between here and there


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At The Frieze Art Show

Since I have been painting over the past few years, I have not thought much about how the work fits within the larger world of Art. Certainly I have thought about the work of artists who inspire me. But I have kept my distance from the art world because I believe too much consideration of how a beginner’s work belongs to a larger context can result in paralysis and worries. I am certain that this could always be the case, no matter how we understand our context, but with the weight of our work behind us it can serve as ballast when we move into the waters we begin to navigate.

I began an initial navigation a few weeks ago when I visited the Frieze Art Show taking place in New York City. Over the past several years I had become aware that Art galleries have been taking their shows on the road. It seems a bit carnival-like to me. And perhaps this is as it always has been, with the sellers of art trying to get their artist’s work in front of more people, more students, more buyers. In a global society it probably does not make sense to sit still and hope that the outside world is going to find you sitting still in a world that is constantly moving.

At the Frieze show we are all moving at the same time. The art, the galleries, the artists, the VIPs, and the VIPs behind closed doors, the lectures, the viewers, the journalists, the cooks, and toilets, and tables, and chairs, the books and catalogs and give-a-way bags….and the hundreds of bays of venues that create the spectacle that is the Frieze Show. There is something spare, spooky, about the experience, the environment devoid of any reverence for art. The feeling is fully commercial and exposing.

I do not know the art world. For this reason, I assume, I do not recognize the majority of the art in this place. I know the work in museums. I go to the show to learn, even not knowing what I will learn. But knowing that simply going will bring the lessons I need to learn. I am still considering what I learned…and I imagine I will be doing so for some time to come. I can say that I saw no art that looked like mine. I assume this is not a good thing. Does that worry me? Not really. I make what I make. I make what I make in relation to my voice in the world. Does that mean that my work is not worthy of the avant-garde collection presented at the Frieze? Maybe. But I don’t know, because I don’t know the art world. I guess I am beginning to get to know it.

I thought a lot about how the art was selected. About how all of these galleries from all of over the world decided to spend thousands and millions of dollars to rent space and ship art and people across the planet to arrive and present the work in a period of three days. The commitment to capital communicates a commitment to the work, to the artists they selected to show. I should, and do appreciate this commitment. I wonder about the vision. I question the motivation of the work. I sometimes feel like I am an outsider in the audience witnessing an enactment of the “King with no Clothes.” This is not to say I thought the work was not good, but that perhaps the value of it requires extra explanation to appreciate, additional context to value, or a framework of a particular criticality that I do not have. Maybe I will grow into this criticality. But I doubt it. I have never appreciated conceptual art. I will never love the work of art that is, for instance, a sheet of plywood with a few onions sitting on it, presented as a modern still life. Ode to Cezanne? Perhaps. But I would prefer to experience Cezanne’s paintings first-hand, or simply eat the onions in a very good meal.

I walked through the exhibit, bay after bay, looking at the work, thinking to myself, this work represents how each artist has taken a stand in the world. This work is how they put their stake in the “metaphorical” ground of thinking, living, and potential cultural transformation. With all their will they lay claim to the making of art and expression of self, world, context….in order to communicate to another through this work. This is the best medium they could come up with, the manner of making, the required complexity or simplicity of their idea and it’s expression. This work on the wall, or the floor, hanging in the air, or living in a black box, is their commitment to the world, their involvement, their soul exposed, crafted in its necessity. For them, there is no other way, than what is in that booth. And as Gerhardt Richter has said, when they stood back to look at their work, they knew if was finished because it was “good.”

I walked through the Frieze show with these thoughts in my head. I looked at the work, I watched the people. Decidedly belonging to the community of the Art World. I look at the work with these thoughts, in this state of mind, because this is how I look at my work, this is how I move through the world. How can art be any other way?And then I consider that maybe they think about the making of art in another way, a way that is different from how I think about the making and necessity of art. That their making is not about the necessity of expression, the necessity of making a way to belong and transform, a criticality to the means of expression, the value of being in the world. Maybe they don’t even care about arriving at the “good.” I think I have a lot to learn about the Art World that exists inside the places such as the Frieze show. I need to decide if I want to learn this new World.

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Living Place

image

I am on the plane returning from a visit to New York City. The last six minutes in the city before getting in the car headed back to the airport were a panic. Panic is not a place I like to visit. But my smart alarm was smarter than me this morning, and while I set it for 4:30 am, it was inadvertently set for Thursday and Friday. Not Tuesday. Not today. My boyfriend commented to me before my trip that smart phones are smarter than we need them to be. This experience was one instance where the phone was smarter than I needed it to be, with at least one more feature than I needed, or use. But somehow the phone was set, smartly, and I almost missed my plane. Luckily, the sun is up at 5:26am and it was the sun and birds that woke me. Even in New York the power and pull of the living world brings me around to action.

Traveling brings out the question from most people: what are you here for? They are thinking, business or pleasure…and I respond that traveling is always both for me. I believe business, that thing we do to pay the bills should be enjoyable, but mostly it is both because the different experiences of the world challenge and transform how I understand the world and understand myself. And it is these understandings that combine to create my work. Both teaching and art. I move around, and the world comes apart and reassembles like one of those prismatic kaleidoscopes. New lessons are learned and old ones are reconfirmed. The world looks the same and it has also changed. A place like New York City is the same, but dramatically different. I first visited New York in 1976. a milestone celebration for the country and the city was all dressed up in red, white, and blue. For a child, I was impressed with certain child-like experiences: the Empire State Building, the Twin Towers, Circle Line Ferry….in 1986 I moved to New York and began what is now a life-long relationship with a place, even after leaving it to move West in 1992. Visits became less frequent over the years, and I eventually recognized that I could no longer lay claim to feeling more like I belonged to New York. Instead I belonged to the West. I watch the city change and remain the same as a visitor now. I am learning the place like good friends we see rarely.

There are places I like to visit each time I go to New York, mostly to the museums to see certain artworks that captivate me – even after so many years of visiting them. But also to places that I like the feeling of, or the taste of, the smell of…and to learn new things. To learn a new sense of the place. I go for the thrill, I go to make sure that the place and all the experiences still thrill me. That the art I have fallen in love with over the years is still a thrill. I believe this is the reason to visit a place again and again. It is the reason we retain our friends and our loves. Not because they are convenient or easy but because after all the years, they still thrill us, challenge us, transform the world for us, sometimes stop us in our tracks, make the world spin or stop, inspire and encourage us, push us forward, remind us of what we have committed to in our lives.

I go to re-mix these experiences with the West, with my life I have chosen and committed to. I come home to my life, my love, the activities of my work, to weave these experiences and sensations into how I teach, how I think about making, how I make and how I live and love.


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without words

Three Night Gig

Three Gig Night

 

I have been quiet these past months, writing little. Instead thoughts have been filtered through painting. Another way to describe the way the world is from our point of view…..

 


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Hands

making the world

making the world

A friend of mine recently asked if I indeed use my hands to paint and if so, why. I have given this fact , that I use my hands to paint, some thought and can simply say that using my hands is more direct and sensual than a brush. Perhaps it’s my lack of being able to control the brush to move paint around . Lack of practice. Lack of patience . But then if I get the visual results I seek with the use of my hands why not simply use my hands (and fingers)? I have always used my hands and fingers to manipulate two-dimensional medium. The work feels more real to me this way. I believe I am more directly involved in the creation of the work because I can feel the materials that make the work. As in molding clay, or folding paper. Pencil over the computer perhaps. I also appreciate the remnants and presence of what makes the work. Fingerprints and drags of knuckles across paint. Rather than seek to create work that hides its production method I like the connectivity between what is made and what results. For instance, the spoke shave or chisel for wood work over a highly sanded piece of smooth wood where all obvious marks of hand disappear except the obvious smoothness that results.

I do not reject the paint brush or any other tools that assist the creation of work. But I seek to retain the active memory of our presence when creating art. Sharing ourselves with the rest of humanity.


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Color wins

Winter on the way home

Winter on the way home

Of course color in the world influences me. I see it in the world and then I imagine it in my head. Mixing the color to match what is in my head is the challenge. And when I find that color it’s like finding a friend I have been looking for all of my life .

Winter Horizon, Monoprint, 2013

Winter Horizon, Monoprint, 2013


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Light

wetlands in Lousiana

Marsh meets  Sky

In Southwestern Louisiana where the wetland exists in a variety of conditions between water, earth and sky somedays it feels like I am floating with no definition between one and the other. And just when water fully merges with sky a sliver of land appears.


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Inner and Outer Landscape

monoprints at the Grocery

monoprints at the Grocery

After Baton Rouge my press traveled with me back to Bozeman Montana. Between Summer and Fall Remote Studio I started making monoprints. Actually, whenever I can, I paint. A few weeks ago I took my monoprints to EJ Engler’s gallery space to look at the work all at one time.

Friends often ask what I am painting. How I choose colors. Are they landscapes….While my work is never directly representational (this to that), what I can recognize is that my work explores my inner landscape and the landscape I experience as I move through the world. Feeling and intuition and how color defines these is what guides my work.

The opportunity to look at my work all at one time allowed me to trace technique development and recognize colors that resonate within me, just as we can see in Mark Rothko’s work for instance.


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New ways of seeing

press, ready to rock

press, ready to rock

When I was in graduate school at Harvard I took a series of printing classes at the Carpenter Center. My first teacher in print making was Michael Mazur. He taught us basic techniques for printing, etching, monotypes….After Mazur’s class I took additional courses focusing on monotype. Monotype is the printing process that most closely resembles painting. Each print is an original, there are no duplications or series as can occur in etching. A painting is made on a plate and run through the press on paper.

When I presented my Masters Thesis in Architecture I simultaneously presented a series of monoprints completed while I was completing my architectural work. While I loved the freedom painting afforded me I walked away from the work. I didn’t take seriously the work I had completed in the Carpenter Center. My focus on architecture far out shadowed my focus on print making. But over the years a desire to paint kept in, a desire to express myself through a form that was only limited by my own imagination, materials and technique.

In January of 2012 I finally ordered a press and all of the supplies I needed to get started. 310 pounds is steel rollers, and printing bed was delivered to me in Baton Rouge where I was living at the time. And there I started. Remembering what I had learned over 20 years before.

The painting continues today. On plate and canvas. I am learning about myself. I am learning about the world. How I see the world, how I communicate with

the world in Two-dimensions.


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Favorite places

 

 

 

San Jose, Looking in

San Jose, Looking in

Courtyard

Courtyard

Breakfast!

Breakfast!

Bar Courtyard

Bar Courtyard

to the room

to the room

One of my favorite places to visit is the hotel San Jose in Austin. It’s not my favorite because it’s posh, or hip, or at a great location. It’s because this place inspires quietness, observation, rest, and beauty regardless of season.


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Temperatures

I am flying again. My brain clears as distance is gained from living life up close and without pause. Now, with distance, perspective and writing is possible.
A 4 am alarm woke me this morning to ensure I get to the plane before it leaves the tarmac in Bozeman.
Once above my home ground I watch the dark sky change to early morning light. I have recently learned that what I witness from above the dark clouds this morning is called a double horizon. It looks like this: The uneven horizon line of made from clouds reveal the morning white light that fades perfectly upward to dark night blue holding a delicate crescent moon daintily in it’s darkness. This is the first and obvious horizon. Sun rising above clouds. The second one is the fire red line of light that cuts through and between the dark line of clouds below me. If it was fire season I would think it was a line of fire running across the ground below. But I know this ground, the mountains I am flying over are covered in snow. I accept that the line of red looking like a pen exploded across a black sheet of paper is the sun rising below me. Light stuttering in and out of the clouds. Here, the second horizon calls out the shape of the Earth below reminding me of the intense shards of sunrise that sparked above Teton Valley this past Fall. These sunrises were captured over many mornings for photographic volleys exchanged between my point of view in Jackson Hole and another’s found in Bozeman’s early morning hours.

Soul mates are discovered as our spirits respond to each other. Marking life, matching perspective, listening for the crackling of energy exchanged in ideas about living. Smelling for the fire that sparks a brighter sense of the world. Witnessing the single sun we orbit around as it manifests a double horizon between us. Between earth, cloud, and vapor. Day and night co-existing for a few moments before passing from sun to moon, light born over and over again.

earth meeting the morning

earth meeting the morning