May 30, 2005 (Monday) - The Suspension of Time in Painting
(This is a guest essay from Aaron M. Brown, a professor of painting at Emporia State University in Kansas. An exhibit of his work in San Diego, "Museology", just ended, but you can see more of his work on his web site, HERE.)

When dealing with representational (particularly photo-based) painting, the question is often posed, "why paint, when you have the photograph?" This question assumes that there is no fundamental difference between the painted image and the photographic image, or that the painter has failed to provide one. I used to get this question a lot in grad school. It infuriated me, partly because it felt like a glib sort of attack, and partly because I didn't know how to answer the question. Merely citing the love of the painting process didn't seem adequate, because the viewer doesn't necessarily care about such things. Why do I value a painting as a representational object in the first place?

I'm still not certain of the answer, but I have a theory, which has to do with the suspension of time. The element of time is always present in art, more overtly so in a representational image. Different mediums hold and convey the idea of time in different ways. In film and video, visual events are played out over time, and the viewer reconstructs the events into a meaningful assemblage according to the narrative, and/or other culturally inherited factors. The experience is entirely dependent on exposition, whether the narrative is abstract, rational or absurd. That's why we are usually expected to sit through entire videos, and time may become our enemy.

In photography, time is arrested, or frozen--there is the sense of events occurring before and after the photograph was taken, so that the image seems to exist relative to a linear timeline. Any studio manipulation of the image merely extends the timeline, adding more fact or fiction after the original fact. As an object, the photograph has no physical quality that will break the chain of its own veracity.

A painting, on the other hand, seems to exist in a timeless state, or a state of suspension. Any good painting has this quality, regardless of the historical baggage attached to its creation. A painting is a numinous object. I believe this is part of the reason why we continue to value painting, despite continued attempts to assassinate the medium, or torque it out of existence. But where does this untimely quality come from?

I think the answer may lie in the surface of the painting, and the manner in which a painting is constructed. The "traditional" method of painterly construction is an elaboration of childhood intuition: the act of applying pigment to a surface. The painted image is built layer upon layer; all paintings share this common materiality. The layers of pigment are stratified, literally rising above the picture plane, forming a subtle (to the human eye) topographical map. In essence, therefore, a painting is three-dimensional.

This has the effect of enabling the viewer to read a two dimensional image along the z-axis (the axis of depth, as when viewing a three dimensional object). Think of the well known anaology of a painting as a window; the viewer can see into the surface of a painting. When the viewer's gaze is directed inward, as into a painting, all sense of time is forgotten, and a suspension occurs. When time is suspended, it loses its literal meaning, and takes on numinous value.

By contrast, when I look at a photograph, my inward-bound vision is deflected, due to the absolute flatness of the photographic surface. I can scan a photograph and apprehend the image in time, but I can't travel into it--my gaze skips off like a stone on water. I'm convinced that this is why I value photography, but not the photograph--when I look at a photograph as an object, particularly an art object, I'm instantly bored and alienated. There's no surface to sink my eyes into.

The surface of a painting is therefore all-important, and must be experienced in the flesh, not merely in reproduction. The surface depth of a painting may seem minimal (and hence superficial) to lovers of the "real", but consider the surface of the earth. In truth, the metaphysical expansiveness of a painting is a direct result of its physicality.
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		May 27, 2005 (Friday) - de Young update I did my plein air painting at the Tea Garden yesterday (next door to the de Young) and noticed new fences all along Tea Garden Drive, preventing pedestrians from getting within a block of the construction site. In fact, the band-shell and the entire music concourse area is now off limits. I was able to get a glimpse of the James Turrell installation, by peeking over the fence, from inside the Japanese Tea Garden. It's between the Tea Garden and the so-called "porch" (the cafe terrace, under the cantilevered section.) There's another photo of this piece on the de Young web site construction slide show (slide #8 of 9.) It's a difficult piece to shoot and neither photo will be very helpful unless you already know what the work is supposed to look like. Basically, think of a big oval shaft rising up out of the ground. Right now, the interior of this shaft is white and the exterior is orange and black, and it looks like they're pushing dirt up around it. A few blocks away, over in the Avenues, the de Young Art Center will be closing in June. Giant "For Lease" signs went up a few weeks ago. Even though it's small, this would be a great space for another visual arts organization. When the de Young moved in here, they built these ingenious wall panels that move around on overhead tracks so that it's easy to configure all kinds of different rooms and exhibition spaces. Image at upper left is - "The Story of the Bodhisattva", 2004 chlorophyll print, resin 32.75" x 11.75" by Binh Danh (b.1977) There's an article about this new FAMSF acquisition in the current issue of "Fine Arts." Some excerpts: An interview with Dr. Daniell Cornell Overwhelmed by the beauty and originality of this new addition to the Fine Arts Museums' collections, Fine Arts spoke with Dr. Daniell Cornell, Director of Contemporary Art Projects and Curator of American Art, about the artist and the piece. Fine Arts: Who is Binh Danh? Daniell Cornell: Binh Danh was born in the southern region of Vietnam in 1977. In 1980, he and his family came to the United States as part of the "boat people" exodus. He was brought up in San Jose in a traditional Vietnamese household that maintained many Buddhist rituals, especially those around death and ancestor worship. Danh earned his BFA in Photography and Asian-American Studies at San Jose State in 2002 and recently completed his MFA in Studio Art at Stanford. FA: What exactly is the medium of the piece? Did Danh invent it? Dr. Cornell: Danh has invented a method of printing photographs onto the surface of leaves, using their own natural process of photosynthesis. He digitally renders existing photographs into negatives; then he sandwiches these negatives and still-living leaves between glass. The "sandwich" is exposed to sunlight for periods from a week to several months. Danh calls the resulting work a "chlorophyll print," which he preserves by casting in a solid block of resin. [With this piece, Danh started with a banana leaf, and the ultimate work of art is almost three feet tall. Ed.] Binh Danh's artworks are hybrid objects, drawing on the languages of photography, natural science, history, and documentation. FA: Where will you put The Story of the Bodhisattva? Dr. Cornell: In Gallery 18 of the new de Young. I want to introduce museum visitors to the human body in contemporary art through a variety of mediums. There will be this piece, which traverses the boundaries of two- and three-dimensional mediums; lens-based photographs such as that by Adi Nes; video and installation works; sculpture; and paintings. I relate all these works to the Fine Arts Museums' existing collections: it's not a question of "who's hot, who's not, who's in the Biennial now" but of demonstrating a continuum. photo and text taken from "Fine Arts" magazine, Spring/Summer 2005 (sent to members) permanent link to this entry
More chlorophyll prints by Binh Danh

May 26, 2005 (Thursday) - Other Artist Interviews
OK, that's all the interviews I've got, for now. More are on the way, sooner or later (maybe a week or three.) Meanwhile, if you like reading artist interviews, check out Chris' interview at Zeke's Gallery, with Canadian artist Jean-François Lacombe. It's interesting to "listen in" as a gallery director advises an artist on how to sell art:

You can focus their thinking saying, "OK. This is really pretty, this is what it's worth now, and given the state of the career, given the state of the stuff Jean-François Lacombe has made, this is what I can see in the future." And for somebody solely focused on money, that's one way to focus their thinking. For somebody who is solely focused on aesthetics, and doesn't think about the money aspect; "No, once I get an object, I dust it off everyday, I look at it, I gaze at it fondly, it makes my life happy" and so on. That's another way of thinking.
from Zeke's Gallery

and if that's not enough for you, checkout these sites for artist interviews galore:

Vincent Romaniello's ROMANBLOG - video interviews with artists (Quicktime downloads)
( Anthony DeMelas, Tremain Smith, Charlotte Yudis, etc)

Index Magazine (celebrity artist interviews, mixed in with writers, photographers, musicians, etc.)
(Sylvie Fleury, Elizabeth Peyton, Takashi Murakami, etc)

di Rosa Preserve artist interviews with Northern CA artists:
(William T. Wiley, Viola Frey, Roy De Forest, etc)

A Time of Visions - interviews with Native american artists
(includes Harry Fonseca and Gerald McMaster)

Comic Art & Graffix Gallery "Interviews with the Pros"
(Frank Frazetta, Mark Gruenwald, Kelly Jones, etc)

Walker Art Center (audio file downloads)
(Marcel Duchamp, Stuart Davis, Claes Oldenburg, et al)

Art Beat Street - "Kitty Kitty interviews the artists" (graphic artists & illustrators)
(Mark Ryden, Keri Smith, Shag, etc)

and there's more.....

ArtQuotes.net

Artshow.com

ArtTrust.net

Artist Moms

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May 25, 2005 (Wednesday) - Painters and photography (and Marilyn Minter)
I finally found another painter to visit the Marilyn Minter show with me (it's up at SFMOMA through July 24th.) You may remember that back on April 8th, I was bothered by my first reaction to this work. I've been back a few times to see it again, and think about it, but it was great to talk it over with Pam Heyda. Not only is she a painter, but she's married to a photographer (John Wall) and has thought a bit about the issues of representation in photography and painting.

(Image at left is "Crisco", 2003, 37" x 40")

Marilyn Minter's work is photo-realistic, yet, due to their large size, they seem painterly in person. I'm not as interested in discussing her subject matter (cultural representations of femininity) as her choices in materials and technique. Her decision to exhibit her photographs beside her paintings, and giving them almost equal weight, is what disturbed me on that first visit. I wanted to figure out why I was reacting that way.

Pam & I walked through the other galleries on our way up to the 5th floor, where the Minter show is way in the back. They've recently moved the William Kentridge exhibit, "Tide Tables" up to a room right next to (and opening into) the Minter exhibit, which has created a weird, and I'm assuming unintended, sound track to the Minter images. The emotional impact (a sweet sadness and longing) of the Kentridge video certainly affected my perceptions of these images of a grossly exaggerated fashion shoot. I'm guessing that someone who had never seen the Kentridge video and approached it by walking through the Minter exhibit first, would have a different reaction.

A: It's pretty amazing technique, don't you think? It's not airbrushed. It's enamel on metal. Great job.

P: Yeah, this one (image at left: "Pit", 2004, 24" x 24") is really beautiful. I guess because it's abstracted, it takes things to a different realm. What is it?

A: It's called "Pit" but I've never been too sure what body part it represents.

P: That line looks like a suture line...In this one ("Sock", 2004-5, 30" x 24") she's showing us a sock being pulled down and the pressure marks on the leg.. it's something you wouldn't normally see, and isn't really considered beautiful...

A: They're just normal human aspects.

P: ...but she's made them into something beautiful.

A: It's something we don't normally see in art, but it's actually something we see all the time in real life.

P: You see it so much, it's commonplace. I'd never even think of painting this. It's really funny. The modeling and texture of that sock, with the threads hanging off. It's so real. So... why paint it, when you have the photograph?

A: If you're asking from a theoretical point of view, I could come up with plenty of answers to that question. But if you're referring to these particular paintings and photographs, well that's my conundrum. The photographs and paintings seem to say the same thing, so I'm curious... After she had these photographs, which she obviously took a lot of time and trouble to set up...

P: And these days you can manipulate a photograph in any way. A lot of artists would use painting so that they can have whatever they want in the image, but now that you can manipulate things on computers...

A: Yeah, you can manipulate images on computers to get color and form the way you want it, but you can't get that quality of paint from a computer.

P: Right, you can't. I wonder how she works, if she projects the image or..??

A: If we knew, how would it influence your feelings about the painting?

P: I don't know if it would, I guess I'm just curious about technique.

A: Didn't you tell me downstairs that you were bothered by Robert Bechtle's use of projection?

P: Oh. Yeah. Well, it's a short-cut. It's easier to produce a painting faster, with less problems with things like composition and... I was thinking if I projected a photograph on the wall and everything was in the photograph as I wanted it, then I wouldn't have messed around with certain things, but then I wouldn't have the little mysteries that come up. I mean, I know he has things that he manipulates and things appear that he didn't plan, but it seems so manufactured to me.

A: Well, in terms of shortcuts, and speeding up the process, what about using pre-stretched canvas or pre-mixed paints, that you buy in tubes, as opposed to grinding your own?

P: Well I make a distinction between the materials and the process.

A: It's a matter of what you consider part of the process.

P: I guess so. I think Bechtle's paintings are beautiful, and these are beautiful, too. Whether they're projected or not, they're beautifully painted, and obviously they weren't done in the blink of an eye - they're difficult pieces. Especially this one with the shoe (image at left:"Strut", 2004-5, 96" x 60".) But you know, there's part of me that thinks about all the time I spend slaving away trying to paint something that's difficult to paint, trying to figure out how to render it... I think about learning how to draw, and all of the hours and hours drawing the human body, and having it come out all wrong and having the perspective off and crumpling it up and throwing it away and doing that over and over again until I get it right and part of me feels like... not that all art should be difficult to make, but I feel cheated. I feel bad saying that because I respect the work, but... and I know it's necessary for certain things - it'd be impossible to have a model sit there with their foot like this, with the beads of water on it, for the length of time it would take to paint something like this.

A: Well if you considered the sketching of the image to be part of the process, you could sketch from a photograph of different size from the canvas. I hesitate to speak for Robert Bechtel, but if you consider the actual painting, the using of paint with a brush to be the main process, and not whatever led to the pencil lines on canvas... then you wouldn't consider it cheating. You might, however, consider using an airbrush to be cheating.

P: Yeah... I can see that.

A: In terms of decisions about the composition, and how much of the image to include and how much to crop out, and so on, those decisions are all made before you get to the point of projection. Take this one (image above left:"Strut", 2004-5, 96" x 60") with the skewed horizon - that was obviously a deliberate decision that Minter made before this image was transferred to the painting surface. And this is obviously a painting, too. Some photorealists paint so that you can't see any brush strokes, but this is very painterly.

P: For me, painting is... I don't think I could do projection, or work from a photograph... although I have sometimes used photographs, because I needed to figure things out. When you're by yourself in the studio, you can't look at the back of your leg very well. But when I think about these pearls and reflections and things like that, I think about the time I've spent with my watercolors and just looking at reflections and studying things in real life, and the knowlege that comes from studying things so closely. If I did it from a photograph or projection, I don't think I would understand the subject as well. Because it's going from 2-D to 2-D, instead of from 3-D to 2-D. So, it's not so much in the results, but somewhere in me, in my own process, something would be lost.

A: Oh... now I get it.

P: I think about sitting and painting a wildflower. I could take one of John's photos and do a painting of it, but I'd lose something there. ... There's something really gross about this painting ("Bullet", 2004, 48" x 72".) It was on the post card. It was sitting on my table for a long time and I finally had to turn it over, I couldn't look at it any more, because of those lips and the saliva... it's gross, but it's visually exciting.

A: Let's go look at Marilyn Minter's photographs... (after several minutes of silent looking) ... so do these photographs accomplish the same thing as her paintings?

P: I don't think so. There's a certain beauty that's lost. Maybe it's because I'm a painter and I prefer painting.

A: They're definitely flatter, aren't they?

P: Yeah, maybe that's it.

(Then we walked back out to the paintings.)

P: So the question remains, if she can do what she wants with her photographs, why bother making the paintings?

A: You were talking before about going from 2-D to 2-D, but there's something about paint, at least when it's well done, that makes it more than 2 dimensions. It doesn't fit the definition of 3 dimensions, but it's more than 2 dimensions. The paintings are extra-dimensional.

P: Yeah... and there's more mystery in the paintings.

A: I agree, but I still don't understand it.

P: If this image (image at left: "Treasure Trail", 2003, 72" x 48") was a photograph... somehow, it's become something else, as a painting, in a way that it wouldn't as a photograph.

A: If this image was a photograph, you'd look at and say, OK, it's the edge of underwear and an umbilicus, with water. I know what that is. Yeah, there's a weird abstract quality to the cropped image, but what else is there to say?

P: Well, as a photograph, you can still get into all the symbolism...

A: Yep, that's true... so why is the painting so much more mysterious? Because it was made with more intentionality?

P: Right, she had choices here about leaving things out and putting things in.

A: Even unconscious choices, as she drew her brush (or hands) down the surface, she can put more or less weight on the brush to leave a subtle or more obvious line. And... take things like, the fact that you can see the threads in the weave of the underwear. If it was a photograph, you couldn't be sure if the photographer intended to show the fabric weave, or if it was an accident of the fact that the fabric was in the same focal length as the skin. But with the painting, you know that the artist has gone to a lot of trouble to paint those lines, and has intended that you see them.

P: But a photographer can easily go in and blur or sharpen parts of the image...

A: True, with so many of them using Photoshop to do just that, it's harder to say that any given photograph is not intentional ... so we come back, again, to the question.. What is it about Painting, that's different from Photography? Why does this painting seem to have more to it, than those photographs in the other room? Are we just grasping for straws because we're painters?

P: I don't know, it's hard to be that objective. But we know that the artist touched every little teeny bit of this painting. She had her hands in it. And she put something of herself in each and every part of this painting. When you paint, you put something into it. I'm not sure if that happens with photography. Is the photographer manipulating every little part of that photo? Maybe, but it doesn't look like it.

A: In this case, we have an artist who made the photographs, with all the intention you can put into photographs, and yet she still went ahead and made these very labor-intensive paintings. So she must believe, too, that there's something of intrinsic value in the painting of this image, something that's not in her photo of this image... but what is it?

P: It could be the desire for the challenge... demonstrating her skill... she's got it down - you can't cut it up. And maybe it's just that she sees the beauty in it and wants to make it her own. Have her hand in it. I've often felt that way about things - I want to make it mine and I can make it mine by painting it and painting every little detail and recreating it for myself.

A: Yeah, I understand what you're saying. And when I've experienced that, then the painting really becomes about the process, for the painter. You understand something in a different way after you've spent hours painting it. It's important to me... but why should a non-artist viewer care?

P: They might not care. Or they might value the accomplishment, the technique, and prefer the painting for that reason.

A: We're both married to photographers, and we know that photography is not as push-a-button easy as many people think it is, but don't you still secretly value painting over photography?

P: Hell, yes! If I loved photography that much, I'd be out shooting pictures instead of painting them. I love painting.

A: Yeah, me too. And I'm still trying to figure out why.

Images are from SFMOMA's exhibit brochure, Fredericks Freiser Gallery, and artnet.
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May 24, 2005 (Tuesday) - E-interview with Bernie Rauch
I've known Bernie for a few years, and I had some photos (of him in his studio) just sitting there on my hard drive, so when he emailed me to let me know that his new and improved website was ready for prime time, I convinced him to help me come up with another entry for this blog, by answering questions via email.

A large portion of Bernie's paintings are "political" (his description.) I was thinking about this last night while watching John Sayle's movie, "Matewan." I first learned about the worker/union struggles of the early twentieth century from Woody Guthrie songs like "1913 Massacre", and the paintings of Ben Shahn (example above - "Miner's Funeral" from the book, "America Expressionism" by Bram Dijkstra, ISBN 0-8109-4231-3.) I certainly never learned any of it in school. And John Sayles wrote, in his book, "Thinking In Pictures," that his research into the facts about the Matewan massacre led almost nowhere. He had to go to West Virginia and talk to the residents of Matewan himself. But since his movie was released (in 1987) many more people know a little more about that part of our history. It's a reminder of the enduring nature, and value, of this kind of art.

Anyway, back to Bernie. He's a two-finger typist, so his answers are pretty short. But I can tell you from personal observation that it's a good thing he's so skinny because he has one of the smallest studios I've ever seen, it's full of very big canvases, and he actually works in there! Imagine working in an elevator shaft. With all windows on one wall. It's only a small exaggeration to say that's what Bernie's studio is like. He uses an ingenious system of ropes and pulleys to hoist the canvases up out of the way when he's not working on them. He sleeps on a tiny loft above his computer desk. He uses acrylics, with airbrush and hair brush, to paint photo-based realistic images. That much is easy to see in reproduction. What's harder to get, without seeing his paintings in person, is his explorations into the the nature of "focus." He's been experimenting with, and refining a technique using layers of gel to push parts of the image in and out of focus. Sometimes this creates a second (or third) image overlaying the first. (Example below:"When the Power of Love is overcome by the Love of Power", 48" x 60", acrylics on canvas, ©2005 below. There are actually three levels of images here.)

A: How long have you been painting?

B: I started painting because my grandfather's enthusiasm for his newly found hobby, post retirement, rubbed off on me around age 9 or 10.

A: What about your subject matter?

B: I began attempting to express my indignation over one or another of my perceptions of the reality confronting us during those tumultuous vietnam war years when I was in art school... so around 1965 or '66.

A: What's the purpose of painting and making art?

B: The purpose of making art, for me, is to share in the divine adventure of evolution... the ever growing and expanding evolution of meaning... of beauty... of existence on the spiritual, creative plateau.

A: Do you feel like your painting is integrated with the rest of your life?

B: I do feel my painting is integrated with my life, however my artistic life has more often than not overpowered and subordinated the rest of my life.

A: How do you deal with such a small studio?

B: My tiny studio (370sq. ft.) has enabled me to keep my "overhead down", but it does feel confining at times. I do need to get storage space soon.

A: How has being a member of Project Artaud helped or hindered your progress as an artist?

B: Living and working at Project Artaud has been a real blessing over the 31 years I've been a spaceholder. Living among kindred spirits has been stimulating and nurturing to my creative endeavors. I know well why artists of all stripes are desperate to join this type of community.

A: Do you feel like your art work has been influenced by your residence in San Francisco?

B: Yes,San Francisco has been my primary base of operations. This is where my main creative and cultural stimulation resides. The liberal political atmosphere of San Fran has influenced my art... informing and encouraging my forays into rebellious self expression... often
offering peer acceptance altho very little monetary encouragement, so far.

A: What's your current or next art project?

B: Currently, I am updating some of my paintings from the '90's to the standard of the personal interest I find in more recent work, by using a technique for building up "in focus" parts of paintings so they have a 3D relief feeling.

A: Are you showing any where now or in the near future?

B: I'm not showing my work anywhere right now, but who knows what's waiting just around the next bend...

A: Anything else you want people to know about you?

B: I'd just like to invite folks to check out my website. I would appreciate any comments, pro or con, they might want to send my way: www.burnrock.net ..... brburnrock@yahoo.com

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May 23, 2005 (Monday) - Artists in trouble, Hilla Rebay, and Webzine 2005
Thanks to Zeke's Gallery for that very nice piece about last week's blogging (all listed and linked below.) Actually, it might seem counter-intuitive, but I've been painting more, and more easily, and that seems to make everything else work better too.

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Regarding last Thursday's entry about the Hotel des Arts being sued over a mural by Tim Gaskin, I received this email from photographer David Sumner (who also happens to be my husband - he emails me during the day, since I refuse to answer the phone when I'm painting):

"I was just reading today’s entry about the hotel being sued by Louis Vuitton. Well, seeing that picture of the room he painted, he may be in for more trouble. That image of Madonna is a near exact reproduction of a well known Herb Ritts photograph. Also, Madonna exercises very strict control over the use of her likeness and has been known to take people to court for this kind of thing."

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For artists with real problems, check out Roberta and Libby's blog for the latest about the Steven Kurtz case. They sum it up succinctly:

"The whole government harrassment of this artist is an example of hitting a fly with a sledgehammer. Shameful."

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The New York Times ran a story on Friday about a show a the Guggenheim of work by Hilla Rebay. Those in San Francisco who don't want to travel to NY, or just want to see what all the fuss is about can visit the Adler Gallery. They have a good selection of her work.

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Via LaughingSquid's blog:

"Webzine 2005 will take place over the weekend of September 24 and 25, 2005 at the Swedish American Hall in San Francisco, California. We believe the Swedish American is perfect for Webzine as it has multiple rooms and a grand ballroom that can accomodate over 300 people."

They're also looking for speakers & panelists:

" Are you changing the world or just blogging about the world changing? Do you have your finger on the pulse in Iran or China or Mozambique? Do you produce a radio show from your laptop while in your underwear at the cafe? Have you created some amazing widget that has empowered 6 year olds to talk about what’s in mommy’s sock drawer? Have you been suspended from school for what you said about your teacher in your blog? Well, damn, you are interesting! Get on out to San Francisco, kid!"

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May 20, 2005 (Friday) - Photos of Hopper's scenes

Those recent photos of by Michael David Murphy of sites of Robert Bechtel scenes reminded me of one of my favorite books: Gail Levin's "Hopper's Places." She trekked all over the world (in the revised edition) tracking down the locations of his paintings. Some things have obviously changed or even disappeared over the years, but many of the buildings were still intact. It's fascinating to notice how he changed some things to improve the composition. I also noticed in some cases that the painting's point of view is higher than the one in the photo. Edward Hopper was a very tall man, much taller (I'm guessing) than Ms. Levin, who took the photos. This difference is more apparent in the straightforward cityscapes. I'm only 5"3" myself, and on plenty of occasions I've had friends haul me and my step-ladder around town so that I can get a better perspective on a scene. It's amazing how even twelve inches in height can make such a difference in your view of the world.

In the case of the lighthouse painting at left, "Captain Upton's House" (1927), the opposite is true - the painting is at a lower point of view than the photograph. the difference is subtle, but it makes for a much more dynamic and impressive image.

Here's an interesting experiment you might want to try. Draw or paint something from life - doesn't matter if it's a still life in your studio or a view across a valley. At some point, when you're part-way through working on this piece, take a photo of the scene, with your head in exactly the same place as when you were drawing. Later, after you finish the piece, compare your image to the photographic image. Resist the urge to "correct" your piece. Notice the differences. Especially if you're a skillful renderer, it can be shocking to see how different the images are. The big payoff comes when you do this many times in different situations. You'll start to notice your prejudices. A lot of people tend to slightly inflate the parts of the image that hold more importance to them. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing depends on what kind of art you're making.

Images from "Hopper's Places" by Gail Levin, 1998, University of California Press, ISBN 0-520-21676-8

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May 19, 2005 (Thursday) - notes and followups

Thank you to Tyler Green for that great mention yesterday, and for the super-cool Bechtel scene updates by Michael David Murphy - I added them to my Bechtel page.

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A note from NY sculptor, Peter Reginato, in response to yesterday's story about Richard Serra's Cor-Ten steel sculptures:

Anna - In the early 70s I made a few pieces out of Cor-Ten. I became a little suspicious about its permanence after I had buried a few plates in a potted rubber tree plant :-) After about 2-3 years I had pulled the plates out [samples from US Steel] and I thought they looked way too rusty —given what the Hype was at the time... SO I phoned US Steel and basically what they told me was, “It never stops rusting. It just will last 3-4 times longer than a piece of Hot Rolled or Cold Rolled Steel.” I stopped using it after that. It didn’t really matter because most of the sculpture that had been built with it was getting a bad rap because of all the rust staining the Corporate Plazas [ya that’s a dig.] THE only material that is Bullet Proof is a high grade Stainless Steel END OF STORY... - Peter

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Remember the Hotel des Arts? I mentioned it Tuesday, because Josh Feldman was showing work there. The hotel is being sued by Louis Vuitton, over a mural by SF pop artist Tim Gaskin. From their press release:

Gaskin, whose artwork frequently juxtaposes celebrity icons with the iconography of contemporary advertising, included images of Madonna on the walls of his room, superimposed on patterns and logos from luxury product manufacturer Louis Vuitton.

"Removing the LV trademark from the walls of the hotel would necessitate destroying an original piece of fine art, and that is not something we are even going to consider," said the Hotel des Arts' Richard Singer. John Doffing, whose START SOMA art gallery curates the “Painted Rooms” exhibitions in the Hotel des Arts, echoes these sentiments: "We are taking a stand here, to prevent the chilling effect that such corporate intimidation could have on emerging artists and their creative freedom. They are suggesting criminal prosecution and/or potential financial ruin to an emerging artist for painting a picture on a wall! Tim's fine art work, whether Louis Vuitton likes it or not, is part of an artistic tradition of appropriation, commentary, and fair use that includes artists like Marcel Duchamp, Salvador Dali, Jasper Johns, Jeff Koons, and of course, Andy Warhol. Not to mention the incontrovertible applicability of the First Amendment." The artist agreed: "I am just happy that I am not fighting this alone," Gaskin observed. "I want to spend my time creating new fine art, and not have to worry about corporate thought police telling me what I can or cannot paint."

Duchamp, Dali, Johns, and Warhol were a long time ago and Jeff Koons has been sued. I'm frankly amazed that contemporary pop artists like Tim Gaskin and Ron English don't expect to get sued on a regular basis. Maybe someone needs to come up with a kind of copyright-infringement-lawsuit insurance for pop artists.

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The Hackett-Freedman Gallery is showing a small selection of Artist's books through May 24th. The books contain artwork by Manuel Neri, Richard Diebenkorn, Frank Lobdell, Gustavo Ramos Rivera, and Richard Ryan. Some books are opened under plexi cases and others are mounted and framed by the sheet. I was most impressed with the etchings by Richard Ryan, who has a show of paintings opening June 2nd at the Hackett-Freedman.

Image: Gustavo Ramos Rivera and Juvenal Acosta,  Garlic Gun Danger 7 3/4" x 7 1/2" mixed media on paper book, 200

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May 18, 2005 (Wednesday) - Richard Serra gives SF Another Chance

A few days ago I went out to UCSF's Mission Bay campus to get a look at the new Richard Serra work, called "Ballast." It was installed on March 22, 2005. From a distance, which is how I first saw them, the pair of steel plates seemed thin and light, almost like garden stakes sticking up out of the green hill in front of me. But then my brain registered the buildings next to them, and the true scale of the sculpture ... and I felt a few minutes of heart-pounding awe. The Cor-Ten steel plates are 50 feet tall, 14 feet wide, five and a half inches thick and they each weigh 80 tons. They face each other at 133 feet apart. They're a little off kilter - slightly twisted and slightly leaning. Just enough to make you feel a little nervous when you're within 80 to 100 feet of them. Your rational mind says that of course they're well anchored. But your animal mind says, "Can I run fast enough if that thing starts to fall?" (What happens to these during the next big earthquake?)

Still, I felt a strong urge to touch them. The surface of the plates is patterned with lots of mysterious (and very subtle) circles and lines in a mixture of rusty orange and dark, dusty violet. Richard Serra told Mark Simmons in a Coagula interview:

"Cor-Ten is an oxidizing steel and it turns orange and then after about eight years, it turns dark brown, amber, and then holds its color. Doesn't oxidize any further. So it goes through a period of oxidization. There's a lot of rust, then after it stops. And then it discontinues its colorization. It almost turns brown-black and then it stays that way forever. So it's a material that if you know what the end product is going to be you might have to live through its kind of colorization as it turns but once it turns then it seals itself and it becomes a permanent material. That's why I use it. If you don't use Cor-Ten, it'll rust away. It'll decay."

No touching, for now - the pieces are still surrounded by chain-link construction barriers. The area will be opened in a public ceremony in January 2006.

Richard Serra (and his brother, attorney Tony Serra) grew up in San Francisco's Sunset District and attended Lincoln High School (on a hill with a view of the ocean.) In the early 1990s, SF art patron, John Rosekrans offered to commission a major work by Serra for the site in front of the Legion of Honor (another hill overlooking the entrance to the bay.) The Legion was reopening after years of earthquake retrofitting and expansion. The plan was for a 49 foot tall grouping of rusted plates which local critics said resembled a paper grocery bag. When the SF Chronicle published photos of the proposed installation in 1994, the public went nuts.

Serra wasn't too surprised by the controversy, as his work often generates this kind of reaction. But when he found out that San Francisco's public art regulations would have allowed the Recreation and Parks Department to make any changes in the piece it deemed necessary for public safety or to accommodate new laws, he withdrew from the project. Who could blame him after the earlier experience with his "Tilted Arc" in New York? In 1989, after years of acrimonious legal fights with the General Services Administration, "Tilted Arc" was cut up and taken to the scrap metal yard.

I'm assuming that the installation of "Ballast" in Mission Bay, since it wasn't on government property, allowed Serra to use his non-negotiable contract that precludes any changes to the sculpture until 25 years after his death.

There are some really great photos of the steel plates, taken by Michael David Murphy on the day they were installed. Click on thumb at left - taken from his photoblog, "WhileSeated".

Also:

Link to a Conversation with Richard Serra by Jonathan Peyser, from Sculpture Magazine (Oct.'02)
Link to an Interview with Richard Serra by Mark Simmons, from Coagula Magazine

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May 17, 2005 (Tuesday) - With digital artist, Josh Feldman, at SFMOMA
Josh Feldman answered my call for artists to visit art shows with me and comment on the work we see. Josh is a visual artist who uses digital tools to compose and print his work. He has work in “Luminescence," opening at the Maryland Hall for Creative Arts on May 20th. We decided to check out the Jeremy Blake "Winchester" video installation and Gary Hill's "Image, Body, Text" video works.

We met in the SFMOMA cafe. (I recognized him from the photo, at right, taken by Alan Bamberger on the SF Art Openings site) I hooked up my digital voice recorder, with Josh's assistance, before heading upstairs to see the exhibits. Josh had not seen either of these shows before, but I'd seen them both a couple of times.

A: When was the last time you were here at SFMOMA?

J: About two or three months ago - the "Winchester" piece definitely wasn't here the last time I visited.

A: Have you seen any of Jeremy Blake's other work?

J: I might have - I don't remember. I have, of course, been to the Winchester Mystery House, which I love...

A: You have? I've never been there.

J: Yeah, many times - because I grew up here. It's really great. Unlike a lot of amusement parks where everything is fake, and you kind of get the feeling that everything is fake? There was this real woman who really built this house and she was really crazy, and it comes out - you feel it. It feels different. Even as a kid, there was something really creepy and "off" about it, but in a cool way.

(We entered the first room of the Jeremy Blake exhibit and were looking at three large colorful digital prints, which looked like collages of video stills and digital abstract designs.)

A: Now these pictures that we're looking at it - how do they compare to the work that you do?

J: From a process standpoint, very similar, in that I use the same process that uses red, green, and blue lasers to expose photo paper. In terms of how he creates the images themselves, I could take a few guesses but it looks quite different. He uses a lot of photographic sources and I use none. But they're beautiful pieces. I have a little pet peeve, with people who do really large prints yet the resolution isn't there for them... but these look pretty good.

A: I've seen the videos, and to me, these prints are like souvenirs of the video. Like movie posters.

J: I wonder what the symbolism of the "Century 21" is? (A photo fragment of the exterior of the theater appears in Blake's imagery.) It's a hip discount clothing store in New York. I don't know that it has to do with this... it's a theater chain as well, but when I hear "Century 21" I think of the store in New York.

A: Well, it shows up in the video again and again, so it must have some significance. Maybe when you see the video it'll make sense to you, since you've been to the Mystery House.

J: One thing that really works for me, with these... I've been noticing, because of the style of work I do, that a lot of people who do "digital art", and that's art that gets made physical in two dimensions, as opposed to being on the web or presented via video or a more dynamic format, is that a lot of it is just really, really bad. There are a very few people doing very good stuff and a lot of people doing very bad stuff. So it's nice to see someone who's doing really nice work...

A: So, these work for you, as strictly two-dimensional pieces?

J: Well, the way I'm looking at them first, is as aesthetic pieces of art: design, composition, colors. I think what I need to do is go look at the rest of the work (the videos) and then come back and look more for symbology, and the meaning of the work.

We entered the theater, where three screens showed different, but related, images. The images shifted constantly, combining photographs of the Winchester House, guns, old movie stills (Westerns), the Century movie theaters, colored laser-like light beams and morphing fractal-type designs. Eerie, haunted-house music played on the sound system. On this, my third viewing, I finally noticed that there seemed to be a different "theme" for each screen. It seemed like one screen focused on the house (and history), one screen focused on the guns (and ghosts) and one screen focused on the myth (or movies.) The videos are 18 minutes, 21 minutes and 12 minutes (loops), and it's not very easy to tell when one of them is restarting, since many elements resurface multiple times. Plus, you can't really watch all of the screens at the same time, because the seating pushes the viewer up close to one screen, forcing you to look sideways to see the other screens (or move, to sit in front of another screen for another loop.)

Back out in the gallery with the three big prints:

A: At first, I thought each one of these prints must be linked to each of the three screens in there, but now, I'm not so sure...

J: Yeah, I think that, although there's obviously themes, like the left screen being the most Winchester-related, the middle screen seems more about the house, and the right screen is about the 1960's chain of theaters... there was still plenty of imagery in the right-hand screen that dealt with Winchester House themes... but it's about her. Basically what I got out of it was that he (the artist) is trying to visualize her madness. And there's a pop culture connection which... it's hard to say what was in his mind... the Western and gun imagery was pretty obvious. You could say that maybe one of the reasons she went mad was dealing with the psychic baggage of knowing that most of her money came from the manufacture of guns that were used to kill Native Americans all across the west. Another thing I liked about this work, is that the production values were pretty high. Certain pieces here remind me of some of Amy Franceschini's and Rex Ray's work. Amy Franceschini does graphic design and fine arts and Rex Ray does these beautiful paper constructions and digital pieces that look paper constructions. It's a certain illustrative style that I've always liked.

We moved on to the Gary Hill video exhibit, which filled several rooms, some with movie screens and some with groupings of TV monitors, most of it black and white.

A: This kind of work (B&W on TV monitors) used to look so modern, and now it looks so retro.

J: Right - it looks like it's from some French realist film from the 60s, Jean-Luc Godard, or something. ... Some of this type of work, this one being a perfect example (three monitors show the back of the film-maker's head, and each of his hands, as he sits at a desk, shuffling papers), falls into the category of, "What would happen if I do X?" and you do it, and then you end up with this thing that is just not all that interesting. I mean, great, it was an experiment, you tried it, here it is, but... does anyone really care about what you ended up with? Now, this other one (a long horizontal group of monitors show flickering images of the side of a man's body) is beautiful, because you take it further than just "What would happen if I tried X?"

A: There's a bigger piece, similar to this one, that goes a little further - it's in that room, to the right - do you want to see that next?

J: Yeah, but let me look in here first...

Josh went into a very small room with a strobe light and a film of a guy slamming himself against a wall and shouting in pain each time he did it. It gave me an instant headache, so I waited outside for Josh.

J: Luckily, I'm not an epileptic. It's an interesting idea... it's shocking, which can be interesting.

We went into the biggest room, holding Hill's "Suspension of Disbelief (for Marine)", 1991-92. The room was in low light but not dark, with a very long beam of TV monitors(B&W) mounted just above eye level. They flickered off and on, in running patterns, the way old-fashioned roadside signs made up of lots of little light bulbs can create the illusion of movement. Each individual image was visible for only a fraction of a second. At first I thought that it was all images of a nude woman, but eventually I realized that that it was images of an entwined couple. There was no specific sound track for this piece, but because the room, really more like a cavern, was very open, echos of the sounds from the other rooms filtered in: muffled thuds and moans from the strobe piece, mixed with music from somewhere else, faint voices, train sounds, and mechanical sounds, all floating together.

A: I like the way the movement of the images across the monitors mimics the sensation of stroking (or of the back and forth eye movements of glancing.)

J: Right... technically, you could say it's a novelty, the multiple screens and showing pieces on each one, but it goes beyond that. I like the cold, sterile feeling of the physical aspects of the work, contrasted with the very human, representative aspects that are actually on the screen. In spite of being encased in these steel and plastic cubes, the work is actually very organic - it feels like a topological map, or a scientific investigation of skin, or something like that. It feels like there's two people in bed at night, and there's trains and cars going by, and constant flashing of light... it's very kinetic in that way, which I like.

A: Yeah, that was my impression when I first saw this, then I went over and read the wall tag, which described it as the film-maker shooting his girlfriend, and I thought, hmmm... that's not the impression I got...

J: Right - it seems like two people to me, exactly. The way it's constructed, there are two people intermingled... he's cutting single frames between a male and female form... maybe it's all about sex. It is beautiful.

Next we moved to a long dark room, almost a hall, with a line-up of seventeen men, in working clothes (day laborers), against one of the long walls. They are life sized, and they are almost, but not quite still. They are all staring straight ahead, at you, the viewer.

J: Have you been to the Redwood room in the Clift Hotel? It was redesigned a few years ago by Philippe Starck. The portraits on the wall are actually plasma screens and if you stare at them long enough, you realize that they move. But the context is a traditionally framed portrait of someone - they're pretty subtle. This is interesting, just because it's different from a gallery context. The people are purposely life-sized, and naturally you feel uncomfortable with these people staring back at you, and yet it feels like there's a wall, that they could be standing on a distant galaxy somewhere and you could be communicating with them via some advanced communications system.

We walked into the next projection room, where several floor-to-ceiling screens completely filled one wall. The sound of a train moving along the tracks, was synchronized with more flashing images that moved from left to right along the wall. There were multiple loops, and the content of the images seemed random, although to be fair, we didn't stay in the room too long. I hadn't spent too much time there on my previous visits either, because the flashing lights bothered me.

J: One of the interesting things about the "Winchester" piece was that I couldn't tell if they were looping or not. It felt like it was a randomized program where individual snippets were put together and you could always get new combinations the longer you watched.

A: I think it's interesting to notice the aesthetic difference between these two guys (Jeremy Blake and Gary Hill.) Not just the color versus black and white, but Jeremy Blake has very easy, lush transitions...

J: Yes, there's a very calm aspect to his work but the tension and the unease is created through the imagery, through the ideas. And, you're right - these are more literal. Through editing, and composition, and sound... pure shock value, like strobes... it's about disconnectedness, discontinuity.

A: There's a hardness, an edge, to every piece of Hill's work... except maybe the one with the working guys standing in place.

J: I always wondered, what do collectors actually do with video? Some people actually set it up and they show it, but it's not the kind of thing you're just going to have running in the house...

A: Yeah, right. It's such a relief when these loops come to an end and the blank screen comes up.

J: Maybe the train sound implies you're on a train watching life go by and just getting little snippets of pictures...

A: Hmmm, maybe. I was thinking the train sound was reminiscent of the sound of old movie reels playing.

J: I wonder if anyone has ever done a survey to try to determine how many (art) video pieces have been created and in what percentage of them, does the artist appear naked in the video? ...50%? ...70%?

We moved out to the next room, where there were three short films playing sequentially on a TV monitor, and a couple of pipes laying on the floor with a video projection from one pipe into the other. The viewer could look between the gap in the pipes and see a pair of hands massaging a speaker in the opening of the other pipe.

J: This piece (the pipes) reminds me of a piece I saw once at the Hosfelt Gallery... I don't remember the artist, but there were bird cages, with propane gas flames and electrical apparatus... they discovered this phenomena on submarines: if you pass an electrical signal through a gas flame, the gas flame becomes a speaker. So the artist had these recordings of Hitler's speeches, that were playing through the electrical contacts. And whenever the flame passed between the electrical contacts, you would hear the speech. It would disappear whenever the flame would flick away for a second and then come back on... It was exploiting a phenomena, and this is playing with that... as if he was trying to say, "When I touch the speaker, you can visualize sound."

We walked from SFMOMA over to the Metreon to grab a bite to eat and I asked Josh about himself and his art.

J: I grew up in the Bay Area, and then went to school on the East Coast and came back, because I love it here so much. The style of work I'm doing now, I've actually been working on for ten years. It's a style that I developed when I was still in school. You know, like a lot of artists, I experimented with many things, but I kept coming back to this kind of abstract, textural, complex, organic style of imagery. I kept working on it and perfecting it and originally all the work I did was online. That's what was really interesting to me, using motion, using a lot of the things you can do through a web browser, digitally. I got some decent notoriety from it... Wired Magazine gave me an award for some of the pieces I did in 1993, and I was in a New York Times article. Then two years ago I started to do physical pieces. I was using the same ideas, but it just seemed like the digital medium was a little bit exhausted? This was something I hadn't tried and I wanted to see what I could do with it. So, the hanging-in-galleries part is new to me.

I asked him about how he made a living when he was giving his work away on the web. He said he had worked in commercial art and design, started a tech company, was bought out, then cashed out, and was using that money to support his current pursuit as a full-time artist.

J: ... so, I don't have to sell a ton of work, and I'll still be fine, which is good, because it's hard to make a living when you're starting off as a fine artist. But you know, the commercial world was where I thought a lot of the interesting stuff was going on. And still, if I was to name my favorite artists, at least half of them would be graphic designers, because they've done some of the most beautiful, amazing work that I've seen.

A: Where in San Francisco can I see your work?

J: At the Hotel des Arts. Right now it's hanging in the hall, on the fourth floor. There's another possible show coming up soon, but it's not set, yet.

A: I like your use of colors, as least what I can see of your work on your web site... (image below is "Fifi's in the Army Now 1" by Josh Feldman, from his web site.)

J: Thanks - I end up using a lot of colors that I probably wouldn't choose, if I were to choose them. there are pieces of mine that end up with pink and turquoise... colors that you might consider ugly colors, but with the process that I use, I end up with some happy accidents. I try layering things in a certain way that, because of the transparency and the way that I set it up, suddenly some interesting things begin to happen. I like the fact that it pushes me beyond where I would normally go, my comfort zone, color-wise. The colors are really rich with this process, using the photo paper.

A: So, you make your art, sitting in front of a computer... this doesn't bother you?

J: No, I mean, my hands aren't too happy after twelve years of constant computer use, but I've gotten to the point now where I know how to deal with that... and some of these pieces don't actually take that long to make. The quickest that some of then end up being finished is, in six or seven hours. But then other ones take days, and that's more because I'm not happy with it yet and I'll keep going back and tweaking and changing, etc. So, I'm really not spending every day sitting in front of the computer just making work. I have a painter friend that does these really beautiful landscapes, but they're blurred. She uses digital processes to create the image that she then uses to paint. It takes her a month to carefully paint them, because she's so perfect about everything. That's never the way I am. I mean, I could work on a piece forever, but why? I end up doing work in spurts. I have a week where I'll be busy and create a lot of stuff, and then a month where I don't do anything, and that works for me.
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May 16, 2005 (Monday) - Interview with artist, Heather Robinson
As Heather led me up to her second-floor studio we passed a projector stand in the hall. Heather said it needed repairs and she was anxious to get it working again. I was somewhat familiar with her work (collage and acrylic glazing - image at right, from her web site) and was surprised to hear that she was using projection now. When we got to the studio, she immediately started showing me how the projector figured into her process:

H: I project textile patterns on to tracing paper... (she opened her flat file and started pulling out large sheets of paper, covered with pencil line patterns.)

A: Where do you get the patterns from?

H: I collect antique textile design books, and sometimes I use Dover Books. This is my favorite one (she held up The Library of Design Classic Textile Designs, by M. Dupont-Auberville, 1989 Portland House, New York, NY, ISBN #0-517-69329-1) I use it a lot. It's from the 19th century. So, what I do is get the design on the trace, then transfer it to the painting with white transfer paper. (She showed me a couple of newer works in progress.)

A: Yes, I see. These are a bit bigger than you've worked before, aren't they?

H: Yes, I'd like to work even bigger, but this is the biggest size these panels come in (Ampersand cradled boards.) So, I think I'm going to order some custom panels from Ampersand.

A: What are these print-like designs in the background of these pieces?

H: That's all Indian textile blocks (hand carved wooden blocks used for printing on fabric.) I print with them on paper and then adhere it to the surface with an acrylic medium. (She opened the flat file again to show me dozens of sheets of paper that she had printed with these blocks.) I get the blocks at a place in Berkeley. They're getting more expensive lately. I think most people use them for decoration - I don't know of anybody else who's using them for printing. They're actually used up, and not good for textile use any more, which is why they're for sale. But they're good enough for my purposes.

A: Are these two pieces gold leaf?

H: Yes, those are still experiments. It's a really delicate surface, and I'm having a hard time working with it. They're really hard to photograph, too. Almost anything leaves a mark on the surface. I've tried layers of varnish but... I really want them to be more perfect than they are now. I'm not sure where I'm going with them. I like the gold, and I like the austerity of these pieces, but... I need to practice gilding more, but it's expensive.

A: Do you have a show that you're getting these ready for?

H: No, they've been here in my studio for awhile now and it's just time to get them out. Although, there's the June show at Hall of Flowers, which isn't too far away (June 4th & 5th.)

A: Yeah, that is coming up, isn't it? I keep a standing appointment at Almac to get my slides done each month, which helps keep me on track with finishing my work.

H: Yeah, I do that too, with Bob Hsiang - it makes me stop and think, "is it time to push this piece out into the world?" I haven't shown much lately. I've been holing myself up and just painting, maybe taking it in a new direction.

A: Have you seen that documentary movie about Ray Johnson, called "How to Draw A Bunny?"

H: No, but I've heard of it.

A: This guy made thousands and thousands of works of art, and I don't know if he ever showed, in his lifetime. Everybody knew him... not the general public, but other artists. After he died, there was a big retrospective of his work. They went into his studio, where he also lived... he was a collage artist too, which is what makes me think of him now, here in your studio. Anyway, he had a work table, and he had an inflatable mattress next to it, that he slept on. And the rest of his place was entirely filled with boxes and shelves of boxes of his work.

H: Oh, jeeze... well, I don't want to get to that point.

A: Oh, I don't really think you're in danger of that - you seem like a pretty good promoter, to me. I've seen your name come up at CityArt and with Johnny Davis' shows, and there's your web site...

H: I don't feel like it. I mean, I try... I'm in a June show with CityArt, and I do have some things with Johnny Davis, but I feel like I should do more.

A: What do you see in your work, after this project?

H: I'm still totally into this, and the gold stuff is part of it. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of craft, especially with the gilding. There have always been decorative aspects to my work, that I don't think get taken seriously, but I'm interested in exploring it more. This kind of work is very satisfying - I can go back and forth... with the underpainting I can be loose and creative and slop paint around, whereas the painting on top is like a different work almost. The outline of an image is very meditative, I mean, I'm tracing the pattern three times. First, when I transfer it to the trace; then I trace over that to transfer it to the painting; then I paint over the traced line. Sometimes it seems like a tedious process, but at the same time, I really feel like by the time I'm finally putting it on the paintings, I have a sense of what the pattern's about. It's very interesting to be able to study it that closely. Something that seems very regular when first seeing the original drawing is not. There are a lot of irregularities, little changes that get made, even before I touch it. sometimes I change the patterns to make them more regular. There's a part of me that wants to do that fiddly, fine work. Before I did fine art, I used to do needlework, and pysanky (Ukranian Easter Eggs.) Here's an example of an egg that I did, using a henna pattern. (Couldn't get a good photo of it.)

A: I've heard that Ukranian designs hold a lot of symbolic meaning - do any of your paintings or collages use these symbolic patterns?

H: No, not really. I pick and choose stuff from different cultures. I use a lot of henna patterns. The idea of ornamenting the body... the female form has historically been reduced to an ornament and that's what I'm doing here... it's very flat, 2 dimensional, interacting with the patterns.

A: How has being in San Francisco affected your work, if at all?

H: I moved here 5 years ago from Austin, but I mostly grew up in Louisiana. San Francisco is the first place where it actually occurred to me that I could be an artist. In Austin, I studied architecture. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist, but my family, my Dad especially... he was an engineer and was pretty focused on me getting a career. So I settled on being an architect because it was a way I could be creative and still be a professional. I got all the way into grad school and after about three semesters... I still love architecture, and design, and I'm glad there are people doing that, but it's not for me. I just kind of fell into web design and after moving here I was able to freelance it. After the dot com crash, I started the collages. I had never let myself just pursue that kind of thing before, but once I didn't have a career anymore, it was like, "Well, why not?"

A: Is your studio big enough for you? (It's a rectangular room, about 20' x 12', with east-facing windows overlooking the street.)

H: It's starting to not be. I need to work on my shelves, so that they hold more stuff. I need more storage. This flat file is great - I got it off of Craigslist. I have a huge paper collection - you want to see it? (She started opening drawers and showing me a dizzying array of papers from all over the world.) I started out doing collage with very little painting - now I feel like I'm doing mostly painting with just a little collage. I had gotten to the point where I really knew how to do collage, and now I'm moving on to other things...I want my painting to become a little looser ... and this gold is new to me.. it's presenting some technical problems, that I still need to figure out. I'm wondering, do the technical problems overwhelm the desire to do the work? The gold stuff - is it going to be worth it to overcome the problems? I need to think about it. I think I need to go somewhere different with it. That's the challenge.

See more of Heather Robinson's work at her site: www.heatherrobinson.com
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May 15, 2005 (Sunday) - Judith Baca's art threatened

From Mark Vallen's blog, "Art For A Change":

California Public Art Under Attack: Right-wing activists from the organization, Save Our State (SOS), have called for the removal of a public monument called Danzas Indigenas located in the Metrolink Station in Baldwin Park, California. ... What exactly has drawn the ire of these self-proclaimed guardians of the American way? Designed in 1993 for the MTA by famed Chicana artist Judith F. Baca, the monument bears several engraved statements upon it, one reads “It was better before they came”, and the other “This land was Mexican once, was Indian always - and is, and will be again.” SOS calls the monument "propaganda" from "radical organizations" who wish to "return the Southwestern US to Mexico." The organization’s website declares that California’s cities have been turned into "Third World cesspools as a result of a massive invasion of illegal aliens." SOS has threatened that if the "offensive passages" are not removed from Baca’s artwork before the American Independence weekend, they "will take additional steps to ensure that the passages are removed." That sounds like an open appeal for vandalism and property destruction to me.

More info, photos, and Judith Baca's response at the Social and Public Art Resource site.

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May 14, 2005 (Saturday) - More inspiring birds

(Note from a Sacramento reader):

Thanks so much for the reminders about how refreshing it is to get out and observe, and how it's about process, process, process.

Several years ago we were fascinated to see a blue heron hunting in the pond in front of the old de Young, but I had no idea they were nesting nearby.  (Where did I think he came from??)  I hope we'll be able to get down there before they leave!  I'd come tomorrow, but it's Second Saturday here -- when the Sacramento studios and galleries are open-- and I have to try and sell something....

(The 20th Street Gallery is a VERY hot destination spot for Second Saturday, and a warm, friendly place. The owners, Jim and Joanie, are active in the arts community and are very supportive of both new and established artists.)

In the meantime, I did this sketch early one Tuesday morning when I saw a little dove asleep in the tree outside my kitchen window.

Have a great weekend.
--Ramona

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May 13, 2005 (Friday) - Blue skies, blue water, and big blue birds
Yesterday I was painting at Stow Lake in Golden Gate Park. I sat on a bench under a curly willow tree, right across from the island where the Great Blue Herons are nesting. Lots of people shared my bench and stopped to talk to me, but for once, very few of them commented on my painting. Everyone wanted to talk about the birds.

A group of school kids came by, led by a kind of bird-docent named Nancy De Stefanis. She pointed out the nests and once the kids all had their binoculars trained on the trees, she came over to see what I was doing and said, "I'm going to take watercolor classes this summer." I told her I was sure she'd enjoy it, especially if she kept in mind that the goal was not a finished work of art, but the process. That painting watercolors outdoors sharpens your powers of observation. She got a big smile on her face and said, "Well, I'll bet that's right! Hey kids, did you hear that? This artist said that painting outdoors sharpens your powers of observation! Come see what she's done here."

One lady struggled up with her cane, sat down, asked me where the nests were, and stayed for about an hour, sharing her binoculars whenever something really interesting was happening. After a while she sighed and said, "Well that's it. I'm cured. I could walk a mile now." That's how I felt, too.

Photo at upper right by Jim Sullivan from the SF Nature site. Image at upper left is my watercolor of the boathouse on Sloat Lake.

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May 12, 2005 (Thursday) - Posterity
An Edward Hopper painting, "Chair Car" sold for $14 million at Christie's sale of postwar and contemporary art (per the New York Times.) It's a beauty - and it looks so contemporary... or is it just that I'm so familiar with his images that, like close friends and family members, they never seem to age?

Watercolor still life artist Carolyn Brady passed away last week. "The cause was complications after heart surgery, said her dealer in New York, Nancy Hoffman."(NYT obit.) Her work was in the Seavest Collection and there's quite a bit of it on her dealer's web site.

Locally, visual/conceptual artist Tom Fowler died suddenly, a few days ago. From Therese F. Martin, Program Manager at ArtSpan: "I recall the way he had the thousands of children who passed through our program hold their hands in the air and cheer, "I am a great artist!" His work was beautiful, funny, and conceptual ... but not the head-scratching, "hmm?" kind of conceptual, more of the burst-out-laughing-seconds-after-you-see-it kind of conceptual. Unlike Carolyn Brady's paintings, Tom Fowler's work just didn't translate to the web all that well. He's got a pretty good web site, but you had to have been there.

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May 11, 2005 (Wednesday) - Priorities
Something had to go. It's taken me a couple of weeks or so to come to this decision, but I finally decided to drop out of a group show I was going to be in. I had 4 shows coming up this summer/fall: two of them are gallery shows and two of them are more do-it-yourself ventures (an open studio and an art fair.) The latter two are incredibly labor-intensive. It's hard to believe, after so many years of beating the bushes to find someplace to show my work, that now I could be be faced with too many opportunities, but that's what's happening.

What's more important? Painting, showing, or selling? For me, there's no question that if I could only pick one, it'd be painting. And when too much showing and selling cut into the painting time, some readjustments are in order.

Thank god for dealers and galleries. The good ones deserve every penny of their percentage.

If I won the lottery, or didn't need to worry about the rent for whatever reason, I'd almost be willing to pay someone to take the paintings away when I finished them. Having them leave the studio is like shedding thoughts and stories that, once realized, are no longer needed.

(image is from the easel, a work in progress: "Gordo's")

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May 10, 2005 (Tuesday) - The Tao of Symbols
I've been re-reading "The Tao of Symbols" lately. It's a little paperback by James N. Powell, which I've marked up, thumbed, and bookmarked with sticky notes. It's a good reminder of the history and reach of images, as well as their limits. I like to pack as much meaning as possible into a painting, although I'm fully aware that it's like throwing a message in a bottle into the ocean. This section is one of the ones I've marked to look at again and again (image at left from Chapter 1, "The Labyrinth"):

"In the line, 'sun rises in the east', we are given a picture of what actually takes place in nature. On the left we find the shining sun, on the right is the sun as seen through the branches of a tree, and in the middle we see the sun just above the horizon. ... In poetry as in science, the tendency to illumine as much reality as possible by means of the most elegant, concise expression prevails."

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May 9, 2005 (Monday) - Routine
Michael Kimmelman had a article in Sunday's NYT about Chris Ofili's daily routine of painting watercolor portraits as a warm up for his "real" painting. He said:

"The myth is that artists are somehow different. That they leap from one peak of inspiration to another. That they reject limits - that this is precisely what makes them artists. But of course that's not true. Most artists work as the rest of us do, incrementally, day by day, according to their own habits. That most art does not rise above the level of routine has nothing necessarily to do with the value of having a ritual.

Twyla Tharp wakes up every day at 5:30 and takes a cab to the gym. Chopin played Bach. Beethoven strolled around Vienna with a sketch pad first thing in the morning. Giorgio Morandi spent decades painting the same dusty bunch of small bottles, bowls and biscuit tins. Chuck Close paints and draws and makes prints of nearly identical dots or marks, which, depending on how they're arranged, turn into different faces. "Having a routine, knowing what to do," he has said, "gives me a sense of freedom and keeps me from going crazy. It's calming." He calls his method Zenlike, "like raking gravel in a monastery."
From Sunday NYT, 05-08-05

When I first read this I thought, "I don't know about that... I don't have much of a routine." But of course, I do (see above: morning cup of tea while I read email.) What I realized this morning, as I sat down to write this, is that my routines are almost invisible to me, simply because of their familiar and ordinary nature. It's the non-routine things that we tend to take note of.

Of course, if you look at any ordinary thing long enough, you begin to see the extraordinary. And seeing beyond the ordinary is routine for artists.
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May 6, 2005 (Friday) - Guy Diehl at the Apple Store
Last night I went to the Guy Diehl presentation at the Apple store in downtown SF. He paints intelligent, exacting, super-realist still life scenes in acrylic (image of one of his paintings at left is from the Hackett-Freedman site.)

He's rep'd by the Hackett-Freedman gallery and they were here to support him. Plus they set up a table with give-away postcards and show catalogs.

Diehl arrived with his lap-top and hooked it up to the computers at the speakers podium in the little in-store auditorium. (Comfy theater seating and nice big, backlit screen.) The Apple staff hooked him up with a wireless mike and slide changer. Sarah, the Apple store Theater Coordinator introduced him and said that this event was set up in conjunction with the SF Art Dealer's Association. About 60% of the audience was artists; the rest were collectors and Apple shoppers who were just wandering by.