Social media slippage

    I've been having a tug-of-war regarding social media and how to deal with it lately. As per usual when we travel for vacation, I limit my social media activity and stay off of the phone as much as possible. I love just being in the moment and enjoying whatever I'm doing and wherever I am without thinking about posting something. I got over that habit a while ago. Every now and then I have to remind myself  of this when I'm in my everyday life, for example, when I go to gallery or museum exhibitions. "There are no photos that I can take that will be nearly as good as the ones that the gallery or institution will have", is what I say to myself. I'll still take a few photos, but only after having looked at and experienced the work without the mediation of the phone camera. 

    On the latest trip to Mexico, one of my goals was to read much more and I did. I actually finished one book (Kindred, by Octavia E. Butler) and read through 3/4 of the other one (Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson) before returning home. I took plenty of photos, but didn't post any of them, and still haven't. I would check in on my social channels periodically,usually in the morning for a few minutes, mostly IG and Threads, Zuckerberg's new alternative to what used to be Twitter (now "X"). I didn't look at Facebook and LinkedIn at all. 

    In general, I've been feeling burnt out on social media as an artist because the algorithms are stacked against the user, unless you pay to promote your posts. As I've said elsewhere, most social media is run by capitalists whose only goal is the accumulation of wealth and monetization of everyone who uses the platforms. In order to maintain cash flow and keep users roped in, the algorithms continuously change and we are told that we have to basically be online 24/7 engaging with the platform. Like casinos, social media is structured so that the house always wins. 

    I don't know if there's a way around that and quite frankly, I'm done with trying to figure any of it out. I mainly use social media in an attempt to broaden the range of people who are aware of my work. I have come to find, and I think many of us who pay attention to how platforms work, that most of the people I connect to online are other artists and to a lesser extent, curators and some galleries. I've come to find that online activity for artists (posting work images, making reels of your practice and shows, etc...) only goes so far mainly because of the fleeting nature of people scrolling and how your posts are pushed out (or not) by the algorithms. When I post on my IG story feed, I can guess almost all of the people who have seen it before I look at the activity list under that post and it's pretty consistently the same and barely 2-3% of the accounts that follow me and that I engage with. There is no longer any kind of "organic" reach-we're siloed in. It takes a lot to produce posts and other content for social media and the return is next to nothing. We're giving Meta free labor AND content. 

    We're roped in by the POTENTIAL of gaining followers, getting shows and more through social media, but the reality is that real life interactions run the show-social media is only a tool and a good tool, if you are at least somewhat intentional about your engagement with it. I like to share all sorts of things, but mainly keep it to art-related things with the occasional dash of cats and other regular life moments here and there. After experiencing my IG being hacked last year and the building burnout I'm feeling from it, I'm on another wave of reevaluating my use of socials. For all of August, I've been trying to keep my engagement to a minimum in an effort to retool my usage and specifically how much I use it as a distraction. Over the past month, I've only posted on my story feed and mainly reposted memes and other things from different accounts. Since I read so much on my vacation, I've been making sure that I spend more time reading than scrolling on my phone. I still look at my feeds during the day, but much less than I was before going away. 

    I've been sharing a bit on Threads, but in a different way than on IG. Since Threads is supposed to be more like the app formerly known as Twitter, I take a more relaxed and open approach to posting there. Engagement so far seems a little more organic. When people I follow reply to something, that post will get pushed to me and I have a chance to follow a new account, if it seems interesting to me. I like this approach and right now, there's no ads (I'm sure they're coming) and minimal functionality, but it feels less cumbersome and over the top than other platforms. There's more to come about my evolving relationship with social media, but more later. 

TM

    

   

 

Out of a hole

Works in progress 8.18.23

    

    I got around to making some base layers on some new 9" x 12" panels that I purchased recently. These are going to be more pieces that will be included in my "Soft Poems" series that I've been developing. Most feature some iteration of the glyphs, along with other marks, amid translucent layers of matte gel. I'm hoping to make a lot of these and have at least twenty available to show at my next solo exhibition. 

    I wasn't going to come to the studio today. This morning, I was feeling the weight of this week in a real way. It was mostly thinking about mistakes I've made around the business side of my art practice and some things around my work itself, especially some of the newer things that I'm exploring. It's always like this when I'm working in an unfamiliar creative space that I'm also attempting to develop into something more than experiments. The mistakes I referred to was me trying to figure out what to do about the internal dialogue I was allowing to go around in my head. The good thing is that I'm at a point in my life where I'm not comparing what's happening now with how I dealt with similar things years ago. I'm not wallowing in a negativity loop like I used to do in my 20s. I've made great strides with being kinder with myself and better about moving towards solutions. 

    Regardless, as a human being, you'll feel things. It's better to give that stuff a little space and move on, rather than remaining stuck there and not making room for taking steps to remedy whatever bad choices were made in the past. It's hard, sometimes and I have to be intentional about moving myself out of a down space to a less down space in my mind. The "less-down" thing for me to do was to come to the studio, even if it was much later than I would have liked and I wasn't going to have the usual time to be here. I made it work and moved these new pieces forward. The next time i come in, I'll be able to do so much more, now. Making the choice to come here regardless of how I was feeling was the win.

TM

  

 

Slow

Studio view :: 8.16.23

    Slowness has been on my mind a little lately. Specifically, slowness in the studio, in my painting. Over the past 6-8 months, I've been slowly bringing a new body of work into existence that's moving me into another realm of thought and being in my art making. The nature of the new work has caused a shift within that's manifesting in the work and while quite different from how I've approached my painting, it's a welcome difference.         

    The difference is of slowness in the making of these new paintings. My general modus operandi in making new work is to remain open and push my boundaries as far as I can within a painting, drawing or other work. That means bringing together painting, collage, drawing and whatever else I can think of into the work and working fairly quickly to make these ideas gel visually. There's a sense of urgency, a need to get it out and resolved sooner than later. Over the course of making the pieces, I gradually slow down and take more time with creative choices. 

    With some of my newer work, taking my time is ingrained in the process from the start. I'm moving with a directed kind of intention that's different from how I've worked for years. There's still the push/pull of formal elements and still plenty of surprises along the way, but I feel like I'm taking the scenic route instead of the expressway. I'm finding that in taking more time for the act of painting I'm feeling less anxious about the work and process. I love my fast-paced, loose way of making work, but sometimes it gets to be too much with having my energy on 10 + so much. So, for the time being, I'm breathing deeper, painting slower and enjoying this new process. 

    Most of all, I'm realizing that it's ok to take my time now. In years past, when I worked at a day job, I was forced to make the most of any time that wasn't spent working. It meant that sometimes, I only had maybe an hour and-a-half to paint so I often worked as fast as I could. I got good at it and had quite a few successful paintings and other things come out of those years. Since 2020, I've had the fortune of not working somewhere and I'm just now beginning to see an alternative to the sometimes frantic way I was in the studio before. All things come in their time. 

TM

    

Enter the void(s)

     Going into the void(s). I'm about to break out the old goth clothes, paint the walls black and throw on some Bauhaus for good measure, haha! Ok, so the most I'll probably do is listen to some Bauhaus since it's been a moment. These are actually just the starting point for new paintings. The reason I'm giving this any special attention is that I almost NEVER start a painting with a dark background; I've insisted on beginning almost every work with a white or light background. It's mostly out of habit, really. I generally like lighter backgrounds because of how they can affect the subsequent layers. I start off thinking about light and transparency in the colors, however, considering that there is an overall opaqueness by the time I'm done, it almost never makes that much of a difference. 

    Dark backgrounds like these are going to definitely change how I think about and use color in these paintings. I'm excited to see how I navigate my color choices, range of hue, transparency/opaqueness and compositional choices along the way. I'll let you know how it turns out once I've gone through the process a bit. Should be fun. 

    

    On another note, I was saddened to hear of the passing of painter Brice Marden last week. Marden's work was a big influence for me early on as a student. His early work contributed to my understanding of how subtle color can be used in a minimalist way to make a big impact on the senses. Marden's sensitivity to color and how he used it at scale really drew me in. The lyricism of his subsequent works continued to draw me in over the years. He was a true contemporary master and leaves an amazing body of work. 

TM

Too much? Not enough?

Detail: recent painting in progress

    There's this intrusive thought that pops up in my head every now and then and it's pretty ridiculous: "Am I making too much art?" I think that it's a ridiculous notion because what does it matter? It's almost like thinking, "Am I breathing too much?" It only comes up when I look at the artwork in my storage racks in the studio. When I moved into the space I had a painting rack made and installed. Completely filled it up as soon as I moved in. I'd done a cull before the move, as well, to get rid of work that didn't need to be around any more. Sometimes, I walk into the studio, see that full rack and knowing that I'm going to keep making more art that may or may not sell, wonder if I'm doing too much. It doesn't matter if it sells or not, that's not my focus. Of course, I like it when work sells because I get to continue paying my bills and debts and putting money back into the studio work by buying the materials I need, amongst other things. However, the thought of having made too much work pops up again. 

    Two things cause that thought to go away almost instantaneously: I have a lot of work that I need to make and too many ideas to explore. The urge to make work is irresistable. I have to do it in some way. I can take time away from directly making things, but the work continues in my head. Another thing popped up for me today when I saw an IG post by Gary Vee. The post is a video with a younger GV in a car when he is asked by a passing fan, "What are three words of motivation when I'm feeling down?" Gary Vee answers, "You're gonna die". The woman looks at him incredulously, but he just repeats himself and says "That's inspiration, do something about it". [see the post here].

    It doesn't take much for me to be motivated as an artist. I'm almost always motivated, thankfully. Hearing those three words in the context of being an artist hits a little differently. The reaction I had was along the lines of, "As long as I can get out of bed, I'm going to continue making art". That's it. I'm not going to let my sometimes overthinking brain con me into considering that I'm making too much art. One day, life will stop, so while I can, I'd better make the most of every day. If the ideas are still hitting and I can find ways to bring them into being, then I'm going to continue painting until I absolutely can't any longer. 

TM

 

Music in the air

Works in progress, studio, 8.11.23

    Had a most productive day in the studio yesterday, partially finishing up with prepping several new canvases and working on three new small works on panels and canvas. Before I started, I was easing into the session, trying to figure out what I wanted to listen to and whether I wanted to listen to anything at all. I was noodling around on YouTube, seeing what I may have missed while I was away recently. After refreshing my home page a couple of times, I saw a video for the latest song from Fever Ray (Karin Dreijer), a musician that I became aware of back in 2009 or so. I remember at that time seeing a video of her's for a song called When I Grow Up, and really responded to the music, vocals and the aesthetics of the video. I didn't keep up with Fever Ray much past that, but was curious to see where they were now creatively. The new song, "North", is every bit as haunting and beautiful as I remember of her earlier work. 

    Well, I went down a rabbit hole and watched a few other videos from FR before discovering The Knife, a band that she had with brother, Olof. I don't know how to describe the music of The Knife, but I can say that it's highly addictive and energetic, based on this concert video that helped amp up my own energy in the studio yesterday: The Knife-Live at Terminal 5 (2014). Check it out, I hope it gives you the boost that it gave me!

    Another band that got me through the day was Young Fathers, a band out of Scotland that I found out about sometime last year. YF is another band that's unique in their approach to musicianship, blending aspects of hip hop, rock, afrobeat and more. To a certain extent, they remind me of TV On The Radio. Check out the concert video here: Young Fathers live at Best Kept Secret 2023. Lastly, again going down another rabbit hole, I found Son Lux, a new-to-me band that caught my attention after listening to the former couple of concerts. Son Lux, not sure how to position their sound, but watch them here and see for yourself: Son Lux live at AB-Acienne Belgique. 

    Watching and listening to these concert videos definitely raised the energy in the studio around the rather mundane task of painting the edges of five newly stretched canvases, waiting for them to dry and working on other pieces in between. Working on the other pieces wasn't mundane, but you get the point. It would be great to hear what you think about any of these videos or better yet, what gets you through some of the routine things that have to be done in the studio (organizing, preparing surfaces, etc...). Let me know in the comments below!

TM 

 

New wanderings (isn't this a given, now?)

Two new works on paper, 38" x 50" each

    I finished these two new works on paper a couple of days ago. They're an effort at seeing how some of my newish ideas might work out on a larger scale as paintings. I'm feeling confident about how some of this is turning out. If these were already paintings, I would have made them denser with imagery and pushed some of the formal relationships further. There would be more layers, for sure. As they stand, I'm feeling good about the way things seem to be developing. I particularly like how the one with the overlapping blue fields turned out. I won't be able to reproduce it as a painting, but I'm hoping to retain some aspect of the warm colors filtering through the cooler colors on top, if I choose to make a painting out of this idea. I feel like I'm getting closer to a name for these hard-edged, yet flexible forms I'm using. I'm also doing some related research that I hope will help my tie together some conceptual ideas running around in my head. I'm heading towards a need to revamp my general artist statement and am trying to get enough information to formulate a more solid basis for this new direction. 

    Today started off with an early (for me) morning with jury duty. Of course I had too little sleep last night and have been a walking cloud of drowsiness all day. Anyway, I got to City Hall, went through the jury panel selection part, made it to a court room and was dismissed, thankfully. My jury summons had me reporting to City Hall instead of the Criminal Justice Building which almost always means that you're going to sit on a civil case, if chosen. I got lucky and had a high juror number, so the judge and lawyers in the case found their jurors well before my number would have been called. 

    So, I have my jury duty work "excuse" sheet. Since I work for myself, to whom do yell at for missing work time, even though I have a valid excuse? ;)

    Afterwards, I stopped by Artist & Craftsman Supply to pick up some canvas, gesso and a pack of six 9" x 12 panels. I'm in the middle of working on several small paintings begun earlier this week, but I'm thinking that this afternoon and evening will be a good time to stretch at least a couple of new larger canvases. 

TM

 

Vacation sketchbook

New sketches and other things seen while away recently

    Been back from a great ten day away from the everyday for a couple of days now. We returned to Holbox, Mexico for a second go-round. The ten day mark seems to be a good enough time to release the stress and pressures of everyday life and not feel like you still need more time. At least that's how it worked for me. Holbox is a barrier island on the Yucatán peninsula about 2 hours away from Cancún. No resorts, but small hotels, good food and lots of water to cool off in. Ten days of doing next to nothing but napping, reading, haivng a drink, swimming and doing more nothing is a great refresher. 

    Since I've noticed that I don't really do much in the way of art while away on vacation, I limited the amount of art materials to some colored pencils, graphite pencils and a sketchbook. No need to add unnecessary weight to my luggage with stuff I won't use. I let a couple of days go by before I felt like doing anything artistic, but once I started, it continued for a few days. My routine was to do some drawing before or after breakfast. That seemed to be the best time for me to get something done since the rest of the time I was in the water, napping, eating or reading. 

    I've been working on some new ideas for paintings for a few months now and that proved to be great fodder for continued low risk exploration in terms of materials and time. I took these mornings to think more deeply about what I wanted to do and how I might want to pursue this work. Just having the time to think without daily distractions was almost enough for me. The cell phone service was minimal on Holbox, so that automatically took away wasted time. I also made it a point to not be online as much as possible, which turned out pretty well. Anyway, the ability to just think and let my thoughts wander was a blessing. I've returned with a much more clear idea of what I'm attempting to bring into being now. There's considerable more work to do before I'll feel comfortable with what's to come, but there's so much room to just play with the ideas now having had this free time away from the regular routines. 

    We returned Thursday evening and yesterday, I spent some time in the afternoon at the studio working on a couple of 50" x 38" works on paper; one vertical, one horizontal. I'm trying to get a feel for how each of these configurations might work once I get to larger canvases and panels. There are going to have to be a bunch of adjustments because of the differences in supports and materials; colored pencil to paint, paper to canvas and wood. 

TM

    

     

Piles

 

Pile I, 2023, colored pencil on paper, 22" x 30"

Pile II, 2023, colored pencil on paper, 22" x 30"

    Summer's here and Philly's been a humid swamp this week. Thankfully, I have A/C in the studio and don't have to sweat it out. I've paid my dues over the years and am going to enjoy having air for as long as I can. 

    There are a bunch of works in progress in the studio, as always. In between working on some smaller paintings, I also made these two drawings that are part of a new series I'm calling 'Pile'. This idea literally just came to me one day this week as I was working on a painting that has an element of these interlocking triangles within a square of translucent red, seemingly hovering above and partially obscuring a layer of glyphs. My thought was, what would happen if I made a drawing of a bunch of these that filled a page? My only "rule" for these was that I wasn't going to start at any of the edges. Instead, I started with a singular form, within the page, just off center and built the rest of the composition around it. I wanted each form to be a different color as well. 

    So far, so good. The drawings are a nice change from the paintings in that they are pretty void of any considerations other than what color the next form will be and where to start drawing it. The act of drawing these is pretty relaxing, but also interesting in how the piece begins to take shape within the picture plane. That's the other "rule"; that the forms are to inhabit the boundaries of the paper and not seem to extend beyond it. 

    Within each of these drawings, there is an uncomfortable tension between the forms  because they feel like they don't appear to inhabit these spaces with any comfort; they seem to teeter on the edge of falling over. They also don't fit together comfortably. These would make near impossible puzzles. I'd like to make a bunch more piles and have some ideas for future drawings and maybe paintings.The work is changing in another big way and I hope that I can continue to explore this avenue into painting.

TM

Need any help?

     This afternoon, I was walking back to the studio from grabbing a couple of snacks. The side of the street I was on has a huge lot of newly built homes set way back from the street. Closer to the street, the lot is mostly rubble and could be another section of the development waiting to happen. Towards the northern end of the lot, there was a guy dumpster diving, pulling stuff out of the construction dumpster and loading up his pick-up truck. He saw me as I was about to pass and, out of the blue, said that he’d just pulled a chunk of an I-beam out from the bottom of the container. I looked over and could see it resting on the far top corner of the dumpster. He was carrying a long pipe in one hand and something else in the other as he worked his way through the fence opening.

    I asked if he needed help and he said, “Nah, I’m alright, did three tours in Iraq”.  I started walking away and said back to him, “That’s great, but it doesn’t mean you won’t need help” and thanked him for his service. My ‘help’ comment was meant to hopefully spark the thought in his mind that accepting help was ok. This was a little presumptuous on my part, I'm aware of that, but his retort about his tours of duty in Iraq brought to mind all of the times I’ve heard men say something similar before going on to  struggle with whatever task was at hand. There are so many reasons why people might reject help, and to each their own. I was just struck by this man's Iraq comment because I've heard that sentiment many times over the years. 

    His comment seemed to be another perfect example of how men appear to be hard-wired to not accept help. A lot of this may be centered in pride and ego, wanting to project strength and individualism. Now, he may or may not have had a problem getting that piece of I-beam to his truck, but his comment about Iraq appeared to me to be a kind of defense mechanism. I’ve heard guys say things like this all of my life. Even going back to childhood, there was always a man around, perhaps struggling to carry something or do some difficult task who turns down help by saying something about some past or present personal achievement of strength or endurance, usually followed by, “If I could handle that, I can do this (alone), too”. My dad was the same way, even as he was breathless and struggling to finish up whatever he was working on. And that’s great! If you can still call on your reserves of individual strength, that’s fine. Although, to me, this mindset  seems like a self-imposed barrier to appearing to be vulnerable and needing help which translates to “weak” for so many men. 

I’m no stranger to this way of thinking. As an only child, I always felt that I had to do for myself before getting anyone else involved. Not in the sense of being afraid of needing help, but because of my upbringing with alcoholic parents. I often felt the need to take care of a lot of things alone, not having the security of knowing that there was someone there to help me in whatever way(s) I needed. This has affected how I process situations where I might need assistance as an adult. Many times, I don’t even know the right questions to ask and have to sit with that discomfort and figure out exactly what it is that I’m after by asking for help. I’m working on it, as with a lot of things. As for the guy and his piece of I-beam, I hope he managed to get it to his truck or was ok with leaving it. 

TM

All day, all PAFA

 

    Earlier this year, I was invited to be a visiting artist at PAFA, thanks to the Visiting Artist Program and committee. Last Wednesday (6.21.23), I found myself with a full crit schedule in the afternoon and hour long talk that started at 5pm. I had a great time meeting and talking with the students in the Low Residency MFA program there, where students work at the school in the summer and work virtually for the rest of the year. In my email communications with Jazlyne Sabree, who was heading the VAP committee, a couple of days before my visit, the list of students who signed up for critiques with me started with about four. By the time I arrived at the school, the last slot had filled, which meant that I did back to back 30 minute crits all afternoon, from 12pm-4:30pm with a half-hour break before my talk at 5.

   The packed schedule energized me more than I realized. I really enjoyed speaking with the students and engaging with them about their work. There were a wide range of interests, all 2-D based, but very different approaches to materials and subject matter. Most of the students were in their 30s and above and most had been making art for a number of years, already. One student came to art from a background in law and an additional non-art related career. They all were passionate about what they were doing and all trying to figure out how to keep moving forward with their creative interests. My approach to the crits was to meet them where they are and figure out how I might be able to help them along their journey. They all were really motivated and thirty minutes wasn't quite enough time to dive deep into their practices, but that constraint forced me to be as efficient as possible with my comments. Most of those conversations could have easily gone on for an hour or more. 

    I'm honored that so many students signed up to have crits with me and I hope they all got something valuable out of our time together. I enjoy talking with students about their work because I feel like there's always something that I can pass on to them, regardless of the type of work that they are pursuing. I have over 40 years of experience in making art of some kind and I feel that it's necessary to pass on some of that knowledge so that someone can possibly benefit from it. I tend to shy away from traditional classroom teaching, preferring other ways of engaging with younger artists, like these visiting artist critiques and talks. I think that it's vital for artists to be open and willing to share their knowledge with others. 

    The talk almost didn't happen, haha! I had my presentation on my laptop and on a thumb drive, both of which I took with me. The only issue was that I 'thought' that I'd exported the images as Powerpoint files (from the Keynote files on my Mac laptop), but hadn't and the school's tech is Microsoft based. Anyway, near panic ensues as the tech person went to the library to see if they had a Mac that they could use. However, William Lawler, one of the students that was helping me out suggested that I try to export the file again and this time, it worked, and just in time. 

    This was the first in person artist talk that I'd given since before the pandemic in 2020. A couple of weeks prior, i'd been part of a panel discussion, but that was different. Here, it was just me presenting my work and ideas to an audience. In short, I'm told that the talk was good. From my end, there were a few points that I meant to make, but somehow managed to gloss over because of a small amount of nervousness in worrying about time (roughly 45 minutes for the talk and the rest given over to audience questions) and making sure I was clear in my delivery. I feel like there's room for improvement, but enjoyed the opportunity and am open to doing more in the near future. My talk will probably available on PAFA's website soon. I may hold off on watching it, but will get to it eventually. 

TM

Residue and all

Three views of a work in progress

    A big part of the philosophy behind my work is making something out of the residue of human existence and its effect on the built environment. There's something about the randomness of leftover marks and other interventions on buildings, in streets and other places that contribute to the story of a place. This appreciation for the residual material of life extends to my studio work, where I'm usually finding ways to reuse materials all of the time. This is often in the form of reusing panels that I use for paintings where I'll sand down old images and/or cover up those images to make new work. I like to save and reuse dried acrylic paint skins that accumulate on the plastic-sheet covers of my foam board and cardboard palettes. The same goes for excess paint; I usually mix it all together in a container, making a chromatic gray that's always unique depending on the mix of colors.

    I've been thinking about how I could use my paint cloths as art after they've become too hard and non-absorbent to properly clean my tools. The idea was simple: flatten the cloths as much as possible, use matte or gloss medium to adhere them to one another, and add drawings and paint as necessary. Sometime last week, I dove in and started figuring this out. I grabbed a bunch of the cloths, arranged and attached them in an off-kilter semi rectangle. I let the acrylic medium cure overnight, leaving the form a little stiffer and a lot easier to draw on with acrylic markers. I made  a series of glyph grids on the surface of various sizes and combinations. Some of the marks I made disappeared a bit due to the paint being absorbed by the places on the surface where the medium didn't take. For a first attempt, I like it, so far. 

    One thing that's I've been thinking about is how much mark making to impose on the piece and how much of the original paint stains should I let remain untouched or uncovered. I'd like to keep quite a bit of the original marks, enhancing them here and there. There's a lot of room for experimentation and since this is the first piece like this, it's tempting to throw a lot at it. However, that's not what I want to do. I don't want to overwhelm the work and will probably make another one out of some of the remaining cloths in order to spread out some of my ideas and not have only one bear the weight and responsibility for all of my ideas. Excited about where this could go. 

    Also, I have the work of painter Jason Rolf to thank for planting the seeds of this idea years ago after I followed him on Instagram.  I'm just now getting around to figuring out how this might become a part of my art making, but all things in their own time. 

TM

    

New Artist discovery: T.J. Ly-Donovan

    As most who might be reading this now, Instagram is a treasure trove of artists. I'm finding out about new-to-me artists all of the time and thought it might be good to share them here, as well. First up is someone I just found out about today named T.J. Ly-Donovan. I couldn't find much about them online, so here is their IG account link: T.J. Ly-Donovan on Instagram

T.J. Ty-Donovan's work is very material based and lives in that space between painting and sculpture. Craft foam, board, oil paint and various materials make up their unique wall-based pieces. Ly-Donovan doesn't seem to have a website, but if I come across any more information, I'll post it here. 

TM

Artist & Place podcast: Time and the Cracks Between Things

 About a month ago, I had the pleasure of sitting down with artist Kim Carlino in my studio for a lively conversation about art, life, the role that place and landscape plays in the creative journey, and more for her podcast, Artist & Place. One thing that I've learned from listening to this episode is that I can talk a LOT. I don't always like hearing myself when playing back interviews, but I'm getting better about it. I listened to this one all the way through on the first day that it came out, now that's progress!

You can listen to the podcast on most platforms, including Spotify, Apple and others. Here's the link and thanks for listening: Tim McFarlane: Time and the Cracks Between Things

3.24.23.1

     Got to the studio around 10am this morning which, for me, is great. On average, I'm here much closer to 11 and after, so this is a good development. I've been trying to arrive here earlier in the mornings, but I tend to stay up too late and haven't been good about breaking that habit. Anyway, I'm here now and that's all that really matters. 

    I was on the bus and remembered that I wanted to stop and buy a couple of things to use for drawings, but realized it too late when I was on the bus. I was going to stop by Artist & Craftsman Supply at 3rd and Market and since they were close to opening, I may have been able to get in early. I might make a trip there later, anyway. I really don't *need* to go today, it can probably wait until tomorrow. The thing is, I have this idea locked in my head and have that urge to go and buy the things I want now, as opposed to waiting. Let's see how the rest of the morning goes.

TM

The art life is not a luxury

 “Art is not a luxury”: a phrase that I once saw on a bumper sticker a long time ago and that I used as part of my “signature” on one of my old email accounts. I’ve been thinking a little lately about the word “luxury” as it’s applied to the things that artists make. In the greater public mind, art is considered a luxury commodity because of how it is portrayed in the media through the lens of commerce and capitalism. Big auction numbers of works by household names like Picasso, Rembrandt, Michelangelo, etc…are often the only connection that many people have to art. When it comes to living artists, only the most ostentatious displays or those generating controversy and public comment made are given any kind of notice, the latest being Hank Willis Thomas’ public work of an abstracted embrace of the late Martin Luther King, Jr., and his wife, Coretta Scott King. The work has garnered a lot of attention for how it’s perceived at certain angles; that it resembles an act and anatomical feature of a sexual nature. There are many shades of how art is perceived by the general public. My focus here is mainly on the idea that living a life where creativity is at the center of one's life and livelihood is somehow a “luxury”. 

The context in which most artists might hear that they “have the luxury of being an artist” and everything that goes along with that, is usually from people whose daily work feels like anything but creative, and some artists. Most artists have had to work other jobs in order to pay bills, studio rent, have funds for materials and have the basic necessities of life. Many of us, myself included, have considered the life of being a full-time artist as being a luxury. The “luxury” of being able to do something that is self-determined. Contrast that to how most people spend their lives essentially working for someone else or a larger entity (corporation) where most of what you do is determined by someone else. Again, this is a broad stroke, as there is a huge spectrum of experiences and comfort when it comes to working for someone else. However, often in those situations, people look at the perceived life of a full time creative as being one free of the drudgery and repetition of say, certain types of office work or other regimented occupations. 

While it is usually true that being an artist can be free of certain regimented time and restrictions inherent in everyday work life, it too, has it’s routines and necessities that require us to pay heed to things that we often find laborious and tedious. The need to write artist statements, statements for grant applications, the ongoing search for opportunities to show one’s work, researching materials, keeping good records of sales and expenses, budgeting, finding supplemental income when art sales are slow, actually making the work and the list goes on. The day-to-day life of artists is very much like other occupations, it’s just perceived through a lens of being different, somehow, which it is, but not for the way that so many like to think it is. Creatively centered lives are seen as luxuries in the U.S. because the perception is that creativity and art are things outside of ordinary life, and it has become like that over time as art has become a specialization and not as much a part of everyday life as it once was. Eventually, there came to be certain people in a village or town who were specialists; the shoe maker, the weaver, the furniture maker. Once machinery and specialized businesses took over many of the tasks of making most household items, including parts for houses themselves, art and craft became further specialized in life and education. Art is now mostly considered outside of the spectrum of everyday necessities because there is no longer a need for everyone to make their own furniture, clothing and countless other things like it used to be done. Art now is largely considered outside the scope of everyday life and experience, even though that’s not true at all. 

Art is taught as its own specialty and artists are now deemed specialists when it comes to creativity, in general. Need a poster for the school play? Get Mr. Smith’s art class to make one. Need some graphics for a new merchandising campaign? Let’s get the design department on it. Want a painting of your grandmother in her garden? Let’s talk to Susan down the street, she’s an artist and on and on. This isn’t the worst thing, however, my point is that we as artists should abolish the idea that our time spent making whatever we make is somehow a luxury. I’ve had this same mentality going back years. Almost any time I’ve talked to someone about what I do, I’ve always said that whatever time I’ve had in the studio is a luxury. It really isn’t because what I and countless others do is absolutely necessary, whether the larger society deems it so or not. What I’m arguing for is for artists to abandon the dominant way of thinking about our work time as something that’s on the fringes of existence. No, we aren’t “lucky to have the luxury of making art”, we’re people who are doing the job of creating culture. There’s nothing luxurious about it, It takes a ton of hard work, patience, nerve, grit and more hard work to do what we do and luxury has nothing to do with it.