I can't stop with the Yellowcard.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Ellsworth Kelly and the Moakley & Richard Serra as Prophet
One of the things I have yet to note about the Moakley exhibition is the thrill for me personally in having the opportunity to show anywhere within a 30 mile radius of Ellsworth Kelly.
Ellsworth Kelly was commissioned to create 21 colored panels for the Moakley Courthouse that are a permanent installation there, and some of which can be seen from the gallery my work is currently hanging in at the courthouse.
See above for some shots of Kelly’s work at the courthouse.
I will digress a bit more on Paul Hayes Tucker, the champion human being, stellar art historian and educator, and personal mentor that helped shape many of my ideas about art and art history during my visit to UMAS/Boston, when I complete my new work meditation regarding water lilies…. But for the time being, the connection is that my first critical work on an artist was on Ellsworth Kelly for Paul Tucker’s class, Art Since 1940, some ten years ago.
I tried to dig up the old paper, but can’t seem to find it. I think I titled it “Tension” which was in reference to Kelly’s use of color and shape in energized contrast to the spaces he showed in.
Needless to say, this connection, and the idea of showing with Kelly, has been a thrill for me. When I first looked at the space I was in awe that I might show with work I respected so very much.
In my old job, before I was art full-time, every once in a while someone would catch wind I was an artist and invariably the Kelly panels at the Moakley would come up. “So, what do you think of the colored squares?” Or, “You’re an artist, what do you think of that work at the Moakley?” always with disdain. “Tell me, those thing are worth like a million bucks?”
I would sometimes explain how they might be worth a million a piece someday, if not currently, and that Kelly actually took the commission below market for his work, or how “colored squares” might not be the best description. But most often I resorted to genuine pure honesty:
You mean the Ellsworth Kelly’s? Yes. They are amazing.
I once had the privilege of seeing Kelly’s piece “Sculpture for a Large Wall” from 1957 in person in NYC and it was thrilling (see above… pic from pantherhouse.com ). It is likely my favorite work by the artist, and I stumbled upon it almost by accident (interestingly after seeing Richard Serra's "Torqued Ellipses," as Serra is referenced below).
And while Kelly isn’t in my posse of huge influences (the de Koonings, Rothkos, O'Haras... etc.), some of his ideas on art have been very, very influential to me. One of the debates at the time of his brekthrough, as always, had been the role of art versus the role of decoration… what is art versus what is decoration. This was pre-earthworks and site pieces ( a la, Smithson, Walter de Maria, etc.... the notion of taking art completely out of the hands of the mediators— gallery owners, curators, etc) and Kelly said something to the effect that art shouldn’t just hang on a wall, art should be the entire wall. He envisioned a world of walls built of paintings. Often when I have a blank canvas on my wall I wonder if I should create, transcend, build, or destroy a wall. Something like Frost’s “Good Fences Make Good Neighbors,” and I attribute the birth of some of these ideas to Kelly.
So, all that is a great way of saying that I am happy to show with Ellsworth.
The other thing that has occurred to me lately (maybe in connection to this and maybe not) is how difficult it is to make public art. Mostly, I have been thinking of Richard Serra’s “Tilted Arc.”
Tilted Arc is studied in a lot of art history classes as kind of the height of the difficulties of creating public art. Here is a blurb from PBS.com:
“In 1981, artist Richard Serra installs his sculpture Tilted Arc, in Federal Plaza in New York City. It has been commissioned by the Arts-in-Architecture program of the U.S. General Services Administration, which earmarks 0.5 percent of a federal building's cost for artwork. Tilted Arc is a curving wall of raw steel, 120 feet long and 12 feet high, that carves the space of the Federal Plaza in half. Those working in surrounding buildings must circumvent its enormous bulk as they go through the plaza. According to Serra, this is the point, "The viewer becomes aware of himself and of his movement through the plaza. As he moves, the sculpture changes. Contraction and expansion of the sculpture result from the viewer's movement. Step by step the perception not only of the sculpture but of the entire environment changes."
Ellsworth Kelly was commissioned to create 21 colored panels for the Moakley Courthouse that are a permanent installation there, and some of which can be seen from the gallery my work is currently hanging in at the courthouse.
See above for some shots of Kelly’s work at the courthouse.
I will digress a bit more on Paul Hayes Tucker, the champion human being, stellar art historian and educator, and personal mentor that helped shape many of my ideas about art and art history during my visit to UMAS/Boston, when I complete my new work meditation regarding water lilies…. But for the time being, the connection is that my first critical work on an artist was on Ellsworth Kelly for Paul Tucker’s class, Art Since 1940, some ten years ago.
I tried to dig up the old paper, but can’t seem to find it. I think I titled it “Tension” which was in reference to Kelly’s use of color and shape in energized contrast to the spaces he showed in.
Needless to say, this connection, and the idea of showing with Kelly, has been a thrill for me. When I first looked at the space I was in awe that I might show with work I respected so very much.
In my old job, before I was art full-time, every once in a while someone would catch wind I was an artist and invariably the Kelly panels at the Moakley would come up. “So, what do you think of the colored squares?” Or, “You’re an artist, what do you think of that work at the Moakley?” always with disdain. “Tell me, those thing are worth like a million bucks?”
I would sometimes explain how they might be worth a million a piece someday, if not currently, and that Kelly actually took the commission below market for his work, or how “colored squares” might not be the best description. But most often I resorted to genuine pure honesty:
You mean the Ellsworth Kelly’s? Yes. They are amazing.
I once had the privilege of seeing Kelly’s piece “Sculpture for a Large Wall” from 1957 in person in NYC and it was thrilling (see above… pic from pantherhouse.com ). It is likely my favorite work by the artist, and I stumbled upon it almost by accident (interestingly after seeing Richard Serra's "Torqued Ellipses," as Serra is referenced below).
And while Kelly isn’t in my posse of huge influences (the de Koonings, Rothkos, O'Haras... etc.), some of his ideas on art have been very, very influential to me. One of the debates at the time of his brekthrough, as always, had been the role of art versus the role of decoration… what is art versus what is decoration. This was pre-earthworks and site pieces ( a la, Smithson, Walter de Maria, etc.... the notion of taking art completely out of the hands of the mediators— gallery owners, curators, etc) and Kelly said something to the effect that art shouldn’t just hang on a wall, art should be the entire wall. He envisioned a world of walls built of paintings. Often when I have a blank canvas on my wall I wonder if I should create, transcend, build, or destroy a wall. Something like Frost’s “Good Fences Make Good Neighbors,” and I attribute the birth of some of these ideas to Kelly.
So, all that is a great way of saying that I am happy to show with Ellsworth.
The other thing that has occurred to me lately (maybe in connection to this and maybe not) is how difficult it is to make public art. Mostly, I have been thinking of Richard Serra’s “Tilted Arc.”
Tilted Arc is studied in a lot of art history classes as kind of the height of the difficulties of creating public art. Here is a blurb from PBS.com:
“In 1981, artist Richard Serra installs his sculpture Tilted Arc, in Federal Plaza in New York City. It has been commissioned by the Arts-in-Architecture program of the U.S. General Services Administration, which earmarks 0.5 percent of a federal building's cost for artwork. Tilted Arc is a curving wall of raw steel, 120 feet long and 12 feet high, that carves the space of the Federal Plaza in half. Those working in surrounding buildings must circumvent its enormous bulk as they go through the plaza. According to Serra, this is the point, "The viewer becomes aware of himself and of his movement through the plaza. As he moves, the sculpture changes. Contraction and expansion of the sculpture result from the viewer's movement. Step by step the perception not only of the sculpture but of the entire environment changes."
The sculpture generates controversy as soon as it is erected, and Judge Edward Re begins a letter-writing campaign to have the $175,000 work removed. Four years later, William Diamond, regional administrator for the GSA, decides to hold a public hearing to determine whether Tilted Arc should be relocated. Estimates for the cost of dismantling the work are $35,000, with an additional $50,000 estimated to erect it in another location. Richard Serra testifies that the sculpture is site-specific, and that to remove it from its site is to destroy it. If the sculpture is relocated, he will remove his name from it. “
The pic is from PBS.com as well. And interesting to note the other connection, of the Moakley being a GSA building as well.
Mostly I have been thinking of this sculpture as I have been thinking of artist as prophet. The controversy around this was the alleged lack of access to public space.. that is, in order to get in these public buildings, people had to walk around the arc.
How interesting that in post-9/11 America we now take this lack of access as the norm. Not only security clearance— for instance, to get into the Moakley you need to pass through metal detectors, check in electronics, present 2 forms of ID— but also these barrier-type physical stoppers are the accepted now. Take a walk around downtown Boston, or any urban environment, and all skyscrapers have these stoppers built around them so a car with explosives can’t drive up and blow up the building. So, I now claim Serra as an artistic prophet— viewing the future of access/blockade and rendering it 20 years ahead of time.
Mostly I have been thinking of this sculpture as I have been thinking of artist as prophet. The controversy around this was the alleged lack of access to public space.. that is, in order to get in these public buildings, people had to walk around the arc.
How interesting that in post-9/11 America we now take this lack of access as the norm. Not only security clearance— for instance, to get into the Moakley you need to pass through metal detectors, check in electronics, present 2 forms of ID— but also these barrier-type physical stoppers are the accepted now. Take a walk around downtown Boston, or any urban environment, and all skyscrapers have these stoppers built around them so a car with explosives can’t drive up and blow up the building. So, I now claim Serra as an artistic prophet— viewing the future of access/blockade and rendering it 20 years ahead of time.
A stretch? Maybe, but why not? And why have a blog if you can't proclaim random ideas like Richard Serra is a prophet from time to time?
For more on Paul Hayes Tucker, Ellsworth Kelly, Richard Serra, Prophets, Kurt Cole Eidsvig, or Fall Out Boy (I am currently browsing their videos on YouTube as I write this) check out your friendly neighborhood Google.
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Hollywood Invasion
Had someone ask me this week what movie was being filmed in Midway... take a look at the sign from the set being built downstairs included in my post a few days back... The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past starring Matthew McConaughey. I was sure if you couldn't read the sign in the photo you would have at least surmised it with the Breckin Meyer reference.
If anyone isn't familiar with movie making, it is about the craziest thing ever. There are vans dropping people off, people with radios, security, huge lights pointed at the building, tractor trailers, extra air conditioning pumped in, extras milling around the building, green rooms, tables and tables of food. I am pretty sure it is better coordinated than any war effort, including storming the beaches at Normandy. Above, see some shots of the tractor trailers outside Midway and the lights pointed at the building out front.
But no ladies, there have been no McConaughey sightings yet, which means there have also been no shirtless McConaughey sightings. There haven't even been any Breckin Meyer sightings.
Also, see a great Mattie Damon impression of McConaughey. Welcome to Beantown.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Pollock Painting
Found this on YouTube recently. After the last post thought it might be nice to post it here.
New Work Meditation 2: What's Up With the Dots
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I was reading a biography on Jackson Pollock a while ago, and it said something to the effect of “when he started to work in circles, that’s when you knew he was going insane.”
In truth, the book was “Jackson Pollock: An American Saga” (by Naifeh & Smith) and the quote comes from page 5 during a scene with artist Tony Smith in it:
“On the floor lay a painting that Jackson had been working on recently, a network of delicate circles painted with a light, tentative brush— unlike anything he had done before. Seeing it, Smith thought of something George Grosz had told him once: ‘When a painter works in circles… he is near madness.” Look at van Gogh, he had said.”
Of course, ever since, I have wanted to work with circles.
As a side note: The bio “An American Saga” is excellent. But to go one better, just the introduction, which is about 8 pages long, is probably some of the best writing, and most insightful work into the character, mystique, trouble and persona of Pollock that has been done.
As a second side note: I share a review with Grosz. A show of his work got praised, mine got butchered. You can probably find it on the net.
Back on track…. dots. I have always believed that the blessing and the curse of Post World War 2 American Art has been the amazing productivity. As a reflection of rapid cultural shifts, and a strong desire to be new and original, vastly different styles, techniques and art forms have exploded into being over the past 60 years.
Abstract Expressionism, Abstract Impressionism, Color-field Painting, Shaped Canvases, Pop, Installations, Photorealism, Minimalism, Earthworks, Conceptual Art, Mixed Media, etc., etc… as the art world has whirled from one approach to the next it has created new styles and wonderful expression, but I often wonder if the final chapter for each has been written, or if enough time has really been spent on each major movement.
You might arguably state (Art Historians love to argue) that Impressionism ran from about 1860 to 1920, Neo-Classicism from 1765 to 1830, the Italian Renaissance from the 1300’s through the 1400’s… contrast this with the 5 or ten years given to Abstract Expressionism and you might start to wonder.
So what better place to start than with circles?
I have used circles, or been interested in using circles, for a long time. One of my paintings from about seven years ago “Kiss” is pictured above and was included in a few shows in Missoula, Montana.
At about the time of “Kiss” I’d become fascinated with Barnett Newman as well. For anyone unfamiliar, here is a blurb from wikipedia:
“Barnett Newman (January 29, 1905 – July 4, 1970) was an American artist. He is seen as one of the major figures in abstract expressionism and one of the foremost of the color field painters.
In the 1940s he first worked in a surrealist mode before developing his mature style. This is characterized by areas of color separated by thin vertical lines, or "zips" as Newman called them. In the first works featuring zips, the color fields are variegated, but later the colors are pure and flat. Newman himself thought that he reached his fully mature style with the Onement series (from 1948). The zips define the spatial structure of the painting, whilst simultaneously dividing and uniting the composition.”
His famous “zip” paintings were interesting to me as I always wondered what was behind these streams of light, or what was “inside” them. As if a door had opened just a crack and I wanted to open it further. Plus, I loved the idea of the story or the message in these paintings, as with his Onement and Stations of the Cross series.
The notion of enlarging and bending Newman’s zips gave rise to paintings of mine like “Juniper,” shown above.
Also above, see Onement 1, 1948. From the Museum of Modern Art website. This is the first example of Newman using the so-called "zip" to define the spatial structure of his paintings.
Combing these 2 ideas (that is reconsidering an artist’s story or work and circles) brought me to Roy Lichtenstein and his dots.
For anyone not familiar with Lichtenstein, here is a blurb from wikipedia:
“Roy Fox Lichtenstein (27 October 1923 – 29 September 1997) was a prominent American pop artist, his work heavily influenced by both popular advertising and the comic book style. He himself described Pop art as, "not 'American' painting but actually industrial painting".
Lichtenstein used oil and Magna paint in his best known works, such as Drowning Girl (1963, Museum of Modern Art, New York). Also featuring thick outlines, bold colors and Benday Dots to represent certain colors, as if created by photographic reproduction.
Benday dots were considered the hallmark of American artist Roy Lichtenstein, who enlarged and exaggerated them in many of his paintings and sculptures especially his interpretations of contemporary comicbook and magazine images. Other illustrators and graphic designers have used enlarged Benday dots in print media for a similar effect.”
Rather than use the “dots” to make up the painting, I wondered what it might be like to see inside these dots (as if opening Newman’s zips a bit wider) and actually having the dots hold an image as much as the larger piece did. Of course, this fit the idea of pulling out the collage elements that had been making up the subjects of my paintings, and putting them on the surface rather than behind the paint (something that likely connects to some ideas I have about Monet and Waterlilies but more on that later maybe).
What else fit the Lichtenstein/circles/dots connection? There was something about taking mass media (internet/catalogs etc.) and reinventing it into art that fit a connection with Lichtenstein and comic books. Like… are catalogs and internet pornography the new comic books? When I think of kids coming home after school with the internet age I really wonder about the second.
Also, when I was working on Summer Clearance, which to be totally contrarian has no collage elements whatsoever, there was a certain light blue/yellow combination that felt like Lichtenstein or comic books (like a superhero uniform). I kept thinking and thinking of him.
I suppose for a poet and a painter, a lover of text and words and images, Lichtenstein is also a magnetic force. Consider the fortune cookies paper slips found in “Choppy-Chop” an homage to him as well. As well as Frank O’Hara and his “Lines for Fortune Cookies,” which is a great poem.
On top of all that, I love comic books. Some of the X-Men comic covers I have are my favorite works of art. And Batman’s “Arkham Asylum” or the Wolverine/Havok “Meltdown” series… amazing.
There is more here on the dots too, I know. More ideas of what looking at print under a microscope reveals, or ideas of the particles that make up everything; visual patterns as melodies, or looking past something floating on the surface to something else… or fragmented reality.
But some combination of Pollock’s insanity, Newman’s beckoning zip lines, Lichtenstein’s dots, and a desire to shift content between the surface, foreground, mid-ground, and background of the painting, accounts for some portion of these new works.
Above, see Lichtenstein’s “M-maybe” from 1965 as found on http://www.leninimports.com/
And of course, Dots, from www.oldtimecandy.com/dots.htm
In truth, the book was “Jackson Pollock: An American Saga” (by Naifeh & Smith) and the quote comes from page 5 during a scene with artist Tony Smith in it:
“On the floor lay a painting that Jackson had been working on recently, a network of delicate circles painted with a light, tentative brush— unlike anything he had done before. Seeing it, Smith thought of something George Grosz had told him once: ‘When a painter works in circles… he is near madness.” Look at van Gogh, he had said.”
Of course, ever since, I have wanted to work with circles.
As a side note: The bio “An American Saga” is excellent. But to go one better, just the introduction, which is about 8 pages long, is probably some of the best writing, and most insightful work into the character, mystique, trouble and persona of Pollock that has been done.
As a second side note: I share a review with Grosz. A show of his work got praised, mine got butchered. You can probably find it on the net.
Back on track…. dots. I have always believed that the blessing and the curse of Post World War 2 American Art has been the amazing productivity. As a reflection of rapid cultural shifts, and a strong desire to be new and original, vastly different styles, techniques and art forms have exploded into being over the past 60 years.
Abstract Expressionism, Abstract Impressionism, Color-field Painting, Shaped Canvases, Pop, Installations, Photorealism, Minimalism, Earthworks, Conceptual Art, Mixed Media, etc., etc… as the art world has whirled from one approach to the next it has created new styles and wonderful expression, but I often wonder if the final chapter for each has been written, or if enough time has really been spent on each major movement.
You might arguably state (Art Historians love to argue) that Impressionism ran from about 1860 to 1920, Neo-Classicism from 1765 to 1830, the Italian Renaissance from the 1300’s through the 1400’s… contrast this with the 5 or ten years given to Abstract Expressionism and you might start to wonder.
So what better place to start than with circles?
I have used circles, or been interested in using circles, for a long time. One of my paintings from about seven years ago “Kiss” is pictured above and was included in a few shows in Missoula, Montana.
At about the time of “Kiss” I’d become fascinated with Barnett Newman as well. For anyone unfamiliar, here is a blurb from wikipedia:
“Barnett Newman (January 29, 1905 – July 4, 1970) was an American artist. He is seen as one of the major figures in abstract expressionism and one of the foremost of the color field painters.
In the 1940s he first worked in a surrealist mode before developing his mature style. This is characterized by areas of color separated by thin vertical lines, or "zips" as Newman called them. In the first works featuring zips, the color fields are variegated, but later the colors are pure and flat. Newman himself thought that he reached his fully mature style with the Onement series (from 1948). The zips define the spatial structure of the painting, whilst simultaneously dividing and uniting the composition.”
His famous “zip” paintings were interesting to me as I always wondered what was behind these streams of light, or what was “inside” them. As if a door had opened just a crack and I wanted to open it further. Plus, I loved the idea of the story or the message in these paintings, as with his Onement and Stations of the Cross series.
The notion of enlarging and bending Newman’s zips gave rise to paintings of mine like “Juniper,” shown above.
Also above, see Onement 1, 1948. From the Museum of Modern Art website. This is the first example of Newman using the so-called "zip" to define the spatial structure of his paintings.
Combing these 2 ideas (that is reconsidering an artist’s story or work and circles) brought me to Roy Lichtenstein and his dots.
For anyone not familiar with Lichtenstein, here is a blurb from wikipedia:
“Roy Fox Lichtenstein (27 October 1923 – 29 September 1997) was a prominent American pop artist, his work heavily influenced by both popular advertising and the comic book style. He himself described Pop art as, "not 'American' painting but actually industrial painting".
Lichtenstein used oil and Magna paint in his best known works, such as Drowning Girl (1963, Museum of Modern Art, New York). Also featuring thick outlines, bold colors and Benday Dots to represent certain colors, as if created by photographic reproduction.
Benday dots were considered the hallmark of American artist Roy Lichtenstein, who enlarged and exaggerated them in many of his paintings and sculptures especially his interpretations of contemporary comicbook and magazine images. Other illustrators and graphic designers have used enlarged Benday dots in print media for a similar effect.”
Rather than use the “dots” to make up the painting, I wondered what it might be like to see inside these dots (as if opening Newman’s zips a bit wider) and actually having the dots hold an image as much as the larger piece did. Of course, this fit the idea of pulling out the collage elements that had been making up the subjects of my paintings, and putting them on the surface rather than behind the paint (something that likely connects to some ideas I have about Monet and Waterlilies but more on that later maybe).
What else fit the Lichtenstein/circles/dots connection? There was something about taking mass media (internet/catalogs etc.) and reinventing it into art that fit a connection with Lichtenstein and comic books. Like… are catalogs and internet pornography the new comic books? When I think of kids coming home after school with the internet age I really wonder about the second.
Also, when I was working on Summer Clearance, which to be totally contrarian has no collage elements whatsoever, there was a certain light blue/yellow combination that felt like Lichtenstein or comic books (like a superhero uniform). I kept thinking and thinking of him.
I suppose for a poet and a painter, a lover of text and words and images, Lichtenstein is also a magnetic force. Consider the fortune cookies paper slips found in “Choppy-Chop” an homage to him as well. As well as Frank O’Hara and his “Lines for Fortune Cookies,” which is a great poem.
On top of all that, I love comic books. Some of the X-Men comic covers I have are my favorite works of art. And Batman’s “Arkham Asylum” or the Wolverine/Havok “Meltdown” series… amazing.
There is more here on the dots too, I know. More ideas of what looking at print under a microscope reveals, or ideas of the particles that make up everything; visual patterns as melodies, or looking past something floating on the surface to something else… or fragmented reality.
But some combination of Pollock’s insanity, Newman’s beckoning zip lines, Lichtenstein’s dots, and a desire to shift content between the surface, foreground, mid-ground, and background of the painting, accounts for some portion of these new works.
Above, see Lichtenstein’s “M-maybe” from 1965 as found on http://www.leninimports.com/
And of course, Dots, from www.oldtimecandy.com/dots.htm
Monday, April 21, 2008
New Work Meditation 1: The Deal With the Women
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One of the questions I have received most often lately is “what’s the deal with all the women?”
Lots of times it’s tinged with this weird air. This idea as if my art is smut, or I am some sort of smut peddler painting lurid scenes of spicy women. In fact, the organizers of the Moakley show wouldn’t let me hang a piece— Summer Clearance— as they thought it would be too racy. They even thought that Target/Target might get some requests to be taken down. This was a little strange to me as the women are fully clothed in Target/Target and in Summer Clearance they were pretty flatly rendered and clothed in swimwear.
It ended up OK though, as the wall space wasn’t enough for Summer Clearance too.
But my first reaction to some of this has been the most egotistical maybe. That, as a member of the arts community, and fairly well trained and educated (likely trained and educated beyond my ability and intelligence) there might be a chance that my goal in all this is actually to produce art. Maybe not good art, or art that you like, but that I am at least trying to aim for art… something with some depth and meaning.
And some of the meaning in all this is how ironic it is that the everyday images we see (catalogs, baseball cards, magazines, billboards, internet content) might mean something a lot different if we stopped and looked at them for a while.
For example, a catalog that goes out to millions of homes in inoffensive as it sits on your coffee table, but when these same images are made flat, are distilled to line and color, and made into a still image people ask me if I am a smut peddler. Maybe I should start to sign my paintings “Larry Flynt.”
So, at the risk of sounding like an artist (which is a serious risk), if the content or ideas depicted in these “women” paintings is emotionally charged, strangely sexual, offensive or confusing, I might encourage you to consider the source of these works… or to take a look next time you walk past the newsstand or open up your mailbox. If catalogs are OK for mass consumption shouldn’t paintings be too?
What else about the women? The idea of media image/self-image, what is beautiful and what is material seemed easier to ask by using input from women featured in mass media. We are still a culture arguing over beauty, especially at women. Screaming an argument at them from every media outlet. To be real is to be vulnerable. To be fake is to be powerful and desired.
Although, the baseball card paintings have an interesting story too about masculinity and sex.
I am also a big believer in the larger conversation in art. Any art. And using women as subjects in paintings calls to the tradition of women in portraiture. The question that occurs most often in creating the work for me is “what is the current outlet of women’s portraiture?” If this outlet is no longer created in or with painting and art, where is it? Is Victoria’s Secret Summer Sale catalog our new stand-in for the Mona Lisa? Titian’s Eurpoa is now oddly satisfied by glamour photo shoots of Lindsay Lohan or something found in internet pornography? What are the true renderings of feminine beauty (or masculine beauty.. is it a Calvin Klein ad?) in our culture and what do they say about art, audience, and ourselves?
What about Matisse, Gauguin, Boticelli, Ingres, Delacriox, Goya, Sargent, everyone? Can women in bikinis in a painting be that stunning or sexually charged when we see sex on the cover of every magazine, especially in comparison to the whole of art history before cameras were even invented?
Plus, with sex everywhere, if I was aiming for seduction or sex wouldn’t I be a little more saucy about it? I mean, these paintings of mine don’t even compete with an Herbal Essences commercial, a Yoga instructional video, or a good advertisement for toothpaste.
Above, see some other steamy paintings over the years, top to bottom:
1. Jean Honore Fragonard - The Swing - c.1768-69 from arthistortarchive.com
2. Titian, Europa, about 1575–80 from www.gardnermuseum.org
3. Sandro Botticelli, The Birth of Venus c. 1485-86
Lots of times it’s tinged with this weird air. This idea as if my art is smut, or I am some sort of smut peddler painting lurid scenes of spicy women. In fact, the organizers of the Moakley show wouldn’t let me hang a piece— Summer Clearance— as they thought it would be too racy. They even thought that Target/Target might get some requests to be taken down. This was a little strange to me as the women are fully clothed in Target/Target and in Summer Clearance they were pretty flatly rendered and clothed in swimwear.
It ended up OK though, as the wall space wasn’t enough for Summer Clearance too.
But my first reaction to some of this has been the most egotistical maybe. That, as a member of the arts community, and fairly well trained and educated (likely trained and educated beyond my ability and intelligence) there might be a chance that my goal in all this is actually to produce art. Maybe not good art, or art that you like, but that I am at least trying to aim for art… something with some depth and meaning.
And some of the meaning in all this is how ironic it is that the everyday images we see (catalogs, baseball cards, magazines, billboards, internet content) might mean something a lot different if we stopped and looked at them for a while.
For example, a catalog that goes out to millions of homes in inoffensive as it sits on your coffee table, but when these same images are made flat, are distilled to line and color, and made into a still image people ask me if I am a smut peddler. Maybe I should start to sign my paintings “Larry Flynt.”
So, at the risk of sounding like an artist (which is a serious risk), if the content or ideas depicted in these “women” paintings is emotionally charged, strangely sexual, offensive or confusing, I might encourage you to consider the source of these works… or to take a look next time you walk past the newsstand or open up your mailbox. If catalogs are OK for mass consumption shouldn’t paintings be too?
What else about the women? The idea of media image/self-image, what is beautiful and what is material seemed easier to ask by using input from women featured in mass media. We are still a culture arguing over beauty, especially at women. Screaming an argument at them from every media outlet. To be real is to be vulnerable. To be fake is to be powerful and desired.
Although, the baseball card paintings have an interesting story too about masculinity and sex.
I am also a big believer in the larger conversation in art. Any art. And using women as subjects in paintings calls to the tradition of women in portraiture. The question that occurs most often in creating the work for me is “what is the current outlet of women’s portraiture?” If this outlet is no longer created in or with painting and art, where is it? Is Victoria’s Secret Summer Sale catalog our new stand-in for the Mona Lisa? Titian’s Eurpoa is now oddly satisfied by glamour photo shoots of Lindsay Lohan or something found in internet pornography? What are the true renderings of feminine beauty (or masculine beauty.. is it a Calvin Klein ad?) in our culture and what do they say about art, audience, and ourselves?
What about Matisse, Gauguin, Boticelli, Ingres, Delacriox, Goya, Sargent, everyone? Can women in bikinis in a painting be that stunning or sexually charged when we see sex on the cover of every magazine, especially in comparison to the whole of art history before cameras were even invented?
Plus, with sex everywhere, if I was aiming for seduction or sex wouldn’t I be a little more saucy about it? I mean, these paintings of mine don’t even compete with an Herbal Essences commercial, a Yoga instructional video, or a good advertisement for toothpaste.
Above, see some other steamy paintings over the years, top to bottom:
1. Jean Honore Fragonard - The Swing - c.1768-69 from arthistortarchive.com
2. Titian, Europa, about 1575–80 from www.gardnermuseum.org
3. Sandro Botticelli, The Birth of Venus c. 1485-86
And 4., my new namesake from crimelibrary.com
That might be more of a rant than a blog entry, but it was fun. And no, I have no idea what toothpaste ad I might be talking about. It just sounded right.
Meditations on New Work & The Truth About Poetry
MEDITATIONS
Now that the new show is up it has given me a chance to reflect a little on my new work. Also, some of the questions/comments/response of visitors to the show, the site, and the blog over the past few weeks have generated some thoughts on this new work. Over the next few posts I will talk a bit about the women, the dots, and might even get to… wait for it… water lilies.
POETRY
Above, see the poetry broadside for "Chicago" as seen at the Reference Point show.
Have had some questions lately about poetry and poems and where the ideas from poems come from. Thought it might be interesting to talk about this a bit. Mainly, “so the stuff in your poems, are these things from your life?” (or some variation on that theme).
Here goes:
It is hard to explain. People generally think of poetry as "true." Like if you say in a poem "I went to the movies" it really means that I, Kurt Eidsvig, went to the movies. Then again, people do the same with fiction. They always think the writer and the main character are the same person.
When I was in Grad School I decided to never let the truth get in the way of a good poem. So, while they all start with an idea that is mine, and some contain things I have seen, thoughts I have had, people I know, etc... I will bold-faced lie or make something up in a poem if it will make it better. It sounds a lot cooler to say something like "the sky was shattering like sea glass sorting itself out between the sand and the surf," than it does to say "the sky was blue. There was no sea glass that day." Or maybe not. I kind of like the sadness in not finding sea glass at the end there.
Plus, poems are a lot like songs, only with the music and the words all mixed up into one. So while a songwriter might make something up to make a rhyme, a poet might make something up for the sound of the "s" or to have one beat at the end of a line, or whatever. All that said, poems are really a neat art form because they are so intimate. There is something about reading a poem that seems like you are peering into someone's mind, or spying on them, or know their innermost thoughts or feelings.
And all that said, it is true, Even if I "lie" in a poem it is to more truly capture a feeling or get someone to feel or think something, maybe. And finally, yes. a lot of my poetry is "me" but some of it isn’t.
And as for how I chose what poems to make into “broadsides.” It seemed dependent on poems that were heavily influenced by place or heavily referenced place (that is, a true geographic location on a map, so I could pull the map, collage it, and lay the poems down). Also, they had to be poems that had lengths suitable for the format (I had decided that using excerpts wouldn’t be as string). For this, Blue, Chicago and Missoula seemed just right. This added to the fact that they are definitely some of my stronger work and seemed worthy of this visual art/poetry status.
Now that the new show is up it has given me a chance to reflect a little on my new work. Also, some of the questions/comments/response of visitors to the show, the site, and the blog over the past few weeks have generated some thoughts on this new work. Over the next few posts I will talk a bit about the women, the dots, and might even get to… wait for it… water lilies.
POETRY
Above, see the poetry broadside for "Chicago" as seen at the Reference Point show.
Have had some questions lately about poetry and poems and where the ideas from poems come from. Thought it might be interesting to talk about this a bit. Mainly, “so the stuff in your poems, are these things from your life?” (or some variation on that theme).
Here goes:
It is hard to explain. People generally think of poetry as "true." Like if you say in a poem "I went to the movies" it really means that I, Kurt Eidsvig, went to the movies. Then again, people do the same with fiction. They always think the writer and the main character are the same person.
When I was in Grad School I decided to never let the truth get in the way of a good poem. So, while they all start with an idea that is mine, and some contain things I have seen, thoughts I have had, people I know, etc... I will bold-faced lie or make something up in a poem if it will make it better. It sounds a lot cooler to say something like "the sky was shattering like sea glass sorting itself out between the sand and the surf," than it does to say "the sky was blue. There was no sea glass that day." Or maybe not. I kind of like the sadness in not finding sea glass at the end there.
Plus, poems are a lot like songs, only with the music and the words all mixed up into one. So while a songwriter might make something up to make a rhyme, a poet might make something up for the sound of the "s" or to have one beat at the end of a line, or whatever. All that said, poems are really a neat art form because they are so intimate. There is something about reading a poem that seems like you are peering into someone's mind, or spying on them, or know their innermost thoughts or feelings.
And all that said, it is true, Even if I "lie" in a poem it is to more truly capture a feeling or get someone to feel or think something, maybe. And finally, yes. a lot of my poetry is "me" but some of it isn’t.
And as for how I chose what poems to make into “broadsides.” It seemed dependent on poems that were heavily influenced by place or heavily referenced place (that is, a true geographic location on a map, so I could pull the map, collage it, and lay the poems down). Also, they had to be poems that had lengths suitable for the format (I had decided that using excerpts wouldn’t be as string). For this, Blue, Chicago and Missoula seemed just right. This added to the fact that they are definitely some of my stronger work and seemed worthy of this visual art/poetry status.
For more on poems and poetry I would check out the life of Jack Spicer, William Carlos Williams' poem "This is Just to Say," the fire escape Frank O'Hara sat on, and the collected works of Biggie Smalls.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Making Movies in Midway
So, it is a little cool when you realize that someone is creating a movie set in your own building. Above, see some pics from the movie set being built here in Midway Studios. I did an IMDB search on the movie… who knows, maybe I will meet Breckin Meyer?
Between that and acclaimed movie actor Dan Demiller Jr. setting up residence in Midway the building has Tinseltown written all over it.
No, not literally.
This only furthers my claim that Boston is reemerging as the hub of the universe. World Series trophies, movie stars, superbowl dynasties, art, culture… what more proof do you need?
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