In a Black and White World

February 26, 2005

As a child you're frequently asked your favorite color. Yet, I cannot think of one instance as an adult when someone asked me that question. My answer would be the same anyhow. . .

Gray.

It's one of only four colors that I can think of that also indicates a world view.

Color Shifts

February 24, 2005

On this day in history my mother bought her first digital camera. We stood on the bank of the Boise River as I explained the various settings on the dial at the top. I took a few test images:

. . . and then I handed the camera over to Mom. With the trusty Photo Phazer in hand I shot yet another short film of the flowing river. When we got home I downloaded the various images from the two cameras only to realize that neither of them were at all accurate in depicting the true color of the river that bright afternoon. Mom's camera had pushed the blue of the water to a peculiar intensity and the Photo Phazer had, quite naturally, robbed the current of color. 

Colored Bands

February 23, 2005

OK everyone, let's test your chain-restaurant interior design scheme recall. In what super-fun eating establishment would you be likely to find this dramatic use of red and white stripes?*

For a person who doesn't profess to love working with color when creating artwork, I do seem to have a fixation with capturing it on film. Contrast, as well as vibrancy, tend to catch my eye— like this doorway to a pump house on the Puget Sound. The textural difference and graphic quality of the colored bands is emphasized by cropping in and denying any sort of larger contextual information.

Only years later (January 2008, to be exact) would this pump house image filter back into my consciousness. I stood on the steps of the ostentatious Il Vittoriano in Rome and realized that I really should have flipped that negative.

Hint: Think "flair."

Death Tones

February 2, 2005

Have you ever tried photocopying your body? It's fascinating to see how the technology, combined with the flattening of your form against a pane of glass, transforms your figure. You realize that your physicality is really just another type of meat, this pulpy mass that's eternally subject to gravity— it's only allowed autonomous form through the mystery of biological complexity and spiritual will.

A classmate in college made a book from images of his body. He methodically placed a piece of himself on his small color copier at home to gain a life-size self portrait. The images were startlingly repugnant in the way that the skin grew more and more pale as it came fully into contact with the pane of glass. Body hair was squished and angled unnaturally. The natural pinks and peaches of flesh had bled away into cold aquatic tones, and the form of the body seemed flattened by an oppressive black behind it. The whole project reeked of death.*

When I filmed myself brushing my teeth under florescent light I wasn't thinking about self portraiture, but I was thinking about the action of snarling; of jutting out the teeth and glaring forward, as you do when brushing (or, as I do when brushing). Strange how this act also forces a foaming at the mouth, and it made me wonder if a correlation could be drawn between hygiene and aggression. It may seem like a bit of a stretch, but much of the language we apply to cleaning ourselves and our environments employs the lexicon of warfare. Even the Almighty once chose to wash away the scourge of humanity. Perhaps it is implicit in new beginnings that they are born out of violent endings.

*For the definitive exploration of this sort of subject matter I refer you to the work of Jenny Saville who was picked up as one of Saatchi's Young British Artists in the early 1990's. She continues to produce a mesmerizing body of painted work that manages to both rob, and simultaneously endow, the human form with life.

Ruby Red

February 1, 2005

There's little truth to the color in this image. That table top is bright red. The printer itself more gray than blue. I always appreciated how my sterile-toned electronics looked on that table, and I believe that it somehow influenced the color scheme in our bathroom at that house. The main portion of the bath was painted grey, while the little toilet room was a blistering tomato red. When the door between these two spaces was left open that tiny side room emitted this lively ruby glow that never failed to elevate the spirits. 

* * * * *

Painting a room gray is a luxury you don't have in the Pacific Northwest. Gray is the most common state of each day, and you don't want it encroaching on the miniscule amount of space you can actually control.

Experiments and Quagmires

At the outset of August I began working on a series of smaller works in order to rattle my studio routine a bit. Drawing and painting is rife with tricks for rejuvenating the artist's perception: turn the canvas upside down, shift your scale, crop out the best bits, work with your other hand, experiment with new materials, etc. The usefulness or necessity of such tricks really depends on what sort of creative personality you possess. Those that draw/paint for profit are reportedly less likely to tweak the stylistic strengths that allow them to eat each week. For others, who approach their artwork as a means of exploration, these experiments can supply their work with new paths of evolution. 

The larger dimensions that I'd grown accustomed to working on wasn't an arbitrary expression of artistic whim, it was a well calculated set of measurements designed to help, not hinder, my pocketbook. Mat board comes in a standard size (32" x 40"). Once you demand even a 1/4" beyond that your framing costs jump exponentially. So that was the first consideration. Subordinate to the mat size came the need to make as large a drawing as possible in order to ask a higher price for the piece. The amount of work to create any drawing is dependent on countless factors; most of which the art patron will not readily understand or appreciate. Therefore, the artist has to figure out the best way to recoup the time and labor for these "factors" in other ways. While few art buyers will admit to harboring a tendency to correlate the size of the work with its price tag there is no doubt in my mind that this happens all the time. And while I want to get wildly offended at the idea of 2D art being priced like carpeting, I recognize that my outrage will only result in a brief glow of self-righteousness that will do nothing to remedy this social perception.

So what of the smaller works? The verdict is still out whether or not they are proving as inspiring or challenging as I'd hoped. I am appreciating the opportunity to drop a different color cast into the compositions, and the organic edge appeals to me, but I feel that I may slip into a realm of simplicity and gimmickry that would undermine the power of the larger works were they to be shown together. There's also a blatantly contemporary feel to them, and along with that comes some of the vapidity that our contemporary time condones. That's a conceptual quagmire for me as it both supports, and yet subtly undermines, my commitment to utter artistic sincerity these past three years. At this point the whole endeavor feels like that awkward stage in a relationship where you feel you should jump ship but still hope that if you just persevere a bit longer you'll regain equilibrium.

The Week

GERALD FIGAL ON FLICKR

I ran across this image the other night on Flickr. It was part of a collection of pictures taken in the Edo-Tokyo museum by Gerald Figal and his images served as a catalyst for me to consider my own fascination with the conceptual implications of the miniature in contemporary art. More to come on this topic at a later date.

THE WORKS OF CLAUDIA ANGELMAIER IN APERTURE MAGAZINE

The lastest issue of Aperture features an article about the reproductive artworks of German photographer Claudia Angelmaier. Her meticulously composed collections of open books turned to the same reproduction of a famous art work succeed on a number of levels: they comment on the fallibility of mechanical reproduction, critique the experience of educating through second-hand experience, continue the post-modern preoccupation with originality born of mimicry, and manage to reference the sparse spirituality of Modernist abstraction. While the addition of the replicated artworks contributes a greater conceptual depth to her work, the photographic compositions that feature only obsessive compositions of white space and colored lines are no less beautiful for their minimalism.

THE FIRST UNVEILING OF SMALL WILD THINGS (SWT)

Last year's artistic collaboration was laid out in its entirety for me this week on the floor of the new Disjecta exhibition space. This sparked an intriguing dialogue about: the longevity of hierarchical relationships, color aversion, classifying artistic "style," breaking and obeying imperatives, the totalitarian grid, and the spiritual implications of reproduction. 

BIG SPACESHIP PROFILE ON LYNDA.COM

With two gaping holes left in my skull from the extraction of pesky wisdom teeth my energy level hit negative numbers and I sought interludes of distraction from the pain at lynda.com. This website is an absolutely fantastic software tutorial site that, for a monthly fee, walks you step-by-step through the intricacies of most major software programs available today. It has been indispensable to me as a graphic design student. Until yesterday, I had limited my viewing to movies related to programs that were stumping me, and not bothered to delve into the interviews and exposes of well regarded companies/individuals. 

Big Spaceship has been a company reverently referred to since my first day in PNCA's graphic design certificate program. The major player in the field of new media, or interactive media, or integrated design, or whatever moniker of the moment that connotes a mixture of web, film, graphic design, and information design. There's no doubting that they are very, very, good at what they do and, while it's light on specifics, the lynda.com expose of Big Spaceship does give a general sense of the culture and structure of the company.

Sadly, without a subscription you can only watch the three introductory videos, which are heavy on the fluff, but you can follow links to some of Big Spaceship's more notable projects and see what all the fuss is about.

Remnants

I've been away for a few days. Much of it I was sitting; although there was a bicycle ride. I rode through the deserted streets of a trailer park and watched the setting sun turn scrubby desert hillsides purple. Most of the trailers had a color cast akin to the concrete they rested on. One single-wide had been lovingly painted a rich lavender color with plum trim. It was a bright bit of punctuation at the end of a lifeless street. My ride was brief, but it took my mind away from thoughts of ghosts and mortality— it made a few minutes of my visit simple.

* * * * * 

At other times, when all the sitting got to be too much for me, I would wander about my grandparents' trailer home and take pictures. Only the most precious of objects are allowed a life now: pictures of family long passed and snapshots of those that still live on. Plaques, certificates, toys, saints and paintings. These are the items that serve as touchstones for memory. They clutter dusty shelves and whisper tales to me that are more fabrications of my imagination than fact. 

* * * * *

I begin to generate a different perception of time the longer I stay and this, in turn, compels me to take more photographs. It is the only control over time that I can wield— this shutter, these moments that I compose, they will protect me from loss. I will print them out and pin them to the wall like a collection of butterflies. My negligent memory will be thwarted by these specimens of perception and I will not grow old. 

Bus

As an adult on a school bus my thoughts mimic the landscape through the window. Short bursts of memory align with the racing autumn colors. Yesterday I was a quiet student and today I’m the quiet teacher.

The rain pelts on the metal roof of the bus. It is especially audible under the rooftop emergency exit. I take a few pictures of colors. Perhaps someday they will remind me of remembering.