Changing lanes

New work-in-progress (detail)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- How is social media affecting my behavior?

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

    

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

    

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

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

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

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

    TM

    

Just like that...

Studio view: 8.16.22

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

    

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

    

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

TM

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

View from top level of our vacation rental

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

             TM 

Money flying away

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

A world unto itself

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

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

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

TM

New flow

    

    The past couple of days here in the studio have been really great. I feel like I'm finally REALLY settling in. I'm beginning to feel comfortable moving around the space, although I have to keep an eye on where I leave whatever tools I'm working with. I'm back to working on several things at once and now that there's more room to move around, I tend to leave things all over the place. Before, in my smaller apartment studio, most things stayed within arm's reach, give or take a couple of yards for some things. I'm not complaining at all, just observing the difference in how I use this space. 

    Having the room to spread out also means that how I think about my work is changing. Being able to leave something out to marinate on one wall, while working on another and having room between the two things is a wonderful feeling and one that I'll never take for granted (not that I did in the past). It makes a huge difference in my creative thinking to be able to walk away from a work in progress and have room to not have to have it in my direct  peripheral vision. It makes it easier to develop what I consider a proper relationship with the work where I can really step back and see it without making visual and mental compromises with all of the visual clutter of the older space. 

    I was thinking earlier about all of the work that I have here in storage. It's nice being able to put it up out of the way and I'm having less attachment to it, as well. All I can think about is the work I'm making and am going to make and barely contemplating the older work. Some of it I feel like I want to keep around just for reminders of what I've learned, but much of it can go. I'm sure I'll look in one of those boxes in the loft months from now and be relieved that I still have certain things and more than I might want to keep.

    I've had some strong feelings about the demands of social media and a creative life. I'm doing my best to not become a slave to the algorithm and keep a good boundary between it and my life; mostly by not posting about everything going on in my life and keeping what I do post to a narrow lane of mostly art, some cats and an even smaller amount of other things. I've softened my feelings about making reels in the studio a bit and only a bit. I'm slowly finding my way around what I need social media to do for me and how I can make the best use of the tools available without giving over every ounce of creative energy to it. For instance, I've come to see that I can film certain aspects of my studio life without feeling like the action is interrupting my creative flow. This has been a revelation and one that I'm glad to have come to. In opening myself up to certain possibilities, I'm better able to find peace with that side of marketing myself and my work without it making me feel angry and rejecting all of it. 

 On another note, I forgot to give an update re: my Covid experience last week. So, I'm all better now and have been since at least Saturday. I was feeling sick most of last week, starting on Monday and by Friday, I was pretty much back to normal. I don't know what this means long-term, but so far, so good. My energy was fully back on Saturday and has held pretty well. I say this all of the time, but it really does make a difference when you realize that you're not sick any more. 

TM

Covid: Day four

         Being able to get up and take a shower  when you’re sick is one of those things that feels amazing and a luxury, honestly. When you're feeling unwell and able to keep some semblance of a normal day. I even put on deodorant, even though I haven't gone outside, yet. I’m feeling better today than yesterday and the day before that, so that’s a win. Again, this is feeling like a bad cold, as opposed to the more extreme symptoms of Covid. I’m really grateful for vaccines and the ability to access them. Otherwise, I’m sure this would have been worse. Hanging out with Cooper, Sage and Banjo all day has been pretty cool. 

        I didn’t want to just lay around in bed all day today, so I made myself scrambled eggs before Julia had to get to work. I have to be quick in order to have something decent early in the day since she works from home. Anyway, I had breakfast and made it a point to go to the basement and start going through my boxes to see what I wanted to bring upstairs. Honestly, there’s a lot of stuff down there that I probably won’t look at much. I have a ton of old photographs that I need to put into photo albums. There’s a lot of personal papers, cards, old exhibition cards and information and a lot of random things that I’ve saved. Just like looking at things once I got them to the new studio where I’m feeling less connected to older work, I also find myself feeling less nostalgic about a lot of the stuff I brought here. The things that I feel like I value most are my old sketchbooks and journals. Everything else is just kind of *there*; I don’t feel as connected to some of the other things. 

        Before I moved, I thought that there was so much more that I *needed* to have around me, but that's not true any more. The older I get, there's a difference in how I view certain belongings. Perhaps it's not so much the belongings themselves, but how I incorporate them into my surroundings, or not. I think that's where I am right now. There's definitely a class of my personal things that no longer serve me. They belonged to a certain time in my life, good, bad or otherwise, but enough time has passed that I no longer need to keep them around. Practicing gratefulness and detachment are wonderful things to incorporate into daily life.  These days, more often I'm thinking about what's going to be left behind when I'm gone and who will care. I won't know nor care what happens because...death. However, since I'm still alive, I still experience sentimentality and even nostalgia, to a certain degree and those things always color how I feel about whatever I'm considering for keeping or letting go. 

      

      Keeping some markers of one's earlier life is important to me. It's a part of remembering, much like keeping a journal and rereading it can connect us to a part of our life that we may have forgotten about. For example, before my studio move, I rediscovered a number of letters from a friend that I worked with years ago when she traveled to and lived in London and later the Pacific Northwest. I'd completely forgotten about that time and how I used to actually write to people when they moved away. I don't know if I really need to keep them, but so far, I am. 

TM

It's all connected

 

    I'm pretty much settled into the new studio. It took almost two weeks to figure out where things were going to live and how to configure the spaces I'll use for painting, but I feel like I've gotten it to where I need it, which is a huge relief. I finally feel like this is my art home, now. There's going to be all sorts of minor adjustments in terms of how I use things, how I move paints and other materials around as I start painting. Actually, I've already begun working on a couple of things, slowly regaining my feeling for painting after being away from it for at least three months. 

    Prepping for the move was a LOT of work, between sorting the paintings and materials, while also organizing (and purging) personal belongings, all of my mental energy was dialed up to eleven almost every day, leaving me drained by bed time. A lot of what I experienced was high emotional energy being expended, as well. Going through years of personal belongings and trying to figure out what I needed and what needed to go was really taxing and the process is on-going. What I've kept so far is in the basement and I'm sure I'll go through and get rid of more. Same here in the studio. I've already purged a lot of old work, but I need to get rid of more. The totality of my painting rack is filled with old work. Before I moved, I thought I had done a pretty good job of purging, but that seems to have been only the beginning. 

    Julia offered me the futon that's in the middle room of the house, so that's the next thing to come in. I'm looking forward to having it here, because studio naps are very much in need! It'll be nice to be able to take a break and catch up on a little sleep in the middle of the day or early evening, like I used to when I had the Old City studio years ago. 

    I'm still figuring out different aspects of my new life routines. I joined a gym over a week ago and have yet to go. I need to work that into my schedule. I need to take my own advice that I gave in a reply to a post on Instagram: "Artists need to remember that they are whole people in addition to making art and need to attend to self care in order to continue being creative. Art is life, life is art. It's all connected."

TM

Another ending and beginning

 

    I said goodbye to the apartment that’s been my home then studio for the past fourteen years today. With Sofia’s help this morning, I moved the last of my belongings and the cats over to the house. I got the cats situated in the third floor guest room and then set off back to the apartment to clear out the rest of the things that were trash and being donated to whomever wanted what I put out on the curb, mainly a mirror and really nice table. I wish I could have found a home for the table, but I’ve had too much to deal with these past few months. I’m sure someone has already claimed it. 

    It’s going to take a while to process that I’m finally not living nor working there any more. I haven’t had a chance to really stop and think about what the ending of this chapter in my life means. Fourteen years is a long time and a lot did happen in this space. Like most of life, there were ups and downs, but overall, I enjoyed my time there. I think my deepest memories come from the lives of the cats who lived there with me and Eva. They’ve been the most consistent presence through everything that happened there. I pretty much mark my time there by the cats, more than anything else. 

    I went up to the property management office BMG (Bay Management Group) to turn the apartment keys in today and no one was in the office. This was around 4:30pm, they close at 5 and no one was there! I was livid! I called the office number that was answered by someone taking and routing calls for the office, explained the situation and he offered to call one of the people who work there that was on a site somewhere, which he did and the best the person could suggest was to mail the keys to the office. I’m not doing that because I want to hand the keys over to someone who works there. I was assured that I wouldn’t be penalized (which I shouldn’t since this is their problem). I’m just going to take them up in the morning. I’ll call first to make sure someone is in the office and to expect me.
So far, Banjo, Cooper and Sage are hanging out in the third floor guest room, getting acclimated to being in a new space. I feel so bad for them since they were so used to the old space, but I’m sure they’ll feel better as time goes on. I do feel bad that they have to stay in the one room for now, until we can move them downstairs into Sofia’s middle room and then slowly introduce them to the other cats. It’s going to be a challenge with seven cats living here, but we’ll find a way to make it work. 
My Instagram account was hacked last week. So fucking annoying! I’m not going to go into the whole scenario here because I’m really tired of thinking and talking about it. I lost access to my main art account and have attempted to get it back, but I haven’t heard anything from Facebook/Meta as to what’s going to happen next, yet. I started a new art account, but I’m really not into posting anything right now. I think the hack took the wind out of my sails regarding social media. I don’t feel the same cautious enthusiasm I’ve had in the past about it being a good tool for my art business. I lost access not only to the account itself, but all of the people I followed and who followed me. Over the years, I amassed a following of over 5,300! It took a long time to get to that point and now, that’s all but gone. If I return to posting on the regular again, I feel like it might not take as long to regain a significant following. Maybe, who knows?
As I said above, my enthusiasm for using IG and other social media sites has diminished a lot more than it has over the past few years from this one incident. This could be a good thing, as it’s making me re-evaluate how I engage with people digitally. One thought has been to revive my art blog and post there much more often than I have. I started doing that a little earlier this year, but IG pulled me right back in. I also don’t know how much people will relate to the longer form writing that I do there. It very well could be  a better way to get my thoughts out there without the constant scrolling that happens on social media. I don’t know what will work, honestly. I have a little bit of a reputation and following IG and really could/should leverage that. I seem to also be gaining a lot of followers on LinkedIn now for some reason. I don’t post there nearly as often as on IG, but my LI following has exploded recently. I don’t know what to make of this. I should make a new post there soon to keep eyes on the page. 

TM

New Studio Update

 

    Yesterday was my first full day in the new studio. I spent the day opening boxes, figuring out storage and generally moving things around to start making the space work for me. By the end of the day, I even managed to get my lights up in the entryway., a hold over tradition from the old apartment studio. I love sting lights because they lighten my mood a lot and add a little personality to this space, in particular, being as utilitarian as it is. I had more strands, but they must’ve gotten damaged during the move somehow because all three didn’t work. Not a problem, I’ll find more soon. 

I’m still amazed that I found room for all of this stuff in the old space! I mean, most of the bulk here are the boxes and most of what’s in them will be used, but still. I’m proud of my organizational skills to have made this work before. I’m a little sad that I can’t have the cats at this location. I’ll be able to be with them at the house, but it’s not the same. Granted, they sometimes got in the way while I was working, but their presence became a part of the workspace and I miss that. The reality is, though, even if I were able to have them here, it’s still a little too far for me to check in on them when I’m not there on the weekends. The old space is only a 15 minute walk from the house, an easy trek, but the new studio is up in Kensington, which would take much longer for me to get to. Anyway, everything will be fine and work out. 

Today, my goal is to open up more wall space so that I can start painting again soon, get my work tables set up and painting supplies out and stored. 

TM

Here We Go!

 

So, this has been a very busy week, so much so that I’ve barely had a chance to catch my breath. There’s a lot going on, even though I moved most of my art things into the new studio last Friday. The move itself went well, although we had to make two trips instead of one. Thankfully, I had prepared as well as I did because it could have been a shit show and headache for all involved had I not. One of the movers even complimented me on how prepared I was compared to other art moves they’ve had to do. From start to finish, it was a very efficient and pleasant experience, one I didn’t expect considering all of the things that had to be moved and packed into the truck. I knew one of the guys, Jay, from my days at Essene, where he was a customer. Jay’s an excellent packer. Phil and Von (sp?) were also really good at the job. 

As can be seen in the photo above, the studio is pretty packed already. Thankfully, I have a decent amount of built-in storage right above the area from where the photo was taken. I hated having to move so much artwork, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been if I hadn’t already purged a number of paintings. Still have a large amount. Hopefully, I’ll be able to have studio visits and move some of this work. 

So, since last Friday, (actually since Monday), I have been hard at work cleaning up the apartment and continuing to organize the left over boxes that are coming to the house, along with a few going to the studio and going for donation. I need someone to help out with a van or something this coming week. I’m also hoping that some money comes soon so I can pay someone to help out. I need to be completely out by May 31st, but I’m trying to be done by next Friday and turn in the keys. So looking forward to that moment. 

This weekend, we’ll be up in New Paltz, NY to attend Julia’s niece, Kanji’s, grad school graduation. Really proud of her. Can’t believe how fast time has gone by. Of course, just about everything seems that way when you get to be in your late ‘50s. I just saw pictures of Shelly Spector’s daughter (whose name escapes me right now) yesterday on Instagram and she’s just graduated college. I used two spin her around in Essene whenever Shelley brought her in. I’m really annoyed that I can’t recall her name now. Anyway, that’s how it goes, on and on, everyone changes, ages, grows up and life keeps going. If we’re lucky, we have some good memories to carry with us. 

Yesterday, I met up with Barry Halkin, a photographer that Bridgette Mayer Gallery uses to photograph exhibitions and projects at the gallery. We spent some time photographing my mural, Bound Together, at 10th and Callowhill Sts. He’s quite expensive, but after studying what he does to get the shots, I don’t have to question the cost any more. It’s the same when it comes my work. People might look at something I’ve made and perhaps wonder why it costs so much, but if they had any clue as to how much work actually goes into making paintings and maintaining a small business as a painter, they’d understand.

TM

New horizons

 

    A huge change is coming. I've been spending the past few weeks organizing, packing and purging in anticipation of moving to a new studio space next week. Honestly, I can't wait. I've spent the past few years working out of the apartment and the time has finally come to expand beyond this space. While necessity made me make the most of my circumstances, there was only so long that I could flourish here. I began the studio search and didn't think that I'd be able to find anything that was within my budget and large enough. I lucked out on both fronts and found a new studio in one of the best arts buildings in the city-the Crane Building in Kensington. 

    I looked at several spaces prior to visiting the Crane to see a space there that someone was moving out of. The space costs the same as my current studio and is larger than other spaces I looked at, so the choice was pretty clear. Not only that, but I'll be right next to Rebecca Rutstein's studio and Arden is right on the second floor. There are a number of other artists that I know who are in the building, as well, including two former art professors of mine. I had a loft storage area and painting rack built in the studio already. I'll go in Tuesday to have my orientation, get keys and the lay of the land. I know the building, but not as a tenant, so there's a few new things to learn. 

    I'm moving on Friday and having a moving company deal with everything. I've been trying to downsize some of my belongings and purge artwork that didn't need to be around any more. It's been about 10 yeas since I did the most recent purge and with the passage of time, I've been able to see some of the work in a different light. It was much easier to let go of older works this time than before. It's been a very cathartic and needed experience. I still have a ton of work to move and that's a bit annoying, but at least I have space to put it all without having to rent an outside storage unit. 

TM

    

    

    

The question of titles

 

Pages from my 2013 studio journal

The question of titles for my work comes up every now and then and I thought that I’d address it here as best I can. Anyone who has heard me talk about this in the past knows that titles are tricky for me. They are usually the last thing that I’m thinking about in the process of making art. It’s very rare that I’ll go into the painting process with a title already in mind. I do like to give my works titles of some sort, sometimes just for identification purposes. In a pinch, the very least I’ll do is something like, “Untitled (green 1)” or assign a number that is usually some configuration of the date the piece was completed. I usually do this with works on paper. 

Titling a work can be tricky, but the first thing I like to do is think about the piece and how it feels to me once it’s done. Does anything jump out at me formally? Is there some visual connection to a place or scenario that I know or have experienced? I might be working on a series and make some variation on the main series title. There’s never usually any one thing that influences a title. When making work, I’m always listening to music, podcasts or there’s just silence. Various things that I might be thinking about, emotional state of mind, how I’m feeling physically can also have a hand in it. “What were you thinking about when you made this?” Is never that simple. There's always a stew of many influences. Usually, my head is in the space of the painting that I'm working on. I'm trying to see how things are coming together or if they are not. 

To help in the titling process, I like to keep a running list of various ideas. Many times, as a starting point, I like to jot down a song lyric from something I’m listening to or maybe there’s a good sentence from something I’ve read that sounds good. I never copy things verbatim, I like to shuffle words and phrases around to come up with something that seems to work with a particular piece. I keep pages in my sketchbooks just for lists of potential titles. Some of my titles have a narrative feeling to them and often, I’ll make those up. It’s a combination of having overheard a snippet of a real conversation, making up a scenario of my own and coming up with something out of that. 

TM

Looking back: "Inverted Dislocation" brochure, 2004

(Above: Brochure for "Inverted Dislocation", with essay by Gerard Brown, 2004)

Recently, I've been going through old art-related papers, exhibition notices, writings, etc...and starting the task of organizing it all. It's been interesting to look back over some of this history, think about that time and how far I've come since. Above are photos of the exhibition brochure for my first solo show at the Bridgette Mayer Gallery, back in 2004. The show was titled, "Inverted Dislocation" and featured works that were much more 'minimal' in appearance than anything that came after. 

I was interested in minimalism at the time, but not the idea that the human hand should not be present. That felt like a dead-end line of thinking for me. I was very much into the materiality of paint on surfaces and not hiding that a person made these works. The extreme side of minimalism, as practiced by Donald Judd and others, shunned any trace of the human hand in the making of art work. With my paintings, I wanted to bring the viewer in with strong form and color and hopefully keep their attention when they got up close and saw all of the shifts in color, surface quality and other materials that I may have used, like graphite. 

A few years prior to this work, in the mid to late 90's, I was making work that was much more grounded in a kind of mixed media painting that straddled the line between painting and sculpture. Those works were comprised of acrylic on wood panels, aluminum, plexiglas, hardware like screws and more. As I worked my way through that body of work, I felt the pull towards a more stripped down kind of painting that was influenced by the Irish-

American painter, Sean Scully and aspects of architecture in cityscapes. My thinking at the time focused on creating spaces that referenced man-made environments, but weren't about a specific place or time. 

Considering Scully's huge influence on my work then, I really struggled with making these paintings, but felt compelled to do so. I wanted to make what I considered straight-forward, bold paintings that subverted viewers' expectations. The first thing people would see were the colors and patterns and maybe think about going past them, but hopefully, the work would be enticing enough for them to come closer to the painting for a better look and discover that there was more going on besides the first impression of pattern and perceived flatness. There's all manner of brushwork, variations in color and other marks that energized those paintings.

My reticence in showing these paintings was that I considered them to be too much like Sean Scully's work. Now, I knew that they didn't really look like his work, but I had been so nose-deep in studying his work that I felt that anyone would make that connection. Maybe they did, but the more I painted, the more that I realized that these were definitely *my* paintings and not knock-offs of Scully's pieces. Realizing that I didn't want those automatic comparisons, I did as much as I could to make my compositions as unique as I could within the parameters of form and color that I set for myself. Once I got past my fear of comparison, I dove into the work fully and feel that I managed to make a group of paintings that stand on their own.

TM

Rest & renewal (is good for art)

(detail of new painting 2.01.22)

Last Friday, I left the studio thinking that I was just about finished with a new painting; that I was just a few small moves away from stopping work on it. Of course, when I got back to the studio yesterday (Monday), I saw that this painting's journey was just beginning. This happens a lot and I'm always telling people that it's a great practice to let a work sit for a day or two, maybe a week, when you feel that it's done or if you're having problems with it and stepping away makes sense. I mostly work in the studio during the week, leaving Saturday and Sunday open to spend time with Julia. Things tend to work out well with this schedule. 

So, last Friday I stopped working on the painting. I felt that it was nearing completion and all I needed was a couple of big or little moves to bring it to its final state. There was some  leakage of paint from under the painter's tape on a section of the painting, resulting in some feathering of paint beyond the border that I didn't want to leave visible. I thought about what to do for a bit, but decided that it was best to just leave it alone for a while since I couldn't find some resolution then. The couple of days away from the work and studio did me good. Monday, I came to the studio with new mental energy and insight into what I thought needed to happen. Without thinking about it too much, I started to add some collage elements to the painting surface with the intention of adding brushwork and drawing on top of them. It was a really risky move, but well worth it in the end.

By the time I was done for the day, I was really happy about having taken the leap of faith with adding the collage elements. They completely changed the spatial dynamics within the image, making for a much more interesting composition than previously. Part of what I was after were different sets of marks than were there previously. The mix of opaque and transparent papers made a huge difference. Adding more marks on top of that pushed this painting to a place it would have never gotten to had I not let it (and myself) rest for a couple of days. 

TM

S p a c e

Morning studio corner

I didn't accomplish much of anything in the studio today. Nothing at all, actually, aside from watching some art-related videos and, later, more entertainment based YouTube videos. There were a few things besides art that I could have tackled, but I was completely unmotivated. I had ideas of working on some drawings and leaving the unfinished painting alone for the day, give myself some time away from it so I can perhaps return to it soon and get to a place of stopping work on it. I ascribe to the notion that paintings are never "finished"-that you simply stop working on them. (I'm paraphrasing the quote attributed to Leonardo Da Vinci). 

Since before Christmas until now, I've been on a very loose studio schedule. That is, I've taken more days off than on. I started back in ernest last week, worked Tuesday and yesterday and did nothing today. Once I stopped work on the one 36 x 36 inch painting yesterday, I spent some time just looking at the other one (40 x 40 inches), trying to figure out how to deal with the feathering that had happened along the taped edges of a shape in the composition. The area I'm thinking about needs some attention, but I haven't quite figured out how to deal with it. So it sits, for now. I didn't even look at it today, which is probably a good thing. 

Part of what's causing my non-motivation these days is the ongoing feeling of not having the  studio space I feel I need right now. I don't have enough floor space and have too much work that needs to be stored. If I were to take on a storage space for most of the work, that would help a little, but I still feel that it wouldn't be enough. I could be wrong, but I don't think so. I filled out an online form to get onto the Bok Building's waitlist for spaces, but honestly, I think that those spaces, when one is even available, will be beyond my budget. I have to do something to move towards a solution, so we'll see what happens. I'm also in another phase of downsizing the amount of personal items that I no longer need to keep with me there, like clothes that I no longer wear and linens I have no use for. Most of the things I have that I can get rid of are small things that aren't going to make a big overall difference, but I need to look at everything and determine if I need to be holding onto it.

I think the work space issue is getting to me and causing a lot of the uneasiness I'm feeling about working there. I'm feeling a limitation on the scale of the work that I'm able to make comfortably these days. On the flipside, there is always the problem of art storage and, quite frankly, I make a LOT of work. I need to make less work, or sell more. Beyond that, I need to look a lot more critically at the studio space and do my best to maximize it.

TM

A quiet day

Studio 1.19.22 :: Morning studio light

I had a rather "quiet" day in the studio. Normally, I'd have been listening to podcasts and music throughout the day, but not today for some reason. In the morning, I had a video interview with Craig Sterling, the director of the Art Bank Program of the U.S. Department of State . Craig purchased a piece last year ("Star 69", a work on paper from 2012) and by the beginning of February, it'll be part of a new exhibition of works in the collection. I'm really honored and proud to have one of my works included in the State Department's collection. As soon as things ease up with Covid and they allow visitors into the building again, we'll go down to see the show. In the meantime, Craig said that he'd send me some photos of the show once it's installed. The interview I had with him is going to be featured in a kiosk for visitors so they can learn more about who I am and the work that I make. As usual, as soon as the interview was over, I thought of things that I wanted to say and ways of saying some things differently than I did. 

Once the interview was over, I set about getting to work on a couple of new paintings that I've been working on for the past week or so. I mentioned in my last post that I'm nearing the ending point for these two and after today, I did finish one of them. The other is going to take a little more time. There's an issue of some feathering along the edges of a large area that was taped off. Some of the paint managed to leak under the tape in a few places, causing the edges to have fuzzy-looking edges. I stared at the painting a lot today, going over various scenarios of how I may be able to solve the issue, but nothing stood out as a likely solution, so I tabled it until tomorrow. I'm taking things a little slow these days, trying to not rush myself into finishing something. It's nice to give myself a little space to take my time with some of my creative work. Last year was about getting a lot of things done at the same time and right now, I don't have that pressure. I'm going to let myself go a little slower and let things develop at a much slower pace. At least that's the idea.

TM

 

Re-engaged

Detail: work on paper, 2022

What a difference a day makes! Yesterday, I was having trouble even being in the studio. I forced myself to go because I needed to at least be in there. I'd taken some time off from working regularly over the holidays to just have some time with family and to try and decompress a bit. Last year, while incredibly fruitful was also really intense in a way that it hadn't been in a long time. By December, I needed to slow down, take everything in and recalibrate. It was time to let go a little, reflect and begin to slowly start to move forward again. 

I always preach that artists need to take time away from directly making art and care for other aspects of their lives. Being able to balance things out a little can help a lot. This year, in spite of it being one of the best I've ever had creatively and professionally, found me questioning my role as an artist and more specifically, my work as of late. The biggest thing to haunt me was "What now?" How do I move forward after having such an intense year of artmaking? The answer is to just start somewhere and see where that takes me. I've done just that in the form of two new paintings, one 36" x 36" panel and a 40" x 40" canvas. 

I'm starting to get somewhere. The pieces aren't quite at a place where I can stop working on them, but maybe in a couple more studio sessions. I'm finding myself kind of dissatisfied with how I'm painting. I need to change some things up, but I'm not sure what those are just yet. I'm really wanting to work on some pieces that don't rely on the glyphs, but I'm having a hard time figuring out what that looks like. The only way I'll be able to figure that out is to make more drawings. I need to carve out some time to just draw and make marks without expectations of making something "good". I've been making some collages that have drawing as a component, but what I'm thinking about are just drawings existing on their own without imposing preconceived ideas about what they should include.

TM

Solutions: don't take the obvious for granted

A view of my Daily Observations photo archive

Earlier this afternoon, I hit a wall with a new painting that I'm working on. Well, not so much a wall as a door to which I had the right shaped key, but that key had been cut wrong, making entry a little difficult. I started thinking about how to solve the issue that I was having by doing what I usually do; refer to other paintings of mine for clues. I'll often look to other artists' work, as well. This habit has been ingrained in me since high school. It's often hard to turn off this part of my thought process when viewing artwork, especially when the work has some resonance with mine. I try to be aware of my thought patterns in these situations because I can miss out on really looking at the work. 

This afternoon's issue was something that came up during the last painting session I had, three days ago, on Friday. Towards the end of that session, I had the unmistakable feeling that I had reached that first point where I didn't know what to do afterwards. The painting needed something to push it forward, but what that was, I hadn't a clue. When I came in today, it was still taunting me, daring me to even think about a solution. After doing a little prep work on three other panels, the possible solution hit: why not take a look through some of the hundreds of photos I've taken that make up my ongoing Daily Observations project? I've done it a couple of times in the past, but using the photos to work out a painting problem is generally nowhere near the top of my list. Anyway, I got on my laptop to look at some shots and within a couple of minutes, I had what I thought was my solution. Not bad at all. 

When I make use of a source outside of my own work for problem solving, it's never with the intent of direct copying something into my painting. I'm just looking for some way into a solution, something that will trigger a response within me that will lead to a way forward. In general, it's both a form and a feeling. I'm not looking at the photos and thinking, "Ah, ha, that's the exact thing I need to use!" More often, it takes elements from several sources to comprise a workable solution. It's good that this time, I was able to come up with something that made sense fairly quickly. Now, I have to deal with the new question(s) that my solution brought up. 

TM

The physicality of life in art

(photo: ©Stanley Whitney)

"You want to bring the physicality of life to your work"

-Stanley Whitney

I was watching a short interview with Stanley Whitney via YouTube this past week and this quote really grabbed me. It hit home because I've been thinking about issues related to this in my work. A lot of what influences my work is the textures of the world around me, like different kinds of wood screwed together, layers of worn posters stapled to utility poles, cracked and lined cement and asphalt...the list goes on. I'm a fan of bringing more physicality to my paintings, but I've wanted to do it in a way that doesn't just mimic the textures that I see in the streets. I'm not looking to replicate those textures, but to develop textures that suit the specific needs of a work. 

I've always embraced various types of textures in my painting, but never anything that was too obvious, at least from a distance. Mostly, it's been visual texture through the manipulation of forms on the surface. These textures don't rise from the painting's surface, but are just changes in how the paint or drawing material is handled. I had a period in the late '90s where I made a bunch of mixed media works where plexiglas, aluminum and wood were used in a variety of ways and had their own textures. I've never embraced really thick applications of paint on my paintings to create texture-it always seemed to be too much about surface, whereas I've been more interested in making spatial environments that rely on changes in scale to create depth. I went for textures that were a little more subtle. Like the mildly sandpapery Micaceous Iron Oxide (MIO) that Golden makes. Once dry, MIO has a surface that may be equivalent to 100 grit sandpaper Not too chunky, but still noticeable to the eye, and it's somewhat reflective. 

Lately, I've wanted to make some of my glyphs stand out from the surface. I've found that a heavy gel medium does the trick very well. Not only does it create a good peak, it gives a nice, almost encaustic-like look to the paint. Now, I want to experiment with adding differing amounts of paint and dried pigments to the gel medium to see how it acts.

"The physicality of life" is such a perfect way to describe what I want to bring to my work. That can take the form(s) of brushstrokes, scraping of paint, drips, covering of areas and so on. It's not only the look, but the general feeling that I hope to communicate. I like that some of my paintings feel like they're still in the process of evolving, even when I've chosen to stop working on them. Allowing some of the making process to be seen keeps the work alive in a way that I can't explain. It's similar to when observing the changes in my environment, on my walks, subtle and not so subtle; there's almost always a feeling of small wonderment at recognizing shifts in the world around me.  Doing this reminds me of how life is in continual change and flux, something that I want to convey to the viewer. My hope is that through the work, they'll recognize and appreciate something of what I see and experience. 

TM