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

Art and Impermanence: thoughts on painting out "We Dance to Pray"

My latest show at the Bridgette Mayer Gallery, "Presence", closed back on October 5th, 2013. Earlier that week, I arranged to be at the gallery when the deinstallation was to take place so that I could be the person to begin the process of  covering up my painting installation "We Dance to Pray". It was really important to me to bring this piece full-circle because I made it, so I should be the one to destroy it. This is what I had planned for back when I thought of doing a wall piece for the show. The show had a finite time-span and since it was a part of the architecture that needed to be used for following shows, so did this piece. 

The obvious question from most everyone that I talked to about what I was going to do was some variation of, "Won't you feel sad about it being painted over?". My answer was that it was intended to be a temporary work, so, I had no reservations about striking out the painting, as long as I was the one to at least start the process of doing so. It was important to experience that control over something that I made. I didn't want to leave this part of this exhibition experience to someone else. I won't deny that there were times when I thought of the physical and emotional energy it took to make the painting and said to myself, "Wow, all of that energy used and now I'll have to cover all of this up in a month". The thing is, I go through this every time I paint something. Inevitably, there are those moments where certain marks are made and passages of color are admired, and I start thinking about ways to save those satisfying moments of bliss. However, as I remarked in recent conversations, many of those small, enjoyable moments in a painting might contribute to, but not make an entire painting work. Often some of those small moments have to be sacrificed on the way to hopefully making a good painting, or a good painting better. The same as with life where we may experience what seem to be too-quick moments of extraordinary bliss and pleasure. Those moments are often fleeting and cannot be recreated, but they contribute something mighty to our existence. 

Covering up "We Dance to Pray" myself was about practicing what I preach about not letting any artwork become so precious that you cannot conceive of letting it go, whether changed while in the process of being made, the work being sold, or through some other way that you might not have control over. Having the opportunity to cover the painting myself was immensely satisfying because I had personal closure with the entire experience of the exhibition, from start to finish; a year and-a-half or more in the making. Had I left the coverage entirely to the gallery's wall preparer, I would have felt more of a loss than closure. It's a similar feeling as not being able to grieve properly for a loved one, whatever that process might be for you. When that happens, there's a sense that the experience is left open-ended with business unfinished. Having done this, I was able to close that chapter and move on to whatever else I'm going to be doing next without that loose end hanging out there.