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