Reblog Number Nine
This is an unframed collage from my solo show “Afloat”. Ceres Gallery. New York. Photo taken in my studio just after I finished it. My love of water. Joyful feeling of the man in front of the wave. Reminds me of childhood times in the summer.
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show
I am transitioning out of my present blog format for a very good reason: Showing the 100 collages in my current blog format is coming to a close. (We are on “Sixty-Eight”) To make the transition easier, (soon) , I am planning to blog about other art-related things interspersed with continuing to post the “Afloat” collages until I reach the 100. I will ease out of the front and center visual and few paragraphs of copy into something else.
I have a fear of boring my present followers. I am taking a risk. First, I have tried to keep my blog short. And primarily visual. People do not have time now to do anything but scan.
I am scheduled for another solo show in 2015. A solo show requires me to spend at least an entire year to bring it to its…
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Reblog Number 7
The photo of this collage is one I also took in my studio. Right after I did it. Solo Show. Ceres Gallery. New York. Jacque Cousteau in a glass.
Reblog Number Six
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. Solo Show. New York.
This collage contains a huge flower in the foreground, in front of a very large crowd in an outside environment. Like an outdoor concert. The texture of the flower is similar to the “texture” of the crowd, linking them in an almost indecipherable mass of dots.
I have no idea how to comment on this, other than to say I love how two disparate subjects could look alike and form an abstraction.
More later on how this idea formed the making of these collages, rather than my focusing on the eerie, sometimes funny subject matter that does come up.
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
After soliciting my WordPress “Blog As Gallery” to a few publications in town, I have had some encouraging news about some coverage. I do not know when or where yet.
Therefore, to extend the run of my one hundred (after all, even with a few miscountings in the beginning, I am up to 91…..) I am going to run ten of my most successful blogs starting tomorrow. The ones I think are my most successful in this series of one hundred from the exhibition “Afloat: An Installation.”
After the ten reblog days, I will complete my “Blog As Gallery” with the rest of my one hundred collages. Then, I will move on to a new project. But still post my “stuff” everyday here.
Even though you may have seen these reblogs before, please feel free to add more comments. After all, I do sound like such an authority sometimes! 🙂
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
Since my sinus surgery, I have been eating a lot of Chinese food. The other day, I opened my fortune cookie. I noticed, that at this particular restaurant, the fortunes are so positive! “The Best Mirror Is Often A Good Friend”, “You Have The Makings Of A Winner.”
Other restaurants, not so. This one restaurant gave out cookies that were a little too personal. Positive, but personal. “The Love Of Your Life Is Sitting Next To You”, “You Are Soon Going To Change Your Line Of Work”, “You Will Be Invited To A Small Gathering With Lots Of Spicy Conversation.” Hey, not so close, Buddy!
It had me thinking. What if the fortunes were not only not positive, but downright menacing? Like, “The Man Across From You Is Really A Murderer” or (And you have to get into this: You have to picture yourself opening that cellophane wrapper with some difficulty, and with some degree of expectation, breaking the cookie and smoothing flat the small piece of paper, then struggling to read it), ”Be Careful Around The Next Curve.”
What would you think? I know my wallet has a fortune and its date on it next to every photograph. Fully expecting that the fortune is apt.
If I read “Your Next Business Move Will Be A Serious Mistake” or “Your Sister Is Going To Die In A Mining Accident”, my life would be full of angst and dread!
Let’s open the one that says, “Simplicity Of Character Is The Natural Result Of Profound Thought.”
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
Color relationships. Color is only a color when it is next to another color. For instance, tan can become orange when next to a bluish color. And tan’s orange-ness is washed out when placed near white. In fact, white sucks all color out of what it is placed against. When you are painting a room and you look at a color chip (surrounded by white on the card), the shade appears on the card a shade lighter than it will be when you put the color on the walls. So choose a shade or two lighter than the one you like on the paint store chip card.
I learned color from a disciple of Josef Albers, who made studying color his life’s work. Fred Gregory was in Yale’s M.F.A. program.
I met Fred when I was taking postgraduate classes at Atlanta College of Art. I was in the last Color Theory class Fred taught before he died. I feel lucky to have learned all the things I did: fusion of two different colors, vibration between two colors, a third color appearing between two colors. How to make two different colors look the same when surrounded by two colors. How to make the same color look different surrounded by two colors.
At any rate, color is only color, in relationship to other colors.
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
I remember every outfit I have worn on every occasion. It’s not that I pay that much attention to what I throw on. Believe me, some days I go into my closet and drag out just anything. Mostly my Indian patchwork pants when I have nothing in sight to wear.
For instance (and those of you who have heard this before, just go on to the next), I still own the skirt I was wearing when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Not only do I remember the skirt and the blouse, but I still have the skirt and I placed a note on it with a safety pin, so that if something were to happen to me, this madras skirt would be documented. (I no longer have the blouse which was pale pink with smocking across the top.)
I remember what I wore when I first had lunch with my husband. We got lost in the parking lot and I thought it was going to be a great romantic escapade, but when he said something about me stealing his wallet, I was flattened. The dress was filmy and black and white striped with flying triangles all over it. Puffed sleeves. Very Eighties. And by today’s standards, really hideous.
The Earth Shoes, jeans, and Scandinavian sweater I wore at a disco (after I went ice skating) when I met the guy I was to move to Atlanta to be with. And the way my hair looked that night. I remember the womanizer I had an affair with for one year and the lunch we first shared. I wore a Rick Springfield T Shirt, (whoever he is) and tight black jeans. And the blouse I wore when we broke up: coral. A blouse I had spent a lot of money on. And I had had it for years.
The red dress. When my boss made a move on me outside my five-story walk-up. He showed me where Mike Douglas lived, so as to impress me before driving me home.
I have to say, that if someone I love says something negative about what I wear, either about my jewelry or clothes. Or some traumatic event happens while wearing the item, I will never wear it again. My daughter said to me once, when she was little. “Mom, you act like my sweaters have feelings!”
Sam Cook’s Bar Mitzvah. This time I remember what my daughter was wearing. She wasn’t even invited and we made the mistake of bringing her. She wore a pale yellow CP Shades top and pants. She was five.
Anyway, you get the idea. I think pinning the note on the madras skirt I wore when JFK was shot is a little much. As if others value clothes and their memories as much as I do. In a few years I will give it to the Good Will.
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
The woman in “full color” is being wooed by the Black and White man. He is blowing up a balloon for her. She looks happy, but not overly so. And he looks like someone from another era. After all, he is in Black and White.
The colors in this collage are pretty bad. Even with the addition of black and white, which sometimes can elevate a color-challenged piece. But as I said, the man is not making the “in color” woman that happy.
I need to talk about this. This could be considered a rant. But I don’t care. In fact, maybe the last thirteen of these collages in “Blog As Gallery” will be rants.
This is a rant about people enjoying the names of colors, rather than looking at the colors by themselves and letting that be enough.
Like someone will say “Sea Foam Green.” That’s an old one. Or they will say their walls are “Biscuit.” and they act so smug as if the name of the color dignifies it. Or augments it. (Augment: one of my favorite words.) “Chocolate Brown.” Or “Cotton Candy” Or “Heather.” Come on now, does anyone over here really know what heather looks like? Or “Wine” and “Cranberry.” (Always in Autumn, just in time for Thanksgiving) These people love saying the words. “Ecru”, “Eggnog.” ”Eggplant!” Never mind, it does not even remotely look like the color of an eggplant! And honestly, if it weren’t around Christmastime, the true color of “Eggnog” would make people want to barf!
There is actually a color for walls called “Decorator’s White” (I wonder who thought that one up) I mixed my own color for our ceilings and the paint store named it “Hollis Green.” Not the Hollis Green on the TV Show “Big Love”, but naming the color I wanted, which was not even green. “Hollis Green” was turquoise!
Obviously, this is a source of great irritation for me. I guess because I love color; it does not need a name to be enjoyed. In fact, don’t get me started on the naming of clothing like “Boyfriend Jeans.”
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
The collage above looks like a farmer‘s hands proudly presenting his crop’s output.
I never thought of this before, but looking at it now, it reflects that expression “Manna From Heaven.”
Maybe because the arms of the person are all that is seen; the produce seems to be given freely. No strings.
A lot of artists and musicians believe the Universe is talking to them all the time, giving them creative ideas. Michael Jackson and Prince were both spiritual people. And they liked this idea of the Universe handing out ideas. Michael Jackson told the press once, when he was asked how he maintained his strong work ethic? He had to listen very carefully, lest The Universe give his ideas to Prince.
I wonder how Prince feels now about keeping these ideas to himself?
Hollis Hildebrand-Mills 