Carnivora: Stained Glass Sculpture
Over the last several months, as money has been raised, as objects have been designed and lyrics written, as jewelry has taken shape and residencies secured, the train keeps a rollin’, Carnivora style.
Though the project has often been about management as much as the creation of art, the single greatest pleasure for me has been seeing items come to life: springing from my mind to the page and on into the real world.
Below you will find a short video showing the application of some of the finishing touches as one of many pieces comes to life: in this case, a stained glass sculpture.
Once said, it can never be taken back…
Thursday, June 18th saw my first professional outing as an artist speaking publicly about their work.
Programmed by Cannery Works (a not-for-profit based in NY) and sponsored by the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council the event was a success with a turn-out beyond the 70 seats we had hoped to fill. Though dark and stormy, art lovers turned out for a riveting discussion of photography as an art form and what we artists thought of the trend towards ever larger prints (hint: we all LOVE big prints).
The night was personally a pleasure for me: I’ve long felt comfortable in front of a crowd, and even more so when talking about something I know as well as my own work. My favorite moment of the evening came when someone asked “what makes us [the artists] think that our work was art?!?” I love questions like that - it gets the blood flowing and gets the audience interested!
The other artists, whom I am lucky enough to consider good friends, both discussed aspects of their ongoing projects (Timothy Briner and Matt Stacey).
I can’t wait to do it again… I hope to have some audio or video in the next few weeks.
My favorite “studio”…
I understand that work, like life, has a learning curve.
As I spend more of my time creating art I’m beginning to realize that having the time to do so does not necessarily mean that one will do so automatically.
Recently I spent several days alone in the woods working on sketches and concepts for my all consuming project, Carnivora. Below is a video that catches some of the elements I sought in order to help me help myself. It was a productive trip, though it left me yearning for more.
Consider this a tone poem: there’s nothing to really “get”… just a man in the woods.
Sights and Sounds
A glimpse, or a taste…
8:30pm, Manhattan, on a mercilessly cold and blustery midwinter night.
It took a moment to register, but soon I recognized the shape of a body huddled beneath the shivering blanket. The form seemed so at odds with the warm and vibrant scene just over it’s shoulder: a rainbow of flowers bloomed behind the glass and everything seemed right in that organized world. Though separated by only a few feet, I was devastated by the distance between the two.
shot with an iPhone 3G
A Career in the Arts? Really? - Part III
What drives someone to desire a career as an artist?
What makes them say, I’m going to make “art” for a living?
In hindsight, making the decision in college to switch majors, essentially turning my back on the sciences as a career and focusing on the arts wasn’t that hard a decision to make for me. I realized I wasn’t happy, and when I asked myself what would make me happy - being an artist immediately filled my field of vision.
I remember sitting in my chemistry professor’s office discussing some banal aspect of the day’s task. As I was wont to do: I cracked a joke, and though I’m by no means a professional comedian I’d garnered my share of prior laughs. The professor didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked at me as though I’d insulted him, and then looked back to his notebook. You see… he didn’t have time for jokes. He was a scientist and he was serious!
That had been the final straw for me: I knew that I didn’t want to spend my life cooped up in a lab with folks who only wanted to understand the scientific underpinnings of laughter. I wanted to laugh.
(NOTE: with that said, I have since met many hysterical, life-loving scientists, and realize that everyone’s mileage may vary)
Once the decision was made, I never looked back.
my college studio
Of course, if you’ve read the first two parts of this short series you know that it hasn’t been all art, all the time - far from it in fact. I’d liken the process to something more akin to the lining up of planets: once in awhile Mars and Venus align so that you can see them both from the Earth.
Stay tuned for Part IV, the final installation of this ongoing look at the origins of an interest in the arts. Click here to view Part I and here for Part II.
Carnivora: Sights and Sounds
A glimpse, or a taste…
2:00pm, on a bitterly cold February afternoon, hours behind schedule, in a photo studio below the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
The make-up was finally finished and the set-up was complete, but the studio was cold… far too cold for me, and I was wearing clothes and a hat. I couldn’t help but wince when I looked at our first model and saw her standing barefoot on the hard floor. As we marched heater after heater into the studio in an effort to increase the comfort level I crossed my fingers as the final preparations were made. There would be only one chance: we had to get it right.
shot with an iPhone 3G
Odd Foods: The UGLI© Fruit
In my on-going pursuit of food oddities, particularly fruit oddities, I’m continually amazed by what’s available at your local store.
At first I thought, “well, I do live in New York City, and there’s something fitting about having access to so much”, but as time has passed and I’ve been around, I’m realizing that these kinds of things are everywhere! The bodega or deli around the corner as well as the local grocer.
The ugli fruit (pronounced oo-glee according to wikipedia), or Jamaican Tangelo, is something special: not only are fruits like this available thanks to globalization, but their names are copyrighted and they’re sold as branded items. This fruit, which at the end of it all is a hybridization between a grapefruit and a tangerine, is sold under two different brand names: UGLI© Fruit and Uniq© Fruit.
Grown largely in it’s native Jamaica, the fruit was actually discovered growing wild on the island, and has since been commercialized.
The skin is rough, but easy to peel like a naval orange, while the flesh is extremely juicy tending more towards the sweet of the tangerine, rather than the bitter of the grapefruit… which is good because I don’t like grapefruit, and I did like this.
Not as expensive as some of the exotics I’ve looked at before, it does however command a premium when compared to more mundane fruits (apples and oranges for example). It’s slightly larger than a standard grapefruit, and had a sturdy shelf life, lasting more than 2 weeks on my counter before I dug in.
Andy had a Dream…
Almost a decade ago I traveled to Portugal and decided that I would paint and write while traveling throughout the country. I stayed for 6 months and it remains, in my mind, one of the most rewarding adventures I’ve ever experienced.
While abroad, I received a letter from my friend, Andrew Johnson, telling me of a dream he had had. It struck a visceral chord within and I was moved to pen an Eliot-esque poem embellishing the contents of his dream.
New York, present day…
As work on my multi-media installation, Carnivora, proceeds I am excited to know that one of my favorite musicians is hard at work crafting a unique album of music based on my writings and poems as they relate to the show’s premise. Of course, as is the case with so many things, there was work done before the work began, and as such Felix (the musician) repayed me a debt by creating a song based on a poem that I’ve never been able to let go of… it’s called The Dream (or I Dreamt as Andrew Johnson).
You can read the poem by clicking here, and you can listen to the resulting track below.
A Career in the Arts? Really? - Part II
Can you hear the gears turning?
What drives someone to desire a career as an artist?
What makes them say, I’m going to make “art” for a living?
From an early age I was drawn to creative endeavors: drawing, doodling, Play Dohing, Shrinky Dinking… you name it, I liked to do it.
Though my father wasn’t around for much of my childhood, I was fortunate to have had a mother who tirelessly encouraged my creative pursuits, providing me with endless reams of colored paper, rounded safety scissors, crayons and other implements of marking. Some of my most memorable childhood toys fell into that category.
There were the bathtub crayons, meant to be used on the tiles of our shower, and of course there were the crayon cookies; leftover crayon nibs melted together in muffin tins to form rainbow rounds (early recycling!)
Like my fondly remembered crayon cookies, sometimes it was the simplest of items that brought the most joy.
The joy of simple objects... like an egg carton... taped to your face?
Having played a large part in my early years, the importance of the arts began to fade throughout Middle School, where I focused largely on touching girls (all to no avail). It, therefore, came as some surprise when I was voted “Most Artistic” at the close of 8th grade. And certainly a great surprise to the boy who illustrated the entire yearbook.
Sadly, the arts all but died within me during the 4 years of high school, as I scribbled meaninglessly in notebooks and spent hours upon hours pouring over comic books with like minded friends. It was not until mid-way through my sophomore year of college that they surfaced again… but, boy, did they surface.
“Mom… I’m dropping out of the pre-med program… I’m going to be an artist!”
Gulp!
Stay tuned for Part III of this ongoing look at the origins of an interest in the arts. Click here to view Part I.
Sights and Sounds
A glimpse, or a taste…
2:30pm, midtown Manhattan, the sidewalks were full of shoulders angling and jerking: the busy dance of coming and going.
I stood in front of a bank of televisions as they squawked noiselessly behind plate glass: all flashing their non-news… save for one. There was something macabre about the image as it hung there, frozen, quivering ever so slightly in time to some imagined pulse. It was monstrous and delicious in the way that anything that shakes you free from urban repitition can be (lock the door, down the stairs, board the train, up the stairs, open wallet, etc, etc.).
shot with an iPhone 3G
Lost and Found: The Highest Stairway
Alejandro loved his children.
It really was as simple as that, and so it was no surprise that he carried a picture of his only son, Nueve, in his wallet.
Nueve, which of course, meant 9 in English, was a nod to Nueve’s role in his families lineage: he was the ninth son born to the same blood line, and big things were expected of him. He was the one they hoped would “make it”. There was only one problem… Nueve was a girl.
No one knew: Alejandro would never let anyone know.
The styles of the time allowed for little boys to wear their hair long, and Neuve understood the importance of maintaining the facade: it was fun, it was a game.
Alejandro worried about the future as he stumbled slightly on the irregular rise of the stone step.
Found in the shadows of Huayna Picchu, wind-pressed to one of the many steps of Peru’s pre-Columbian Incan wonder, Machu Picchu.
Sights and Sounds
A glimpse, or a taste…
Mid-afternoon on a blustery day, though not quite winter, since it seems we don’t have those in New York anymore.
The scent of fish was strong as I rounded the corner having just come from Dim Sum in Brooklyn’s, then new-to-me, Chinatown. The abundance was the second thing you noticed: the possibilities were boundless and the prices reasonable! But could they sell it all? After a brief tour of the bounty I shuffled home with a small bag of razor clams and a pound of LIVE shrimp knowing for certain that my taste buds would thank me.
shot with an iPhone 3G
A Career in the Arts? Really? - Part I
What drives someone to desire a career as an artist?
What makes them say, I’m going to make “art” for a living?
I surely don’t know, but I know that I’ve fully made that decision.
Over the course of the nearly 10 years that I’ve lived in New York, I’ve made plenty of art, but always struggled when people asked me what I did for a living. It felt, somehow, disingenuous to say, “why, I’m an artist!” when I knew that I had another job. It didn’t feel right even when I was making a good deal of my income from freelance graphic design (that’s a personal statement and not a comment on the artistic merits of design). When I hit my early 30’s, however, it dawned on me: it’s time to do it or not, but no more half-way. I didn’t want to lay on my deathbed wishing that I had tried to be an artist. I was going to do it.
Nigh on two years later and I’ve done it: and by “done it” I mean that on a day-to-day basis it’s all I do, and though I may be ass-over-tea kettle in debt, with a hill to climb in front of me that would intimidate the most talented in the field, I still go to bed at night with a smile on my face.
Stay tuned for Part II of this ongoing look at the origins of an interest in the arts.
Studio cat, Igga, keeps a watchful eye on the work at paw...
A new day, a new dawn… a NEW SITE!
Many suns and many moons have passed since my last posting to this menagerie, but there’s been a great deal of movement behind the scenes as the mighty process of retooling has taken place.
Most importantly…
Lo, a new website has emerged from beneath the covers: www.jasoncovert.com
Some may have been there before, and many likely not, but it’s new, and America loves new.
I would tell you that once you step in, you can smell that new website smell, but I’d be lying because technology simply isn’t there… yet.
Check it out - namely you may notice a distillation of focus: upon landing, you’ll have two basic choices - photography or fine art. I’m trying to focus, people. Focus.
When I was in high school, Mr. Brown, my physics teacher, once told my mother that he thought I could do incredible things if only I would focus. Sadly, he didn’t think I ever would. Well, Mr. Brown, I’m giving it a shot.
A ray of sunshine in an otherwise drab and lifeless internet
Changes on the horizon
For some time now, Clogvert, has lain more or less dormant.
At first it started out as a fun outlet for all of my weird and off-color commentary that otherwise had no home, but as my life and career have become more involved the time to craft witty posts that no one would read has grown scarce.
I’ve saved a few of my favorite posts below, tentatively altered the design of the site, and in the near future hope to re-tool the content of the site to reflect the struggles of being a real world working artist… which will be my full-time job in just a matter of months.
Sit tight, and check back in a few weeks.
Odd Foods: I’m not quite sure… UPDATED
Once in awhile I’m struck, and I mean absolutely struck, by some of the fruit you come across in your day to day life (not unlike an autistic child might be smitten by the workings of a light switch).
For example, the above: I found this small, pleasingly colored fruit, about the size of a medium plum, in a local market and was so taken by the appeal of its aesthetic that I completely forgot to take note of its name.
UPDATE: Finally, after much searching, I’ve discovered what this fruit is called: it’s a Loquat! You can read more about it here!
It was, however, firm to the touch with a slight give under pressure. The flesh was pleasantly crisp and juicy, though not so much so that liquid spilled from it once cut. It tasted much like a plum, but with a hint of citrusy sweetness and a touch of the tropical one might find in a fruit like a mango or papaya (while tasting unlike either fruit).
In the center of the fruit was a large nut with brown skin hiding a verdant green underlayer (click here for a better look at the center) which was dense, though not nearly as, say, a peach pit. The nut sliced easily with a common kitchen knife revealing a white flesh with a single thin green line. (click here for a close-up)
All in all, a pleasant fruit I could see myself eating often, though as is the case with many of these exotic fruits its price was somewhat prohibitive ($1.99 each), which for such a small fruit must account for either the difficulties of growing it, or the cost of shipping it to non-native regions (ie. Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn, NY)
Sights and Sounds
A glimpse, or a taste…
6:00pm, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and the threat of snow was in the air.
It was Christmas Eve, 2006, and our small family’s holiday goblets were filled with Dew: the kitchen was a blur of activity as the roast was pulled from the oven and the haunting smell of fresh Pillsbury crescent rolls washed over me. It was the land of plenty, and we were Americans.
Lost and Found: A Dinner Out
click image to enlarge
Diane: “How much asparagus comes with the truffled potato and duck dish?”
Waiter: “Approximately 5-7 spears, m’am.”
Diane: “I see… and are there nuts in the ‘Coddled Cod’… which, by the way, is an adorable name for a dish…”
Waiter: “Pine nuts to be precise: it is one of our signatures and Chef Seamus is quite fond of alliteration - he originally has a background in literature!”
Diane: “NOOOO! Ooooh, a renaissance man. Jaime, did you hear that?!? Literature!”
Jaime: “Hmmm.”
Diane and Jaime Hilgenbra had been married for 15 years: most of them good, and some of them wonderful. They were the proud parents of two children, now in college (one at State, and one off to Hamilton, upstate… studying social something or other). They were good people who had lead decent and honest lives - save for that one little indiscretion that Jaime had had, but that was years ago, and what Diane didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her… after all, he DID love her - he knew that. Jaime worked as the front office man for the construction contracting business he had started with his brother, Robert, 12 years prior, and Diane was the receptionist and billing “department” for Dr. Cross’ dental practice near the center of town. Diane ordered the “Coddled Cod” with a small garden salad, and in the end Jaime ordered the chicken stuffed with haggis, wrapped in ham - they split a molten chocolate cake and two glasses of champagne for desert… which they had first. It was their 15 year anniversary after all.
Found fluttering in ankle high grasses on the Long Island Expressway as I stepped from the car to relieve my aching bladder.
“Was kind of into it until you had to make it all personal with the ‘where I pee’ commentary.”
Methuselah’s Plate: Fish Sausage
I like to cook. I like to eat. This is a good combination.
Once in a blue moon I will grab a somewhat dusty cookbook and crack it open while uttering the phrase (internally… not quite that crazy) “I will cook what first appears”.
Enter Fish Sausages. Yeah, you read that right. Fish sausages.
As fate would have it I found myself with a somewhat complicated and certainly time consuming recipe, containing four different kinds of aquatic ocean life (mussels, white fish, salmon, and shrimp). Not to be daunted and too stubborn to change my mind I quickly found myself mired in the usual understocked kitchen dilemmas, such as “blender as food processor” or the famed “wooden spoon as spatula” scenario… seemingly simple and of little consequence, these little foibles can add up and create head shaking results (such as the time I tried to make chocolate with a blender, and ended up with sparks, smoke and a broken blender).
After 45 minutes of effort that involved steaming, shelling, mincing, and chilling the mussels, I blended the fish together with oil, egg whites, dill and love. I next wrapped the concoction in saran wrap, rolling the filler and twirling the ends of the wrap to create a sausage shape, before wrapping them in foil, and simmering them in a shallow pan of steaming water.
Once returned to the fridge, you simply pan sear them when ready to dine, and drizzle them in a parsley, butter and caper sauce.
The result: near perfection for those that enjoy the ocean’s bounty. Absolutely, without question, worth the effort!
Click here to see it in all its gory glory. Bon apetite!
Sights and Sounds
A glimpse, or a taste…
4:00am, South Beach, Miami, and the breeze from the sea was warm and relaxing.
The shouts of drunken fools echoed off the shimmering store front windows. At this time of the morning, on the streets of Miami there are far more wares displayed for sale than those kept behind the darkened windows of the local stores. Here walk beautiful, plastic people. This image spoke to me of that.
shot with a Nokia 6682