roomy

This post is about my wonderful studio, which I've had for almost two years.

 A couple of weeks ago I had a photo shoot with Eric Swanson, a photographer here who has a blog of artists in their studios. He's been taking photos like this since he was nineteen and he is good at it. I posted this photo of my studio on my Facebook page and people think I work in a space the size of an airplane hangar. Actually it's about 600 square feet, which is roomy but not overwhelmingly large, as it looks in the photo. All photos are copyright Eric Swanson.

Here's a photo of my keepsake wall. Some of these cards and photos I've had for a long time- a yellowed newspaper photo of a charred venetian blind from the World Trade Center, for instance, and a postcard a friend made from her own photo of the towers. I added a few cards recently.

Doilies from Chinatown in San Francisco, a white ink drawing on vellum from topographical map, a piece of intentionally crumpled paper.

Here I am about to squeegee. This was just for show, though.  Last year I started experimenting with using squeegee and mica filled acrylic paint over photographs that were transferred to Japanese paper, then folded and cut. I often use the processes of printmaking in my work- this is from silkscreening, and causes a smear of paint that is hard to control, which I like. I'll do a few and pick the one I like best. The paper doesn't always like it- some fibers come along with the paint. But I like that too. There's a subtle sheen to the paper and a not so subtle metallic look to the paint.

isolation

I've lived in Santa Fe for over four years now and yet this morning, browsing Facebook, I saw a post that reminded me that in many ways I'm still an outsider here.

My past lives were spent in cities, where people naturally expect newcomers and accept that they bring something new to the conversation. Santa Fe is different- small town values in a way, and also people come and go here, so sometimes there is hesitation to connect with new people, because they may not stay. I've posted about this before, that one person told me to never tell anyone I've been here for less than two years or they won't bother getting to know me.

As artists, we spend many many hours alone. Probably most of our days, if we're serious. That's something I'm fully comfortable with. But then there are the moments that I feel separate and not in a good way. I have ways to overcome sadness- taking a walk along the river, feeling surrounded by beauty in the sky and the mountains, or just taking stock of what I'm grateful for is usually enough to lift my mood. But I'm lucky to not be battling depression all the time.

We've all been reminded of the danger of depression and addiction this week with the suicide of Robin Williams. Once again, as when Philip Seymour Hoffman died, everyone weighs in with their opinion, their emotional responses. Social media make it possible for us to all be pundits. We're first shocked- then we say, you know, you could see that in his performances. He seemed to be clinging to a lifeboat all the time. One thing it teaches us all- no matter how someone seems to have it all, we have no idea what their demons are. Be kind, because you just don't know when someone is suffering.

For me, the most poignant and well-written piece is this one by Russell Brand in the Guardian. Here is a quote:

What platitudes then can we fling along with the listless, insufficient wreaths at the stillness that was once so animated and wired, the silence where the laughter was? That fame and accolades are no defence against mental illness and addiction? That we live in a world that has become so negligent of human values that our brightest lights are extinguishing themselves? That we must be more vigilant, more aware, more grateful, more mindful? That we can’t tarnish this tiny slice of awareness that we share on this sphere amidst the infinite blackness with conflict and hate?

That we must reach inward and outward to the light that is inside all of us? That all around us people are suffering behind masks less interesting than the one Robin Williams wore? Do you have time to tune in to Fox News, to cement your angry views to calcify the certain misery?

Indeed.

money (that's what I want)

You're probably not old enough to remember this song, but it was recorded by a bunch of people, including the Beatles. It came to mind the other day because there's been a lot of talk about how art has become commodified and some young artists are chasing after sales at the expense of developing their work. Art is big business now, and big collectors are chasing after the next big thing.

Of course this isn't a new phenomenon. Jean-Michel Basquiat was the poster boy (pun somewhat intended) for a young brilliant artist who cranked out work and flamed out early, dying before the age of 30, and his works command enormous prices now, into the millions. There's a young artist named Oscar Murillo who is being called the next Basquiat, as collectors line up to buy his work.

Anyway, the point of this post is to consider how this climate of money and sales is impacting the way artists approach their art practice. I'm not in the thick of it- I know what I do, and sales are great, and allow me to have a nice studio and pay for my supplies, but I don't make work for the reason of selling it. If I did, I'd be back doing illustrations for Lord & Taylor. It's stultifying to have to think of whether work is acceptable to the market. You have to have the freedom to develop as an artist, go down unknown avenues, fail miserably and throw things away (or not, saving them for a more objective look much later,) follow your curiosity and interests. I feel this way: art is a job and serious attention must be paid, time must be spent. It's frustrating and joyful and I'm fortunate to be able to do it. 

The other day a friend of mine, Edward Winklemann, wrote a post on his most excellent blog about how he, as a gallerist and lover of art, was dismayed at the way some artists pursue artmaking solely to make money and become famous, with a sense of entitlement and an attitude of insincerity and even dishonesty. Since I teach (actually make that past tense, as I'm letting go of my adjunct position for now) I notice that students do have a very skewed idea of what it takes to have an art career. If they were at schools in New York fame and fortune would be even more tantalizing. 

Here's a quote from Edward's post:

Increasingly I'm reading online this or that artist's opinion that cheating the system or scheming within the system to get ahead, through the creation/promotion/sale of their art is not only OK with them, but their due, because of how difficult they feel their life has been.

Edward feels, as I do, that art has a value in itself that is outside the market system, and perhaps it's with a bit of wishful thinking, feels that artists themselves should at least adhere to an ethical code that befits an individual who is creating beauty and/or thought-provoking works, as opposed to a Wall Street person, for example. (Insert dose of cynicism here about Wall Street types, that is probably unwarranted.)

Artists should emerge from their thorough explorations in looking/seeing and in particular their education in the humanities as, well, better humans. In my experience, most do. But specifically, within my concept of the role of art as a form of religion, artists are the leaders...the perceptive ones able to see and communicate sincerely with the rest of us the more important or at least interesting aspects of what it means to be a human here and now. That position comes with certain responsibilities, though. If they're not at least attempting to be good humans (and that is incompatible with willingly scheming or cheating others), then they're just hucksters demanding attention for wholly narcissistic reasons. 

There's a lot more to his post and I don't want to misrepresent what his thoughts are. He's looking to art for spiritual sustenance. It made me think about one particular thing I always told my students: don't put anything out there in the world unless it's the very best you can do. The world has enough garbage as it is. Should we as artists be held to a higher standard? It seems to me some humility and gratitude is appropriate.

newsprint

All the News That's Fit to Print, at the Center for Contemporary Art in Santa Fe, was a big success- lots of people visited and enjoyed it. It was great fun to put it together with Erin Elder of CCA. I've published images from some of the works already, so this is a summary of the show.

On the last day, we had a panel discussion with three of the exhibiting artists, whose works are below:

Adam Simon

Elissa Levy

Pat Boas

It was so interesting to hear the other artists talk about why they are attracted to working with the New York Times. Pat Boas talked about living abroad and how other countries have a national newspaper- the Times seemed to be the closest thing we have to a national newspaper. She uses content from the Times- in this work, she traced all the heads from the photos on the front page on tissue paper and each sheet would be used for a whole month, so the outlines overlap and fill the page. There are twelve drawings, one for each month. 

Elissa Levy also talked about being at a residency in Scotland and seeing how the newspapers there were full of sports. She and I are sometimes attracted to using the same front page photograph. She alters the page by painting and cutting, creating a three dimensional work that's colorful and thought-provoking.

Adam Simon's work was from a number of years ago, and stemmed from his desire to take himself out of the work by using the pre-existing design from the front page, painting out the photographs with white red or black paint, depending on his own system of hierarchy, affixing the pages to canvas and sealing them with resin. He said something at the panel that I loved- that we as artists are lucky that we can take a memorable moment from time and freeze it forever in an art piece. I think of my own work that way, because each of my cut New York Times pieces commemorates a historical event. I choose the page that jumps out at me from the paper in the morning when I open it.

I created a work specifically for the exhibition, titled Quotidian. I made vector files of the page layouts from the Times for a week, seven layouts in all. I had four of each of these laser cut into handmade gampi paper, which was folded and hung on a tall metal ladder, 16 feet to reach the ceiling joists of the gallery. The rungs of the ladder got further apart as it went up, so the paper sheets that were layered fairly thickly at the bottom were thinner at the top and seemed to float up into the space above. The image below shows the piece on site and a detail.

Other artists in the show were Guy Richards Smit, whose large watercolor facsimile of the paper full of his own funny made up news stories, was open on a large table so viewers could read it; Lauren Di Cioccio, who seals the paper in a muslin sleeve then embroiders through it to enhance the front page photograph; Francesca Pastine, who contributed a sculptural mask constructed from the financial pages and covered with copper leaf, plus moody photographs of other similar works. Shanti Grumbine recorded a sound piece that used redacted text from the paper as a kind of musical score- accompanied by a folio of prints of the score plus another print using the newspaper's design and text but overlaying her own pattern on the photographs; AJ Bocchino sent a large digital work on canvas that used headlines concerning the US relationship with Saudi Arabia dating back to the 1940's; and Fred Tomaselli painted his own phantasmagorial image on the front page photograph. 

Previewing this, I see that the text is all wonky, and I am trying to figure out how to fix it! For now, it'll have to stay put.  Why, blogger? Trust me folks, I've tried to edit so all the text is the same size, and on my page it is, but as you see it, it isn't. Mercury is in retrograde, so I've been told.

fighting the doldrums

February. Isn't it the worst month? That's why Valentine's Day is during February. What else can you do but wait for spring? Of course Valentine's Day can be pretty awful- if you're in a relationship there's a lot of pressure. If you're not, you feel left out. But a day dedicated to love seems important and breaks up the month a bit.

Here in Santa Fe, we are in a terrible drought. We haven't had much snow, maybe an inch or two, since before Christmas. And the spring winds are starting- which kicks up the pollen, which started being released early this year, because of the warmth and dryness. The longer I live here the more I am susceptible to allergies- juniper in particular, and that's what's flying around now. You know how you look out at the New Mexico landscape and you see these green bushes all over the place?

The culprit

Anyway. I will be posting good photos of our "All the News" exhibit soon, but meanwhile here is a link to a wonderful article, one of three that were published around the time of the opening.

end of year madness

Today is Christmas Day, a day for family and friends. I'm off to a movie along with scads of other people, but first a round up of news. The Art Miami Context fair was very successful for my gallery. They sold two of my New York Times pieces and lots of other artists' work. I was in Miami for the fairs and got to see old friends, a bunch of art, and enjoy my home town.

And that means: STONE CRABS. Anyone who has been to Miami Beach knows Joe's. It's been renovated and is a lot bigger than the old days. Back then you waited two hours stuffed into a narrow bar. Now you wait maybe an hour in a couple of anterooms and a bar. But if you go all the time, you get in right away. You have to know the trick.

Joe's has a little takeaway cafe now. I recommend you try it for lunch when things aren't as insane. Stone crabs are supposedly eco-friendly, because the crab grows another claw. I'm not positive this is the case and anyway it must hurt the crab to have his arm torn off, but please: they are divine and I don't want to think about it.

Since returning from Miami I've hit the ground running. Along with Erin Elder I'm co-curating an exhibition called "All the News That's Fit to Print," art that uses the New York Times, at the Center for Contemporary Art here. The artists use the newspaper in varied ways. Some use the paper itself for sculptural and wall based works, like I do. One artist whose work I recently discovered is Elissa Levy, from Brooklyn. Here is one of her works that will be in the show, "Expected to Rise."

Other artists highlight and collect bits of content from the paper- here is a work by Pat Boas, of Portland, Oregon, in which she has traced heads from photos on the front page, each drawing consisting of tracings from a full month, with a total of 12 drawings in the series, representing one year:

Everyone bemoans the sad fate of daily newspapers. With Jeff Bezos buying the Washington Post, it should be interesting to see what new ideas he comes up with. I know the Times has invested in more multi-media reporting, trying to keep up the subscriber base. Personally, I still read the print version of the Times every day and have been for maybe forty years, but I like to read it online occasionally when one of those multi-media stories runs. There was recently a series on a homeless child in New York that was heartbreaking- what is now referred to as "long form" journalism at its best in my opinion. To be continued. Meanwhile, the front page with its compelling above the fold photograph continues my morning ritual.

the desert

Growing up in Miami Beach, then living in New York and Connecticut for so many years, I was used to humidity and green-ness. The desert has neither, but this is the monsoon season, meaning that we get rain fairly often, sometimes a bit every day, sometimes a heavy rainstorm that sends water rushing into the arroyos with great force. I live near the Santa Fe River bed, which used to actually be a river, but is an arroyo now. Arroyos are dry stream beds that fill with water occasionally, during heavy rains. They can be dangerous actually, because if anyone is in there and the water starts to flow, it can cause drownings. We get flash flood warnings here when that's about to happen, but maybe the kids playing didn't get the alert.

Anyway, during monsoon season, the desert starts to grow grasses and things and it actually looks green around here. Also, flowers bloom. It's interesting that the landscape here is at its most beautiful in September. I've posted about the aspen trees in the past. Today I'm posting a photo of a plant I'm kind of obsessed with, jimsonweed. The bush we walk by is pretty large and the flowers are large-ish too so I can see from afar when it's in bloom. For a while it was so dry, no flowers to be seen, but lately every morning it's got lots of them. They bloom at night so by noon they're closed. They don't last long at all. I'm pretty convinced that they only bloom once, but a friend says that's not so. This plant is very poisonous, which makes it more exotic seeming and a little sinister.

Georgia O'Keeffe painted them often. Here's just one example. 

The plants in the desert are very sculptural and seem almost prehistoric. I try to capture them when they are in bloom but it seems like I never have my phone with me at the right time and the next time I walk by them the flowers are gone. The plant life can be very ephemeral. One day a cactus will look all brown and gnarly, and the next day a beautiful pink flower will have appeared.