The opening reception for Image for Sale last Friday was a good opportunity for me to see my work in a different way. At least for me, things always look a little bit different out of the studio— and it also allowed me to think about the whole series again from scratch. Kind of interesting to have someone ask “where did the idea for using collage like this come from…” or, “what made you think to do this, or that…” and see where the answers come from.
Also, it occurred to me as I started writing this that I may start to repeat myself in this blog. This is unintentional, but probably should be expected, as I am sure that in my art I am reconsidering things over and over again and trying to see them in different ways. Anyhow, if I do repeat myself, feel free to skip ahead.
All that said, there were two overriding ideas I had on Friday when discussing the “Image for Sale” pieces— one having to do with my experiences with Debra Earling and the other, Sam Walker. Debra came up in my gallery discussions, but Sam kind of just occurred to me out of nowhere.
At the University of Montana I was fortunate enough to take a class with Debra Earling (who goes by Debra Magpie Earling in her literary career) and two subsequent independent studies while I was there. I was also lucky enough to have her on my thesis committee, and got to know her and her work quite a bit while I was there.
One of the major ideas that came across was the idea of different landscapes in life. That is, what landscapes are we attracted to, do we call home, do we own inside us? At the time, it led me to thinking about emotional landscapes and internal landscapes— and to thinking about Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko maybe painting these “internal” landscapes.
At the start of this recent series, I took this literally. Although I don’t remember thinking heavily on Debra and my work under her guidance, this idea of landscape and place and what we internalize has been very influential in my work regardless. As a poet, I have spent a great deal of time writing on “places” (South Boston, Flathead Lake, Key West, the sky, the ocean, etc.) and as a visual artist this idea of place, and internal place, has come up again and again in my painting.
The first painting I did in this series of collages (although it is hard to say where the series really began… “Miracle B”? “100 Airplane Rides”? “Ketchum, Idaho”? but for sake of argument…) is the one titled “Coast to Coast.” Coast to Coast takes this idea of landscape and internal landscape very deliberately and uses maps as the collage elements behind the skin of the women. The idea being something about our own emotional landscapes, and internal landscapes, and personal physical landscapes (the curve of our wrist, length of an eyelash)…
Above, see a detail from Coast to Coast showing a road map under the surface of the paint.
This idea evolved quickly into what in our internal landscapes/memory banks/personal image dictionaries do we impress upon what we see? And what if what we are seeing is ourselves? How is that impacted by our memory, our internal imagery, etc.
But, all that said, the gallery talk on Friday had me thinking of Debra and this early idea of what our internal landscapes are made from. I am sure this idea is present throughout these paintings and am not sure I saw that so clearly until people started asking me questions about the works at the opening.
The image above is from the cover of her book as found on Amazon.com
The other ideas I had on my work that hadn’t occurred to me were based around my work with Sam Walker.
I think I have already mentioned Sam in my blog— but he was an instructor of mine at UMASS/Boston who I also spent some considerable class time with as well as time in independent study. My first experiences with series paintings came under Sam’s direction— he exposed me to Arshile Gorky and I began doing watercolors that were based in figurative gestures and loosened enough into abstraction. I also did an extensive collage series using photographs, acrylic paints, and found objects around the death of my father under Sam’s guidance— this series I titled “Losing Montana” and at least one from the series has been published in reproduction (in the journal “Cutbank”).
I will never forget Sam saying, as a term of encouragement, “You’re really cooking with oil now.” He was tremendously supportive of me, and of my work, and I considered him a friend. He passed away very young, in 1999, but his influence continues to show up in my work.
One aspect I hadn’t thought of was in the use of mirrors— and bright colors. In a course I had on drawing with Sam in maybe 1998 or 1997 he gave the assignment of doing a small series of paintings using two mirrors. That is— parts of our body that we couldn’t necessarily see using only one mirror.
I thought it was about the stupidest thing I ever heard, and set out to show Sam what I thought. I painted 5 different paintings, all in heavy contrast colors— greens and yellow, purples and blues, etc., that featured items like the back of my ear, bottom of my foot, and my favorite, my ass.
Of course, being blinded by my own drive for proving a point, I forgot that we would have to hang all of these up in front of class for critiques, and I had to pushpin my ass, along with other items, up for the whole class to see. Nice rebellion.
But what occurred to me in the gallery on Friday is that the use of mirrors is a big link to this exercise, and that here I am using a very, very similar color palette. So, I smiled to myself thinking of Sam Walker, a huge influence on my work, who I grew to like immensely— but who I was out to show a thing or two when I started in his class.
The summer before he passed away I was due to do some house-sitting and use his studio, but the plans fell through. But not only did Sam introduce me to a number of techniques and practices in the approach of art— he introduced me to the idea of being a Fort Point artist. He is very responsible for beginning my thoughts and desires of finding a place in Fort Point and pursuing my art here.
So, the Friday reception was a good moment for reflection— and how interesting to see what comes up when people start asking questions on my work.
Finally, yes, TMBG was awesome at the Wellfleet Beachcomber on Friday. What better way to celebrate a fabulous opening reception than some They Might Be Giants? Yes, the pic is a little fuzzy— but the ‘Giants kicked ass.
Also, it occurred to me as I started writing this that I may start to repeat myself in this blog. This is unintentional, but probably should be expected, as I am sure that in my art I am reconsidering things over and over again and trying to see them in different ways. Anyhow, if I do repeat myself, feel free to skip ahead.
All that said, there were two overriding ideas I had on Friday when discussing the “Image for Sale” pieces— one having to do with my experiences with Debra Earling and the other, Sam Walker. Debra came up in my gallery discussions, but Sam kind of just occurred to me out of nowhere.
At the University of Montana I was fortunate enough to take a class with Debra Earling (who goes by Debra Magpie Earling in her literary career) and two subsequent independent studies while I was there. I was also lucky enough to have her on my thesis committee, and got to know her and her work quite a bit while I was there.
One of the major ideas that came across was the idea of different landscapes in life. That is, what landscapes are we attracted to, do we call home, do we own inside us? At the time, it led me to thinking about emotional landscapes and internal landscapes— and to thinking about Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko maybe painting these “internal” landscapes.
At the start of this recent series, I took this literally. Although I don’t remember thinking heavily on Debra and my work under her guidance, this idea of landscape and place and what we internalize has been very influential in my work regardless. As a poet, I have spent a great deal of time writing on “places” (South Boston, Flathead Lake, Key West, the sky, the ocean, etc.) and as a visual artist this idea of place, and internal place, has come up again and again in my painting.
The first painting I did in this series of collages (although it is hard to say where the series really began… “Miracle B”? “100 Airplane Rides”? “Ketchum, Idaho”? but for sake of argument…) is the one titled “Coast to Coast.” Coast to Coast takes this idea of landscape and internal landscape very deliberately and uses maps as the collage elements behind the skin of the women. The idea being something about our own emotional landscapes, and internal landscapes, and personal physical landscapes (the curve of our wrist, length of an eyelash)…
Above, see a detail from Coast to Coast showing a road map under the surface of the paint.
This idea evolved quickly into what in our internal landscapes/memory banks/personal image dictionaries do we impress upon what we see? And what if what we are seeing is ourselves? How is that impacted by our memory, our internal imagery, etc.
But, all that said, the gallery talk on Friday had me thinking of Debra and this early idea of what our internal landscapes are made from. I am sure this idea is present throughout these paintings and am not sure I saw that so clearly until people started asking me questions about the works at the opening.
The image above is from the cover of her book as found on Amazon.com
The other ideas I had on my work that hadn’t occurred to me were based around my work with Sam Walker.
I think I have already mentioned Sam in my blog— but he was an instructor of mine at UMASS/Boston who I also spent some considerable class time with as well as time in independent study. My first experiences with series paintings came under Sam’s direction— he exposed me to Arshile Gorky and I began doing watercolors that were based in figurative gestures and loosened enough into abstraction. I also did an extensive collage series using photographs, acrylic paints, and found objects around the death of my father under Sam’s guidance— this series I titled “Losing Montana” and at least one from the series has been published in reproduction (in the journal “Cutbank”).
I will never forget Sam saying, as a term of encouragement, “You’re really cooking with oil now.” He was tremendously supportive of me, and of my work, and I considered him a friend. He passed away very young, in 1999, but his influence continues to show up in my work.
One aspect I hadn’t thought of was in the use of mirrors— and bright colors. In a course I had on drawing with Sam in maybe 1998 or 1997 he gave the assignment of doing a small series of paintings using two mirrors. That is— parts of our body that we couldn’t necessarily see using only one mirror.
I thought it was about the stupidest thing I ever heard, and set out to show Sam what I thought. I painted 5 different paintings, all in heavy contrast colors— greens and yellow, purples and blues, etc., that featured items like the back of my ear, bottom of my foot, and my favorite, my ass.
Of course, being blinded by my own drive for proving a point, I forgot that we would have to hang all of these up in front of class for critiques, and I had to pushpin my ass, along with other items, up for the whole class to see. Nice rebellion.
But what occurred to me in the gallery on Friday is that the use of mirrors is a big link to this exercise, and that here I am using a very, very similar color palette. So, I smiled to myself thinking of Sam Walker, a huge influence on my work, who I grew to like immensely— but who I was out to show a thing or two when I started in his class.
The summer before he passed away I was due to do some house-sitting and use his studio, but the plans fell through. But not only did Sam introduce me to a number of techniques and practices in the approach of art— he introduced me to the idea of being a Fort Point artist. He is very responsible for beginning my thoughts and desires of finding a place in Fort Point and pursuing my art here.
So, the Friday reception was a good moment for reflection— and how interesting to see what comes up when people start asking questions on my work.
Finally, yes, TMBG was awesome at the Wellfleet Beachcomber on Friday. What better way to celebrate a fabulous opening reception than some They Might Be Giants? Yes, the pic is a little fuzzy— but the ‘Giants kicked ass.
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