The Strycker

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2010-03-16T14:54:00.001-04:00

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Marina at MoMA

2010-03-16T14:07:00.000-04:00

This past week I saw the Marina Abramović show at MoMA.Thrice. (Once on Tuesday, for the opening, again on Friday, because I had the day off, and again with friends on Sunday.) Originally from Yugoslavia, and now based in New York, Abramović is one of the pioneers of performance art, and she continues to perform, long outlasting her peers of ordealism-- Vito Acconci, Chris Burden, Bruce Nauman-- who have ceased performing and moved onto other media. She uses the body and her body to explore ritual, endurance, state of consciousness, and the relationship between artist and audience.

The show begins on the second floor with the title piece, "The Artist is Present," a performance in which Abramović sits in silence at a table in the middle of a large, taped off square. Viewers may participate by entering the square, one at a time, and sitting silently across from her for whatever duration they choose. Abramović remains there every day that the museum is open, (six days a week), from the time the museum is open until the last visitor leaves, an exercise in meditation, in endurance, in control and perception of the passage of time.

Curatorially, I found the second part of the show, on the museum's sixth floor, somewhat problematic. The galleries include archives of Abramović's past performances in chronological order. Photographs, videos and objects-- remnants of performances-- are included in addition to reenactments of five pieces by other performers. In 2005, Abramović performed "Seven Easy Pieces" at the Guggenheim-- reperformances of five significant works by others, and two of her own. The work addressed the inherent ephemeral quality of performance, and the difficulty that exists when attempting to archive it, but breaks with the "purist" view that the immediate nature of performance means that it should not be documented at all; instead she treats performance as one would treat a musical score. Abramović's decision to have her own works reenacted is consistent with her message from this past work, and I am personally interested in the idea of archiving ephemera. However, I found it distracting to have these reperformances side by side with the videos and photographs of the original performances. It took away much of the power that comes with a live performance; often the performance is only thing in the room—the audience comes specifically to view it. But this was not the case here. Thus, the energy that is so much of what Abramović's works are both about and rely on, was missing. I don't object to the reperformances themselves, but I think that they would have been more powerful if they were separated from the relics of the original performances-- in their own rooms, or even together in one room.

Additionally, I wondered why they chose to reenact "Nude with Skeleton" at all. In Abramović's original performance, she lies nude, a skeleton draped across her body, rising and falling with her breath. A video at MoMA (the quality jarringly different, clearer, than the other video shown, perhaps because it's on LCD screens rather than projected) shows her cleaning the original skeleton. But the skeleton used for the reperformance appears to be plastic, and upon inspection of the wall text, it's revealed to be a "replica." Why not go further? Why not replace the nude performer with a mannequin? The difference between performance art and theater is that in performance art, the blood is real. The reenactment of "Nude with Skeleton" was theater.

That said, go see "The Artist is Present." Sit across from the artist and focus on your breathing, your consciousness, and on hers. Exchange energy. Look at archives from previous works. Watch the video of "Rest Energy," in which Abramović grips a bow with the arrow pointing toward her, and ULAY, her partner and collaborator, holds the arrow to the bowstring with his fingers, and then they both lean back until the bowstring is taut and the arrow points at her heart, the sound of their breathing, further intensifying the experience. Look at the collection of seventy-two objects that Marina allowed audience members to use on her in "Rhythm 0," which include wine, scissors, a whip, a single bullet, and a gun. Watch the "The Lovers: The Great Wall Walk" in which Abramovic and ULAY, collaborators, friends, and lovers from 1976-1988, each walk the entirety of the wall, starting at opposite ends of the wall, meeting in the middle and having an emotionally intense goodbye, after which they never saw each other again, until ULAY, now Frank Uwe Laysiepen, sat silently across from Abramović on the opening night of "The Artist is Present." Wow.

SFMOMA expansion

2010-02-23T12:40:00.000-05:00

On Monday, San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom announced the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art's planned expansion, which includes taking over the Howard Street fire station, and spending $14 million to relocate it to a new building.

The additional space will house the contemporary and modern art collection of the Fisher family, founders of the Gap. Last September, SFMOMA announced that long time San Francisco residents Doris and Donald Fisher planned to house their 1100 piece collection at SFMOMA.

Brandeis faculty cuts

2010-02-23T11:40:00.000-05:00

The Boston Globe just reported that Brandeis plans to cut 2 dozen faculty positions and eliminate a number of academic offerings, including grad programs in anthropology and theater. This, of course, is after Brandeis' controversial decision to close their Rose Art Museum. Read more about it here.

Update: The Rose

2009-09-28T11:11:00.000-04:00

Brandeis University's art museum, The Rose, is making headlines again. In January, the university's president, Jehuda Reinharz, announced that the museum would close its doors to the public, and additionally, Brandeis would sell the museum's entire 7500 piece collection in order to raise funds for the school.

A group of professors immediately called for Reinharz's resignation, and many in the art community questioned the legality of the university's actions. In February, Reinharz recanted some of his earlier statements: he told The Boston Globe that the Rose would not be closing, but instead would transition from a public art museum to an educational arts center. Additionally, he clarified that

the university intended to sell just a small portion of the collection 'if and when it is necessary.'

Still, such clarifications did little to assuage the fears of the international art community. In July, citing museum ethical codes, which require proceeds from any sale of artwork be used only to purchase new acquisitions, three members of The Rose Art Museum's board of overseers filed a lawsuit in order to stop the sale of any work.

Then, last week, a Brandeis University committee recommended that the museum remain open to the public, although it failed to take a position on the arguably more important issue of the sale of its collection, valued at $350 million.

Days later, Reinharz announced his resignation to The Justice, Brandeis' student newspaper. However, he claims that he is ending his long tenure as university president because he's met his goals, and the resignation was not influenced by the outcry he created by announcing the Rose's closure.

We drive the bus, Roberta. Don't forget it.

2009-09-22T11:23:00.015-04:00

In her September 9th column lauding The Bruce High Quality Foundation University, a free, unaccredited art school created by the artist collective The Bruces in the vain of Summerhill and The Art Students League, Roberta Smith criticizes academia's role in the art world as one that capitalizes on "the illusion that being an artist is a financially viable calling." She also criticizes the new Ph.D. programs in studio art as "cynical commercial opportunism." So, is it financially feasible to be an artist? And if not, is the Masters of Fine Arts, presently accepted as the standard terminal degree in artmaking, a useful degree? Would a Ph.D. program benefit artists?

Is "artist" a viable occupation? Smith should hope so; without artists, where would art critics be? As I read Smith's piece, I was reminded of Gregory Amenoff's words in Letters to a Young Artist:

Remember that ARTISTS DRIVE THE BUS... The entire enterprise is built on one central event: the creative act in the studio.

Artists generate jobs for art critics, art historians, curators, gallerists, art consultants, arts administrators, and art educators, among others. Thus, it's odd, even arrogant, for Smith to argue about the feasibility, or lack thereof, of artmaking as a profession. In fact, there are markets for art; it is possible to be an artist, although it's true that it might not be the most profitable or easiest route for one to take. But these days, what is? Law school, once thought to be a reliable path to a six figure salary, particularly if one went to a top-tier school, is now leaving students six figures in debt with no job prospects. And, those who are lucky enough to score jobs at a Vault 100 firm are stuck working 50-60 hours a week, doing mindless doc review. I may not be able to subsist entirely on my artistic practice, but at least my day job involves creating curriculum, working with leaders in my field on a regular basis, designing material for print and web publication, teaching and writing this blog post in my down time.

And, I am certain that MFA made me a more desirable candidate for my job. A good MFA program prepares its students not just by refining their craft, but also by asking them to relate abstract ideas and visual forms, to utilize available resources, to work under pressure, to work both independently and collaboratively with others, to criticize and evaluate ideas and works, and to effectively communicate, skills that are valuable in myriad settings. Of course, the goal of every artist is to be able to exist entirely off one's own art, to be a full-time artist, but it doesn't mean that one has failed if he must instead use the critical thinking and creative skills that he honed in art school to do something else.

Smith is rightly critical of the present model for advanced study in art practice that leaves too many young artists in debt, and struggling to find time to both survive and make art. However, this is not just "the big business of art schools." This is the higher education system in America, whose costs are rising at a much greater rate than our incomes are. What's more, she is too dismissive of the possibility of a more, rather than less, rigorous educational model for artists as the solution to this problem. Indeed, I don't know that a Ph.D. program is really necessary for artists, however, it's illogical to call the prospect of such a thing "cynical commercial opportunism" on the part of a university that chooses to offer one. In fact, most Ph.D. candidates are funded-- that is, they are actually paid (albeit not much) to study their discipline and often also teach undergraduate courses. Assuming this model would hold true for a Ph.D. in fine arts (and it seems to for the University of California San Diego's new program, one of the only such programs in the United States) this would actually be a good thing for artists. They would have the opportunity to be supported for five years as they made art, and would emerge free with all the connections that a graduate arts education affords, and a degree that would allow them to teach at the college level. Finally, five years of study is a much larger time commitment than the two, or sometimes three years required by MFA programs. Perhaps the greater time commitment will serve to weed out less serious candidates.

Last July, in a performance titled, "Explaining Pictures to a Dead Bull," the Bruces asked, “How can we imagine a sustainable alternative to professionalized art education?” Maybe the way to combat "the conflation of market, art, and academy" is not to abandon entirely any academic qualification for an artist, as the Bruces propose. Perhaps instead, it is to increase academic qualification, to let academia for once truly embrace the arts, to equate artmaking with original research. And maybe then, Roberta Smith will remember who drives the bus.

Higher Ed: Why do we still view creative pursuits in opposition to higher earning?

2009-09-21T15:20:00.007-04:00

What is the purpose of higher education? Why should one attend college or graduate school? In the months before school resumed for many students, I found myself pondering just that, as I read articles about frivolous masters degrees, listened to an NPR discussion titled, Is college education worth the debt? and sorted through the comments that followed. Do we seek education for knowledge or to become higher earners?

Remember how, four years ago, in his book, A Whole New Mind, Daniel H. Pink declared that the MFA is the new MBA, to the delight artists and arts educators everywhere. He argued that, as technology automates many jobs, rendering them obsolete, and many of the remaining jobs in technology move to Asia, creativity is what will drive the success of the American economy. "Whole minded aptitudes, " or an integration of both logic and creativity will be rewarded. Those of us pursuing graduate degrees in creative disciplines, so often questioned as to why we were pursuing a "useless" degree felt vindicated: our time had come!

It seems that moment has passed. Indeed, as students returned to school earlier this month, many came back to universities with shrunken arts curriculum. To be fair, many schools were forced to make cuts across the board; it wasn't only arts programs that were affected. But, many argue that arts programs were disproportionately affected. This is in part, because of the structure of many programs. It's often not possible, due to space and materials, to expand a studio course from 16 to 24 people, so, if a section of a course is cut, many students who would like to take it are simply unable to. A lecture, unlike a studio, could more easily take on more students. And, although smaller seminars are ideal, a seminar with 24 people as opposed to 16 is certainly not impossible in the way that a studio course is.

What's more, arts programs rely more heavily on part time or adjunct professors than other programs do. Many schools, including UCLA explain that this is so that they can attract artists who are "in the thick of their careers." This may be true, but it also means that most art professors are not protected by contracts or tenure. It also means that schools can simply not renew a professor's contract, and it isn't reported as having laid someone off. In short, it's an easy way for schools to cut costs without having to appear as though they're cutting costs. The heavy reliance on adjunct professors by arts programs is a separate and complicated issue that I have mentioned in previous posts, and plan to devote a post exclusively to, but, for now I will just say that I wonder why more universities refuse to equate artmaking with original research. That is, why wouldn't the university support an artist with a studio and time to make work in the way that it grants, for example, a physicist a lab, and time to conduct experiments. If creative disciplines were valued equally to other disciplines, then the university would support an artist "in the thick of" his career, or even, support an artist so that he can reach a summit in his career, rather than let others sustain him, and then give him a couple thousand dollars to teach a class each semester.

Higher education is, indeed, an investment, but i's problematic that we measure the value of this investment in money, rather than knowledge. Knowledge is deemed valuable based on its connection to earning potential.

Thus, what one learns as a major in Sports Management, which remained at Washington State University as Theater Arts and Dance were cut, is judged more valuable than the creative knowledge-- including choreography and directing, that comes from performing arts curricula. In fact, the lack of support for creative curricula and programming in the universities is simply a reflection of the nation's values: America does not value making. Our economy is not a production based economy, but instead based on an abstract system of exchange and investment. We don't make things; we just make money, and that is, in part, what led to our economic collapse. Indeed, Pink was right when he advocated the rise of creative thinking; he just was wrong to think that it would be embraced. The irony is, had we recognized the value-- creative, informative, AND financial-- in artistic pursuits, perhaps we would not find ourselves in our present economic state.

My Michael Jackson Post

2009-07-01T13:10:00.007-04:00

Because the world has been abuzz about Michael Jackson since his passing on Thursday-- This American Life titled its acts after Michael Jackson hits; Jamie Foxx was moonwalking at the BET awards, every bar I've been in has played a string of MJ hits, and because my boss at SVA is Bob Giraldi, who directed the music video, Beat It as well as the New Generation Pepsi spots with Michael, I feel compelled to blog something about the man in the mirror. What's more, Michael was nothing if not controversial, and I love to blog about controversy in the arts.

No one, save the now grown children involved, can ever truly know if anything sinister happened with Michael, who was accused and ultimately acquitted of child molestation charges. However, he was extensively investigated for over a decade, and although some odd things were discovered, no definitive evidence of foul play was ever unearthed. What's more, people like to fear what's different. Thus, it's my belief that Michael was accused of pedophilia for much of the same reason that homosexuals are often accused of it.

On Monday, Bob twittered, "Time 2 put MJ to rest-forget the rumors, move on 2 remembrance. USA lost 1 of its greatest artists, like Britain's Lennon, Spain's Picasso." Indeed, Michael should be remembered for groundbreaking music, for his thirteen #1 singles and thirteen Grammy Awards, for "I'll be there," and "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough," for Thriller, the top selling original album of all time, and for "We are the World", which raised $50 million for hunger-relief in Africa. But more than that, he was in many ways an artist who should be placed in both the canon of pop musicians and that of performance artists like Marina Abramović, Bruce Nauman, and Vito Acconci, artists who's bodies are their medium. Indeed, most obviously, Michael's voice was his art. So too was dance, how he made his body move. He perfected and popularized the moonwalk; his dance was integral to the evolution of music video production style.

But, in addition to these things that made him an American icon, the multiple plastic surgeries that were the cause of debate in the African American community, contributed to his reputation as an eccentric, and were the subject of many jokes, were also a part of his art. And yes, they may have been art fueled by such things as vitiligo, a troubled youth, depression, even a body dysmorphic disorder, but much great art comes from personal struggle. Throughout his songs and videos is the theme of transformation-- transformation from person to werewolf ("Thriller"), or from person to spaceship ("Moonwalker"), transformation of the world with music and dance ("Beat it;" "We are the World"), thinking beyond racial stereotypes (Dangerous). His surgeries were not, as some believe, an attempt to transform himself into a "white" person. Instead, with each surgery he further metamorphosized into a person who was neither black nor white, masculine nor feminine, but someone who transcended these classifications: he worked to be aracial and agender. And, though this is not my own ideal, I have to respect someone who so fully embodied his art.

The role of the NEA: Is there a place for controverial art in the government's budget?

2009-06-11T11:20:00.019-04:00

A piece about arts funding by David Smith, author of Money for Art: The Tangled Web of Art and Politics in American Democracy, was run in the Wall Street Journal today. The column discusses President Obama’s selections of Jim Leach and Rocco Landesman to head the National Endowment for Humanities (NEH) and the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), respectively. Many in the arts community are disappointed with these choices, as they seem to signal that there will be no change from the somewhat conservative status quo. But Smith embraces these choices; indeed, he argues:

Privately funded art need not steer clear of controversy, but publicly funded art should. In addition to hurting the endowments' standing in Congress, controversy undermines in the public eye the idea that the arts and humanities are important to civic life and are worthy of public funds.

What’s more, he distinguishes between grants made to individual artists, and grants made to programs:

On the surface there's certainly nothing wrong with either cultural agency disbursing grants to individuals. But the debate over such grants highlights the question of who should be the real beneficiary of the endowments: artists and scholars or the public? In truth, the NEA functions just fine without making individual grants. In fact, absent this practice it's easier to see the agency as its creators back in 1965 intended: one whose primary beneficiary is to be the American people as a whole.

The foundation for each of these positions is the belief that the American public as a whole does not benefit from controversial art. But is this assertion true?

In fact, some of the most valuable artistic contributions that have been made have also been controversial, in style, subject matter, or both. These include Goya's Naked Maya and Los Caprichos, Turner's The Slave Ship, the works of the Impressionists, Picasso's Guernica, and Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans.

In literature, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, The Color Purple by Alice Walker, and Ulysses by James Joyce have all sparked debate and been banned or censored from various institutions.

In fact, one appeal of a lot of good art is its ability to provoke controversy, because this often indicates that it is also provoking thought. Certainly there is work that shocks gratuitously, but the fact that an artist presents something shocking or controversial does not make it gratuitous. Nor does it make it self-serving. I can think of no better way to benefit American society than to encourage and stimulate thought.

Smith trumpets such NEA sponsored programs as Shakespeare in American Communities and Poetry Out Loud because these programs foster a sense of appreciation for the arts, which he believes is in keeping with the spirit of the original NEA mission. But, the NEA's stated mission is:

to foster the excellence, diversity, and vitality of the arts in the United States, and help broaden the availability and appreciation of such excellence, diversity, and vitality.

If we are to foster excellence, diversity, and vitality of the arts, then we are to encourage not just appreciation, but also actual making. And, to be fair, the NEA does do that, in the form of grants to organizations that then redistribute the grants to individual artists. The Vermont Studio Center, The Women's Studio Workshop, Aljira Inc, Art in General, and Public Art Fund Inc are examples of organizations that have received NEA grants for "Access to Artistic Excellence," in other words, money that they will pass along to individual artists, often to do a specific project.

I don't know that returning to a system in which artists apply directly to the NEA for money would be the best way to pomote and advance new work. However, I would be interested in exploring whether eliminating some of the middle-men could be a cost-saving measure that doesn't undermine the integrity of arts funding.

Furthermore, Smith ignores the fact that grants for art appreciation could also spark contoversy. In fact, the poets whose work is included in the Poetry Out Loud program include Jimmy Santiago Baca, who spent 6 years in prison for drug possession and intent to sell, Allen Ginsberg, whose work Howl, was the catalyst for an obscenity trial against San Francisco book dealers, and Gertrude Stein, the lesbian author of one of the earliest coming-out stories, Q.E.D, and whose other works, like Tender Buttons, often commented on lesbian sexuality.

Indeed, many of the museums and arts institutions received NEA grants specifically for exhibitions that might be deemed controversial. The Williams College Museum of Art funded the exhibition of controversial African American artist Kara Walker with a $40,000 grant from the NEA. The recent Jenny Holzer exhibition at the Whitney, Protect Protect, which is highly critical of the Iraq war, was made possible with a grant from the NEA.

And that's a good thing. The government should not deny funding to artists or organizations that promote artists simply because the artwork is critical of a societal institution. To do so is indirect censorship. That is, it encourages those in the arts community to abstain from riskier, controversial endeavors in favor of safer, less critical projects that will more readily receive funding. And if we do that, then what we are not "fostering a vitality of the arts in the United States," but rather a degeneration of American culture.

Art and Privilege

2009-06-09T09:42:00.003-04:00

This past weekend, while checking out my friend Joe Borelli’s work as part of the Bushwick Open Studios event, we got in a conversation about art and privilege: Simply, creative pursuits require money and time. Connections help too. As such, those who come from money and an upper class background have an advantage. They can take off for three months to do a residency that allows them to make more work and more relationships in the art world without worrying about how to pay rent and loans and bills. They can take low paying or even unpaid positions because they offer an opportunity to work with a well-known artist or at a prestigious institution. Or they can work part-time, not be burdened by an inflexible 40+ hr a week schedule; they can go into their studios fresh, rather than exhausted after a long day of work for someone else. They can make projects on a scale or with materials that others simply can’t afford to realize. Those projects then get recognition and more funding for even larger projects—the whole thing is cyclical. The rich really do get richer.

But, is this an issue that is unique to artists? Indeed, hasn’t the disparity between the upper and middle and working classes been growing? Hasn’t the cost of higher education been increasing exponentially? Isn’t this just indicative of a larger societal issue?

The answer is of course, yes. But, the issue is even more exaggerated in the arts for the following reasons:

1) Art is the artist’s job. Everything else, at least in terms of employment and career, is secondary. The goal is not to advance in the job or jobs that pay the bills. Those jobs, often only tangentially related to one’s real job of being an artist, offer little help in terms of advancement in the art world, and in fact, take away time from the research, making, schmoozing, and applying that is all part of being an artist—(No, I am not so romantic as to think that being an artist is only about making artwork). So, those with the means to pursue art without having to hold down another job or jobs are able to spend more time on their job of being an artist, and will have an advantage in advancing in that job.

Also, this is different from the lawyer who has to put in her time at a corporate law firm to pay off her student loans before she can start a small practice that focuses on domestic violence issues. She still gets to be a lawyer at the big firm, and is practicing and learning law-related things there. Or, she can choose to ultimately stick with the big firm, and join the ranks of the wealthy. Sticking with art brings no financial security.

2) Related to this, artists are more likely to be freelancers. This means that they have little security in their means of income. Freelancers aren’t eligible for unemployment when their contracts end, and they’ve often been working without health insurance or other benefits. The artist who lives paycheck to paycheck can quickly spiral into severe debt when he becomes un or underemployed, which leads to anxiety and depression, neither of which is good for artmaking (despite the tortured artist myth).

3) Education. The costs of education are rising, and the idea of studying to be an artist doesn’t seem like a viable way to pay back the loans that are often necessary to pay for school. And, many of the best art schools are also among the most expensive. But, unlike, say, the best engineering schools, or law schools, or business schools, a degree from one of the best art schools is still little assurance of making major career advancement as an artist (but it is not worthless— that MFA is a requisite for many galleries now.) This was the case before the economic recession (which admittedly has made job searches more difficult for most disciplines), and now the economy’s downturn has only exaggerated the issue for artists, as galleries close or scale back on shows, or cut down on the artists they represent. So, students without means can abandon the idea of becoming an artist, downgrading art from career to hobby, and pursue something else. Or, they can saddle themselves with the loans that make it necessary for them to take jobs that distract from their real job of being an artist.

The result is that the pool of working artists becomes less economically diverse. Because it takes a certain amount of privilege, or a certain amount of delusion that one can break into such privilege, to identify as an artist. There was an article in the NY Times yesterday about the collapse of Williamsburg, a trendy Brooklyn neighborhood that has found favor with many of the city’s artists, now that so many of the hipsters’ trust funds have dried up. (Full disclosure: my apartment and studio are in the burg) I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’d like to think that it’s the start of putting artists from different financial backgrounds on more equal footing, but in reality, it may just make it even harder for those of us who never had money to make art.

The Art of Cupcakes

2009-05-13T16:10:00.020-04:00

I might have to go Rirkrit Tiravanija on everyone and start making and serving food as my art. But, instead of the Thai curries that Tiravanija made for his "Free" and "Still" shows, my medium will be cupcakes. Baking has always been a relaxing, creative activity for me, and I'm still jazzed from my victories this past Monday night at the Brooklyn Kitchen's 3rd Annual Cupcake Cookoff, a fundraiser for the Greenpoint Soup Kitchen. I had no idea that there would be so many entries-- almost sixty, many of them beautifully and meticulously decorated. I was a bit embarrassed by the open, flimsy aluminum trays I showed up with carrying my decidely not uniform sweets. But, soon I was in a drunken sugar shock after tasting so many delicious confections. Two of my favorites were the Pineapple with Spicy Cilantro Icing Cupcakes and the Mini Vanilla Cupcakes with Lemon Curd Filling.

After viewing (and tasting) the competition, I was floored when I heard Taylor Erkkinen announce my PB & J Cakes as the winner of the plain and simple flavor category. Minutes later, I was even more surprised to hear my name called again; this time my Bananas Foster Cakes had taken first prize in the exotic flavor category! I didn't think to bring a camera, but, Not Eating Out in New York has an unidentified pic of me on her blog, along with a recipe for some delicious looking Green Tea Coconut Minicakes that I'll have to try.

I had a great time; I have "Sugar High" ala Renee Zellweger in Empire Records playing in my head, big plans to learn how to decorate my mini-cakes, and am still pondering how I can incorporate all of this into my art.

Below is my recipe for PB and J Cakes:

1 c. of peanut butter

2 c. sugar
3 c. flour (I try to use cake/ pastry flour if I can find it)
3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
4 eggs
2 tablespoons of vanilla
1 cup milk (soy milk works just as well too)
berry preserves (purchased, or you can make your own as I did by
boiling raspberries, blackberries, etc with a couple of teaspoons of
sugar and a splash of water. let it cook down, and cool.)

Preheat oven to 350.
Cream peanut butter and gradually add sugar (process should take 10 minutes.
In a separate bowl, sift flour and add baking powder and salt.
Add eggs one at a time to the peanut butter. Add flour mixture alternately with milk and vanilla.
Stir until smooth.
Fill cupcake liners halfway with cake batter. Put a spoonful of preserves in each cup.
Put the second half of the batter in each liner, on top of the preserves.
Bake in the oven at 350 for about 20 minutes. Ice with Peanut Butter Frosting and serve.

Peanut Butter Frosting

4oz of cream cheese (1/2 package) (still cold)
3/4 cup of peanut butter
2 tbsp butter, softened
3 cups of confectioners sugar, sifted
Splash of vanilla or rum
Milk to thin if necessary

Beat together peanut butter, cream cheese, and butter.
Slowly add the confectioners sugar.
Add the vanilla or rum.
Add milk one tablespoon at a time (or additional rum) to thin, as necessary.
Makes about 3 cups.

Makes about 24 cupcakes or 12-15 jumbo cupcakes.

Archiving Digital Media

2009-05-12T10:37:00.019-04:00

Last month, I downloaded a trial version of the most recent Adobe After Effects, CS4, so that I could work on the titles for a short film project. A couple of days after my 30-day trial expired, a few adjustments had to be made. I have the previous version of After Effects, CS3, on my personal laptop, so I saved it on a flash drive and brought it home to make the changes. But when I tried to open the file, I was informed that it was not compatible with the program. What followed was a multiple-hour frenzy of finding another computer on which I could download another trial version (using an alternate e-mail address) so that I could open up the file, make the changes, and resave it. All for two lines! This got me thinking about the notion of backwards compatibility and of archiving digital/ new media artwork in general.

As artists, we are encouraged to use archival materials: ph neutral paper, reversible glues that won’t yellow over time, acrylics under oils. Yet, what happens when we choose to work in a medium whose materials are rapidly and perpetually changing?

One issue is how to store digital media. In 2007, DSG International and PC World announced that they would no longer stock the once ubiquitous floppy disks. Consumers now use cds, dvds, and flash drives to store and transport data. Indeed, computers today do not even have a place to insert a floppy.

For video, dvds have replaced VHS tapes, and now new technologies, like the Apple TV, may soon replace dvds. Ipods and MP3 players hold our music, which was previously held on cd's, and before that, on cassette tapes. Even under optimal storage conditions, digital media is fragile. In fact, there is much debate over the life expectancy of dvds and cds; some estimates claim they will last for up to two-hundred years, but a researcher at IBM has said that most have an anticipated life expectancy of just two to five years, far less than the hundred-year standard that makes something archival. What's more, the rapid updating of operating systems and programs renders much information that does survive obsolete.

And, presently, there's no standard for preserving or archiving artwork that is created from digital media. This includes digital photos and prints, and the obvious solution there is to preserve the physical print. But, more complicated is what happens when the work in need of preservation is not printed, not physical, but was originally created and viewed using some new technology? Such work includes projections, art-project websites, multi-media time-based works, etc. How do we best preserve or archive an artwork created using a digital media?

So, archiving digital media is not simply problematic because the technology used to create the work is constantly being rendered obsolete, but also because the materials used to hold data integral to the work are not necessarily archival. In an effort to overcome both the ephemeral nature of the media and the problem of technological obsolescence, many archivists periodically refresh digital information; that is, they copy it onto a newer media. But this necessitates two things: that the information is independent of the software and hardware used to create it, and that the software and hardware used to create the work is still viable, or at the very least, that new software is backwards compatible with the original software. Migration, in which information is transferred but it's formatting, etc are not always maintained (imagine what happens when you open a word document in text edit, for example), is even more problematic in terms of artwork, where the formatting of a work may be fundamental to the piece.

And, even if this constant resaving of digital information onto the newest technologies does work as a method of preservation, it’s incredibly time consuming and expensive. New media artists need a better way to document and preserve their works. Fortunately, there are myriad groups working on this: Jane Hunter and Sharmin Choudhury's PANIC (Preservation and Archival of Newmedia and Interactive Collections) model aspires to be capable of preserving all forms of digital media, including composite, mixed-media digital objects, and even uses mixed-media digital art as its three major case studies; Richard Rinehart's MANS (Media Art Notation System) uses a musical score as its conceptual model. Rinehart has created a standardized system for notating and reading digital media in the way that we notate and read music. It's particularly interesting because such a system gives us the ability to recreate works without actually having to recreate them in a specific code or language.

Yet, even if MANS is the optimal model to archive digital and variable media, does it actually succeed in doing what conservators and archivists of more traditional media seek to do, which is to not simply document, but to preserve the artwork? Archiving is record keeping, and different methods (Refreshing, PANIC, MANS, our own memories) may be more accurate than others at correctly documenting what a work was like. This documentation may make it possible to recreate or reperform a work, but is that recreation also the artwork?

Certainly the creator system such as MANS that uses musical notation as its model likely thinks this is so. When we go to a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony we believe that we are experiencing the artwork and not just a documentation or copy of the artwork. The Philadelphia Philharmonic’s version of Beethoven’s Fifth is just as much the art as it was when Beethoven was alive to perform it on his piano or conduct an orchestra.

Precedent for a sort of archive as artwork also exists in the visual arts canon. Marcel’s Duchamp’s first readymade, Bicycle Wheel, consisted of two common objects: a bicycle wheel mounted upside down on a kitchen stool. The Museum of Modern Art houses a Bicycle Wheel, but it is DuChamp’s third version of the piece. The first two were lost. However, the museum states:

the fact that this version of the piece is not the original seems inconsequential, at least in terms of visual experience.

Indeed, more important was the fact that the items used to create Bicycle Wheel were mass produced, anonymous. Twelve Bicycle Wheels were created, four, and then an authorized edition of eight. The later versions, produced more than forty years after the first, look more modern because they used the contemporary, mass produced wheels and stools available at that time, following the spirit of the work. In this way, once could say that a digital artwork that looks different than it had originally because it’s utilizing updated technologies is still, in fact, the artwork.

Yet, more similar to the idea of an archiving model for digital media than instructions for making a physical work is an archive of another ephemeral media: performance art. In November of 2005, performance artist Marina Abramovic presented Seven Easy Pieces at the Guggenheim, in which she reenacted, with the artists’ permission, five famous performance pieces by other artists, and two of her own. Much of the concept of Seven Easy Pieces lies in the fact that performance is such an ephemeral medium, and documentation of these performances are few. In this way, Seven Easy Pieces is able to exist simultaneously as an archive and as an artwork, one that comments on the nature of performance art, documentation and archive. However, when the audience saw Abramovic reperform Bruce Nauman's Body Pressure they were not seeing the artwork, Body Pressure. Instead they were seeing an archive of Body Pressure and a portion of an entirely new artwork, Seven Easy Pieces. It is my belief that at its best, an archive of digital media will do this as well: act as a record of a necessarily ephemeral medium and, while doing this, become an entirely new piece of art.

Parsons Resolution?

2009-04-23T12:03:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, less than twenty-four hours before a planned rally in support of the fired/ non-retained fine arts faculty at Parsons The New School of Design, Art Info reports on a new press release issued in which the school apologizes for the lack of poor communication and also promises to "make every effort to offer appropriate teaching assignments to non-annual [i.e., adjunct] faculty."

http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/31233/on-eve-of-planned-protest-parsons-provost-tries-to-stem-faculty-layoff-controversy/

More on Parsons...

2009-04-13T11:47:00.002-04:00

... an update from Artnet, in which they also mention the particular relevancy of Columbia faculty criticizing Coco Fusco, (also mentioned in my previous post).

and a blog from Parsons' fine art faculty

Speaking of New School...

2009-04-10T15:59:00.004-04:00

The NY Times City Room reports on another sit-in at The New School, resulting in the arrest of 19 student protesters who are calling for Bob Kerrey's resignation.

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/10/students-occupy-new-school-building-again/?hp

Once again, I do believe that Bob Kerrey should resign. But I don't think that we should attach an immoral value judgment to Parsons' faculty cuts and restructuring of their fine arts program.

Parsons: Not as simple as it seems

2009-04-10T12:21:00.016-04:00

Earlier this week, the New York Times and Artnet each reported on a controversial faculty cut at Parsons The New School for Design . On March 10th, between one third and one half of all fine-arts faculty at the university received letters from the office of the recently hired chair, interdisciplinary political artist Coco Fusco, severely reducing the amount of credits they were teaching, reassigning them out of the department, or terminating their employment entirely.

Most members of the faculty at Parsons are part-time adjuncts who work on a contract basis, with contracts being renewed each semester or each year. Thus, the school has not technically fired anyone; instead, they've simply opted to not re-hire certain individuals. Tim Marshall, the university's interim provost explains Parsons' position,"This is not a disciplinary action-- no one's been fired.... As you update the curriculum, you have to look at the best fit."

Members of the Parsons arts faculty submitted a petition to the New School administration stating,

We the undersigned hereby affirm our opposition to the summary firing of our valued colleagues from the Parsons Fine Arts department. These fellow teachers and artists have given their time and energy to Parsons for many, many years. They, like all adjunct faculty at Parsons, have worked many hours beyond their contractual commitments and have provided scholarship, skill and guidance to countless students. Furthermore to not rehire faculty in this economic climate is both cruel and socially irresponsible.

While we support the innovations of the school of Art, Media and Technology we cannot do so at the expense of our colleague’s livelihoods. We therefore insist upon an immediate reversal of aforementioned summary firings.

An e-mail message signed by Gregory Amenoff, the Chair of Columbia University's Visual Arts Program and five other full-time faculty members at the School of the Arts, Tomas Vu-Daniel, Blake Rayne, Kara Walker, Jon Kessler, and Thomas Roma read,

We stand united in expressing our dismay at the recent firings (and demotions) of so many talented artist/educators. The suddenness of this wholesale action coupled with the clear lack of prior dialogue makes these firings particularly grievous. But even more troubling is that these decisions were made during a period of crisis for all cultural institutions in this city and beyond.

It went on to call the move "anti-artist, anti-arts education and frankly anti-culture."

So, is the termination of the Parsons adjunct faculty contracts unethical in part or solely because of the current economic recession? Would it also be unethical during an economic boom? Should universities be held to a higher ethical standard than other organizations/companies? Does the fact that this is an art school have any bearing on the ethics of the situation? What moral obligation does a university have toward its employees? Toward its faculty specifically? Toward its students? What moral responsibility does an art school bare toward the arts community at large? Are certain artistic media more important than others? Are art schools morally obligated to preserve or promote particular media in order to preserve or promote particular faculty? Does hiring new arts faculty cancel out firing old arts faculty?

As much as I dislike New School president Bob Kerrey , this particular situation at Parsons is just not as simple as the administration being evil for firing or demoting longtime faculty. A university, or college, or school is ethically bound to proceed in the way that will most benefit its students. In fact, Parson's website states the school's mission as this:

Parsons focuses on creating engaged citizens and outstanding artists, designers, scholars and business leaders through a design-based professional and liberal education.Parsons students learn to rise to the challenges of living, working and creative decision making in a world where human experience is increasingly designed. The school embraces curricular innovation, pioneering uses of technology, collaborative methods and global perspectives on the future of design.

Indeed, the school has historically emphasized design as opposed to traditional fine art, (i.e. painting and sculpture-- although design v. art is another discussion). Regardless of where one sides in the design v. art debate, it is undeniable that designers are among the first to incorporate new technologies into their practices, and the use of technology is integral to most design practices. It therefore makes sense that Parsons wants to emphasize its new media and technology programs, even within the fine arts department. What's more, a cursory glance at the makeup of each department within Parsons School of Art and Technology, in which the fine arts department resides, reveals that the majority of undergraduates major in a design/ technology/ new media field as opposed to a more traditional medium. This indicates that there is more of a demand for these new media courses than for painting or sculpture courses at the university. There are 76 students enrolled in in the BFA Fine Arts program as opposed to 306 students in the BFA Communication Design Program, and 163 students in the BFA Design and Technology Program. So, if Parsons wants to make its Fine Arts program more desirable, perhaps it should emphasize art that uses technology (new genres as opposed to painting and sculpture.) And, especially during a recession, it makes sense that the demand for more marketable art and design skills such as web design would be up. Even if one is using technologies such as photoshop, illustrator, flash, html programming, etc, in a fine art practice, they are still arguably more marketable skills than painting.

And this brings me to the adjunct faculty that was cut or demoted. Although no complete list of the affected faculty has been released, from the outraged comments, it seems as though the majority of those affected are those who work in traditional media. For example, Dale Emmart and Jean-Pierre Roy , both repeatedly mentioned and quoted in articles and on blogs, are both painters. In fact, one could argue that, had some of these artists expanded and diversified their practices to include new media, their contracts may have been renewed. I am an installation artist with an MFA in printmaking, but, because I am well-versed in technology, the undergraduate courses I have taught (not at Parsons) include Digital Imaging and Internet Imaging. So, is the terminating of faculty contracts of those working in traditional media socially irresponsible because traditional media is more socially valuable than new media? In reality, one could also make a (weaker) case that because so much of new genre work is politically motivated, particularly in these times, it is in fact, new media that is more morally responsible.

What's more, the administration at Parsons has said that they plan on adding more full-time faculty as well as new adjuncts. So aren't they still providing working artists with income, even if it is a different group of working artists? And, the addition of full-time faculty positions will provide more working artists with health insurance, benefits, job security, and a decent wage, things that one doesn't get as an adjunct.

Finally, I find Columbia's position on the matter particularly hypocritical and self-serving (and I say this as a Columbia alumna, a former staff member, and a sometimes adjunct faculty member of the University, who considers several of the letter signers mentors and friends). Last year, when Carol Becker became the new dean of Columbia's School of the Arts, she eliminated several longtime administrative staff members, redefining their positions and making them (unsuccessfully) reapply for them. How was that more or less moral than what new chair, Coco Fusco is doing at Parsons? Is it because Parsons is redefining teaching positions and Columbia redefined admin positions? They are all still jobs in the arts that attract artists. Given Columbia's tense relationship with their own former faculty member, Fusco, the criticism seems suspicious.

What is warranted is outrage over the way in which Parson's restructuring is taking place. It does appear to be too cloaked in secrecy. The lines of communication have to be kept open with students, faculty, staff, and alumni so that the restructuring feels more like a collaborative process that will ultimately lead to a more enriching educational experience, rather than a dark dictatorship that will lead to mutiny. Kerrey and Fusco need to address the concerns of the community with more than guarded press releases. Otherwise, no matter how morally in the right they are, they will seem like the bad guys.

Don't be afraid to make a commodity

2009-03-11T10:26:00.005-04:00

This past Sunday, I went to the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council (LMCC) Workspace Works-in Progress Open Studios. Although there were notable exceptions, including Laura Braciale's object-paintings and Elana Herzog's fiber and molded paper pieces, I noticed that a majority of the work was project generated. That is, rather than make objects--paintings or sculptures, the artist has "made" an idea. The tangible work created serves less as an aesthetic object that is the working through and realization of an idea, and more as the illustration of an idea. It's a blueprint rather than a building. Because the object produced is not really the artist's work, it makes it difficult for the viewer to be critical of the work. For example, an artist decides she is interested in language, and the connections we draw from seemingly unrelated objects. She places groups of objects together. The viewer says, "Yes. I see these connections." The conversation is over.

When the craft and process are immaterial rather than integral to the creation of an artwork, the work produced does not feel like art, but instead, like a secondary, disconnected thing. Ironically, the problem is the same if the object created is mired in process, so well crafted that there is nothing beyond the pure aesthetics of it. Perhaps, in the last decade of excess, many artists were so afraid to create a commodity that they chose instead to essentially create nothing at all. So now is the time to rejoice-- nobody's buying art! Artists are free to make THINGS without fear of being accused of simply making a sellable something. So make a painting; make a sculpture; or make an installation or a video, but just don't be afraid to make a commodity, because right now, it's not one.

Brandeis: Selling is not always the solution

2009-01-27T21:22:00.004-05:00

The New York Times reported that Brandeis University has decided to close its Rose Art Museum, and sell off it entire collection to raise funds for the school, which potentially faces a $10 million budget deficit. Jehuda Reinharz, the university's president issued a statement about the decision:

These are extraordinary times We cannot control or fix the nation’s economic problems. We can only do what we have been entrusted to do — act responsibly with the best interests of our students and their futures foremost in mind.

In a previous posting, I advocated that LA MOCA, also in financial crisis, sell off works from its permanent collection in order to raise revenue. The decision to sell the Rose Art Museum's collection, however, is an entirely different scenario, one which will have lasting effects on the university, the student body it attracts, and the cultural education that its students receive.

First, Brandeis University is located in Waltham, MA, 9 miles outside of Boston. This is certainly a manageable driving distance, but many undergraduate students come to the university without a car. For them, the museum offers a more convenient opportunity to see many of the works they've read about in their art history textbooks. The collection includes paintings by Willem de Kooning, Jasper Johns, Roy Lichtenstein, Morris Louis, James Rosenquist, and Andy Warhol. It also has a valuable contemporary collection, with works by Kiki Smith, Matthew Barney, Richard Serra, and Judy Pfaff, among others. Indeed, for many students, viewing the collection at the Rose is their first experience seeing a Modern masterpiece in person, their first time seeing challenging contemporary art. Eliminating the collection also eliminates this opportunity.

What's more, the museum is world renowned. Not only do scholars travel to Waltham, MA to study works in the collection, but many of the works have travelled to exhibitions throughout the world. Among the museums that artworks from the Rose have been exhibited in are MoMA, Guggenheim, The Met, and The Philadelphia Museum of Art. It's not simply the student population at Brandeis that is affected; millions of people have seen some of the 6000 works included in the Rose's collection.

Finally, and most importantly, the reflects a value shift for the university. It says that art is not important; it is not valued as more than an indulgence; it is not integral to a liberal arts education. The Rose is a draw for both art students and artist lecturers, who are again, in turn, a draw for art students. I can only imagine that Brandeis' prestigious studio art, art history, and post-bac programs will wither and decline with the news of the Rose's demise.

Brandeis, however, does not seem concerned about losing this cultural-minded student population. In fact, the university is currently undergoing discussions about changes to its curriculum. Proposals include the addition of business and engineering programs as well as finding a way to simultaneously expand undergraduate enrollment while reducing the number of faculty. Dennis Nealon, the executive director of media and public relations at Brandeis, said closing the museum will not damage Brandeis' reputation as "one of the nation's consistently highest ranked educational institutions."

"It's a university first," he said. "It's a university that has a museum, not a museum that has a university. It's not an end to anything. It's a beginning." Indeed-- a beginning of a frightening new value set for Brandeis.

Also check out...

2009-01-24T19:59:00.002-05:00

Stanley Whitney's work in Haunch of Venison's three person exhibition, Infinite Patience. Whitney's geometric abstractions evoke Piet Mondrian and Agnes Martin, folk art and music. Square canvases are divided further into squares, creating a tension between bounded and boundlessness.

Go See...

2009-01-24T17:08:00.004-05:00

If you're in the mood for a good painting show, go see Zach Harris' Requiem Reversals at Max Protetch. Harris makes hallucinatory and psychedelic landscapes that have references as varied as medieval amulets, spiritual Buddhist imagery, Constructivism, Impressionism, and Abstract Expressionism. Each painting is encapsulated by a delicate, carefully crafted wood frame, each its own complete world.

Also check out my fellow Tyler alum, Marlo Pascual at the Swiss Institute. Pascual creates fragmentary still lifes from found vintage photographs and props such as cacti, an old lamp, a wooden beam that are simultaneously nostalgic and creepy.

I say sell

2008-12-02T11:08:00.004-05:00

Last week, billionaire philanthropist Eli Broad offered $30 million to the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art, which announced several days prior to that, that it was in financial crisis. LA MOCA’s endowment has withered to less than $10 million, from its high of about $40 million several years ago. The Museum has been forced to make cuts that include closing more than half its exhibition space, the Geffen Contemporary annex, for six months.

Broad was a founding chair of LA MOCA in 1979, and has long been one of Los Angeles’ biggest arts patrons, recently donating over $60 million to the Los Angeles County Museum. In an op-ed article published on Saturday, November 22nd, Broad stated that through his Broad Art Foundation, he would invest $30 million in LA MOCA “with the expectation that the museum’s board and others join in this effort to solve the institution’s financial problems.”

The gift is contingent on the Museum remaining independent. Broad’s op-ed stated: “Being merged into another institution would destroy the fabric of a great museum and would sacrifice the independent curatorial vision that has created an extraordinary collection and many unparalleled exhibitions.”

Furthermore, he warned that the museum should not sell any of its collection: “The greatest travesty to come out of MOCA’s current financial crisis would be for it to sell any of its artworks to cover operating deficits—an action that would be anathema for a museum.”

But, without merging with another institution, such as the Los Angeles County Museum of Art or the University of Southern California, as officials at the museum had talked about, or selling pieces of the Museum’s permanent collection, how can LA MOCA raise money? The country is in economic crisis; many corporate arts patrons such as the Lehman Brothers have failed; it’s not that they are simply not giving money to the arts, it’s that there is no money to give, and sometimes even no company to give it! The Museum can only raise ticket prices so high before people, already cutting back on restaurants, movies, and other entertainment expenditures, stop coming.

I understand that it is important for LA MOCA to retain its own identity—remaining an independent institution is integral to its mission “to be the defining museum of contemporary art,” and if it’s able to weather this current economic recession, it should not come out married to another institution that might stifle its curatorial vision.

This is why the Museum must sell works from its permanent collection in order to raise revenue. The alternative is to put on vapid blockbuster shows—shows that will bring in the crowds and perhaps some memberships (which increase revenue), but are inexpensive, and not necessarily thought provoking. LA MOCA has had blockbuster shows in recent memory—Takashi Murakami comes to mind. But this could not have been an inexpensive show. Indeed, the museum is still dealing with some of the legal repercussions of the exhibition.

Instead, think: summer show. But in the fall, winter and spring too. Then it just becomes Guggenheim Vegas. And we all know how that went. In the summer, museums tend to give the public more eye candy than substantive art meal. It's hot. It's harder to think. We just want to see pretty things. I’ll admit, I’ve enjoyed some of these: Jackie O at the Met in 2000, Summer of Love at the Whitney in 2007. These are fun shows, they are shows that draw crowds, but they are not thought provoking or challenging. They are not introducing a new audience to an established but difficult artist’s work, or an emerging artist to the larger audience that a museum brings.

What’s more, this is a museum of Contemporary Art. Contemporary art by definition is always changing. While work of the 80’s or 70’s or 60’s is valuable and has a place in the art historical canon, and helps us to understand and put into perspective works made in the 21st century that we are now living in, it is almost three, four, or five decades old. Perhaps it now fits another museum or collector’s mission better. The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) has a long history of selling valuable works from its permanent collection in order to raise revenue for new works and exhibitions. It has not been, as Eli Broad warns, an anathema to that museum, and it won’t be for LA MOCA. Putting on a show about Harleys or Swatch watches or nostalgic television shows or some other inane thing to raise revenue would be an anathema. Selling off some of the permanent collection just might save this museum.

Hard Times, Art Times

2008-11-19T20:05:00.005-05:00

One of my favorite quotes comes from the Preface to Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Gray:

All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.
When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.
We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.
All art is quite useless.

Indeed, art is useless. A Mercedes, although pricey, functions as a car. It will get you to the Fairway Market, or to the burbs to visit your family. A Knoll table is a place to rest your coffee cup each morning. A steak from Peter Luger’s fills your stomach. A Marc Jacobs coat keeps you warm. One can even argue that these items are well made; they will last a long time (well, not the steak.) Part of their exorbitant price tags comes not just from their labels, but from their high quality. But art is the ultimate luxury item, the supreme commodity. No one needs art and then chooses to buy the best art, or chooses to buy a less flashy but well made and functional piece of art. Art is valuable because it is unnecessary.

And so, in this present day economic crisis, as individuals and companies cut back, eliminating every extra from cappuccini to water coolers to bonuses to entire positions, are people indulging in this thing we call art? How is the art world, a planet of Jeff Koons and Damien Hirsts and Liz Peytons, that often seems unrelated to the rest of Earth, affected by the world of stock crashes and adjustable rate mortgages?

Several of my friends who are art handlers were just laid off. Another friend at a non-profit arts organization did not have her contract renewed because of a lack of funding. A gallery that was interested in a friend six months ago told him that they are not taking any new artists at this time. Shows for others are being pushed back. These are hard times to be an investment banker, but they are also hard times to be an artist.

The collapse of Lehman Brothers has had grave repercussions for the artworld: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the American Folk Art Museum, the Asia Society, the Brooklyn Museum of Art, the Dahesh Museum of Art, the Frick Collection, the International Center of Photography, the Japan Society, the Jewish Museum, the Morgan Library & Museum, the Museum of Arts & Design, the New Museum of Contemporary Art and the Whitney Museum of American Art all counted Lehman Brothers among their patrons. Indeed, in the past year, the investment bank gave millions in charitable donations to museums. They were the lead sponsor for both the Brice Marden retrospective at MoMA and the Jackson Pollock show No Limits, Just Edges at the Guggenheim. Certainly museums are now searching for alternative funding. Exhibitions will likely be scaled back, and run for longer periods of time.

In addition to the loss in arts funding that is a direct result of the Lehman Brothers’ bankruptcy, they are now selling their corporate art collection, a part of the Neuberger Berman asset management unit. They are taking bids from several companies, but if the recent disappointing auction sales are any indication, despite the stellar quality of the collection, it may go for less than expected.

A Sotheby’s auction earlier this month netted one million dollars less than expected for a Warhol painting. Works by other prominent artists, including Jeff Koons, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Gerhard Richter failed to sell at London's Frieze Art Fair.

This is a huge contrast from two years ago, when Columbia University’s School of the Arts decided to stop allowing its first year MFA’s to participate in open studios, because too many dealers were coming and buying up the work of students before they’d even completed a semester of graduate school. Will galleries take a chance on an emerging artist’s work right now, when they are having difficulty selling the works of other, more established artists? How many galleries will even survive this economic collapse? What will become of Chelsea? Can anything but the blue-chips persevere?

This could be the rise of a new neighborhood for art in New York City, The recession of the 90’s is ultimately what lead to the rise of Soho and then Chelsea as the premiere gallery/ studio neighborhoods. Galleries have already begun to spring up in the Lower East side. We’ll see more of this, and an expansion of the Williamsburg/ Bushwick gallery scene as well, as galleries are unable to afford the rents in Chelsea.

Finally, although this is not a good time for art selling, it may be a great time for artmaking. In recent years, a lot of work has been, at least in part, about commerce and consumerism: Takashi Murakami, Jeff Koons, Mark Kostabi, Damien Hirst. Perhaps its time that we, as artists, look back to movements such as arte povera for inspiration. I predict that we’ll be seeing more performance art, more art in public and community spaces, more ephemeral work, and more socially conscious work in the next few years. Art can leave the realm of sarcasm that has been the standard for so long and instead be unabashedly sincere. I can't wait.

Go see...

2008-11-17T09:45:00.002-05:00

If you miss a good painting show, go see Live Forever: Elizabeth Peyton at the New Museum. I remember hearing Liz Peyton speak at Columbia University's Visiting Artist Lecture Series in 2002. She played a Strokes video, said nothing substantive, and generally seemed too cool for school. I was completely turned off and couldn't enjoy her work for years. But her paintings are just so damn good, I'm a fan again. Her more recent work, portraits of friends done from life rather than from magazine photographs, as her earlier work was, are especially striking: full of life, defying the image of the vapid speaker that I saw six years ago. Each jewel colored portrait is at once feminine and suggestive, precious and bold. With some work, I like it because of the artist. With these, I can't help myself; I like it in spite of her.

This is my life. Breathe.

2008-10-07T11:45:00.003-04:00

On September 30th, the contract for one of my three jobs ended. I know that doesn’t sound horrible, but I am a freelancer, and I need three jobs to survive. I can’t remember not having three jobs. I can’t remember not always searching for a new job, perhaps a slightly better job, or perhaps just something to pay the bills. I can’t remember not being broke.

Indeed, I am underemployed and living on my best friend’s couch. Two overflowing reusable grocery bags, filled with my belongings, sit on her easy chair. A pair of flip-flops, a pair of flats, and my running sneakers are tucked beneath. My friend has begun calling me Kato.

To be fair, I was living in Adrienne’s apartment for the entire month before I lost my job. At first, she wasn’t here; she was vacationing and I was performing valuable services: watering her plants, retrieving her mail, making the place look lived in. Then she returned, and I stayed because it was an opportunity to hang out—we hadn’t seen each other in over a month! Plus, I could cook and clean for her. I love cooking! I love organizing! And my friend really doesn’t, so again—valuable services. But, at this moment, as I sit at my computer in pajama pants and watch her get ready for her job at a big, corporate law firm, the fact that I have no work today makes the situation feel ever more pathetic.

In high school, I was voted “Most Likely to Succeed.” Now, my ten-year reunion is approaching, and my goal is to have health insurance before I attend. Why this impending reunion has suddenly motivated me to acquire a healthcare plan beyond band-aids and my friends’ expired prescription drugs, I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m fearful that seeing my former classmates married, with children and homes and pets and full-time jobs, leading peppy suburban lives, will send me over the edge. I’ll drunkenly take off running and wind up smack into a metal traffic sign, ending the night with a concussion and in desperate need of stitches and a tetanus shot.

I try to remind myself that I have chosen this. I am an artist. I have chosen to live this hobo/ boho lifestyle, free from job security and most of what modern medicine has to offer, but also free from suits and meetings and moral/political compromise. I get to make art. And sometimes, I get to show the art that I make. I get to help other people make art, and teach people new ways of artmaking. I get to be an artist. And so, on the brink of an anxiety attack, I repeat this mantra: This is my life. This is my choice. Breathe.

Work in Progress

2008-09-21T14:28:00.002-04:00

I took a break from blogging for the summer to settle into a new job with Sarah Sze and a new studio space in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

But now, school is in session, and I am back. In addition to working for Sarah, I am also teaching a printmaking course at Columbia University.

Pictured is an installation in progress from my studio. Built from recycled cardboard tubes, styrofoam packaging, copper wire, string, and pushpins, the work is meant to use household/ industrial items to recall ecological systems.

In the Hudson River Valley...

2008-06-26T00:07:00.002-04:00

I have three pieces presently on view at the Ann Street Gallery, in Newburgh, New York, located in the Hudson River Valley.

The exhibition, Printed Matter, includes work from nine contemporary artists working with printmaking, often combining traditional techniques and modern technologies.

Pictured are my pieces, Swarm, woodcut, digital, and collage on Japanese paper and Into the thicket, woodcut, monotype, and collage on Japanese paper.

At Gallery Satori

2008-06-25T23:20:00.002-04:00

An article in The New York Times this week talks about the "SoHoification" of the Lower East Side. It's referring to the glut of new galleries in the neighborhood. I visited one of these galleries last week. Gallery Satori's inaugural exhibition, Unreal City, features work from twelve emerging artists that explores the perpetually changing urban landscape.

Highlights include Stephanie Costello's pen and ink drawing of a deteriorating landscape filled with tattered flags and ribbons.

Cosme Herrera's drawing, New Forests II, uses minimal elements to create a complex space. A wood grain vinyl sits starkly on top of a white sheet of paper. The horizontal line of the grain contrasts with the organic, root-like structure in the foreground, while the vertical grain emphasizes the lines of one point perspective that the wall-like structures follow.

The show is open until July 27th. Gallery Satori is located at 164 Stanton Street in Manhattan.

Low tech works too

2008-06-04T00:16:00.003-04:00

At RARE PLUS, Italian artist Eugenio Percossi's installation, Black and White, made me smile. I was so enamored with Olafur Eliasson's Room for one colour, in which the Scandinavian artist used a weird yellow light to make viewers in the room appear to be black and white. Percossi's installation also evokes old cinema and black and white photography, but it does so in an even more low-tech way. Every thing in this empty bedroom is in shades of gray-- from the bed and bedding to the wallpaper, the paintings, the books and the bookcase that holds them, even the plant. The viewer then comes upon a mirror in which she sees herself, a startling splash of color, an intruder in this vintage world. Fun show.

On view through June 21st at RARE

Take your time

2008-05-17T11:37:00.010-04:00

Take your time, an exhibition of Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson’s works is presently on view at MoMA and P.S.1.

The works reminded me of the Spencer Finch show at MASS MoCA that I saw earlier this year. Both artists are interested in space, light, nature, and research as a means to artmaking. But, unlike Finch, who's experiental studies are obsessive recreations of natural phenomena, Eliasson is interested not in replicating but in interfering with the way in which we experience space and light.

Some projects, such as Negative quasi brick wall, a wall filled with mirrors stacked for a kaleidoscopic effect, come across as simply special effects—superficially dazzling, but in the end, vapid, empty.

And, indeed, the artist does have an affection for special effects, for almost filmic illusions played out not on film, but right in front of the viewer. But, Eliasson’s most successful installations are magical. Your strange certainty kept still appears to have stopped time—a scrim of precipitation seems to be frozen in mid air. I walked into Room for one colour, a vacant room with an odd light, and then, I watched amazed as the person who walked by me looked as though he were in black and white. I looked down at my own arm and found that I too, had been transformed into a monochrome heroine, a character from Pleasantville.

And yet, the magic is not lost, even when we learn the trick. In each of his installations, Eliasson reveals the lights and motors and parts that make it function. Reversed Waterfall, on view at PS 1, is a mess of scaffolding and pipes and pumps that sends water streaming upward. Beauty is rainbow in a darkened room, created simply with mist and light. This exposure, like many of the effects themselves, is also reminiscent of early film. We can watch George Méliès, the "Cinemagician's" works now, and know how the simple, yet innovative effects were done, and still feel charmed, even awed. Charming too, are Eliasson's often low tech magic tricks. They are more mesmerizing than any summer blockbuster's CGI. Take your time and enjoy.

Pictured are Olafur Eliasson's Your strange certainty kept still and Beauty.

Columbia at Fisher Landau Center for Art

2008-05-06T12:43:00.017-04:00

This past Sunday I went to the Fisher Landau Center for Art to view Columbia University’s MFA Thesis exhibition.

Highlights included Oz Malul’s sculptures-- Rube Goldberg-like machines designed to advance a slide, or send a ball back and forth. They reminded me of Peter Fischli and David Weiss' 1987

art film Der Lauf der Dinge (The Way Things Go).

Diane Wah displayed a series of

large-scale, printed album covers that commented on race, gender, politics and art history, and included one with Gregory Amenoff posing as Don Imus.

Large drawings by Alyssa Phoebus are dense, labored works: a mix of seams that resemble both scars and pinking shear cuts, of letter fragments and lines that simultaneously recall barbed wire and embroidery. With phrases like “Harder Harder” or “Rough Sex With A Big Man,” the works comment on our relationship with gender, sexual violence and sexuality.

Pictured are: Shoot the Moon, by Oz Malul, Way Down Under by Diane Wah, and Rough Sex With a Big Man and Good Woman by Alyssa Phoebus.

More on Habacuc

2008-04-29T08:07:00.004-04:00

For several days I’ve been sifting through blogs and comment pages about the Habacuc installation in which the Nicaraguan artist tethered an emaciated stray dog in a gallery for three hours, with the words “Eres Lo Que Lees” (You are what you read) written on the wall in dog biscuits. The misplaced outrage over the piece by Habacuc, also known as Guillermo Vargas Jiminez, is remarkable. With crazed anger they suggest that he be tied to something and fed to dogs. Others demand that he produce the dog, and take his lack of denial as proof for a chain e-mail’s claim that he allowed the dog to starve to death. (All credible evidence suggests that the dog was emaciated when captured, and was fed before and after the exhibition period before escaping.) Still others acknowledge that perhaps it is true that he fed the dog before and after the three hour exhibition period, but that even three hours was cruel, and that allowing the dog to escape back to the streets is also cruel. The Humane Society's site laments the fact that he couldn’t be punished because there are no animal cruelty laws in Nicaragua. Most, if not all of these people live in privilege. They are from the United States or England or Europe. Indeed, they seem ignorant of the conditions in Nicaragua.

A country can only implement animal welfare laws when most of the humans in that country enjoy a certain standard of living. UNICEF reports that Nicaragua is the third poorest country in the Americas. The per capita gross national product is just $453. The disparity between the distribution of the nation’s wealth is significant: forty-five percent of all income goes to the richest ten percent of the population and just fourteen percent goes to the poorest. The CIA’s site confirms these facts and further states, “While the country has progressed toward macroeconomic stability in the past few years, annual GDP growth has been far too low to meet the country's needs, forcing the country to rely on international economic assistance to meet fiscal and debt financing obligations.” The CIA also states: “The US-Central America Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA) has been in effect since April 2006 and has expanded export opportunities for many agricultural and manufactured goods.” However, the Nicaraguan economy is much more dependent on the service industry; agriculture represents only about seventeen percent of the gross national product. And, the rising costs of both energy and grain, including corn, a main staple in the Nicaraguan diet, are further hindrance to any economic growth.

Indeed, many Nicaraguans are dependent upon La Chureca, a massive garbage dump, for food and income. Almost a third of the people who work in the dump are children between the ages of seven and eighteen. They scavenge for items to sell and for discarded food, over which they often fight with dogs and carrion-eating birds.

Americans should also recognize the United States government’s role in perpetuating poverty and violence in Nicaragua with the Iran-Contra affair of the 1980’s. The Contras refers to insurgent groups that opposed Nicaragua’s Sandinistas, a leftist political party supported by the people of Nicaragua in the 1970’s and 80’s. The Contras, short for contrarevolucionarios. operated out of camps in Honduras and Costa Rica and included remnants of the Somoza guard, which had a history of censorship, intimidation, torture and murder. Their actions, condemned by the World Court, included planting underwater mines in Nicaragua's Corinto harbor in order to disrupt shipping. The United States, unhappy with the idea of the Marxist Sandinistas, imposed a trade embargo on Nicaragua. Furthermore, the Reagan administration began to secretly and illegally support the Contras, funding them with money from arms sold to Iran in what became known as the Iran-Contra affair.

Many individuals and organizations, including the Humane Society, argue that if Habacuc wanted to expose the plight of stray dogs in Nicaragua, there were better ways to do it; he should not have exploited this one stray. But, alerting the world to the fact that there are so many starving, emaciated, homeless dogs wandering the streets of Nicaragua was just one small component of Exposición #1. The installation is also about the starving people of Nicaragua. And even more so, it is about the fact that people with the power to act fail to do so when directly confronted with the opportunity. The artist did not stop anyone from feeding Natividad, the dog in his installation. No one tried. People are more content to feel outraged, to sign petitions, to ignorantly protest from the comfort of their heated homes, or air-conditioned offices, than they are to actually intervene. Think about this the next time you see a stray cat scamper through your neighborhood. Or the next time you pass by a homeless person begging for money or food. Or as you drive through a neighborhood with a women's shelter. Are you a hypocrite?

Habacuc Hoax

2008-04-24T21:32:00.009-04:00

I have now received two chain e-mails about artist Guillermo Vargas Jiminez' piece, Exposición #1 (Exhibit #1). The e-mail claims: "In 2007, the 'artist' Guillermo Vargas Habacuc, took a dog from the street, tied him to a rope in an art gallery, and starved him to death. For several days, the 'artist' and the visitors of the exhibition have watched emotionless the shameful 'masterpiece' based on the dog's agony, until eventually he died." It then goes on to ask the recipient to sign a petition to stop the installation from being exhibited again at the Bienal Centroamericana Honduras.

In fact, Exposición #1, originally installed at Códice Gallery in Managua, Nicaragua, included a captured emaciated stray dog, named Natividad, tethered with a short leash in the gallery, with the words "Eres Lo Que Lees" (You Are What You Read) spelled out above him on the wall in dog biscuits. The Sandinista anthem was played backwards as an incense burner burned with what Guillermo Vargas Jiminez, also known as Habacuc, claims were one hundred seventy five pieces of crack cocaine.

The artist claims that he wanted to test the public's reaction, insisting that not one of the exhibition's visitors attempted to intervene to end Natividad's suffering. In an interview published on Yahoo (in Spanish), Habacuc explains that the installation was inspired by an event that occurred in 2005, in which Natividad Canda, a Nicaraguan crack addict, was fatally attacked by two dogs as police, firefighters, and other looked on, unwilling to intervene. A video of the incident, which lasted almost two hours, was taken and appeared on Nicaraguan television. He won't comment on the ultimate fate of the animal because he wishes to retain a sense of doubt. "Las respuestas categóricas no aportan nada," he says. (Categorical responses do nothing.) He further observes, "El ojo humano es traicionero. A fin de cuentas, lo que uno ve es aparente y cabe la posibilidad de que luego venga un momento de reflexión." (The human eye is treacherous. After all, what one sees is apparent and it is possible that then comes a moment of reflection.)

However, articles in the Observer and La Prensa (in Spanish) quote Juanita Bermúdez, the director of the Códice Gallery as stating, "It was untied all the time except for the three hours the exhibition lasted and it was fed regularly with dog food Habacuc himself brought in." She also says that the dog actually escaped after one day.

And, indeed, the Humane Society has investigated the incident and although they condemn the use of live animals in "exhibits such as this," they also have not found cause to believe that the dog was actually harmed by the artist.

Furthermore, the claim that Habacuc intends to replicate the installation in the Bienal Centroamericana Honduras is also false. Although he has been asked to participate in the biennial, he never planned to recreate Exposición #1; he is working on a new piece for the show.

That said, Exposición #1 was a successful piece. The artist very knowingly used the media. He intended to expose the initial apathy of a public that had the opportunity to intervene, and then almost hypocritical outrage of the public after the fact, and he did this. In many ways this is not just what happened with Natividad Canda, but also with Rodney King, and even with Abu Ghraib. It is why we are told to yell "Fire!" rather than "Help!" if being attacked. It is how we walk past the homeless each day. It's how we watched the Taliban abuse women in Afghanistan for years before September 11th. It is even how we greedily and wastefully consume our natural resources as we frantically search for a cure for global warming and climate change. We like to sign petitions and get outraged after the fact, but when faced with the opportunity to interpose, to mediate, to actually do something, would we? Do we? Are we?

Please don't call him "da Vinci!"

2008-04-23T15:09:00.004-04:00

On my recent trip to Milan, I had the pleasure of seeing Leonardo’s masterpiece, L'Ultima Cena (The Last Supper), which is housed in Santa Maria delle Grazie. But, I cringed each time I heard someone refer to the artist as “da Vinci.” “Da Vinci” means, “from Vinci.” It is the town from which the artist hailed; it’s not his last name!

Leonardo, an illegitimate child, was simply given the name “Leonardo” at birth. He had no last name, although his father, Ser Piero did allow him to be called Leonardo di Ser Piero. The Ser Piero family was fairly established in Vinci, a town in Tuscany. Thus, they were the Ser Piero’s da Vinci. When Leonardo became an apprentice to Verrocchio, with his father’s permission, he referred to himself as Leonardo da Vinci in order to distinguish himself from other Leonardos. Indeed, he later referred to himself as Leonardo il Fiorentino, or the Florentine. (Leonardo eventually had his own workshop in Florence.)

So call him Leonardo da Vinci if you must. Or just call him Leonardo. He needs no other name. But please don’t call him “da Vinci.”

Pictured is Leonardo’s The Last Supper

Tomas Vu at Amste Arte

2008-04-23T11:26:00.002-04:00

Just outside of Milan, in Lissone, AMSTE arte contemporanea gallery presents Flat Land, an exhibition of paintings by Vietnamese-born American artist Tomas Vu. The exhibition includes eight paintings from Vu’s Flat Land series. The works, made from layered silk screens, collaged wood veneer, and ink wash, portray a catastrophic battle between man, nature and machine. Like the Nadia Hironaka and Matthew Suib video projection at the Icebox in Philadelphia, this work also evokes Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights, ultimately depicting a beautiful, yet damning post-apocalyptic vision of a dystopic world.

Pictured are paintings from the exhibition.

Ciao da Milano!

2008-04-23T10:45:00.004-04:00

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I’ve just returned from a five-day work trip to Milan, Italy. It was a fantastic time to be in the city because this past week was Milan’s annual turn at being the “Intenational Design Capital.” Interni sponsored a GreenEnergyDesign event, in which designers were encouraged to create sustainable, eco-friendly products that used and reused materials in innovative ways.

The Dream City asks the viewers to generate energy via bicycle in order to light up and see portions of the exhibits.

Tejo Remy’s Chest of Drawers XS is a smaller version of her first chest of drawers, entitled, You Can't Lay Down Your Memory, created in 1991 as a critique of consumerism.

Till death do us part is a table whose concept was developed by Martino d’Esposito. Disturbed by the amount of usable objects that people throw away after buying newer replacements, that they will then eventually throw away and replace, the designer asked Frank Bragigand to paint a second-hand table, onto which he then burned a contract that binds its owner to keep, use and care for the table for the rest of his life.

Tobias Rockenfeld’s Creatures repurposes old, broken toys by dissecting them and combining them with household items, trash and each other to create a series of creatures that swim, fly, hover, or crawl.

In Defense of Aliza Shvarts-- Sort of

2008-04-20T03:00:00.003-04:00

Much press has recently been devoted to Yale Senior Aliza Shvarts’ senior thesis project after it was first written about in the Yale Daily News. Shvarts, an art major, claims that the project is a documentation of a nine-month period in which she artificially inseminated herself from the ninth to the fifteenth day of her cycle, “as often as possible” and then used herbal, abortifacient drugs to induce miscarriages. Her exhibit includes a large cube, suspended from the ceiling, and wrapped with plastic sheeting that holds the blood from the self-induced miscarriages, mixed with Vaseline.

After bloggers, and then major news sources picked up the story, most of them outraged that the project trivialized abortion or that Shvarts abused her right to choose, Yale University issued a statement that the project was a fiction: Shvarts never impregnated herself nor induced miscarriages. “The entire project is an art piece, a creative fiction designed to draw attention to the ambiguity surrounding form and function of a woman’s body.”

However, Shvarts denies Yale’s account, claiming she does not know if she ever was impregnated and whether she actually miscarried. In a guest column for the Yale Daily News, she writes, “To protect myself and others, only I know the number of fabricators who participated, the frequency and accuracy with which I inseminated and the specific abortifacient I used. Because of these measures of privacy, the piece exists only in its telling.” She goes on to say, “No one can say with one hundred percent certainty that anything in the piece did or did not happen. The nature of the piece is that it did not consist of certainties.”

Shvarts insists that the purpose of the project was not “shock value” but instead to inspire discourse about the body and its relationship to art. And, indeed, the project has provoked conversation. In this respect, Shvarts was successful. However, from Shvarts’ comments about the work, it seems that the specific conversation generated was not the desired outcome.

The focus of the debate has been specifically about abortion— is abortion immoral and if not, is it wrong to attempt to get pregnant for the sole purpose of having an abortion? In many ways, the work reads like an anti-choice piece: If abortion is simply another operation, then why is it wrong/ outrageous/ upsetting/ offensive to attempt this operation as many times as possible in a short period? Are those who claim to be pro-choice but are upset by the act hypocrites? Are they revealing that they know that abortion is actually immoral? It does not inspire further conversation about the designation of certain body parts as sex organs or not. There has been no discussion about the ambiguity of whether the blood in the piece is actually the result of a miscarriage as opposed to simply being menstrual blood, as Aliza Shvarts had hoped there’d be. These points have inevitably been swallowed up by the more emotional, more controversial issue of abortion.

Ultimately, the work reads as naïve work of an undergraduate artist who has studied the work of performance artists like Marina Abramovic and Karen Finley and also wants to make something of importance, something that matters, but is unclear as to the specific statement she’s trying to make, or the most effective way to go about it. The piece is both heavy-handed, and unclear. The concept and materials seemed to have been chosen because they feel important; they are chosen for their controversy and yet the controversy provoked muddies any meaningful debate.

Much has been made about the fact that this student is a Yale undergraduate, a senior about to get a degree from one of the nation’s most prestigious institutions. Regardless of the college she is graduating from, she is an undergraduate: a twenty-one or twenty-two year old who has spent the last four years studying philosophy and theory and weird sciences and whatever else is a part of her bachelor of arts degree as an art major. She is now trying to put all this knowledge into practice as an artist, and, just as a political science major's senior thesis is likely thoughtful, but ultimately flawed, so too is this work. I certainly would not want to be judged upon the art I was making as a twenty-one year old.

What is amazing about this project is that it has generated so many comments of outrage, shock and horror. It's the naive, not particularly good work of a twenty-one year old getting her BA in art. Why talk about it at all?

The Soft Epic at the Icebox

2008-04-12T21:55:00.003-04:00

On Thursday evening, I went to the Crane Arts Center in Philadelphia, for their regular Second Thursday opening. I especially enjoyed the Nadia Hironaka and Matthew Suib video installation in the Icebox, entitled The Soft Epic or: Savages of the Pacific West.

Multiple projections create the 120 foot-long panorama. Pictures of historical disasters such as the 1960 Park Slope plane crash are collaged with representations of Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights along with various effects and images from sci-fi and disaster films. The amalgamation of these dense layers of documentation, mythology and cinema is an epic narrative that recalls Matthew Barney, Hollywood, popular culture, and the political anxiety that periodically and presently permeates American society.

Pictured is The Soft Epic or: Savages of the Pacific West.

Freedom of expression: the SFAI controversy

2008-03-31T17:31:00.004-04:00

Last week, the San Francisco Art Institute (SFAI) suspended, and then ultimately cancelled a controversial exhibition by artist Adel Abdessemed. The show, entitled, “Don’t Trust Me” included video of animals being slaughtered with a sledgehammer. The artist claims that the images are a social critique about food production and the contrast between the industrial. In a statement about the exhibition, SFAI President Chris Bratton explained, “Abdessemed participated in an already existing circuit of food production in a rural community in Mexico. The animals were raised for food, purchased and professionally slaughtered. In fact, the central point of the controversy is that Abdessemed, an artist, entered this exchange, filmed it, and exhibited it. “

Animal rights groups, including PETA and the SPCA, argue that the images are shock art and snuff film. One of the groups’ central arguments for the closing of the exhibition is that it is partially funded by taxpayers. Indeed, SFAI receives about $80,000 in hotel taxes each year that helps fund its public exhibitions and visiting artist lecture series. In a statement to the San Francisco Chronicle, Jan McHugh-Smith, director of the San Francisco SPCA said, “The San Francisco Art Institute used poor judgment in supporting ‘shock art’ in San Francisco. To take this type of brutality against animals, call it art and use tax money to support it is deplorable.”

I did not see the exhibition at SFAI, so I can’t comment on whether it’s ‘shock art’ or has artistic merit or glorifies animal abuse. (I am inclined to think, however, particularly after the recent Westland/ Hallmark slaughterhouse scandal that spawned a massive beef recall, a slaughterhouse film could only further animal rights and would in all likelihood not, as Eliot Katz of In Defense of Animals contended, “send a terrible message to Art Institute students that it's OK to go out and do similar things.”) That said, it’s dangerous to argue that a controversial exhibition should be shut down because it’s partially, or even entirely, funded by taxpayers. Remember that Giuliani tried to do this from the other side of the political spectrum in 1999, threatening to shut down “Sensation”, a show at the Brooklyn Museum of Art that included work critical of the Catholic Church.

Throughout history, from the early depictions of the crucifix in the twelfth century to Goya’s Los Capricios to Degas’ Ballerinas to Picasso’s Guernica, art has challenged authority, societal norms, and accepted standards of decency. This is part of the role of art and the artist; art should engage the viewer; it should provoke thought. Sometimes the artist asks us to think about perspective or color or the nature of painting, and sometimes he asks us to contemplate more difficult subjects: death, the inconsistencies of certain organizations or religions, the cost of war. When we ask that public funds be rescinded for artistic statements that are offensive to some group or critical of some aspect of contemporary society, we are asking the government to fringe upon the artists’ First Amendment rights.

There are those that argue that rescinding funding for these offensive/ critical/ challenging works is not the same as saying that they can’t be made or shown; they simply shouldn’t be made with government funding, or shown in institutions that receive taxpayers’ dollars. This isn’t censorship, they say. Yet, if we do this, we cause self-censorship. Artists and arts organizations and institutions will forgo riskier, controversial endeavors in favor of safer, less critical projects that will more readily receive funding. When this happens, we risk cultural atrophy. Indeed, this was/is the fate for many of the communist nations that practiced such censorship, including East Germany, Romania, Poland and Russia.

Furthermore, where would such censorship stop? Public libraries are funded with taxpayers’ money. Should controversial books be removed from them? Several cities are working to provide free and low-cost internet connections to their entire municipality. Should they be allowed, or even obligated, to block connections to offensive imagery, artwork, critical thought, etc, in the way that China blocks YouTube videos and filters the results of search engines like Google and Yahoo. It is, after all, taxpayers who are paying for this dissemination of information. They are not paying to be encountered with offensive material!

Indeed, such a notion sounds ridiculous in the United States, a democratic nation founded, in part, upon principles of free speech. Yet, over the last thirty years, there have been several battles regarding the restriction of arts funding based upon content, beginning with the 1989 amendment to the National Endowment of the Arts funding that NEA required all grant recipients to certify in advance that none of the funds would be used “to promote, disseminate, or produce materials which in the judgment of the NEA … may be considered obscene.” After several court battles, this amendment was struck down as unconstitutional and in 1998 with The NEA v Finley, the law was most recently redefined to state that the government is not required to subsidize controversial or offensive work. It may (but is not obligated to) consider public decency standards when funding work. However, once funds are provided, it may not withdraw them because it disagrees with the message of the work. To do this would be to censorship.

Be wary of encroaching upon another's civil rights, no matter what your cause is.

The "Aspiring" Artist

2008-03-26T12:46:00.002-04:00

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed the phrase “aspiring artist” being used to describe the young MFA’s who populate Philadelphia, Jersey City, and some of New York’s seedier neighborhoods. For example, on NPR’s Fresh Air, author Richard Price spoke about the aspiring artists living in New York’s lower east side. He goes on to further describe them as “Would-be artists working in restaurants…a wave of MFA’s.”

I take exception to the use of the word “aspiring” before any young person who strives to make his or her living through art. Aspiring: hopeful, would-be, wannabe. The word either conjures images of optimistic naiveté-- a cherubic, Heidi-like girl-woman who paints watercolors from her easel in the woods, and dreams of moving to the big city so that she can sell her paintings and “make it,” or it feels like a sarcastic snort aimed at slacker hipsters living off an allowance from their parents as they claim to make art, but actually spend most of their time shopping for albums and vintage t-shirts, and drinking PBR at Williamsburg bars.

Yet, to describe someone who has invested time and money in a fine arts education as aspiring is insulting. It’s particularly derogatory when it refers to someone who has received an MFA, a terminal degree in the visual arts. Is a PhD of Early Christian Art an aspiring scholar? Is an MBA an aspiring businessperson? Is a JD an aspiring lawyer? We are not aspiring artists; we are artists! We may aspire to be well known, even famous, but we need not aspire to be artists. For that, we need to continue to engage in creative pursuits, to make art.

Indeed, today, that is all one needs to do in order to be an artist— make art. Historically, one had to apprentice to be an artist. Now, that craft is not viewed as integral to art (in fact, it’s often looked down upon), there is no real requirement for calling oneself an artist. This is further complicated by the fact that “What is art?” remains one of the great philosophical questions. Hence, although we can get undergraduate and graduate degrees in painting, sculpture, printmaking, photography, new media, and other fine art genres, these degrees are not technically requisites for the artist; artmaking is the sole qualifier for an artist, and we’re not even sure what that is.

So, perhaps artists are to blame for allowing anyone with a pair of scissors, a glue stick, some glitter, a found object, and some free time one Saturday afternoon to stake claim to our profession. But the artist who lives her life in pursuit of creativity, as a researcher, a thinker and a maker is not aspiring; she is.

The Artist's Workweek

2008-03-21T12:52:00.003-04:00

Last week, on WHYY’s Radio Times, Marty Moss-Coane spoke with Jerry Jacobs and Laurie Granieri about the workweek in America. Granieri, a journalist at Central Jersey’s Home News Tribune newspaper, has recently garnered attention for her decision to stop working at 5:00pm each day so that she “can see the sunset.” Jacobs, a professor of sociology at Penn talked about the pressure for professionals to work long hours, often well beyond a forty-hour workweek. The discussion focused on the work expectations for white-collar, salaried workers such as lawyers, investment bankers, and business people, but it got me thinking about the typical artist’s work week, and the time commitment that an artist feels obliged to give to his or work.

Most artists are unable to support themselves solely with their artwork. Unfortunately, there are few landlords who are willing to barter paintings for rent, and even fewer electricity, gas, and cell phone service providers willing to do so. What’s more, the present weak economy does not inspire many people to purchase art. And, even if an artist does regularly sell his or her work, the income from such sales is still usually not enough to sustain oneself.

Thus, part of the artist’s workweek is often spent working some other job or jobs. Artists clamor for low paying employment that is in some way related to a creative field, if only peripherally. Lifting art, or cataloguing it into a database still allows us to maintain some closeness to the art world. “I moved a Louise Bourgoise today,” someone will brag. Or, “I catalogued a new Takashi Murakami.” I still talk with pride about the day I got to gather twigs in Riverside Park for William Kentridge to use as drawing tools.

Indeed, artists are art movers and handlers; we are adjunct professors; we are framers; we are museum ticket takers; we are gallery admins; we are assistants for other, more prominent artists. Most of these jobs are not fulltime and do not offer benefits, so we often work two, or sometimes three of them. Or we’ll search for odd jobs and the occasional opportunity to be the subject of a medical research experiment for some extra cash.

And then, in the evenings or mornings or weekends or Wednesdays or whatever time we have to ourselves, we must cook and clean and do our laundry, just like most Americans, but we must make our art too, for that is what makes us artists. We feel guilty about any free moment that is not used to make work. Still, we also have to make time to remain knowledgeable about our field-- to visit museums and galleries, to read art publications, to go to conferences, to watch Art:21 on PBS.

Even then, our jobs as artists are not done. We also spend hours each week on NYFA, Transartists, CAA and even craigslist searching for grants, residencies and exhibition opportunities. Still more time is spent putting together packets and applications, most of which will ultimately be rejected.

Indeed, artists work well beyond the traditional forty-hour workweek, even beyond the sixty, seventy or eighty hour workweek that many professionals bemoan. We do so not for any great financial compensation, but simply in the spirit of creativity, of making, of some belief that the world needs art.

Artists' Obligations

2008-03-19T14:35:00.002-04:00

I've recently made a decision to attempt to make work that is more overtly political. For some time I've been very aware of the materials I use to make my work-- where they are made, where they are purchased from, or whether they are purchased at all or instead recycled from old work or found materials. Yet this is not immediately, or perhaps ever, obvious to the viewer who looks at my work. And, as someone who obsessively reads the editorial pages of the NY Times and Washington Post, who listens to NPR podcasts rather than music on my long runs, who subjects her friends to rants about corporate socialism, environmentalism, and the myriad present social injustices, I've begun to feel that not making a more explicit statement with my artwork is irresponsible.

In fact, do artists have a responsibility to make work that critiques, protests, or even simply comments on actions that have led to a world that is being suffocated by carbon dioxide, people fighting in a war that began with false pretenses, major health crises, government sanctioned oppression of groups of people, government sanctioned torture, the list goes on. Should art have a social message? I’ve often postulated that the personal is in the end the universal, which is in some way political. Thus, it is only necessary to create works that have meaning for the artist; the rest flows naturally.

Yet, certainly there is precedent for great political art—Goya’s Los Capricios, Picasso’s Guernica, Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party, and more recently, the work of William Kentridge about apartheid in South Africa, and Daniel Heyman’s prints and installations about the Iraqi detainees and the torture at Abu Ghraib.

Still, art remains a useless commodity. That is, after all, what makes it art; it has no function other than to be admired, and perhaps to engage the viewer, to make one think. Great art will please the viewer multiple levels: it is interesting superficially, and, for some, it will also inspire closer inspection—research, study, reflection, action that will ultimately lead to a more enriching experience.

Indeed, as makers of a useless commodity in a world of rapidly depleting resources, artists need to make work that engages the viewer, even arouses him or her to learn more, to take action. We have enough vapid escapes from reality in the form of television, video games, ridiculous YouTube videos, and our other passive forms of entertainment. Art does not need to offer an escape.

I take some solace in the belief that simply choosing to be an artist is a political statement. In a culture that places a high value on corporations, superficial scandal and anti-intellectual beliefs, the artist’s actions say that there is worth in creative pursuits. There is value in studying art, in studying how to make art, in examining the philosophy that drives art; there is value in learning and in making.

I continue to accept that the personal becomes the universal, that the individual is key to ultimately accessing the collective unconscious. Yet, particularly now, shouldn't the political be what we are personally interested in? In order for art to remain relevant, valuable, and not simply a beautiful yet vapid commodity, art needs to be about something that matters.

Spencer Finch at Mass MOCA

2008-03-17T14:57:00.002-04:00

I recently saw Brooklyn based artist, Spencer Finch’s show, What Time Is It on the Sun? at Mass MOCA, in North Adams, Massachusetts. The show is an investigation of nature—of light, color, wind, and gravity-- that is both conceptually and visually interesting.

The exhibits included are Finch’s sometimes obsessive and often poetic attempt to capture ephemera, the results of exercise in experiential study. For example, in order to create Night Sky (Over the Painted Desert, Arizona, January 11, 2004), Finch worked with a flashlight in a parking lot in the Painted Desert, mixing colors to match the color of the sky. He then weighed the physical mass of each pigment in the mixture and calculated the molecular ratio of each color in the combination. Each of the 401 incandescent bulbs of varying sizes is then used to create electrified models of each pigment’s molecular structure.

CIE 529/418 (Candlelight) uses stained glass filters to transform the day light into the color of candlelight, as determined by a colorimeter.

Sunlight in an Empty Room (Passing Cloud for Emily Dickinson, Amherst, MA August 28, 2004) uses a specific mixture of florescent lights to replicate the Massachusetts sunlight in Emily Dickinson’s yard on a late August afternoon. A cloud is then depicted with a mass of translucent blue, gray and violet filters that are held together with clothespins. As they walk around Finch’s cellophane cloud, viewers can then experience the precise light conditions made by the passing cloud in Dickinson’s yard.

Particularly interesting and unexpected is Finch’s choice of materials; they include cellophane, florescent light bulbs, incandescent lights, fans and artificial turf—synthetic materials that Finch manipulates to describe the organic or natural phenomena.

Pictured are: Night Sky (Over the Painted Desert, Arizona, January 11, 2004), CIE 529/418 (Candlelight) and Sunlight in an Empty room (Passing Cloud for Emily Dickinson, Amherst, MA August 28, 2004)

Residency

2008-03-16T19:13:00.003-04:00

I'm presently halfway through a six week residency at the Women's Studio Workshop, in Rosendale, NY, which is just past New Paltz, in the Hudson River Valley.

I just installed my show, entitled Pollinators: Bees and Bats in their gallery. Pictured are images from the show.

Summer of Love and Papaya King

2007-08-11T16:44:00.001-04:00

My mom and my aunt met up with Adrienne and me in the city to see the Summer of Love Exhibition at the Whitney. We had fun listening to classic rock while we looked at psychedelic posters and Yayoi Kusama works and tried to guess who had eaten some magic mushrooms before viewing the show. Afterward, we all enjoyed smoothies and hotdogs (no hotdog for me though) from Papayaking.

Artwork pictured: Verner Panton's Phantasy Landscape Visiona II, 1970/2000

Student Work

2007-07-03T13:16:00.000-04:00

The first summer session has officially ended. Grades are in, and I'm generally pleased with my class' work. Pictured are some of my favorite pieces.

Summer Session 2007

2007-07-03T13:05:00.000-04:00

My first adjunct professor position is teaching the printmaking courses during Tyler's first summer session. Pictured are the college kids working in the Penrose shop and on our field trip to the Abington Arts Center.

Official MFA

2007-05-18T16:32:00.000-04:00

On Thursday I graduated from Tyler School of Art. I am now officially a Master of Fine Art! Woo hoo!

Hola de Mexico

2007-05-18T16:24:00.000-04:00

My Mom and I partied like college kids on Spring Break on our vacation in Mexico... Actually, we lathered on the SPF 60, and broke up our time drinking coronas on the beach with relaxing by pool or on the hammock. ¡Me encanta Mexico!

Philosophy on the Way to Ecology

2007-05-18T16:14:00.001-04:00

My MFA Thesis Show, Philosophy on the Way to Ecology, reception at Tyler Gallery. It was Cinco de Mayo, and I made guac, salsas and sangria for the occasion. Pictured are shots from the opening, my family and Pete posing, Dennis using a copper wire sculpture as a punching bag and Sarasota Adrienne meeting Sarasota Dennis.

Jump!

2007-05-18T16:11:00.000-04:00

Pete and I jumping in my Philosophy on the Way to Ecology installation. (Photos by Pete Ippel.)

Pete in Philly!

2007-05-18T15:57:00.001-04:00

Pete came to Philly for my MFA thesis show. I had just moved out of my apartment, so we spent part of the time at a B & B in Chestnut Hill, and part of the time at my friends, Joe and Erin's, apartment. Joe was even nice enough to give us his bedroom-- complete with vinyl pillow-- and Erin cooked us an Asian inspired feast that included mojitos not from a mix! Pictured are: Pete's first "gelati" (custard and italian ice) at Rita's, me with an insanely huge banana split sundae from an inecream shop in Chestnut Hill (Pete shared it with me and we still couldn't finish!), Pete and I in front of the PMA, and pics from Joe and Erin's. Cheers!

Mini Installation

2007-04-05T08:38:00.000-04:00

A mini installation of my work in progress. I'm playing with color shifts right now and when installed in the intended space, the prints will cover the walls a large room of the gallery floor to ceiling, draping over itself and fluctuating in colors and density of the monotypes. The wire sculptures will be in a smaller room of the gallery, some hanging, some on the floor. I haven't decided whether or not to bring the two things together yet...

Macrame Madness!

2007-03-18T19:52:00.000-04:00

Two months before my thesis show, I decided that what my large scale prints need are some macramed copper wire nests to hang in front of them. Woo hoo! Pictured are some of the works in progress, with Dennis modelling them in a way I hadn't contemplated them being shown.

80 degrees on Wednesday and this weekend, snow!

2007-03-18T19:44:00.000-04:00

I thought that spring was here, but not quite! On Friday, it snowed, and so all weekend I've been using my snow scraper to dig my car out of parking spots all weekend. (I don't own a shovel. Or an SUV.)

Halloween!

2006-11-02T22:51:00.000-05:00

Shraddha and I met up with Adj and Liz in NY and partied!

Wedding in Rochester

2006-11-02T22:35:00.000-05:00

My cousin got married this summer in upstate New York. Here are some pics from the wedding.

Napoleon Dynamite must have relatives in the Czech Republic!

2006-11-02T22:16:00.000-05:00

I'm back!

2006-11-02T22:08:00.000-05:00

took a break from blogging this summer... and for the first two hectic months of school back in the US as well.

Here are some of the final pics from Europe... my Mom and Dad posing with the gladiators in Rome, Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin (which is completely fake-- the real checkpoint Charlie was torn down), the astronomical clock in Prague and the beach in Italy.

More posts to come soon...

More sight seeing in Rome!

2006-04-08T11:00:00.000-04:00

The trevi fountain, Hadrian's monument, the Boca della Verita, an alley in Trastevere and a fantastic snack of cappuccini and ricotta cheese cake at the Hendrick (yes Hendrick) Christian Andersen museum.

Ostia Antica day trip

2006-04-08T08:44:00.000-04:00

These recent posts are out of order, as it was two weeks ago (before Ravenna!) that Pete and I took a day trip to Ostia Antica, the second largest preserved ruins, after Pompei. This ancient Roman city of Ostia was founded in the 4th Century BC, and in antiquity situated at the mouth of the river Tiber, some 30 kilometres to the west of Rome, likely to guard against seaborne invasions. The shoreline moved seawards, due to silting, from the Middle Ages until the 19th century. Thus, today, Ostia is still lying next to the Tiber, but at a distance of some three kilometers from the beach. Ostia is Latin for "mouth", the mouth of the Tiber.

The pictures include a floor mosaic from the Baths of Neptune, an archway that allows you to see the multiple levels of the city, and some of your other basic, centuries old ruins images. It is an amazing place.

Weekend in Aqueleia, Grado, and Ravenna

2006-04-07T11:27:00.002-04:00

These are pictures from my weekend studying the art and architecture of Aqueleia, Grado and Ravenna. Ravenna is best known for its mosaics, I've included pictures of the ceiling mosaic from the so-called mausoleum of Galla Placidea (she's actually buried in Rome) as well as mosaics from San Apollinare Nuovo and San Apollinare in Classe. And-- the night sky was amazing! That's not photoshop!

More works from the show

2006-04-06T12:31:00.000-04:00

Pictured are three more works: "Reflected Tumble" (woodcut and goauche on Japanese Paper), 'Cartwheel" (woodcut and goauche on Japanese paper) and "Self Portrait as Venus/ Eve" (monotype, etching and relief on Japanese paper). Enjoy!

First Year MFA Show

2006-04-06T12:12:00.000-04:00

It's been a busy month! I spent most of it preparing for my first year MFA show. I shared the Temple Rome gallery space with one other first year grads, a painter, Marco Phillips. Here is a portion of my artist statement:

"Rome, a modern metropolis whose infrastructure has been built and rebuilt for over two millennia, serves not only as a home base for creation, but also an inspiration. As I build layers on the plate, and then place print upon print and collage drawings over the printed surface, iterations begin to connect on all sides. By printing a plate over and over on a large sheet of paper, the bottom of one image blends into the top of another, recalling the melodic repetition of prayers or chants in which the end of one mantra becomes the beginning of the next. The myriad elements fuse to form a greater, boundless image. As a mark runs off the page on the top, it reappears on the bottom, as it disappears on the left, it reemerges on the right in the same manner as the facades in ancient Rome."

Pictured is a series of unique prints (mixed media on Japanese paper), titled, "The Grace of the Descent."

Olympics in Torino!

2006-02-18T08:03:00.000-05:00

The Olympics are going on, right now, in Italy, and I, of course, am also in Italy, so I decided that I would find a way to get there, An 8 hour and twenty minute overnight train ride later, I found myself in Torino! I went to a hockey game and watched the Russians let out a can of whoop ass, and then I wandered around the city of Torino. I saw a fireworks display, and spent hours in the Sponsors Olympic Village collecting free samples, drinking (also free) hot chocolate, trying out simulated snowboarding and luge games, and ice skating in a rink they'd set up as they projected the live ice dancing competition right next to it! They even had a place to try out curling (the hilarious shuffleboard on ice game). How rad is that?! It was such an amazing experience and I'm so glad I had the opportunity to go.

Spolia

2006-02-12T12:52:00.000-05:00

Spolia, from the Latin term meaning spoils, is used in the art historical sense to refer to architectural and ornamental elements that were taken from their original space and reused in another context. Rome has a great tradition of using spolia. Indeed, many of the columns and marble in medieval and Renaissance churches were originally part of some Late Antique or Byzantine buildings, that were in turn, taken from temples and palaces of Classical Rome.

It is in this spirit of spolia that I decided to cut up some of my old prints and collage them with a drawing to create a new piece.

The second, orange work is also a reuse of sorts-- the same plate used to print the green high jumper piece has been printed again, in orange, and I've collaged another figure on it.

Piero della Francesca pilgramage

2006-02-04T10:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday the five graduate students and our advisor took a day trip to Arezzo and Sansepolcra, two small Tuscan hill town that were home to Renaissance painter Piero della Francesca, and that still house many of his masterpieces. First we went to San Francesco, which has the best preserved fresco by Piero in the world. It recounts the "Golden Legend," a 13th Century text about the Holy Cross.

The story tells how Adam, on his deathbed, sends his his son Seth to Archangel Michael for a holy oil. Michael instead gives him some seedlings from the tree of Knowledge to be placed in his father's mouth at the moment of his death. The tree that grows on Adam's is chopped down by King Solomon and its wood is thrown across a stream to serve as a bridge. The Queen of Sheba, on her journey to see Solomon and hear his words of wisdom, is about to cross the stream, but then has a prophetic vision that the Messiah will be crucified on the wood of that bridge. She kneels in devout adoration. When Solomon discovers the nature of the divine message received by the Queen of Sheba, he orders that the bridge be removed and the wood, which will cause the end of the kingdom of the Jews, be buried. But, of course, the wood is found and, after a second premonitory message, becomes the instrument of the Passion.

Three hundred years later, the Roman Emperor Constantine is told in a dream that he must fight in the name of the Cross to overcome his enemy. After Constantine's victory his mother Helena travels to Jerusalem to recover the miraculous wood. No one knows where the relic of the Cross is, except a man, Judas. Judas is tortured in a well and confesses that he knows the temple where the three crosses of Calvary are hidden. Helena orders that the temple be destroyed; the three crosses are found and the True Cross is recognized because it causes the miraculous resurrection of a dead youth. In the year 615, the Persian Kin Chosroes steals the wood, setting it up as an object of worship. The Eastern Emperor Heraclius wages war on the Persian King and, having defeated him, returns to Jerusalem with the Holy Wood. But a divine power prevents the emperor from making his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. So Heraclius, setting aside all pomp and magnificence, enters the city carrying the Cross in a gesture of humility, following Jesus Christ's example.

It's interesting how the story weaves historically accurate events with fiction, Constantine does fight in a war and overcome his enemy, but, although he later legalizes Christianity and becomes Christian, at the time, Christianity is not his religion. His mother does go on a pilgramage to the holy land, and returns with a fragment of the holy cross. Indeed, a church dedicated to the Holy Cross was built in Rome after she returned with the fragment. However, she had nothing to do with the cross' discovery.

It's also quite fascinating to think that all of the people depicted in the fresco are not Piero's contemporaries, and yet they have been dressed as such. The people who saw this fresco at mass each week saw people in it costumed exactly like themselves, as if this was a battle they had just fought and continue to fight, It's a very modern concept.

The pictures are of the fresco in San Francesco, il Duomo, its architecture and Piero's Maria Magdalena that is housed there, and me, in front of the Tuscan landscape.

New Work in Progress

2006-01-27T13:10:00.000-05:00

Continuing with the mythology theme, I've added Icarus to the blue planes and parachute print. I had always intended to have a figure in the work, but I wasn't sure where or how. This figure is coming slightly off the grid in two places. I'm unsure if I'll back those areas with something or leave them very loose and translucent. Time to experiment!

New Work

2006-01-23T15:42:00.000-05:00

I decided to rework a plate that I had previously made a line etching with. I did an aquatint, and then foul bit some areas, and then took some liberties with wiping to create the atmospheric quality. Collaged on top is a drawing of a figure. I haven't decided on a title yet. I don't want anything too obvious or didactic. Any suggestions are welcome.

Bonus points if you know who the figure is and what he/she is doing!

Orientation events... again!

2006-01-23T15:17:00.000-05:00

One of the nice things about being in a study abroad program for an academic year as opposed to a semester is that I get to participate in all of the orientation events twice! In addition to some nights of free pizza, I decided to go on the trip to Todi and Titignano. Todi is a town in the hills of Umbria, about two hours north of Rome. The views there are spectacular. Titignano is a small village near Todi in which a beautiful castle stands. In this castle, we were treated to an 8 course meal that included the best ever onion pizza (and other pizza appetizers), bruschettas, risotto, pasta, a green vegetable medley, fresh cheeses, fruit, salad, tiramisu, biscotti and, of course, wine. O and wild boar, goat, and chicken (for the meat eaters). Apparently a typical Italian countryside meal. Yum.

One week later, I walked off the meal during Professor Jan Gadeyne's "Wall Walk," a twelve mile walk around the Aurelian walls that surround center city Rome and date back to the third century. Portions were destroyed and rebuilt throughout Rome's history. I included a picture of a portion of the wall with a huge bust of Alexander the Great (identifiable by the iconic flip of his hair).

Natale in Roma!

2006-01-02T06:32:00.000-05:00

Christmas in Rome was amazing. We went to the Vatican for the unvelining of their life size Nativity scene. There were several groups that sang including the Vatican choir (which was excellent) and, more comically, a group of young children who actually lipsynced.

Later that evening, we went to midnight mass at the Basilica near Piazza Venezia. In there Nativity Scene is a baby Jesus that is known as a miracle baby. All year, people write letters to him, and he is displayed in a glass case surrounded by the letters. They only take him out on Christmas Eve and Christmas day.

On Christmas day, we ate omelettes, opened presents in my apartment, and then went over to Michael's, where we watched the claymation classic, Rudolph, projected so it was like our own personal movie showing.

Buon Natale!

Barcelona!

2005-12-22T06:40:00.000-05:00

Hola!

Jamie and I took a short trip to Barcelona! The city is beautiful-- an incredible contrast of old and new, and very design oriented. We stuffed ourselves with cafe con leche and croissants in the mornings, saw as many things as possible, and then gorged on tapas and sangria at night. Two of our favorite things were La Catedral de Barcelona and the Zoo. The Catherdral is huge, and has an enclosed garden which presently has a large nativity scene set up in it. The zoo was also huge-- we spent almost six hours there! It was amazing to be able to get to close to so many different types of animals. Unfortunately, as soon as I began to get the hang of the Catalan and speaking with a Castillan accent, it was time to return to Rome. I'm already thinking about going back!

Buon Natale!

2005-12-22T06:30:00.000-05:00

It's Christmas season in Rome! Jamie is visiting me for the holidays. We went to the Vatican on the 18th to see the Nativity scene there, but, this being Italy, it wasn't completed yet! We're going back tomorrow, when hopefully, it will be done.

They did have a Christmas tree up though, and we went into St. Peter's, and climbed to the top. There's also a pic of Jamie in front of the Trevi fountain one night.

December in Rome

2005-12-09T12:16:00.000-05:00

It's officially Natale (Christmas) season in Rome. Yesterday was a national holiday, and it's traditional for Italians to decorate their Christmas trees that afternoon. The streets are decorated, but unfortunately, it's been raining non-stop for the past couple of days, so I haven't yet taken any pictures. Here are a couple of me from the past week, and in the previous two posts are collages I've been making. Once again, I've had time to think, to play with ideas, and it's time to buy paper and make some prints!

Still more collaging...

2005-12-09T12:09:00.000-05:00

More collaging...

2005-12-09T11:57:00.000-05:00

Prints in Progress

2005-11-22T15:43:00.000-05:00

I'm still printing!

I've printed the disjointed female again. The paper is very thin and dyed with tea. Unfortunately, in the picture, dark marks from the wall that are not on the paper show, so it's not an entirely accurate representation of the print at this stage.

I'm also reworking the parachute and plane imagery, seeing how different color combinations affect the mood and reading of the print. I plan to put a figure in this one as well, but a less defined one, perhaps emphasizing a couple of body parts and merely suggesting the rest of the body... not entirely sure how it will work yet. It may be collaged on rather than printed directly on this matrix. We'll see...

And, I've also created this pattern with a woodcut. I'm experimenting with printing. I plan on "stretching" this thin fabric over a round or elliptical shape to evoke stained glass, and then subtly painting over it to play with the light.

That's all for now. Happy Thanksgiving!

Sunday Morning...

2005-11-20T09:38:00.000-05:00

I'm still hard at work, anticipating my 15 credit review at the end of the semester, although I've begun several new projects this week, so much of it is prepatory work (cutting, gluing, and dying paper, doing the first layer of a print, etc).

I've finished the butterfly swimmer collage, and I'd like to make more work like this-- breaking from the rectangle, kind of sculptural, tactile, etc.

I'm also still working on the disjointed piece, although I've decided to put it away for a week or so before I do anything else to it. I've included pix of both the front side and the reverse, because I may like the reverse better. I might start printing on that side now. But for now, it just needs to sit.

Thanksgiving is this week-- we have off on Thursday because we're an American school. The grads are celebrating together at Michael's apartment. I'm in charge of a veggie entree and veggie stuffing-- and I'm thinking of making a butternut squash coconut curry that I saw a recipe for as well. I hope everyone enjoys the holiday!

Villa Lante and Viterbo

2005-11-13T08:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I took a day trip the Villa Lante in Bagnania and to the town of Viterbo.

The Villa Lante is home to Renaissance gardens, and it was so nice to get out of the city for a day to enjoy "the most lovely place of physical beauty of nature in all Italy..." It's filled with fountains, small waterfalls, trees, and flowers. It really is beautiful.

Viterbo is a medieval town that rivaled Rome during the 13th century. Indeed, it used to be the geographical center of the Catholic Church, and served as the pope's residence for several generations. It now feels a bit like a ghost town, but you can still see its palaces, fountains and medieval churches and it's all within an intact set of medieval walls.

still collaging...

2005-11-10T08:54:00.000-05:00

I'm still collaging, but now with the intention that they will result in finished works. Right now, this butterfly swimmer with butterflies is still in progress. Bonus points if you know why the butterflies are yellow.

A week of contemplation and collaging

2005-11-08T14:40:00.000-05:00

I spent the last week at a standstill in my work. Instead of finishing the big prints, or starting new ones, I've been thinking, collaging in my journal, and reading. Sometimes it's difficult to convince myself that not producing is not the same as not doing anything... The thinking has been good though, and now I feel ready to make some more prints.

Halloween in Rome

2005-11-01T12:23:00.000-05:00

Halloween's not a very big deal here; I saw about five children dressed up, three as witches and two with those Scream masks-- really the only costumes to be found in Italy. Apparently, as more Americans relocate here, it's becoming a bigger holiday, but right now, there are no haunted houses, trick-or-treating, or crazy parades to be found.

But, I did go to a party, although I didn't dress up. It was a potluck, and who was bringing what wasn't super coordinated, so there were about six salads and no entrees... Thank goodness I brought homemade apple crumble with panna cotta gelato to balance all of the healthy greens!

This pic from the party is of me, and two other grads-- Dennis and Marco. (Dennis is dressed as a hipster.)

Fish Bowl

2005-10-30T12:18:00.000-05:00

It's been a beautiful weekend in Rome. Sunny and crisp-- perfect autumn weather.

Right now, I'm trying to work out some ideas through collaging. This is the first one. I found the paper in Vertecchi. The fish and fish/plan are reduction wood cuts. The fish bowl is simply cut and pasted on with methocelluose and there is painting on top.

I'm thinking of doing a repeating wallpaper pattern using the fish and fish/plane images...

Bad hair day from my past

2005-10-30T12:13:00.000-05:00

Pete sent me this pic from one morning back in SF. It made me laugh, so I thought I'd share...

More pictures from Florence

2005-10-26T06:26:00.000-04:00

I took over 160 pics while I was in Florence last weekend, so I thought I might as well post 4 more.

Vestito Da Sposa

2005-10-26T03:08:00.000-04:00

I spent the better part of Monday working on this poster for a film screening here at TU Rome. The film is called "Il Vestito da Sposa" (The Wedding Dress). The premise is that a woman is shopping for a wedding ress, and then shortly after is violently gang raped. Her relationship with her fiance falls apart, and then one of the rapists (none of whom she was unable to identify) begins to court her.

Until very recently, rape was not even considered a serious crime in Italy. It was only a crime against a woman's "honor." although the law has changed, much of that attitude still prevails here. The film deals with the personal and political implications and repercussions of sexual violence.

It's a hard film, but I think it's an important one...

More work...

2005-10-23T14:48:00.000-04:00

A disjointed woman woodblock and collage (in progress) and... woodblock and monoprint of Venus? Eve? Self-portrait? Not sure...

Florence

2005-10-23T12:37:00.000-04:00

It's fall break so I decided to take a break from Rome for a couple of days and go to Firenze.

It's amazing there, and I'll have to go back. It's impossible to see everything in two days.

But... I saw as much as I possibly could-- the David at La Accademia, all of the awesome artwork at the Uffizi, a contemporary show called Donna/Donne, la Santa Maria Novella, Il Duomo, and a walk up all the hills to Michelangelo Piazza for an amazing view.

I can't wait to go back, but for now it's back to work!

Works in Progress

2005-10-18T13:49:00.000-04:00

I spent most of today carving and painting a block. Domani I print!

Working on "A Piece"

2005-10-17T13:20:00.000-04:00

(or "Piece Out")... I know... I'm corny.

The pictures are of me in my studio and the prints (or pieces) I'm working on.

All of the talk about my "piece" is in reference to David Sedaris' anecdotal story in "Me Talk Pretty One Day" in which he goes to art school. "This was the art world I'd been dreaming of, where God-given talent was considered an unfair advantage and a cold-blooded stare merited more praise than the ability to render human flesh." He and his fellow art students all talk about what "pieces" their working on... if you haven't, read it. It's funny. I promise.

This past weekend I found Il Teatro Palladium (so far south it was not on three of my four maps-- so finding it really was a victory, especially for a directionally challenged person as myself). The trek was worth it though, as they were showing William Kentridge animations-- Journey to the Moon (also featured at the Venice Biennale this Year) and 8 Drawings Projected, a series of his animations beginning in the late 80's and ending in 2003 about apartheid in South Africa. They were achingly beautiful, inspiring, and accompanied by live music-- a string quartet and a pianist.

This week is fall break at Temple Rome. there are no classes, but I'm trying to use the time to get lots of work done (as you can see). I may take a train to Florence on Wednesday though... I suppose that's it for now.

Arrivederci!

12.10.2005

2005-10-12T15:03:00.000-04:00

(That's October 12th, 2005). They write the date: day/month/year on this side of the Atlantic, and when in Rome...

Not much going on today besides school, the studio, pizza and gelato. It's already mid semester, so I'm just trying to make as much work as possible. I know that time in grad school goes by quickly. I think that time in grad school in Rome goes by even faster.

I'm psyched to have moved into my new apartment near the Trevi Fountain. I've posted some pics of me near the fountain.

Ciao!

Greetings from Rome!!!

2005-09-27T04:03:00.000-04:00

As soon as I get my domain settled the rest of the way I will be posting here quite frequently.