mlteague.com

 Portfolio 1983-1993

Overview: Works are on canvas, unless otherwise stated. Biographical details about my life and work are available through my online book, Icarus Transfigured: A Memoir in Late-diagnosed Asperger's Syndrome, located in the link to my home page.

 Mostly Figurative

Pencil Sketch 1 Pencil Sketch 2

orange still-life rosebud

Studies (pencil and acrylic respectively) 1984

 

Gotterdammerung

Gotterdammerung (oil and acrylic self-portrait) 1984

 

Whispers, Isabella?

Whispers, Isabella? (oil an acrylic) 1985

 

Petrouchka

Petrouchka (oil and acrylic) 1984: Obviously, where one lifts anatomy from Victoria Secret catalogs, one is apt to get it right.

Reflections of A Monk: The primary purpose in creating this web site is to showcase my creative works, but as much of it predates the establsiment of this site, history is lost. I have a storage tub that contains saved cartoons and diaries of my earliest formative age, but I cannot bear to look too closely at it, or read my purple, self-absorbed prose. I prefer perfect amnesia of most of this history, for the sake of future creativity.

So at some level I cultivate forgetfulness: that of not paying attention to things that might interest other people. I speak of this lack of context in my musical pages, and I can best describe my situation this way:

When I lived in Memphis, Tennessee as a child and young man, I spent most of my time in my small back bedroom. I only left this room to mow the yard, and (less so as time went along) to visit relatives in other states. My bedroom and yard were my monastery and grounds, upon which I built up a peculiar romanticism that still turns up in my dreams decades later. I did not know my hometown at all, and only came to appreciate its unique charm, culture, and decay upon subsequent visits home, especially after my parents died. Whether visiting The Fontaine House or Elwood Cemetery, I often wish I could move back there, to reconnect to that energizing spirit that worked in the background of my youth.

At best I can only glimpse Memphis obliquely in my works, though more powerfully in my memory as I age, where perceptual non-specific things like sunny afternoons in June come to mind, or me cutting white pine for my canvas stretchers on the patio in Autumn, or touring the backyard at sunset and smelling my mother’s cooking wafting out the back screen door. These perceptions are what motivate and comfort me; and there are even a few memories of this kind from my time in Bloomington, Indiana. Otherwise, these web pages are the chronicle of a workaholic, though a happy laborer, nonetheless.

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