Public Works in the Seattle Municipal Tower and Beyond

Yesterday I performed the rare part of dutiful citizen by appeasing the Capitol Hill parking gods with a zone permit. You see, they've been unusually gracious, letting me park all day on the street for the last two months without repercussion. I didn't want to anger them so I walked down to the Seattle Municipal Tower to show my gratitude for their kindness.

Once in the elevator, I accidentally pushed button 33 rather than 37 and smiled politely at my neighbors. (subways and elevators are the same - don't make eye contact, assume a friendly but streetwise stance) The doors opened, and surprise! On the wall across the way hung four works by Margie Livingston, hovering like celestial monoliths. What else does one do in this situation? Shove an arm across the door to take a snapshot of the hallway of course, ignoring the transgression upon my wide-eyed neighbors. Again I smiled, but it was less convincing - this being Seattle they no longer found me friendly.

I wanted to tell them that transit is always inconvenient and they should be goddamned happy there's public art for them to enjoy along the way. I wanted to hold the door while they poured out to view her translucent paintings of rooms filled with light and string. I wanted them to stop and enjoy the world outside the elevator, outside the cubicle, outside the tower to see that beauty often hides in the open. That's a tall order, I understand.

I know a small but loud group of the population complain the public art they see is somehow beneath them, not good enough, vulgar, unapproachable, or an otherwise wasteful expense of tax dollars. Before you say that, think hard about where the larger percentage of your tax dollars go and tell me you aren't glad any part of it goes towards something more sustainable, enlightening, and important to our society and culture than our larger, more sinister contributions.

So I'm motivated to act. I demand you pack your lunch to go and walk over to the Municipal Tower to look at the art before the show ends on the 31st. And once that's over, I demand that you do your research and go find all the art that is just waiting to be discovered all over this small but abundant city. We have all these gifts, and a very tiny portion of your tax dollars fund these gifts, so the best way to say thanks and appreciate them is to find them.

By the way, I hadn't recalled anyone writing about this until I came across Adriana Grant's awesome article from February while looking for titles to Margie's works; and I also stumbled across Gayle Clemans' review in the Times. If there are more articles about our rotating public exhibitions, leave a comment and a link!

Northwest Emerging Artists, Seattle City Light Portable Works: Part 2 is on view at the Seattle Municipal Tower Gallery, 700 5th Avenue @ Cherry, through Dec. 31. While you are there, I highly recommend elevator-hopping to see the other works on view in various tax funded hallways throughout the building.

Excerpt from the main page: Seattle City Light's Portable Works Collection is exhibited throughout City Light's offices, engaging both employees and the public and creating an interesting and diverse work environment. The purchase was made possible with city 1% for Art funds.

A much more professional shot of the hallway, courtesy of Margie Livingston

My sudden snapshot of works by Margie Livingston
Daylight with Yellow and Red Gels, Best Sunny Day, Daylight with White Spot, Dark with Blue Spot
33rd Floor, Seattle Municipal Tower

On Process, or, Now That I'm Getting Back Into the Studio I'm Sure Am Thinking Too Much and Too Hard!

After some thinking over the last month, I've come to the comforting conclusion these boxes, strips and stitches aren't some kind of shtick after all. I mean I've known that, but you know you have to ask yourself these things (relentlessly).

No these are specific rules I must obey. How many times can I do the same thing over and over? How many different ways? Process is about reinvention, but my specific process is also about navigation. You set a rule, you break it. Over and over. Circumvention around this rule is not just the key- in fact, it is the point.

A few years ago, a dear friend introduced me to The Five Obstructions. It's about a director, Jørgen Leth being prompted, pricked, and goaded by Lars Von Trier into reinventing the same story Det Perfekte Menneske five different times, five different ways. The subject, the figure, and the object are almost catalysts to the process, the medium, and the aesthetic. I learned something about myself through this film. The journey is the point, the evidence is circumstantial.

Are we ever really done? Do we ever really follow through with our ideas as far as we should, excavating them until we are at the core? Josef Albers painted the same squares in different colour combinations over the course of decades. He painted them because he was in hot pursuit. So am I.

This work is changing. Perhaps when I started these they were maps and moments in time, but they're becoming less about location and more about noise; perhaps language can be a map too. These stitches, cells, and lines aren't as much about a trail as they are about the code/decoding of my surroundings. I'm translating an overload of information and noise into something soft and quiet, and I'll continue to decipher until I find the truth.

Process is nothing but laying ourselves bare. It's revealing and uncomfortable. It involves a mixed bag of manic ecstasy and devastating heartbreak and the world will watch and wait while you strip to the bone. You might have to admit you don't have any idea what it means until it's on the wall but that's the risk one takes when one asks the world to see.

Do you find yourself inventing/reinventing/tearing down/questioning? How does it fuel your process or your growth? We are learning together here - a bastardized camaraderie through self excavation.

Undergrowth (detail) 2009