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

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

"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

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 

Nine drawings

    

Nine Drawings (out of 20), 2021

Each: graphite or conté and oil pastel on paper, 12.5" x 9.5"

One day recently, I went on a drawing spree. I completed twenty drawings during an afternoon while also watching video profiles of various artists. I don't recall all of them, and I'm sure that there were a couple of repeats, but I often enjoy watching videos when not listening to music or podcasts while working in the studio. This particular afternoon, I wasn't in the mood to paint and remembered that I had this pad of nice, smooth white paper made by Fabriano and that I had a bunch of oil pastels that  hadn't been used in years, so that was it, a drawing day it was. I made some drawings back in 2004 or so where I used graphite with colorless and white oil pastels that turned out really well. I wanted to see what could happen using those same materials with my glyph images. 

The types of mark making that can happen when dragging the colorless or white oil pastels across soft graphite or conté was interesting to see. The blurriness and break down of the original drawing does something for me and I can't quite put it into words. I think it may have to do with altering the drawing in such a way that it begins to take on a different shape and appears to be morphing as I'm manipulating the oil pastels. The drawing seems to be in a state of flux, receding and advancing out from the paper all at once. If I cover the drawing with thicker layers or darker colors, the drawing gets buried under a confluence of marks. I'm always debating how much of the original drawing to leave visible. I'll start covering it up from the middle or one side and work my way across it from there. Determining where to stop the over drawing is always the interesting part. I like pushing the marks to the very edges of the glyph grid and figuring out how much of the glyphs to leave and where to cover them up entirely. 

I'm not sure where these will lead next. I've already made some on larger paper (22" x 30") and the results were pretty cool. However, the surface of the larger paper has a mild cold-press feel to it and even though it's a shallow texture, I'm not entirely satisfied with the results. I'm going to look for sheets of smooth paper that's at least 140lbs. A hot press watercolor paper will work, I'm sure. In the meantime, I think there's a lot to experiment with on the smaller sized paper. The 12.5" x 9.5" size feels really good, so I'll probably continue with more of these drawings at this scale. Maybe make enough to fill up a good sized wall. 

TM

 

Artist Interview on Yale Radio with Brainard Carey

I recently had the pleasure of talking with, Educator, Author, Artist,  and Director of Praxis Center for Aesthetics, Brainard Carey, on WYBC, Yale University Radio. The discussion centered around my studio activities throughout the pandemic and how this year has affected my art practice, as a whole. You can listen to it here: Tim McFarlane on WYBC

TM

 

Coping with Covid

Untitled, 2020, drawing/collage on paper, 30" x 22"

Studio view, May 2020

A few years ago, I had to move my studio into my apartment to keep my art practice sustainable. After some adjustments, I'm more comfortable working at home in a much smaller space. Just in time, it seems, because when the stay-at-home orders came, I was ready. With everything going on; the sicknesses, deaths and myriad socio-economic issues coming to the fore, the best thing I thought I could do was to continue with painting. It’s one of the main stabilizing forces for me.

Life right now is a difficult roller coaster ride. One day, I can work for hours at a time, the next, because of mental fatigue at everything happening at once, all I can do is have a nap, hang out with my cats and watch movies and videos. However, amid all of this, I’ve made new paintings, updated my website and dealt with with other admin tasks that I normally don’t feel that I have time for.

I also cherish those days when I’m not physically productive. The time to just think, daydream and contemplate has made living through the pandemic a bit easier. Another side affect is that quarantine orders came during the transition from winter to spring. Experiencing the renewal of nature gives me hope for renewal of life beyond (or with?) Covid-19.

paint & ink

A couple of newly completed pieces.


Halcyon, 2008, acrylic on panel, 24" x 24"


D52908, 2008, ink on paper, 38" x 50"

wall rubbing

Surface Patterns, 2008, graphite on paper, 30" x 40"

I was in the mood for some 'direct' art interaction, so out came the graphite sticks and a big piece of paper tacked to the wall.

This is one of those 'happy accidents' that happen once in a while. It was going to look a lot different had I followed my original idea. The alternating darker stripes would have been partially covered by some looping 'netting' forms in paint or ink.

However, once I started rubbing the graphite onto the paper, I noticed how the imperfections of the wall, mainly paint spatters and lumps, created the surface texture you see here. So, instead of just filling in the alternate vertical stripes, I covered the entire paper.

Stepping back, I noticed the slight appearance of wrinkled fabric the drawing was taking on and wound up doing several smaller pieces similar to this, only without the patterns. Don't know what might happen with them, but we'll see.

stacks

Hanging Stack
grapihte, oil stick on paper


Floater Stack
grapihte, oil stick on paper

(click images for larger sizes)

These are images of two drawings from a couple of years ago that I mentioned in this post. Rebecca Crowell wondered what they looked like and I finally got around to photographing what I had in the studio.

I did a bunch of these in 2005 and I'm thinking about continuing with the series, called "Stacks". The idea grew out of observing floorboards in my studio. The building is probably nearly a century old and was once a factory of some sort. Consequently, what were once flat, even floorboards are now very worn and irregular in spacing and surface from years of use. The irregularities were what intrigued me the most. I also wanted the 'stacks' to more or less float in space as opposed to being anchored somehow to the edges of the drawing surface.

Then again...

Seriously, I needed more sleep than I thought last night. Sometimes, ideas that come to you in a sleep-deprived state of mind should sometimes remain just ideas. For example, I set about working on some of the ideas I wrote about in my last post today. Sadly, I remembered that I'd already engaged said ideas last year sometime and had proof of their failure.

Basically, the 'stack' drawings with graphite and oil stick are best left to that medium; not enlarged from the 12" x 12" format they were originally done in and defintirely not with other materials. They just don't work. Today, found a couple of experimental works on paper where I used acrylic paint and medium in an attempt to replicate the smaller graphite stack drawings. The newer attempts completely lacked the spirit of the earlier drawings in two ways; the beauty of the graphite over-laid with oil stick was completely lost when I used ink or acrylic paint with brushes. The size, quality of line, and beauty of the pencil lines softened with a layer of clear or white oil stick are integral to the successes I had with the older drawings, most of which I did in 2005.

Some drawings are just never meant to be worked up into paintings. I have sketchbooks full of sketches and color thumbnails that have never made it to fully-realized paintings or other works; they might look great as a little sketch, but once taken beyond that realm, they'll sometimes just fall flat. That's the beauty of art, though. If you never attempt to push things, you never know what's possible or what's best left alone.