sharon arnold | dimensions variable

Heads Up, A Redirect!

2010-03-04T13:38:00.000-08:00

All posts are now at www.dimensionsvariable.org. Please be sure to update all bookmarks, blogreaders, and posted links! In addition, my art site is now over on www.trianglesforteeth.com.

Thanks :)

Indian Head Test Card! Please Stand By....This is Only a Test.....

image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Shut Up Already... I'll Look At Your Art!

2010-02-25T10:32:00.001-08:00

Don't say you haven't had the chance for a Chelsea gallerist to view your work, because now you surely do.

In a refreshingly democratic (if not tongue in cheek) format, every artist who knows about it has the chance to upload one photo sans resume and rhetoric on a site called Shut Up Already...I'll Look At Your Art. From SUAILAYA's blog:

Gallerist Ed Winkleman and guests (persons to be recruited by Mr. Winkleman to join him, for different periods of time and varied group size) will spend a portion of his time in his gallery during #class reviewing digital images of work sent via the internet to #class by artists globally. Artists will be asked to submit a digital image of one piece of art to be reviewed by Mr. Winkleman and his guests.

While you shouldn't necessarily expect a call from Winkleman, this does eloquently prove a point that while artists are desperately clamoring for attention, Winkleman is willing to show us he can take time out of his day to look. In this post, he tells us about how it all got started as an anonymous proposal for #class, currently ongoing at Winkleman Gallery.

And lest ye still be cynical, lacking in hope via this lighthearted #class project, take note. Ed says:

OK, so what do you get out of this if you participate? It's hard to say. Kind of depends on what you submit or who volunteers to be my guest on any given day. I would hope other dealers would be willing to look as well from time to time (hint! hint!), so that even should certain work not be quite right for our program it might be just what another dealer is looking for.

In other words, the mantra for artists is and always will be: you never know, so it never hurts to try. Go get 'em tiger, submit your work here - you know you want it. (do it, I did!)

More info from the SUAILAYA site:

The Rules (roughly):

Artists will submit one digital image to "Shut up already. I'll look at your art"
Mr. Winkleman and guests will view the image for no less than 10 sec.
Mr. Winkleman and guests will be monitored by a volunteer as they view the work to assure full compliance with the rules.
Mr. Winkleman, his guests and the Monitor will sign a certificate of viewing stating the image has been viewed
Mr. Winkleman and his guests will have no obligation to provide representation to any of the artists, make any comment about, or critique any of the images.
Once an image is viewed by Mr. Winkleman and his guests the artist cannot complain that their work is not being considered by a professional gallery for one year from the date of viewing, Mr. Winkleman and his guests will be absolved of any further obligation to take complaints by artists that their work is not being considered by a professional gallery seriously for one year from the date of viewing,
As Mr. Winkleman and his guests view the images, they wiil be available on the internet to be viewed.

#class is an exhibition in the form of a think tank organized by Jennifer Dalton and William Powhida. #class will feature over 50 events, discussions and performances presented in response to an open call for proposals on the topic of ambivalence about the commercial art market system.

Joey Veltkamp, Pink Tiger, 2008. acrylic on canvas, 36"x36

I Can Hardly Keep Up!

2010-02-24T10:57:00.001-08:00

...therefore I've hardly been writing but I've got a few things up my sleeve, I swear! Clicking "publish post" is so much harder than you think...

Until then, I've uploaded some new work and a statement here!

Also, The Whitney Biennial is finally here! Artist/blogger Sharon Butler covers the tip of the iceburg, and Jen Graves gives us a preview including some other previews.

I must say I'm completely underwhelmed by it's stunning and brilliantly creative title, 2010. For the show that everyone loves so much to hate, am I already looking forward to 2012? Will it be titled "2012: Mayan Apocalypse"? Because that would be awesome.

One absolute plus: this year's Biennial includes Portland artist Storm Tharp. Yay for the Northwest! (I'm trying to stay positive that we're even on the map)

Cluster 1 ink, Arches Cover White 5" x 5" 2010

Greetings Starfighter!

2010-02-13T18:25:00.001-08:00

"You have been recruited by the Star League to defend the frontier against Xur and the Ko-Dan Armada. Good Luck!"

In eager anticipation of participating in BrüTübe (with fellow artist/curators Julie Alpert, Matthew Browning, Shaun Kardinal, Joshua Lindenmayer, Jessica Powers, and Susan Robb) I'm going to give you the five minute version of the long lost and beloved Atari Game. But first, a quick blurb about my upcoming selections:

I thought about the idea of "fair" and it led me to think about "fair game", which gave me a sense of love no longer being sacred or certain -- least of all in the future which could be mercenary, dystopian or ridiculous. Romance is ultimately philosophical and part of what it means to be human; something we learn from Nexus-6 Replicant Roy Batty's (played by Rutger Hauer) monologue at the end of Bladerunner.

My February Art Events - Bad Words and BrüTübe!

2010-02-08T07:45:00.000-08:00

Some of you might be on the email list but in case I've missed you, I have a couple of quick show announcements for February:

First up is this coming Thursday, 11 February at the Twilight Collective in West Seattle - BAD WORDS, a group show curated by Chris Crites.

When: Thursday, February 11 from 6-9pm (through March 8, 2010)
Where: Twilight Artist Collective, West Seattle Junction, 4306 SW Alaska St. Seattle, WA 98116
www.twilightart.net

An excerpt from the press release:

What makes a word bad? After all, they're just words. It is the human imagination that generates a context in which certain words are frowned upon in common usage...This show is intended to be an examination of words that could be construed as "bad". I asked several artists to play with this concept of what makes BAD WORDS.

Can't make it to the opening? No worries - while I'd love to see you there Thursday night, the show will be up all month until 8 March!

*WARNING: This show contains language that could be considered offensive and is intended for mature audiences.

Next up is next Friday, 19 February at the Kirkland Art Center - BrüTübe: All's Fair in Love and War!

When: Friday February 19th, 7:30pm
Where: Kirkland Art Center, 620 Market Street Kirkland, WA 98033.
www.kirklandartscenter.org

BrüTübe is a one-night-only event where six artist/curators present fifteen minute presentations of selected You Tube videos. Don't forget to bring a handful of $1 bills for RedHooks (for those over 21), and there will be a raffle! Snacks are free.

Hope to see you there! :)

Sharon Arnold, Ambition [elevation:∞] (detail) 2009 ink, Arches Cover White

Daniel Carrillo Documents a Moment in Seattle Art History

2010-02-04T09:47:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I accompanied Emily Pothast for her sitting with Daniel Carrillo at his Georgetown studio. Emily's partner David Golightly and I joked around, assisted Dan, watched, and otherwise occupied ourselves while the more technical aspects of the day went on. Truthfully, it was my second time down for a shoot - I'd had my own set of shots done a few weeks prior and this time was as fascinating and informative experience as the first.

Daniel's project started out as an exploratory exercise in a technique he thought was really cool, but now it's turning into a truly concrete documentation of Seattle art history. I'm hopelessly in love with this idea, and Carrillo's recording is an intimate, quiet, slightly reverent, certainly nurturing and tender capture. For the nervous, his easy demeanor and ability to coax the hyper into relaxing for the camera is a soothing balm. For the confident, his adept ability to keenly direct one's eyes and flatter with lights only makes the beautiful shine even brighter.

There's another, larger reason I'm into this project. If you've been reading a while, you know I'm a supporter of New York artist Matt Held's Facebook Portrait project, now in it's second phase. I wrote a bit about how portraiture is gaining new significance in the age of social networking, and how documentation has changed in regards to who's posing and who's holding. I'm seeing something of a loose kinship between Held and Carrillo, but through almost opposite means. Matt captures moments of people's self-documentation by painting either a flash-lit arm's length shot or candid paparazzi-style party photo - one which might have also been synthetically enhanced through Photoshop. Daniel is reintegrating the unhurried process of forcing a subject to sit still while the lens unflinchingly records every line and pore of their visage - completely un-enhanced by Photoshop. The common ground comes through how they both are utilising their networks through social media and both are changing the way we look at portraiture, whether it's through the exaggerated mirror of a meta-lens or bringing it right back to the beholder and beholden.

One thing Daniel mentioned during our shoot sticks with me as I look through all these portraits. He talked about how developing digital images is so different than more antiquated forms of photography. It's not that you don't still set up, plan ahead, and choose your shot carefully for digital work; it's that the slow technique of this process forces you to be even more deliberate and particular before you open the aperture. Every plate counts because wet plate collodion ambrotype isn't just measured in aesthetic value, but in time as well. Susanna Bluhm adresses this in her post about this series (she's wondering if it's different and I believe it might be):

"Generally, we relentless, digital-age, everyday photographers do a lot of self-editing. Facebook is flooded with head shots taken exactly one arm’s length away. Moving through the world with our cameras, we bask in the freedom to shoot hundreds of photos, trigger happy and swept up in the moment. So, with Daniel’s portraits, I’m struck by the way these subjects had no control over their resulting pictures. Their images were completely in the hands of the photographer, and in his ability to manipulate a complicated process. What results is an intricate vulnerability; an intimacy that you wouldn’t expect from a posed portrait shot over many seconds."

Above all else, I love how the process of wet plate collodion brings out the fierceness in everyone. Simply by virtue of the lens objectively gazing at us [gazing somewhere else] neutral and breathing, we are ourselves. Reflecting a metaphor of the lives we've lived, in these photos, time reveals our traits and the truth of who we are and how others see us is inescapably beautiful.

I've posted a Flickr set of images from Emily's shoot. Amanda Manitach and Emily Pothast have written a bit about their experience, Jen Graves included his work in today's piece on Seattle's New Guard dinner series, and Regina Hackett wrote a blurb in December. You'll be able to see a few of Daniel's portraits up this month at Some Space, but as there isn't an opening tonight you'll have to catch them another time when the shop is open (closed after 6 tonight for First Thursday). Upcoming later in February you will be able to catch this series at Gage Academy in the Entry Gallery:

Prints and Ambrotypes by Daniel Carrillo

February 26 - March 22

Artists’ Reception: Friday February 26, 6:00-8:00pm

Daniel's self portrait of himself, one of the first in the series

my view of the view of her viewing

Daniel's candid shot of me yakkin'

your turn - an open seat and a ton of potential

La Salamandra

2010-01-29T08:51:00.000-08:00

On mythos, trials by fire, and emerging unscathed (artists, take hope):

Cuando en incendios, que sediento bebo; mi corazón habita, y no es quemado

(For in the flames I so thirstily drink; my heart lives and is not burned)

Gratuitious Link Lists Are For Fun!

2010-01-25T16:29:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I freeze up because I want to cover a topic so thoroughly with obsessive research and detail that I end up hanging it up. Honestly, sometimes just navel gazing or talking about what I'm not talking about will/often does suffice. (yes I'm a self referential member of the human race)

But I like having fun too, so I'm going to try something new and briefly cover several superawesome things I've recently seen on my Google blogreader. I'm basically carrying over my posted links from Facebook and posting them C-Monster style (although she's a lot funnier than me). If this works, I might just make it a regular thing.

This week:

Legos for adults. (via) Not to be confused with ~~Legos~~ Danish Building Blocks for Nerds and Spurned Lovers.
HOLY CRAP LIONS (tours). An oldie but a goodie. I wouldn't want you to forget...
Did your favoured historical hero die of syphilis? More than likely! Amanda Manitach's new literary art blog features her heartbreakingly beautiful drawings of syphilitically "altered" genitalia and of the show, as well as decadently sewn or illustrated lamb's tongues.
Troy Gua's Monument is now up at Fulcrum Gallery in Tacoma. See Ryan Molenkamp's review and Amanda Manitach's review. Take a day trip, Tacoma's not half bad!
Do you find you have a hard time memorizing the infinite numerical content of Pi? Me too, but this song helps. You know. Just in case you need to whip this information out at the next of many math-nerd parties you regularly attend.
Speaking of nerds...Metrix Create:Space is a [relatively] new hacker cafe in Seattle's Capitol Hill neighborhood. Among the services they provide that I find particularly attractive is their resident Makerbot. You can bet I'll be taking advantage of this soon. More information here.
And even more nerds... to me it's not as much about nerds not "getting" contemporary art (in fact I'd argue they get it even better than most) as it is about Slashdot being largely populated by trolls in much the same way as the SLOG. (via Jen Graves)
Sound artist Andreas Bick's blog Silent Listening features a recording of sound wave dispersion in ice sheets which absolutely blew my mind - I can't stop clicking play. Please go through this blog as much as you can and immerse yourself in the beauty of his hard work.
Go see The Frye Museum's current show featuring Tim Rollins and KOS: A History. More from me to come on this exhibit, but in the meantime you can read Joey Veltkamp's review of the show and Lucas Deon Spivey's introspective post about education and art on his blog Meaning in Art. Regina Hackett discusses Tim Rollins' swimming upstream. Jen Graves touches on the political side of KOS.
Beccy Ridsdel's dissected china cups and plates, complete with hardware. Beautiful!
Naoko Ito's gorgeous jartree installations. Gala Bent likes it too, and how could you not? There's something sweet and wistful in this attempt to capture something that can't be contained in anything as confining or worldly as a jar.

Last but not least:

Seattle, please welcome New York art writer Robert Ayers. You can add his blog A Sky Filled with Shooting Stars to your reader/blogroll, as well as read his article on Artdish about Euan MacDonald's current show at Western Bridge.

Do you have any links of cool stuff you'd like to share?

Naoko Ito Ubiquitous (Urban Nature series) 2009 jar, tree

CAB Starts a New Series on Studio Process

2010-01-23T10:48:00.000-08:00

This week, City Arts Blog began a new artists' series "from the worktable" called "What R U Working On?", wherein featured artists write a bit about their studio practise. I was delighted at the invitation to participate since as you know, discussing and demystifying the process is what I'm all about.

I've been thinking a lot on this prior (antiquated) but still practised idea of the artist's private studio. I know the perceived historical tradition is to sequester one's self away in a tower and feverishly work until it's done so that the Grand Reveal blows the minds of the public away. Of course I'm being glib - after all, how many eyes witnessed public works such as the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (an easy historical reach), the Hagia Sophia, or any other number of works-in-progress which artists may have exposed over time to curious eyes? I can only speculate. The Vatican isn't exactly public domain and at a certain point, even such a piece of art as the Hagia Sophia is simply architecture being built over time.

Closer to the point, I was thinking of how more contemporary individuals might deal with the (seemingly) uncomfortable idea of revealing their studio while they're in the midst of a production frenzy; or revealing a piece before it's done. What if the work is judged before you've reached your idea of its completion? What if you're judged on the state of your chaotic or overly meticulous studio? For many, working is a private and personal act, where the time spent in one's head is the same as time spent at the table/easel/printing press/dark room/computer/so on. Letting people into that space is admittedly very intimate. You'd better have a lot of either a] belief in yourself and/or b] belief and trust in whomever you've let in.

This week, I'm preparing for a studio visit with a group of peers, and this issue is even more prevalent in my thoughts. I'm in the middle of some new work I'm unsure about, it's in its fledgling stage and I don't have my usual exuberant confidence because I'm still researching the ideas/titles and slogging through the process of actually making it. And yet here I am, willing to reveal that much - is this common? I would argue it isn't. I would even argue that it's looked down on like, don't reveal that you're human and that these things take time and they're awkward and they don't go smoothly and there are all these questions about it.

Well I am [human], and my purpose here is to explain that art doesn't just come from the Divine, nor does it suddenly appear complete and resolute on a gallery wall, nor does it come cheap, free, or easy; it costs:

money, time, freedom, worry, confidence, sacrifice, friends, lovers, jobs, sanity, teeth, coffee, and in some cases, therapist bills.

I'm not just hoping to preach to the chorus - I'm hoping to express to people who may not even consider themselves "professional" (or) "artists" that there isn't really any difference in anything we're doing. Apply that to what you spend your time doing every day and you'll see what I mean; career tasks, hobbyist, weekend artist, or full time professional - we're all (hopefully) spending our lives pouring our heart into something outside of pouring our time into a day job. We just might call it something different. My point is to demonstrate that it's all legitimate, and it might even all be art.

Chimaera, detail, 2009, unfinished, Strathmore Drawing Roll

Public Works in the Seattle Municipal Tower and Beyond

2009-12-29T10:20:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-12-15T09:23:00.000-08:00

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, J ørgen 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

Recent Press - News Flash! Art is for Kids!

2009-11-17T09:24:00.000-08:00

I'd like to share some recent press for We Built This To Leave at Vermillion, where I'm showing with Ryan Molenkamp and Trevor Johnson:

Jen Graves' SLOG post, Currently Hanging.

Emily Pothast's thoughtful preview of the show on her blog, Translinguistic Other.

Joey Veltkamp's blog, Best Of - both a preview of the show and interview with me posted yesterday!

Susanna Bluhm's blog, Getting to Know You Better, a response to Joey's post.

And from what was probably one of the funnest interactions I've ever had at an art show, a post about kids and art written by Ryan's sister Carrie. You see? Art is easy. Kids get it. You walk up to it, you count the rows, you put your face in it, you interact and find the wonder.

A huge thanks goes out to everyone who has made it to see the show and or written about it, your support is greatly appreciated! Thank you!

If you've missed it, don't worry - We Built This To Leave is up until the end of the month!

Vermillion Art Gallery Wine Bar
1508 11th Ave (Pike and 11th in the heart of Capitol Hill)
Exhibition will be on display Nov 6th - 29th

On Pieces That Are Surprises But More Like Bridges; and an Updated Photo Gallery

2009-11-17T08:39:00.000-08:00

Now that the show is up, I've been taking some time to relax. Last weekend I ran over to Vermillion to get a few shots of the work, and have just posted them over on my page of recent works.

I'm particularly excited about Harbinger, shown below. There's a point in your process where you hit something magical. The work is changing, and so are you, and there's no telling where either of you will go together. This one is particularly special. As I was cutting these long strips, in all senses actually eviscerating the paper; I started thinking about what we give and take from each other in relationships (friends, lovers, commerce, art). We're in a constant negotiation of carving, pinning, taking, giving, ripping, tearing, gluing, building. Some have mentioned it reminds them of Rapunzel, which I find apt - hair trailing down the edge of a tower. What did she really expect to get in return for bearing his weight, what was he really after while pulling on those tresses? We each carry a bizarre set of expectations and compromises.

My friend Joel says this is a mean piece but not in a mean way. He meant that it's a cruelty to tear out the heart of something and leave it hanging by a thread. He's right. But I just think it's truthful. What else is there but to give all of ourselves to anything, to everyone? If we laid ourselves bare to each other, there would be little room left for confusion or dishonesty; I am here for these reasons, I am going after these things.

On that naked bare wall, shining bright beneath a frame and the trailing vestiges of its covering lies true beauty. I can't wait to see where this new work takes me.

Harbinger Rives Heavyweight 2009

Harbinger (detail) Rives Heavyweight 2009

We Built This to Leave; Sharon Arnold, Ryan Molenkamp, and Trevor Johnson

2009-11-04T11:45:00.000-08:00

It's done, it's hanging, and it's ready to go for your viewing pleasure. After six long months of bending my head over new work, I can lift myself up and take satisfaction in a job well done.

I'd like to invite you to come out to Vermillion this Friday Nov 6th for our long awaited show We Built This To Leave, featuring Ryan Molenkamp , Sharon Arnold, and Trevor Johnson.

We've been working hard, we're super excited, and we're very much looking forward to seeing you all there!

We built this for us, we built this for you, we built this to leave.

Vermillion
1508 11th Ave (Pike and 11th in the heart of Capitol Hill)
Opening reception Nov 6 6-11pm
Exhibition will be on display Nov 6th - 29th

Sharon Arnold 20 B/p/M ink, Rives Heavyweight 2009

Ryan Molenkamp, Sharon Arnold, Trevor Johnson
installation view at Vermillion, 2009

Sketchpad Notes, on Undergrowth

2009-10-19T09:31:00.000-07:00

un·der·growth \ˈən-dər-ˌgrōth\
n.

1. Low-growing plants, saplings, and shrubs beneath trees in a forest.

2. A growth of short, fine hairs underlying the longer and thicker outer hairs of an animal's coat; underfur or underwool.

3. The condition of being less than fully grown.
4. The detritus which crowds the truth in a piece of art being created.

"the clarity of the well marked path is sterile. to find the path, to
follow it, to examine it, and to clear away the tangled undergrowth; that
is sculpture."

--Guiseppe Penone

what's left behind are only the necessary details 19 November 2009

Behind the Scenes, as Well As the Times

2009-10-09T09:18:00.000-07:00

I realise that for some, a lack of consistent posting either in time or subject can result in blogger death. For example, Penelope Trunk of Brazen Careerist recently admonished those of us who are scattered and remiss, and I had to laugh because really, the only point of this blog is to talk about anything related to art and well, that's a... widely cast net.

But while she makes a few good points about blogs without a point, artists-as-bloggers are a different breed. One could argue that like many ~~bloggers~~ ~~companies~~ ~~entities~~ (whatever), we're pushing a product - ourselves - but I believe we're also using this as a supplement to our studio practise. This blog and what I write about reflects who or what I'm looking at and how, and in a way, demonstrates how it's feeding my work. While the best writing always comes from what affects us the most, for me, that's going to be quite an eclectic variety of things and uh, may or may not include some good writing. Neither good nor bad writing are happening currently, but when this blog is quiet you can trust I'm working overtime in the studio and I'll have something to say relatively soon. Good and bad. [we're smiling, here]

For now as I endure my self-imposed art-producing exile, I look forward to my coming freedom and return to the keyboard some time in November, with possibly erratic bursts of verbal enthusiasm throughout the next three weeks.

Dear reader, bear with us artists-sometimes-writers. We're a wistful lot, torn between dayjobs, harebrained ideas, overanalytical processes, and daydreaming. And sometimes writing. But mostly dreaming.

Indian Head Test Card! Please Stand By....This is Only a Test.....
image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

The Devil's in the Details

2009-10-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

Footing, installation diagram 2009
scanned image of a pencil and ink sketch

Where I've Been, What I'm Doing

2009-09-25T11:12:00.000-07:00

So I haven't been posting much for the last month or so because I'm working on a monster of a piece for two upcoming shows, the first of which will be next Thursday 1 October - Dig: SOIL Invitational 2009. I'm ready to go for this one, as I've already completed over half the monster!

But now I'm hauling ass to finish the full installation of Footing for November (more on that later). Right now I've completed eight rolls out of twelve. And if I'm lucky enough to have time left, I can't wait to start a new project I'm excited about. Wish me the best, I'm going to need it! (almost there, I'm almost there)

sketch of a sketch of a sketch (the more detailed the better)
Footing, pencil and ink model sketch 2009

The goods, in print

The Brilliant Line, featured on RISD's Museum of Art

2009-09-21T08:21:00.000-07:00

Art Fag City came up with an interesting link this morning, a feature titled Analyze This, part of an exhibition at Rhode Island School of Design titled The Brilliant Line. If you're an art history nerd, this website is a light pleasure, something akin to a snack (I imagine the exhibition is a little more in depth). If you're a print nerd, this is sheer delight, although it doesn't compare to standing in front of the actual print, your gloved hands holding a magnifying glass which you try not to drop on the ancient print out of excitement. Alright well, now you know something about my experiences in museums. Guards are suspicious of me from the minute I walk in - people are rarely as excited about these old things as I clearly am. (I squeal, I really do. I don't know the meaning of composure!) Given we don't have the prints right in front of us, this is the next best most accessible thing. Which is of course, what I love about it.

Here you are treated to several different levels of analysis. First, there's a small blurb on the artist and the work next to a selected print. At that point, you can mouse over the print as you would a magnifying glass. In this way you're allowed to inspect the lines and crosshatching in a fair amount of detail, but then! Click the small square on the upper right which beckons you to "analyze lines" and you're directed to a page where you can layer the crosshatching at four different levels to reveal the engraver's technique, adding value, shade, and contour to the image. Each artist has similar but varying technique, and it's fun to scroll through them all and investigate.

The site also features a video of Andrew Raftery re-creating the old-school engraving technique, complete with wax and burin.

Oh holy nerd heaven! It's a shame I have to work today, I really want to go print something instead.

Anyway my favoured master printer Hendrick Goltzius is markedly absent from this small collection of samples but he is mentioned in Jan Harmensz. Muller's profile, which makes sense seeing as how Muller was not only a supposed apprentice to Goltzius but he was almost equally as dramatic and shall we say, quirky, in his representations.

As with all things that make art accessible to everyone, I'm a fan.

Phaeton, from the series The Four Disgracers, 1588
Engraved by Hendrick Goltzius (Dutch, 1558–1617) after Cornelis Cornelisz van Haarlem (Dutch, 1562–1638)
Engravings; first state of three; Diam. about 13 in. (33.1 cm)
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

You Want You Need You Have to Have

2009-09-15T11:41:00.000-07:00

Artist Joey Veltkamp is on top of the danger products. I wanted to know the paradoxical outcome of a vampire-repellant Crucitrix against Count Chocula. Would it work and would there be explosions involved? Does a vanquished cereal vampire die in a violent burst of bottom-of-the-box sugardust?

Of course I'm partial to these Man Eating Pits, because I love a little Monstrous Feminine with my breakfast. My favourite is for some reason, Anaphylaxis. Maybe because bees are involved. Maybe because nothing shouts DANGER better than a black and yellow "danish building block" combination.

Danger. Do not Kiss the Bees. You will Die.
image courtesy of www.igotyouamaneatingpit.com

But I have to tell you. As much as I love the MEPs, what I really have to have is a tabletop dedicated to this Tron Light Cycle re-creation. The tails aren't nearly long enough-- I want trails glowing for miles.

2x4's Light Cycles
image borrowed from 2x4's Flickr stream

What Scientists Should Really Get

2009-09-10T12:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I listened to Chris Mooney, Unscientific America on KUOW's Speaker's Forum.

He read a fantastic quote from Matthew Chapman, a screenwriter in NYC and apparently great-great-grandson of Charles Darwin:

"...instead of being derided as geeks or nerds, scientists should seen as courageous realists and the last great heroic explorers of the unknown. They should get more money, more publicity, better clothes, more sex, and free rehab when the fame goes to their heads."

Dear scientists of the world,

You will forever and always be among my greatest heroes.

Mooney's talk is interesting enough that I might have to pick up the book. Mostly the discussion is on the level of our country's scientific literacy, or lack thereof. He has a humorous anecdote in regards to science fiction movies. I'm all for including the "impossible" or "unrealistic" in any and all fiction -- after all it's fiction -- but his point that it's neither demonstrative of our actual place in technological history, nor is it exactly respectful of actual science, is apt.

Even more full of awesome, I've been savouring Carl Sagan's Cosmos series on Hulu.com, in order from the beginning and highly, highly recommend watching it again. All these years later the music still kind of blows me away, and the opening scene still fills me with the same awe and wonder I felt as a kid. The power of Carl Sagan, and really any compelling scientist, is how he weaves and wraps philosophy into his science. And in fact, I find the most compelling people in any field do the same.

And even though the material is a little out-dated and unfolds slowly, I'm no less inspired as I sew endless rows while Sagan untangles the mysteries of the universe before my eyes.

millions and trillions and billions of stars;
Carl Sagan brings home the unfathomable

The Baby Seal Club's Portrait Challenge

2009-09-01T08:31:00.000-07:00

For some time now, Ryan Molenkamp and his co-artists/workers have passed the time drawing fantastical portraits from magazine clippings. We rarely have the opportunity to see these amazingly creative sketches, but believe me they're fun. They embody a kind of visual equivalent to the game telephone - each frame bounces off the previous, into the next, and is characteristically altered by the draftsman's perspective.

Ryan had a show of the portraits in May at The Baby Seal Club - a shared studio space in the 619 Western Building. You can read a little about the show on Another Bouncing Ball. However visually awesome the portraits were in rows on the wall, the really fun part was the interactivity. Visitors got to participate with pencil or pen on tables set up in the hallway and try it out for themselves. Can their wit match the formidable talent on the wall? Why not try? (I'm kicking myself for not sitting down for a quick sketch)

Perhaps you're bummed out now, because you missed it? Never fear! Ryan has started posting scans of the Portrait Challenge on Flickr. He says:

I know it is not as cool as a dedicated website, or as cool as the book I'm planning...but still you can enjoy them. I've only got like 3% done, so be patient!

Don't worry, it's pretty cool. Some things are definitely worth the wait, and these days on the internet, it's fun to have something to go back/look forward to.

Elton John and possible candidate for a brother, Goooooggles
All models for the Portrait Challenge 2009
images borrowed from Ryan Molenkamp and the Baby Seal Club

I Had My Facebook Portrait Painted by Matt Held

2009-08-24T08:53:00.001-07:00

I first heard about Matt Held's Facebook portrait project in January, through Sharon Butler's blog Two Coats of Paint. She showed us a painting of herself in dappled light with a forward expression; beautifully painted in these opaque layers of buttery glaze. After reading his description of the project, I was completely sold. In fact, I completely art-nerded out.

Art historians like to talk a lot about the Gaze. What is the gaze, who is gazing, why are they gazing - or if you want to get really fancy, who is watching (flâneur) and who is being watched (fl â neuse). If art seems bourgeois and out of reach to a lot of people, it's no wonder. Art in the modern age is inherently bourgeois. It takes time - time to watch, make, appreciate, and think about. When art for art's sake took hold of Western culture, working people were understandably resentful. (that's just an example, I'm not saying the French Revolution started because of portraiture, although that would be a fun claim to make) Meanwhile, for those who could afford to spend, portraiture was the utmost in bourgeoisie -- who among us is vain, rich, and/or bored enough to have a dryly realistic large format painting of them basking in a dim light hanging prominently on the wall? Well, truthfully it's been the utmost in bourgeoisie going back to the beginning*. But that's beside the point. We're talking about the holder of the Gaze, and who's looking. To make a long story short, it's changing. Drastically.

In the age of social networking, we are flâneur et flâneuse all at once. I'm watching you watch me watching you, Twittering about it, and uploading the photo I've just taken of the aforementioned scene onto Facebook; where, if it's fitting to the project, you might send it to Matt Held and he'll paint it.

Naturally, this project appealed to my vanity. I joined the group and sent a Facebook message immediately - why did I think he would choose me? I didn't know, but I hoped to be part of it. Here was a chance to see how someone else sees me (talk about the utmost in vanity). So if I don't get the painting to hang on my wall for myself, what's the reward?

Participation. Connectivity. I was shy, but excited. Here's this artist in New York, challenging himself but at the same time, challenging the idea of portraiture and how we're all changing what it means, together. And I suspended ownership of my vanity when I clicked send on the email. Matt would choose the photo or not, and the representation of myself was out of my hands. Who would I be to the artist and to the rest of the world when they saw me?

Matt chose a photo my friend Miram Berger took when she was visiting from New York. An accomplished painter herself, she was click-clicking the shutter on her camera as I self-consciously moved through a comical ritual, mostly mocking the size of my nose. It was a fun day - breakfast in Fremont, drizzling rain and nothing to do but spend time with a good friend. Through Matt's lens it became a bright and beautifully rendered painting filled with colour. It shows a silly girl with blue-black hair and thick glasses, mock-picking her nose. What's her story, anyway?

And there's the clincher of the New Portraiture. We're invited into the scene, the stories are curious, and the pictures are snapshots of real lives; often drafted by the subject themselves. We want to know more about them, most likely because we are like them. Rather than some lofty idealised representation of culturally enforced perfection, potraiture has become not only an exaggeration of the idea but also a Cinéma vérité, a hipster editorial, a perversion, a study in heightened banality, an idea of excess, a reflection of ourselves; or at it's best, a really fun study of people finding each other in a living web of connectivity.

"Matt Held: facebook portraits" is on view September 10 through October 3, 2009 in Denise Bibro's Platform Project Space.

"Sharon A" Matt Held 2009

Copyright 2009 Matt Held and Held Studios. All rights reserved.

*thanks to Matt Held for that fabulous and almost hysterical link, which so perfectly dovetails with this post.

Hiccup, Hiatus, Hurray

2009-08-20T10:12:00.001-07:00

Blogging during a Seattle summer is nearly impossible - we Seattleites are usually so starved for actual summertime weather that we tend to run around in manic circles. This year is an epic presentation of a textbook summer. Circles are only getting more frenetic as I try to absorb as much as I can while working full time and trying to crank out work in the studio. At 128 feet a roll (4 and a half done, 8 and a half to go) and skeins upon skeins of yarn, I'm keeping myself busy. More to come on that, I promise.

So I usually leave the link lists to pros like C-Monster, Regina Hackett, and Jen Graves; but I thought I'd give you a list of cool things, not the least among them, what to do in the event of a zombie attack - the scientific method. If your thirst for blood isn't sated, we could go to war at sea. Or you could crawl through the belly of Godzilla, fallen to earth.

Maybe the apocalypse isn't your thing, and you would rather take a tour with Joey Veltkamp through his favourite work at SAM. You might want to read this eloquent write-up on Target Practice by Susanna Bluhm first. I also recommend perusing through Sharon Butler's new photo blog, @Bushwick & Main. And who knows? You might even get inspired enough to borrow art from the Art Lending Library and put some on your wall. And when you're done with that, go see Emily Pothast sing a song or two. Or you can watch Helsinki Syndrome perform the Importance of Being Ernest - you have two chances left and tonight they're at Crawl Space gallery!

And lastly, most magically, tonight is Lullaby Moon. They are mysteriously suggesting to look for them along First Avenue in downtown Seattle, beginning about 7:45. Absolutely dreamy.

And me? I'll either be running around soaking up what's left of summer so I have something to get me through the winter, or feverishly sewing through miles of paper while hummingbirds serenade me from the back yard.

mischievous bunnies, picture borrowed from Lullaby Moon's website

I Admit to Falling In the Middle, if not the Far Right

2009-08-09T16:40:00.000-07:00

What's the point of anything if we can't make fun of ourselves first? I've said some things in the past about art writing, but the truth is it's always me I'm talking about. I'm the asshole with Baudrillard, Lacan, and Derrida on my coffee table like some kind of overly enthusiastic first year college student - and I confess, they are there without irony but with complete sincerity. I love this shit but it's a balancing act. So I continue to write in the hopes of getting a conversation welcome to everyone but without a lowest common denominator, and where I don't get tagged by the artbaloney blog, casting scathing mirth in my direction. After all, I like art and I like talking about it. Most importantly, I want you to talk about it. Even if it's exhausting at times, and we would prefer to look at some pretty moving pictures once in a while or even better, play an online video game for which we would get a lot more mockery than anything I've ever written about art.

I digress. C-Monster gets to the point and says it best. The slogan of her blog is where high gets low. Sure she can say that, but she's still referencing the same history any art writer would. It's inescapable. Once you're in, you're an insider. And if you're laughing at any of this, then you'll see you fall on one part of the diagram or another. I fell square in the realm of middle with a hard lean towards douche. That's what you get for being a semiotics and theory nerd. Let's face it, if there's a nerd heirarchy, I'm at the bottom. That's ok. Not all the power is at the top. I'm sure C-Monster is laughing too, seeing where she stands in the midst of that diagram. Who wouldn't be?

The question is, where are you, and are you laughing?

C-Monster's Art Venn Diagram of Doom

Greg Lundgren's Arbitrary Art Grant in Writing

2009-08-06T09:47:00.000-07:00

Today, Greg Lundgren wants you to help write about a ping pong ball. On Vital 5's blog he states: "We write the first sentence on our blog, participants write the rest. Your post is your application."

Your post. Is. Your application.

I love this idea. It's the perfect degree of interactivity in real time, taking shape as a blog comment. Over the course of the day, we'll see the story grow, build, devolve, and change shape. Who will win? How will they win? Does it even matter who wins?

This is the best of the bunch, in my opinion. As all Arbitrary Art Grants do, the writing grant presents a level playing field, an equal opportunity for failure, success, participation, fun, and visibility. Somehow, this one just hits the sweet spot even more. I type, I click, repeat again as necessary (or not).

Vital 5 is opening up its story-time commentary, already in progress, from 9-5 today on the website.

Rachel Budde at Breeze Block Gallery, Portland OR

2009-08-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

I have to confess, I love New York artist Rachel Budde's ever-darkening skies. It's a shame I don't have links to older work, but she's always had an edge. Historically (deceptively) sweet, her protagonists echoed a time when Diane Arbus was king and carnivals held us in a mystified spell. They were almost welcoming, save for knives hidden under their skirts and dark piercing eyes.

Budde's work has always rooted itself in street art, taking notes from Margaret Kilgallen, Barry McGee, and Swoon. Like much of the street art she references, she's creating a new world alongside or on top of the old one and with it, a history. These days, her work is separating itself from the street and its cleanly pinstriped inhabitants to explode into a full fledged universe of beautiful and terrifying creatures, [un]sacred myths, and parables. And that universe is literally pouring out of the bodies of her newest creatures, currently in mid-shift from pro- to an-tagonistic positions. They dance wildly like incomprehesibly gigantic, galactic Baba Yagas or Muma Păduriis; heads detached, too many eyes, hands waving, wielding cumbersome obelisks for phalluses. Their spell is less about mystifying us, and more about upending our comfortable interpretation of myth and symbolism. These stories are present in our everyday lives -- after all, we've created them. But over time, we lose our connection as we forget what they mean. Rachel Budde, should her creatures emerge from the hidden world to the one we occupy, will show us the way back to them.

We need richness in our inner mythology so that the soul, or psyche, doesn’t get caught in stereotypes and miss the deeper archetypal presences. We need plural images and textured stories because the soul is plural, and many images can capture its multiple transformations and metamorphoses. Rather than blazing goodness facing off against unspeakable evil, we need flawed heroes and complex villians worthy of redemption.

–Dr. Stephen Larsen, The Fundamentalist Mind, 2007. pp. 84-85.
-- quote borrowed from Emily Pothast, Where Have All the Tricksters Gone?, because she is one hell of an authority on art and spiritualism/mythology

Rachel Budde will be showing her work during Portland's First Thursday art walk, 7 August at Breeze Block Gallery.

Rachel Budde, Eagle/Pigeon 2007
12" x 15" gouache and ink on paper

Rachel Budde, Severed Cosmos 2009
from the infinite manifestation series. 4" x 5" gouache on paper

Breeze Block Gallery, Portland OR

Troy Gua, Do You See Me? (Yes Troy, Clear As the Day)

2009-08-04T12:40:00.000-07:00

Troy Gua is asking if you see him. Visibility matters, and he wants to gauge the depth of your vision and his - can you see past a cultivated persona to get to the human beneath?

To borrow a phrase from someone dear, genuine identity is everything or nothing in a world where backspace is king. As a culture, we're blogged, MySpaced, Facebooked, and Photoshopped to death, learn how to pose from America's Next Top Model, and how to act (or not) from celebrities and reality TV. Through the internet we have an ultimate window into the worlds of others - our voyeurism is candid and shameless. But while spying, we control the window through which we're seen. We can impress, seduce, compare, ask, claim or do just about anything. In this case, after we get through “Do You See Me?” we might have to address “Do You Know Me?”

At first glance, knowing isn't the important part. The name, or as Troy deftly points out, the label is the important part. We're living in a world of self-made brands. Recently I was talking with a friend about Urban Outfitters as the one-stop-shop for an entire lifestyle. It's scary. The UO brand could feasibly become a personal one, from the books on the shelf and art on the wall to the comb in your hair and shoes on your feet. With each successive click of the edit (or checkout) key, we create a more personalised brand .

Despite this branding, it seems that once an entire culture starts going down the backspace/edit route, anonymity emerges. There are so many faces, so much content that the internet is an ocean of people we see every day without any idea who they really are. Think of the busiest street/bus/train you've ever used on a regular basis, like say, your morning commute. If you multiply this in the context of social media, it becomes a factorial equation. Our networks are larger than they have ever been, reaching farther across the globe than ever before. If you see someone you've never met, will you ever really know them? Does it matter? Is your interaction as relevant as if you were standing face to face? I would argue that it may not be as profound (though it might be), but it is no less significant a connection.So it's possible to say that if you see me, then eventually, you might know me. But only if you (I) want (you) to.

Troy is pulling in his networks to yield a bounty, creating a map, and tracking his success. In this show he reveals inevitability -- the veneer pulls away from the core, imperfections emerge, the person behind the mask comes forward by virtue of being who they are. Unlike his Pop Hybrid series which is graphic, slick, and pure fantasy, Gua's newest portraits are messy and contend with reality; actual and imagined.

The entire show is filled with an almost heartbreaking sense of humour - a blank Facebook portrait in thick impasto, a riff on the Shepard Fairy poster stating "Your Face Here", blanked out yearbook portraits titled "Of Course I Remember You (fingers crossed behind back)", and one of my favourites, "Labels". These all point at some aspect of brand and personality culture in a keenly observant way. Labels have become absolutely proprietary. You can define a geek, nerd, dork, artist, actor, model, techie, [fill in the blank] to such extent that personality itself becomes didactic. All these pieces are sharp, but his greatest successes are found in two different places - glossy large scale portraiture and a small unassuming bowl of signed and dated labels.

The large-scale portraits are of important people in his life - his wife Catherine Gua, Joey Veltkamp, Diana Adams, Greg Lundgren, and of course, himself. Immediately you can see the resin pulling away from the plywood, leaking between tiles to reveal a grid. The work looks messy, but the people are calm and beautiful. Half of each are hidden behind whitewash; foggy and obscured enough for you to project a possibility. The other half is raw, up-close, imperfect, and undeniably a person looking back at you with their own identity. It's what we all do; cultivate a projection and slowly emerge as time peels back the layers.

But the biggest punch was delivered by a small bowl of hand-made pins, each generically titled "LABEL" in a different font (no two alike, of course). The genius of this subversive grab bag was that it didn't appear to be a main piece of work in the show, probably because it was so unassuming and approachable, but it was clearly designed to be about you. All night, a throng of people gathered around the pedestal seeking the generic label which identified them best. Was the attraction because they would take home a free piece of art or was it because this presented them another opportunity to brand themselves? Which font represented who they were or who they wanted to be? I looked up from my frenzied digging to notice almost everyone in the packed gallery had their own "unique" generic label pinned proudly to their chest. As we all do, every day.

You have one week left to see Troy Gua's work at Vermillion Gallery on 11th Ave E, Capitol Hill. Hours are 4- "late", every day but Monday.

Troy Gua, Labels
acrylic on vinyl, dimensions variable
image courtesy of the artist

Troy Gua, Of Course I Remember You (Fingers Crossed Behind Back)
acrylic on 171 individual 6 x 9" panels
image courtesy of the artist

Troy Gua, Do You See Catherine?

digital transparencies, enamel, and resin on wood panel 48 x 48 x 1”
image courtesy of the artist

Jets Zooming Overhead, Politics, And a Small Perspective; Slightly Shifted

2009-07-30T10:34:00.000-07:00

Few things turn me into a giggling weak-at-the-knees blithering schoolgirl as the Blue Angels do. The minute I hear that distant roar tear the fabric of the sky, my heart races; I feel faint, and trembling, I look skyward.

This morning as I watched them fly low over the hills of Montlake towards Lake Washington, I got so excited I nearly fell off my front porch.

I grew up with them, sitting on my back porch every August watching them climb to the very ceiling of the planet and drop down, perilously fast. Seconds later, they would fly overhead so close in formation I swore I could see the shit-eating grin of the pilot, perhaps amused at the small girl dancing from foot to foot below him.

Every year I'm saddened by all the people who misunderstand the pure joy of this performance. There's no crime in displaying or admiring the might and raw power of technology in an air show. I understand and likely share part of an opinion on the military, our nation, and all the problems of our consumerist society, but the military is not the inherent problem-- it's just a tool. The crime is in who is using/misusing it and how/how not.

I don't pull this card often, but I'm pulling it now. There was never a time more terrifying or filled with relief as when I saw military jets flying low over me and the Manhattan skyline at 9:25am 9/11/01. You never think there will be a time when they're needed, you never think there will be a time when seeing them in real action is going to be a good thing, but it can be. It doesn't matter whether or not they were useful that day, whether or not they were necessary; none of the politics of that day matters. What matters is how people felt to see them. It was alienating, sobering, surreal, and in a weird way, comforting. I couldn't have been more glad they were there.

Sometimes, these things are necessary. The jets, the pilots, the tanks, the entire military is not the enemy. The administration who is using them sometimes can be. The point being, the problems of our nation and the performance of military machines have very little to do with one another.

The Blue Angels (in and of themselves) are simply super shiny super fast jets which have never seen combat. Enjoy it now and try to remember to have fun before we run out of fossil fuels and never get to see their brilliance again.

image courtesy of seafair.com

Capitol Hill, Cupcake Art, and Meter Maids

2009-07-22T09:44:00.001-07:00

Last night, like many other curious Seattlites, I ventured to the top of the Hill to check out the new Cupcake Royale's art opening. While I've still managed to somehow not eat one of their famous cupcakes, I wasn't disappointed.

Earlier this month, Joey Veltkamp let us know they would be opening with a bang - design by Roy McMakin and Ian Butcher of Domestic Architecture; art by Claudia Fitch, Ken Kelly, Jeffry Mitchell and Joey Veltkamp. The works fill the space in a lovely way - it doesn't look out of place and it fits. And while I'm aware there are cupcakes in the case it doesn't seem strange that there's fancy art on the wall. After this location's first run is over, Veltkamp will be taking over for curatorial duties not just for the Capitol Hill location, but for the other three stores as well. Congratulations Joey!

Being the world's worst blogger, I don't have pictures because I don't have a camera right now. How awesome is that? I'll start posting links when photos start popping up in other places. [edit] Jen Graves is on top of it! And so is Joey...

In the meantime, maybe the suspense will inspire you to run over there and see it for yourself. Take it from me, the space is very well done -- lofty ceilings, smooth laquered surfaces, beautiful (colourful) furniture, stained glass, and lots of sprinkles prominently displayed. How can you go wrong?

Now about meter maids. You see these all over Capitol Hill, agressively double-parked and busily distributing paper handouts; but how often do you see them parked inside a space, out of their element and on your turf? Quilted, soft, and non-threatening, Paul Margolis' I Imagined Myself as a Meter Maid had previously been on display at the Bellevue Art Museum but now it needs a home of its own. Margolis' wife Mandy Greer has been offering it up for donation since December, and the offer still stands.

Artist and blogger Emily Pothast goes into more detail here. And a special art blog bonus - she's got a photo!

Mandy Greer's Mater Matrix Mother and Medium, Installation and Performance this Thursday

2009-07-13T08:01:00.001-07:00

It's about to happen - Mandy's 200 foot long crocheted river and performance by choreographer and dancer Zoe Scofield comes to fruition this Thursday night at Camp Long in West Seattle.

The focus of this installation is part of a group of temporary public art projects in Seattle, "Water Calling ”. To quote Mandy from her site:

This new work is commissioned by Seattle Public Utilities 1% for Art Funds, and administered by Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs, as a way to celebrate and interpret the splendor of Seattle’s urban creeks and encourage community involvement in the stewardship of our essential watersheds.

If I'm a brazen and unabashed champion of Mandy's project on this blog, it's with good reason.

People like me have come to know Mandy through her openness and invitation to join her in manifesting this project. She's offered public places as her studio, teaching young and old alike to crochet, discuss, connect, and learn. We've come to know her and her process a little better, but maybe we've also learned something about other artists or our own creativity. Most importantly, Mandy's project has built a community.

And through her work and Zoe's performance, we'll not only have a beautiful piece of art to enjoy but something to meditate on - sustainability, responsibility, and stewardship. The correlation is not lost - Mandy's work is about many things but it's also about caretaking and nurture. The flow of her project, the connection between the people involved, and a life-sustaining river flowing through woods connecting trees, ground, and sky is a beautiful metaphor.

Click on the links to read more about Water Calling and other artists involved in Seattle's summertime art installations. I'm excited about all of them, but keenly interested in John Grade's proposal for Volunteer Park, Mantle.

close up view of the river, Mandy Greer

image borrowed (taken by Jen Zwick) from her blog

Addendum to Mater Matrix Mother and Medium:

I neglected to add something really important to the last post's description of the event -- Mandy's installation and Zoe's performance will be accompanied by clarinet and megaphone music, created and performed by musician/composer Morgan Henderson!

From Mandy:

"The Performance, created by collaboration between myself, Zoe Scofield and Morgan Henderson is a hushed reflection on the subtle dynamics of the Forest embedded in the urban environment, at once organic as it is artificial. All three artists, in our own way, having responded to the quirky overgrown tranquility of Camp Long’s little pond, invite you to sit for a short time in quiet observation of the rhythms of this unusual site, heightening your focus through sound, movement, breath and site-responsive installation."

This really does just get better and better - make sure you don't miss it! This one night only performance by Zoe Scofield and Morgan Henderson will be this coming Thursday July 16th, 6:30 pm at Camp Long in West Seattle.

The Treachery of Blogging

2009-07-06T08:04:00.000-07:00

Blogging is a practise. It's a rather meta one at that, too. Blogging is a practise which speaks for and references to the practise. It's a work in practise. It's a work about the work. (it needs practise)

It has rules: you shouldn't start writing before you've had coffee (broken, this minute) but writing when drunk is perfectly acceptable and often humorous (probably still shouldn't). You should post every day (broken daily) if not multiple times a day (um...). You should provoke conversation (batting about average). You should reference other blogs (done obsessively). You should go join in conversations on other blogs to see what other people are saying. You should be smart, thoughtful, witty, insightful, silly, serious, proactive, reactive, first, or last. You should monitor your use of semi-colons, parenthesis, and emoticons (:|). You should be yourself (check).

Artists can have particular conflict in blogging. There's so much to say I've hardly the time to say it and criticism is tricky. Also I should be in the studio more often than on the computer (I'm eyeballing my table piled with fuzzy yarn just to the right of my mouse right now) . That might be a fallacy, maybe the writing and research is part of the studio practise but I'll get to that in a minute. And the words are themselves an uphill battle fraught with either too elite a tone or not elite enough. I don't have an example for that last one. Yet. But it needs to be accessible and it needs to be lucid.

I'm not the best at keeping up but it's important that I write. It seems I must. My fingers itch if I don't start typing about something, and I must have about ten different articles started that I intend to post. I just can't seem to shut up about it -- I'm always thinking and talking even if no one's around. This seems to have happened to George Orwell - here's an excerpt from his essay Why I Write:

As a very small child I used to imagine that I was, say, Robin Hood, and picture myself as the hero of thrilling adventures, but quite soon my ‘story’ ceased to be narcissistic in a crude way and became more and more a mere description of what I was doing and the things I saw. For minutes at a time this kind of thing would be running through my head: ‘He pushed the door open and entered the room. A yellow beam of sunlight, filtering through the muslin curtains, slanted on to the table, where a match-box, half-open, lay beside the inkpot. With his right hand in his pocket he moved across to the window. Down in the street a tortoiseshell cat was chasing a dead leaf’, etc. etc. This habit continued until I was about twenty-five, right through my non-literary years. Although I had to search, and did search, for the right words, I seemed to be making this descriptive effort almost against my will, under a kind of compulsion from outside. The ‘story’ must, I suppose, have reflected the styles of the various writers I admired at different ages, but so far as I remember it always had the same meticulous descriptive quality.

I don't want to put you through it, but like Orwell, there's a continuous narrative running through my head at all times. By narrowing it down and writing about the world I occupy, the art I see, the people I meet, and the aspects of my studio practise which interest me, I'm strengthening my artistic muscles. I'm honing the focus, and getting to the truth. I'm sorting through a myriad of problems and solutions. Through these words, I'm threading everything I've ever seen and written about into the paper with the yarn along with the thoughts and daydreaming and history; and hopefully carving out an ever-larger piece of that damned pie.

Why do you write? What do you write about? How does it influence, fortify, expand, inspire, or otherwise nurture everything else you do (art, programming, teaching, fill in the blank)?

Ceci n'est pas une pie thanks again to Shaun K.
And this is supposedly animated. Click on it!

Mandy Greer, Joshua Lindenmayer, and Gretchen Bennett at Seattle Art Museum Family Day

2009-06-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

This weekend Mandy Greer is having one more crochet meet-up, and hopefully I'll be going to help out with my pretty new crochet needles (I've been inspired, you might say)! Also, as if that's not exciting enough Gretchen Bennett will be there with young art star Joshua Lindenmayer giving temporary tattoos - I can attest to the beauty of her tattoo work, having had my own pink buffalo done earlier this year!

An excerpt from Mandy's Mater Matrix Mother and Medium blog:

SAM Family Programs have been a huge supporter of my project from hosting me at their Teen Art Attack evening to twice hosting me at family programs out at the Olympic Sculpture Park. I am so glad to go to this final event with them. The two programs out at the Sculpture Park were particularly wonderful, as I got to work, share my project, as well as spend time with my own child who often gets the shaft when I get so busy on large projects.

buzzz

(image linked from and courtesy of Mandy's site)

Here's the lineup:

SAM Family Programs: Don’t Miss the Summer Fun!
FAMILY DAY: BUST A MOVE
Presented by TARGET
Saturday, June 27, 10 am–3 pm
SAM Downtown

Make your move through outrageous obstacle courses designed for making art in new ways, like the artists in
Target Practice: Painting Under Attack 1949–78. Create collages, recycled art, stencils and see-through paintings. Design temporary tattoos with Joshua Lindenmayer and Gretchen Bennett. Crochet with Mandy Greer. See live painting demos with ArtWorks and Pratt Fine Arts Center.

LIVE PERFORMANCES
* Madcap toymaker Rick Hartman
* Hilarious Zambini Bros. puppet show
* Electrifying tapdancing by Northwest Tap Connection
* Feats by the School of Acrobatics and New Circus Arts
* Plus facepainting, storytelling and more!

Community Partnerships: Visit the Barnes & Noble Pacific Place store June 26–28 and a portion of your purchases will benefit SAM.

Shaun Kardinal @ Vermillion Gallery, Seattle -- or, How I've Learned to See Myself a Little Differently

2009-06-25T13:07:00.000-07:00

I've been hoping to talk about Shaun Kardinal's photography for some time, ever since I saw his work at SOIL and Howard House earlier this year. While he explores several themes in his work, he's currently focused on self portraiture. At first glance, one might make a mistake and think they've seen this obsessive self-documentation on MySpace and in first year art student portfolios, but one couldn't be more wrong - Kardinal's success is in the placement of the lens rather than his vanity. It's not as much a documentation of acts that are happening to him, as it is a purposeful recurrence of what has already happened. To whom it has happened is the question.

When looking at these photographs, I place myself squarely in the frame, replacing the subject. I'm remembering an event that may or may not have happened to me. I'm either not sure or don't know who's there, they haven't been revealed yet. Is it me or someone else? This effect is most successful in pieces which are larger or where the subject is angled more directly in front of the lens. Kardinal could be playing with voyeurism, which he's stated; but he seems more interested in tapping into our sense of sympathy or projection of self on the work. While these moments may have been about him in the beginning, I get the sense they are now less about him and becoming more about us.

I've started thinking of them as a kind of vision-- my seeing / the way we're seen by others / seeing the way we're seen by others. I've always had an obsessive curiosity about the volume of space I take up in the world and I still haven't figured it out. What do I look like to other people? What would I look like (or what would my life look like) if I saw myself through other people's eyes? It might be like this.

Perhaps it's the seemingly unimportant things that lead to our individual identity as a whole, the small everyday experiences which make us who we are. These experiences are universally quirky, awkward, private, peculiar, common. Kardinal's reflective reenactments are a meditation on the mundane -- I am here now in this space, this is what I am doing this morning, these are the things I do when I'm alone, these are the acts which make me who I am. Through his recorded performance he is invoking memory and revealing identity -- his, yours, and ours.

If you haven't stepped out to see it yet, I recommend going it this weekend before the show closes on 5 July. Shaun's work is up at the Vermillion Gallery, 11 Ave E, open every day but Monday from 4-"late"

Shaun Kardinal, Progression Lightjet C-Print, 2008. 20 x 20 inches
image courtesy of the artist

Shaun Kardinal, Go On I'm Listening, Lightjet C-Print, 2008. 20 x 20 inches
image courtesy of the artist

Clearing the Tangled Undergrowth and Getting to the Point

2009-06-18T12:16:00.000-07:00

So I've had this week off, and I've found it incredibly difficult to simply switch into a strict mode of eyes-forward, head-down, busy-hands.

I keep thinking "god, what's wrong with me? why can't I just sit down and GO?" And then I remember how I work forty to forty-five hours a week at my day job, if not more. Now I've got a problem, a conflict. Since I'm on vacation I want to do what working people want to do - I want to play.

I want to read a book, play in the grass, watch a movie, get lost in a video game, go to the mountains, look at art, clean up the house, take a walk, daydream, catch up on blogs and news on the internet, start and not finish about five different blog posts, stare out the window ...

I see this time as a working vacation but I can't just turn it on and get a full straight eight hours, no matter how hard I crack the whip. I'm not used to working that way - when do I ever have this kind of time? It feels dizzying, like standing at a great height looking down and I don't know how to get to the road five hundred feet below.

It turns out making a piece of work isn't the only thing that matters. I'm spending a lot of time working, it's just a different way of thinking about my career duties. After all, I've been researching artist grants, making a to-do list for upcoming membership applications and awards, checking out residency possibilities, updating my link list to the left, including my art blog list and CV. I've been researching ideas on the internet and reading up on what everyone else is doing via my GoogleReader feed (ok that was a bit gratuitous but you should read what I've been reading). Oh and let's not forget, I've been blogging.

Solace comes from asking other artists how they work, watching artists work and talk on PBS's art:21 series, and reading Joanne Mattera's awesome conversation about how we slice our veritable pie. Just knowing we're all busy and working it out has helped me simmer down immensely. The blissful side effect is that I simply get back to work.

So what about you? How are you working to maximise creativity in your daily life? If you made a chart, what would it look like?

In [Ch]Art Lies The Truth - maybe I should just get off the goddamned computer 12:50p 18 Jun 2009
I like how I conveniently left out the day job part . Also maybe I should sleep more.

Ok so this is my new and improved true-to-life technicolour graph based on hours in a week, in which I reveal
that I do in fact, sleep (much to my detriment)

And this is participant X's graph, in which they reveal that they do in fact "snugl"

Here's what you *don't* want to happen to your pie. Whatever you do. Don't do this.
Although its' kind of glittery, and juicy... Thanks go out to Shaun for this one!

Knitting & Networking, Craft & Conversation

2009-06-16T08:30:00.000-07:00

As Mandy Greer's project comes to a close, she's spending more of her time up at Camp Long installing her piece, Mater Matrix Mother and Medium and less time at the park or the library crocheting the river with friends and new acquaintances.

But! You do have one more chance to join her this Friday at the Renaissance Hotel in Seattle. From Mandy's blog:

Originally this event was for convention goers only, but I have been informed that I can invite all who are interested in joining in with the crocheting for MMMM! So, please come hang with me and art people from all over this land, down at the Renaissance Hotel, 515 Madison Street, Seattle, WA 98104. Last chance..going, going…go to Camp Long.

The Knitting & Networking, Craft & Conversation is scheduled for Friday, June 19, 7:00 p.m.–9:00 p.m. Renaissance Hotel, Visions Room.

Don't be shy. Crocheting and talking about art is a good way to spend a Friday evening, don't you think?

close up view of the river, Mandy Greer

image borrowed (taken by Jen Zwick) from her blog

An In-Progress Report

2009-06-12T08:32:00.000-07:00

As much as I hate showing work before it's done, this blog is as much about personal record-keeping and exposing an art process as it is about other people's art and that big world out there.

It's growing, this thing I'm nurturing. I'm sewing, sewing, sewing and it's almost endless save for it's suddenly astonishing size - this diminutive roll of adding machine paper has grown from a humble 2.5 inches to a bloated 14 across. There's still a third of a roll to go. I'm trying not to crumble in the face of adversity.

I'm having fun messing around with the way I'll present these rolls. I'm not actually going the same route as Tara Donovan, tempting as it is - we come from the same school of thought and historical references except she's brilliant, has assistants, and takes her work to the umpteenth level. I'm still figuring things out.

No, instead I'm thinking of clouds turned upside-down. Spools on rods spilling to the floor in an extravagant display of fluff. Or a mess of fluff on the floor. Or ten of these rolls sewn together in a massive string. Or ... or... or ...

I need more of the stuff in my hands before I decide. It's a good thing I've got a week off coming up - I have a long way to go before I know what this turns into.

Definitely clouds, a map, a code, a language. The space between is as important as the stitch. 8:49a 12 June 09
(fuzzy white yarn, adding machine paper)

Who Are We and Other Events in Identity

2009-06-11T09:20:00.000-07:00

Last night I missed out on what I think may have been an incredible discussion on identity going on at Greg Kucera. In what seems to be an extension of the original conversation about who's talking and to whom and when and about what, the Stranger's Jen Graves led a discussion with panelists Ken Allen, Stephen Lyons and Dann Webb. The question at the end of her Tuesday post was "Who the hell are we? Let's talk about it." Oh yes, lets!

What perks my interest in the discussion is that it stemmed from an initial criticism of an exhibition titled Century 21: Dealer’s Choice. She was challenged by Kucera to elaborate on her opinion of the show and so she did. I really like this idea of speak, think, challenge, dissect. I hope we continue to do this across the blogosphere, but also in all our conversations pixeled and acual - why not ask each other what the hell we mean and what we're getting at? The point is always to make clearer. I don't think any of us are talking just to hear ourselves. As one who will be listening, I look forward to hearing about the talk from people who were there!

So speaking of identity. Tonight - if I don't end up in the same place I did last night, planted firmly on the asphalt of the 520 bridge - I'll be at Vermillion looking at the work of Shaun Kardinal, Katherine Dyke, Jesse Delira and more during Capitol Hill's newly forged art walk, also known as "Blitz".

Also tonight, don't forget to drop into the Columbia City Gallery if you can and say hello to Mandy Greer during her artist's workshop. You absolutely have to catch her before the project is done - it's a lot of fun to participate and see her work in progress.

Lastly, Chris Crites will be at Roq la Rue tomorrow night with Travis Lampe for About: Face - 6 -9 pm in Belltown.

I recently heard summer was supposed to be slow but this week sure isn't! Hope to see you around...

Shaun Kardinal, The Other Side
Lightjet Print on Endura Metallic Paper, 2009. 8 x 8 inches

(sorry Shaun, this one seems to be a unanimous favourite. maybe it's just we all like to hug things? or are we sleepy too?)

Stop. (Hammer Time)

2009-06-08T09:04:00.000-07:00

Don't try to act like you don't wish you had been there (I wish I had been there). Seattle needs this:

Mandy Greer at the Olympic Sculpture Park!

2009-06-04T11:22:00.000-07:00

Back in April, I told you a little about artist Mandy Greer's project Mater Matrix Mother and Medium. Over on her blog she's documenting her latest project, a community crocheted 200 foot long Fiber River; and the embodiment of that river in a performance by choreographer and dancer Zoe Scofield.

In this project, Mandy opens the doors of artistic process to anyone who will join her. The beauty of this public project is it's commissioned with Seattle Public Utilities 1% for Art Funds, so not only is it open to us as a public arts project, it's open to be participated in by the public. Here's a rare chance to meet face to face and learn about the person making the very art your taxes pay for; and to find out where that money goes (hint: artists aren't laughing on their way to the bank).

As we push through the month of June, Mandy is wrapping up production for the installation, so I'm encouraging everyone to get out there and help her by crocheting your ass off. This weekend on both Saturday and Sunday, she's going to be at the Olympic Sculpture Park. How can you resist that?! Sculpture park + mountains + blue sky + Mandy and her art?! It's over the top. Do it!

From her calendar:

6th of June, Sat, noon – 4 pm, “Celebrating Wildflowers”, SAM Olympic Sculpture Park, PACCAR Pavillion

7th of June , Sun, 10 am – 2 pm, SAM Olympic Sculpture Park, outside PACCAR Pavillion (inside if rain), 2901 Western Avenue

8th of June, Mon, 11 am – 2 pm, 4Culture Conference Room, 101 Prefontaine Place S.

By the way, I can attest she is an excellent teacher and you will be crocheting whirlpools before you know it.

You can also read Emily Pothast's post about Mandy's work and project on Translinguistic Other.

Hope to see you guys there!

There I was crocheting blue onto blue and all of a sudden I was calm as could be, finding the zone in Shoreline of all places.
photo courtesy of Mandy Greer

Liz Tran, Thunder and Rain

2009-06-02T09:15:00.000-07:00

Local artist Liz Tran spent the month of May in Kentucky at the Artcroft Residency. I love the richness of her forms to begin with, but it's this small watercolour (?) study that stole my heart completely.

You can see more of the work she did during her stay at Artcroft on her blog.

Discourse over Echo

2009-06-01T09:23:00.000-07:00

Who are we talking to when we talk about art?

In the recent past, I've suggested perhaps some writers talk about art in a more approachable way than others. This is and isn't true. Art writing is a case-by-case basis which is largely subjective – we pick and choose the articles we like to read based on how tasty they are. So I don't mean to say that any one of us is particularly elitist, I mean to say that we may all be in danger of being elitist.

I have these groups of friends from different eras of my life, and many of them freely give me shit about the way I talk. In one case, someone stopped me mid-sentence because they were hung up on the word "materiality" – he thought I made the word up, and he's a rather well-read lit major. He said when people talk about art that way it makes him feel like it's a bullshit conversation, and his bare statement made me see how true it is.

I think it's incredibly easy to write about art in a way which comes across as elevated. I don't even think it requires a certain diction, I think it's inherent in the description. Like a dialect, almost. So how do we avoid certain language in discussing art? It's difficult. Art beckons to be described differently. So the question is can we speak about art in layman's terms or is it just a matter of education, and are either of these things our responsibility?

I don't mean we should talk down to people, or dilute the conversation. I mean perhaps language should be tempered in a way that doesn't assume a background in the field. When we all start artspeaking at each other, it comes with the pre-assumption we have a base we're building on which I think we take that for granted. Wait. I'll speak for myself – I take it for granted.

Look at it this way:

If art is a language, and those who don't immerse themselves in art are already left out of the conversation because of the way it is historically written/talked about; we who are immersed in the art world might be in danger of excluding them further with our internally-structured language about it. It doesn't matter whether or not it's intentional. It's simply inevitable.

And it is a matter of education for me. From Artomaton to now, my ambition has always been to widen the circle of art world participants to include those on the fringe or the outside; for me there is absolutely no reason why some should make art or talk about it and others should not. If I can chip away at any form of elitism to get us all at the core of why we do what we do, I will. And since I don't want a one-way discussion with myself, I promise to try harder to speak in a way which includes you.

So let me open it up –

Is art approachable to you and if so, how?

Are you turned off by art and why? Are you suspicious about the art world (inside joke, pulling one over, it's above you somehow, you don't know anything)?

How could the art world become more approachable to you?

Artomaton's shelved. Maybe I'll just write a new book, rather than checking out the same old same old.
9:33a 1 June 2009

Joey Veltkamp, Best Of

2009-05-27T08:57:00.000-07:00

Joey adds his voice to the chorus today over on his blog, and titles the post "We're Winning."

What I love about his perspective is that it's positive, and if you follow the links, you can see the layered and varied depth of his story. Something which jumps at me out from this post from November:

I know there are folks who are glad the proposition passed. I probably won't change their mind by yelling or protesting (but I understand that impulse). The way to change people's minds is by getting to know them. Based on their Facebook updates, the majority of my straight friends are overwhelmingly supportive and equally bummed out by Pr*p 8. Thanks -- that means so much.
But even if that doesn't work, all we have to do is wait it out. Each generation becomes more and more tolerant.

Well done Joey. And it's true. Even though I've been hearing this song for all thirty-four of my years on the planet and now in this city, it never rings false. The better we know each other, the more we reach out to people who are not carbon copies of ourselves, the better.

In the Shadow of Proposition 8, Upheld

2009-05-26T12:18:00.000-07:00

It's with great sadness that I deviate from talking about art to talk about inequality in the pursuit of happiness in California. This morning, the state's Supreme Court has ruled in favour of banning same-sex marriages, supporting Proposition 8 which was on this past year's November election. I can't even imagine how it's possible we would put something like this up for popular vote, let alone how this ruling is even remotely Constitutional*.

*Allow me to amend this statement due to a technicality, brought to my attention in several other places on the internet. This ruling may be "Constitutional" on the grounds that it was a ruling which dictates whether or not the state of California may change its constitution through the popular vote. Very well, fine. I stand by my case that the inherent problem was it landed on the ballot in the first place. So we can change it back? Does this mean we'll exist in an unending cycling stasis of acceptance/unacceptance for the indeterminate future? Does that mean we should go back and forth on issues of racial rights and abortion -- women suffering the right and the lack of right to choose and minorities voting every other national election? YES this is an emotional issue. How can it not be? You're lying to yourself if you think voters were voting on a technicality.

Since I don't have the time to post from work in a coherent manner (although it appears that I'm trying), I'm directing you to a very eloquent conversation about what it is to be "Other" in a society which excludes those/us/we who are different. Susanna Bluhm on her blog Getting to Know You Better is living up to the name, only now we're getting to know her as well as ourselves a little better too.

Truthfully, the beauty of this post is in the storytelling. I'm reminded how discrimination is easily accessible by anyone, towards anyone, intentional or not; whether it's reversed, ingrained, instigated, or reactionary. Sometimes it's not even seen on the surface - gender, class, race, and nationality come to mind in regards to discrimination of a more subtle nature. How would I know? My story is one of being an outwardly straight Caucasian female; but privately of partial Native American descent and not-necessarily-as-straight as I seem. I don't outwardly claim either in a loud voice to strangers, but perhaps it's time I did. Would it change what people thought of me? Does it matter? Nothing can ever be described only by what you see. We must look deeper.

If we could all stand over two steps to experience the ways in which we're affected by discrimination, even if we think we're not, the world might be a different place. I encourage you to step over yourself to join the conversation and tell your story. Tell it to someone close or to a stranger, tell it to someone even if you think they don't care. The important thing is to tell it, because we can no longer keep quiet.

The only way to combat this thing is to demonstrate how we're all in it together, that our world is one swathed in gradients of beautiful multilayered grey (and red and orange and blue and everything but only black or white).

The Great State of California, Putting Your Hard-Earned Tax Dollars to Work (just not for you)

Places to See, Artists to Be

2009-05-26T09:10:00.000-07:00

A Monday list of things I've been meaning to write about:

Emily Pothast and Joey Veltkamp are talking about the UW MFA Exhibition going on now at the Henry. I've yet to make up my mind about what I've seen, so I'm going back - details to come after I've digested a bit. My first impression was "wow" followed by "wait" and then upon leaving "hmm." I'm waiting until I've come down from kneejerking in protest to their diminishing MFA program to take a second look at the art. In the meantime, the show is up until 21 June.

Needless to say, the Cornish BFA Show surprised me this year and I'm glad to have seen it. You have one week to go take a look and form your own opinions. I still have to write up my thoughts on art versus presentation and what that means. Give me a minute. I promise I will.

Two things you shouldn't miss are breathtaking group shows, hung salon style at Howard House (hopefully you still have a chance at this one?) and Western Bridge. We so rarely have the opportunity to see art presented in this lush manner. So many artists, this many walls, these many images. There's at least this week remaining at Howard House, although it might be over; Western Bridge will be up through July. Please just walk by Howard House and peek in the window. You'll gasp with happiness.

Speaking of time running out, I encourage you to join Mandy Greer as she wraps up the making of her project Mater Matrix Mother and Medium. In this project, Mandy opens the doors of artistic process to anyone who will join her. The beauty of this public project is it's commissioned with Seattle Public Utilities 1% for Art Funds, so not only is it open to the public as a public arts project, it's open to be participated in by the public. Here's where you can meet the artist face to face and learn where the art your taxes pay for comes from, and where that money goes (hint: artists aren't laughing on their way to the bank). Here's a calendar of where she'll be as she finishes up production. Don't worry if you don't know how to crochet - she's a great teacher!

I don't have any photographs to give you because I don't have a USB cable to upload photos-- my now-defunct laptop had a card reader. My new shiny computer doesn't. Where's my ultra- convenient future? And while I'm asking, where's my jetpack?

This technology stuff is really becoming a hassle.

Summary: Get off the computer and go look at or make art.

Hard at Work, Back in the Swing

2009-05-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

I finally have my new computer, and now I just need to re instigate old habits. Time away from the box means time spent with a needle and thread, which is precisely what I need right now.

So I've been working hard at hardly working just to spend more of my mind and my days bent over the work, sewing sewing; each increment a recording, a track, a piece of code. There are so many different things the stitch/form could be/mean, but I see where I'm going with this.

Criticism for the art of others can wait a minute while I stop to ask myself a few hard questions.

Something like clouds, a map, a code, a language. Or, a disastrous weather pattern. 9:35a 19 May 09
(fuzzy white yarn, adding machine paper -- roll in the background is sewn with red bookbinding thread)

Cornish BFA Highlights, A Brief Overview

2009-05-12T09:09:00.000-07:00

I'll have to go through these again and credit them properly, but what I really want to do is provide a comparative example of similar work I've seen in Seattle and New York over the last five or six years.

Unfortunately since my computer recently died a deadly death, I'm working from a cumbersome setup of wireless keyboard/trackball combo with the widescreen television as my monitor. I'm not mentally equipped for this kind of work station.

For now I'll say that I was fairly well pleased with Cornish's graduating class. They seem to have a finger more squarely placed on contemporary art than they've had in the past, and informed or no, I'm happy to see imaginations at work. I can also see how the production crew (*coughcoughClaireJohnson*) and theatre department worked overtime to give Cornish their super-pro exhibition space a lot of glitz, and this is precisely where I get tripped up.

Is my enamour of the show about the work or the presentation? It was so slick, I was almost completely sold. That is, until I saw less well presented work in hallways and upstairs. I thought, "huh, why is the work so different here?" I've come to the conclusion the ones I deemed to be stars just happened to be under the brightest lights.

So I'm going back this weekend to give a proper look, apart from crowds and the post-work commute haze. Then perhaps I can write about it with a clear head.

In the meantime, I'll hope my new computer arrives and that you go see the show for yourself.

Hold your horses, I'll credit these later (I tookt these pics myself with a dying camera!) but you can see a list of the artists on the BFA web page. Compare and contrast is the name of the game!

More Art Than You Know What to Do With

2009-05-08T13:18:00.001-07:00

I may have been a little sassy about it, but I'm looking forward to seeing some fresh art tonight at the Cornish College of the Arts BFA show. For example, these are two people I'm really looking forward to talking to:

Justin R. Lytle, whose work reminds me of my friend Clay Franks; but at times they both remind me of Kwang-Young Chun

John Ruszel has a lovely thing going with tension sculptures, which remind me a little of Eric Eley

The important thing to remember is criticism aside, this is the single dedicated art school in the city. All of us - critics, artists, and writers - should hit this show en masse every year because there's always something unexpectedly mind blowing. And it's fun!

Also tonight, you may want to catch artist Emily Pothast singing with her band, Midday Veil.

On her blog today she says:

" grab a bite to eat and whatever else you need to get you through a night of experimental music and enchanted jams from my band Midday Veil at Night 4 of the Seattle Occultural Music Festival, which begins at 10 p.m. at the Rendezvous Jewel Box Theatre. Yes, it’s true what they say: this show WILL swallow you whole. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. "

I'm sure there's a lot more going on tonight I'm not covering. What will you be doing tonight?

My Sentiments Exactly

2009-05-07T07:52:00.001-07:00

Lest I sound like a total curmudgeon, allow me to share a hilarious newsreel from The Onion. It sums up everything I like to sneer about in regards to Apple products. I <3 height="296" width="512">

Oh yes. I'm a dyed-in-the-wool PC user. I know it's really un-artistic of me. But I'm a slave to the manual drive and video games.

A Little Too Abrasive? No, Never.

2009-05-06T10:32:00.001-07:00

I'm a little hard on my alma mater, it's true. When I arrived at Cornish , I saw how sated my classmates seemed in comparison to how thirsty we were at Pratt Institute. At the time, it made me sad. I'm well aware of my brash generalisation. Maybe I'll be proven wrong and I'll find the student body has developed a newfound love of contextual art history. (I would love that)

I know I'm not the only one who wants to challenge artists to take in a broader scope. Jen Graves recently discussed in The Vancouver Problem how one of the defining characteristics she sees in Vancouver artists is their connection to other times. She says:

But the success of today's developing Vancouver artists is not their links to those guys (past artists). It's that they are connected in all directions—to other times as well as other places.

She's making a larger controversial claim to be sure, but is it possible there's a grain of truth in there somewhere?

And why am I so obsessively focussed on this?

Because the past informs our decisions. It helps us push further, get deeper, get past the history behind what we've made. Art students seem to view this as a hindrance, a roadblock (don't tell me what to do). But restrictions function to give us room for a louder voice. Learn the rules, yes a cliché, and then break them wide open.

Lastly, it's also about a dialogue. Artists talking to you, artists talking to themselves. Those I admire talk about their art in a way which opens the door to inquiry -- isn't an art practise about questions? Mine certainly is! And when you ask me a question about the piece on which I spent so many tedious hours, I want to be able to talk to you about it. I want to be able to answer your questions -- chances are you're going to have them. And there's nothing less satisfying than "I don't know" for either of us.

This isn't about academia or elitism. You don't need a degree to dig into the theory. You just need to be hungry.

So yes I want great things from Cornish and her graduates. Seattle needs Cornish. Seattle needs them. I hope they love their classes as much as I did and exhaust their resources. I hope they don't slip into obscurity. I hope they come bursting straight out of the gate and cause a ruckus. I hope they can learn to have a great discussion on escaping the burden of history, and that they know how incredibly important it is that we do.

Special Collections from the Sorted Books projectC-prints, each 12.5 x 19 inches, 1996

So, Cornish. How You Doin?

2009-05-04T21:09:00.000-07:00

It's May. Mothers are weeping with joy at not having to cook breakfast for one day out of the year. It's a steady driving rain out of nowhere with an occasional exciting clap of thunder. And kids in art schools across America are about to step off the same precarious cliff the rest of us did when we delivered our lives to the Unknown. I'm amused, I'm wistful, I'm reminiscing. Mostly I'm watching, with one raised eyebrow turned to Cornish's 2009 BFA show.

Last year I was a little scathing, but only because of what I want Cornish College of the Arts to be. I can imagine what it might be. What it is however, is Seattle's singular dedicated art school with its loyalties divided; small with the potential to be great. I should diplomatically state that I have a great appreciation for what Cornish does. As an art school it's evolving, and it seems like the program, faculty, and options get better every year. Nevertheless, as usual, I have an opinion. This opinion states that compared to last year's (relatively strong) graduating class, this year has me biting my tongue.

I want the students to break free. I want them to delve into what terrifies them and come out the other side. I want them to stop fighting the medium and hiding in the comfort of safe ideas. I want them to step outside of their minimum daily requirement of past and contemporary art history and go to First Thursday, Portland galleries, and Vancouver. I want them to get out of the rut which seems to haunt me with the memory of what Seattle art used to be, look like, taste like. Or at least get better at it if they're going to do it.

Dear gradating class of 2009. Don't be scared. Get the hell out there and transform, grow, and do things. Read. Write. Engage, participate and challenge.

Here's the thing. Every year, the University of Washington spits out a small number of MFA graduates who show their work at the Henry and then seem to almost effortlessly slip into the Seattle art world. UW's undergrads get a small nod of appreciation with a gallery show in Pioneer Square. Cornish gets a balls-out razzle-dazzle ginormous exhibition which is marketed, publicized, pimped out, and glamorous. Afterwards, the graduates disappear. Where do they go? Where are they now? Are they catching up on their art history?

I said last year that Cornish breeds artists. I'm hoping they do. I hope those artists don't grow up to be Artists. You know, the kind who hole up in a four-story tenement with the bathtub in the kitchen, eating cold Cambell's soup from the can and living off the fumes of a mythology that states artists have to suffer and make art alone in a vacuum.

Here are a couple of people I'm looking forward to meeting:

Justin R. Lytle, whose work reminds me of my friend Clay Franks; but at times they both remind me of Kwang-Young Chun

John Ruszel has a lovely thing going with tension sculptures, which remind me a little of Eric Eley

The Cornish College of the Arts BFA show is this Friday, 8 May, 5-9 pm. (address is in the link)

Don't let me get you off on the wrong foot. It's always a blast, and there's always something that catches you by surprise and makes you feel good about the state of ~~art schools~~ the art school in Seattle. I promise.

An Extended Branch of the Conversation

2009-05-04T09:00:00.000-07:00

In 2006, I launched a website called Artomaton for the express purpose of participating in a conversation about art. It was marginally successful. It got me involved in the world I'd worked so hard to be a part of. Post-New York and freshly re-rooted in Seattle, it opened the door to meet other artists and art writers. To that end, even though I lost the site (long story); it motivated me to renew myself as an artist who writes because that very conversation is integral to the process of art. And we need each other, we need this community. Without it, we shout into a void.

Artist/writer Susanna Bluhm asks on her blog Getting to Know You Better why writing is the introduction we all have to one another, rather than our art. Because this is Seattle, and writing is safe. We can gauge one another before we meet to say "ah, you won't hurt me." We're tender shoots and flowers in the Northwest, a precarious balance of loud and soft.

And have you ever tried to approach artists during a First Thursday art walk? It's not impossible, but it can be discouraging. Not that it's stopped any of us, but I'm sure we can all recount a time we approached a hosting artist and turned away with the thought "perhaps next time."

Writing about art is one way we can talk to each other on level ground. We're not social climbing here. We're getting a point across, and we're reaching for feedback. The problem is we've been doing it in solitary confinement. However, the last Klatch held by Scott Lawrimore this past Tuesday showed us all how much we want to talk to each other -- and to the rest of the world as well.

Emily Pothast and Joey Veltkamp regularly contribute to this conversation. We read them because they're not critics, because they're actually artists talking about art on the level we see it. That is to say, art as life. They talk about art in a keenly observant but approachable manner. We get what they're aiming at.

It's not that Jen Graves doesn't; she does quite often. But despite her eloquence and focus on some profoundly amazing art, her approach isn't the sort one takes unless they're entrenched. Perhaps this is a testament to the success of Regina Hackett's blogging career; like her or not you have to admire the finesse in which she distributes her criticism. It's on the table, just the way you like it, no bones about it.

The fundamental point of what these writers have in common is dynamic conversation, a volley of thoughts and ideas. Back and forth. You and me. As Jen challenges us to comment more frequently on her blog, she turns the conversation over to our corner and says, "now you." And so now us.

As always, we'll be careful what we ask for. If any of us in Seattle have anything to do with it, we'll get it in spades.

propelled mobilisation begins with the simple motion of a lever, applied acutely

So Much Media, So Many Links

2009-04-30T16:05:00.000-07:00

So there's been a lot of lively press on the Seattle Erotic Art Festival, and with good reason. I'll expand on this some time Monday morning, but for now, suffice to say that it was my intention and my hope to bring artists into the show who would challenge any preconceived idea of what erotic art is, who makes it, and where it gets shown. I think everyone involved did an absolutely smashing job of succeeding and rising above and beyond that challenge.

You can read Regina Hackett's post here about the event, including links to her past reviews.

Jen Graves discusses the comfort level and/or a lack thereof surrounding what you may or may not see on the walls of such a Festival. I appreciate her perspective and admittance that it's a personal reaction and not a judgment. I only wish people would start talking about the art again.

Someone else on the SLOG offers a different take, with photos.

The Seattle Times throws us a favourable plug, and if you really want to be entertained, scroll through the comments. I'm still annoyed about the Cindy Sherman thing but I'm an art history snob and was so proud that I saw someone who tapped into the Marilyn Minter aesthetic. Feh.

Jim Demetre gives us a blurb on ArtDish.

City Arts takes a few photos at the artist's reception.

Emily Ann Pothast and Joey Veltkamp blog about their involvement and the artist's opening reception.

And last but not least, if you want to hear me get super-uber art nerd on KUOW's The Conversation, you can catch a podcast on the Conversation page of the website.

If I've missed anything, my apologies but feel free to add them to the list in the comments!

Thanks to the entire organizing committee of the Festival, all the innumerable volunteers who have done the grunt work, and of course, to all the artists. Without them, none of this would have been possible.

And special thanks go out to artist, art wrangler, and exhibition goddess extraordinaire Claire Johnson, for asking me in the first place. (seriously, she's installing the Cornish BFA show as we speak in addition to having just hung SEAF)

Tonight's the last night, and tomorrow is the Open House -- you can catch the art for free! And by the way, also tomorrow; Emily's presenting a slide lecture on art, sex, and spirituality at the Sharma Center.

And remember, in the immortal words of my aunt Priscilla, if art isn't sexy in one way or another, it isn't doing it's job. Damn straight, Priscilla!

Have a great weekend!

the beauteous glow of the marquis -- your name in lights, baby
image courtesy of Joey Veltkamp's Best Of

Interview, Kimberly Trowbridge

2009-04-30T15:54:00.000-07:00

This interview concludes the series of conversations with artists included in my curated section of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival. I'm a little sad, and at a bit of a loss -- good lord, what will I write about now? I've been interacting on such a profound level with so many artists. This is what I write for, this is the reason I make art. To connect, engage, discuss, and learn. I am thankful to all the artists who participated in this year's event, and I look forward to seeing what this year brings in Seattle's intimate but extremely vibrant scene.

Kimberly Trowbridge says her work explores the development of identity as an image. And she does, in spades -- Trowbridge continually describes her work as being inseparable from the stories she creates or the life she lives. If only we could all be so eloquent in our visual description. I'm truly saddened my interviews wrapped up at such a chaotic time in preparation for the Festival, and I didn't get the chance to talk with Ms. Trowbridge in greater detail on her work. However, I'd like to offer up this quote from her site; words which I can use only in poor substitute of her voice:

Vessels

Vessels journey out at sea. Waters peopled
With people like you and me.
a vessel of pleasure;
a vessel of grief.

Over the past couple of years I have been exploring the figure as a vessel of sexual interaction, coupled with nautical imagery and meaning: a boat, the sea, survival, journey.

For me, the process of painting is a narrative unfolding; the development of the story is the act of painting. These paintings come out of the need for the figures to fight for their survival out at sea. For a pink line to interact with a blue shape. The journey:
the trying to get somewhere, get around, get inside of, get through.

The figures are at once playful, and soon at great risk. They are containers and contained. They help and hurt each other. They are up against great forces beyond their control.

My all-too-brief conversation with Kimberly follows. Enjoy.

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

I don’t think I ever set-out to make an ‘erotic’ work. The act of working on a painting is in a certain way a very erotic act. The arc of it, the intimacy, the vulnerability. It seems to follow, for me, that the subjects within the painting would also depict that.

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

Interplay is a playful celebration of intercourse. It is shown in first-person, up close, during the act. It depicts the decision-making, the movement from here-to-here: a hand a nipple a mouth.

Coupling is told in third-person, witnessing but invited to enter the space through the center and participate. Both works are oil paintings with strong roots in figuration and abstraction.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

The works.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Rain (or is that expected?)

Not at all, Kim, and thanks for spending the time to talk with me!

Tonight is the final evening, the costume gala, the smashing crescendo. Come for the art, but stay for the spectacle! For tickets and information, please visit SeattleErotic.Org.

Kimberly Trowbridge, Coupling 2009 oil on canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Kimberly Trowbridge, Lovers 2006 mixed media collage
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Tim Marsden

2009-04-30T07:14:00.000-07:00

One of the things I really wanted to do in this curated exhibition was represent a wide range of artists, from realism and video installation to wildly conceptual. There is a strong history of art in Seattle with roots in cartooning and comic genres, so I sought out a few other artists who fall into this category. After all, this is the town which contains Fantagraphics, Matt Groening, Jim Woodring, and Randy Wood all in one place. Tim Marsden is no less brilliant. In fact, his hilarious and dry sometimes self-depricating sense of humour is what makes his voice so keenly apt and en pointe.

My conversation with Tim follows:

When I was first asked to submit work for SEAF in 2005 I labored under the delusion the work had to be explicit and perhaps a bit extreme in order to be considered for the show, which isn’t a style I’m particularly comfortable using in my own work. I have seen and admire others work of this sort, but for me it would have been a contrived style or method and would have seemed somehow disingenuous on my part. However, after giving the whole prospect some thought it became clear that eroticism has been used throughout the history of art and like the festival itself, embraces a number of diverse attitudes to what exactly is erotic.

I have a tendency to use humor in my work and when I realized that sex was as funny a part of the human condition as anything else I managed to come up with work that was intellectually honest to myself, and in their own quirky way, somewhat erotic.

This will be the fourth time I have submitted work to the festival and each year has proven to be an interesting exercise in exploring the meaning of erotica.

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

The funny thing is, so far I’m not sure what I’ll be submitting this year, which is a pain in everyone’s ass. Not least of all mine, let me assure you. However there are number of ideas bouncing around that I would like to explore. I have thought about doing a piece that references Thomas Rowlandson’s erotic drawings from the 1700s as they are jaw- droppingly amazing not least for their shocking explicitness. Those eighteenth century folk were a bawdy lot. Google “Thomas Rowlandson erotic” and tell me I’m lying.

I’m also thinking that maybe a willie going up and down (echoing the recent stock market trends) could be a humorous look at reversible fortunes. But that may be a bit too topical. Still I wouldn’t hesitate to use it if I thought it was funny enough. And you know, willie drawings put a smile on everyone’s face.

Then, if I’m totally in a bind, I think I could always fall back on a work I have called “The Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television”. I’m hoping to sell a fridge magnet version of this piece in the SEAF shop, and while it’s not referencing sex per se, it does have sweary words in it and some people find that erotic.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

As a painter I’m mostly interested in the visual arts at the festival, the photography, painting, and printmaking as well as the sculpture. For the years I’ve been involved in the show I have seen a steady progression in the quality of work and it just keeps getting stronger. Much like the festival itself, the work looks at many different aspects of sexuality and while not all of it is universal in its appeal, there is certainly something for everyone.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

For some reason I’m completely drawing a blank on this question. It’s either I find too many things sexy or I’m just too tired to find anything sexy at the moment. Give me a shout when I’ve had some rest. Wait a minute… oh that… why yes…

Tim Marsden, The Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television (exerpt) 2008, acrylic on clayboard
image courtesy of the artist

Tim Marsden, Instant Revolution 2009 ink on paper
(print on firm paper, fold and throw at a Wall Street Banker. We are a small city, so it's a small brick)
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Diem Chau

2009-04-29T21:41:00.000-07:00

Diem Chau has been a local favourite of mine for some time. Her tender and delicate approach to artmaking is a sentiment on storytelling, femininity, and culture. She's most recently shown at OKOK in Ballard, which I suppose is now the more formally titled Ambach & Rice; and she also writes on her blog The Pleasure of Tiny Things. There you'll find a really cute video, by the way -- a project she's done for US Cellular.

What follows is our conversation together.

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

The immediate reaction is to make something overtly sexual. My interest is in the fringe of sexuality, where the line is between what is pleasurable and what is repulsive. Playing with boundaries and adding some humor to the process.

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

I wanted to make something as beautiful as it is repulsive. Pubic hair, what can I say... almost everyone has had one in their mouth at one time or another.

Diem, I've heard you mention before how important stories are in your work; that we connect to one another and to fantasy through these stories. Given the intimacy and tenderness of your work, I'm curious what it's like or how it changes your process to examine sexuality? What were some of those boundaries?

I think the pieces in SEAF are a tangent from my usual work. They are more in-the-moment and not as much about narrative. When I made them I thought of my own sense of sexuality. What I really want, omitting what society has told me to want. What we find joy in others might find repulsive, strange or uncomfortable and their opinion affects how we think. The celebration of sexuality isn't about breaking other people's barriers, but our own. It's about self discovery, awareness and acceptance. It doesn't have to be beautiful, it just has to be mine.

In the process of sort of beautifying this awkward moment (pubic hair in the mouth), are you also showing us that there is beauty and care-taking, a tender moment in the almost repulsive event?

I picked pubic hair because it seems to be hated by so many and yet it comes naturally. I wanted to present it minimally and give it a sense of delicacy and vulnerability. I would have made male genitalia too, but it was a bit more complex and more comical looking (no offense)!

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

This is my first time participating and attending the SEAF. I've heard a lot about it from friends who've volunteered in the past. Look forward to seeing the shiny attire.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Striped socks!

Thanks Diem for talking a bit with us!

You know the drill, and we're down to the wire. Get your tickets and information at SeattleErotic.Org to read up on the artists, Festival calendar, and performances. The Fesitival starts Friday -- that's tomorrow!

Diem Chau, Pink Betty (detail) 2009 sheer organza, organza, copper wire
image courtesy of the artist

Diem Chau, Long Braid 2008 porcelain plate, silk, thread / 6.25" Dia (Plate 6)
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Sean Hurley

2009-04-29T08:36:00.000-07:00

Sean Michael Hurley is an artist who's gone through a lot of changes. His work is interesting because there's a hearkening back to distant mythology. It's a bit of dreamtime, a bit of psychedelic experience. His and Robert Hardgrave's work could be talking to each other in that world (but I have it on good authority that they're talking to each other in this world!). Sean also runs Floating Bridge Studio, where they hold workshops and create custom mural designs.

Here's my lively discussion with Sean:

I haven't submitted work to the SEAF in the past, largely because I never felt my work was A. thematically related to sex per se and B. actually very sexy. Bear in mind that I'm a recovering Altar Boy.

So when I was asked to contribute a piece this year, it came at a very serendipitous point, as I've recently experienced a fairly radical shift in my life and work, and things are somewhat cheerier for me now, and it shows. And frankly, I've come to see the visionary art-making experience and the essentially communicative act of lovemaking --- in whatever flavor you choose --- as minutely different aspects of the same basic force.

The painting I've submitted is called Shiva and Shakti, which seemed very appropriate on any number of counts, so I won't go on about it, except to same there is a big difference between depicting something and being it. The other thing is that the painting is not by me, but rather an entirely self-made alter-ego named Cormac Callahan, which again I'm not going to get into.

You mention the radical shift in your life and your work. I remember your paintings striking me as being images and memories from a dream. Soft edges, faces I couldn't recollect upon waking. Where does the change from the figurative to mythological world take place? Can you tell us a little about the process of that shift?

I guess you're asking about the difference between representing something and evoking something; and although that seems like an old question, it remains an important one. I like to do both of those things: I enjoy making an excellent drawing, like a really good life drawing; and I love rendering a picture with oil paints. It just thrills me to be able to make a very convincing picture, to use a set of learned skills and do that. But that picture is an inert thing, an object that has parameters that are concrete: There is a mountain. Here is a woman. Is she clothed? How so? Anybody can see these elements, and although one has some latitude in her or his interpretation of a picture like I'm describing, it is a comparatively small one. Mostly, A representation is precisely that: A re-presentation of a fact or facts already familiar to a viewer. When I was making a lot of blurry, dreamy-type pictures, I thought I could get around that axiom, that I could somehow hedge my deal by making things soft around the edges, and that would somehow free a representation from this tyranny of the already-known. And that was a flatly mistaken notion.

When you move into abstraction --- and I'll just use that term broadly here to mean a painting that looks like nothing so much as itself --- you're not really playing the same game at all. And I guess I mean a certain approach to abstraction; I have zero time or interest for straight up formalism, although I admire many painters who have devoted their entire working lives to the making of formalist paintings. You mentioned that word --- mythological --- and although I've always been deeply attracted to that stuff, it too draws a circle around a painting in which you make a literal or demonstrably pictorial association. Some folks will get it, and most will see a picture of something that doesn't mean a thing, nor will it ever. But if you've spent the same time and effort gathering up those formal skills --- the same skills formalist painters believe constitute actual art --- until those skills are ingrained in your muscles, and then you set yourself down and set those skills to work as an act of meditation or prayer or self-hypnosis or Process whatever you want to call it, then it seems to me you're getting to a place that I find very interesting, and it's not altogether different from a dream, or the reverie of something new learned, or a tantric orgasm. You know, it just takes a lot of work to get to something really simple, and once you've got there, most folks will be able to see it too.

Several artists have discussed a sort of conceptual presence of sensuality/sexuality in the artmaking process. How does that energy translate for you?

It strikes me as pretty obvious that people crave communion, and the more intense the person, the more intensely they'll crave it. And artists are generally pretty intense. So I don't see much difference, except for the window-dressing.

Well, I know you've just said you won't get into it but who is this Cormac Callahan anyway, and who does he think he is?

I guess this won't be such a mystical or romantic answer, and you can strike it out if it doesn't fit into your scheme here, but it's better if I just get it out of the way. Cormac Callahan is a manifestation of a psychotic episode I went through. To tell you the truth, I'm still in it, and this has been sort of a tough time, as I'm saying goodbye to a part of me I've really enjoyed. I'm a manic-depressive, and I haven't taken any meds to mange it for a really long time, but my family and I have been through a really, really fucked up period, through little fault of our own besides good intentions and poor judgement I should say, and I sort of lost my shit, as they say. And so this is the last time he'll be showing his face around these parts (and hopefully any other). Strictly speaking, he is my brtother, who only lived three months and was never known to me as I was adopted and met my Mom much later in life. And I thought I was possessed by him. It's a mysterious world, you know?

I don't know if this is like totally uncomfortably revealing, but I'm not ashamed, and anyway: What the fuck.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Self-invention is the sexiest thing ever. It is the essence of eroticism.

Thanks Sean for such a great interview!

I thought the introduction of Mr. Callahan was an interesting component, so I've included this bit from an earlier conversation. Sean describes Cormac Callahan in this way:

For this show, I've invented a character who looks like me but dresses much sexier than I ever would. His name is Cormac Callahan, and he has borrowed/stolen/been lent my painting style wholesale, on the condition that he doesn't show his face around these parts again. In this sense, Callahan is actually the important part of the artwork showing at the 2009 SEAF; the painting itself is simply a talisman, the cracker bearing the butter, and I'll be the one to whom the check gets written if I should be so fortunate as to sell it. Callahan is actually not someone we want around too much; he seems great at first, but soon grates with all his fucking ideas and personality. I'm letting him come to the artists' reception in my stead, simply because he enjoys that kind of thing much more than I do. After that, he's being handed his hat and shown the door, most likely for good. In fact, he's lucky I let him into this gig at all; he's unreliable, and if he didn't have me to lean on, he couldn't make a painting worth a damn. As it is, the picture I'm giving him rocks the house, such that I couldn't let him have all the credit and co-signed it anyway.

Is this confusing? Confusion can be very,very sexy.

That's awesome Sean; you've just made art-organizers around the world (but specifically a few in Seattle/that is to say, me) feel a lot better about themselves!

Ok so you know by now to visit SeattleErotic.Org to read up on the artists, Festival calendar, and performances. The Fesitival starts this Friday!

Corman Callahan, Shakti and Shiva (detail) 2009 acrylic on canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Sean Michael Hurley, Entertainers 2009 acrylic on canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Chris Crites

2009-04-28T06:39:00.001-07:00

Chris Crites is a local artist you've seen around town a lot -- he draws up a cover for the Stranger now and then and curates the shows at a Capitol Hill favourite, Joe Bar. When he's not doing either of those, he's showing with Aqua Art Miami, SAM Gallery (recently in the show with Troy Gua) , and artist collective Sideshow Fine Arts. And, as it happens, this weekend with the Seattle Erotic Art Festival!

Here's my conversation with Chris:

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

For me it was the division between "hardcore" and "erotic". At first I wanted to do something really out there, really intense, but felt some restraint on not being too explicit. To me that is the point of erotic art, being sexy and not extreme.

These pieces are an exploration of the sensuality of the self. Not necessarily masturbation, but that fact that everyone is inherently sexy. I don't think I am trying to tell any story, just showing what simple pleasure can be I suppose.

You mention the point of erotic art for you is to be sexy and not extreme. Is it important for us to have the room to imagine, to not have it explicitly spelled out for us? Is the sexy part imagining what occurs outside the frame?

I think so, yes. Letting the imagination run wild sometimes can be more arousing and interesting than seeing what is really there. At least for me. The pieces I did for this year's festival deliberately play on that idea, that you can't quite tell what is happening beyond what I chose to show.

What differs for you in creating a scene for the erotic pieces versus a scene for the mugshots? Does it bring a different energy to your process? If so, can you tell us a little more about it?

Since most of my work is of a different intensity, criminal or police portraits yes, the energy is quite different. My mug shot work is selected by how the subject engages me and how intense I feel a connection to the particular face. With erotic work it feels much more open. There is so much more material to work with, a broader range of ideas if you will. I had a difficult time this year. The past couple of years I have painted several nudes but really wanted something different for the festival. Working on erotic work is more relaxing than staring at an image that is constantly staring back as with my portrait work. I chose to keep the pieces this year in my tightly rendered style, but it was just more fun than what I usually paint.

What would happen if you were to combine the mug shots with sexy scenes. Would it cause a subterranean rift? Would it be too powerful or would we be able to handle it? (in a more serious tone, where do you see the progression of your erotic works leading in the future?)

I have been thinking quite a bit actually about the combination and it's effect. I would like to do more paintings with multiple things going on, whether it is a nude or erotic scene with a mug shot or crime scene or accident, piling layers of meaning. However, I want to be careful that it is not taken as a story of a sex crime or lover violence. It would have to be the right balance. There is so much violence against women, homosexuals and transgender people in the world, I certainly don't want my work to be misconstrued as glorifying that violence. There are many subjects I want to display in order to get people in general to think about these topics but it might be my own boundaries that have kept me from combining them so far. I have painted rapists and I have painted prostitutes. Finding the appropriate way to bridge my work with these varied subjects is one of the challenges keeping me from doing more so far. That, along with having the proper venue to display the results. Who knows what can happen.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

The fact that it is back! I missed the one night gala last year and look forward to a bigger and more exciting event this year. Looking forward to seeing all the excellent work.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Not that it is "unexpectedly" sexy, but I think boots and a skirt is a damn sexy combo.

Chris, thank you for such an introspective dialogue!

Please visit SeattleErotic.Org to read up on the artists, Festival calendar, and performances.

Chris Crites, Don't Limit Your Pleasure (detail) 2009 acrylic on paper bag
image courtesy of the artist

Chris Crites, Breaking and Entering. Theft. Resisting Arrest 2007 acrylic on paper bag
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Emily Pothast

2009-04-27T08:58:00.000-07:00

Emily Pothast is one of those triple-threat phenomenons-- she's a musician and writer in addition to being a visual artist. Authoring words and keen observations on her blog, Translinguistic Other , she also sings them with partner David Golightly in their joint project Midday Veil. Meanwhile, she still manages to squeeze in enough time to show her work, most recently in a solo show at Grey Gallery on Capitol Hill.

I've included only the first question in the early part of the interview; if you're curious what the others were you can check out some of the past interviews.

Enjoy!

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

This is a complex question. Like most people, I think my personal attitudes toward "erotic art" are pretty tied up in my notions about sexuality in general.

I think there is a silent taboo against sexual openness and expression within my generation, at least within the social groups I tend to identify with. I was in elementary school during the 1980s, and I remember being indoctrinated from a very young age to be deathly afraid of sex; that I would get a disease and die a horrible, scandalous death if I ever had any sex, ever. These kinds of cultural attitudes go through cycles, and I think the AIDS epidemic--combined with a backlash against the sexual revolution--imprinted my generation with a peculiar conservatism.

Ironically, we also watched the rise of the Internet, which suddenly gave everyone in the world access to a vast spectrum of possibilities limited only by the human imagination. So now each of us can be a kid in a candy store when it comes to exhibitionism, voyeurism, and even anonymous hookups without ever having to address the psychosexual hangups that are our collective birthright, let alone work through them. The result has been, in too many cases, a society whose sexual self-image is largely in denial. Perhaps this becomes most evident when some sex-loathing religious or political figure gets caught indulging in his deep dark fantasies, but it also plays itself out in small subtle ways in all of our lives.

I think healthy sexuality must be rooted in a healthy spirituality, and by spirituality I don't mean anything necessarily having to do with invisible gods or the supernatural (though those things are great, in their proper place!) There are plenty of mythological systems all over the world that are content to create a meaningful and dignified place for the individual human life to unfold against the backdrop of the cycles of birth, death, and rebirth that we are constantly witness to in the natural world. All life-affirming spiritual systems embrace sexuality as the sacred and mysterious source of life. Many of us in the West flirted with these kinds of ideas in the 60s and 70s only to slip into a reactionary conservatism over the past few decades. But now I want to believe that even while old institutions and certainties collapse around us, we are on the brink of a renaissance of sorts, where both spirituality and sexuality may be increasingly approached with open minds and hearts.

This is not to say that I didn't go into this with any negative stereotypes of erotic art. I certainly had them, mostly because I've seen so much shallow, boring stuff given this label in the past. But just as I don't think human beings need to give up on religion and mythology to punish ourselves for prominent bad examples, I don't think "erotic art" can possibly be a bad idea in and of itself. So in overcoming my personal resistance to the idea of making erotic art, I found myself building a narrative in which the erotic becomes fused with the sacred and celebratory.

The collage/drawings I've been doing recently show an influence of sacred geometry, folk art, and manuscript painting. My geometry started off more literal, with direct reference to Pythagoras and Platonic solids, but has become increasingly organic and intuitive. When I decided I was going to be a part of this show, I started thinking about the potential of geometry and abstraction to suggest physicality. The mandorla (or yoni, Sanskrit for "source") is an ancient symbol for female genitalia or the entrance to the womb. The shape also occurs in relation to death, for instance in Christian depictions of the Last Judgment and Buddhist Mahakalas. Thus it is both physical and metaphysical; a doorway that connects life to the void at both ends.

There is a concept in Tantric cosmology that describes the relationship of Shiva and Shakti, his consort/feminine element. The masculine and feminine aspects of the deity represent the constitutive elements of the universe and the dynamic potency of those elements come to life, respectively. The two are sometimes represented as hermaphroditic halves of the same being, and sometimes depicted as engaged in cosmic coitus (yab-yum, literally "father-mother"). When the two are united, all is infinite divine potentiality and insight. But when they separate, Shakti's movements give rise to maya, the illusory fragmentation and separation of the wholeness of reality.

The colors I'm using in the new pieces refer to these opposites perennially coming together and falling apart. The yab-yum is often depicted as a female human figure representing the transitory nature of matter engaged in coitus with a dark blue deity, representing the eternal abyss we all emerge from and return to. Flesh and blue-black.

Buddhist yab-yum

Emily Pothast, Eternal Return 2008 collage and drawing
image courtesy of the artist

You mention scare tactics in sex education, and it strikes me that our learning about sex is clinical and completely separate from cultural identity. Do you think there would be less of a stigma around sex/art about sex if we were more rooted in a [cultural] significance of sexuality in storytelling?

Definitely. Unfortunately, finding a way to communicate openly and honestly with young people about the facts of life is an exercise most adults dread because it's something many of us have yet to do with ourselves. So kids end up piecing together notions about sex from disparate sources, often perpetuating the unhealthy divisions that characterize our cultural identity.

The first step of getting well is always admitting that you have a problem. This is a cycle that must be consciously recognized and admitted to before we can do anything about it. Unfortunately, our society isn't really set up to make this kind of self-reflection easy. I grew up in Texas, where the vast majority of adults sincerely believe that God created the earth from scratch a few thousand years ago and Jesus is literally going to come back someday to send all the people who don't worship God the same way they do to Hell, where they will be punished eternally. Now, many liberal, educated people hear that, and they have no interest in trying to figure out where these beliefs come from and how they are able to spread and survive. All they can hear is the intense wrongness of it, and they react emotionally. Some, like the "New Atheists" that have been gaining ground in recent years, will go so far as to imagine that they can or should somehow free humanity from religion and spirituality altogether; declaring a War on Religion that's about as useful and well-defined (not to mention impossible) as a War on Terror. So we end up with two factions that are becoming increasingly polarized and decreasingly capable of having the slightest idea where the other side is coming from.

Our collective sexual identity is caught in the crossfire of all that trauma. Is it any wonder it gives us so much trouble?

In your artist statement you say: "My work is rooted in an interest in myth, ritual, and the human desire to unite the thing that experiences with the source of experience itself." Is the connection your work has to folk art, mysticism, and mythology grounding you?

I suppose so. In absence of a strong identification with the culture in the places I've lived, I've amassed something of a one-woman culture of objects and ideas I identify with, and this is something I think a lot of artists do. For me, the strongest identification I've found is with the various mystic traditions throughout human history, running through the diversity of religious and cultural forms like rivers back to the same eternal and infinite source. The mystics are the ones who are able to quiet even the spiritual mind; to make the transition from asking "why am I here?" to transcending the notion of an indivisible "I." So, paradoxically, I guess, the thing that grounds me is the same thing that removes the need for a ground! Again, I think this is the case for many artists, whether they define it this way or not.

You speak of building a narrative in which the erotic becomes fused with the sacred and celebratory. Is this a part of what you were talking about in our earlier conversation about this series challenging you in unexpected ways?

Indeed. Specifically, the incorporation of forms, colors and textures that make clear references to the human body has infused the geometry I've been working through for awhile with a kind of uncanny aliveness that I probably wouldn't have arrived at if I hadn't set out to make "geometric formalist erotica." So, thanks!

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

I am looking forward to seeing how the other artists you selected respond to this challenge. You've put together an excellent group, and I'm glad to be a part of it. I am also looking forward to giving a slide talk on the subject of Art, Sex, and Spirituality on Sunday, May 3rd at 2:30 p.m. See you there!

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Religions. All of them.

Emily, thanks for being part of this conversation!

Emily Pothast, Cauda Pavonis II (detail) 2009 collage and drawing
image courtesy of the artist

As always, you can visit SeattleErotic.Org to read up on the artists, Festival calendar, and performances.

Interview, Troy Gua

2009-04-24T09:26:00.000-07:00

Troy Gua is getting a lot of attention lately with his Pop Hybrid series. It's understandable; after all there's a lot going on. While initially attracted to their colourful varnished surface (think melted Jolly Ranchers), I couldn't help but look harder/closer to see there's so much more depth. Literally. Metaphorically. Troy uses a repetitive method of laminating, building up a physical layering and overlap that echoes the story.

Here's my conversation with Troy:

I don't think there was any great challenge to overcome, but I did try to steer clear of my own stereotypical thoughts of what erotic art is. I think my style tends to lean toward a certain sexiness on its own (I'd like to think so anyways), but I wanted to do something less overt than what I immediately think of as 'erotic' art. Something with a definite sex appeal, but relying more on the viewer to assign it their own level of eroticism.

I've got two pieces in the show, both of which I'm excited about. One is in my 'Pop-Hybrid' family of candy colored and coated, super-imposed graphic portraits, and the other is a bit more experimental and is something I'd like to continue working with and elaborate more on in the future.

The painting, titled The Pleasure's All Mine, depicts two women from the neck up, throwing their heads back in what appears to be ecstasy. The bottom few inches, just below the chin line, is a muted darkness from which the women have seemingly emerged into a moment of enlightened clarity, possibly an orgasmic experience. Whether they reached that point separate from each other or together, or with or without each other's (or an-other's) assistance are a couple of the questions that I think it poses. I hope viewers will have some of their own questions as well as answers and find it interesting enough to ask.

The second piece is called Tongue and Groove, and it's a sculptural wall piece in metal-flake paint on gator board, coated in resin. You asked me before what makes it erotic to me...I think the smooth, curving figures appear to be embracing each other, melting into each other, becoming each other. Are they two or one - or three? What are they? The piece is chock full of tongues and grooves, innies and outies, voids and hollows, appendages and extremities. I think it's suggestive of alchemy, chemistry, a union, an intercourse. All candy coated in the color of hot blood, love, lust, and topped off with a high-luster, permanently glossy wetness...and it makes you wanna touch it!

Your Pop Hybrids are designed to make us look closer at connections versus distance; they suggest that things are not unrelated or perhaps that they don't have to be. What is at the heart of your [comparative] investigation? How did you arrive at the Hybrids?

You know, this series really evolved out of a couple of others that I had done in the past. I was trying to unclog my creativity, if you will, to cleanse my style and start on a new path, and I was doing these abstract diptych and triptych paintings of overlapping circles in a very precise, minimalist style, and at the same time I was doing these simplified cut paper portraits between glass. Those two separate ideas just sort of morphed into one. I'm fascinated by the concept of overlapping - eras, personalities, philosophies, styles. Everything is overlapped to some degree, and I like the idea of looking closer at that with specific cases that everyone is familiar with, and wrapping them in a slick, shiny, futuristic package. There's been some evolution within the series as well. The very first piece was just overlapping versions of the same source image of a Buddha in varied distortion, which was nice, but I wanted to do something that I felt was clever, interesting and required a little bit of thought. I started putting personas together based on what I felt were obvious connections, and who also happened to have names that were easily attached to each other. Others I based solely on witty (some may say silly) combinations of name or title, and seeming utterly random, would force me to concoct a connection, eventually making complete sense, at least to me. All of the iconic characters I use mean something to me on a personal level, either through fascination, obsession, respect, reverence, or awe, and they've all somehow influenced me to various degrees.

The surfaces of your work (and your work overall) seem so slick. Can you tell us a little bit about your process, what goes into each piece?

Well, if you mean the final step, it's just a self-leveling resin epoxy of the type used for bars and table tops and such. The image itself is drawn out and hand-painted using acrylic and latex wall paint in several layers. No silk-screening, no stencils - not that there's anything wrong with that!

Will you be making more of these sculptural forms in the near future?

Yes, I do plan on it. I'm busy with work for a show at Vermillion in July and more Hybrids for SAM Gallery and the Alexis Hotel later in the year, but I would love to see more of these pieces take shape and turn into a whole new animal. Just need a nice big wall to cover. Anyone? Anyone?

I'm dying to know -- who are the girls in The Pleasure's all Mine? Are they picked at random or are they celebrities? Is it more important it remains a mystery? (your secret's safe with me)

I will say that one is an extremely high-profile sex symbol, and the other an average, everyday kind of person, but I do want to keep a little mystery. I guess the point of the combination there is that it doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, we're all doin' it.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

Just being involved with this event and being included among so many great artists such as yourself is a huge honor for me, so I must thank you for allowing me that pleasure. I'm really just excited to see what everyone brings to the table...and what they wear...or don't wear.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Just one? That's difficult. How about two? Sobriety and lack of pretense. Okay, I'll make it into one: A sober lack of pretense? Dead sexy.

Troy, thanks for playing :)

Thanks for including me! Great questions and fun times!

Don't forget, you can always visit SeattleErotic.Org to read up on the artists, Festival calendar, and performances.

Troy Gua, The Pleasure's All Mine (detail) 2009 resin coated enamel and acrylic on canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Troy Gua, Elton John Wayne 2008 resin coated enamel and acrylic on canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Mater Matrix Mother and Medium

2009-04-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

Today is a bit of a crunch so I'm taking a breather from the interviews I've been posting.

But!

I'd like to take a second and urge you to visit artist Mandy Greer's blog Mater Matrix Mother and Medium and read about her latest project, a community crocheted 200 foot long Fiber River; and the embodiment of that river in a performance by choreographer and dancer Zoe Scofield.

Mandy's project is close to my heart because as you know (or as you may be learning), the idea of bringing art off the gallery wall and into community has been and most definitely still is my chosen passion and purpose in life. In the past, I've enjoyed the quilting circle aspect of creating some of my tapestry work with the help of others, and fully believe the more people are involved with making the art, the more they'll want to be involved with art, period.

A description from Mandy's blog:

One of my strongest desires for this project is to bring its making out into the community, rather than solely behind studio doors. For the past several years creating my large installations has involved, in some part, asking for volunteer help from friends and acquaintances in my studio. The flow of conversation that always happens while people are working with their hands has always intrigued me; I’d like to open up that conversation on a larger scale with the people in all our communities in Seattle.

I don't possibly think I could be any more excited about a project of this scale! I look forward to joining Ms. Greer in May and June whenever possible, and you should too.

Mandy will be keeping a calendar of her whereabouts and is encouraging people of all sizes (yay, kids!) and inclinations to join her in creating this project.

Mater Matrix is on Twitter

...and on Facebook

close up view of the river, Mandy Greer

I have borrowed this image (taken by Jen Zwick) from her blog

Interview, Rich Lehl

2009-04-22T08:58:00.000-07:00

Rich Lehl is a local artist whose work gathers together whimsy, wistful, humorous, and dreamlike all at once. You could call it Pop-Surrealism, but I'd disagree with you. There's something a little more philosophically sinister under all that fantasy -- it's not about weird big heads and crazy scenes. Like a Hitchcock film, Lehl's work is quietly stating that Something is Going On, and it's up to you to find your place in it.

This was a really great conversation. Enjoy.

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

I didn't want the painting to be cliché and make something that was trying too hard to be erotic. As I do with a lot of my work, I incorporated a sense of humor into it.

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

I wanted the image to take place in a setting I'm familiar with—the American suburban backyard. From there, I added another familiar element. A man watering his yard and plants, but with a twist. I think the image talks about a distinctly male experience of primal self-gratification within the day-to-day routines of suburban life.

Rich, I'm thrilled to see you approached eroticism from the perspective of male experience. Is it suggested self gratification is an ambivalent act? Is this idea of a daily performance tapping into a deeper commentary about what is defined as a male role?

I don't think I'm saying that male self-gratification is an ambivalent act. In fact, it's quite the opposite in this painting. I think what I was trying to get at was that for a man it can be a spontaneous, uninhibited, and primal experience even in a somewhat controlled environment like a suburban backyard. I guess that's where the irony lies in this painting.

In much of your work, you seem to have fun juxtaposing the mundane with the fantastic; the bucolic with urban grit. How does that play into the eroticism of your piece?

I think for this piece those themes enter the work by way of the subject and the context in which this moment of self-gratification is taking place—a man watering the lawn in his quiet, suburban American backyard.

What do you think it is that's so fascinating about fantasy or the idyllic butting up against the every day? Is it the American Dream rubbing elbows with Reality?

I've always enjoyed tweaking what appears to be real and turning it upside down a bit to allow us to ask ourselves where we fit into reality or normal day-to-day life. I think that's what I find so fascinating about it. Within some of my work I think it is the American Dream having a dialogue with reality, but I think it's more broad than that. It's more exposing and exaggerating the surreal or the unexplained that already exists in reality.

Is the American Dream inherently masculine or is the masculinity of it what's interesting to you personally?

I think the American Dream is inherently masculine. I think the quest to find the ideal lifestyle goes back to the beginning of civilization. The man, as the hunter and gatherer, has always been searching for and seduced by this quest to find a better way of life. I think what I find interesting about it, is that this dream is really just a dream and provides a fascinating context to question and see where man really fits into it.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

Seeing some great original art that I've never seen before.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

A freshly mowed lawn.

Thanks Rich!

You can visit SeattleErotic.Org to read up on the artists, Festival calendar, and performances.

Rich Lehl, Gardening with Joe (detail) 2009 oil on panel
image courtesy of the artist

Rich Lehl, White Out 2005 oil on panel
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Robert Hardgrave

2009-04-21T09:02:00.000-07:00

Robert Hardgrave doesn't fall back on the cliché description of self-taught, he describes himself as self-developed. I like this, because work like his challenges our idea of where art comes from. Some would say that it comes from Academia and a CV full of particular criteria. I say it doesn't come from an MFA. It comes from our experience. And why not? After all, Hardgrave's does.

Here's my interview with Robert:

I sort of ignored the subject and simply went forward as I typically make work. Although in the back of my mind I'm sure that simple suggestion of the word "erotic" sparked some sort of subconscious reaction. My current work sort of has a sort of fluid sensual quality to it anyhow, so I didn't find it that difficult to produce. Normally I wouldn't consider my work erotic but somehow I guess it could be. Who would've thunk? As the work progressed the work "rapture" began to come into my mind. I just went with it.

How does the use of colour impact the stories you are telling in your work/in this specific piece?

I am including two pieces for the show and they both have a different color palettes. In "Generally Speaking" the use of iridescent paint adds and extra touch to the sensual quality of the mark making. In the correct light it is extremely vibrant. "Catholicon" is more sexually suggestive without being too overt, with an inner and an outer.

In your biography you explicitly state that your work is about life. I see this reflected in the expressive intricacy of your images and mark-making. Is there a kind of mythology in the world you create? Is sensuality, either intentional or incidental, another celebration or aspect of the life we celebrate?

There are reoccurring themes in my work dealing with disease and recovery, life past death and the cycle of life. As my current work is evolving into the abstract, being more about the immediacy of the mark making, the mythologies are becoming more subtle. The sensuality of my work is incidental yet reflects the enjoyment of being alive and able to make expressive paintings.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

I've never been so just going should be fun.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Black and white drawings with a ton of contrast and plenty of gray tones.

Thanks again Robert. I look forward to meeting you!

Thanks Sharon!!

As always, if you're curious and want to learn more, please visit SeattleErotic.Org!

Robert Hardgrave, Generally Speaking (detail) 2008 acrylic on canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Robert Hardgrave, Valhalla ink on paper
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Derrick Jeffries

2009-04-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

Derrick Jeffries explores close-up photography with an effect that suggests either disembodied parts or deep sea creatures, depending on which era of his work you are viewing. Jeffries beckons us to look a little closer at the world. It's a gentle nudge, but not without the intent of making you think about what you see.

Here's my conversation with Derrick:

Most of my work is centered around the parameter of scale. There is a rich diversity of form in the very small but there is a redundancy of that form where macro photography is concerned. The work in the Festival is part of my undergraduate thesis and the subject matter is plant based. It would initially (and commonly) be the flower that would be explored as an erotic subject in these instances since it is the sexual organ of the plant but I was more drawn to form than function. I explored the cellular structure of fleshy fruits and found that they closely resembled the volume, creasing and coloring of the human form. Once I avoided the obvious subject matter of the flower and looked towards the mimetic quality of subjects that pointed to, rather than were part of, erotic or sexual qualities, my search for the unexpected was easier.

I arrived at this series through a series of explorations with my digital camera. I will often reserve most of my creative time doing 'research' which is a long process of documentation and experimenting. I am actually unsure at when and how exactly I stumbled upon fruit as a subject matter but knew after a few photographs that the subject is rich in diversity. As to what it is I am trying to convey, I think that many viewers find an icky kinship with many of the forms. They both disturb and excite people because their forms are very primordial and sexual. Probing, warping, copulating and spawning are some of the implied actions and they speak to some of the more amoral aspects of eroticism.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

I look forward to meeting other artists who have similar aesthetic interests as my work. While it is sometimes difficult to define what it is an artist will be drawn to, it is easy to point to certain things and say, "That...I love that". My hopes is that I meet other artists who see eroticism in the same light as I do. Perhaps there will be an opportunity for collaboration.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

I think casts on arms are sexy. I've never had a broken bone and I think I am drawn to the juvenille recklessness of people with broken arms. Casts assume a strange carapace quality as they are a shell protecting a fleshy and vulnerable interior. It's only on arms that I find this sexy for some reason.

Thanks Derrick, I really look forward to seeing your work at the show!

You can always read up on our artists; and to find out more about tickets and performances, please visit SeattleErotic.Org!

Derrick Jeffries, Cerebellum (detail) 2007 archival ink jet print
image courtesy of the artist

Interview , Draga Jovanovic

2009-04-17T09:40:00.000-07:00

Artist Draga Jovanovic caught my eye because of her focus on portraiture with a dirty twist. Not dirty like sexual dirty, although that interpretation wouldn't be off base either (though it would be base).

No, Jovanovic's photography is Marilyn Minter dirty. Something is going on in that world. It could be violent, it could be empowering. Her figures are brazenly filthy and bejeweled with an unsettling Olympian gaze back at the camera; back at you. What are you looking at? They know, but you still have to decide.

Here's Draga, talking about her work, in which she is the subject:

"I want to explore the character of modern society through the prism of the erotic. Using self-portraits I can describe my attitude towards the world and explore the attitude of the world towards me. Sexual energy is a major actuator and has a power that very often cannot be ignored or controlled. There are many cases of people’s behaviour being aggressive and destructive and often depressed because of sexual dissatisfaction.

"Our sexual energy is captive within us. Our society is afraid of it on the one hand, curious about it and desirous of it on the other hand. We are all spectators and bystanders of today’s sex industry. It has a double life in contemporary society: it exists but lives invisibly behind the curtains; it is all around us but we feign ignorance and pretend to be disinterested. Two-faced, double standard, and hypocrisy are the words that characterise modern society when we talk about erotica and sex. We are living in intolerable intolerance within ourselves. Our sexual fantasies and imaginings are more vigorous and intense than that which is acceptable within the constraints of our moral and social norms or beliefs. I want to embrace myself in that fantasy, to show that I adore and despise it, to show that it fulfils and frustrates me.

"Our sexual instincts are so repressed and these repressed imaginings and locked up sexual energies work so intensively in our subconscious that it manifests in extreme behaviours and mental and/or emotional disorders. Sexuality and nudity have been a taboo theme for centuries, and it exists in society as a latent obsession and the ultimate forbidden fruit. The world we live in is full of absurdities and contradictions. Male domination is significant. Being a woman who is aware of her sexuality is still taboo. I have always seen sex and erotica as facts of life. Consequently to choose this theme for my work was obvious and logical.

In my photography I am desirable. Sometimes I seduce, sometimes I am in trance, and this is
juxtaposed against the latent nihilism and anarchy which is always just under the surface. I use
very heavy make-up to show different facial expressions and to make it difficult to recognize
myself. The portrait is always situated in the foreground and its expression is dominant. "

As always, for tickets, info, and more on our artists, please visit SeattleErotic.Org!

Draga Jovanovich, Self (detail) 2008 archival inkjet print

Interview, Gretchen Bennett

2009-04-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

If you live in Seattle, you've probably heard of Gretchen Bennett. Or you've seen her work -- she splits her time between Seattle and Brooklyn, leaving a trail of fawns and other whimsical stickers in her wake. She also put up a few of her Nirvana stills on the old Jack in the Box for the Broadway public art project, STart on Broadway.

Here's my conversation with Gretchen:

I wanted to loosely recreate a scene from Gus Van San't film, Last Days, in which a small band of party people have just come home. As they literally begin to pile into the living room, someone puts the Velvet Underground's Venus in Furs on the turntable and sings along in the post-party, pre-dawn haze.

The song is erotically charged, but my delivery, following along roughly with the original, is very lo-key and private. I wanted to re-depict those moments. I wanted to reflect certain lyrics Lou Reed evenly sings: I am tired, I am weary, I could sleep for a thousand years.

Gretchen, what I love most about your work is the intimacy and the tenderness in execution. There's a sense of labor, but it's almost like care-taking. Is there something in your work about invoking the past, about nurturing memory?

It's about memory. And about re-enactment as self-description. Its the capture of what might have happened in an actual moment of importance, as a fictive presentation on-screen by Gus Van Sant (the scene from "Last Days"), and then re-presented by me. This process is elliptical like song lyrics or a book reread after a few years. The second or third reading of something is different from the first. The broad strokes I use to replay this stretch of the film are intentional. My depiction of this Van Sant scene is like the time between readings, when you are recalling by memory what happened. I’m not trying to recreate the scene, I'm covering it, in the way a musician covers songs.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

I'm hoping there is ice cream

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

intellect, lavender ice cream

Thanks so much for giving me your time Gretchen. It's been really fun to work with you on this project!

For more details on the event and how to get tickets, please visit SeattleErotic.Org!

Gretchen Bennett, Venus in furs 2009 video still (detail)
image courtesy of the artist

Gretchen Bennett Have a Hangover 2008 Prismacolor pencils on paper
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Laura Castellanos

2009-04-14T09:13:00.001-07:00

Laura Castellanos is a local artist in Seattle who's got a lot of love and imagination to give to the world, and her joyful enterprise bummerbunny has captured the hearts of people nationwide. You can see Laura talking about her work with Nancy Guppy here on ArtZone.

Here's Laura talking with me (questions posted yesterday):

To be honest, my initial thoughts went straight to the "gutter". So, instead of going against them, I decided to be playful and reference an ancient “sex symbol”… the Venus of Willendorf.

I knew that the best way for me to come up with something especially for the Seattle Erotic Art Festival would be to make an attempt at expressing intimacy, approachability, and impulsiveness. The piece that came out, “Pink Venus” is a small, spur of the moment cardboard painting, which I hope will create a light spirited connection with viewers.

One of the things I love most about your work is that you really give us an entry into joy and into art as a whole. I can really see how this functions particularly well in an erotic piece! Is this part of a larger philosophy you might have of connecting art to people?

I love creating and believe that the sense of play and discovery one can channel while in the act of creating can often reach “cosmic-erotic” intensity. It is my intention to manifest this energy unto the work (self/object) and to create a spark or moment of transitory togetherness with the viewer.

I know you've created this world of characters and protagonists with your paintings. If they all met and had a big party together, what would they be celebrating?

These characters ARE having a party and my guess is that they are celebrating each other’s secrets!

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

The experience with SEAF has been very positive…thanks Sharon! I’m really looking forward to meeting participating artists and to continue having a positive connection with the Festival. I think it’s going to be fun and I’m planning on making some “Pink Venus” urban visionary art buttons to give away at the event!!!

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

self-control

Thanks Laura, I'm looking forward to seeing your buttons adorning the finery at the Festival!

As always, if you're curious and want to learn more, please visit SeattleErotic.Org!

Laura Castellanos, Pink Venus (detail) 2009 oil on cardboard

Laura Castellanos, Star Gazer 2009 oil on cardboard

Interview, Jessica Dodge

2009-04-13T09:57:00.000-07:00

As you know by now, I've been posting artist interviews for the last week and will do so up until the Seattle Erotic Art Festival opens on 1 May. These are the artists I've invited to show in a sort of show-within-a-show for the duration of the Festival, open through Sunday 3 May.

I'm switching up the format to be less tedious. There were a few questions I asked each artist, and followed up with a few more questions specifically tailored for each. The initial questions were:

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art".

What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

With that in mind, let me share my interview with artist Jessica Dodge:

I want to speak to the difference between a piece where the primary purpose is eroticism (or "self-consciously" erotic) and one that is "erotic" but not exclusively so; the stereotype being that the effect of the "erotic" trumps all other elements just by it's mere presence in a given artwork.

In making art that speaks to the experience of being human, as is my intent, the sensual, sexual or erotic imagery in my work can be an organic part of the whole concept. I generally don't create a work exclusively for erotic purposes (not that I haven't) however I have no particular qualms about using imagery that conveys an erotic charge, if it serves the overall purpose of the piece. Where I personally draw a line is if that "charge" becomes the over-riding theme, where all that is perceived by the viewer is the erotic; What is more compelling for me is an artwork that is a mix, a blending of elements ... I prefer eroticism used as a spice, an ingredient, not the main dish.

In the piece "Nothing to See" I was not aiming at making an "erotic" painting per se, but it is part of a series that plays with the idea of "seeing" and "being seen": as such, with voyeurism as a subplot, there is an inherent eroticism that brings the viewer into the scene and encourages them to imagine their own story as one might if happening upon a lit window and seeing into someone's private world.

Jessica the overall impression of your current work is that you're pointing us towards something, narrowing the focus to make us look closer. You've gone from fantasy, spectacle and myth to reality. Why the change, what are you seeing? What do your protagonists see beyond our view?

I don't think I'm ever too far from the narrative tendency when conceiving and creating paintings. Initially, in the archetypes of Greek Mythology (a love from childhood) I found a language I could employ in my work for many years. The potent historical/psychological/cultural resonance of those stories and characters were a rich source for me to draw upon.

But the old stories aren't as well known as they once were and often I found myself having to explain who the characters were and what they did, reducing the symbolic weight of them as metaphor to merely arcane tales of fantasy. I will continue to utilize the Greek, Hebrew and Christian myths at times because they still have meaning and continuity for me, however, I realize that it is the human stories and the struggle to define "human-ness" contained in them that really compels me. So to that inquiry there are many roads; I enjoy moving between satire, allegory and sometimes straight up spectacle. I often feel compelled to give it a meta-purpose (to make it part of a series, for example).

I do a form of realism, my work has aways been representational and so I often swing back and forth from larger scenarios of narrative to individuals and then, recently, right into that most expressive of features, the eye (I was interested to see how much a viewer would surmise about the whole person when only being shown this discrete piece). You can find threads of all these ideas in earlier examples of my work.

Ultimately, what interests me most is the presence of palpable life and the many forms that might take ... along with a little mystery, of course.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

People Watching.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

the scent of fresh basil

Thanks Jessica! For more information on the Festival calendar and how to get tickets, please visit SeattleErotic.Org!

Jessica Dodge, Nothing to See (detail) 2008 oil on glass

Jessica Dodge Black Hat 2008 oil on glass

Interview, Sara Zin

2009-04-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

Seattle Artist Sara Zin focuses intensely on the close-up nude. I was immediately stricken by the tenderness and intimacy of her work, not to mention her ability to capture the figure in a romantic, dappled light.

Sara speaks about her work with me here:

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

This wasn't a challenge, but a pleasure since I was not thinking about what others expected to see and instead thought of what I wanted to paint for this show. I also think that my paintings are open to interpretation and naturally lend themselves to this subject.

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

The work I am showing has no elaborate story to tell, but is rather an attempt at capturing a quiet, intimate moment in time.

When going through your work, I'm enveloped in the world of the subject. I'm caught in a moment, searching a stranger's face for an expression or an emotion. I can almost hear them breathing. You seem to be interested in the moment between words. Is the silence part of the narrative? In a world where we suffer so much isolation, do you find your work brings us closer to another person? What is the story you are telling yourself (if not us) when you are painting?

As individuals, we are drawn to each other in a near constant search for intimacy and communication. As an artist, I feel that figurative work allows an intimacy that can be both very personal and conveniently distant. I am especially drawn to the face, since one can express many layers of meaning, and can result in a variety of interpretations. My works are largely a series of portraits, however in the process of creating them I know they are finished when I no longer see a face, but when I see a moment in time. Silence is a part of my work because I often feel that more can be said through silence. I feel that my work can be interpreted in many ways and can bring people closer in the act of questioning oneself.

Painting for me is a form of meditation and reflection. The story I am telling through my work, can be considered a biography or impression of my thoughts and feelings. Throughout my process, I search for a sense of purity and beauty in capturing moments and as an artist I enjoy sharing my ideas.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

This will be my first year attending the Seattle Erotic Art Festival, and I'm looking forward to the whole experience.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

The rain, sometimes.

Sara, thanks for taking the time to talk about your work! You can catch up on more Festival details here!

Sara Zin ReflectionV (detail) Oil on Canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Reflection VI Reflection Oil on Canvas
image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Joey Veltkamp

2009-04-08T11:05:00.000-07:00

Artist Joey Veltkamp is always a really fun guy to talk to. He's also pretty introspective himself, delving deep into the minds of artists with his own set of interviews on his blog, Best Of.

Here's my conversation with Joey:

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

I would have had no problem delivering a stereotypical piece of erotic art. In fact, I had a few paintings laying around. However, with SEAF, I wanted to create a piece that was erotic without being explicit.

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

My piece for the festival allowed me to revisit a previous series of 70s gay porn I began working on a couple of years ago. The pieces were bold in both color and content. But at the end of the day, I wanted something sweet and not overtly erotic.

A common thread in your work seems to be sweetness and nostalgia -- the West, flowers, animals. That lens makes your erotic piece all the more interesting! Is this idea of nostalgia tapping into a deeper philosophy you have?

I was born in Montana and spent my formative years there. I think my nostalgia comes from trying to recreate favorite moments of my childhood. I was talking to Leo Berk about a piece of his art the other day. As the discussion progressed, he isolated the exact point of his childhood that later influenced him to create this piece of art we were talking about. I might paint a peony because it was the same peony my grandma had in her yard when I was young. Or I might paint a bucking bronco because of the time I watched my dad get bucked off a horse. My paintings are pretty literal. And while I think it would be hard for me to create a happy life in Montana (or any rural setting), I think that emotionally, my art is still very tied to that state!

How does that play into the eroticism of your piece?

I'd say my art is definitely born of the 1970s and the majority of my inspiration still comes from that decade. My sense of nostalgia has a strong current of eroticism running through it. To me, there's nothing more handsome than the ruggedness of fellas from that time period. And my ideal partner? That would be Grizzly Adams (circa 1977).

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

Not having any expectations, I'm just excited to see the crowd and what other artists have created. I have a feeling that the people will be even more interesting than the art. I can't wait to see it all!

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Uh, elbow patches are my weakness. There are few things sexier than a bearded man in a tweed jacket (with elbow patches)!

Joey, thanks for such a fun exchange of thoughts and ideas. You can catch up on the Festival details here!

Joey Veltkamp, 1977 in blue (detail) 2009 acrylic & resin on canvas

image courtesy of the artist

Joey Veltkamp, River Bears 2007 acrylic on canvas 3' x 4'

image courtesy of the artist

Interview, Seattle Erotic Art Festival Invited Artist Ryan Molenkamp

2009-04-07T09:27:00.000-07:00

So the dust has settled and we're on our way. I found I wanted to continue an interesting conversation I seemed to be having with everyone separately, so I sat down and wrote up a few interview questions for the artists I've invited to participate in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival.

I've decided to start with Ryan Molenkamp, because his process for this piece is fascinating. Here's our conversation together:

Whether or not it's conscious, people seem to expect a certain thing when they think of "erotic art". What was the greatest challenge or stereotype for you to overcome in making an erotic piece in your own voice?

I do not normally work in the realm of "erotic art".

People have preconceived notions when they hear the term "erotic art". I have them myself, and they are not all positive, in fact, I'm pretty critical of any work that would purposefully define itself as erotic art. It brings to mind art as acts of narcissistic sexual showboating. Masturbating in art. Much art is quite self-loving, and often quite sexual, and you'll find it in galleries, museums and all over. However, what I have seen of works that define themselves as "erotic art" seem to take it to a further level. They can often be in danger of looking like porn done with technical artistic prowess. Therefore, to get back to your question, the greatest challenge for me was overcoming my own quite strong, critical judgments of erotic art and figuring out way that I could incorporate a sense of the erotic into my own work without making a criticism of the genre.

How did you arrive at the work you'll be showing in the Festival? Where is it you're taking us/what story are you telling (the viewer)?

As I hinted at in my previous answer, I did not want to do a work that was at all attacking the idea of "erotic art", not something that was too tongue-in-cheek either, both which were immediate, natural responses for me when approaches with this project. Instead, I struggled to find something I could do within my own style and process that would be an honest answer. I toyed with several ideas, work having to do with past erotic relationships, work that incorporated sensual imagery into my current style, and a few other things...but nothing seemed interesting enough to pursue.

I decided to focus on the idea of process. How can I do a piece, within my current series of work, that ads some idea eroticism? I decided to treat it as a problem. As an obstacle. An Erotic Obstacle. I needed an object, a person, a person I was attracted to. Not necessarily someone I planed on being intimate with, but someone that I was attracted to, someone who seemed at least somewhat attracted to me as well. A certain level of flirtation. This person would be the Erotic Obstacle. We would make a painting together. A painting within the current series I am working on. With every mark made on the panel, she would hold her hand on mine. She would have a voice in my ear, giving input as we worked. We would sit against and on each other as we worked. No mark can be made without her hand involved.

How would this change my process, with this very tactical, sensual obstacle at my side? Will it have an affect on the look of the piece, or will it simply effect my mental state as the work is being created?

I wanted to follow up with some questions and your answers are so thoughtful I don't think I can! Is there anything you want to elaborate on? I remember in the beginning we had a very interesting mini-conversation about landscape and the body; topography and shape.

Ah, I see.

We did talk about landscape and the landscape of the body, especially. It is no unique idea at all to think of the body as a landscape, so often do I seem to come across allusions to peaks and valleys in the form. And there are so many examples of form in landscape that reminds people of human shape...it's that same kind of thinking that I encounter when someone points out faces in what appears to otherwise be a very abstract composition. Often the artist does not intend for a face to be there, bu the viewer will still see it. We look for ourselves in these things. How many mountains are named sleeping lady, sleeping giant, sleeping man, etc....how many cliff faces have been described as profile of so-and-so....

Why we so often choose to see ourselves in landscape, or in abstraction I have no idea.

For this particular piece, I have not chosen to explore these ideas, however, I will not be surprised if viewers of the work pick out a human form, or a face, in the imagery of the piece. In fact I quite expect it. Especially since they will be saturated with human form image, bombarded even, at SEAF.

People will look at this little landscape, with it's abstract structure, and they will assume a great deal about the work. Once they read the title of the piece, they will have a different understanding and reaction altogether.

What do you most look forward to in this year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival?

I'm looking forward to seeing how other artists who do not normally work in this genre have come up with solutions and new work that fits eroticism. Additionally I am looking forward to seeing just how far off my preconceived notions were. And also, the spectacle. There will be great spectacle at an event this large and charged.

Give us one thing you think is unexpectedly sexy:

Intelligent ambition. And the corners of a beautiful mouth-the way a little smile can happen just in that centimeter right at the end.

Thanks Ryan for such a fantastic and meaty discussion! Further details on the event may be found here.

Ryan Molenkamp, Every Mark Was Made With Her Hand On Mine And Her Suggestion In My Ear
2009 oil on panel 8 "x 16"
image courtesy of the artist

Ryan Molenkamp, Island Life, 2006 Oil on masonite, 30" x 23"
image courtesy of the artist

Art Imitates Sex Imitates Art

2009-04-06T09:54:00.000-07:00

Art is inherently sexy. I've been talking to many artists lately about how the mere process of making art is an act of sensuality. The connectivity, the emotional ground, the intimate nature of just you and what you are making. It's the sound of your breath, it's the endless touch, it's the focussed energy, and it's the Gaze. No one has embodied this idea more explicitly for the Festival than artist Ryan Molenkamp, whose entire piece was about the erotic process of making art. The work itself isn't necessarily an erotic image, but it's entirely imbued with the presence and history of its charge. I can hardly explain the beauty I found in this small melodrama, how I thought about my own work and the ways in which I'm intimately bound to my process.

But it's odd and uncomfortable to bring up “erotic art” in every day conversation when there's a bizarre stigma. Our Puritanical roots (oh blah blah) inform us that if we don't have that solid two by eight plank between us and the world, our sins will condemn us to Hell. This is confusing in a society which pummels us with sex in nearly every imaginable arena – advertising, self help, talk shows, video games, cinema – sex sells because to some degree we all want it. Do we seek sex because we're seeking something Other or something within the Self? Aren't we all looking for an energy or connectivity on a higher level than what our daily life provides? Sex on its own is a pure survival instinct. It's vapid, unquenchable; an empty hole. Perhaps this is what causes the aversion to sexy art. Or sexual art. Perhaps we simply want something More.

What turns us on is a completely different story. Some of us are sensual, some of us are romantic, some of us are hard core. Some of us use sex as power, some as an emotional catalyst. Some of us need to be married, some need multiplicity. A large part of us wants to be seduced, its' just we don't all agree on how. Enter eroticism, that perennially unique signifier of personal sexuality. We'll never agree on it. Eroticism isn't even just cultural any more. We can't unanimously agree on a body type, a facial characteristic, a sexual lifestyle.

This is not the sex of the downtrodden or disadvantaged. This is not even porn. This is a cross section of a society's collected perspective of what is sexy in today's culture. The Seattle Erotic Art Festival is nothing if not fully Democratic – you may not like everything you see or hear but you have to acknowledge it has a place there. And isn't that what art and life is supposedly about? This Festival is a safe place for celebrating and encouraging sexuality in all its incarnations: love, happiness, joy, acceptance, reaching out, crossing bridges, longing, kinship, distance, closeness, storytelling, whimsy, acceptance, rejection, control, losing control, risk.

It sounds to me art and sex have a lot more in common than one might think. Wouldn't you agree?

The 2009 Seattle Erotic Art Festival will celebrate its seventh year May 1-3, 2009 in the Exhibition Hall at Seattle Center. Tickets are on sale now at Brown Paper Tickets. For more information about the Festival event, visit the Seattle Erotic Art Festival website.

I mean I don't really have to spell out a lesson in art history, do I? She's lookin' at *you*, kid.
Why not tell the truth?
Olympia Édouard Manet, 1863 Oil on canvas Musée d'Orsay, Paris

Another Day in the Office (Monday according to Tron)

2009-03-23T09:17:00.001-07:00

Dumont, you look sleepy, you need something to pick you up!

how about a cookie?

...
...
...

The Tao of Cartography

2009-03-18T07:19:00.000-07:00

breadcrumbs, detail rust (from steel) on Rives Heavyweight 2008

Art is like a mirror. Always working, always reflecting; but only coming to life when one stands in front of it.

If the tone of my new blog is different than expected, I am already successful. This time it's not meant to be about reporting or instigating (well perhaps a little instigation is inevitable. stay tuned!). It's meant to be a recording. A map.

My writing is acting as a mirror. Jotted down thoughts reflect my process. Every time I sew a stitch, draw a cell, roll wet paper over a rusted plate, I'm recording a moment. I'm pulling lat and long together in a map. My process is (at the moment) all encompassing and inescapable.

"...creating a map means ignoring everything in the world but one thing...that one thing could be a map of bus routes or air traffic control patterns, the homes of Hollywood stars, or it could be the cracks in the sidewalk. Maps have meaning because they filter out all the chaos in the world and focus obsessively on one item..."

Ira Glass , This American Life

Mapping

10.19.2007