Mahaloness

Contemporary artist specializing in full spectrum painting, mural, animation and digital hybrid art.


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been away from the desk

Hello, how are you? I find myself here in the East Koots, Canada, in the year 2021. I have been away from my desk, and from most activities I had been absorbed in prior to 2020. My writing and art time replaced by care giving. I am at this very moment a care giver, during a global pandemic, and heightened social uncertainty. Life has been chaotic in a way, similar to the weather, moving, changing, far from normal, whatever normal may be. Being away from my home, I find myself here, somewhat isolated form the busy city life I once knew. When I find free time, I immerse in solitude, and spend time with Nature. It gives me a chance to defrag, shed layers, and reboot self. It is a time of self discovery, and inward reflection. I have been on many journeys in my life, a watershed of experience fed by many tributaries. In essence I have found my way back to the ocean, swished and swirled, upwelled and submerged along the way. The light and the dark coming in waves, with varying intervals and speed. Time has been moving in circles, things change only to return to what they were. Recently my father was admitted to hospital, which led to some abrupt changes to my routine. I will make a simple analogy, I am sailing in the ocean, it is calm and peaceful. I decide to paint. There is no wind and the scene is beautiful. Later I see clouds on the horizon, they seem to be getting closer, and the wind picks up, a storm looms. What do I do? Well I stop painting, and I batten the hatches, get into sailing position and try to get back to shore. This is my life right now. I am back on shore and giving my attention to my care giving duties. In my spare time I work on ideas, and study new crafts. When the storm passes, and peace returns to the land, I will be prepared to resume activities such as picture making, and writing. Thank you for your patience.

And now time for a hälts special feature….

‘Winter’
c.2020
A short film by halts that reveals the magic of the Columbia valley, the East Koots. This film was made possible by my parents who brought me to this valley as a young boy. It has shaped me and it’s blood runs in my veins. No day goes by that I am not in awe, even when the chips are down, it reminds me of the beauty that is here on this earthly plane. Shot in multiple locations and elevations, and over a period of 2 months, it documents the rhythm of the changing seasons. This the land of the eagle, a symbol of power and a source of inspiration. The music I composed started out on my mom’s piano. She often goes to her piano and plays soft melodies that fill the silent air. I sat down one day in her spot and something from an unknown place came through my fingers. As the process went on I expanded on this by adding other instruments and sounds, such as an accordion, that I found tucked away in a closet. With the help of Garageband it evolved into the different sections that you will hear. It is a song of hope and reflects the spirit of Nature, intertwined with every living soul who calls this place home, and to those drawn here by it’s call. This short was made using an iphone for a camera, run and gun. I incurred shin splints in order to get a shot of the valley from near the top of Mount Swansea. This prticualr shot is an homage to the legend Doug Anakin, who graced this valley for many years. I happened to see Doug walk up the same path I took close to his last day on Earth. When I got near to the top I encountered a large ram, and knew I was in the right place. Totally worth it. This is a magical kingdom, and I hope that it remains so for all generations to come. Thank you very much for taking the time to be here and I hope you enjoyed my presentation. Run time 15:16.00

BC still moments


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eyes open

Does art create the landscape, or does the landscape create the art? I woke up to this thought after a dream that was more real than real. Maybe it was the day before and seeing a loved one go into a completely vulnerable and helpless state. Maybe it is the confusion of the world, and the deterioration of humanity looming overhead as a giant mass of grey and gloom. However I remain aware that the behind the grey, the sky is blue, and the sun is shining. Life moves in ripples, waves travelling from far off places, some predictable, while others catching me by surprise. I know that I can’t always get the words right, to describe what’s happening, to make sense of a landscape that vanishes under a thick veil of fog. A kingfisher creates loud short shrieking sounds that wake me up to the moment, no mind, nothing; halfway. The fog lifts and the landscape appears, the same as what I remember, but different from the last moment it was visible. Resembling a loved one, the same person I have known my whole life, yet different from the day before, and the the day before that. Seasons change. People change, same spirit, life goes on. I look far into distance, the more I see the more I don’t see. I imagine all the people who are seeing what I am seeing, feeling what I am feeling. Do they see the same clouds, and the crack of light that breaks the horizon? I say to myself, the sun will shine again, the creation of the landscape of what’s to come. Mother Earth shows me the way, the fog dissipates, the child within smiles bright, the shadows in my head disappear, half way.

Thank for reading, it has been a bit since getting the chance to sit and write. Perhaps this is a new chapter, new ideas, new thoughts, and opening up of the vault kept private and protected. I may not have all the right words, they’ll come, slowly, and patiently. 

And now a minicine (mini cinema, which is longer versions of my minimotions, which are one minute in length) It is titled ‘water bombers’ with soundscape ‘hälts first day on the accordian’. I am happy to say I will be increasing my production value, which includes sound, creating title sequences and so on, this gets my fire going, winter will not bee boring. Ands now, water bombers…

There was a man who was a restless spirit. A Nomad travelling in sync with the landscape’s song.

fotoMahaloness

fog dissipating
soaring
windsurfer

In the garden…

the last rose
at night
the last queen

In the garage make shift art studio.

winter prep
a collaboration between myself and my mom
recently I picked up my painting SLO, back to work I will go….

Outside explarations…

landscape
creating in landscape, but who makes who?


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nirodha

Let’s set the tone with a hälts minimotion, motion picture experiments and quirky soundscapes, this one I did play on the accordion that I found buried in a closet, resurrected and definitely not perfected.

The end is near, it is always near, omnipresent although never quite certain exactly where it is, or when it will be. It cannot be denied, nor can be it be undone. Perhaps I have been on its precipice without knowing, however I have always thought it is not my time. Time is precious. the end has an ally, for time cannot be regained, once past, it is gone. Still though there is a lingering feeling, a feeling of loss, and sentimentality. Like a ghost it is there yet unseen. Can one even see a feeling? I have heard from wise ones that there are certain memories that never go away, but perhaps they get more bearable with time.

nirodha (cessation, ending) of this dukkha can be attained by eliminating all “craving, desire, and attachment” [7][8]    -Wikipedia guru

Now a lot of pictures of flowers taken in my moms garden, hard work is her secret weapon. I do believe a garden painting is highly probable. Currently I am still trying to make sense of the confusion, and where to go from here. I don’t believe in moving forward, it solves nothing, and is nothing more than another form of ignorance. There is only the present moment, the rest is a game, a theatre, a web of confusion. I am curious what would happen if we averaged out all the opinions on Earth, what would the outcome be? And really random, but perhaps still fitting, I wonder if a computer or AI took over, or has it already….would it have a preference for a certain philosophy, religion, movement, or would it find an average of all and create some kind of super power philosophy/religion that no human could debunk, or argue with, and opinions would just slip off its surface. Where do opinions originate from? So may questions so little time left, for the end is nigh, but is it? Even the thought of writing an ending is tough task…an ending to someone is a beginning to someone else. And as the Kurt Vonnegut epitaph goes, ‘So it goes’. (Slaughterhouse-Five)

 


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nature calls 

​First a visual poem. 

and now a poem inspired by Pablo Neruda, as reflected in the first line…

Today I can write the saddest lines. I can write about a heart that was crushed as the ice I walk on along the rivers edge. I can write about the loneliness that filled the void, and of the ghostly calls I hear at night. Inside a vision, a fire rages, thought to be out of control. Isn’t it interesting that a forest can be seen as a majestic thing of beauty and also be fuel to a fire. A call from the wild pulls my attention into the present moment. I appreciate the stillness. Nature heals, cleansing my soul.

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Paintings I have been working on during quarantine, quarantine art, which is still ongoing… My main duty at the moment is to take care of my elders. In being here I  sense that my heart is indeed just fine.

famalia

My family, the people who made me, raised me, and cared for me. Now I return the deeds, full circle, reciprocity.

 

Nature calls… hälts minomotion featuring the call to the wild, I do a lot of research yes, both with technology and the internet/books, etc. as well as going to the natural world for lessons. It is important to get a feel of the subject matter I am working on.


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while in solitude

deathlife

life death

halts

here and there

protection

protection

creator2

shelter. (hälts painting) 

sun

grave with shining light

rainbow

the source of the light

bokeh

crystal bokeh

turkeybutt copy

turkey

turkey_5

turkey on the move

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life and death

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art teacher

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parking cancelled

the painter man….. hälts minimotion featuring a painting made in the pandemic era.

 

 

In the back of my mind, something does not seem right.

 


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speechless

This has been life lately, living in a time of perceived crisis, wondering how we fair through this storm. More posts coming, I am still at a loss for words, except take care of your elders, and stay well.


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BC and Art…

I don’t have a whole lot of words to express. I could on about how I am feeling, or talk about the weather. Or, I might say that winter has been a chore, and most certainly not a bore. I embraced the winter this year, I let old things die, and revived a passion for my painting. I spent time with the elders, made them meals, spent time listening to their stories. It is strange that we write off the elders, and treat them with such little respect. Instead we blame them for this and that, the climate, the state of the environment, and so on. They did the best the could do. There is no reconciliation without first respecting the fact that the new generations will also make mistakes, and that in the future, they will be the ones who bare the weight. I myself, my little self, think as long as the children are laughing and playing, and that the earth provides us with life, that we ought to celebrate this life, and consider how lucky we are to be here. I know I am.

 

If you so happen to love the art you see here I invite you to please visit my new a revived website halts art online store, click here!

 


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2019 paintings

The past year has come and gone, here are some remnants in the form of paintings made in the intensity. Perhaps life comes in sets of waves, with small runners, smooth and clean, and fluctuating outside monsters that seemingly come out of no where. Stress was a factor for me, with many life events leaving their mark, still I am here, and can say I overcame much of it, with lingering nuggets that like everything else will eventually return to the sea. I do plan on working on continuing to write as things come to me. For now this post is a visual time capsule, things that inspired me, commissions, and turning life’s lemons into lemonade. For those of you interested, I do have a website online shop that you can check out via the link. haltsart.com (click here)

Also if there is any questions, comments or interest in any of these works, please do leave a message, I am more than happy to be of service.


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behind

Behind the work, the paintings, there is a human. Life experience and the universal. Humbled, but not humble. I have been tempted to believe that what I do has no value, somehow unimportant, overlooked, underrated, a luxury item, privy to the few. No mind, let those think what they want to think. One says you should do this, meanwhile never stopping to see the painted canvas right under their nose. I am no lesser than those crowned as important, albeit quiet, one hears more in the silence. I have no regrets for taking this path, and would not trade it in for anything this world has to offer. I am fine with dying with all my artwork, a painting sold does not change a thing. These marks I make come from my heart and soul, an inner spirit unwavering to what life brings. Mind wants to say you’ve had enough, tears that fill an ocean, brought back to life as rain. Those who have witnessed the magic how I do love dear. I don’t believe in hope, I don’t believe in hype. I don’t make art for fun except when it is. I don’t believe in what most people tell me, I do as inner spirit says. I don’t expect you to understand this, I don’t want to explain because you want me too. I trust in art and the I am. There is no planning for the future, no ten year plan. There is no what’s before me, nor the illusion of the past. Look beyond the superficial, and see there is grit, there is sorrow and there is pain, there is love, even when it rains. Lovingly transformed into beautiful art, for a garden grows from the waste of what is left behind. I am who I am, a reislient , heart strong, empathetic, no fool to the game, human being to my last breath.

‘SLO’ painting acrylic on canvas 2018, a 2 year painting project, available

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‘Mawyucan’ acrylic and mixed media on canvas, I do actually know the subject in this painting, or at least one time I did, availableIMG_9692

I like to go to remote places to paint, somewhere in Oaxaca Mexico.IMG_9677

and connect with beautiful humansIMG_9676

sometimes solitary, sitting quietly with canvas. IMG_9620

the silent assassin at work. IMG_8945

here one moment, gone the next. IMG_8954

ULLR bar mural Invermere BC 2019 Part 1IMG_9067

ULLR bar mural part 2IMG_9068

underratedIMG_9698

full ULLR bar mural 2019 likely will keep adding elements. IMG_8926

masking a mask IMG_8869

sometimes I set up lightsIMG_3143

Be well a friend said to me

Thank you

You too

My friend.

 

haltsart.com

 

💛 stay golden

special treat part 3 of the ULLR bar mural mini motion series.

 

Never give up.

The I am loves you.


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basement blogger…

Art Announcement…. Solstice Live Art Show! Dec. 21st 🧜‍♂️

Hälts will be doing a live event in Cranbrook BC at Soulfood on Baker St. The live art performance will include painting, video art, soundscapes and a little Q and A for those interested. It is a free event, however I will be selling merchandise, art prints, and originals will be up for purchase. These are rare gems so you perhaps will not want to miss it. check out Soulfood on Insta @kootenaysoulfood and kootenaysoulfood.com and also you can find me at @mahaloness and haltsart.com

Now back to noir regular broadcast….

I bet you thought I vanished. Well I guess the rabbit is out of the hat. Truth is I have been watching what were once mountains return to Earth. In other words, taking care of my elders. I have chosen this path, or perhaps fate and destiny have their hands in it, it’s hard to say. I am here. I am doing this. Meanwhile around me I am witnessing a a terribly beautiful world spinning its wheels, the old cat chasing its tale. I see world events unfolding, political turmoil, media spun anxiety, sports replays and weather forecasters. I watch out the window as ravens glide effortlessly through the air, a sign that the winds be blowing, Nature’s motion. I recollect life events that led me to this very seat, some with heavy heart. This too shall pass, for a cloud never stays in one spot. I look across the room, to the people whom, brought me into this life. I made them parents, they made me their child, together we circumnavigated the ever changing moods. They watched me grow up, and now I watch them grow old. I get up make coffees, empty the dishwasher, pour my dad a glass of water, give him a banana, and make my mom toast. I swoon over the dreams that have not come true, and stare at a spider wondering silently on the wall. I sit with them in a sunlit room, a squirrel runs the railing outside the window, diligently collecting peanuts left as offerings for his amusement. I watch my dad struggle with eating, hands shaking and yet no complaining. He enjoys his meal, this is what’s real, his spirit unwilling to cooperate with his failing body. I remember times we laughed, and I remember the times he made me so mad, or even sad. He had a vision for me, that never quite formed the way he saw fit. Years of battles and clashes, conditions, and prohibitions that led to no where, and yet who I let rule my existence. Broken dreams, failed romance, and a wavering attitude towards fellow humans led me down a dark path. I am human. So my time here has been a blessing and a lesson in compassion. I never knew what my grandparents thought about their lives in their later stages of life. I Wass too young. Now I experience for the first time what that is and although it does sadden me and also has strengthened my empathic muscle, long overdue.

Isn’t it funny how life will show you exactly what you need to see. lake_3crowacrosslake_2eagle_9eagleisland_2gnomelake_freezinglake_patternspeakysunpileatedpecker_flight_3piletaedpecker_1sunsetangel_montane

a little sneak peak of a viking mural project I worked one this past month, I have some catching up, pitter patter lets get atter, no matter.

 

IMG_9058We all have our stories, contorted as they may be, the beauty is the resilience, the inner spirit reveals. So I am here, amongst a world in and out of chaos, everything as it is supposed to be. I sense the mind echo questions and dialogue, I don’t give it my full attention. Instead I sit quietly in the terrible beauty of it all. Their’s climate deniers, clinging to old beliefs, while young people scream protest about Climate Crisis, without agreement to solutions. Complex is the modern world, has it ever been any different? Modern egomaniacs perhaps no different from those in the past, the story spins more stories, the mice with crowns run but do not move forward. Past rejections, life lessons, an uncertain future, yet Love remains. Where is all this coming from, perhaps at the depth of this human there is a heart that wants out the shell formed over time in order to survive. I used to wonder what Dali’s fascination was with shells until just recently did it make sense while cooking in a geothermal hot pool. I look at my mom, a care giver all her life, came from poverty, a very hard life, to living in her dream home. She truly cares for my dad, sharing her insights into what it’s like to see her lifelong partner not be able to take care of himself. All the while working painstakingly on her mountain scene petit point (if you don’t know what that is, its art, math, stitching. and well it’s complex). It’s pixelating with thread material before pixels were a thing. She works day and night, needle point in hand, colourful string, mapped and coded. She says she is going to give up every ten minutes, yet continues to weave her thread through the fabric. I never thought I would be here, watching over my raging parents, seeing their fragility in the last stages of their lifetime span. It has been difficult, yet again the inner spirit sees me through, and art my faithful companion, this I share with you. Be well

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the squirrel

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new project

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late night owl painting

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a terribly beautiful world (hälts hybrid art)

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witness to the unfolding (hälts hybridact)