Studio, Wednesday Afternoon

Painting (and parts of painting sure to change tomorrow)

 

 

Beginning

When I was a beginning undergraduate student, I naturally contended with my share of art assignments.  I was never overly bothered by assignments in art class.  My self-challenge, when given a directed project to complete, was always to figure out how I might interpret the directives in a way I'd find interesting, challenging and absorbing.  Invariably, the task required focus and a willingness to make some circuitous translations of the given assignment's seeming requirements.  I knew an idea or solution was good if I was afraid to begin, nervous to put the idea in motion and/or supremely hesitant to see what would transpire.  If I felt afraid, or restless, or worried (or tempted to come up with a safer idea) then I knew I HAD to carry on with my initial impulse.

I recall these feelings now, because I've cleared the long wall in my studio--readying it for the next painting/collage/installation.  I believe I know the elements of the painting--this last month has been a guide.  I feel restless though.  I'm not going to write any more about it--idea-wise that is...  But I've brewed my second cup of tea,
posted to this blog,
checked email,
emptied the dishwasher and
swept the studio floor. 
I've just got to get going.

Components (or elements)

1. stripes
2. drips
3. letters
4. lines
5. painting on the wall
6. painting on paper pinned to the wall
7. expanse

Color and Order

Yet another post on what leaves me speechless--

Franklin Evans at Sue Scott Gallery
Periodically, I see something made by an artist and the urge to yell very loudly, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU wells up with force!  I suppose I wish to say these words to the artist, but in honesty I'd like to broadcast my gratitude to the universe even more--that along with all the supernovas, and untapped galaxies, stunning and beautiful in their unknown forms, we get some thing like what you see above, made by a person.  I didn't know the possibility of Franklin Evans installation existed until this morning when, tiredly checking my email before heading out into the rainy mist of today, I found these images.  

It's a good day for painters/it's a good day to be in the studio painting, so pardon the brevity of this post...

The MacArthur Foundation gave two of its awards to painters this year...Mark Bradford (yes, I consider him a painter) and Rackstraw Downes.

I am particularly thrilled about Mark Bradford; I saw his work in person a couple of years ago, and I was blown away, undeniably.  I actually can't think of a contemporay artist whose work has so impacted me physically and conceptually.  He has been hugely important to my thinking on the studio ever since.

Kandinsky at the Guggenheim

 I can't tell you how excited the prospect of seeing this show is to me!!!

Nearly each of the exploratory works from 1909 to 1914 — there are more than 40 here — is a hole in the membrane of observable reality that reveals a nonobjective cosmos defined by tangles of line and colored shapes and shadings. Each is a brave new crowded world in free fall, full of more forms, colors and agitation than any single painting needs.      Roberta Smith, in today's New York Times

Studio floor, Thursday afternoon

New paintings

I've got to send some recent images off to a woman who will be showing my work in February.  So I took a bit more care in my picture-taking this afternoon--moving in closer, trying to get a whole painting in a shot, etc.  They are are only made with my dinky camera, but you can see what's going on I think.

Finished paintings!!!  All 8"x9", acrylic on canvas, made in the last couple weeks...

Rodarte this spring

I relish high fashion when it's risky, inventive and closer to art than not--but of course mostly I'm interested when it gives me ideas for my own work.

So Rodarte's spring collection is high on my list right about now. I love the mash up of color and texture, varying directions and heights--too bad they (all of them) still insist on using those too-thin models.

3 instances of space and quiet (from yesterday)

1. After Chris and Alex left for school, I took Benny on his morning walk. We cover a four mile loop every day. I love the walk as much as he does because I'm moving steadily and I can be quiet.

2. Just a bit ago I listened to Terry Gross interview the editor of Ted Kennedy's new memoir--out today. Apparently one of the reasons Kennedy loved sailing was because he could be completely alone.

3. At lunch I read the first chapter of Haruki Murakami's book on running and writing; he says, As I run I tell myself to think of a river. And clouds. But essentially I'm not thinking of a thing. All I do is keep on running in my own cozy, homemade void, my own nostalgic silence.

Sketchbook, Monday Afternoon

Studio, Friday Afternoon

Out and about/or sightings by the flaneur of Climax

Hurvin Anderson

Look here
and here
and here.

These paintings really hit me right about now, and I want to see them very much in person.

Oh hopefully there will at least be a good catalog in the interim...

A very pointed view of the world at 7:38pm, last evening

I love watching my son take pictures.

Last evening, just prior to bed, he asked me to turn the camera on for him as he wanted to take a couple pictures.

He took a picture of the screen on our window, the letter magnets on our fridge, a lot of the dog, me drinking a glass of water. And then I watched him open up the microwave so he could take a picture of its inside.

That's what you see here, in the second image--the inside of our microwave. All this happened at about 7:38pm; he took a picture of the clock too.

Alexander's picture making bonanza occurred after a slew of sock-it-to-your-mom-the-supposed-artist moments. While I was making dinner he wandered into the kitchen with three just-made drawings; on each page was a string of his letters (which are a brilliant conglomeration of "accurate" letters and letters Alex has made up on the path toward learning his letters). Each drawing/string of letters was the name of a lost dog.

Every artist needs a four year old child to talk to with frequency.

I don't recall

what this is--
I cut it out without the caption because I wanted to imagine what it might be.

Notable Methods of Order (as panoply of line)

This pencil cactus sits just outside my studio. Today, in an inimitably wonderful world-looking-like-the-studio/studio-looking-like-the-world moment, I found myself staring at its haphazard construction, believing I most certainly buried its tendencies deep in my visual unconscious at some point...and here, now, these past few weeks it's all coming out on the walls.

The correlation is not exacting, or even huge, but partial--and so significant.

Studio, Tuesday Afternoon