Looking, thinking, digging deep...

Contemplating a new painting

      I like to say that at a certain point in the painting process, watching me work is like watching paint dry. At first, there's usually a lot quickish choices being made about color, form and placement. Then, once I've gotten over the usually annoying mid point of making the painting, there's a slowing of mark making and much more contemplation of what's in front of me. I have a habit of looking at my paintings from all sorts of odd angles at times. One of the most unconscious positions is turning my head sideways instead of the painting. I was taught long ago that you should rotate your paintings to see how they are working from different directions. The classic move is to turn it upside down. This is used as one way to determine how the painting is holding together compositionally. The point is that there is a lot of thinking going on when we're sitting or standing in front of a work. Even when I'm not in front of it, like at home or some place other than the studio, the work is on my mind. I'm mulling over possibilities of changes or placement of forms as I'm walking down the street. I'm trying out all sorts of compositional possibilities when I'm in the shower. I'm considering which new materials I could use as I'm washing dishes. The work is never ending, but I also love it this way. 

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   Last week,  I found a couple of chairs in the hallway of the floor I'm on in the Crane Arts Building that someone didn't want any more. I took them in because they're softer and generally more comfortable than the hard molded plastic chairs I already have. They both have old thin leather covering the back and seat. The frames are made out of silver metal of some sort. I brought them into the studio, wiped them down and am enjoying having them. I still need to get a couch in there. Studio naps are essential not only to my well-being, but the well-being of the work. 

    Trying to push through sleepiness in the middle of the day or late afternoon is tough without a proper place to take a nap. I feel like a good hour to hour-and-a-half is a good period of time for a nap. They are so necessary for helping to keep my mind clear during the day. Taking time to nap is so beneficial for thinking. Art is really taxing mentally and physically sometimes. It's best to try and keep your mind sharp so that you don't go about making bad choices in the work. Well, bad choices happen regardless of napping or not, but the likelihood of them increasing is greater without resting a little during the day. 

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    I watched a "behind the scenes" video with Tom Cruise that's the beginning of the hype machine for the next installment of the "Mission Impossible" franchise. This one was interesting to see because it shows how much of a committed actor TC is. He is known for doing a lot of his own stunts and this video showed just how deep that commitment is. One of the big stunts is him riding a motocross bike off of a huge ramp, off the side of a cliff and then parachuting down into a ravine that's closed in on three sides with rock face. He trained on riding the motocross bike, practicing the jump, learning to parachute from a helicopter and even more than that. He did all of that and did those actions over and over and over again to get everything as right as possible to make an action sequence as believable as possible. Seeing that kind of dedication to honing just one part of his craft made me think about how much we as artists need to make sure that we're doing all that we can to keep ourselves educated, doing research and pouring as much as we can into the work that we do. Being persistent, consistent and risk-taking with your work habits in the studio and digging deep within to make the best work possible will pay off. Show up for yourself!

TM

 

Paintings being free

 (Detail :: work in progress)

    Online recently, I made a post that mentioned a shift that I feel is happening in the work. Yesterday, that feeling became even more clear to me. What's happening is that I need to take a break from making the dense, glyph-filled work that I've been doing for the past few years. The glyphs will still be in the work, but I'm kind of done with the denseness of mark making that's been going on for a while. Two recent paintings that I've worked on sealed that feeling for me. I was having a real struggle to complete them and couldn't figure out why until just this past weekend; I'm just tired of what I've been doing. These paintings feel heavy in a way that bugs me. Everything about the work feels heavy; the surfaces, the compositions even the colors, many of which are repeated in similar ways throughout recent paintings. The paintings are breathing laboriously at this point, wheezing even. It's funny how palpable the feeling of discomfort around this work has been for me lately. It literally weighs on me, almost oppressive to a certain degree. I feel the need to think about why this is a little deeper.

    Even as that revelation has become more clear to me, I've already begun making some paintings that are moving down a separate, but parallel track. I've been making some works on paper centered on these forms that are basically interconnected triangles. It's been something that I've played with off and on over time, but now I'm feeling more comfortable with how I might be able to put them to use. I'm hoping to create some different color and spatial relationships within the work where they behave somewhat similarly to the glyph paintings, but are completely different in execution and how they behave on the canvas or panel supports. 

    I can trace these new works back to some things I've done since 2013, but I haven't been able to figure out what they mean for me, yet. That's probably a good thing because they will define themselves over time. Compared to the various connected influences of the glyph paintings, these new works are very much their own thing. They exist outside of everything that I've been focusing on over the past seven or eight years. They are as alien to me as anything that we may call biological that might exist somewhere else out in space. They have a history for me, but I haven't been able to identify them, yet. They are resisting categorization, which is somewhat frustrating, but also very freeing. They aren't tethered to any kind of ready-made philosophies or uses. They insist on being what they are without outside intrusions of meanings. 

I'm perfectly fine with that. 

TM

In silence

     I like to take a few moments to be silent and express gratitude when  I come into the studio for the day. It really helps to ground me and remind me of all the good things that have come into my life through my actions and otherwise. I had hoped for years to have a larger studio again after having to move from the space at 16 N. 3rd Street back in 2015. I don't like to take things for granted because everything can crumble, turn to dust and disappear in an instant. I worked hard to get here, with help along the way, and I'll never forget that. 

    Since moving here, I've been able to look at my work in a completely different way than I have for the past seven years or so. Just being able to have the room to step back from something and see it in relation to something else that I'm working on a few feet away is truly powerful. I get to walk a few yards away from a painting and can really take my time with letting it live and come into being on it's own terms and not with the crush of all of my other work right on top of it. It's an amazing feeling. 

 TM  

Bringing others in

    Coming off of my birthday weekend, I gave a workshop for teaching artists of Mural Arts Philadelphia this morning. Things seemed to go well since this was the first time I'd led an activity in a workshop like this for peers. The actual first workshop ever was last spring with some of Brad Carney's Mural Arts Education students at George Washington High School in northeast Philly. This workshop was focused on showing the participants how they can use translucent materials like tracing paper or drafting paper to create interesting layering effects in their work. 

    It's very educational when you have to interpret what you do in your studio practice for other people in a situation like this that demands clarity of communication and thought. You have to really look deeply at what you do in the studio and find ways of connecting people with what's mostly in your head otherwise. What seems simple to you can be a complete mystery to others, even artists. We all have our own experiences with making art that are often as completely singular as we are as individuals. That makes sense for obvious reasons, but we don't often think about that because of the myopic lens through which most of us look at the world.

    That's not an indictment, I'm just stating what I see as a part of the human experience. All of us are made up of what ever experiences we have and tend to look at the world in a particular way as a result. Problems occur when we can't make room to appreciate how others might experience things in their way. Being able to empathize is a huge thing and a lot of the bad experiences that we have with people who can't or won't accommodate other world views shows up in horrific ways. Learning to effectively share and communicate your ideas and processes with others is a huge thing and not something to take lightly. It's a key way to better understand what you're doing in your work, bring you closer to other to others and help them understand who you are as a person and artist. 

TM

 

How long...?

Detail of No Way Out (2022)

[The following is copied verbatim from a recent social media post I made last week. I felt like it needed to be enshrined here, too]

Studio 12.01.22 :: I felt a perceptive shift within me regarding aspects of my work now and possibilities moving forward. Yesterday evening felt like a moment where the dust of years of different paths and influences collided and started forming a couple of new ways forward that I feel absolutely compelled to follow. An “oh shit, yes!!” moment that packs a bigger punch than others in the past.

The question of inspiration comes up once in a while and my answer is always some version of “life and doing the work” that I elaborate on. First, no idea comes from a single influence or source; there’s always a constellation of experiences-conversations, random thoughts, dreams, research, whispers, daydreaming, reading, music, doodling, walking down a different street, noticing that tiny crack in your glass-that can lead to where you are now. Everything that you’ve lived through is right in that moment of discovery. Second, I don’t believe in waiting for “inspiration”. That comes from doing the work, whatever that is for you. You don’t get anywhere sitting and making yourself frustrated that inspiration hasn’t swept you off you feet. It won’t, trust me, I know. Doing and actively participating is how discovery happens. Begin where you are with what you have and see where that takes you. Rinse and repeat as needed 

“How long did it take to to do that?” My whole life to this point, literally.

 

CONTENTS/INTRODUCTION/Vegetables

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

Vegetables

    These images came together in a couple of bursts of ideas between Saturday and this morning. Saturday, I was here in the studio and had the urge to return to drawing over book pages, specifically this old House and Gardens New Complete Book of Gardens that was published in 1955. It's a used book that I bought from Mostly Books on Bainbridge Street for $5 years ago. I've been using images and pages from the book to make collages and other things. One project that I like a lot from around 2015 or so is called "Notes". "Notes" consists of several images from this book that I tore and then drew glyphs on. I had them up on my old studio wall for almost seven years when I moved out this past summer. 

    First, I drew on and collaged the pages and photographed them on the floor of the studio, with the book leaned up against the wall and the "Vegetable" page taped to the wall. I didn't want to use push pins in it. That was Saturday. This morning, I woke up too early, as usual and got the idea to incorporate some digital aspects into the photos and that's what you see above. I imported the photos into the PicsArt app to make the additions. 

    Anyway,I've been into drawing over book pages for a while now. In practice, it's been more sporadic than I'd like, but I feel like I'll be doing more with this idea now. I like drawing on these book pages because the printed images give me something to react against with my own mark making. It's another way of imposing one's mark on something that already exists, i.e., graffiti. There's also something about marking up older books like this that are very orderly and represent life from another era. The gardens and layouts presented in this book represent a certain type of suburban ideal that has levels of social complications, to say the least. 

     

    The immaculately manicured gardens and plans seen in this book brings to mind ideas about class and race from the jump. Only a certain class of people could afford many of the extravagant gardens pictured within and you definitely had to be of a certain racial background to be able to have anything like this in the '50s almost anywhere in the U.S. If you were Black and could afford it, most often, you would be pushed to consider something much less nice and in a Black enclave because the subtext is that suburbia was only for whites. I know there might have been exceptions to this, but those exceptions were probably few and far between. When I think of the suburbs, I automatically think "white", even when I know that's not the case in today's world. With the scars of segregation and Jim Crow laws from those times still here, being Black it's hard to look at anything from the '50s and feel good about it. Combine that with how much things haven't changed in our society regarding race and acceptance (witness these past couple of decades and especially the past eight years). 

    With that said, taking my marks and superimposing them over the book images feels good in a lot of ways. I even took a few pages from it to make a loose series of images I dubbed, The Great (Suburban) Outdoors. Being a fan of nature with hiking being one of my favorite activities, the sterility of a lot of suburbs with their subjugation of nature into "manageable" plots of land feels like an affront to nature (and it is) "But people have to live somewhere and not have plants, grass and trees grow wild..." *insert eye roll*

    It's complicated. This is only me getting some things off my chest. However, I like how these digital images came out and I already have more edits in mind. I'll probably make more soon. One thing that I have to balance is making sure that I don't get overwhelmed with the sheer enormity of editing options these days. If I didn't restrict my choices for what parts of the app to use and which to leave alone (for now) is unbelievable. For these, I had a couple of problems to solve. One was making sure that the image fit into the square format for Instagram because one of the original photos was horizontal. The other was using colors with each image that complimented the image in some way and didn't overwhelm the photo. i think this worked out pretty well, although I'm already thinking about how to possibly make this idea better next time. 

TM

What I've learned...so far...

 

In my latest studio newsletter, there's a section called "Exit" where I posted an Esquire Magazine-like series of statements about my experiences of making site-specific temporary installations, like Tumbler, that's now on view in the Speer Gallery at the Shipley School. The magazine section is called, "What I've Learned..." from which I borrowed the format for my version of it. My "What I've Learned..." are reflections on my ongoing project of making temporary installations made up of drawings on large sheets of paper, clear acetate, silver mylar, frosted mylar and, in the past, tracing paper. Tumbler is the third, and largest, iteration of this idea. 

The making of Tumbler was different from the previous two because there were people passing through and present in the space where I was working between classes. I had to be more careful than usual about keeping my materials out of the way of students and staff passing by, as well as being aware of being watched, however briefly, while making the piece. I wasn't particularly worried about that aspect, but it did make me a little anxious at times, as working in a public or semi-public space will do. In the end, I channeled that nervous energy into a laser like focus on the work. I learned some new things and am grateful to have had this experience that I can now take and use for the next one. 

Without any further delay, here's what I've learned about making site-specific works in public/semi-public spaces, so far...

- I always wind up buying more nails than I really need

- Making unplanned work in public forces action

- Fear creates energy to move ahead with the work

- Having people witness your creative process can be affirming

- Having people witness your creative process feels like electrified nakedness

- Using the drawings in different places and ways always seems to open up new possibilities

- I love manipulating (tearing, folding, creasing...) the drawings from one installation to the next and seeing how they change

- When that weird middle section of the install happens and I want to rush to get past it, I let myself feel the angst, and then take extra long, deep breaths and walk away if need be. Same as when I'm in the studio. 

- My palms always get sweaty when it comes to heights, no matter how safe I am

- When people ask questions about what I'm making, it forces me to get better at making good, short answers

- My stomach is in knots the whole time

- Transforming a space through artistic intervention is a great uplifting experience

TM

Easy isn't bad

New painting (detail)

"It’s easy to romanticize struggling, to think that something must be difficult to be of quality" 

"Yes, this is so important! I think a lot of visual artists and other creatives fall into this mind-f&%k where they believe EVERYTHING must be a struggle and the harder it is to make, the better it is, when that is absolutely not always the case. I've had to make room to be ok with making something that was "easy, so I really understand what you're saying. Just because it's not causing you to have a mental breakdown doesn't mean that you shouldn't do it or that it's not good. If it brings you some joy or spark of some kind, then it's good."

• • • • • •

     The above quote and response comes from my reply to a friend's IG post about making things that are "easy" and still of quality. I've had my battles with the way of thinking that can infect creative people across disciplines. The myth that "all great art is the result of struggle" is just that, a myth. A way of thinking that follows from the idea that life is hard and when you struggle to gain status or other social/financial reward, then that reward carries even more merit somehow. With artists, it's perceived that struggles with mental illness or other neural divergent behavior is somehow responsible for their art rather than that person being able to make their in spite of their mental illnesses, not because of them. 

    I've not had any issues with mental illness in my life, thankfully, and that has never been a barrier to making good art. I'm not in the position of determining if any of my work is "great" or not, but I can say that not having a mental illness or addiction problem hasn't stopped me from making what I consider some very strong, worthwhile art work. Now, I do struggle with aspects of my work all of the time, but that doesn't equate to the work being better than something that was "easy". All I'm getting at is that artists need to reject the notion that they have to have a bad life or bad experiences to produce good work. It's complete nonsense. 

    I've struggled with making and/or appreciating work that I considered "easy", where the solution came so easily that I questioned the work's worth. Over time, I've gotten better with this and now find myself embracing a much wider range of thought surrounding what makes my work good or not in my eyes. The easy stuff should be embraced and enjoyed as much as the more difficult work. It's ok to make "easy" work and to enjoy it. There's nothing wrong with liking your easy work. If it brings you joy, why not? Something that you work on for days or months doesn't necessarily mean that it's any better than something that you made in a half-hour. Your worth as an artist isn't tied to how long or how hard something was to bring into existence, your worth as an artist is what you make of it. Nothing else. 

ArtSmack

 

    It was a podcast kind of day in the studio. One of what could be a new favorite art pod is ArtSmack, hosted by Jerry Gagosian and Matt C. In a nutshell, Jerry Gagosian, aka Hilde Lynn Helphenstein, has made a name for herself with satirizing and poking fun at gallerists, institutions, art fairs and more through her meme-filled Instagram page. The ArtSmack podcast is no less entertaining and enlightening. Give it a shot!

(Not Just) Another Day

 

Above: palette (might make for a not-too-bad painting)

    Recently, I ran into a young artist that I know in the stairwell of our studio building. I asked him how things were going in the studio where he works as an assistant and he replied "not bad". Then I asked, "How are you?" and he replied, "Well, you know, just another day..." I was on my way out to grab a couple of snacks from the nearby supermarket and once I was outside and on my way up the block, I thought about what he'd said, "...just another day..." In the past, that phrase might not have bothered me that much, but for some reason it hit different this time. My thought was, no, this is not "just another day" and it kind of saddened me a bit because we seem to be conditioned to view each day as just like any other in our routines. 

    Now, the phrase "just another day" is often used as a metaphor for "nothing special is happening, I'm just going about my regular routine", which is often the case. There's a certain amount of surface sameness in a lot of our everyday lives which makes it feel like one day is just bleeding into another without any kind of distinguishing value. On the other hand, "just another day" can also elicit feelings of heaviness and/or sadness, coded language for "this is just another day of drudgery and misery"

    I feel like this is symptomatic of how work culture in the U.S. tends to drain as much joy out of our daily lives as possible. There is so much outward sameness with our routines around jobs, going about our daily tasks and other things that repeat hour after hour, day after day that it's hard not to think of each day as the same as the last. All of us here need to figure out how to bring money into our lives just to be able to live day-to-day. That often leads us to be employed in jobs that we don't like, that I think most of us would quit if it weren't for whatever our needs are. 

    What I believe I heard in the young artist's "Just another day" was this: "It's just another day of giving my energy to someone else's pursuits, dreams and goals". I know that's how I felt during the years where I worked in retail jobs while also making art and having shows. No matter how much I liked where I was working, and I had a couple of favorite workplaces, there was always that feeling of frustration in the back of my mind about giving over so much of my energy to a job that advanced someone else's goals and not my own. In 2020, I got to walk away from my last regular job to pursue my life as a "full time" painter. I put full time in quotes because no matter where I worked in the past, I always prioritized my art life over the steady job. When you're an artist of any discipline, you're never divorced from what you're creating because it's always on your mind. When I was at work, I'd be going over ideas and possibilities in my head about what I wanted to do the next time I was in the studio. 

    Even though those days weren't strictly the same, the overall feeling was that they were because of the baked-in repetition of tasks. Some days, I'd feel more annoyed than others that I had to be at the job when I sorely wanted to be in the studio working out whatever my latest ideas were on the canvas, paper or panel. At times, it was visceral and others, not so much. I remember saying in response to "how are you?" something along the lines of "Same old, same old" or "Another day, another dollar", etc... just to keep from sounding too negagtive. Now that I get to come to the studio and do what I want to for myself, I've come to better understand how different each day really is. It's all perception; if it feels the same as yesterday, then it's the same to you. The reality is that this day and the next and the next, are entirely new. There's so much that's new that it's easy to take for granted if you aren't tuned into it, or even able to be tuned into it because of whatever else is going on in your life. 

    I think my take on each day being new and treating it as such also has to do with getting older and realizing how much less time is ahead of me than when I was younger. These days, I'm trying to make sure that I acknowledge every day as a new, original, never before seen day. Even as many of my days include some tasks that I don't always feel like doing, it's all for the greater good of advancing my creative priorities. I do my best to not take any day for granted because we aren't promised anything. Just waking up to a new day is a blessing that I embrace with all of my might and am thankful for. I now truly understand what my elders were saying when they said something similar when I was little. I really get it. 

"Evidence" install at The Shipley School

Above: Images of the works in Evidence and Tumbler being installed in the Speer Gallery last week

    

 It's been a week! I spent last Saturday installing nine paintings for my solo show, Evidence, at The Shipley School located in Bryn Mawr, PA. Months ago, I was contacted by Meredith Turner, Co-Chair of the Art Department/Speer Gallery at Shipley about the possibility of showing work there. We exchanged emails, but it took some time for her to get back to me due to a death in her family. Anyway, when we picked up the conversation again later in the summer, I was definitely ready to see what was on the table. I went for a visit between trips abroad, enjoyed meeting Meredith (meeting her again, I should say because we were students in the Department of Art and Art Education at Temple back in the 90's at the same time). 

    She showed me around and explained that her and another teacher there, Carol Royer, were co-chairs in the Art Department and for the gallery. Carol and I once shared a studio space back in the early 2000s in Old City, at 16-A North 3rd Street. Meredith explained that they had just taken over the running of the gallery and were looking to do some new things with it, liked my work and asked if I'd be willing to have a show there. She also mentioned that she was open to different ideas about how to use the gallery space, so I accepted right away. I had an inkling of what I wanted to do, but not a clear picture at that time. It became more fully formed as time passed after that initial meeting. 

    What I came up with was showing a number of recent paintings from 2020-2022 that hadn't been shown,yet, and making another site-specific wall installation. All of this I did last weekend and on Thursday and Friday of last week. The wall piece, like the past ones, is made up of drawings on paper, frosted mylar, silver mylar and clear acetate. The drawings are creased, folded, returned to their original shapes and then installed on the wall with no prior plan as to what will go where. All of that is figured out as I go along. The main part of this one, Tumbler, wound up being circular in form. I added two other parts on opposite walls and connected all three with colored rope extending from various points on the three walls. The gallery space is very vertical, so I wanted to take advantage of the ceiling height to make something that would cause the students and staff who traverse that area to experience that space in a radically different way than they usually do. 

    Like with other pieces like this, I was surprised that I was able to bring it all together over two days. The small amount of planning that went into this went a long way. As I mentioned above, none of how it turned out was planned; I only knew what materials I wanted to use and I wanted to place the various elements of the work. The reaction to it from staff and students has been very positive and I'm looking forward to talking about it more on the 17th, when I'm scheduled to give an artist talk. The reception is on the 18th. I sent out a studio newsletter announcing the show with details that I haven't posted on social media yet. I'm trying to get more subscribers because I'm attempting to give people more value with the newsletter and not post certain things online, or not posting online until much later. We'll see what happens. I don't  blame people for not wanting to sign up for another newsletter because I know we all have overflowing inboxes, but I'm still going to keep trying to expand this aspect of my marketing. It's been slow going in gaining new subscribers and I think I may have to add more incentives in the future, like giveaways of small drawings or something like that. 

TM

Slight Detour

Large drawing, Mon. 10.31.22

    Made three new large drawings yesterday, including the one above. I'm going to use them for the installation for my show at the Shipley School. I installed the paintings this past Saturday and will start work on the drawing installation Thursday. I already cut this one in half in anticipation of using the two parts in different places on the main wall. The ceiling is pretty high in the gallery space at Shipley, so I'm going to take advantage of that height and extend the wall installation to a couple of other spaces high up: one above the doors leading to the library and another one above paintings on the opposite wall from the main installation wall. I'm also planning on using some colorful rope that I bought the other day to visually connect the three areas. I'm really excited about this and can't wait to get started on Thursday. 

    For a while now, I've had this itch to experiment again with this geometric iconography in my work. It's origins go back to a 2013 painting titled, Everything Happens at Once, a black and white diptych that I showed at the Bridgette Mayer Gallery in my show Presence in 2013. In that work, the surface was covered with the same triangular forms abutting each other but in a more compact configuration across two panels. In 2020, I returned to this idea in a few small, 11" x 14" panels I titled Shapeshifter. Those paintings had between two and three of these forms layered on top of one another, with different colors. Here, I'm attempting to keep it at one form over a background. I'll also probably make some with at least two forms above or next to each other, but not layered in my usual way. 

    It's kind of hard leaving just the one form on the page because my tendency is to create very dense compositions these days. I feel like scale is going to be really important for this work in order for it to have the impact it needs. Additionally, I feel that brushwork, different types of surface textures and color tension are going to be the things that will make this work at a larger scale since the plan is to let the forms live on one layer. I made a few drawings tonight and I'm letting those settle a bit before making the commitment to larger works. 

TM

A slight retreat

 

It's been an interesting couple of days as I've managed to catch a head cold. Tested for Covid and it's not that, so that's a good thing. I also don't feel like I did when I had Covid earlier this year, also a good thing. Mostly congested, but not any other heavy symptoms. I went to the studio yesterday and today. I felt good enough to dabble on one of the new paintings I've been working on. Going in, I didn't want to really do much of anything considering how out of it I felt due to the lingering effects of a decongestant that I took last night. Felt a bit drowsy most of the day, but not bad enough to stay home. 

Anyway,  I wound up working on a painting that I mentioned the other day as one that has been a bit of a headache. I finally just painted out what I'd done and started again. This time, with a couple of  layers of big glyphs, one blue the other yellowish, then collaged some old stenciled images onto it that's on thin drafting paper. Love that stuff for adding layers of marks because like tracing paper, it's translucent. After, I added a couple of grids of light green glyphs. So far, it's ok. I'm trying to not be too judgemental about this painting-in-progress, but I'm also feeling like it needs to be moved to another, more interesting place form and color-wise. I have to wait until I get back into the studio tomorrow (hopefully) and see it with fresh eyes in order to plot next moves. 

I'm taking the day off from the studio today. I wish I'd have done so yesterday and took better care of myself. I had to cancel a meeting that was supposed to happen this morning after a night of not sleeping well and being just as congested as yesterday. I'm not sure what I'm going to do here at home today, but a couple of things have come to mind. It might be the day to go through my stuff that's sitting in the basement and see if there's anything I can get rid of or at least consolidate some of the stuff in boxes. 

TM

It's complicated

Afternoon sun gliding over works in progress

Because I approach most of my paintings without much of a predetermined path, there can be a tendency to over complicate things. This situation is made worse when it feels like almost nothing is working within a painting; not the color, not the forms, not the composition, and on and on. That's where I was yesterday with one piece that I've been wrestling with for a while now. The colors, in particular, felt really off. Too much white mixed in, everything felt too pastel-like. I'd also covered most of a background color combo that I liked a lot. That part was made with spray paint, as well, so it set itself apart from my other marks, which I also liked. 

None of this is uncommon for me to think about considering some of my painting habits. Most of the time, I'm able to shrug it off, but once in a while things get too messy and out of control. The over complication of ideas and, really, the proliferation of ideas that I have can serve to derail any painting I make. I was in bed thinking about this last night and the only thing that kept coming up was "simplify". I often step away from what feels "simple" because in my mind a lot of the times, "simple" is equated to "too easily figured out". That's not the reality, but rather the story I've concocted in my head about my work. As soon as I acknowledged those thoughts, an image came to me of how I could possibly move forward with this painting. I'll find out today if I'm on the right track.

TM

Still going...

    Even though I haven't been posting here, things are happening. The last time I wrote, I was still on vacation, I think, ruminating about not having posted online in a bit. Since we've been back from Sardinia and Barcelona, I've resumed posting on IG, FB, LI and the bird app. Not in quite the same way as previously, but I'm definitely back on there more, something that I'm trying to balance a little more. I don't feel the way I did before the social media break, a good thing, I'd say. It's kind of funny, but I've embraced the making of reels and posting on Tik Tok. My feelings about reels before the break was that they really got in the way of how I make art, but thinking about it a little more and having made a few shorts, I'm a bit less high-minded about them and have been able to find my own way of dealing with them. 

    The I take a low effort approach to making reels, which isn't hard to do since the apps have everything you need, like music, effects, and all sorts of editing tools. I just make sure that I'm not doing anything to disrupt my studio flow. I already document my studio practice and other aspects of my life, so adopting to them hasn't been that hard. I'm not that interested in making a lot of "how-to" vids with voice-overs, but I will do a time-lapse that shows me making part of a drawing or painting, then switch to a view of the finished or near finished piece. I'm also just into making experimental shorts with whatever platform tools there are. 

    Painting has been going fairly well. I'm just a little annoyed with a couple of things that I've been doing, but I'm trying to gain an understanding of some of my habits, as well as take time to think through my frustrations. It's important to be as open and present as possible so that I allow for opportunities for solutions to come forth and I can accept them. 

TM

Changing lanes

New work-in-progress (detail)

     I've been on a social media hiatus for almost three weeks and counting. I'm not even sure if I mentioned it in this blog, but earlier this summer, my main Instagram account was hacked and I had to start over with a new one. I was pretty pissed about losing access to the old account since I'd put a lot of time into building up an audience, plus I there's a ton of specific posts, photos and things in the old story feed  that were specific to that account. Most of the photos I have but all of the archived stories and so forth are still on there. I've been unsuccessful in regaining that account and at this point, I've pushed it back on my priorities list. 

    Honestly, by the time the hack happened, I was already growing tired of how I was feeling about my time on social media and how I engaged with it. The continual manipulation by the platform admins and whomever else is responsible for the algorithms was becoming annoying. The overall strategy of all social media platforms is to maintain your attention on that platform, which means introducing and manipulating features to keep you in the content loop as much as possible, both taking in others' content and making your own. I remember seeing a note from Facebook on my feed saying that (I'm paraphrasing here) "People trust you more when you respond to a direct message within a short time" Maybe that was referring to brands, but still, it manages to feel like you're being mentally pressured to do more and more while receiving less and less value from these sites.

    There's a lot of value to be gained from social media, especially for visual artists and other creatives. I like sharing thoughts and photos online and have done so in a variety of ways on as many platforms. I've made a lot of great contacts and have managed to get a fairly solid following, not counting the bots. However, it's really important to take some time to evaluate how we engage online. Lately, I've had several questions come up for myself that I'm evaluating in an attempt to figure out what role social media plays in my life right now:

- How do I feel about social media now? What do I feel when I'm engaging with various types of content?

- What do I get out of it for the time spent engaging with platforms?

- What are my goals are with it? What can social media help me with in this moment as an artist?

- How much time do I need to put in with commenting, liking  and otherwise engaging with others' posts?

- How is social media affecting my behavior?

    I'm sure there's more, but these are the main things that have come up for me in the past couple of weeks of not being that active on social media. I've been thinking about these things in an effort to reimagine what I do online. Top on my list is reinvigorating this blog and making good use of my studio newsletter. 

    

    With my "summer social break" that I've extended into September, I've reduced my engagement to just checking in on my FB and IG feeds once or twice a day, usually in the morning and evening. I've not posted on my main feeds nor story feeds. I've been tempted to a couple of times, but so far, I've been good about that. I'll make a post about a dear friend who passed away last week, but that's the extent of my posting anything until mid-September, maybe longer. 

    

     I don't really know how this experiment will affect how much other accounts engage with mine. I may lose some followers over this period and may gain others, I don't really know. What I do know is that I have to do something different. My very non-scientific research shows that people don't really engage with older posts much unless they are just discovering your feed and "like" and comment on a bunch of older posts. Other than that, the algorithm only shows the newer things. So, what you thought was a great post never gets much more notice beyond the initial impressions. Just after mentioning that I was taking a break, there were a few new follows over a period of a week later. Since then, as expected, it's been a ghost town and understandably so. Even when I find new-to-me accounts that I like, I mostly look at older posts and leave likes and comments on newer ones. 

    Over the past couple of weeks, I've found that my mental state of mind has improved. I concentrate much better on my work in the studio and I'm not so tired from the eyestrain of looking at my phone screen so much (I still need a couch in the studio for naps, but that's another story). Experiencing the difference in my ability to concentrate has been amazing. I feel like I've been able to return to a state of clarity that I had years ago that slowly eroded a little, I think. 

    Purposefully shifting my social media habits has been really enlightening and I'm sure there's more to gain from this change as time goes on. I'm still planning on being active online, but just in different ways. As I mentioned above, posting more on this blog has already made me feel better. I enjoy writing longer entries without the noise of social media around. It might not be for everyone, but I'm hoping that people start coming here to check out what I've been putting out over the years. 

    I'm also planning on integrating more of my general interests here, as well-it's not always about art or the making of it that matters. Lots of other things figure into what I do in the studio and I mean to include more of that here. I'm kind of tired of compartmentalizing everything at this point. Like I said to someone recently, life is art and art is life. What I mean is that life is created as we move through our experiences and like most of art, there is no playbook. All of this is made up as we live it. With art, we're constantly making new worlds and universes as we create paintings, dances that change how we experience space and movement, stories and books that transform our mental landscape.  In life, a lot of us are constantly creating and remaking ourselves and our environments to accommodate new information that we take in; taking a new walking route, changing a decision and going to another place instead of the original one and so forth. It's all an act of making, of charting new paths whether we recognize it or not. 

    TM

    

Just like that...

Studio view: 8.16.22

    Feeling a little off at the moment. A friend passed away suddenly earlier this week, heart attack, Sunday night/Monday morning. No details on exactly what happened. It's another of those things that reminds you of where you are in life and of your own mortality. None of us makes it out of here alive, an old joke that's crushingly true and takes on new meaning as you and those around you get older. In my life, I've only lost one other close friend almost ten years ago. It's such a strange feeling, the sudden loss of a presence, a laugh, a life full of stories and experiences. Just snapped out of existence. Death is a complicated thing to wrestle with for the living. There is no getting used to it. 

    

    I've been making small moves on the two paintings on the left side of the wall today. It's nice having enough space to get some distance from the work. I didn't have that at all in the old apartment studio and it makes a huge difference. I've had this kind of space before, but it's been so long since then, that it feels like a novelty. Earlier, I had to spend time on my laptop. I looked up every now and then and ran through possibilities for finishing them in my head. Once I finished up my committee obligations, I'd run through enough ideas to settle on at least a couple of approaches and got to work. I'm pretty sure I'm done with the outside two, but the middle one is still giving me problems. It would be nice to come to some resolution with it before we leave next week. Not going to rush anything. 

    

    Nice to not have to use the a/c in here today.

TM

I do no art (on vacation, that is...)

View from top level of our vacation rental

    When I was younger, one of the things that I thought I'd be doing whenever I went on vacation was making drawings or some other kind of art. It was what I noticed that a lot of artists did in the past, as well as some of my peers. I fantasized about going to different cities or other places across the world and would never be without a sketchbook and drawing tool. That idea started when I was just beginning to think that I wanted to be an artist in high school. I was also very much interested in landscape and still life painting at that time and thought artists always painted and drew various things when they traveled. Many did and still do. 

    I didn't really start traveling until I was much older, in my mid-late 30s, believe it or not. By then, my artistic interests had changed dramatically. By that time, I was well into my abstract work and still keeping sketchbooks. I still have all of them, thankfully. It's always interesting to crack open an old one to see what was on my mind and what I was making then. 

    Fast forward to 2018. Julia's family made plans for a reunion of sorts in Spain, where most of her father's family lives. I took a pile of small square paper and a few drawing implements with me. It wasn't until well into that vacation that I found myself sitting down to draw anything. I made a few loose abstract drawings, but that was it. Maybe five or six.They didn't lead to anything, but are interesting drawings. On the next couple of trips, I didn't do much art making. I did a couple of things when we were in Guadeloupe, but the rest of the time, I took photos. I don't recall making any drawings in Costa Rica the next year (2019). 

    This year, Julia and I went to Holbox (Hol-bosh), a barrier island a couple of hours away from Cancun. It lasted a week and while I took a bunch of pencils, markers and drawing paper with me, I didn't touch any of it. I had plenty of time to lay around doing nothing and that's what I did. I took full advantage of not having to do anything in particular, but have a good time being away from my responsibilities for a bit. That included making art. Even as I was packing and thinking about what to take with me, I questioned even taking anything. However, the "what if?" side of my brain took control and almost one quarter of my suitcase was drawing materials. 

    We got there and I wasn't in the least bit interested in trying to make anything at all. I realized that I even needed a break from art-making, as well as everything else. I didn't feel guilty about it at all. That was just the way it was. I didn't feel compelled to make art there. Taking photos, yes, but not sitting down and drawing anything. Once I'd made it ok with myself to not make any drawings, I felt free. I didn't feel obligated to make something "just because that's what you do as an artist". For some, sure, it might be absolutely necessary to make something even while on vacation. Me? I'm realizing that when I go away, it's fine that I don't make anything. If I were away at a residency, well, that's a different story. Even though, with most residencies, you don't *have* to make anything or anything in your normal manner. 

    I'm realizing that I like taking in information, thinking about it, storing it away in my mind and taking photos that I can reference later, if I need to. I was much more interested in absorbing the atmosphere of the place and not needing to record anything artistically. There really wasn't a need. My work doesn't rely on me recording the world around me, as with landscape or figuratively based artists. Creative people need breaks from being creative people for a while. Taking time off from doing and allowing new experiences to make themselves known to you, being present with your surroundings can do wonders for your creative energy. I know that I was affected positively when I returned last week. Not only did I not make any art while away, I took time off from social media, as well. That last part has been very refreshing, so refreshing that I've extended my social media break until mid-September, once we're back from Sardinia, Italy. 

   I was talking to Rebecca Rutstein about the topic of not making art while on vacation and she felt the same way! It was really good to get that validation of my feelings towards vacation art-making. I mean, if you feel the need to make work every waking moment of your life, even while on vacation, by all means do it! We all operated differently and I'm just confirming what I've been feeling for a while now. I'm toying with the idea of not bringing anything art-related to Sardinia. It's going to be a longer trip than when we were in Holbox, but still, I'm feeling like it won't be that difficult. I'll most likely take ton of photos, but that'll be it. I'm thinking that I may take a blank journal with me to Sardinia and use it to record thoughts about the trip there. Maybe throw in a sketch or two. Only take a few small markers and pencils. I even have a roll up carrier full of pencils and small markers all ready to go. So, if nothing else, I'll have fewer art materials, but  plenty more room for clothes.

             TM 

Money flying away

 Nothing like coming into the studio to discover that I'd left the ceiling fan on overnight, as if I have money like that 😑 At least it wasn't the a/c unit, THAT would have been a nightmare. I've only gotten one utility bill since I moved in,  and it was within my expectations, cost-wise. It's been really hot this past month and I held out as long as I could, but had to finally give in and turn on the air. Being able to work and think clearly when I'm here outweighs thoughts about the bill costs, haha! Still not looking forward to that next bill. 

A world unto itself

     There was a point today when I realized that I only left the actual space of the studio to go down the hall and use the restroom a couple of times. Stepping out into the hallway always feels like I'm going into another world. I'm so comfortable in this space and getting into a work groove that it feels like it's own world. I think the last time I felt this way was when I had the studio in Old City, which had a similar vibe to this one. Now that i've been making some work these past couple of weeks, the space feels more like my own world and even more so every day. 

   So far, I've finished one painting (a part of that can be seen in the photo above) and close to finishing a couple of other ones. There's a 48" x 36" painting on canvas that's tacked to the wall that I'd like to stretch soon. I thought that I already had an old set of stretchers ready to go, but the measurement is completely wrong, with one side being 54" long. So, now I have to buy a set of stretchers for it. Not the worse thing, but I thought I was saving myself some money. This is why it's important to make sure to have the correct measurements of anything. I assumed that I had the right sized stretcher frame already, but nope. I'm at a point of moving to finishing touches and adjustments and would like to do that with it stretched. 

    I have a ton of works on paper and I keep making more, just like everything else. I made a bunch of acrylic marker drawings on translucent drafting paper in preparation for using them as layers in new collage/drawings that I want to make. I really like layering the collage elements and drawing/painting in between layers. It works really well on panels because of the flat, rigid surface, but I also like working with it on paper. The only issue with the paper support is that it will curl and warp. I don't really mind that so much, since I can iron the paper once it's had a chance to dry. I also like the imperfections that come along with the paper curling. I'm after a feeling of the work having had a life already, anyway. I'm not precious with any of my surfaces. I want them to feel alive and breathing, not sterile. 

TM