4.21.2009

eighty.eight


Inspired by the poem below. Both tree pieces were created using text from the poem. Attempts to convey the certain mood that was prevalent today - mixture of grey rain, melancholy piano music, and disappointment. Is the text as an object too. . . ? Contrived?

eighty.seven


The world's love runs thin.
Human love turns evil.
Rain strips, in the yellow twilight,
the flowers from the branches.

The dawn wind will dry my tear stains.
I try to write down the trouble of my heart.
I can only speak obliquely, exhausted.
It is hard, hard.
We are each of us all alone.

Today is not yesterday.
My troubled mind sways
like the rope of a swing.
A horn sounds in the cold depth of the night.

Afraid of people's questions
I will swallow my tears
and pretend to be happy.
Deceit. Deceit. Deceit.


To the Tune of a Phoenix Hairpin
T'ang Wan, 12th century

eighty.six


The pen and the paint don't interact enough in this piece. I don't really care for it.

eighty.five


I should be studying for finals, but painting came as a welcome and extended break. Exploration with words derived from a few poems that I've recently discovered.
I like the poem but not my painting (they're not really meant to be consumed in conjunction)


patterns.
you see a shoddy quilt
buried under the wooden rocking horse
and the doll who’s missing an eye
75 cent quilt
each bland square sewn together
by strings of deceit
isolated
like your godforsaken life
machine made and artificial
each stitch contrived
false
lower the price
50 cents is all you’re worth now
yet still you wait
under the Cyclops doll
(the horse sold for 7 dollars)
colors faded
drab and unfeeling
emotions standardized
habitual
conforming to a boring pattern
neatly partitioned into squares
25 cents in your friendless corner
even the deformed doll
was worth 3 dollars
you're
composed of cheap cotton
endless squares of regret
patterns of futility
15 cents
moth-eaten
5 cents
forgotten

4.13.2009

eighty.four


Earlier I said I would possibly include some of my ramblings that inspire my works, so here's a start. This time I have made the words apart of, or actually made them the main part of the piece.

eighty.three


One of my favorites of the set. The cardboard box was printed "Bainbridge Art Supplies", so I turned it upside down and painted around inb and t to highlight those letters. I then wrote the same letters freehand below, flipping the t to form quit. Lastly, I painted my letters red to match the red of the printed letters. My letters obviously aren't perfect, but for not having a stencil they aren't bad : )... I enjoy the hand-written look in contrast to the printed letters anyway.

eighty.two


This is long but stick with it... wow. I have much to think about now.
"There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell. I believe that the most lawless and inordinate loves are less contrary to God’s will than a self-invited and self-protective lovelessness…We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as a way in which they should break, so be it. What I know about love and believe about love and giving ones heart began in this."

The Four Loves
C.S. Lewis, Irish novelist, essayist, theologian, etc.. (1898-1963)

eighty.one


Painting is the only thing that's made sense lately. Even though I could barely find appropriate painting supplies tonight, I desperately needed to create something - anything. For this I simply wrote words and then used paint to highlight or obscure certain ones.
I believe my artwork is most often driven by my experiences and my feelings regarding them. As a result, sometimes I simply must create. . . other times I have to force myself to come up with anything. I think consistency would be helpful in this matter - making myself paint each day, regardless outward circumstances or inner feelings. What do you do to motivate yourself on a day when painting seems like more of a burden than anything?

eighty


Home for Easter. This series was a study in limitations - all my paints are at school, so I was limited to a random tube of Cadmium Red acrylic that I found hiding, some cheap paintbrushes, and two miniature tubes of black and white gouache. I painted on cardboard that was formerly a Bainbridge art supplies box. The limited palette was challenging yet freeing at the same time. I hate making decisions, so having only 1 color to choose from made the color selection process much easier. The green splotch on the S was already on the cardboard box.

4.11.2009

seventy.eight - .nine


No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed;
Lay that on your heart,
My young angry dear;
This truth, this hard and precious stone,
Lay it on your hot cheek,
Let it hide your tear.
Hold it like a crystal
When you are alone
And gaze in the depths of the icy stone.
Long, look long and you will be blessed:
No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed.

Sarah Teasdale, American lyrical poet (1884-1933)


I love how words can enhance art... music sometimes explains words... art informs music. I don't know if this particular poem effectively goes with these images or not; I had not originally put them together. The images were inspired by who-knows-what, and the poem simply spoke to me deeply... however, the pairing interests me.
In future posts, I'd like to couple more poetry with art and even music in an effort to explore the interconnected relationships. Usually when I'm painting or drawing, I think first in words (not necessarily sentences) and then transfer that to image, whether it is abstract or realistic. I should include some of that random poetry/rambling in future posts as well, I suppose, if it's not too intimate. The trick with incorporating words in art, I think, is to avoid being too obvious. I don't think the words should completely explain the picture (or vice versa). The viewer should be compelled to think and to make his or her own connections between the words and images.

Mail Art


This was the lovely surprise waiting for me when I arrived home for Easter... mail art from Lydia. I love the way that she layered colors and the way that she provided variation with soft edges vs. hard edges. The cream colored splatter at the bottom middle is especially compelling to me. At first the white sticker from the post office was disappointing, but now I think it adds a point of interest - an unexpected, stark white geometric shape in contrast to Lydia's organic, free-form shapes. Here's the other half of our correspondence.

4.09.2009

seventy.seven


Blind Insomnia 4
This one puzzled me the most when I opened my eyes to see what it looked like. I wrote "eyes" with obvious intent, scratching through the word since I had no eyes when I drew the piece. I then proceeded to draw eyes, but I didn't think they would actually end up being recognizable forms. The placement of each eye leads across the entire page and turned out nicely too. It's weird that this piece is so cohesive yet had almost no specific intention and certainly no guidance.

seventy.six


Blind Insomnia 3
Something about birds keeps coming back tonight... even in my "eyes closed" sketches.

seventy.five


Blind Insomnia 2
"I am a night painter, so when I come into the studio the next morning the delirium is over. I come into the studio very fearfully, I creep in to see what happened the night before. And the feeling is one of, 'My God, did I do that?'"
Philip Guston, Canadian-born American Abstract Expressionist Painter (1913-1980)

I adore Guston's statement.
The delirium of the night is captivating. I'm a bit apprehensive to revisit these paintings tomorrow, however.

seventy.four


Blind Insomnia 1
This is truly an automatic drawing. . . a Surrealist product of my subconscious. . . drawn with my eyes closed. The paint was obviously added after (eyes open). Interesting study, and quite freeing.

seventy.three


The addition of color gave this piece a story...adding interest to otherwise very plain lines.

seventy.two


"Art is never finished, only abandoned."
Leonardo da Vinci, Italian painter/genius (1452-1519)

A provocative thought on the age-old question - how does one know when a piece of art is complete?

seventy.one


This one has a not-so-subtle theme. . .
the bleeding ink is effective in the green, though balance is a bit off with the addition of color.

seventy


These paintings are an experimentation with "automatic drawing", in the vein of the Surrealists (think Jean Arp, "automatic drawing" 1918). I allowed the pen to flow somewhat freely (you can see where I was more intentional in my rendering). I then added watercolor intentionally, though the ink bleeding into the watercolor happened spontaneously. I like how the ink dulls down the bright watercolors.

sixty.nine


I call this next series "i'm going to hate myself when i have to get up in just a few hours." Just kidding. I've been somewhat of an insomniac lately, for whatever reason. Tonight/this morning I just needed to create something- anything. I enjoy the hours after midnite... when all is quiet, I'm alone with my thoughts... every sensation seems heightened. Music is more meaningful, colors take on different personalities, and my pen or brush travels more freely. I am relaxed and content. Slightly sleepy, but I think that adds to the Surrealism/release of my subconscious...

Response...

My own musings inspired by Jen’s post about “hard art”

I'm not really sure where I stand in the "hard" art debate. I agree that Art needs to take a new direction and possibly reevaluate the “anything goes” mentality. Viewing traditional European portrait artists as the epitome of good art, however, just doesn’t sit well with me. Yes, the artists were highly talented, yet many of them simply painted what they knew and in the tradition they were taught. Surely the many, many portraits produced back then were sometimes done without thought, the artists employing painterly “tricks” to achieve certain effects… could some of these paintings – even this “hard/ real/ true” art – be composed merely of cliché devices? I do not deny the talent of artists such as da Vinci, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Ingres, David, etc, etc... I just don't see a problem with the path that art has taken. Each generation of artists grows tired with what the previous generation has created and endeavors to break with the old, attempting to produce something revolutionary. Artists must do this in order to be remembered, actually. In art history books we read about this certain artist because “his messy brushwork stood in contrast to the smoothness seen everywhere else” or about that certain artist because “he was the first artist to reach total abstraction”. Usually the reason a specific artist is remembered at all is simply because he did something different than what everyone else was doing. Van Gogh's pieces aren't really unique now when we look at them, but at the time he broke all the rules and ushered the way into Expressionism. That's why we remember him. I think this is why many of the truly revolutionary artists are scorned in their own time - too new - but then accepted later as other artists emulate their work and the movement becomes “normal”. So one generation revolts against the former... the generation after revolts against that generation.... the pendulum of taste swings back and forth. Realism is popular, people grow tired of that... abstraction reigns. That becomes hackneyed and so the next generation incorporates more realism. This, of course, is a greatly simplified view of Art. Too much so? I don’t know.
Maybe the pull that some people feel toward "hard" art comes from a revolt against the Postmodern art that was formerly so innovative – “idea over form / anything goes” – but now is incredibly worn-out. The desire for "hard" art is simply the longing for something fresh. Art has been about "idea taking precedence over craft" for so long that maybe it's time for craft and beauty to take the forefront.
This idea of each generation’s work being a response against the last generation’s work can also be seen in music history -
1. Classical music (Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven) focused upon "form"
2. then Romantic era (Chopin, Bizet, Tchaikovsky, Saint-Saens, etc.) broke away from this and was more inventive with harmonies, disregarding Classical forms and placing precedence on dramatic sounds
3. 20th century – atonal music - scorned sappy Romantic melodies in favor of rigid mathematical forms
4. late 20th century and 21st century composers are returning to more understandable, tonally “traditional” sounds.
And in each generation, there were a couple of composers who took the first step and set the change in motion. Those are the composers we remember. For example, Beethoven was the bridge from Classical to Romantic / Berg and Schoenberg first explored atonality, though Debussy is remembered for his tonally-ambiguous chords..on the way to atonalism, etc. Other composers in their generations may have produced great music, but it was music that followed rather than created new. We don't revere those composers as much usually.

Hm… I'm not sure what more to say. I feel like I might be simplifying Art and Music history too much. I like to think that the changes in creativity fit into this “one generation pitted against the next” formula… but I might be completely off base on this. Any thoughts?

4.08.2009

The Power of Art

This evening I heard a British accent which reminded me of the Art Historian Simon Schama who, in turn, made me think of the BBC series The Power of Art; Schama narrates. When the series came out a few summers ago, I watched whatever episodes I could catch on PBS. I never saw the entire series, however, so this evening I searched for it on YouTube... successfully. I meant to watch only a few episodes, but was enthralled and watched all of Rothko and a few of Van Gogh. Some statements made me think...

"A picture lives by companionship, expanding and quickening in the eyes of the sensitive observer. It dies by the same token. It is therefore a risky and unfeeling act, to send it out into the world." - Rothko

"Rothko wondered – could art change the world? Could art cut through the white noise of daily life... connect us with the basic emotions that make us human? Ecstasy... anguish... desire... terror." - Schama

"[These paintings were]...the unknown space that Rothko talked about... the place that only art can take us, far away from the buzzing static of the moment and toward the music of the spheres." - Schama

I love that phrase - art that can "cut through the white noise of daily life"
The Power of Art series includes Caravaggio, Bernini, Rembrandt, David, Turner, Van Gogh, Picasso, and Rothko. Here's the 1st installment on Rothko if you're interested. I enthusiastically recommend it.

sixty.eight




Pen and watercolor... method reminiscent of Surrealistic "automatic drawing" in which the hand is allowed to move a pen randomly across paper, allowing for the subconscious to emerge in shapes and lines. I obviously drew with some intention (recognizable eyes), yet a large part of the drawing happened in a more free form fashion while I was watching The Power of Art (Schama).

sixty.seven


Back to the Starbucks cups.
As I contemplated the boring white cups that sat drearily on my desk, I couldn't help but paint a couple of them. This one reminds me of Tiffany glass a little - I think mainly because of the black lines in relation to the color and because of the organic shapes.

4.06.2009

sixty.six


memories of E. mingle with the rain, in dark suffocating torrents. bitter jealousy displacement petty envy. she is available. i am closed. i hesitate, glance back, and it is too late. i stare at their backs and hide in cowardice.
build another barricade. slowly, this time. each brick an insecurity, messy mortar wet with tears. i will defy the rain with a flimsy wall. this time it will hold. i sequester my heart and smile. stoic. strong. girl with the brick heart, arid and desolate. i drown in the drought. stoic. strong. solitude.
mechanical movements, guarded and sure. self-confident and secure, yet crumbling. 2:36 will be my final disaster 2:36 i succumb to the rain and suffocate.


random musings about tonight, the rain, a memory. i incorporated staples into the painting again, as well as small metal lighting bolts that i found on the ground somewhere, i believe. adds a bit of kitsch, don't you think? not entirely happy with the final product... i may just leave it though. since it was entirely an emotion-based painting, tweaking might extinguish the spontaneous outpouring.

sixty.five


This is an interesting final product - I had no idea it would look this way when I began. My sketch of the fish was more normal and boring at first. When I added the fins, however, the fish just looked incredibly dejected or vexed, so I decided to push those emotions further. This resulted in the addition of the vampire teeth, the dark colors, the splattered scales... a little creepy.
I enjoy letting my work talk back to me like that. This conversation with my pieces is something I need to allow more often, rather than forging ahead with my own plans regardless of what the paint is saying to me.

sixty.four


Appropriation: borrowing elements of another artist's work to create something new.

This piece is inspired by (and stolen from) Botticelli's Birth of Venus. I like the idea of taking traditional, well-known art and changing it into a fresh, unexpected piece. Duchamp's L.H.O.O.Q comes to mind, of course. Find more examples at Tate.org. There is some debate as to whether appropriation is wrong or not; Wiki has interesting discussion regarding this. I think all art contains elements of appropriation, however subtle, since artists are influenced by everything around them. I'm still formulating my specific thoughts on the matter, though.
As far as this piece is concerned... I think it's a start, but I'd like to work on organizing it; the work is too messy. I approached the piece haphazardly, so that likely contributed to the lack of cohesion.

4.01.2009

sixty.three

Happy Birthday Rachmaninoff. (4.1.1873)


I wasn't willing to tear up any of my Rachmaninoff scores, so the music is extra Schumann... hope that's not too much of a sacrilege. Is the addition of sheet music successful or cheesy? I'm unsure.