The following is an updated essay on my experience late last year as a juror for an international art exhibition. I had published an article about this and gave an interview somewhat pre-emptively and therefore withdrew it at the time. Several months have passed, and the sorrows of the rejected and the exhilaration of the accepted has been tempered. The Mosaic Arts International Exhibition has been held in Chicago, catalogues purchased, work probably shipped back home or sold by now. Economic and family circumstances prevented me from attending the Society of American Mosaic Artists Conference to see first hand the exhibition that I helped jury. I therefore never was able to discuss the jurying process on hand so I will belatedly discuss it now. I do feel that since it is no longer an emotionally charged matter, a better perspective can be brought to bear on the words that detail this process.
I used two sets of criteria for judging the current SAMA exhibition. One set of criteria was for the individual mosaic works, the other set was for maintaining the integrity of the exhibition as a whole through presenting a diverse body of work representative of the best that the art form has to offer. With regard to the latter, I sought to achieve a balance of abstract, decorative and representational mosaics. I also sought to include mosaics in a wide variety of media so that the viewing audience as well as other artists would be inspired to think creatively and outside the norm. I aspired to be as egalitarian as possible in choosing mosaics that used both high end, expensive materials, and those that incorporated everyday found objects. I hoped to compile an exhibition that would be instrumental in showcasing the art in such a way as to promote the appreciation for and stimulate positive growth of the art of mosaics. For evaluating the mosaics on a case by case basis, I looked first at the craftsmanship of the individual pieces. How well did the artist cut, adhere and blend the individual tesserae? Did their choice of placement reveal careful study and understanding of the art form? If not, was there evidence of a purposeful "bending of the rules," so to speak, to create a highly individualized approach to the andamento of the mosaic? I also sought to answer the question, through scrutinizing individual works, of why the medium of mosaic was used to express the artist’s creative intentions and how well this choice of medium conveyed their ideas. I read every artist’s statement to see how well their written essays dovetailed with their visual interpretations. Would another media have served just as well or better than mosaic to convey the message? Why mosaic?
I chose mosaics on the basis of how well this medium was used to the best of its capacity and in all its glory. I also looked for originality and creativity.
The jurying process itself was fascinating. I was part of a three person panel of judges, one from Great Britain, one from Mexico, and I representing the United States. Our jurying was done online through Juried Arts Services. We all judged about five hundred entries, architectural works, 2-dimensional and 3-dimensional mosaics all included in the same batch. Each entrant was rated on a scale of one to seven, one being the lowest and seven being the highest. All three jurors voted in three rounds with results being tabulated at the end of each round. I had mixed feelings about on-line jurying. On the one hand, it was a great convenience for jurors who may want to work as a team but are in different geographic locations. It saved time and money for entrants as well. In an ideal situation though, jurying would be done from actual art work. But because mosaics are often quite heavy and the jurors were at various places around the globe this was not practical. Perhaps a good compromise would have been to have made selections for the exhibition on line and awards given in person from viewing the actual art work. This would have entailed, of course, flying in the jurors, which may or may not have been practical for a small organization on a strict budget. If some compromise could have been arranged with regard to virtual and real world viewing I would have loved to have seen that happen in the case of mosaics. Mosaics are so dependent on texture and low relief, photography can often not do them justice.
Another possible improvement for future exhibitions would be for the artists to get a numerical score for their submissions. There are few organizations that do this but the ones that do give their artists valuable feedback. When I applied for entry into the Smithsonian exhibition, I did not gain entry, but was told that I had been in the upper 25% of entrants. This was helpful to know so that I didn’t second guess my photography or the subject matter of my submissions. With the jurying process that is in place now through Juried Arts Services there are three rounds of jurying with eliminations made after each round. But an artist will only know that his work either gained entry or did not, and not how far along in the jurying process his work went. An art work eliminated in round one is very different from a mosaic that is eliminated after round three.
In the process of jurying the art work, I would occasionally see familiar faces reflected in the submissions. Although this is an anonymous process, there are certain "signature pieces" that would come up - something I had seen on the cover of a magazine for instance - making the working positively identifiable. When that happened I found myself reflecting on something that I heard from a national juror some time ago. When I was a freshly minted MFA, I attended a seminar at the College Art Association conference in New York hosted by the National Endowment for the Arts. In detailing some of the factors in awarding artists grant money, one of the representatives said "It helps if we know you." I was shocked at this unbridled admission of what appeared to be blatant bias and it rattled my sensibilities as a young aspiring artist hoping for fair and democratic treatment by the art world. Decades later, I understand her words better as simply a candid confession of the way of the art world. In this respect, in any jurying venue, the fame factor comes into play. High profile artists often have highly recognizable art work. Regardless of the professed anonymity it was impossible not to associate a name with a style.. I would like to think that it had not influenced my judgement. As a strict rule, I separate a person from his or her art. This is because no matter the person or his peccadillos, a person making art is a human being at his or her best. Their art is a gift and should be cherished as such - especially when it is excellent. Conversely, no matter how beautiful a person is, if they have been less than stellar in their approach to their art and need to apply themselves to their craft just a little more diligently, it does them or the art no service to promote their creative work before the art of those who have worked harder and sacrificed more.
But having said that, when I looked at some of these mosaics and know just how much some of the makers have contributed towards pushing the art form forward, the words "It helps if we know you," kept coming back to me. But they were all outstanding pieces so there wasn’t a true conflict of interest there - at least I hope not. I have to confess here though, that while I was jurying I realized that my own work would be recognized by select groups of artists. I couldn’t help but think that I certainly hope that I haven’t alienated them!
Having set goals for a cohesive exhibition, set standards for artistic integrity and accounted for the fame and familiarity factor I set to work. Art that did not make the first cut was often eliminated due to poor photography or to the artist not having fully developed his/her skills. Again, it would be helpful for an artist to have had a numerical score so that he/she could seek better training or hire a photographer. A mosaic that didn’t make a second cut were those pieces that were competent but perhaps too formulaic. Someone whose work was eliminated at this point might compare his work to his contemporaries to see if he is presenting something that stands apart from the crowd. He could then review his work to see if he is growing artistically beyond the conventions he has been taught. Any work that went very far in the jurying process but still did not gain entry was a winning mosaic in my estimation. The artist should try again in a different venue with a different juror. Indeed, one of the pieces that I had short listed for a juror’s choice award after round three had been eliminated by the other jurors for the final round!
The process of paring about five hundred mosaics down to a core group that was less than a sixth of that number was very difficult. There were some mosaics that I was sorry to see not make the final round and I hope that they will find their own cherished spots on a gallery or museum wall some day. The jurying process was fascinating, albeit somewhat painful. I mean painful in both the metaphorical way as well as physical for during the process I actually had a dental accident and lost a tooth! It seemed like a macabre parody of the art of chopping bits of stone for a mosaic. So intense was the experience that I began to bodily produce tesserae!
It was exhilarating to be immersed in the world of mosaics for a few days. I was so impressed by the ingenuity of these presentations. And I felt humbled by the time and patience artists must have devoted to completing these. They made me want to return to my studio and a work harder. Some of the accompanying artist’s statements that I read were as well crafted as the mosaics themselves and they, too, were an inspiration. It was indeed a rare privilege to be able to do this.
I took my responsibility seriously and allowed myself ample time to review the mosaics.
While jurying the exhibition, I sometimes revisited my own strengths and weaknesses in various stages of developing as an artist. I could now see reflections of some of my own foibles in statements that were perhaps overly glib or sometimes unnecessarily obfuscating. Or maybe there was a time when I hadn’t presented an art work at its best. I could appreciate how painstaking the process of artistic development is by being on the other side of that looking glass. I even learned a few things about how I might photograph my work differently in the future.
I made many notes about compositions, techniques and materials that I might incorporate into my own work some day. During the jurying process, I borrowed an element of one of my favorite mosaics and painted it on the side of a ceramic ocarina I designed - it had such an elegant charm!
The experience itself shifted with the various stages of the jurying process. The first stage was not difficult because the jurors all seemed to concur on what should move on to stage two. The second round was more difficult because pieces that were quite competent were removed. Yet there seemed for the most part a confluence of selection. By the third stage I believe that some of the jurors’s differences began to emerge as the selection grew more subjective. What was interesting about jurying from a large pool of entries was that some of the images that tended to keep popping out strongly were often those that were simple yet iconic. I acknowledged this while attempting not to be too influenced by what I thought might be a kind of juror’s battle fatigue - losing the ability to concentrate on intricacy - for I love the particular complexity inherent in mosaics. At all stages I was acutely aware of the consequences of my choices. No matter how seasoned an artist is, a rejection still stings on some level. And it was a little sobering to feel that other artists were stung by my choices - which was one reason why I was grateful for these choices being shared among three jurors. I felt confident, though, that the process produced a great exhibition and was sorry I couldn’t see it in person.
April 12, 2010
March 15, 2010
Eleven Bullets of the Civil War
Above is a detail from my latest figurative mosaic, Eleven Bullets of the Civil War, featured at right. It is so named for the actual civil war bullets incorporated into the mosaic. I am usually not quite so literal in my titles for art work but this one just seemed to write itself. The bullets were found on the trip home from Maryland last summer and the figure was modeled that same summer. For some months now they sat in the studio unassembled while I ruminated over them.
It takes me a while to compose the elements of a mosaic - although these days I am moving slower than usual. The placement of parts in a mosaic of found objects such as this one can change the message depending upon where they go and what they are next to. While composing this mosaic I kept this in mind, asking questions all the during the slow assembly. Should the bullets be arranged in a row to evoke the straight and narrow way of the military? Or should they be scattered to indicate the chaos of war? I decided to use them in provocative, ironic ways, as parts of architecture, as a pillow and foot rest. They surround and embellish a neolithic spear head (given to me as a gift one year ago). After arranging them all to my satisfaction, I had one spare bullet that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. I almost put it aside when I finally realized that all the other bullets were on their sides, flush with the picture plane. This last bullet I cemented to the picture in such a way as to project outward towards the viewer. How awful and confrontational! The last bullet would point at the viewer’s head should the picture be hung at eye level. Should someone ask why I changed the orientation of that last bullet I would be obliged to come up with an answer. My answer would go something like this:
The last bullet punctures the illusion of peace in war time. It makes us see that which we wish not to see but which happens nevertheless. The last bullet shatters the notion that America at war does not in some way involve us all and that, aware of it or not, it is a part of us. It is that lingering, nagging sadness in the back of the mind as we go about our daily business, made manifest by a direct shot of confrontation.
It takes me a while to compose the elements of a mosaic - although these days I am moving slower than usual. The placement of parts in a mosaic of found objects such as this one can change the message depending upon where they go and what they are next to. While composing this mosaic I kept this in mind, asking questions all the during the slow assembly. Should the bullets be arranged in a row to evoke the straight and narrow way of the military? Or should they be scattered to indicate the chaos of war? I decided to use them in provocative, ironic ways, as parts of architecture, as a pillow and foot rest. They surround and embellish a neolithic spear head (given to me as a gift one year ago). After arranging them all to my satisfaction, I had one spare bullet that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. I almost put it aside when I finally realized that all the other bullets were on their sides, flush with the picture plane. This last bullet I cemented to the picture in such a way as to project outward towards the viewer. How awful and confrontational! The last bullet would point at the viewer’s head should the picture be hung at eye level. Should someone ask why I changed the orientation of that last bullet I would be obliged to come up with an answer. My answer would go something like this:
The last bullet punctures the illusion of peace in war time. It makes us see that which we wish not to see but which happens nevertheless. The last bullet shatters the notion that America at war does not in some way involve us all and that, aware of it or not, it is a part of us. It is that lingering, nagging sadness in the back of the mind as we go about our daily business, made manifest by a direct shot of confrontation.
It is difficult to be aware of the extent of what happens in Iraq and Afghanistan. Unlike Vietnam, which was brought into livingrooms in graphic horror, the current wars are filtered somewhat my media coverage, I believe. Hence it is a new kind of civil war.
March 14, 2010
Characters in Dance and Writing
For the last month, I have been traveling the state to teach Chinese Calligraphy and Painting. My program, A Brush With History, teaches students the historical development of Chinese writing and painting with hands on training in brush painting. My February Residency at Spartanburg Day School happened to coincide with Mardi Gras, which only added to the festive spirit - replete with King Cake served in the school cafeteria. King Cake was a delicacy that I had been hitherto unacquainted with, but as someone with a penchant for sweet things, I was more than happy to make that acquaintance. It was a tubular creation filled with an eclair-like cream and festooned with sugar sprinkles in a gaudy array of colors ranging from purple to yellow. Tradition has it that a small baby doll is hidden inside and whoever gets the piece with the baby in it will have good luck and will throw the next party. (I’m not sure how bearing the expense for a party can be called "lucky" but I suppose you just have to roll with that).
My Brush with History residency went quite well. The classes were small, the students were attentive and my teaching hosts were very accommodating. The school was unusual in that a Chinese language program had been in place and the elementary students already had up to four years of exposure to Chinese. I was also amazed at the plethora of work by professional artists adorning the hallways and hung in large meeting places. The cafeteria was like a restaurant with a full time professional chef. My eyes were often wide in disbelief at the cornucopia of fresh fruit and greens available. Such is the lot of private school students: good food, good culture, small classes, one-on-one attention opportunities. Although the residency was only four days, I was able to cover the three classic elements of Chinese Painting: calligraphy, brush painting and seal carving. The residency was fortuitously covered in the Spartanburg Herald as my stay happened to coincide with a visit to the school of a Chinese contingency from Guilin.
My second residency was at A C Flora High School in Columbia, SC. What a contrast public to private school was! The grounds were still under construction and there was a lot of repair work still needed on the school infrastructure. Teachers packed their own lunches but that was fun anyway for the lunch comradery. At Spartanburg Day School I had about a total of thirty eight students. At A C Flora there were over one hundred. (I have had some public school experiences where there were over two hundred students for the week Some teachers regularly have about one thousand!) Although some of the combined classes were quite large, I fortunately had the help of the visual arts teacher, Mary Conner as well as the dance instructor, Gayle Etheridge. This was an experimental residency combining dance students and visual art students. It was the culmination of something I had been wanting to do for several years - have dance students choreograph a performance based upon Chinese calligraphy. It entailed having both the visual art and dance students study Chinese calligraphy forms; the basic strokes of kai characters, stroke order, and stylistic variations such as oracle bone, zhuan shu, xing shu, li shu and cao shu. The final day, the entire group of participating students were divided into fourteen groups of about five to eight students - visual artists mixed with dancers. Because I had about two decades of pent up ideas with regard to dance and Chinese calligraphy I had loads of suggestions for these groups. The art teacher and the dance instructor advised me, however, to hold back as much as possible during the student’s creative phase. And they were right because although many students incorporated some of my ideas, most of them came up with even better ones on their own.
Despite the two days of emphasis on Kai, or regular hand characters (something I could compare to printing versus script) most of the students performed dances based on zhuan characters. This made sense in that ancient Chinese zhuan characters (roughly 800 BC) are closer to pictographs and it is easy to envision people striking exotic poses when looking at them. In some instances, though, these were used as elaborate floor patterns for creating dance movements - something I wouldn’t have thought of. Since I provided translations of the zhuan characters many of the students focused on literary content in their dances. One used the concept of wisdom and philosophy, another used both the form and content of the sun and earth elements.
There was one truly brilliant dance performed to the writing of basic strokes of kai characters and I was glad to see at least one group take on that challenge. There was one particularly fascinating bit of choreography with the calligraphers drawing in the air with brushes over the heads of the dancers who simultaneously "translated" these gestures into body movements. The students did such a great job that I almost cried at their performances.
Performance day itself was full of surprises. We had a visit from the director of the Confucius Institute at USC, Professor Tan Ye. Professor Ye gave us information about what how the Confucius Institute is supporting scholarly exchanges between South Carolina students and China and encouraged the high school students to consider further language and cultural studies. Professor Ye did not come empty handed and presented students with a bag full of goodies in the way of Beijing Opera letter openers and silk good luck charms to hang from door knobs.
After the residency, I attended a meeting with the dance instructor, her student teacher, as well as the art instructor. We all came up with ideas to make the next residency even better but most of all we just took some time to bask in the warmth of each other’s company and the satisfaction of a job well done.
My Brush with History residency went quite well. The classes were small, the students were attentive and my teaching hosts were very accommodating. The school was unusual in that a Chinese language program had been in place and the elementary students already had up to four years of exposure to Chinese. I was also amazed at the plethora of work by professional artists adorning the hallways and hung in large meeting places. The cafeteria was like a restaurant with a full time professional chef. My eyes were often wide in disbelief at the cornucopia of fresh fruit and greens available. Such is the lot of private school students: good food, good culture, small classes, one-on-one attention opportunities. Although the residency was only four days, I was able to cover the three classic elements of Chinese Painting: calligraphy, brush painting and seal carving. The residency was fortuitously covered in the Spartanburg Herald as my stay happened to coincide with a visit to the school of a Chinese contingency from Guilin.
My second residency was at A C Flora High School in Columbia, SC. What a contrast public to private school was! The grounds were still under construction and there was a lot of repair work still needed on the school infrastructure. Teachers packed their own lunches but that was fun anyway for the lunch comradery. At Spartanburg Day School I had about a total of thirty eight students. At A C Flora there were over one hundred. (I have had some public school experiences where there were over two hundred students for the week Some teachers regularly have about one thousand!) Although some of the combined classes were quite large, I fortunately had the help of the visual arts teacher, Mary Conner as well as the dance instructor, Gayle Etheridge. This was an experimental residency combining dance students and visual art students. It was the culmination of something I had been wanting to do for several years - have dance students choreograph a performance based upon Chinese calligraphy. It entailed having both the visual art and dance students study Chinese calligraphy forms; the basic strokes of kai characters, stroke order, and stylistic variations such as oracle bone, zhuan shu, xing shu, li shu and cao shu. The final day, the entire group of participating students were divided into fourteen groups of about five to eight students - visual artists mixed with dancers. Because I had about two decades of pent up ideas with regard to dance and Chinese calligraphy I had loads of suggestions for these groups. The art teacher and the dance instructor advised me, however, to hold back as much as possible during the student’s creative phase. And they were right because although many students incorporated some of my ideas, most of them came up with even better ones on their own.
Despite the two days of emphasis on Kai, or regular hand characters (something I could compare to printing versus script) most of the students performed dances based on zhuan characters. This made sense in that ancient Chinese zhuan characters (roughly 800 BC) are closer to pictographs and it is easy to envision people striking exotic poses when looking at them. In some instances, though, these were used as elaborate floor patterns for creating dance movements - something I wouldn’t have thought of. Since I provided translations of the zhuan characters many of the students focused on literary content in their dances. One used the concept of wisdom and philosophy, another used both the form and content of the sun and earth elements.
There was one truly brilliant dance performed to the writing of basic strokes of kai characters and I was glad to see at least one group take on that challenge. There was one particularly fascinating bit of choreography with the calligraphers drawing in the air with brushes over the heads of the dancers who simultaneously "translated" these gestures into body movements. The students did such a great job that I almost cried at their performances.
Performance day itself was full of surprises. We had a visit from the director of the Confucius Institute at USC, Professor Tan Ye. Professor Ye gave us information about what how the Confucius Institute is supporting scholarly exchanges between South Carolina students and China and encouraged the high school students to consider further language and cultural studies. Professor Ye did not come empty handed and presented students with a bag full of goodies in the way of Beijing Opera letter openers and silk good luck charms to hang from door knobs.
After the residency, I attended a meeting with the dance instructor, her student teacher, as well as the art instructor. We all came up with ideas to make the next residency even better but most of all we just took some time to bask in the warmth of each other’s company and the satisfaction of a job well done.
March 13, 2010
Abstract Expressions: Both Ancient and Modern
While routing through my materials I came across a painting I did as a demonstration work for a course I taught last year for the Columbia Museum of Art on automatism in Abstract Expressionism. In keeping with my vow to either throw out excess material or use it up in a new way, I decided to "complete" this little painting by making it into a collage with strips of leftover paintings from a different course I had taught previously on lightweight mosaics.
Despite my title for this log, Abstract Expressionism is not entirely modern in that its adherents were painting about sixty years ago - how time flies! But there has been a resurgence of interest in this period and the theories behind the creation of 1950's and 60's abstract painting.
Despite my title for this log, Abstract Expressionism is not entirely modern in that its adherents were painting about sixty years ago - how time flies! But there has been a resurgence of interest in this period and the theories behind the creation of 1950's and 60's abstract painting.
In my own work, I noticed something calligraphic about the black brush marks so decided to add finishing touches with prints of stone seals that I had carved last fall. They read Gold River and Black Water. Inclusion of these two prints makes this newly revived work something of a cultural overlay. In recent weeks I have been teaching more Chinese so integrating these disparate units of different times and far away places into my painting just seems natural.
March 7, 2010
The Other Collage Squares
From my previous writing, including some blogs, readers will know about my ongoing desire to keep from accumulating too many materials in the studio and home. This is of course a daunting challeng
e because of the nature of my work as a mixed media and found object artist working in several genres. I just keep finding stuff and making more stuff with it. So in keeping with not keeping too much around, I chose to cut and paste old pieces of previous painting studies on paper and use them in the last two collages squares I made for the Kansas City extension of the "Homage to Squares..." exhibition. These two compositions were simply called "Expressions" as they were simple experiments with limited color palettes. Green and orange have always been favorite colors of mine and I made liberal use of these colors for the square painting above. I knifed through the paint in several areas as well to make primitive scrawls like those seen on neolithic pottery or the etchings on ancient Chinese oracle bones.
The predominantly black and white pattern to the right looks forward to an exhibition idea for next year, "Basically Black."
e because of the nature of my work as a mixed media and found object artist working in several genres. I just keep finding stuff and making more stuff with it. So in keeping with not keeping too much around, I chose to cut and paste old pieces of previous painting studies on paper and use them in the last two collages squares I made for the Kansas City extension of the "Homage to Squares..." exhibition. These two compositions were simply called "Expressions" as they were simple experiments with limited color palettes. Green and orange have always been favorite colors of mine and I made liberal use of these colors for the square painting above. I knifed through the paint in several areas as well to make primitive scrawls like those seen on neolithic pottery or the etchings on ancient Chinese oracle bones.The predominantly black and white pattern to the right looks forward to an exhibition idea for next year, "Basically Black."
March 5, 2010
Opening Day: Squared Away
Today marks the opening of the second installment of my exhibition, "Homage to Squares: The Poetry of Paintings and Mosaics." The down side of not selling much work at an exhibition is that it can be difficult to cover exhibition costs, let alone make a profit. The up side is that the artist still has a body of work available to travel to a new venue. If one is lucky enough, another gallery/museum will host the continuing saga of the ever growing body of art.
Regardless of the fact that I could just recycle the same exhibition in a different setting, I generally pull some old work out and replace it with some new things to freshen it up. In the case of Kansas City exhibition, pragmatism prevailed in this regard because everything had to be shipped to location. Small works on canvas were ideal for shipping but even mid-range mosaics, with their plethora of stones and ceramics, were problematic. As a consequence, only five of these were shipped out. What I made to fill the wall space usually taken by these heavier works were a series of small square collages weighing just ounces each. I took as inspiration for this small run of collage work, the paintings of the abstract expressionists I had reacquainted myself with when I taught this subject at the Columbia Museum of Art last August. Using a decidedly automatist technique, I painted small square non-objective compositions with acrylic on paper then mounted these onto a tinted museum board base. I then reinterpreted elements of the painted colors and composition with painted papers cut in various shapes and sizes. These were pasted onto the background in mosaic designs, sometimes tessellated, other times cut in haphazard patterns. There was something very peaceful about the act of assembling these small compositions in the joy of working only with shapes, textures and colors. Objects are fascinating but sometimes worrisome for artists- having to get something that reasonably evokes recognition.
The first square in this series is influenced by Gottlieb - the rounded forms with their definitive black outlines. But the color palette is decidedly different, more earthy. The painting to the left was purposely done in counterpoint to the first one, in soft pastel colors redolent of the comfort of flannel pajamas. I will look forward to having these paintings back again but would rather they find homes in the midwest.
Regardless of the fact that I could just recycle the same exhibition in a different setting, I generally pull some old work out and replace it with some new things to freshen it up. In the case of Kansas City exhibition, pragmatism prevailed in this regard because everything had to be shipped to location. Small works on canvas were ideal for shipping but even mid-range mosaics, with their plethora of stones and ceramics, were problematic. As a consequence, only five of these were shipped out. What I made to fill the wall space usually taken by these heavier works were a series of small square collages weighing just ounces each. I took as inspiration for this small run of collage work, the paintings of the abstract expressionists I had reacquainted myself with when I taught this subject at the Columbia Museum of Art last August. Using a decidedly automatist technique, I painted small square non-objective compositions with acrylic on paper then mounted these onto a tinted museum board base. I then reinterpreted elements of the painted colors and composition with painted papers cut in various shapes and sizes. These were pasted onto the background in mosaic designs, sometimes tessellated, other times cut in haphazard patterns. There was something very peaceful about the act of assembling these small compositions in the joy of working only with shapes, textures and colors. Objects are fascinating but sometimes worrisome for artists- having to get something that reasonably evokes recognition.
The first square in this series is influenced by Gottlieb - the rounded forms with their definitive black outlines. But the color palette is decidedly different, more earthy. The painting to the left was purposely done in counterpoint to the first one, in soft pastel colors redolent of the comfort of flannel pajamas. I will look forward to having these paintings back again but would rather they find homes in the midwest.
March 4, 2010
Allergy Shots and On-Line Diaries
Allergy Shots and On-line Diaries
2010 sprung into being about two months too soon. Here it is March and I am finishing up projects and starting new ones that I thought would be welcoming the advent of the new year. We expect to keep up with things and finish what we started but sometimes life gets in the way. A protracted respiratory illness beginning in December and ending in February, along with various and sundry little setbacks and a heavy schedule of obligations caused two things that I generally keep up with to fall by the wayside: allergy shots and my blog site. Why these two things would be the ballast of daily life that ended up being jettisoned in order to keep moving forward I cannot say. They aren’t exactly related. But in either case, getting on board again will require catching up and starting over. New vial of antigens, new paintings, new drawings, new writing.
So to catch up where I left off in December, after I participated as a juror in the International Mosaic Arts contest, the saga continued with my renewing my membership in the venerable old mosaic organization that I had founded ten years ago and joining a new on-line mosaic group, the Contemporary Mosaic Arts. It is good to be social again after such a long hiatus. Sadly, I will be unable to join my colleagues in Chicago and to see my selections in person. But I am hoping to get to Kansas City to catch up with graduate school classmates from twenty years ago. Perhaps the twenty year reunion, due to a sense of seniority, takes precedence over the ten year one?
The biggest project that was brought to fruition these past months, is the catalogue and digital archive of my work, which now includes about 1600 entries. It occurred to me that if I wrote a story about each work one day at a time it would take about four and a half years to get through my life story in art - what a journey that would be! I might try it if I can finish uploading the drawing collection.!
The second big project for 2010 was finishing the work for my Kansas City exhibition, crating it and shipping it out to location. This exhibition opens tomorrow evening at the Thornhill Gallery at Avila University so I will begin my blog again by posting some of the new work for 2010 now out in the midwest. The three paintings posted are three views of a parade from 1984 viewed from Tian An Men Square in Beijing. The paintings are based on photographs that my husband took on site those ages ago and which I posted on my earlier blog, "Sixty Years and Three Parades: The Long March to Conservative Reporting on China." In the paintings I kept the people crowd-like and nebulous, to emphasis the massive group of humanity moving forward with these ridiculous floats. My favorite painting is the one of Red Balloons over the portrait of Lenin.
2010 sprung into being about two months too soon. Here it is March and I am finishing up projects and starting new ones that I thought would be welcoming the advent of the new year. We expect to keep up with things and finish what we started but sometimes life gets in the way. A protracted respiratory illness beginning in December and ending in February, along with various and sundry little setbacks and a heavy schedule of obligations caused two things that I generally keep up with to fall by the wayside: allergy shots and my blog site. Why these two things would be the ballast of daily life that ended up being jettisoned in order to keep moving forward I cannot say. They aren’t exactly related. But in either case, getting on board again will require catching up and starting over. New vial of antigens, new paintings, new drawings, new writing.
So to catch up where I left off in December, after I participated as a juror in the International Mosaic Arts contest, the saga continued with my renewing my membership in the venerable old mosaic organization that I had founded ten years ago and joining a new on-line mosaic group, the Contemporary Mosaic Arts. It is good to be social again after such a long hiatus. Sadly, I will be unable to join my colleagues in Chicago and to see my selections in person. But I am hoping to get to Kansas City to catch up with graduate school classmates from twenty years ago. Perhaps the twenty year reunion, due to a sense of seniority, takes precedence over the ten year one?
The biggest project that was brought to fruition these past months, is the catalogue and digital archive of my work, which now includes about 1600 entries. It occurred to me that if I wrote a story about each work one day at a time it would take about four and a half years to get through my life story in art - what a journey that would be! I might try it if I can finish uploading the drawing collection.!
The second big project for 2010 was finishing the work for my Kansas City exhibition, crating it and shipping it out to location. This exhibition opens tomorrow evening at the Thornhill Gallery at Avila University so I will begin my blog again by posting some of the new work for 2010 now out in the midwest. The three paintings posted are three views of a parade from 1984 viewed from Tian An Men Square in Beijing. The paintings are based on photographs that my husband took on site those ages ago and which I posted on my earlier blog, "Sixty Years and Three Parades: The Long March to Conservative Reporting on China." In the paintings I kept the people crowd-like and nebulous, to emphasis the massive group of humanity moving forward with these ridiculous floats. My favorite painting is the one of Red Balloons over the portrait of Lenin.
December 28, 2009
Eyes of Blue I.O.U
This December one of my commissions was actually an IOU - a painting made as an in-kind service to graphic designer Rachel Bair Ficek. It is nice to have this painting finished and feel that everything is squared away and even for the end of this year. The painting was of Rachel’s two children and her sister’s three children - five little portraits to get right on one canvas. How daunting!
Because portraiture requires accuracy I spent a long time making a transfer grid and preparing a grisaille. For the grisaille I used red and umber earth tones with touches of shell white over a rose colored ground. The painting above is this painting sketch, or underpainting. Besides making certain that everyone is sitting where they ought to be on a canvas, the grisaille also brings out any defects in the canvas such as scratches or uneven paint that has to be corrected. There were two areas that had to be patched and allowed to dry before proceeding.
One by one, the children appeared in full color as I applied pigment over the grisaille. The second child to be completed is the pleasingly plump boy to the right. I found the children’s hands to be very expressive and included them in the painting to add an extra dimension of personality.
Because portraiture requires accuracy I spent a long time making a transfer grid and preparing a grisaille. For the grisaille I used red and umber earth tones with touches of shell white over a rose colored ground. The painting above is this painting sketch, or underpainting. Besides making certain that everyone is sitting where they ought to be on a canvas, the grisaille also brings out any defects in the canvas such as scratches or uneven paint that has to be corrected. There were two areas that had to be patched and allowed to dry before proceeding.
One by one, the children appeared in full color as I applied pigment over the grisaille. The second child to be completed is the pleasingly plump boy to the right. I found the children’s hands to be very expressive and included them in the painting to add an extra dimension of personality.
December 27, 2009
A Dog Named Bear
A Dog Named Bear
Artists’ work in December often runs towards the small and intimate. It is the Christmas market. Craftsmen busy themselves turning out trinkets. Large and ponderous work falls by the wayside as all hands work for the immediate gift giving market. It is a strange time of year for artists-for-hire; fulfilling the desires of others.
Unexpectedly, I had small commissions and large commitments to complete on short notice. As they were gifts for other givers the subject matter and execution was somewhat outside my usual repertoire. They consisted of two small paintings of beloved dogs for their person companions and one group portrait of five children to be given to their grandmother for Christmas.
It was a challenge at first to become motivated to paint subjects that were of much greater sentimental value to people other than myself, but times being what they were, and still are, I rose to that challenge. One of my subjects was a little dog named "Bear." As I sized up Bear and began to paint his visage on a small panel I reminded myself that although I don’t know him, I could at least do a decent job of making an oil painting of him. In order to interpret the photograph I was given in a more artistic manner, I eliminated some of the floor board lines that were cutting across his body and created deeper shadows along the edge of his form.
As I painted that perky little face I was surprised that I began to see something of a presence of animal consciousness. It was looking at that curious consciousness that pets have when perceiving their person companions and aware once more of the mutual adoration of human with animal. It then occurred to me that I was painting something like a small icon. Little Bear reminded me of how emotionally attached people become to their animal companions despite the folly of investing so much time and heart to a living thing with a limited life span. The painting I had completed the week before was of a deceased pet and poor Bear was also not long for this world so I was told. I do hope that he continues to bring his family joy for just a little longer and that my painting will warm the heart for years to come.
Artists’ work in December often runs towards the small and intimate. It is the Christmas market. Craftsmen busy themselves turning out trinkets. Large and ponderous work falls by the wayside as all hands work for the immediate gift giving market. It is a strange time of year for artists-for-hire; fulfilling the desires of others.
Unexpectedly, I had small commissions and large commitments to complete on short notice. As they were gifts for other givers the subject matter and execution was somewhat outside my usual repertoire. They consisted of two small paintings of beloved dogs for their person companions and one group portrait of five children to be given to their grandmother for Christmas.
It was a challenge at first to become motivated to paint subjects that were of much greater sentimental value to people other than myself, but times being what they were, and still are, I rose to that challenge. One of my subjects was a little dog named "Bear." As I sized up Bear and began to paint his visage on a small panel I reminded myself that although I don’t know him, I could at least do a decent job of making an oil painting of him. In order to interpret the photograph I was given in a more artistic manner, I eliminated some of the floor board lines that were cutting across his body and created deeper shadows along the edge of his form.
As I painted that perky little face I was surprised that I began to see something of a presence of animal consciousness. It was looking at that curious consciousness that pets have when perceiving their person companions and aware once more of the mutual adoration of human with animal. It then occurred to me that I was painting something like a small icon. Little Bear reminded me of how emotionally attached people become to their animal companions despite the folly of investing so much time and heart to a living thing with a limited life span. The painting I had completed the week before was of a deceased pet and poor Bear was also not long for this world so I was told. I do hope that he continues to bring his family joy for just a little longer and that my painting will warm the heart for years to come.
December 12, 2009
Slips Showing
I recently participated in the jurying of an international arts exhibition and wrote a blog about the fascinating process and the extraordinary art work that was included in the entries. I uploaded this writing after I heard that the judging results were officially posted. Apparently at that time not all of them were and I may have inadvertently scooped a part of the show. I had also been interviewed about the exhibition in the mistaken understanding that this was something that everyone had agreed to do for the membership. It hadn’t been agreed upon. I apologize for any inconvenience these slips may have caused. Words cannot express how embarrassed it makes me feel. The only word I can think of to capture the feeling is a non word often uttered by Homer Simpson, "DOH!"
In any case, I’ll publish the article I wrote again some time later when feelings of acceptance and rejection are not so near the surface nerves of everyone’s skin. I’ll add to the article both sides of the art competition equation - with shows that I had been juried into or juried out of. In the mean time, in honor of slips, I am for now posting a revised version of my short piece on Freudian Slips.There is a fine meeting of human psychology and creativity in one of the theories of Sigmund Freud. It is perhaps the only theory (or should I say observation?) of Freud that I actually find so entertaining and amusing that I put it into unconscious practice. This is the serendipitous art of the Freudian slip. These slips of the tongue purportedly point to unconscious desires and feelings about a subject as the speaker inadvertently mispronounces something. Truth? Or is it freudulent ?
So what does it mean when I say to my husband when we get into the car, "You drive, I’ll nagivate.?" Of course anyone can be free to nagivate with a captive audience in an enclosed space on a long trip. What better time to bring to light that laundry list of unfinished business?
Another one of my favorite Freudian slips, albeit unconsciously created, is my reference to our beleaguered utility room. This is the room that most people are familiar with. This is the very room where everything that you don’t know what to do with ends up. This is that limbo space where you put things that you don’t know how to deal with , and would rather not see or have anyone else see . This is where everything that confuses and frustrates belongs - things that one unconsciously wishes to lose - equipment that you can’t figure out or have forgotten how to use. Things that can no longer be matched with written instructions can be put there, and maybe a few hopeless people, too. When my husband asked where such a thing could be put I answered with my characteristic fatalistic charm, "Oh, just put it in the futility room." I am quite confident that I am not the only one in this world with a futility room.
A very odd word construction came spilling out of me when someone described to me a group of language teachers who had gone back to school to retrain in a different field because their university no longer had a use for their skills. I tried to use the word "recycled" but instead the word "resuckled" came out. So is this the fate of people who have lost their usefulness in this world? Send them back. All the way back...to mother’s breast...to relive infancy, childhood, adolescence and young adulthood so they can get it right this time. There are definitely those who need to be resuckled.
A woman who was abusing her power of attorney in order to withhold medical information about a sick parent from other family members I was "slipped" into describing as "Sarah’s Power of Eternity." The distress she caused that was described to me most assuredly seemed like it would last an eternity. There is something in the nature of unpleasantness that causes it to seem without end. And it is often the feeling that a reprieve is no where in sight that makes an unpleasant thing all the more intense. That is the power of eternity.
And what of those days spent chasing down information lost to bureaucracy? Or days spent catching up on tedious chores put off? I spent an entire day recently doing both. I described it to someone as a day spent "running errors." I quickly corrected myself and said that I was running errands. These errands including returning an overdue library book, filling a lapsed prescription, tracking down reports that were never faxed to the appropriate office, tracking down a check payment to a credit card company that got lost in the mail and getting the late fee from the said credit card company dropped. On second thought I believe I was right the first time. I was "running errors."
Sometimes errors of the human unconscious can even come from non-human sources - like spell check on my computer. Whenever I type in my description of my art specialty, "mosaicist," I see a red word flashing in the corner of my screen that says "masochist." Et tu PC? Considering the fact that we live in a fast paced, time is money capitalist society, specializing in an art form that slowly pieces together hand hewn chunks of rocks and ceramic does seem to encourage a sort of artistic suffering. My PC also insists that my surname is an erroneous spelling of the word "cheesecake," but I was never able to figure out what the digital unconscious was trying to tell me. Whether digital or human, the hidden truth is uncanny.
My story of slipped truths is illustrated by my painting of a young man sporting a gar fish on his head. Why it strikes me that a gar fish, that useless fossil-like weird thing, should be Freudian I cannot say. Perhaps it is something in the surreal juxtaposition of a man out of water and this fish on his head. Perhaps there is something secretly phallic about the strange shape of the gar. Or perhaps it is meaningless. After all, sometimes a gar is just a gar.
In any case, I’ll publish the article I wrote again some time later when feelings of acceptance and rejection are not so near the surface nerves of everyone’s skin. I’ll add to the article both sides of the art competition equation - with shows that I had been juried into or juried out of. In the mean time, in honor of slips, I am for now posting a revised version of my short piece on Freudian Slips.There is a fine meeting of human psychology and creativity in one of the theories of Sigmund Freud. It is perhaps the only theory (or should I say observation?) of Freud that I actually find so entertaining and amusing that I put it into unconscious practice. This is the serendipitous art of the Freudian slip. These slips of the tongue purportedly point to unconscious desires and feelings about a subject as the speaker inadvertently mispronounces something. Truth? Or is it freudulent ?
So what does it mean when I say to my husband when we get into the car, "You drive, I’ll nagivate.?" Of course anyone can be free to nagivate with a captive audience in an enclosed space on a long trip. What better time to bring to light that laundry list of unfinished business?
Another one of my favorite Freudian slips, albeit unconsciously created, is my reference to our beleaguered utility room. This is the room that most people are familiar with. This is the very room where everything that you don’t know what to do with ends up. This is that limbo space where you put things that you don’t know how to deal with , and would rather not see or have anyone else see . This is where everything that confuses and frustrates belongs - things that one unconsciously wishes to lose - equipment that you can’t figure out or have forgotten how to use. Things that can no longer be matched with written instructions can be put there, and maybe a few hopeless people, too. When my husband asked where such a thing could be put I answered with my characteristic fatalistic charm, "Oh, just put it in the futility room." I am quite confident that I am not the only one in this world with a futility room.
A very odd word construction came spilling out of me when someone described to me a group of language teachers who had gone back to school to retrain in a different field because their university no longer had a use for their skills. I tried to use the word "recycled" but instead the word "resuckled" came out. So is this the fate of people who have lost their usefulness in this world? Send them back. All the way back...to mother’s breast...to relive infancy, childhood, adolescence and young adulthood so they can get it right this time. There are definitely those who need to be resuckled.
A woman who was abusing her power of attorney in order to withhold medical information about a sick parent from other family members I was "slipped" into describing as "Sarah’s Power of Eternity." The distress she caused that was described to me most assuredly seemed like it would last an eternity. There is something in the nature of unpleasantness that causes it to seem without end. And it is often the feeling that a reprieve is no where in sight that makes an unpleasant thing all the more intense. That is the power of eternity.
And what of those days spent chasing down information lost to bureaucracy? Or days spent catching up on tedious chores put off? I spent an entire day recently doing both. I described it to someone as a day spent "running errors." I quickly corrected myself and said that I was running errands. These errands including returning an overdue library book, filling a lapsed prescription, tracking down reports that were never faxed to the appropriate office, tracking down a check payment to a credit card company that got lost in the mail and getting the late fee from the said credit card company dropped. On second thought I believe I was right the first time. I was "running errors."
Sometimes errors of the human unconscious can even come from non-human sources - like spell check on my computer. Whenever I type in my description of my art specialty, "mosaicist," I see a red word flashing in the corner of my screen that says "masochist." Et tu PC? Considering the fact that we live in a fast paced, time is money capitalist society, specializing in an art form that slowly pieces together hand hewn chunks of rocks and ceramic does seem to encourage a sort of artistic suffering. My PC also insists that my surname is an erroneous spelling of the word "cheesecake," but I was never able to figure out what the digital unconscious was trying to tell me. Whether digital or human, the hidden truth is uncanny.
My story of slipped truths is illustrated by my painting of a young man sporting a gar fish on his head. Why it strikes me that a gar fish, that useless fossil-like weird thing, should be Freudian I cannot say. Perhaps it is something in the surreal juxtaposition of a man out of water and this fish on his head. Perhaps there is something secretly phallic about the strange shape of the gar. Or perhaps it is meaningless. After all, sometimes a gar is just a gar.
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