between here and there


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Coloring the world

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Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks!

My first piece of fused glass.

All part of the practice.


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on the way to being

 

a little Donald Judd for the morning

a little Donald Judd for the morning

When we are children we wonder who we will become, when we are adults we wonder who have become.
Between Becoming and being…we are all apart of the extensive continuum.
We are constantly becoming ourselves. And Simply being along the way.

Practicing

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a practice of making

a practice of making

What we know, we can practice. We know ways of being, we practice these. These practices add up to a life, lived. We learn, believe and live differently. We practice our differences, and if we practice diligently there is a unique presence that comes to live on the Earth for a while. Practice has success, failure, sharing, love, making and challenge all wrapped up in time. We transform as we practice, as we move through the world every day. These posts found under “PRACTICE” are shared thoughts about practicing, and moments of my practice.

Let us all be brave to find the best way for each of us to Practice, to create a life that is full of moments of who we are.


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Dreaming of Utah

Utah, South of Moab

Utah, land of dreams

I have been dreaming of Utah these past nights. Not those kind of dreams you have when you are wishing you could go somewhere. Not the melancholy type. But the kind of dreams that are had from experience, when your subconscious is so full of an experience that it pours out of you after you have had it. The dreaming is rich of the landscape. They are not full of saga or people, or any far-fetched narrative. They are full of the place, the feelings, textures, smells, and colors. Every night after I close my eyes I relive the place. The overwhelming beauty.

I have never had such realistic and vivid dreams before of a real place, portrayed in a true and actual dynamic. I am wondering what this means for my psyche. Have I found my spirit home? Or was the experience simply overpowering that my subconscious is relishing the intensity of the memories?

Utah. I await the next adventure.

 

rain falls on Utah, the mist of magic

rain falls on Utah, the mist of magic


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Intuition vs. Analytics

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I don’t care what IBM claims, Analytics does not replace Intuition.


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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

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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