Word Nerd, Revisited: the dreaded artist statement

This year, DAAPworks is doing something new. Beyond just the ordinary labels with the name and title of each work, every student is also required to write a short statement, which will be hung near the work. This allows visitors who are unfamiliar with a student's oeuvre (oeuvre: the works of a writer, painter, or the like, taken as a whole) a chance to understand a bit of background or intent. 

This is what I wrote:

"parasitic little tumors, cancerous little beasts

both the crime and the witness

blossoming then blooming

melting but frozen

liquefying, solidifying

preserved and suspended

like a supernova in its own tiny universe

in flux

neither plant, nor animal, nor mineral

but an amalgamation of the three

 

These paintings were conceived from loss, but they are about growth. No amount of memory loss will result in losing my self, as long as I keep building and making and replacing the voids with new creations. The themes of loss and despair, juxtaposed with the satisfaction and hope caused by the act of creation, have provided an amazing depth of challenges and inspiration for my work."

 I thought maybe the first half was a bit too esoteric (esoteric: restricted to or intended for an enlightened minority, esp because of abstruseness or obscurity; difficult to understand, abstruse) so I gave Aaron, the gallery director, the option of including only the second half. 

 Hopefully, the artist statement will add some weight to the work, instead of just being another random distraction on the wall. I'm also hoping that the statement will help clarify my titles, which are definitely in danger of being esoteric (for more on this, read my last post).

I am definitely looking forward to reading the statements of other students, especially those of other majors (fashion, architecture, etc). 

Palimpsestic Impetus: A word-nerd chooses her titles

This week I had to hand in titles for my BFA thesis show; the gallery director needed them to make labels to stick on the wall next to our work.

Titling non-existent art is a tricky, tricky business!

First, I decided on a layout for the work. I will be hanging 7 pieces; one large one (probably 36" x 36") will be in the middle, with three more small ones on each side. The three small ones (probably 9" x 9") will share a large set of glass panels, and will be spaced vertically under the glass. The final arrangement ought to look like a triptych.

Triptych is a term generally applied to sets of three 2-d works which are meant to be displayed side-by-side, with the center panel being the main element.

I'm hoping to evoke the original, more specific intent of the word:
triptych :  "hinged, three-leaved writing tablet used in ancient Greece and Rome," from Gk. triptykhos "three-layered," from tri- "three" + ptykhos, gen. of ptyx "fold, layer."

I'm reinforcing this allusion by titling the six small pieces "Palimpsests, No. 1-6."

palimpsest :  "a parchment or the like from which writing has been partially or completely erased to make room for another text," from Latin palimpsestus  parchment cleaned for reuse, from Greek palimpsēstos,  from palin  again + psēstos  rubbed smooth, from psēn  to scrape

It's a bit of an awkward word, palimpsest; it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. But it satisfies several needs:
1. I've been wanting to use it as a title for a really long time.
2. It sounds smart. Yeah, that's right, I'm smart.
3. It's actually perfect, thematically speaking. My little ink paintings are about growth in a reclaimed space that only exists in the wake of erasure and loss. They all begin as pristine little paintings which are corrupted and partially erased; a new painting grows out of the remnants left behind. 

Henri Michaux, Belgian/French writer and artist, ca. 1936

. Photo by Gisèle Freund

While I was writing my thesis paper a few weeks ago, I was reading Miserable Miracle by Henri Michaux. The book is based on a journal he wrote while heavily experimenting with drugs. It would be unreadable if any normal fool had written it, but Michaux was an incredibly talented and unusual man. The edition which I was reading was awesome; the editors had thoughtfully included text which Michaux had scribbled in the margins of his journal. There, I found the phrases "Impetus in jerks," and "Impetus indefinitely renewed." The phrases stuck with me, and I scribbled them in my own little journal.
At that point, I was still developing my final thesis statement. Until then, I had focused on the erasure and the corruption, and I hadn't yet consciously realized that my thesis was more about rebirth and growth.
I couldn't stop repeating Michaux's peculiar phrasing in my mind.

(Let me pause for a moment, to define impetus for anyone who isn't quite sure what it means.
impetus: an impelling movement or force; incentive or impulse; stimulus; the force that sets a body in motion.)

Impetus seems to aptly describe my motivation to make art, and more specifically, to make art about memory and loss. The "indefinitely renewed" part is even better: it describes the realization at which I was concurrently arriving. My memory loss had caused anxiety that I would lose myself, but I realized that was impossible as long as I keep making art. It heals my brain, keeps it full, and fills in the voids lefts behind when something is forgotten. Thus, my impetus to make art will be indefinitely renewed.
Sorry for the blah-blah-blah, but it was necessary to explain why the central panel of the triptych will be called "Impetus, Indefinitely Renewed."

I recommend it highly; be prepared for some meandering, it's to be expected.

So far, I think I have the little palimpsests done, although I know I will make a million more, and choose my six favorites. All of my attempts at the large central piece have been investigational (read: failures). Just in case it doesn't happen, I requested titles for 3 more palimpsests, which will be shown with the others in a square layout of 9. This is a last resort, but hey, a girl's gotta have a backup plan.

So, I have SIX AND A HALF DAYS until my completed work has to be dropped off at the gallery. In ten days, I will be installing the work. In twelve days, I will be handing in the final dvd disc with all my work on it. In THIRTEEN DAYS, our thesis show opens (see my last post.)
In SEVENTEEN DAYS, I WILL BE GRADUATING!  (gasp!)

I Know, It's Hard to Believe...

 

Come See

The Long-Awaited 

(you know what I mean, people)

Senior Thesis Show

of 

Jackie Hopkins Bond

it's only a few weeks away!

Opening: June 5, 5pm to 9pm

June 6-8, 9am to 9pm

June 9, 10am to noon

for more info click here

I would love to include more details, but I don't want to ruin the suspense...

my art in The Real World

SPRING BREAK:
I spent my lovely, fleeting, precious spring break cooped up indoors like a madwoman, taping up new work all over the house and spreading art supplies all over the dining room. Why? Because my friend Cole is opening a new restaurant in Lexington, and he asked me to provide some art for the walls in time for the opening (which is officially THIS MONDAY!) I visited the restaurant first, to show some of my old work to Cole and his mom (the decorator) and to see what kind of space I had to fill. I decided that I needed to do all new work (of course.)
I made new work in the same style, with the same techniques and materials as my recent work,  but I let myself just follow my instincts and make pretty pictures, instead of obsessing about my thesis.
PLANNING TO INSTALL:
I decided that plexiglass wasn't working for me, mostly because it is nearly as expensive as real glass. I called around and found a place that would cut glass to custom sizes, have my order ready in less than 24 hours, and not charge me an arm and a leg. I also made my own labels for the first time, with the titles (which I have lots of doubts about) and the prices (more on that later.) I bought hardware for hanging, which mostly involved mirror clips, and packed up my toolbox with everything I thought I might need: power tools, measuring tools, tape, all that fun stuff.
THE INSTALLATION:
Ugh- took twice as many trips to Lexington as I planned, and about three times as many hours as I thought it would. The lighting was good already, so I didn't have to worry about that, but there were permanent frames already attached to the walls, which made measuring kind of a challenge. I put my laser level to work a lot.
The walls were old, with plaster over brick, so they were hard to drill into and were not exactly flat. The dining room was already decorated with lovely pillows and cushions, so I had to be really careful about making a mess with all my dust. Once I had the measurements done, and the holes drilled, I definitely needed help actually hanging the pieces. The glass is way heavier than plexiglass, and without help I probably would have broken half the work (thankyouthankyouthankyou Mr.Turnbull.)
WHAT I LEARNED:
Installation takes way longer than you think it will. There will be problems. It is work.
When pricing your work, DO NOT forget cost of shipping (or in this case, gas money) or the hours spent installing, deinstalling, and all that stuff. I did not remember these factors; I wanted to put low prices on everything, (they ranged from $40 to $150), but by the time I added up all costs involved, I'll make about fourteen cents an hour if everything sells (which is about fourteen cents more per hour than I've ever made before from art, so I should stop complaining, right?)
THE BEST PART:
By far, the best part was cleaning up after I was done, looking up, and realizing that it looked good. I would have chalked up this reaction to exhaustion and relief, but everyone else seemed to like it too (they were all pretty exhausted too... so who knows, really.)
OKAY, OKAY, HERE'S SOME PICS:

Asteroid #1, 9x12

Asteroid #2, 9x12

Primordial Asteroid, 9x12

The three above are the smallest, each priced at forty bucks. A bargain!

The three above are all 9x12, but they are framed together behind the same piece of glass, as a set titled Amalgamations X, Y, and Z. Another bargain at $105 for the set.

The two above are titled Early Spring, # 1 and #2. It sounds corny, I know, but I was inspired by the early spring here in Cincinnati; it's my very favorite time of the year. They are each $85 (and they are both 14x17).

These two are titled Dawn #1 and Dawn #2, each are 14x17, and $85. These might be my favorites.

There are more, but I don't have good images of them because they are too big for the scanners. They are each 9x36. If I get a good photo of them, I'll post them.

Here's some pictures of the restaurant after the installation. Sorry about the terrible quality of my photos- the sun was starting to go down, and I couldn't use the flash without really weird reflections off the glass.

So... if you find yourself in Lexington, and you need a delicious dinner and you want to see some art, visit Coles 735 Main.

Curio

Installation Studio Class: Project 1

What the heck is installation art? I get asked that a lot, especially when I'm whining to my non-artist friends about my workload this quarter.  Installation is a specific genre of three-dimensional, site-specific work designed to transform a viewer's perception of the space. Installations can be permanent or temporary, indoors or outdoors. This type of work is totally outside of my comfort zone, so I may have been crazy to sign up for this class.

Imagine my delight, when at 8 a.m. on the first day of class I learned that I would be doing a group project for Installation Studio. For those of you who are sarcasm-challenged, this was NOT good news. (Group projects are scarier for art assignments than for any other kind of work!)

Groups were chosen at random, and I was thrown together with three strangers: Megan, Daniel, and Jessie. We were the only group that had complete freedom as far as location of our piece. We quickly chose a site: the giant atrium in Tangeman University Center. This huge building is sort of the center of campus- like the food court at the mall.

Our first thought was something like "Crap! How are we gonna build something large enough to fill this space?"
Which was quickly followed by the idea of putting something very SMALL in the large space, to emphasize the extremes of dimensions. There's a huge, 30' red carpet in the atrium; we thought of putting something small in the middle, then surrounding it with fancy stanchions so people couldn't get close to the small object. The idea would be to get people to think it must be really valuable and to engage their curiosity.  BUT the object is actually ordinary, simple, and plain- an apple!
We chose a site and a concept so quickly and so easily that I felt sure that problems would start once we got down to work.

We started by discussing our respective strengths. Megan and Jessie are into ceramics, Daniel is into sculpture, and I'm into 2-D. Not only was it nice to know we had a wide range of abilities, we also had access to a wide range of free materials, because we had all paid various lab fees in our other studio classes. Aren't we smart? So Jessie and Megan made the apples, I made the hand-printed signs, and Daniel built the pedestal for the apple. We all worked on building the stanchions. Daniel and I cut and forged steel rods, while Megan and Jessie set them in plaster. We painted each of the stanchions black. We all worked on making the velvet rope, and we all assembled the piece on site. WE ALL WORKED. Weird, huh?

Curio from above

This shot shows one of my signs with the installation in the background

This is Saturday, right after we installed it; nothing's protecting the apple yet

For the critique on Monday, we made a velvet pillow and encased the apple in glass.

Close-up of the velvet rope. We made these out of lengths of pipe insulation, less than a dollar apiece!

These are the extra apples, which we handed out to classmates during the critique.

I made 30 hand-printed apples, and hung them throughout DAAP in the weeks before our installation. We wanted people to be curious, and it worked! Everyone wanted to know what was with all of the apples! Lots were stolen, which was fine with us- it meant that our apple had gained value. I made color copies of these apples and continued to hang them.

I made these signs with wood-block printing also- we hung them throughout DAAP and TUC. They are deliberately vague and simple- we wanted people to be uncertain about what exactly Curio meant.

The grungy bulletin board outside the sculpture studio got the first sign and apples- I wanted Matt, the professor, to see that we were following through with our plan to promote the project. (He seemed skeptical that we would actually do so much work so far before the due date.)

This apple hangs high above the DAAP cafe. I tried to put them in unusual places, where they would be noticed.

 Interesting development:  we joked that it would be sort of funny if our porcelain apple got stolen. We kind of hoped it would happen, because it would mean that our goal worked- we had assigned the apple so much value by displaying it the way we did that someone wanted to steal it.
Well, it worked- someone stole it and left a ransom note, of sorts. I scanned it.

If any of you want to tweet a message, to help solve the mystery, feel free. So far, we've made no progress.

 Another fun development: around DAAP, where there are still apple prints hanging on the walls, someone hung paper caterpillars behind them, as if the caterpillars were about to eat the apples. I haven't gotten a good picture yet, but if I do, I'll post one here. I'm hoping someone else will make paper birds to eat the caterpillars.
Curio went so well that three of us have decided to work together for the next project, even though we had the option to work alone.

Gallery Visit

I recently visited the Prairie Art Gallery in Northside. This is a very community-minded, non-profit gallery. Their current exhibit, House, perfectly exemplifies the philosophy of the gallery.

Artist Tony Becker created House by collaborating with over 15 different community arts centers. Children of all backgrounds decorated paper origami houses with whatever they felt a home is; some featured cut-outs and written words, and some were decorated on the inside as well. Once Becker collected the houses, he spent many hours arranging them into large, sphere-shaped hanging mobiles, which turn slowly in the air currents.

a close-up view of Becker's largest sphere of houses

Tony Becker's exhibit manages to be engaging and compelling, without being cliched or sentimental. After talking with the gallery director, David Rosenthal, I understand why this exhibit is perfectly suited to the philosophy of the Prairie Gallery. Rosenthal chooses to exhibit work that is community-minded and unique. He prefers work that is a collaboration between artists and members of the neighborhoods in which they work, because art should function as a way to provide culture, pride, and purposeful expression.

a smaller sphere of houses

This exhibit will continue until April 8th. Go check it out!

4035 Hamilton Avenue Cincinnati, Ohio 45223

HOURS: Tuesday-Friday 10-6 and Saturday 10-4