Sunday, March 29, 2020

Stumbling through uncertain times by maintaining a creative practice

It is nearly a year and a half since my last post. 
Since that time, I have lived through the decline and death of a beloved parent, but I have also rebounded in the studio with renewed vitality. A more vibrant palette has emerged in my paintings, and my drawings have moved past stillness and control and entered a space filled with spontaneity. Until a few weeks ago, I was busy in the studio, preparing for my next solo exhibit of paintings, looking forward to showing a series drawings, and starting the process of curating a group show.  

But now....  everything has changed. 
We stand surrounded by uncertainty.  All routines have been paused, and for far too many people what was routine will never return.    Since there is no clear path to follow, we try to find ways to stumble through this uncertain time. We try to hold fast to what is familiar and feels safe, while allowing for the possibility / probability that there are moments when we will be in free fall.  How might we regain our footing? Will we regain our footing? No one can say. For many, the uncertainty is terrifying.

*   *   *   *   *   *

As a visual artist, I’m familiar with spending long hours in social isolation stumbling around in the studio.  It is my way of getting lost so I can uncover where the work wants to take me. Although stumbling out in the world can be perilous, stumbling in the studio is not a place that scares me.

Since it is no longer sensible or safe for me to make the daily trek to my studio, I cannot sit surrounded by my paintings and drawings to contemplate where the work is heading.  Now confined to my apartment, I’ve set up a small workspace where I can draw.  While I can maintain my studio practice to some extent, the changes in my workspace along with the swirling uncertainty outside have disrupted the path I was on. 


The first 8 drawings in this post are from one notebook of approximately 70 pages. 
The entire notebook (8.5 x 5.5") was completed over several hours on March 27, 2020.  
The drawings are not presented in the order they appear in the notebook.
Charcoal, graphite, oil pastel. 









I am stumbling as I begin drawing in my home workspace. However, I feel safe despite the uncertainty of the process. 
I have experienced this many times before, although the current circumstances are completely different. Of course, while some of the mark-making in these notebooks reflects vocabulary I have been using for the past year,  there are many pages that bring me to unfamiliar places.  But I feel safe because I know that allowing myself to get lost will help me find my way. I know that the vocabulary I have developed over decades of practice will keep me grounded, even as I may break from it. I know that I can allow myself to go into free fall because if I keep going, page after page after page, I will uncover what wants to be said in the work. I may reach that place in a few days or a few weeks, or not for several months. But I keep going because it keeps me grounded. 

In this way, for a few hours spent in quiet isolation each day, I can take comfort surrounded by boxes of charcoal, conté crayons, and oil pastels, along with a stack of blank notebooks.  It will help me stay anchored until I have no choice but to return to stumbling through the crisis we all face.


Several pages from the same notebook. 









Several drawings completed in the weeks before I began working from home in mid-March.  
Graphite and oil pastel.















Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Explorations in Line / notes from a first-time curator


Over many years of wandering through exhibits of contemporary work, there have been numerous group shows that leave me nodding in recognition of the wonderful conversations taking place on the gallery walls. It is so very satisfying when a curator's decisions offer me new insights into what I am looking at. But there are also occasions where I leave a gallery scratching my head, struggling to understand what led to the selection of the work. While I might engage with specific works in the exhibit, I still wonder why they are hanging together. A curator's statement may help me see connections that I had missed on my own, but sometimes it is difficult to discern how what is on the walls reflects what is in the statement.

That got me wondering..... How do curators go about their work? Where do they start -- with the ideas or with the art? How do they move from selecting the work to exhibit to articulating a clear vision about that work? What is the role of a curator's statement? I decided to investigate, not only by speaking with artists who have curated exhibits, but by jumping in and organizing a show. For this post, I am focusing on my experience as curator of "Explorations in Line", currently on exhibit at the Garrison Art Center, NY. For anyone who has already curated exhibits, my observations are likely familiar and obvious. 



Drawings by Tamar Zinn (left) and photographs by Tenesh Webber (right) at the Garrison Art Center


My starting point for this exhibit was my own work, specifically the drawings about line that I've done for the past five years. I've been thinking about and making lines for quite some time.... decades actually. As a teenager doing my first figure drawings, I preferred the quick sketches -- capturing a pose in two minutes or less. What held me enthralled was the gesture, the movement of my hand to make the line. Although I did my share of thoughtfully developed studies of the figure, those drawings felt more like technical accomplishments, and as such, didn't particularly interest me once they were completed. Line as a reflection of emotion, line that captured an action, a line that was the action.... that is what I found engaging. Why not curate an exhibit around line?  
Step 1 (which should have been obvious but wasn't) as artist / curator: think about what interests me in my own work.

After that, I began compiling images from artists whose work I was already familiar with that incorporated line in some significant way. Paintings, drawings, sculpture, photographs -- all readily available online, which made this initial task easy. And then I started looking, looking, looking at what I had accumulated....  and the images sorted themselves into two groups -- maybe and no. It was only at that point that I tried to understand why some pieces held my attention, but not others.  Step 2: look first, think later.


Opening night: Tamar Zinn, Jaanika Peerna, and Tenesh Webber. On the wall, Jaanika Peerna: Withheld, and Tamar Zinn: drawings from the Pavane series.  (Photo by Harry Wilks)


Of course, curating is about noticing. I looked at the work again and again, to see beyond my first impressions. At that point I started to write notes about what I saw, thinking about the what, why, and how of each artist's work, and searching for a way to articulate my observations with clarity. As the maybe group gradually shrank to a manageable size, I started reading. Artists' websites sometimes provided a wealth of information, sometimes not so much.
Step 3: take notes about my observations and start reading about the artists.

 
Photographs by Tenesh Webber. (For complete image information, see below)


At that point, I felt it was time to think about different iterations of an exhibit about line. What if there were 3-4 artists, whose work would I select? What would be the premise of that show? What if the exhibit included work by as many as 7-8 artists? How would that shape the focus of the show? I decided on  a show with fewer artists, which would allow for multiple pieces from each artist. I also began to discuss my plans to curate a show with several close artist friends whom I could rely on for meaningful feedback. With their help, I made the final selection of artists for my first venture as curator.  Step 4: select the artists and narrow the focus. 


Jaanika Peerna, Drooplines, 2017, graphite and colored pencil on hand-cut mylar, magnets, 24x7x8"  (photo courtesy of Jaanika Peerna)


After contacting the artists and confirming their interest in the exhibit, I began to write, as well as consider possible venues. I was lucky that I did not have to do a lot of research to find a venue, because a friend let me know about an upcoming deadline to submit proposals to the Garrison Art Center. That meant that the language for the proposal would have to come together very quickly. Fortunately, the notes I had already written provided a framework for the proposal, and I had already gathered images to include. Proposal submitted, it was now time to wait.
Step 5: seek out venues and write a proposal.

A few months after submitting the proposal, I received word that it had been accepted and that the exhibition would take place a year later. That gave me more than enough time to study the floor plan for the space, print out scaled images to tape onto a model, arrange, re-arrange, and arrange once again. I was already familiar with the gallery space, but I visited once again to try and picture the work in the space. Since I had already seen Tenesh Webber's photographs on exhibit, and I was certain of which work I wanted to include, I made my selection from her website. I had also seen Jaanika Peerna's work on exhibit and had made a preliminary selection, but decided to do a studio visit so I could see additional work. As it turned out, I ultimately went with my initial selection for Jaanika's work as well. 
Step 6: make the final selection of works, and lay out the exhibition.

Jaanika Peerna, Withheld, 2017, water soluble pigment on hand-cut mylar, magnets, 88x17x7"   (photo courtesy of Jaanika Peerna)

With the work selected, what remained was for me the most challenging part -- writing a curator's statement that would be meaningful for me and be useful for viewers. I had read many superb statements that enhanced my understanding of the exhibits, as well as many that left me mystified. The language that would shape my statement came slowly and went through many, many, many iterations. Once again, I was fortunate to have an artist friend (who is also a superb editor) give me feedback in crafting the statement.
Step 7: write the curator's statement

These are the opening paragraphs of my curator's statement:  

 “Explorations in Line” highlights the vital role of line in the work of three contemporary abstract artists. Working in sculpture, photography, and drawing, Jaanika Peerna, Tenesh Webber, and Tamar Zinn use line as a thing unto itself, an embodiment of thought and sensation, rather than as a means to depict form. Having chosen to make line central to their work, all three artists employ a stripped-down, largely monochromatic palette. By limiting the palette primarily to black and white, with occasional hints of other colors, the artists allow viewers to immerse themselves more fully in all that their lines express. For these artists a line may manifest breath, communicate movement, embody emotion, or reflect natural phenomena. In “Explorations in Line,” some lines declare themselves soloists, while others dance –- and sometimes wrestle –- with one another. These lines transform the space they inhabit and shape how we perceive that space. Peerna’s dimensional use of cut mylar gives her lines a palpable physical presence, Webber’s threadlines leave their trace on exposed photographic paper, while Zinn's paired lines are gently embedded in indeterminate space. Each artist’s line is deeply personal, not only in what it conveys, but in the nature of its making.
The exhibit offers viewers the opportunity to observe the artists’ conscious decisions about a line's direction, weight, and speed. Peerna’s lines, which begin as strong verticals drawn on a flat plane, transform when the drawing is shaped into sculpture. The repeated translucent lines curve, loop, and fold back on themselves, seemingly without beginning or end. Webber’s delicate lines meander across a black field and present as a grid on a photographic image. Although periodically disrupted, the fragile networks of lines are seemingly held in place. Zinn's dark lines move leisurely across an atmospheric field, but their weight imbues them with conviction, as well as suggesting that they continue on beyond the field’s edge. While Peerna's lines are drawn using spontaneous full-body movements, Zinn rehearses her gestures in the air in anticipation of marking each pair of lines on the paper, and Webber incorporates chance actions into her arrays. 
  
The complete curator's statement is below (after the exhibit images), and also provides information the intention and process of each artist.

Tenesh Webber, Clear View 2, 2016, silver gelatin print, 20x20"


Tenesh Webber, Loose String 1, 2013, silver gelatin print, 20x20"
Tenesh Webber, Lift Version 2, 2015, silver gelatin print, 11x11"


Tenesh Webber, Loops 1, 2015, silver gelatin print, 11x11"

Tenesh Webber, Quake, 2015, silver gelatin print, 11x11"



Of course, if you plan an exhibit, people have to know about it. So I started planning the publicity, and limited it to social media and an email blast. Next up was the installation. Although I had made a detailed layout for the exhibit, I had no prior experience actually hanging a show. I was fortunate that the gallery coordinator at Garrison Art Center, Samantha Palmieri, took over that task after we arranged the work in the gallery. It was thrilling to see what I had envisioned less than 18 months earlier come together in the space. It was everything I had imagined, and even better.
Step 8: start the PR work for the show 
Step 9: deliver the work and install the show

My first experience curating an exhibit has all been positive -- I had support from friends, worked with artists who came through reliably, and gallery staff that was professional. I know it won't always go this smoothly, but I'm ready for the next step.
Step 10: start thinking about the next exhibit.


Tamar Zinn, Pavane 26, 2017, pigmented charcoal and conte crayon on paper, 16x9"

Tamar Zinn, Pavane 18, 2017, pigmented charcoal and conte crayon on paper, 16x9"

Tamar Zinn, Pavane 41, 2017, pigmented charcoal and conte crayon on paper, 16x9"


Tamar Zinn, Pavane 30, 2017, pigmented charcoal and conte crayon on paper, 16x9"


Tamar Zinn, Pavane 21, 2017, pigmented charcoal and conte crayon on paper, 1x9"

Tamar Zinn, Pavane 13, 2017, pigmented charcoal and conte crayon on paper, 16x9"

My curator's statement:
 
 “Explorations in Line” highlights the vital role of line in the work of three contemporary abstract artists. Working in sculpture, photography, and drawing, Jaanika Peerna, Tenesh Webber, and Tamar Zinn use line as a thing unto itself, an embodiment of thought and sensation, rather than as a means to depict form. Having chosen to make line central to their work, all three artists employ a stripped-down, largely monochromatic palette. By limiting the palette primarily to black and white, with occasional hints of other colors, the artists allow viewers to immerse themselves more fully in all that their lines express. For these artists a line may manifest breath, communicate movement, embody emotion, or reflect natural phenomena. In “Explorations in Line,” some lines declare themselves soloists, while others dance –- and sometimes wrestle –- with one another. These lines transform the space they inhabit and shape how we perceive that space. Peerna’s dimensional use of cut mylar gives her lines a palpable physical presence, Webber’s threadlines leave their trace on exposed photographic paper, while Zinn's paired lines are gently embedded in indeterminate space. Each artist’s line is deeply personal, not only in what it conveys, but in the nature of its making.
The exhibit offers viewers the opportunity to observe the artists’ conscious decisions about a line's direction, weight, and speed. Peerna’s lines, which begin as strong verticals drawn on a flat plane, transform when the drawing is shaped into sculpture. The repeated translucent lines curve, loop, and fold back on themselves, seemingly without beginning or end. Webber’s delicate lines meander across a black field and present as a grid on a photographic image. Although periodically disrupted, the fragile networks of lines are seemingly held in place. Zinn's dark lines move leisurely across an atmospheric field, but their weight imbues them with conviction, as well as suggesting that they continue on beyond the field’s edge. While Peerna's lines are drawn using spontaneous full-body movements, Zinn rehearses her gestures in the air in anticipation of marking each pair of lines on the paper, and Webber incorporates chance actions into her arrays.
                 Jaanika Peerna’s sculpture is a direct response to natural phenomena of light, air, and water. Peerna begins by drawing lines on frosted Mylar with a series of vigorous, physical movements, then alters the lines by sweeping across them with a damp, oversized brush. She then systemically slices across the drawn lines, creating a series of parallel strips that she subsequently shapes into three-dimensional forms. As the sculpture responds to the forces of gravity, the lines droop, bend and flow. Her lines become the space, rather than merely inhabiting it. Peerna’s sculptures are further transformed by light and shadow, as well as by the changing position of the viewer. For Peerna, each piece is a manifestation of flux—ever changing, never static.
In the work of Tenesh Webber, the interplay between technical control and chance manipulations is a central element. Working within a minimalist sensibility and aligned with improvisational abstraction, Webber takes the controlled structure of the grid as a starting point and then allows unplanned operations to direct the outcome. Using a process that blurs the boundaries among sculpture, drawing, and photography, Webber manipulates and layers Japanese beading thread to create a grid, which is then placed onto photographic paper and exposed to light. In the resulting image, called a photogram, white lines are set against a seemingly endless black field. Although the image is fixed, the disruption to the network of filaments creates a sense of impermanence, of structures distorted, but unbroken.
                  Tamar Zinn’s drawings are rooted in her deeply emotional connections to both classical music and modern dance. Recollections of intertwining lines of music prompt a sensory response, which she transforms into a lyrical duet of gestures. Zinn begins by creating an atmospheric field, methodically rubbing layers of pigmented charcoal into the fibers of the paper. As she readies herself to draw the lines, auditory memories couple with movements of her arm above the paper. She captures the speed and shape of those movements by drawing the lines and then gently merging them into the field. Once drawn, the lines cannot be altered, making her process at once meditative and filled with risk.   

 Photos from the installation:
Jaanika Peerna installing Withheld.

Tamar Zinn and Jaanika Peerna (photo by Harry Wilks)

Saturday, January 13, 2018

Beyond Black and White @ Westbeth Gallery

In a natural world that is resplendent with color, why do so many artists produce extensive bodies of work limited to a palette of black and white? And why does this work exert such a powerful hold on our gaze?

Over the past year, there have been many exhibits focused on black and white paintings and works on paper. A brief list includes a current exhibition at The National Gallery in London, Monochrome: Painting in Black and White (both abstraction and figurative work from Rembrandt to Richter); a 2017 exhibit at The Tampa Museum of Art titled Alex Katz: Black and White; and an exhibit of exquisite black and white drawings and paintings by Dozier Bell at Danese Corey in New York. I recently posted about a 2017 exhibit at the Curator Gallery in New York, Almost Black and White.
 
Cris Gianakos (left) and Sharon Brant (right)


2018 begins with yet another exhibit devoted to painting in black and white, Beyond Black and White at Westbeth Gallery in NY.  This is a large group exhibit of black and white abstraction by 38 artists. It includes work that demonstrates a variety of preoccupations  --  paintings that are seductively austere, others that are intricately patterned, and still other paintings that focus on materiality. Curated by Li Trincere and Henry Brown, the exhibit offers a glimpse of the richness that is possible within the parameters of working in black and white. 

Michael Scott

Ken Wade


As I've written previously on this blog  (Almost Black and White, Painting in Black and White), rather than being restrictive, working with black and white can open up a world rich with possibilities for visual artists. Although the phrase 'black and white' sounds direct and clear, there is nothing simple about the decision to work in black and white.

Black isn't merely black, and white isn't just white -- either hue can be cool or warm, flat or expansive. The painted surface may be matte, reflective, chalky, silky smooth or coarsely pitted. For some of these artists, working with black and white will also mean exploring the vast arena of grays. Without the inevitable and often unwanted associations that accompany a more expansive palette, a painter is free to concentrate more fully on preoccupations with form and geometry, pattern and surface. 

This post includes a selection of the 38 paintings on exhibit. The show is up through January 27th at Westbeth Gallery, 55 Bethune Street, New York.  

Ivo Ringe

Karen Schifano

Kim Uchiyama

Mark Williams

Douglas Witmer

Lisa Beck


David Rhodes (left) and Li Trincere (right)


David Seccombe (left), Joan Witek (center), and Jean Wolff (right)


Dan Walsh

Patricia Zarate


Rene Pierre Allain (left) and Henry Brown (right)

Laura Duerwald (left) and Gelah Penn (right)

Melissa Kretschmer


Thursday, October 12, 2017

ALMOST BLACK and WHITE @ The Curator Gallery

Douglas Witmer  /  Laura Duerwald  /  Diane Tate DallasKidd

Installation view with paintings by Douglas Witmer / photo courtesy of The Curator Gallery

For readers familiar with my preoccupation with painting in black and white, it will come as no surprise that I was eager to see this exhibit. As I wrote in a post several years ago, describing a painting (or anything else for that matter) as 'black and white' appears to be straightforward. However, no matter what the context, blacks and whites are complex, varied, and often filled with subtlety. As colors in the toolbox of a visual artist, they can be warm or cool, dense or atmospheric, luminous or flat. While describing a situation as black and white suggests it can be viewed with clarity, what appears to be a black and white painting is often something quite complex. From a distance, the surface of a painting might look smooth and unarticulated, the forms within it sharp and decisive, but closer examination may reveal a painterly history of loose brushwork, blobs and scratches, as well as edges that are anything but declarative.

By shaping this exhibit around paintings that are mostly black and white, it offers an opportunity to consider what is distinctive about the intention and process of each artist, since their work is already linked by palette. This is not to suggest that the reduced palette is of little consequence, but rather that the context of the exhibit opens up additional avenues for looking at their work. It is also worth examining the role that geometry plays in the work of each of these artists as an additional thread connecting the paintings on exhibit.

Installation view with paintings by Diane Tate DallasKidd (left) and Laura Duerwalkd (right) / photo courtesy of The Curator Gallery
   
DOUGLAS WITMER
The paintings of Witmer exert a quiet, but insistent hold on this viewer. They beckon patiently and provide an opportunity for extended dialogue. Each painting opens up a broad perceptual space for those willing to take the time to engage with it and while generally intimate in size, each painting offers a sense of expansive space. Witmer's materials, limited to black gesso and acrylic on canvas, belie the complexity of the work.
 
DOUGLAS WITMER  Untitled, 2017 (left) and Untitled, 2017 (right).  black gesso and acrylic on canvas. 10 x 8" each

Witmer's geometry is most often soft-edged, and his compositions spare, lending an aura of possibility, rather than certainty. The tentative geometry along the edges of each painting indicates a preference for suggestion, which seems central to Witmer's intention. While in several paintings Witmer makes a more emphatic statement with his geometry, the thin veils of paint, matte surfaces, and subtle variations across the field express ambiguity, rather than inevitability. 

DOUGLAS WITMER  Winterbrook (six panel set), 2017   black gesso and acrylic on canvas    17x14" each

In a nod to the 'almost' in the exhibit title, one canvas by Witmer most emphatically steps beyond the limits of black and white. Considerably larger than the rest of his paintings in the exhibit When In Doubt, 2015, 48x37", has a commanding presence in the gallery. It combines a more defined geometry with an intensely saturated blue field--a seeming contradiction to the painting's title. Nonetheless, Witmer steps back from that certainty in his handling of the edges of the painting. His paintings are an invitation to wonder, rather than a directive of what to think or see.


DOUGLAS WITMER  When In Doubt, 2015  black gesso and acrylic on canvas   48 x 37"  /  photo courtesy of The Curator Gallery


LAURA DUERWALD
Duerwald has work from two series on exhibit (all dated 2017)--one boldly geometric and the other more pattern-based. Although not apparent when viewed from a distance, these paintings are actually collaged constructions (incorporating acrylic, graphite, paper, and wax over either canvas or linen). 

Installation view with paintings by LAURA DUERWALD

LAURA DUERWALD  Telemark XXVIII, 2017     graphite, acrylic, paper, wax on canvas over panel   24 x 20"
 
LAURA DUERWALD  left to right: Telemark XXIV, Telemark XXIII, Telemark XXI, 2017    acrylic, graphite, paper, wax on canvas over panel      each 16 x 12"

In contrast to Witmer's generally unobtrusive presence, Duerwald more directly demands our attention, particularly with the hard-edged geometry of the Telemark series. Her idiosyncratic black forms are balanced by white areas that are peppered with marks. While the geometry in these paintings is unequivocal, the edges of each form are nuanced and somewhat irregular, and the black fields are filled with subtle atmosphere. Duerwald balances the seeming certainty of her geometry with the ambiguity of her mark-making. 

Duerwald's Template paintings appear to loosely reference printed textiles. A wedge-like mark is repeated and varies in density as it moves across the surface. Closer examination reveals that these paintings have been painstakingly constructed through a repetitive process of painting and tearing numerous scraps of paper, and then affixing them to the canvas in gently undulating rows. Unlike the defined geometry of the Telemark paintings, these paintings have a more tentative, suggestive quality to them, despite the black and white palette.


LAURA DUERWALD  Template (Too Soon To Say Goodbye), 2017    acrylic, graphite, paper, wax on linen   42 x 60"

   LAURA DUERWALD   Detail from a Template painting


DIANE TATE DALLASKIDD
DallasKidd employs a systematic approach to her investigation of form and planes. Many of the works on exhibit depict the spatial effects of folding and flattening a rectangular, two-dimensional form. The paintings create the illusion of space as each folded and flattened sheet floats within a spare field, at times anchored along the painting's edge, but often disengaged from the edges. In an array of 9 small (8 x 10") paintings titled "Coming Undone", she offers many different manifestations of that exploration. While Duerwald's paintings are collaged constructions, DallasKidd creates illusion of collage by painting hard-edged, richly textured planes. 

DIANE TATE DALLASKIDD   Page 1, 2017   acrylic on wood panel    24 x 18"   /   photo courtesy of The Curator Gallery




DIANE TATE DALLASKIDD  Coming Undone No. 5, 2017   acrylic on wood panel   8x10"   /   photo courtesy of The Curator Gallery

DIANE TATE DALLASKIDD  Coming Undone No. 6, 2017   acrylic on wood panel   8x10"   /   photo courtesy of The Curator Gallery

Almost Black and White   /  through October 28  / The Curator Gallery   /  520 West 23rd St. NYC