Archives for posts with tag: art

Day Seventy-Two/ Image Seventy-Two

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

This is a tuna steak. Raw. In front of a building in China. I did it only for aesthetic reasons. Don’t you get that? Loving the colors.The photographer who painstakingly took these pictures for my records knew it was a tuna steak. I don’t think I would know that.

He is a gourmet cook and therefore probably has it cooked on the grill or some other luxurious way. And doesn’t think of tuna the way I do. In a can or presented in the form of an ice cream scooped mold on a lettuce leaf.

I am highly impressed with people who cook. I used to cook. I made desserts from Northern Italy and I stuffed curried mashed potatoes into eggplant skins. I used to make my own spaghetti sauce and not ever used sauce in a bottle. (I think pasta companies put that stuff in see-through jars so we can see the finished product is not corrosive.)

Cooking used to be an elegant expression of myself. Since our daughter came into our lives, and the pediatrician told me, a shocked vegetarian, to feed her Gerber’s veal and lamb in a jar, we eat things I never would have begun to eat. Meatloaf and spaghettios. Granola bars and Nutella. Nuggets. Corn dogs. Even sloppy joes. On white bread buns.

Now that I am gluten free and our daughter is going off to college, I think I am easing back to more culinary ways.

Day Sixty-Seven/ Image Sixty-Seven

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

There is an expression: “walking on air.” It generally means a person is so happy, his or her feet don’t touch the ground. Or that is the way the person feels.

I had this feeling once. It lasted a few months. I could not shake it. I tried, but I continuously felt, literally, that my feet were not connected to the ground.

It was after I had been accepted into a juried exhibition in New York, where Anne Umland, Curator, Painting and Sculpture Department for the Museum of Modern Art had selected one of my pieces for New York exhibition.

I had just started painting seriously, after I had left my full time job in Advertising. I had been in the studio constantly for a few years, working. I saw the ad for this show, applied and got in.

A lot of artists work hard. I am just one of them. Even a former professor of mine said, when I complained of this euphoria, (because, believe me, it became annoying not being connected to the ground!) “Enjoy it now! It won’t last!” Thinking how harsh he was, I kept painting and working.

Nothing on that great a scale has happened since. Similar career achievements and experiences have approached it, but never again did I get that feeling.

Day Sixty-Two/Image Sixty-Two

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

About a year ago, the son of a good friend of mine suggested I do a blog as part of my new website. I was fascinated at the time. I needed a new website and I consulted with him because I knew this guy is in the business of working with computers. ( Who isn’t? But this guy really is.)

It was a Thanksgiving chat and all was mellow. I didn’t give the blog much thought, except for the “live” aspect of it. What had been a static website before, showing my artworks in a gallery row, updating it from time to time, I was thrilled at the prospect of a blog. He said “People will come to your shows! You can post your work in progress!”

Now, eight months later, after hanging in with this blog, bumbling along and spending many obsessive/compulsive hours, its worth is sweet! It is like a still pool, where the depth is indeterminable. I have met many people this way. I don’t know them, but we tell each other stuff that makes my life richer. I learn about things I never would have cared to access. But I find these things more than interesting.

At any rate: Thanks, Sam Cook, for your suggestion!

Day Sixty-One/Image Sixty-One

“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.

In a few days, it will be Halloween. I believe in working with nature, when decorating my yard. I’ll put up some Indian corn on the door, a pumpkin on the step, things like that. After dark, on Halloween night, my husband sets up a haunted house. It disappears mysteriously the next day.

But as other yards whiz by while I am running around in my car, I am forced to look at these huge, very huge inflatable Halloween pirate ships and ghosts, made of plastic and bright colors. Yesterday I saw an inflatable black cat the size of the bungalow in which is has to be stored off-season. Not only defying nature, but overcoming it. A Macy’s Day Parade balloon right there in broad daylight.

I prefer to keep my oversized creatures in my collages, not on my front lawn.

When I was at Atlanta College of Art taking post graduate classes, I was fortunate to take a couple of classes from a man named Fred Gregory. I studied Painting and Color Theory with this guy who had been Josef Albers’ student at Yale. Albers thought highly enough of Fred Gregory at Yale’s MFA program to appoint him as one of the two proofreaders of Albers’ color theory book. Since Albers’ life’s work was about color, the color on the pages and the color relationships had to be accurate. And, apparently, my teacher was that good.

Albers 1OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Among the many things I learned from Fred, he taught me not to judge bad art. Instead, he said, look at it and ask myself what I would do to make it better.

I decided to illustrate this point with a spaghetti sauce can which is obviously repulsive. (I did not want to use any art here so as not to offend anyone) I thought everyone could relate to a picture of food on a can as a visual and apply it to Fred’s theory.

tomato can
I steamed the label off the can and asked myself what would make me like the image here better. So I went to work. What else but collage? I improved the can, put it back on the shelf in the grocery store, and voila! It looks good enough to take home.

tomato can 0 copy tomato can 1 copy
You don’t have to actually take home bad art and make it better. Fred said that the mere asking yourself what needed to be done to make the piece better, developed the aesthetic side of your mind. You would be working. Only conceptually. I believe that every time you “work” the side of your brain that does art, you learn and build on it, making you a better artist.

tomato can 2 copy

tomato can 5 copy