E. Charles Rolwing III

It’s a lotTo force an obstinate brace Against good morning, the smile  That burns right through you  With the knowledge that  At the first stones throw This street would  Bleed itself dry. To imagine the heft of a stone Thrown high into the clear blue. The sudden numbness of elbow, Confident of its fall. This … More Uptown a.m. (Poem)

     We are digging holes, we are burying dogs. Under this clear sky we may do anything that comes. The Oiler also sharpens blades. There is nothing better than a good blade. We look out on the highway and feel the draw. Workers are pouring new concrete to shore up the levee, it’s hard … More The Oiler (poem)

     It’s all schtick. All the body numbing mental gymnastics are but a prelude. The show hasn’t started yet. The orchestra is warming up, while we create bucket lists. Anything can happen under this clear sky. Aesthetic concerns are principal, jargon of all the dead gods. And we decipher our god-like profiles with an … More It’s All Schtick

     The making of art is a living story told through broken teeth, like the gears of a clock or some terrible machine, sucking holes in the fabric, telling little lies that add up. From Guston’s pink rooms to Armageddon, black as a respite, there is order in no space. Klansmen in little cars. … More Painting (a riff)

     There is a place between the intellectual and emotional aspects in the making of a piece of art. It is here that the search for truth may be exposed and explored. Composition, line, color, and technique are manipulated in a intellectual way with reference to the rules of, or against art history. The … More Statement 

     I moved to Chicago in 1986, fresh out of grad school at Ohio University, armed with MFAs in photography and printmaking. The week I moved here I had a show opening at DeGraaf Gallery in the bustling River North art district, where I showed monoprints I made in Athens. It was a three … More A Short Bio