Lately, I’ve been thinking about how important it is to stay curious, especially in the middle of ongoing projects and long stretches of studio time. For me, curiosity doesn’t come from chasing new ideas as much as it comes from paying closer attention to what’s already around me. Whether that’s through looking at other artists’ work, spending time outside, or simply slowing down long enough to notice patterns and details, these moments of looking often shape the work in ways I don’t fully recognize until later.
Knoxville Architectural Series at The District Gallery
I’ve recently started showing a new series of paintings focused on Knoxville architecture at The District Gallery. These works are less about perfect documentation and more about memory, presence, and how buildings hold stories long after their original purpose has shifted. Using my ink transfer on beeswax process, I layer fragments of imagery, on some I create subtle underdrawings, and surface marks to create compositions that feel pieced together rather than polished. I’m drawn to structures that have weathered change, landmarks that feel quietly iconic, and buildings that continue to serve as anchors for small businesses and everyday life. In a city that’s constantly growing and reshaping itself, this series is my way of slowing down and paying attention to what remains.
Keeping Curiosity Active
I recently made a visit to the Knoxville Museum of Art, something I try to do regularly when time allows. Gallery visits like this aren’t about comparison or pressure for me, they’re about keeping my curiosity awake. Walking through exhibitions, noticing how other artists solve problems, use space, or leave things unresolved helps reset my thinking when I return to the studio. It reminds me that making art is a long conversation, not a closed system, and that staying curious is just as important as staying productive.
That same kind of looking carries over outside the gallery. Recent hikes in the Smoky Mountains with Tracy have offered a different pace and a different kind of attention. Long stretches of trail, layered ridgelines, and the quiet accumulation of small details all reinforce the idea that meaning reveals itself over time. Whether I’m walking through a museum or a forest, I’m often reminded that the work doesn’t come from forcing ideas, but from staying open long enough for them to surface.
Now I’m back in the studio, working toward the next big thing. I’m not quite ready to share the details yet, but I’m looking forward to letting it unfold and sharing more along the way. I also have a few commissions in the works, fitting in between other projects and taking the time they need to be done right. There’s always more to do, but I’ve come to like it that way. I’ve learned that when I make space for small adventures and time away, the studio time that follows feels more manageable, focused, and productive.
See you soon,
Randy