that we met in NYS while Bertrand worked at IBM and whom we visited in France).

This is a detail of the Dionysus Mosaic found at the Roman-German Museum in Cologne Germany

This is a detail of the Dionysus Mosaic found at the Roman-German Museum in Cologne Germany

This is a detail of the Dionysus Mosaic found at the Roman-German Museum in Cologne Germany

This is a detail of the Dionysus Mosaic found at the Roman-German Museum in Cologne Germany

Germany: Cologne: I discovered that this city’s name comes from the word ‘colony’ and was the northernmost settlement of the Romans on the Rhine River. A curious note: during WWII when the U.S. bombed this city, most all of it (97%) was razed, though they tried not to destroy its beautiful Dom. After cleaning up after the war, the Germans discovered that the bombs had unearthed long-buried remnants of the Roman presence: an almost wholly preserved mosaic floor, glass artifacts, chariot wheels and parts, etc. All now preserved in a Roman Museum nearby the Dom. What lies beneath Rome? And then?

Glimpses #1: Germany, Italy

October 2, 2016

Originally intended as a small book, “Glimpses: In which a Casual Traveler Ruminates on Passing Scenes—1989-2011”, I should like to share it with my readers in a more informal manner as a series of Blogs.

Ranging across some distance around the globe including Europe, Asia —and closer to “home”—Canada and Barbados, in addition to these ‘hosting’ countries, I’d like to acknowledge the following friends and hosts (as well as countless clerks, guides, porters, fellow travelers—in brief, all those unnamed but not forgotten people in Japan, the Czech Republic, Belgium and Austria whose helpful presence often eased the hassles of travel): Heinrich J., Konstanze and Christian Jarczyk, Jacky Sparkowsky and Jorg Iwan, Gaby and Norman Wittmer (Germany); Piero Augustus Breccia (Italy); Chen Chi and Zu Min, Jason and Crystal ((college students)), Xue Jianhua and Shao Li Ke (China); Ann Mamok, Rick and Jo Canning (England); Isabel and Bertrand Azema (France); Laslo Fesus (Hungary); Barbara and Ronnie Gill (Barbados).

A note to the reader: I have not included dates in separate entries since most of these recollections have been gleaned months — if not years — after their occurrence, not a few popping into my mind during sleepless nights long after I had returned home from my travels.

Included will be some of my paintings & sketches as well as some photographs taken by Cornelia Seckel.

Gardens as seen from the trains in Germany

Gardens as seen from the trains in Germany

Germany: On a train from Cologne to Berlin: small, enclosed garden plots, many with tiny buildings (for the storage of tools?), most with a sitting area containing a bench, followed by open fields and larger farms. Such plots also flashed by my window in China and Japan, each time before and after the environs of large towns or cities. Do city/town dwellers come out here to these tiny, well-tended gardens on evenings and weekends? Does man ever fully divorce himself from the land? Stop putting his hands into the soil? What happens when he does?

Italy: Rome: Waiting at a bus-stop. Having just missed a bus on our way to Piero’s studio (where we were staying), we put down our packages to await the next. How long? We notice a church across the street. Why not? We enter and are astounded to discover that it contains Bernini’s “Ecstasy of St.Theresa”. No signs to give a clue! How many other hidden treasures have I blithely passed by on my way elsewhere? (Note: Pier ((Piero)) Augusto Breccia is an artist I met in NYC and whom I wrote about in ART TIMES).

…and Winter will be cold as — usual.

September 9, 2016

Well, Spring has sprung, Fall has fell…and Winter will be cold as — usual. Fall, or Autumn, or Indian Summer — whatever you choose to call it — is my favorite time of year up here in the Catskills. I can breathe freely, imagine I can see forever in the air’s clarity, and generally find it the Season to “get it together” since Old Man Winter has mostly kept me indoors these latter years — to sit, to read, to mull, to assess, to look back, to sink even lower into my much-loved solitude and get myself prepared for the next phase of this thing called “Life.” My “doings”— especially those related to my editor/artwriter duties for ART TIMES — have been severely curtailed for some time now — so many exhibition receptions I have missed, so many worthy artists still to be profiled, so much…ah, well.

Perhaps I may even get out to try to capture just-one-more autumnal scene of magical color on a small piece of canvas before the cold sets in, the snow covers all, and I plump up the pillows on my easy chair…another pipe dream, I guess, since here I am in my 83rd year and haven’t managed to do a painting that really “gets it” yet. My usual excuse is simply, “I’m a writer — not a painter!” True, but then I haven’t managed to capture the mysteries of Nature — or of those artists who do get it — in words either.

The “human condition”* sometimes leaves a lot to be desired. Anyway, the dénouement can’t be that far off — I’ve already put in for a front-row seat. Hope I’ve earned the privilege of that much-vaunted overview promised by our theologians upon our “phexit” (physical exit)…however, I’ll be happy with that 6th-century Chinese (Han Yu) poet’s observation: “Better a long-dark silence, than a life full of lies.”

* The best description of which I found in Gaius Plinias Secundus’ (more commonly referred to as “Pliny the Elder”) Chapter 7 of Natural History.

(High Woods, NY. September 2016)


August 8, 2016

The past several years have brought on enough ailments (hand surgery, etc.) to hold me back from much of my duties as Editor/Artwriter for ART TIMES but also interfered with a good deal of my “play” time. Often, when I ran into writer/word-blocks, I would gaze out my study window and suddenly be entranced by a mesmerizing view — the sun glinting off a rock, a bush, Indian Summer colors — whatever — which made me grab a canvas, some colors, brushes and stuff and dash outside to “capture” whatever I was (or thought I was) seeing. I live in High Woods, NY which is indeed a place of “high” woods and I am surrounded by Mom Nature in all her untrammeled beauty — and so my forays outdoors usually end up as a “landscape”. Click here for RJS DMB show Brochure.

Since I schmear outside I am therefore sometimes referred to as a plein air landscape painter…. a pretty lofty title for a writer who finds daubing in oils a respite from over-thinking. Consequently, and to make a short story long, my outside excursions have also been curtailed by uncooperative body parts (BTW: if we are supposed to be earth’s animal #1, how come our Creator gave all our body parts different expiration dates? Annoying!).

On the upside of all this complaining, for the past couple of years I’ve had my sister’s eldest daughter periodically “dropping in” to urge me to give a few painting “tips”…. A late starter (as was I) she has been bitten by the “schmear bug” and wants to play in oils. Enter “Unka Ray”. For the past 2 years, she has managed to put a fire under my tush to go outside and paint! So we have been; and do from time to time. We’ve managed (or she managed) to do it enough times to “amass” enough of an “oeuvre” for her to get the idea of a joint showing at a local bank, The Mid-Hudson Valley Federal Credit Union, in Woodstock, NY.

Hence, “Side by Side”, a taste of which is here shared with you. On the really up side is the fact that she has gotten me off my easy chair enough times now, that I find I can even go out alone again to shut off the mind-machine and go out and play. Brava Diane Baker!

Glimpses #3: China, Germany, Hungary

January 8, 2016

Originally intended as a small book, “Glimpses: In which a Casual Traveler Ruminates on Passing Scenes—1989-2011″, I should like to share it with my readers in a more informal manner as a series of Blogs.. The introduction and first two “Glimpses” are in the Blog uploaded on October 2, 2016


View from the Great Wall painting by Raymond J. Steiner

View from the Great Wall painting by Raymond J. Steiner

China: Badaling (outside Beijing): We walk the Great Wall, making the effort to traverse its (restored) length. Each stone put in place by human hands — and I complain of the quivering in my calves as I descend the uneven steps! To what ends might man be pushed? How far can his spirit be broken — and how many must be so broken — to appease the Great Spirit in the Sky?


Germany: Regensburg: Traveling from eastern Germany (Bogen in upper Bavaria) to Vienna and Budapest, I catch fleeting glimpses of the Danube along the way, a river that has long touched my imagination. Finally, from the steps of Valhalla, I get my first real sight of this majestic stream! I’m not sure why this so affected me. Some days later, while in …

View of the Danube from Pest in Hungary

View of the Danube from Buda in Hungary

Hungary: Budapest, I’m shown a certain section of the “Blue” Danube that once ran red with the blood of slaughtered Jews — my romantic notions of that sung-about river now forever tainted. Also visited the Great Synagogue while in Budapest and was told by our Hungarian guide that it had been recently refurbished by the son of the man (a Mister Schwartz) who helped renovate Temple Emanu-El, the Reform Temple, on Park Avenue in NYC. Wanting to reconnect with his roots, the young Schwartz donated large sums of money in an effort to bring the Budapest

The Great Synagogue in Dohány Street (also known as Dohány Street Synagogue) in Budapest, Hungary

The Great Synagogue in Dohány Street (also known as Dohány Street Synagogue) in Budapest, Hungary

Synagogue back to its former glory. A “hero” to the Hungarian Jews, we are shown pictures of Schwartz junior who turns out to be none other than the actor Tony Curtis — Bernie Schwartz being his actual name! — and the rebuilding of the Budapest Synagogue just one of his many charitable undertakings.

This blog will continue each week with a new “glimpse”

Writer, Yes; Painter, ?

July 31, 2015

ALTHOUGH I’VE BEEN almost always able to draw, easily reproducing in simple line what I saw in life and/or the comics since early childhood, I had never taken a formal painting class, depending almost entirely on my pencils and pens to serve me. “Art” was not a subject taught in my Parochial school in Brooklyn, New York, and, not being encouraged by anyone during my upbringing, I simply remained a “sketcher” long into adulthood. While in the US Army, I sort of made a “business” drawing caricatures of my buddies on their T-shirts with a magic marker, picking up three to five bucks a pop that considerably supplemented my $85-a-month paycheck. This, incidentally, led to my drawing a comic-strip for our company “newspaper”, a job for which I received no money but some local — very local — acclaim from my comrades. Along the way, I got in the habit of sketching scenes from nature, almost always carrying a small sketchbook with me wherever I went. It was while serving in the arctic up on the Hudson Bay (we were a handful of American soldiers that were “guests” of the Canadian Air Force stationed at Fort Churchill, Canada, where our mission was to test weaponry under arctic conditions) that I “produced” my comic strip, “The Arctic Trooper”. Also while there, I tried my hand at pastels, drawing a rather large nude on a widow shade I had found somewhere. When I finished, I learned that the “painting” should be sprayed with a fixative, and sent for a can of the stuff from the States. When I sprayed my nude, however, the window shade, though it had “tooth”, absorbed the liquid spray unevenly, leaving a blotchy effect that, for me, ruined the picture. Not so for a Canadian officer who immediately “fell in love” with it. “Wow!” he said, “How’d you get that effect?” Anyway, not being art-business savvy at the time, I gave it to him — and was cured from using color for a long time. It was not until about twenty or so years ago that I “got into” painting with oils, putting myself under the wing of Susan Silverman who introduced me to plein air painting — something I’ve been doing ever since (along with my continued sketching). I never really graduated to the brush, relying almost solely on palette knives, and any serious painter who looks at my “schmears” knows what I mean when I say that I am not a painter. I am, first and foremost, a writer and it is through the “art” of the written word that I express myself to my fellow man. For me, my “picture-making” is sort of a personal journal, a visual reminder of a certain place, a certain time, on a certain day. My paintings are meant to “speak” to me and any overflow into the consciousness of another, purely accidental. Consequently, I am reluctant to claim that I am a “painter”. Again, most professionals know what I mean. In any event, some of my work ­has ­been seen by others, many of them “moved” by my inadvertent “messages” to them. Back in early 2004, Heinrich J. Jarczyk, a painter/etcher friend from Cologne, Germany, once told my partner, Cornelia Seckel, that my “work is good” and ought to be shown, advising her to “make a show for Raymond on his seventieth birthday”. She did — a solo exhibition at The National Arts Club in NYC where, to my astonishment, she sold 16 of my landscapes — an event, incidentally, that I am still trying to mentally absorb. More recently, Rebecca Monroe, writer and subscriber to ART TIMES, wrote to tell me that my landscape paintings “capture where the heart wants to rest.” OK. So I manage to make “nice” pictures now and then, but does that mean I am an “artist”? Twenty years later with more shows and sales along the way — and now being a part of the Saugerties Artists Studio Tours (latest one coming up on 15th-16th of this month ((August)) — my astonishment still lingers; but even more important, after my more than thirty years of writing about professional artists and their work, I continue to find my “title” as a “painter” a bit of a stretch.

Steiner greeting visitors to his studio during the Saugerties Artist TourSteiner greeting visitors to his studio during the Saugerties Artist Tour 2013