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September 30, 2005 (Friday) Hazards of being short
By the time I got I got off the #1 California bus on Fillmore, there was river of people, heading uphill to the top of the jump. There were fake cable cars parked at the top and side streets, for VIP viewing. But the rest of us were jammed into the few feet between the buildings and the snow line. SFPD was trying for traffic control (cranky drivers were all over the neighborhood.) Lots of black-uniformed private security guys kept telling us to keep moving... how or where we were supposed to move, I don't know, because it was more cozy than an out-bound streetcar at Van Ness station on a Thursday afternoon. All I could see were the backs of the people between me and the snow line. I kept sticking my camera up in the air and shooting blind, but never in time to catch a skier. Eventually I gave up and went in search of art and cold drinks. Not a good day to find art (actually, I think it was the neighborhood.) Now that Hespe has moved, I'm not sure Cow Hollow has a real art gallery. I finally ended up at Mario's in North Beach, for those drinks.
Friday will be a better art day for sure - I have a few artist interviews lined up in the SOMA area. And later, I'll be going to SFMOMA. Reports next week. Meanwhile, have a nice weekend.
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Story about the event, with lots of (better) photos at SFGate |
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September 29, 2005 (Thursday) Snow in San Francisco
I have a doctor's appointment this morning, then I'm heading over to see the ski jump event on Fillmore Street. Yep, they dumped a bunch of snow on Fillmore Street (btwn Broadwway & Green) and somebody is going down it today (noon to 4pm)... catching air, with a view of Alcatraz. As long as I'm in the neighborhood, I'll see if I can find any art action on Union Street. If not, I'm heading over to North Beach. Will let you know what I find.
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September 28, 2005 (Wednesday) This 'n That
More about artists destroying their art (see yesterday's post):
From Libby Rosof: "I totally agree that people recognize that art is like a piece of a person. As someone who has thrown away gobs of old art work, it has taken years for me and Roberta to get enough distance to do that comfortably. Some things, even though they were not successful from the start, still lingered in our basements, storage lockers, our studio."
From Mark Barry: "I'm a tosser for sure. If it's not working or doesn't hold up after a few years, out you go. Hear the family screaming in the back ground, "that was my favorite piece!", who knew? I posted this in June."
: - : - : - : - :
 It's the last few days of the San Francisco Cityscapes show at Newmark Gallery (251 Post) and the last few days of the Inner Sunset Art Walk (9th and Irving.)
: - : - : - : - :
And next week, in case you didn't get enough vintage rock footage from Martin Scorsese this week, here's more from local Rock author, Richie Unterberger:
"On Tuesday evening, October 4, from 7:00-9:00pm, I'll be showing and discussing rare cool vintage film clips -- mostly, though not exclusively, from the 1960s -- in the basement of the Park branch of the San Francisco Library at 1833 Page Street. No deliberate tie-ins with my books (though there will be footage of some artists I've written about), just a mini-fest of great and sometimes bizarre rock film you'll have a hard time seeing anywhere else. There will be no repeats of clips I've showed at past library events; this will feature entirely new material. Planned for the program is footage of the Beatles, the Beach Boys, James Brown, the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Patti Smith, the Supremes, and more. The event is free to all."
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September 27, 2005 (Tuesday) Artists destroying their work
 Libby Rosof posted an incredible report ("Deus ex Machina") on artist Rah Crawford's destruction of his paintings. The artist did the deed in a gallery, in front of an audience, with a power saw. The deal was, the paintings could be "rescued" if someone bought them. Libby called Crawford the "P .T. Barnum of Philadelphia's art world."
Was it a fit of pique over lack of sales? A "you'll be sorry now" suicide gesture? A ritual, completing the end of that cycle of paintings? Or a publicity stunt?
A few years ago I was tempted to burn a stack of old canvases in a big summer solstice bonfire. Friends and family were horrified and talked me out of it. But I still wanted the old paintings to move on. So I gave away many of them, and the rest I gessoed over and started new paintings. In rare instances I stretched new canvas over the old paintings (meaning there's a hidden painting behind the visible one.)
At the time, I thought this was the second best solution (best being the bonfire.) But over time I've realized that they're all good ways to convert the energy that went into those paintings. And that's really what it's about - keeping the energy moving. A huge stack of moldering, dust-accumulating canvases is a stagnant and depressing sight that soon begins to divert even more energy from creation to maintenance.
I asked some friends and I searched the web to see what I could find about artists destroying their work. Quite a bit, it turns out. I found about 60 mentions of this practice, and here's roughly how it breaks down, in terms of reasons:
1. Not satisfied with the work - 30%
2. Depression & self-doubt - 26%
3. Lack of storage space or materials - 15%
4. Worries about persecution - 8%
5. Concern for legacy - 7%
6. Ritual - 5%
7. Other* - 9%
* To start over, to increase value of remaining works, to avoid seizure by creditors, and just plain crazy
Here are links to a few mentions of artists destroying their work:
Francis Bacon : "Bacon was disdainful of his work from before 1944 and destroyed the majority of it. He also destroyed an unknown number of works throughout his lifetime, and fragments of canvases were found in his studio after his death."
Fra Bartolommeo : "Fra Bartolommeo was a follower of Savonarola and is said to have destroyed his own paintings in the conflagrations (although the portrait of Savonarola did survive). After Savonarola was overthrown, Bartolommeo entered a monastery and renounced the practice of painting for six years."
Ralph Blakelock : "He would dress as an Indian, with beaded hair and dagger, sell a picture for a fraction of its worth, then tear up the money. Once he destroyed a number of paintings, fearful that a secret organization would discover them in his possession. In 1891 he was hospitalized for schizophrenia."
Paul Cezanne : "Cezanne's stay in Paris lasted only six months. He destroyed many canvases during bouts of black depression and returned home full of self-doubt rejecting his chosen career."
Stephen Etnier : "During a career that spanned six decades, Etnier was both highly prolific and extremely self-critical. He altered and destroyed many paintings."
Leon Golub : "In the mid-seventies Golub was beset with self-doubt. He destroyed nearly every work he produced during this period and nearly abandoned painting."
Marsden Hartley : "... but in the middle of the Depression he destroyed more than 100 of his paintings because he could not pay storage for them."
M.F. Husain : "On the last day of the exhibition he destroyed his paintings by overpainting with white."
Willem de Kooning : "As he destroyed one painting after another in a relentless search for his own identity, de Kooning, as his biographers portray him, often felt paralyzed with despair. "
Walt Kuhn : "He ruthlessly destroyed more paintings than he preserved, and he never signed one until he was completely satisfied with it."
Franz Marc : "Though he felt he was now making some progress, he destroyed his more ambitious works, as they continued to dissatisfy him."
Agnes Martin : "In 1967, after 10 years in the city, Agnes gave away her tools and art supplies, destroyed the paintings she had in her loft (many were elsewhere, having been sold), and left abruptly in a Dodge pick-up equipped with a camper, dramatically casting off from her life as a successful artist."
Claude Monet : "Throughout the decade, and during the 1870s as well, he suffered from extreme financial hardship and frequently destroyed his own paintings rather than have them seized by creditors."
Berthe Morisot : "...she soon abandoned aspects of Corot's teachings and destroyed almost all of her early work in favor of a more unconventional and modern approach..."
Georgia O'Keefe : "Early in her career O'Keeffe placed all the art she created in a room to evaluate it. She destroyed them all because she thought each work was derivative of someone else's style."
Frederic Remington : "Shortly before his death in 1909, Remington became disenchanted with his earlier illustrative work. He became so critical of the work he destroyed many of his finest paintings including this one."
Georges Rouault : "Rouault was such a perfectionist that he destroyed over 300 pieces of his own artwork because he considered them inadequate."
Chaim Soutine : "Soutine was prone to violent rages and bouts of depression and had attempted suicide. He often destroyed his own creations."
Jean-Antoine Watteau : "As his death approached, he destroyed, persuaded by the abbot of Carreau Abby, a large number of his more erotic paintings."
Jerry Wenstrom : "In 1979, Jerry Wennstrom, a rising star in the New York art world, intentionally destroyed his paintings and gave away his possessions and money."
Vasily Vereshchagin : "...although he got a Minor Silver Medal for 'Ulysses Slaying the Suitors of Penelope', he destroyed the painting saying that he would not paint such nonsense any longer, and left the Academy."
Images are: (top left) Burning Man, photo by SFChronicle's Chris Stewart; (above right) Tibetan Sand Mandala
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September 26, 2005 (Monday) Elves come at night
 The painting I'm working on now, has caused me a lot of aggravation over the last week or so. There's one section that just wasn't working, and I painted it over and over and over again, day after day... stalled in that spot, unable to move forward until that area was resolved. What kept me from getting discouraged, for the first few days anyway, was that I always had another idea of something to try. But finally, by Saturday night, I was out of ideas and it looked worse than it did on Monday. Not good. But still no need to panic. I had a feeling (based on experience) that if I just gave it a rest, something would come to me. And sure enough, I woke up Sunday morning with the solution outlined on that blackboard of the inner eyelids. I held off on opening my eyes until I'd had plenty of time to time to examine the steps. Then I leaped out of bed, went straight to the studio, and worked for an hour or so (before I'd even had a sip of tea.)
It's incidents like this, reoccurring on a regular basis, that have made me a believer in the concept of the Gift, as described by Lewis Hyde (in "The Gift - Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property", ISBN 0-394-71519-5.) Many creative people have mentioned this process. Hyde uses the folk tale of the "Cobbler and the Elves" to describe the mysterious process that manifests the needed element while the artist sleeps.
It's important not to confuse the gift with talent. Talent is labor - the inclination for practice, which prepares the artist to take advantage of the gift when it comes.
(image is from surlalunefairytales.com)
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September 22, 2005 (Wednesday) more on poets and painters
 I just got this email from friend & fellow painter, David Neri:
Appreciated your notes on e.e. cummings and the link to his art. He is one of my favorite poets, but somehow I missed the fact that he was a painter, too. Henry Miller was also a painter. A book titled "The Paintings of Henry Miller" published by Chronicle Books has four essays by Miller on painting. The subtitle ofthe book is taken from one of the essays: "Paint as you like and die happy" which just about sums up this journey we are embarked upon.
Here's a short poem by Cummings:
love is a place
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds
(Image is painting by A.D. Neri - "Evening Orange", 24 x 36, oil)
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September 21, 2005 (Wednesday) David Hockney and Eiko Ishioka
On Monday, I went to a short presentation at the San Francisco Performing Arts Library & Museum (SFPALM), to see a preview of the David Hockney and Eiko Ishioka collections. They showed slides, and a couple of short films about each of the artists and talked a bit about the kinds of work that will be coming to the museum. It will be 3 or 4 years before an exhibit of either of these collections can be opened to the public, mainly because SFPALM is transitioning into the Museum of Performance & Design, and looking for a new (bigger) space.
There were a lot of designers in the audience, and quite a few Ishioka fans. I wasn't familiar with her name, but as soon as I saw her work, I realized that I was familiar with it. Actually, you'd have to have been living in a cave not to be familiar with at least some of her work.
I was primarily interested in the Hockney collection. My introduction to Hockney's work was over 20 years ago at the National Gallery in Washington. I can't remember the title of the piece, but it was a kinetic painting - a mini stage set, filled with abstractly painted panels, with a bench in front. After I gratefully sat down for a rest, the music began, and different colored lighting effects radically transformed the piece from moment to moment, to coincide with the music. I no longer remember the music, but I can close my eyes and see the images with perfect clarity. However (sorry) I was not able to find it on the web. Does anyone know if this piece is still at the National Gallery?
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September 20, 2005 (Tuesday) Cummings and Lachaise on painting
 As a young man, E. E. Cummings moved to Greenwich Village to paint. Of the American poets in this book*, he probably had the most skill as a painter. At the easel or the typewriter, he liked to experiment with what he called "presentative" art. He first exhibiud his work in 1919 at the New York Society of Independent Artists; He entered two works, one called "Sound," one called "Noise." In 1926 he entered a doormat.
Written by E.E. Cummings in 1957:
"We are living in a time of plague" said Fritz Wittels; when I mentioned something called an atomic era "so, like the story-tellers of the Decameron, we must find salvation in ourselves."
Many unregenerate years ago, before everybody was a little better than everybody else, New York City boasted a phenomenon entitled The Society of Independent Artists whose yearly exhibitions opened with near riots - partly on account of the fantastic number of exhibitors (for membership fees were moderate) but chiefly because (since no jury existed) an "Independent show" was sure to comprise every not imaginable variety of artfulness and artlessness; plus occasionally a work (or play) of art.
I was wrestling some peculiarly jovial mob of sightseers at possibly the least orthodox of all Independent "openings," when out of nowhere the sculptor Lachaise gently materialized. "Hello Cumming" his serene voice (addressing me, as always, in the singular) sang above chaos "have you see one little cat?" I shook my head. He beckoned - and shoulder to shoulder we gradually corkscrewed through several huge roorns; crammed with eccentricities of inspiration and teeming - with miscalled humanity. Eventually we paused. He pointed. And I found myself face to face with a small canvas depicting a kitten.
During that distant epoch, pictures which couldn't be labeled either "academic" or "experimental" were usually pronounced "naive." But the healthily spontaneous little painting opposite me transcended classification. Bombarded by chromatic atrocities ranging all the way from lifeless non-representationality to deathful anecdotalism, it remained completely and charmingly itself. "Dis ting" Lachaise reverently affirmed (in the course of what remotely resembled a lull) "is paint with love."
text from *"Poets on Painters", edited by J.D. McClatchy, ISBN 0-520-06971-4
image is "Portrait of Marion Morehouse" by E. E. Cummings, from this web site
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September 19, 2005 (Monday) What's next?
 After locking myself in the studio most of the weekend, I managed to finally finish this painting for the SomARTS gallery (ArtSpan) show. Just in the nick of time. This is it for the garage paintings. At least for now. It's way past time for me get to painting on the next big narrative/figurative series.
Now I need to finish that commission and then get ready for Open Studios (which is only 4 weeks away.) At which point, I can really get back to some serious, and regular, art viewing.
There doesn't seem to be any shortage of things to see. Every day I get emails from people telling me what I should be going to see. Even though I rarely answer these, I do appreciate the suggestions. I'll even follow up on some of them.
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September 16, 2005 (Friday) Inner Sunset Art Walk
 The Inner Sunset Art Walk opens this weekend. It's the first time the neighborhood has produced one of these events. A jury of art people and business people reviewed artists' submissions and then paired each participating business with an artist. The business will display the artist's work for the next two weeks. Once the artists were notified it was up to the artist and the business owner to decide how to hang the show (which pieces and where/how to display them.) A visitor's guide was printed and there's going to be a big open house art walk next Thursday, the 22nd, plus a closing reception on Saturday, Oct. 1st.
 At first, it might seem weird to hang art in hardware stores and vacuum repair shops and the like. But I thought it was a great idea, and I can't wait to go see it. Yesterday I rode by there on the N-Judah and noticed Doug MacLean's kinetic sculpture, the "Marvelous Marble Machine" in the window of Progress Hardware. Leo Germano's rubbings of Utility Covers are up at F&H Vacuum Repair. (Leo's rubbing of New Orleans sewer and water at right)
Neither the artists nor the businesses had a choice in deciding which artist went where. I was on the jury, and I was a little nervous about how the selections would be received. I was surprised and heartened by the enthusiastic response from both artists and business people I've heard from. Shannon Amidon wrote on her web site:
"I must admit I was a bit worried when I saw the business I was paired up with, Cybelle’s Frontroom. I had never been there before, and the only information I could find was that it was a pizza place. Don't get me wrong I love pizza but I was just not sure how my artwork would go with it. Well, I went up and checked it out today and all my worries vanished. It is a very nice Italian /pizza restaurant, with beautiful burgundy walls and lots of nice dark wood. They have a large balcony/loft area where my art will be displayed." (Shannon's work, "Love Lies Bleeding" at upper left.)
 And photographer John Wall wrote about his exhibit:
When I signed up for the Inner Sunset Art Walk I had no idea at which particular business my work would be shown, or how the choice would work out. I feel pretty lucky to have drawn Roaring Mouse Cycles. It’s a cool shop, and an idea for an appropriate theme presented itself right away. (John's photo, "Hummingbird on Razor wire" at right.)
This is the neighborhood right across from the entrance to Golden Gate Park, near the de Young Museum. Check it out.
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September 14, 2005 (Wednesday) Is this the best we can come up with?
Libby Rosof explains it to us today (what IS that man thinking?) And it was this line that really got my attention:
"I propose that Bushism is dangerous because it involves a lack of imagination and a lack of vision. It has twice proven the administration's blindness to the realities of situations and an inability to plan realistically, with stupifyingly disastrous results. "
What I want to know is - is this the best we can do? (After all, the man was elected. Never mind the first time.) As artists, we're supposed to have a little imagination and vision - what are we doing with it?
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September 13, 2005 (Tuesday) Katrina nightmares
 I've been having nightmares lately - either I'm not painting enough, or I'm reading too many hurricane-aftermath stories, or both. Actually, I have managed to get a watercolor done each day (yesterday's at left), but I need to get back to my canvases. I have still have two that need to be done, like last week.
This whole NOLA/Katrina/FEMA gorgon is a muse who is mating with another long-buried project of mine and is spawning some kind of dark progeny. I can feel it, and I'm sure it will come forth, in the fullness of time. It took over two years for 9/11 to morph into a completed series of paintings (the Trickster.)
Scott Timberg of the LA Times touches on this in his article about the storm's effect on the arts:
"Because plays take so long to cast, paintings take so long to borrow and insure, and performers' schedules are typically booked far in advance, fine arts programs tend not to respond quickly to news. Not to mention the time it takes an artist to metabolize a big political or cultural change."
By Scott Timberg, LATimes Staff Writer, "In the storm's wake, creativity"
In this world, these times, when it seems like every thought is instantaneously delivered, it takes a real act of will to resist the blizzard of incoming messages. And not just from media sources, but from cell phone users who have gotten to the point where they take personal offense at the fact that someone (like me) is NOT available to take their call (and furthermore, I may not even get around to listening to my messages today.)
When I walk the streets of this city, it's rare for me to encounter another human being who is actually experiencing the same moment in time and space. By that I mean, a person who sees the same painted sidewalk we are both standing on, who smells the same air coming off the bay, who hears the pigeons cooing at our feet and the falcon circling overhead, who feels that blast of heated air coming from the alley door of bakery... Most of the people I pass on the sidewalk, or sit next to on the bus, are engaged in phone conversations or listening to electronic devices, or typing (with two fingers) into tiny little keyboards. Their bodies may be here, but they're really somewhere else.
The saddest part about all this is that even when I'm with friends, it's getting to the point where an an uninterrupted encounter is a rare experience. Inevitably, we'll be talking about or observing something together when their phone goes off and even if it's a short interruption, it's still an intrusion.
It seems to me that if you're available to everybody all the time, then you're not really available to anybody. And you've ceased to exist as a unique individual, interacting with another unique individual, in a particular time and place. Of course, being a permeable portion of the plasmic universal ALL would be kinda cool, if it wasn't for my sneaking suspicion that somebody is poisoning the plasma.
And I fully understand the irony of having this kind of rant on an electronic medium that broadcasts to unknown hundreds (?) of people.
I'm getting kind of far-afield here, so before I wander any further, let me see if I can tie these thoughts together. It takes me a long time to process the stuff that goes into my paintings. The process requires large chunks of uninterrupted time. Lately I feel like it's abnormal to need that much focused time. Scott Timberg's article reminded me that there are other creative people who experience this need. Does this make our art different from work by (usually younger) artists who have grown up in a world where the experience of "be here now" is rare? Does art produced by focused but barely connected individuals have any relevance in today's world?
Back to the studio... maybe I'll figure it out.
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September 12, 2005 (Monday) The mountain becomes beach sand
Charles Ware died. New Orleans is on life support. And, though I wouldn't count her out yet, I noticed something about Charlie and New Orleans... and my friend Sachi who died about this time last year. I noticed the phenomenon of dispersal. The essence of a thing lives on, beyond it's physical existence. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that it transmogrifies. The spirit of New Orleans is scattered around the country like half a million Mardi-Gras beads. Some of them will roll back to the city, but others will turn to seeds and grow that New Orleans spirit in new places.
Since that interview I did with Charlie earlier this year, I've gotten emails from people who own pieces of his art. They describe being transformed by the experience of living with his work. (One of Charles Ware's etchings at left.) There's still a huge body of work in his space, and I hope it all gets out there and finds new places to start growing.
Yesterday I got an email from an artist who was inspired by Charlie's example of making art, everyday, no excuses. Out of art materials? Use something else. No studio? Use the kitchen table. Eyesight failing? Collage big pieces of paper. No time? We all got the same time - make the time. No inner vision? Practice. Do the drills, strengthen your chops - make the time and space for art and you'll be ready when the vision returns.
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September 9, 2005 (Friday) Artists and Disaster
 Local artist Charles Ware fell at home last week and hit his head. His course in the hospital (UCSF) has not gone well, and he's not expected to survive. His wife and daughter said that the communications he'd received in the last year, (from this interview) had made him very happy.
As Tyler Green mentioned, everyone's been talking about Katrina and what to do, how to help. Performers do benefit shows, but what can visual artists do?
Lenny Campello has a list of artists who are using their work to raise funds.
At San Francisco's Newmark Gallery, gallerist Mark Wladika and artist Christian de Cambiaire have offered "Red Blocks for Red Cross." I'd like to do something similar with my cityscapes and I called Mark yesterday to float a few ideas. He's talking to the other artists and maybe we can post something about it next week.
I talked to Amanda Janes last night about her Corner Cup Caravan to Texas. They've received a mountain of donated items. Now they need volunteers to help sort, label & pack the stuff - if you want to help, show up this weekend at the Corner Cup (43rd & Lawton, SF.) They also could use some gas money and maybe money to rent a bigger truck. For those who keep asking if they get a tax deduction, Amanda's daughter Ashley has this to say: "Sometimes you just have to give and not receive."
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September 8, 2005 (Thursday) Herman Leonard
 It's been a bit of a worry, but we finally located the only person we knew in New Orleans - Herman Leonard. (David used to be his studio assistant when Herman lived in San Francisco.) You've seen Herman's photos, even if you didn't know his name. Here's a great interview, illustrated with a few of his best-known photos.
Herman and his family are in Los Angeles now, and could use some help. Photo District News has a brief story about him, with the contact info, which is here:
Leonard Family Help Fund
c/o Jo Winett
10716 Esther Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90064
Money can also be sent via PayPal to leonardfamilyhelpfund@verizon.net.
(photo of Herman Leonard from here)
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September 7, 2005 (Wednesday) The Sketch Hunter
 "The sketch hunter has delightful days of drifting about among people, in and out of the city, going anywhere, everywhere, stopping as long as he likes - no need to reach any point, moving in any direction following the call of interests.
He moves through life as he finds it, not passing negligently the things he loves, but stopping to know them, and to note them down in the shorthand of his sketchbook, a box of oils with a few small panels, the fit of his pocket, or on his drawing pad.
Like any hunter he hits or misses. He is looking for what he loves, he tries to capture it. It's found anywhere, everywhere. Those who are not hunters do not see these things. The hunter is learning to see and to understand - to enjoy.
There are memories of days of this sort, of wonderful driftings in and out of the crowd, of seeing and thinking. Where are the sketches that were made? Some of them are in dusty piles, some turned out to be so good they got frames, some became motives for big pictures, which were either better or worse than the sketches, but they, or rather the states of being and understandings we had at the time of doing them all, are sifting through and leaving their impress on our whole work and life."
- Robert Henri, from "The Art Spirit", ISBN 0-06-430138-9
And that's where I'll be spending most of my spare time for the next few weeks. The image is an ink and watercolor drawing done a few days ago - the scene is the Southern entrance to the Stockton tunnel.
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September 6, 2005 (Tuesday) Life echos Art
Last night I was watching the DVD film, "The Mystery of Picasso" (1955, Georges Clouzot) which is accompanied by Alain Resnais' 1950 "Guernica." The Guernica short (13 minutes) is a reading of a Paul eluard poem and shifting visuals of drawings by Picasso. I was struck by the similarities between Guernica (the artwork) and the visuals coming at us from Katrina.
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September 5, 2005 (Monday) Simple Pleasures
I don't know about you, but I'm grateful for clean, dry clothes; a safe quiet place to sleep, eat and paint; and my art materials.
 Amanda Janes, a local art collector, and owner of the Corner Cup Cafe, is more than grateful and emailed the following appeal:
"The Corner Cup is sponsoring a truck and 2 drivers to take supplies into Texas where over 200,000 displaced people are trying to figure out where to go and what to do next. Our truck is set to leave on 9/13, which gives us one week to collect donations.
We are looking for cases of water, diapers, baby formula, electrolytes, calling cards, reading glasses, shoes, socks, clothing, blankets, stuffed animals, paper/pencils, school supplies, etc.
Anything that you may take for granted on a daily basis-clean underwear- is what these people don't have.
Please join us, as many of you have done in the past, to reach outside our own homes, being thankful for all that we have, while recognizing what others don't, and give what you can.
We want to be mindful about not creating more work for those working in the trenches, so if you are donating clothing, please bag and tag them - mens size 9, womens size 12, etc. so that they may be dispersed with ease and efficiency.
Donations can be dropped off at the Corner Cup coffee shop, located at 43rd and Lawton (in SF) - or in our driveway at 1535 40th Avenue, SF, CA 94122.
Those of you with more questions can call me at 415-571-7206. Please feel free to forward this e-mail along as the more donors the better."
Thank you,
Amanda
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September 1, 2005 (Thursday) Hurricane Katrina & the Arts / Press Release for tonight's lecture
Tyler Green has a great roundup of links to info about Hurricane Katrina and the Arts, including a - - page about a fund for museums affected by the hurricane.
- - - - - - - - - -
This is a crazy week for me (hence, no post yesterday) so I'm signing off with a bit of shameless self-promotion and I'll be back to my regular daily posting on Monday.
Press Release for my lecture tonight (first thursday!), 7pm, downtown SF:
Newmark Gallery San Francisco presents
IN THE STUDIO WITH LARRY MORACE AND ANNA CONTI , Two visions of one city
Thursday, September 1st, 2005, 6:30pm - 8:30pm
Campton Place Hotel, 340 Stockton Street, San Francisco, CA.
Two distinct painters compare their very different views of San Francisco in the luxury of one of the finest hotels in the city. Join painters Anna Conti and Larry Morace in an extraordinary lecture and art presentation on Thursday, September 1st, 2005, 6:30pm - 8:30pm, at Campton Place Hotel, 340 Stockton Street, San Francisco, CA.
Larry Morace and Anna L. Conti both live in the Sunset district of San Francisco. Both artists create photo-based representational paintings of the city and share many of the same artistic influences, such as Edward Hopper. However Morace’s work is radically different from Conti's. Morace works with juicy oil paint to the edge of abstraction while Conti’s works are rich with crisply detailed draftsmanship and symbolism. How do these two painters with so much in common arrive at such wildly divergent styles?
Morace and Conti’s will speak candidly about their studios, painting process and style, shared artistic influences, and what they like about cityscapes. Both artists are experienced presenters and have arranged a slide show to accompany the talk. The presentation includes painting displays and ends with an open Questions and Answers session.
Come and see more Larry Morace and Anna Conti’s paintings in "San Francisco Cityscapes," Newmark Gallery’s second annual San Francisco cityscapes exhibit. Featuring artists Larry Morace, Paul Madonna, Anna Conti and Toru Sugita. The exhibit encompasses several styles with the common thread being the insider’s view of the City. August 2nd through October 1st, 2005.
Newmark Gallery San Francisco is located at 251 Post Street, Suite 412 in the Union Square area of San Francisco. Gallery hours are Tuesday through Saturday 11 am - 6 pm and by appointment. Please view our website at www.newmarkgallery.com for more information and upcoming events or call 415-392-3692.
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Previous entries:
August 30, 2005 (Tuesday) New gallery in Yerba Buena Gardens?
August 29, 2005 (Monday) A room of one's own, but where?
August 27, 2005 (Weekend) Tinhorn, Hayes Valley art walk, part 3
August 26, 2005 (Friday) Bucheon - Hayes Valley art walk, part 2
August 25, 2005 (Thursday) Hayes Valley art walk
August 23, 2005 (Tuesday) Around the web, and elsewhere...
August 22, 2005 (Monday) Painting in Union Square, fending off pigeons
August 19, 2005 (Friday) Buy Art Now
August 19, 2005 (Friday) Corporate Art (Target Ads in New Yorker)
August 17, 2005 (Wednesday) Newmark opening
August 17, 2005 (Wednesday) spotlight (it's all about me)
August 16, 2005 (Tuesday) de Young tour
August 15, 2005 (Monday) John Gutman
August 12, 2005 (Friday) Russian Criminal Tattoos
August 11, 2005 (Thursday) "Make Your Art Your Business"
August 10, 2005 (Wednesday) One Dwarf
August 9, 2005 (Tuesday) Weekend Gallery Walk
August 8, 2005 (Monday) New Work by Old Guys
August 5, 2005 (Friday) Cracker Jacks Prizes and a Bag-O-Art
August 4, 2005 (Thursday) Catching up...
August 1, 2005 (Monday) - Look Familiar?
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