Archive for the ‘Fine Art’ Category
A New Studio Cometh… Together Slowly
click image to embiggen
After spending the month of August on a small farm in upstate New York as an Artist in Residence with Chashama, a 501(c)(3) organization dedicated to helping artists find the space they need, Chashama has awarded me with a Visual Arts Studio Award: stated simply, this means I’ve been given access to a new subsidized studio in the Brooklyn Army Terminal.
Above you’ll find a photograph of the space with freshly painted floors (ah, satisfying… you know that appealed to my barely restrained OCD) and a few odds and ends.
One of the things I’ve immediately noticed about having a larger space is that it begins to let your thoughts and ideas grow larger, which is both exciting and potentially expensive.
I expect there to be much movement on the creation front; part of the obligation to keeping the studio lay in spending no less than 50 hours a month in the space.
A Career in the Arts? Really? – Part IV
What drives someone to desire a career as an artist?
What makes them say, I’m going to make “art” for a living?
Every single artist I’ve met along the way has a different story to tell and, seemingly, a different impetus behind what drives them to create their art.
There are those who create art because they enjoy it, but feel uncomfortable making the jump to working on it full time, and there are those driven by an all-powerful need to create that allows for nothing else, and so, create they will, all else be damned. There are then those who simply enjoy the creative aspect of the work as a hobby and nothing more: something to pass the time and calm the spirit. And there are those who work at other tasks for the majority of their lives, turning only to art when so many other hurdles have been vaulted. The list goes on…
For myself, I realized that creating was what made me the most happy, and at an early age I discovered that I was a slave to making sure I was happy if nothing else. I’ve been called selfish, single-minded, stubborn, foolish, courageous, and a litany of other words because of this, but in the end it’s the pursuit of happiness that is the most important part of being alive for me. There have been a slew of words published on this very subject, illuminating the modern origins of this philosophy, but at the end of the day I can’t help but think that this is what one’s forebears had hoped and strove for: the dream that is “a better life”.
And so, shamelessly, I turned to the arts in one form or another to satisfy my desire to be happy.
To that effect, when I was asked recently what I would do should my current plan to establish myself in the art world fail, I paused, thought, and answered: “I’ll do something else in the arts.”
You see, I don’t have another realistic choice if my first priority is to be happy. Happy is different than rich. Happy is different than successful. Happy is not, however, so different than fulfilled.
In an earlier post in this series I mentioned that my father was not around a lot while I was growing up, but fortunately I had a supportive mother. I was, however, also very lucky that my mother, though divorced, was dating a young man who was equally supportive of my interests. That man later became my stepfather, whom I think of as my dad, and provided me with much of the support that a growing child needs in order to see one’s creative interests as viable in the context of a world at large.
For whatever specific reasons I chose the arts as the path which I walk down, it was without question made easier by the support I received, and still receive today by those I choose to surround myself with.
At the end of the day, were I to offer advice to a person seeking to become an artist, it would be this: surround yourself with support.
In fact, I think that good advice no matter your pursuit.
And, oh yeah, honestly ask yourself, “am I happy?”
my dad: a supportive environment is important for the developing artist
To catch up on the previous parts of this meandering series click here: Part I, Part II, Part III
The things we do for our art…
getting the lights right, in all white, on a winter's photo shoot
Ah, the things that we do for our art!
Sometimes, just sometimes, one looks back on an image and thinks… “damn, this had better have been worth it.”
After having recently seen the fruits (coming soon) of the rather humiliating labor that brought this image to life, I can now say, it was definitely worth it.
I’m told that if you can’t laugh at yourself, you really have no right to laugh at others – which is something I’m absolutely not ready to give up.
The Quality of Line
As my August 2009 residency continues I’ve found myself talking quite a bit about “line quality”. And while most of the folks around me hear what I have to say, nod and move on, I’ve come to realize that it really must seem a throw away expression.
Why has no one said, “what the hell are you talking about?” (assuming they listen or care).
As I work, day in and day out with nothing but black and grey lines (ink and pencil respectively) I find that when I close my eyes I continue to see lines of varying width and sharpness, and as I read a book at the close of the day I find myself examining, almost subconsciously, the heft of the line used to connect the two pillars of a capital “H”, or the gentle slope of the letter “c”. One might think this bothersome, but really it feels like a meditation: the more time I spend with the line the closer I feel I come to truly understanding it.
Now, I know that may sound odd, but it really is what I’ve chosen to do with my life. I make images which, by and large, are comprised of a series of lines that when viewed as a whole, form an image greater than the sum of its parts. I believe that getting to know the singular line allows me a superior control of the overall work: that with the flick of the wrist a whole piece can be altered, perhaps imperceptibly to the uninitiated, but changed nonetheless.
Every artist, I would imagine, dreams of a time when their work transcends the boundaries of their mortal life, discussed in a far flung art history course on a campus full of activity long after the artist’s passing. For me, I would like it to be said that Jason Covert understood the line – that the body of his work spoke of an exquisite quality of line.
VIDEO: Live, from New York…
As mentioned previously, on Thursday, June 18th, 2009, I was fortunate enough to be offered the opportunity to speak publicly about my photographic work, entitled A Quiet World.
Programmed by Cannery Works (a not-for-profit based in NY, headed by the Spencer Chandler mentioned in the above video) and sponsored by the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, the event was a success: above you will find video of my brief introduction to said work. The artist presentations were followed by a spirited Q&A session unfortunately not featured here.
An Artist’s Dilemma: So Many Choices…
like a kid in a candy store... so... many... pencils
The photo above represents a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately, “how much is too much?”
For me, though the seemingly infinite choice of pencils above is ponderous, the real question comes only days before departing for my very first artist residency and a proposed work of staggering proportions.
Let me backup a little: an integral part of maintaining one’s balance sheet as an artist comes in the form of grants, or rather, the pursuit of grants, because any artist who has tried can tell you: there are far, far more artists than there are grants to be won. And so we must look beyond the dream grants, those that simply hand the artist funds and say “do whatever you want!”. We must look towards those that offer the artist something less tangible than cold, hard cash: we must look at the residencies. Residencies come in many shapes and sizes, but the one I’m attending offers the artist a room to sleep in and a studio to work in, all whilst surrounded by thankfully few distractions.
The work that I referred to above, and which I hope to start and complete by the time my residency expires is to be a 6ft by 6ft, deeply detailed illustration. I’m nervous: and not because it’s a big drawing, but because I intend to use the same level of detail throughout as I would on a drawing 1ft by 1ft. Forget about needing a new eraser when I’m done: I might need new eyes!
So as I prepare to dive in, I ask myself again, “how much is too much?”
I suspect I’ll be able to tell you in about a month – one way or the other.
Paris: Have Artist, Will Travel
click to enlarge images
Ahhh… they say travel is good for the soul and I would tend to agree. On the other hand, I know from personal experience that travel is good for the creative part of one’s self, and that is the reason I find myself sitting in a miniscule 6th floor apartment looking out over the Paris rooftops.
After a daunting 3 plus hour delay and a grueling overnight flight we touched down at Charles De Gaul Airport in the suburb of Paris known as Roissy. From there we made our way into the city proper with only a few minor hiccups.
As we emerged from the metro at the St Paul stop, the marvel of Google Map’s new street view option exploded in my head: I had been staring at a 360 degree panorama of this street corner for months. Needless to say, I felt confident as to where I was going.
Upon entering the appropriate building we encountered Maria, a small and seemingly frail elderly woman who showed us through an inner garden to our apartment, escorting us into the tiniest elevator I had ever experienced (two would need to ride face to face as there was really no room for turning around). It was with great joy that we inspected the apartment, and even greater satisfaction when we threw the windows wide: pure Paris!
I can feel the creative juices percolating within.
VIDEO: 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.
VIDEO: 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.