Drawing. 8x12. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2021. Status: Print Available.
Drawing. 8x12. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2021. Status: Print Available.
Drawing. 8x12. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2021. Status: Print Available.
Drawing. 8x12. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2021. Status: Print Available.
Drawing. 8x12. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2021. Status: Print Available.
Drawing. 8x12. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Print Available.
Drawing. 8x12. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Print Available.
Drawing. 30x60. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 1990. Status: Artist’s Collection, Print Available.
Drawing. 30x60. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 1990. Status: Artist’s Collection, Print Available.
Drawing. 28x38. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 1990. Status: Artist’s Collection, Print Available.
Drawing. 28x38. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 1990. Status: Artist’s Collection, Print Available.
Drawing. 30x60. From the Introspection Series. Steve Bendykowski. 1989. Status: Destroyed. Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Spirit of the Age Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Spirit of the Age Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Spirit of the Age Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Spirit of the Age Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2019. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Spirit of the Age Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2019. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Spirit of the Age Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2019. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 16x20. From the Spirit of the Age Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2018. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 18x24. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2020. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x30. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2019. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2019. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2018. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2018. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2018. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x30. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2018. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x30. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2017. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2017. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 16x20. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2017. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2017. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 16x20. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2016. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2016. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2013. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2012. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 24x36. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2012. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Wood Panel. 16x20. From the Decline of an Empire Series. Steve Bendykowski. 2012. Status: Original and Print Available.
Oil on Canvas. 16x20. 2007. I sat on my front porch as the sun was setting and looked out across the seemingly endless rows of green corn. I was compelled to get up and wander through the rows as darkness fell and soon became disoriented. The sound of the corn as it brushed against me and the smell of the earth and humidity warned me that I did not belong here. From the corner of my eye I could have sworn I saw the corn growing taller. Did I see it or was it just that I knew corn grew at night. The warmth of the day gave way to a damp chill. It was time to leave.
Oil on Panel. 18x24. 1996. The summer has slipped slowly into fall. It happened so slowly and the changes were so subtle that it was barely noticed. But the signs were there. Something in the air, something in the light. Now the dry stalks rustle in the wind. Once resliliant, they are brittle. Soon they will be no more. In the distance is the blue sky and a majestic cloud. There will be more for those who believe.
Omaha World-Herald July 3, 1988
July 3, 1988. Omaha World-Herald article on my show. The art critic for the paper always gave me great coverage.
Artist Information Sheet. July 1988. I created this document and printed it to be displayed at my show at the 13th Street Gallery.
Artist with Painting, July 1988
July 1, 1988. Posing by one of my paintings at the 13th Street Gallery on opening night. Taken by fellow artist Susan Knight.
13th Street Gallery Show, July 1988
July 1988. My one-man show at the 13th Street Gallery. This was my first one-man show at the gallery and was well attended. It also got favorable reviews in the local papers.
13th Street Gallery Show, July 1988
July 1988. My one-man show at the 13th Street Gallery. This was my first one-man show at the gallery and was well attended. It also got favorable reviews in the local papers.
13th Street Gallery Show, July 1988
July 1988. My one-man show at the 13th Street Gallery. This was my first one-man show at the gallery and was well attended. It also got favorable reviews in the local papers.
13th Street Gallery Invitation
July 1988. Back of the invitation to my one-man show at the 13th Street Gallery in Omaha. I designed the invitation.
13th Street Gallery Invitation
July 1988. Front of the invitation to my one-man show at the 13th Street Gallery in Omaha. I designed the invitation.
Oil on Canvas. 36x42. 1988. I did not grow up on a farm and had little knowledge of crops or farming. When I found myself living in the country with fields all around me, I enjoyed examining all the details. As I was hiking through the harvested field it seemed to me that the roots that held up the corn were legs and I was swept away in my thoughts, that place I was so used to visiting. The harvest was complete and the point of no return was long past.
Oil on Canvas. 36x42. 1988. After the harvest the torn and twisted remains of the corn are littered everywhere. I walked though the field in the soft dirt. It had been an extremely dry year and I was concerned that the spring clean-up and resulting burn would be too dangerous. I began to wonder what happens to the few that remain. Are they carried off? Do they decay and return to the dirt they came from. Or does the great burn off consume them all?
Oil in Linen. 42x96. 1988. One dark night I walked through the rows of green corn, carrying a flashlight to light my path. As I turned the spotlight on an area I noticed that a stalk of corn had fallen and the stalks behind it had also fallen. They walk in darkness following in a line and when one falls, because of the darkness they also fall. If the light had not shone here many would never known it was happening.
Oil on Linen. 36x42. 1988. The serenity of the morning was broken by the sound of heavy machinery accompanied by a crashing sound that I had never heard before, and it was coming from the field next to our house. I saw a machine shaking and tearing the corn, uprooting it from the ground. The noise was intense and large clouds of dust were thrown into the air as it slowly moved down the rows. Nothing was going to stop it from its mission.
Pastel on Paper. 10x20. 1988. I had never questioned why the fields around me existed and what they were used for. I never knew why weeds grew everywhere but not in the fields. Living in the middle of it all does not mean you see or understand. My wife began to teach me, show me. I could not continue. This was my last pastel in this series.
Pastel on Paper. 10x20. 1988. In the darkest part of the night the lantern illuminated my path as I walked down the rows of green corn. Flying insects emerged from nowhere, dancing around the light. The corn seemed to breathe and rustle at the slightest gust of wind. The corn stalks were lined up as they were planted, but I came upon one that had been bent and was falling. Other stalks seem to follow for no good reason. No good reason.
Pastel on Paper. 10x20. 1987. While looking through a glossy agricultural brochure I saw this photo and stopped. What a huge machine to turn up the earth. Why is it that the larger the machine the more easily it is used on that which is unable to defend itself? We struggle to save and afford a better life while the machine skims the best for itself. And it has been this way for thousands of years.
Pastel on Paper. 10x20. 1987. For over 30 years I had seen corn like this and never questioned what it was used for. I knew it could not be eaten by humans. Who bought it and for for what purpose? Why did they buy it and did it mean the same thing to them? Would it be given away or thrown out when the decor changed and it no longer fit in? For all the work I put into it seems to give little in return.
10x17. Pastel on Paper. 1987. There is a disease out there and often the damage is done in the darkness, where the process can't be seen. I walked into the darkness with a light that was given to me and could see it clearly. There was nothing I could do as the damage had already been done. But I think if more had the light they would see it too and it could be stopped.
Pastel on Paper. 8x10. 1987. I don’t blame those who make a living off the land for raising crops that have little nutritional value. Growing and creating things is a risky business. So what if there is little or no meaning? As long as the colors and subject matter is right it will sell. And it did.
Oil on Linen. 20x28. 1987. More details, details, tighter and tighter - to what end? What was the purpose and meaning? There was none. It was an empty formula. Yes, it would sell, but I could not bear to bring myself to do it. This painting was never exhibited or seen by anyone else. I destroyed it.
Pastel on Paper. 8x10. 1987. The soil must be prepared if it is to produce the desired crop, and heavy machinery makes quick work of what used to take much longer. Even soil with clay is no match for the blades that rip methodically and relentlessly. The natural growth is once again plowed under.
Oil on Linen. 42x56. 1987. As I looked at the reflection in the back window of my pickup I gazed on another beautiful sunset. The colors and majesty of the tall standing corn satisfied my soul in a way that the corporate world I left could never do. For me, there would be no need to incorporate twice.
Pastel on Paper. 8x10. 1987. While exploring the countryside I came across a crop I had rarely saw near my home. I was told it was milo, but never knew why it was grown and what food value it contained. I thought that it somehow looked foreign to the landscape. I saw it as oriental and rendered it that way.
Pastel on Paper. 8x10. 1987. I woke up and found that an early winter snowstorm had swept in during the night. The sky was gray and overcast and I remembered. I was not able to meet my obligations; I wanted to and would have but those that owed me could not pay. The boom was over and now many would face ruin. The harvest was past due and I too had been caught in the storm.
Pastel on Paper. 8x10. 1987. I woke up and found that an early winter snowstorm had swept in during the night. The crowded and dense corn was dead, and an early snowstorm had prevented the harvest. The sky was gray and overcast and it seemed to me that it was a picture of my life the last few years. I do not regret that it happened for there was much good that came from my experiences.
Oil on Linen. 42x56. 1987. As I walked down the path on one side of me are the trees and the other, the cornfield. Both are dense and both are beautiful beyond description. Fall has prepared both of them for what comes next. But I am not thinking about what comes next, only the sounds, the smell, and the beauty of the present.
Pastel on Paper. 8x10. 1987. I sensed there was a change in the weather. The light was different and the wind had changed directions. The few birds that remained had quit singing. For the last few years we have had a reprieve, but so much has been lost already that I fear that nothing can stop the march down.
8x10. Pastel on Paper. 1987. There is great beauty in a partially harvested cornfield, especially during the twilight hours. The oppressive heat of the summer is over and the nights bring cool relief. After the frost most of the bothersome insects are gone. I drove my pickup out into the field to take it all in.
Pastel on Paper. 8x10. 1987. The corn is packed so close together, and it seems like it gets closer every year. It does not naturally grow that way and only does so as biologists meddle. I have never liked the city or the attitudes and politics it breeds. I want to make it clear that this painting is not about human population growth.
42x56. Oil on Linen. 1986. There are so many and they are all in a row. They have had there time of growth but that is now over. They still stand, but only because of what once was. They have become dry and now crumble, and are unaware of the fate that so soon awaits them.
Oil on Linen. 36x42. 1986. I worked very hard at it, but my heart was never truly into the effort. Business was something that could never satisfy me. Plans were made and set in motion. I was resolved to follow it through. This time it would be different. This time I would follow my heart.
Oil on Linen. 48x60. 1985. Some see a cornfield under a blue autumn sky, ready for harvest. Some see that and something more, just as I do.
