Monday, April 16, 2018

Some Vanishing Photographs

Here are in progress studio and process photographs from the last three weeks. More on the Robert Heinecken series soon as I am writing the artist statement in the next week or two.







Sunday, April 1, 2018

Eggs: Year Six


Cristina Bartley Dominguez, From the series Stuck in Limbo


Horacio Coppola, Still Life with Egg and Twine, 1932


Imogen Cunningham, Five Eggs, 1951


Susana Reisman, One and the Same, After Hilla and Bernd Becher

Friday, March 30, 2018

Final Friday, David Owsley Museum of Art


There are two things that I agree to do because they are personal challenges: public speaking and written publications in the form of reviews or essays. Last week I "performed" my second Pecha Kucha in half a decade by speed reading (because there was no other way to get through it) information about twenty slides that were shown for twenty seconds apiece. The theme was "Beginnings" after the Richard Diebenkorn exhibition on display in the museum's galleries.


I translated "beginning" as an opening, an introduction, an origin, a source. The first time we do something can reverberate into the present. The images above represent an early artist's book and the current one in progress and "The First Series that Changed Everything: Aunt Eleanor." Others included "the first time I suspected something was amiss in the Interlibrary Loan Department," "the first time I broke the law for art and the last," "the first series that has nothing to do with photography," and "the first time obsessive counting became part of my art practice." 

Photographs courtesy of Jordan Huffer and the David Owsley Museum of Art

Sunday, March 25, 2018

"Cartographies of Time: A History of the Timeline"


This book has moved from various studios and at this stage, two different coffee tables, for a couple years now. It was stained from an accidental red wine spill and the discoloration goes well with the subject matter (words I never thought I would utter). In a Herculean effort this spring to finish projects that are essentially complete but require a few days of concentrated effort in front of the computer, it was time to revisit it this morning.


As I press forward with the completion of Camden's Rock: 2012 - 2017, I have become fascinated with the presentation of chronological timelines from the past, whether they are pocket-sized (as in the top image) or scrolls. This chart above from the late 1870s was sold as an accordion book and on rollers for wall mounting. I am curious how such a large amount of information can be stored in a compact manner.


Conversely, this little red scroll is nearly two inches wide and is one of the smallest that was ever published. The Stream of Time on the bottom is wound on a roller in a box which has great appeal in terms of protection and a method of reading that will not cause stress to the paper.


Of all the objects presented in Cartographies of Time, Jacques Barbeu-Dubourg's Chronographie universelle was the one that I wanted most to see in person (and hold). The paper is mounted on cranks and enclosed in a little case that reminds me of something one would find in a printmaking studio.

I am not sure what Camden's Rock will look like when it is done but I can say that it's a 2.2 GB file that is 630" long with 83 images and as of this weekend, it is finally edited and assembled and sent to the designer to fill in the text. Nearly every part of that sentence is huge.

Friday, March 23, 2018

"Autobiography in Water" is finally complete ...

... and it feels so good to only be working on eight series instead of nine. I exhibited the artwork as part of a sabbatical show in November and updated the website last week. Here are some highlights from the Atrium Gallery at Ball State University in November 2017.


Thunderbird Hotel, Marfa, Texas, 2013 (printed on Photo Tex vinyl at 100" x 150" - such a treat to see this photograph so large though hanging vinyl was stressful)


Also, I was fortunate to collaborate with Jacqueline Suskin who contributed three poems to the exhibition (after sending her images, she responded, I printed her poems and mounted them alongside the photographs).


Rebecca Solnit quote, Redfish Lake, Idaho, 2014 - 2015, Thunderbird Hotel, Marfa, Texas, 2013, Cape Disappointment, Washington, 2014 - 2015, and Cape Horn, Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho, 2014 - 2015


Neptune Pool, Hearst Castle, San Simeon, California, 2014 - 2015, San Solomon Springs, Balmorhea, Texas, 2013, The Springs, Idaho City, Idaho, 2014, Drekkingarhylur, Iceland, 2015 - 2016, and Miracle Hot Springs, Buhl, Idaho, 2014


Key West, Florida, 2015 - 2017, Kirkham Hot Springs, Idaho, 2015, Perth, Australia, 2017, Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada and Fjallsjökull Glacial Lagoon, Iceland, 2014 - 2016 and the "islands"


Drekkingarhylur, Iceland, 2015 - 2016


The "islands": Rolla Island, Doubtful Sound, New Zealand, 2016, Rooster Rock, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon, nd, Fisherman Island, Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho, 2014, and Columbia River Gorge, Oregon, nd


Key West, Florida, 2015 - 2017 (archival pigment print displayed underneath a plexi-glass box filled with water - every other day it was topped off)


Arizona Inn, Tucson, Arizona, 2016 - 2017 (1:33 video - the biggest technical accomplishment), Lake Tahoe, California, 2016 - 2017, and a slide show of Coronado, Del Mar and La Jolla Coves, San Diego, California, 2015 - 2017


Detail from the slide show of La Jolla Coves, San Diego, California, 2015 - 2017


Lake Tahoe, California, 2016 - 2017


Gallery talk (photo by Jennifer Halvorson), November 2017


The sad process of de-installation, November 2017


De-install continued...


All the vinyl text from the walls

Here is hoping I find another location to exhibit it (with a lot of help hanging and weeding vinyl from my friends).

Friday, March 16, 2018

Beatrix Reinhardt's "On the Rocks: Landscapes of Greenland" and Other Thoughts

I am slowly gathering information on artists creating work about global warming, specifically in the Arctic Circle. My friend, Colin Edgington, suggested I look into Beatrix Reinhardt's photographs of Greenland from 2007, ten years prior to my visit.


Beatrix Reinhardt, Untitled, 2007 

From Beatrix's website: "This Disorder and order are in constant flux, as the landscape expresses grandeur or devastation, oppression or dynamism."


Beatrix Reinhardt, Untitled, 2007

  

Beatrix Reinhardt, Untitled, 2007

I quickly found that it was difficult not to take a photograph of Greenland like everyone else's. Perhaps it is all so foreign that we are attracted to the same subject matter. 


Jacinda Russell, En route to Sermermiut, 2017

After selecting Reinhardt's photographs for this post, I thumbed through my journal from June 2017. 

"First impression: LUNAR."

The last entry:
"I will never, ever forget the impact of the icebergs, the air quality in the UNESCO World Heritage site, the best water I have EVER tasted (even better than Iceland), BUT there is also the trash, the cigarette butts that have never been disposed of in a place other than the ground, the exhaust from the few cars that are driven [only 90 miles of roads in the whole country, 40 of which are paved], and the poverty."

In my quest for the "metaphorical antipode," this country of extremes offers diametrical opposites within its own borders (as referenced in Reinhardt's quote above). So begins the search for more photographs that indicate that.

A Book I Must Own


A List of Art Which Would Be Destroyed If Ed Ruscha's Painting 'Los Angeles County Museum on Fire' Became Reality Today by Michael Crowe, 2011


There are so many things to love about this booklet: yet another artwork inspired by Ed Ruscha (I am keeping track), a list, definite numbers, a conceptual project that incorporates both art and writing, email correspondence with a librarian, ETC.


Then I discovered that he and Lenka Clayton, my favorite artist who incorporates a typewriter (and lists, and found objects and and and), are "art partners" who have been collaborating on Mysterious Letters since 2011.


From Lenka's website: "Michael Crowe and I are in the middle of writing a unique hand-written (or hand-typed) letter to every household in the world. So far we have written over 2,700 different letters to the residents of Cushendall, a small Northern Irish seaside town, the inhabitants of Polish Hill, Pittsburgh, everyone on a long street through St. Gallen, Switzerland, a suburb of Cologne, Germany, two streets in Paris France, and many, many people in Tilburg, Netherlands. Each letter is different, and where possible personally addressed. We sign them "love Michael & Lenka", and write in a chatty, friendly tone about topics of possible mutual interest; the weather, gentleness, Roseanne, etc."

Welcome to this evening's rabbit hole.

Monday, September 18, 2017

This is Happening Wednesday


Arts Center Lecture Hall, 2400 E. Kenwood Boulevard, University of Wisconsin Milwaukee

It's been a minute (rather 3,732,276 minutes or 7 years, 1 month and 7 days ago) since I was last in Milwaukee. Hannah and I were driving through after floating the last of the styrofoam cakes in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I am looking forward to returning!

Sunday, April 16, 2017

NYC Field Trip - March 2017



Mateo López, Undo List at the Drawing Center

Lately, I am enamored by small gestures and found several of them on a school field trip to New York City. López's ruler, in which all the numbers had fallen off only to be drawn on the sheet of paper below, was a highlight. If my main medium was drawing, I would strive to make art like his (also similar to this in concept).


Chance encounter in the Sky Room at the New Museum - a woman crouching to photograph a toy dinosaur - her form resembling the plastic creature itself. The room, bathed in white light, hints at the mountains of snow melting in the city below.


Raymond Pettibon, A Pen of All Work at the New Museum

I could stand all day in the "wave room" engulfed by Pettibon's large-scale drawings, perhaps finally understanding what it would feel like to surf a pipeline (via words not action). It was the sentiment of the phrase that made me feel small in the midst of overwhelming blue.


These are not Duane Hanson sculptures. Despite the controversy (we were there during the first Dana Schutz protest), this was the best Whitney Biennial I had ever seen and am thankful for its diversity and references to current times. The reaction above was the exact opposite of mine yet I appreciate seeing others sleeping in public where people had no reservations documenting it.


Toiletpaper Paradise at the Cadillac House

This was not a small gesture - rather an immersive experience into the Toiletpaper world I continue to respond to each month on Instagram. I am grateful that the rest of the gang enjoyed it as much as I did. Seeing flat photographs come to life in three-dimensional (and often functional form) was an eye-opener in various modes of presentation.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Behind the Scenes of the First Antipode Photograph


In January, Amelia and I ventured into the cold and discovered many globes at Midland Antique Mall in Indianapolis. I have a $10 rule (one of the reasons why I have not acquired many new ones in the last couple years) and most of them were beyond that price range.


One caught my eye and I surrendered to the higher price of $14 but not without a lot of angst as to whether or not I wanted to destroy it. It helped that it was in sorry shape and fell apart at the cash register. That piece of tape held the two pieces together like a pro, however, as it was the stand that collapsed immediately.


I am continuing my love affair with responding to Toiletpaper Magazine's calendar in 2017 on Instagram and knew that in addition to creating a new photograph, it would be a "twice used prop" as March featured one of my favorite Maurizio Cattelan and Pierpaolo Ferrari's images [above] as first seen on the cover of The New York Times Magazine.


My sphere was black and I had no intention of matching the exterior color. I tried to guess the most appropriate ocean blue while at the hardware store without a globe in front of me (I should know better by now as I was wildly off). I asked the man at the paint counter how much I should buy and he thought a quart would fill it. I was deeply skeptical and opted for a gallon instead.


Two people had recently sent me this link on how globes were made in the 1950s so I was not that surprised to see this was how the interior was constructed.


I plugged the hole in Antarctica with duct tape and after extensive contemplation, hoped this towel and plastic sheet method would hold the globe still, not toppling over onto the floor and backdrop the moment I poured the paint.


I had the wherewithal to photograph the unhappy moment when I realized that a gallon was not enough [insert lots of swearing here]. I scrambled all over the building trying to resolve this issue, all the while knowing that this was a cardboard structure and my time was limited.


This did not work...


... but the very scary filling it with 100 ounces of water and stirring it did. Unfortunately, it was not easy to move and my compositions were limited but it did produce a hue that looked more like "globe water."


I was able to make 16 responses as a "twice used prop" before I threw everything away. One of my colleagues told me I looked like I was hauling body parts out of the building in trash bags. I still have the top half and wonder what role it will play in the future.