Showing posts with label artist interview. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artist interview. Show all posts

December 4, 2017

art podcasts and approachability

I haven't posted anything in a while although I've been writing a lot. Sufficient to say, I'm still here... happily trudging along. Eventually I'll probably post some of these so feel free to act surprised..

Topics I've been writing about run the gamut:
no longer a vegan
cut my hair
deadlines, real and imagined
upcoming exhibits
thanksgiving dinner
new kitchen counters
messy painters
art fairs
podcasts
social media
Corinne Bailey Rae
having the flu in October and a cold in November/December...

I have been painting a lot, trying to get to a place I haven't been. Is running while standing still an expression? that's how I often feel. Oh, Google tells me it's running to stand still and they reference the current state of affairs, no pun intended. that seems about right.

Anyway, I have been painting a lot but I've also been paying attention a lot, which isn't necessarily always the case. I'm making sure to allot the same amount of time for sitting and looking as for standing and painting. this is helpful because I think painter's psyche works this way (or maybe it's all artists I don't know). We have the capacity to work instinctually, allowing the spiritual, the unknown, the subconscious to take the lead, but we're also quite cerebral and need to think a lot and sort it all out. We are in it and out of it which is a good explanation for painting being so much about the push and pull of it all and the tension between the two.

I've been talking about my work a lot lately too, which is very helpful. Abstraction is not a discernible concrete thing to be easily discussed. A lot of people don't know how to talk about it which makes it hard to know how these things are coming across. I am now making strides to add some context to my work. I've had this purist notion that the painting itself should be doing all the talking, but without accessibility there is a clear disconnect. You can't identify with something that is so unfamiliar you don't know what it is. I want to create a clearer entrance for the viewer. Pure abstract formalism has never been my goal. Abstraction has given me a broader range of meaning, but I need my paintings to say more than what they've been saying. I'm not quite sure how that will all work. It's complicated because I'm not really commenting on anything, yet I'm not interested in decoration either. I want to evoke a feeling in the viewer, a memory, a moment, and I want them to take it personally somehow. Is that valid? I realize I have to create it from a personal place to begin with, and, well, that's exactly where I am going to start..

Of several new obsessions, listening to podcasts while I work is by far the most useful. I've listened to a number of artists talk about the same exact things I've just mentioned, specifically about painting and context, and that validation is a real comfort in what is usually a pretty uncomfortable space. The studio that is, the place of refuge and struggle at the same time, comfort and conflict!

More posts on the way... For now check out my favorite podcasts: Magic Praxis, The Conversation

Further listening and reading: Should Artists Talk About Their Work



October 26, 2016

Ida Applebroog: Artist of the Week


Ida Applebroog artistMarginalia (Crawling Man), 1996, oil on canvas, 32 x 72 inches

Ida Applebroog: One of my favorite artists from what seems like a lifetime ago, when I was all about psychological performative painting. A fascinating artist who got a later start in the artworld, but has managed to successfully sustain it even up until now at age 86, Ida Applebroog is a huge inspiration. This was one of the most difficult artists of the week to post because she has so much work, I couldn't decide which were my favorites!


Ida Applebroog artist
  Modern Olympia (after Manet), 1997-2001, Oil on gampi on canvas, 4 panels, 73 x 148 inches

Ida Applebroog artist   Marginalia (goggles/black face), 1996, Oil on canvas, diptych: 16 x 14 inches and 14 x 18 inches


Ida Applebroog artist

         Marginalia (hand on forehead/squatting), 1996, oil on canvas, each 16 x 16 inches


Ida Applebroog artist

I'm rubber, you're glue, 1993, oil on canvas, 99 x 65 inches

Ida Applebroog artist
Winnie's Pooh, 1993, oil on canvas, 86 x 84 inches


Ida Applebroog artist
K-Mart village I, 1989, oil on canvas, 5 panels, 48 x 32 inches


Ida Applebroog artist
         Emetic Fields, 1989, oil on canvas, 108 x 202 inches


Ida Applebroog artist
Sure I'm sure, 1979, ink and rhoplex on vellum, six panels, 12 x 9 ½ inches each


Ida Applebroog artist
Sure I'm sure and the following two images are part of the provocative series of 10 offset books published and distributed by Applebroog from 1977-1981. She called them "performances" and titled them Dyspepsia Works
"Applebroog produced editions of 400 copies cheaply, and mailed them off to friends or acquaintances, or to artists whose work she admired. Eleanor Antin's postcards, graffiti by Jean-Michel Basquiat or Keith Haring, or Jenny Holzer's sheets of "truisms," pasted on bus stops, alongside notices of yoga lessons, kittens, or second-hand furniture for sale, are other examples of not-for-profit artworks, ingeniously and anonymously distributed, through which, without that having been precisely their intention, the artists all became famous."*
*from Art And Moral Dyspepsia by Arthur C. Danto found in Ida Applebroog: Nothing Personal, Paintings 1987-1997

Ida Applebroog artist

Ida Applebroog artist
  Thank You Very Much, 1982 (detail) ink and rhoplex on vellum, 7 panels, 10 ½ x 9 ½ inches each

Ida Applebroog artist
Tobias, 2005, unique digital photograph with mixed media on gampi paper

Ida Applebroog artist
Good Women (Bettie), digital outtake, 2005
Unique digital photograph with mixed media on gampi paper, 35 x 47 inches

Ida Applebroog artist
Monalisa, 2009, mixed media on canvas, 3 panels, 104 x 77 inches


Here's the article and image that inspired this post. Thanks Hyperallergic!
http://hyperallergic.com/329998/drawing-became-ida-applebroogs-means-communicate-outside-world/
Ida Applebroog artist
Mercy Hospital, 1969/70, drawing on paper


The exhibit Ida Applebroog: Mercy Hospital continues at the Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA) Miami through October 30. Call Her Applebroog, a documentary on the artist by her daughter Beth B, will screen at O Cinema on October 29.



Ida Applebroog, Installation view of Past Events, 1982

Creative Time's Projects at the Chamber, Manhattan 1982, was inspired by the dramatic environment of the Chamber of Commerce’s Great Hall, which is decorated with portraits of the great financiers from American history, all of them white. In Applebroog's installation, the artist made the walls “speak,” telling an unpleasant story of patriarchy. She placed a small bronze sculpture of a woman in the midst of the portraits and inserted a speech bubble into her lips that warned: “Gentlemen, America is in Trouble,” to which the portraits replied: “Isn’t Capitalism Working?” or “It’s a Jewish Plot.” The show proved controversial: it was removed twice in one month and eventually moved to a gallery. The artist’s response: “What did they think a woman was going to do in that space?”


Further looking and reading:
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/19/arts/design/shes-her-own-artist-and-a-daughters-muse.html?_r=0http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/19/arts/design/shes-her-own-artist-and-a-daughters-muse.html?_r=0

http://idaapplebroog.com/

http://bombmagazine.org/article/2235/ida-applebroog








October 17, 2016

Philip Guston, Who The Hell Wants Paint On A Surface?

Philip Guston painting
Philip Guston, Alchemist, 1960, oil on canvas, 61 x 67 inches

Philip Guston in an interview with Joseph Ablow 1966

"For reasons which I did not understand at the time... when I went into nonobjective painting or at least non-figurative painting, I felt I was even then involved with imagery, even though I didn't understand the imagery, but I thought it was imagery.

For some reason that is not quite clear to me yet, and maybe I don't want to be clear about it either, I was forced and pushed into the kind of painting that I did. That is to say that the demand, in the dialogue of myself with this, was that I make some marks.
It speaks to me, I speak to it. We have terrible arguments going all night for weeks and weeks.
"Do I really believe that?" I make a mark, a few strokes, and I argue with myself. Not "Do I like it or not?" but "Is it true or not?" And "Is that what I mean? Is that what I want?"

But there comes a point when something catches on the canvas, something grips on the canvas. I don't know what it is. I mean, when you put paint on a surface, most of the time it looks like paint.
Who the hell wants paint on a surface? 
You take it off, put it on, it goes over here, it moves over a foot. As you go closer, it starts moving in inches not feet, then half-inches. There comes a point, though, when the paint doesn't feel like paint. I don't know why. Some mysterious thing happens. I think you experience this, maybe in parts of canvases or something like that. If you can do it by painting a face or an eye or a nose or an apple, it doesn't matter. What counts is that the paint should really disappear. Otherwise it's craft or something like that."
Philip Guston painting
Philip Guston, Portrait I, 1965, oil on canvas, 68 x 78 inches







January 23, 2016

artist of the week: Amy Sillman

Amy Sillman

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, C, 2007, oil on canvas, 45 x 39 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Fast painting #1, 2013-15, oil on canvas, 75 x 66 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Mother, 2013-14,  oil on canvas, 92 × 84 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Untitled, 2012, oil on canvas, 52 x 49 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Untitled, 2013, oil on canvas, 49 x 51 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Untitled, 2013, oil on canvas, 75 x 66 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Untitled (window), 2009, oil on canvas, 51 x 43 inches


Another abstract artist to add to my list which so far has included: Paul Behnke, Eric Sall, Cordy Ryman, and Jason Karolak. If this were a group show I'd also have to include Mary Heilmann, Jack Whitten and Thomas Nozkowski to round off a bit of the old and the new.

Mary Heilmann
Mary Heilmann, 311 Castro Street, 2001, oil on canvas, 54 x 36 inches
Mary Heilmann
Mary Heilmann, Neo Noir, 1998, oil on canvas, 75 x 60 inches
Mary Heilmann
Mary Heilmann, Psychedelic Serape #4, 1982, watercolor on paper, 30 x 22 inches
Mary Heilmann
Mary Heilmann, Surfing on acid, 2005, oil on canvas, 60 x 48 inches
Thomas Nozkowski
Thomas Nozkowski, Untitled (9-9), 2012, oil on linen on panel, 22 x 28 inches

Thomas Nozkowski
Thomas Nozkowski, Untitled (8-128), 2010, oil on linen on panel, 22 x 28 inches
Thomas Nozkowski
Thomas Nozkowski, Untitled (9-2), 2011, oil on linen on panel, 22 x 28 inches
Thomas Nozkowski
Thomas Nozkowski, Untitled (9-10), 2012, oil on linen on panel, 22 x 28 inches

Stanley Whitney
Stanley Whitney, Aura of the Sand Fall, 2014, oil on linen, 48 x 48 inches
Stanley Whitney
Stanley Whitney, Dance the Orange, 2013, oil on linen, 48 x 48 inches


These are all paintings that I absolutely love but could never make myself, and I absolutely love them because I could never make them. I don't do geometry. But what I love and find affinity with is the hand drawn human element, the imperfect geometry. Not to mention the wonderful surface tension, color and line (of course). It's a juicy, vibrant combination, as Mary Heilmann puts it, of "Albers and deKooning in the same painting." Of all these artists Amy Sillman clearly references the body more than the others, but that's also why I love her work so much. Her blatant gesture combines figuration and abstraction in all the right ways. In certain pieces I can't help finding an affinity with (my first artist crush) painter Susan Rothenberg. 

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Nut, 2011, oil on canvas, 91 x 84 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Junker, 2009, oil on canvas, 84 x 90 inches

Amy Sillman
Amy Sillman, Ich Auch, 2009, oil on canvas, 90.55 x 84.65 inches

Here is a great interview in BOMB magazine between Amy Sillman and R.H Quaytman where she talks more about the human element in her work.

Further looking and reading:
Sikkema, Jenkins & Co.
Art in America

Susan Rothenberg
Susan Rothenberg, 4 Kinds, 1991, oil on canvas, 52 x 88 inches

So maybe this would be the show...

Cordy Ryman
Thomas Nozkowski

Cordy RymanEric Sall
Thomas Nozkowski
Jason Karolak


Jason Karolak
Paul Behnke
Eric Sall

Paul Behnke
Amy SillmanJason Karolak
Amy SillmanMary Heilmann
Mary HeilmannStanley Whitney