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!)

Is anyone else sick of the word THESIS?

One of my goals this week was to push my 2-d thesis work towards a more show-able version, for the senior show which is coming up in a few weeks. The vellum is nice, but it needs to be framed, and I don't want to use frames. Hence, no more vellum...
So, I wandered the aisles of Lowe's, looking for any and all smooth surfaces. Tiles, glass, sheet metal, plexi, plastic... it all seemed to scream out for me to dump some ink on it.

(Dear Lowe's employees: No, I am not remodeling my bathroom. Yes, I want to buy your broken and rejected tiles. Quit looking at me like I'm crazy. I'm an artist.)

This is a stoneware tile. It has a nice texture, which I think complements the way the ink moves and settles as it dries. But one of my classmates pointed out that it exudes permanence, which seems to negate the theme of my thesis. I agree.

This is on a smooth, glossy white ceramic tile. I like the delicacy of detail that seems to be possible. I want to try it on a larger tile. (This one is 6" x 6")

This one is on glass. It was originally really dense and overworked. I was in the process of "erasing" it, and stopped when I realized I liked where it was. I added the drops of gold ink, then forced myself to stop. The glass is layered over a sheet of bristol board which I brushed with graphite powder. I love working on glass!

 If there's one lesson I've learned over the last few weeks, it's that I chose the right theme for my thesis. I can't NOT work on it, I can't NOT think about it, and even when I intentionally try to not work on it, I still do. 

I had a lovely talk this afternoon with a grad student, who suggested that I ought to try and find common ground between my 2-d and 3-d work. I agree! Right now, both are abstract representations of the same concepts, but they don't necessarily relate to each other. Installed in the same gallery, you probably wouldn't guess they were from the same artist. Hmmm. So, this will be my challenge: not only do I want all new work in the senior show (which is ridiculous, it's in about three weeks) but I want it to be cohesive. Which means I mean to make adjustments to my processes in both sculpture and drawing. Hmmmm.

I also experimented with layering glass. Each sheet of glass has two sides. The piece below essentially has 4 layers: The bottom of the top layer of glass, the top and the bottom of the lower piece of glass, and the white paper beneath, which was stained with the ink run-off while I worked on the glass.

It's kind of impossible to see in the scanned image here, but the layers create depth, like a hologram, and the colors sort of glow, as the glass is almost as reflective as a mirror. I'm not especially in love with this particular composition, but I definitely want to try more.

I wasn't sure if I liked the bottom layer, so I scanned it without to see the difference. It doesn't really matter, because it's just an experiment, but if anyone has an opinion on which version is better, let me know.

 I need to stop blogging.

I have a LOT of work to do.

the FLUX series (more fun with alcohol ink)

I have done some more experiments with ink over the last few weeks. I feel as though I'm getting closer to not calling them just "experiments" anymore... soon...

This reminds me of an alien landscape. For some of these, I had a hard time deciding which way was up and which was down. I had them pinned to boards as I made them, so I could easily turn them to get the ink to run in different directions. So, even as I make them, they don't have a top or a bottom.

This one is going to be one half of an art trade; another artist, Megan, will give me one of her pieces in exchange for this one. She liked the way the blue streaks look like wood grain.

This one is a bit overworked, maybe, but I like the colors. It looks like one of those pictures taken by the Hubble space telescope.

This is the first print I made with this technique. I sprayed two pieces that I didn't really like with alcohol, then I pressed them together face to face. After pulling them apart, I ended up with two images that were perfect mirrors of each other. I plan on trying this more, because I have LOTS of rejects to mess with...

I like the neutral colors of this one.

This is another print; it has a mirror twin. I like the way the ink rearranges itself during the printing process.

This one is on acetate (the others are all on vellum). Acetate is harder to work with; it gets sticky and messy and curls up on itself. As a result, I'm less likely to overwork the image. This ended up being one of my favorites.

 Next up with ink: I have some very large sheets to work with, of both vellum and acetate. They are expensive, so I have been wanting to get more control with the stuff on smaller pieces first.
I also have glass, mirror, and ceramic tiles to experiment with.
There's a big, scary, pre-thesis show coming up in a few weeks, and I would like to put some of these ink pieces on a gallery wall, to see what people think of them.

Yee-Haw for Printmaking!

Today I visited Yee-Haw Industries in Knoxville, Tennessee, with my friend Rhainy. (She's gonna be an art teacher too!)

Yee-Haw has been in operation since 1996, as a unique storefront/ studio/ print factory. The small area up front is packed with merchandise, including hand-printed signs, posters, cards, fabric, and clothing, all manufactured on site.

The staff allowed us to prowl around the back, where we were fascinated and overwhelmed by the vast amount of printing blocks and typeface. The walls were filled with their unique products, and the ceiling was partly covered too. Everywhere we looked, there was something amazing. They let me take pictures of everything, as long as I promised not to steal any of their designs.

(Side note: I hate shopping in a store full of amazing stuff when I have NO money to spend!)

Posters to the ceiling, and then some

Yee-Haw is in a 100+-year-old building on Gay Street in historic downtown Knoxville (just a few doors down from where Hank Sr. was last seen alive).

 The studio has recently collaborated with the National Gallery of Art to design & produce a unique line of Dada merchandise, available exclusively at the National Gallery for the duration of the 2006 Dada exhibition.

By Yee-Haw artist Kevin Bradley: It is a Hugo Ball nonsense poem from 1917 - during the Dada period.

HUNDREDS of drawers of typeface

thousands of antique metal dingbats

Yee-Haw Industries located in the heart of downtown Knoxville, TN, 413 South Gay Street with a neon Yee-Haw in the front window. You can't miss it.
Unless you're me and Rhainy... we drove past it twice. Maybe three times. 

countless one-of-a-kind wooden and linoleum plates

So much fun stuff to look at!

http://www.yeehawindustries.com/home.html
Visit their website for more info. Once there, you can also link to their Etsy store and their own blog.