strap-ons

At Lawrimore Project, Wynne Greenwood has two chalky pink TVs in the gallery courting each other wearing painted-on strap-ons. They’re flashing abstract imagery at each other as they sit on the floor sort of clumsy and cyber-sexy at the same time.

photo borrowed from Jen Graves

My highlight of First Thursday last night was meeting Wynne (who is lovely), seeing her Strap-on TVs, and witnessing an exchange between Scott Lawrimore and a hapless art viewer (“what are these? you can’t even pick them up!”) in which Scott demonstrated through miming what a strap-on is.

The guy was not as satisfied with the demonstration as everyone else was, and asked to see the “flyer that goes with the art.”

Incidentally, Scott Lawrimore is doing really nice work with his new space and the “flyers that go with the art.” Each show in the white small space is being paired with thoughtful writing about the work as well as a page from Stéphane Mallarmé’s Un Coup de Dés.

My impression of the new Lawrimore Project is that while the physical space has shrunk exponentially, the work of/by Lawrimore Project is much bigger.  Part of this is due to the fact that Scott Lawrimore has big plans that include opening a satellite space in Berlin and an artist residency program in Seattle; his overarching goal is to bring Seattle artists out of Seattle and outside artists in. He is also thinking about how to facilitate the conversations that can/will happen when these displacements happen. This is so much what Seattle needs, and very exciting.

Additionally, I think the pairing of the work with writing contributes to this feeling of the gallery being somehow bigger. There is this small space, and some art, and some writing that can serve as a view into the art if you want it to. With no other distractions, it’s a simple pairing that is surprisingly fulfilling if you let it be. The gallery director is present, unshielded by staff, desk, computer. He will happily talk about art with you and will even demonstrate what a strap-on is, if necessary.

Julie Alpert’s Little Paintings

Julie Alpert has a bunch of mysterious, sweet, mean little paintings hanging in the backspace of Soil this month. I’m specifying that they’re “little” because their size does something to invite you into an intimate world.

They’re also little compared to Alpert’s typically big, space-encompassing site-specific installations.

With both the paintings and the installations, bits of environmental information mate with a chosen aesthetic to offer a narrative that straddles fiction and nonfiction. A window frame might be exaggerated and multiplied, or the bricks of a house might tumble off to bloom in the street. Alpert’s sensibility is both delicate and assertive; or perhaps she’s asserting the intricate delicacies that surround us.

I do feel, looking at these paintings of backyards, that I’m being shown an intensified glimpse of what’s really there. There is wonder in this giant cloaked thing.

There are voyeuristic rewards to be had here, peering into the parts of people’s yards that they think are just for them. Sunlight splashes around shamelessly and trees take on map-like shapes. The compositions are driven by a depth in perspective, and the color is pitch-perfect. We are clearly being invited/seduced into these odd, semi-private spaces with sheds and tarps and backyard detritus. It is more than enough if all we do once we get there is look.

Bahogkins

Jeff McGrath‘s backspace show (at SOIL) called Bahogkins was Ken Kelly’s pick for the City Art’s First Thursday awards.  I love that a guy who does this

chose this

as his favorite work of the art walk. At the after party Kelly explained for a moment why he chose McGraths’s show, and while I don’t remember exactly what he said, I think he touched on that weird, refreshing limbo this work puts you in. There is no safety net of easy sophistication, though the sophistication is there. There is also humor, and also just an honest peek into McGrath’s work and play. These critters are not trying to be anything they’re not, and what they are is exuberant and true, but undefinable. Are they forest boogers, perched on logs for you to find and admire? Or Hobbit turds, as the show title and font choice might suggest? They are friendly, messy little things that are almost embarrassing with their show of affection. Thanks, Bahogkins.

A gay day at SOIL

It was a hot, sweaty Saturday Talk at SOIL last week when we new members talked briefly about our work. I could be wrong, but I think SOIL might have been all hetero before this round of homos joined this year.  It was nice/interesting to see common yearnings in our work. All three of the gay members present for the talk (one bear couldn’t make it) are making work about our sexual identities, histories, and relationships. And, all three of us are using somewhat abstract means to do this. Also, I think talking comfortably about these things in a gallery setting is relatively new to all of us.

Chris Buening talked about how Mad Dog is a kind of abstract “portrait” of his fifteen-year-old self drunk on a date with his much older boyfriend.

Derrick Jefferies found the body for Anatomy in cinnamon and mint chewing gum, stretched and and molded together to shape sinews and nakedness.

I’m using The Song of Songs from the Bible as a way to paint the trajectory of my love song to my wife and son.

Related: Erin Shafkind’s take on the Saturday Talk.

Magic, Chance, Gifts (Bang, Universe, Everything)

Decoy, 2010

Chauney Peck’s solo show at SOIL is lovely with its titling. Bang, Universe, Everything pays homage to the special object, which may be given as a gift. It attempts to measure the incomprehension of a nuclear bomb. It grants shelter to a duck, cozy with chopped colored wood in its abdomen, perched on battered wood with toxic orange markings.

To create the sculptural works in the show, Chauney followed directions given to her by chance cards that she made. Drawn and collaged upon playing cards, they say things like “thin bricks” or “cardboard or “NOT CENTER.”

The works on paper are based on the USA’s atom bomb test sites in the 1940′s and 50′s. Inhabitants of islands in the South Pacific were told to leave because the U.S. government was going to blow up their home. {By the way, U.S. government (as I’m sure you read this blog), what is the point of “testing” a nuclear bomb? What’s the worst thing that could happen? That it might not work? That the destruction wouldn’t be complete enough?} Not comprehending this undeniable force threatening to wipe out their universe, the people appropriately concluded “A powerful new god is coming.”

A Powerful New God is Coming, 2010

Chauney has let magic into her show by offering some of her work as gifts. (If you would like a gift from her show, you can contact her. At the end of the show, she’ll randomly select a recipient for each of the sculpture “offerings.”) In Bang, Universe, Everything, fourteen of the thirty pieces are offerings and the remaining sixteen are for sale.

Here, she talks about gift-giving: “I’ve recently received gifts made of wood, like driftwood carved into the shape of a gun.  Those interactions have a power and energy that is vastly different than going out and buying a something made of wood.  I’m a reading a book called ‘the gift’ by lewis hyde where he talks about the hunters that go out and kill ten birds.  They take eight to their families and give two to the priest.  The priest eats one and prepares the other as a talisman or an offering.  He gives it back to the forest to make the birds come back next time they go hunting.  It’s a humble gesture and a reflection of their gratitude towards nature. Similarly, it makes me happy to give an offering, and if you receive one hopefully, you will give something to someone else.  You don’t expect anything in return except a vague karmic return from the universe.  It’s about giving thanks and moving energy around continually. Giving my chance sculptures as offerings is a formal gesture that reflects my belief that art is gift that can keep returning.”

It was interesting to notice that the way I looked at the work actually changed when I realized I might actually get to have one. The object, and its possible transference to me, already felt magical. I’ve long struggled with the retail identity of the art objects I make, and I love the solution Chauney created for this show. It’s not a senseless free-for-all; rather, she thoughtfully measures randomness and decisiveness to counteract some of the inherent power of commerce in art. People’s wishes are noted and the work is then randomly dispersed. In the end, Chauney will have actually had more control over who will own her work than the artist in the typical commercial transaction. Likewise, the offerings themselves, which were created within a prescribed vocabulary of chance, emanate a calm control. Their precise, tender arrangements make a quiet space where one might wait for a powerful new God that is coming.

demystification in the works

There’s something really interesting happening on Grey Gallery’s blog. The process of gathering artists for inclusion in a juried show has been made transparent.

5×5 will be a show of five local artists chosen by five non-local jurors. Grey Gallery chose the jurors (artists and curators from California, New York, Miami), and then put a call out for local emerging artists to submit images for review. All 88 of the entries are posted on Grey’s blog, for all to see.

Of all of the juried shows I’ve applied for (I applied for this one), I’ve never been made privy to the pool of applicants. I usually prepare my application and then send it off to be dealt with behind closed doors. Sometimes I get an acceptance letter, often a rejection letter, sometimes I never hear back at all. From start to finish, the process is a mystery with the artist left in the dark. I’ve learned to equate the act of mailing my application (with application fee) to lighting it on fire. Then if I get an acceptance letter, I can enjoy genuine surprise; “Oh, hey! I did apply for this, didn’t I!”

After twelve years of participating in this covert operation, I find Grey’s approach mighty refreshing. I’m enjoying looking at all the artists’ works, reading their bios and statements. It’s fascinating to see art worlds innocently butting up against each other in the format of a blog entry.

No. 69

Now Grey is asking everyone to join the conversation around this project by commenting on the blog. You can say which artists you would pick for the show! Here are some of my favorites:

No. 12

No. 55

No. 84

No. 27

No. 24

No. 42

I wonder if the gallery is going to make the jury’s decision-making process public on the blog as well. If they do, it will be an exciting and satisfying conclusion to this exercise in transparency.

Nicholas Nyland at SOIL

{Nicholas Nyland, Garland, 2009, Acrylic on paper, grommets, rope, Dimensions variable}

I really love these weird creations of Nicholas Nyland‘s that are hanging/drooping/slouching in the back room of SOIL this month. I’m not sure if it’s Painting as an awkward teenager or Painting as a sometimes incontinent yet cheerful elderly person. Not really funny, but endearing and slightly embarrassing. One of the objects is like this big tongue perched on the wall– part painting, part sculpture. Another (Garland, above) might want to sway gracefully like a Calder mobile, but its parts get in the way.

What’s left in Seattle when you take out Culture? (4Culture is slated to die in two years.)

4Culture –arguably the cultural aorta of Seattle (if not the region)– will lose its primary source of funding in 2012. If it doesn’t have funding, 4Culture will die. From 4Culture’s website: “4Culture provides funding for support of the visual and performing arts, heritage programs and historic preservation. Annual funding supports the activities of more than 250 arts and heritage organizations, hundreds of artists and heritage specialists, capital construction projects and equipment purchases, new arts and heritage projects, and cultural education in public schools.”

It’s frightening to imagine what this city (or any city) would look like without all of these things.

The employees of 4Culture have been doing everything they can to advocate for the change of the legislation that has their funding ending in 2012. They’ve driven to Olympia to stand in courtrooms, written letters, initiated advocacy forums, and waited anxiously for funding to be extended. It hasn’t worked, and time is running out.

If enough people act, it might be possible re-establish funding and effectively SAVE 4Culture.

How YOU can help:

blog: Advocate4Culture.blogspot.com

email:   Advocate4Culture@gmail.com

facebook: Advocate4Culture

twitter: advocate4cultur

Making the Magic of Painting, One Piece of Paint at a Time: Margie Livingston at Greg Kucera

How much space is a painting allowed to take up? is the question that was raised for me as I walked through Margie Livingston‘s show at Greg Kucera. Walking through is what you do in this show. The space of these paintings is the gallery space, and you are a part of it. The “paintings” are on the wall, or stacked in thin lines, or suspended from the ceiling. Margie has turned the content of her paintings inside out, exposing her painting process as living, changing, and sculptural.

Paint line (Detail), 2009, Acrylic and steel cable, 2.5 x 2.5 x 192 inches

Large drape, 2009, Acrylic, stainless steel wire and monofilament, 90 x 90 x 90 inches

Her dedication to painting is lovingly evident in the labor of the sculptures, which are made of paint. By painstakingly stacking dried blobs of acrylic from floor to ceiling, she makes a painted line– one that would have taken two seconds to make with wet paint on a surface. Through an elaborate system of wires hanging from the ceiling, she wills a web of elastic white paint to assert itself against gravity, encouraging it to take up space. It’s as though the paint has been forced from the canvas into “room air” and must now be on life support in order to survive. In her hands, and in this space, it’s not only surviving– it’s thriving.

Big yellow, 2009, Oil on linen, 90 x 66 inches

Me + You + December

I usually put stuff about my own work on my other blog, but right now there are several things happening that I’d like to invite you to.

Right NOW – December 11th:

The ownership of my piñata is up for grabs for Strangercrombie.

December 11th:

Matt Offenbacher and Margie Livingston have invited me and about 30 other painters to talk for five minutes each at The Henry about paintings we love right now. It’s a “Seattle Painters Mini-Symposium” because “painting is awesome, interesting, central to contemporary art discourse, and we’re doing it here in Seattle.” Let’s talk about Painting!

{left to right, top to bottom; some of the participating painters: Margie Livingston, Joey Veltkamp, Ken Kelly, Kimberly Trowbridge, Nicholas Nyland, Matt Offenbacher, Eric Elliott, Susanna Bluhm, Robert Hardgrave}

December 12th:

I’m opening my studio in Georgetown during the Georgetown Art Attack. Come see my new paintings and have some cookies!