Weather or Not

 

Nothing "candy ass" about the weather! Ay ca-rumba! One day it's 50 degrees and sunny, the next day it's 10 degrees with a wind chill of minus 5... then we get snow. Then we get weird rain and now we have three inches of soon-to-be frozen slop. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow when I try and venture out to feed the poor horses who have been struggling to remain upright on ice. Maggie went and cut her leg on something sharp (while eating her breakfast?) and her paddock looked like a crime scene. I was going to photograph it but even I demurred; too gruesome! I washed her leg off, and despite her protestations, treated her wound with Vetericyn and bandaged it. It seemed fine by this afternoon, no more bloody snow!

So at least the evil weather has proven to be fertile time for me to get into my studio and make art. Incidentally, it was so cold for three days that I didn't even attempt to make a fire in the wood stove in my studio. I worked- like old times!- in the living room. Today, I was back in the studio, cutting out letters for a new piece. Betcha wonder what this one is going to say?!?!?! You'll just have to wait until I decide to share my newest "words of the day". 

Here's a detail. Yes, all of those tiny dots are individual seed beads, hand sewn on. I was referencing that weird (to my mind anyway!) candy that came on strips of paper. It always had bits of paper stuck to the back of the individual dots and I can't for the life of me remember it tasting like anything at all. But some friends have confessed to LIKING that candy. Go figure!

And little did I know that there is a queer, Jewish, male artist named Cary Liebowitz who goes by the name "Candy Ass". And he and I have a lot in common when you look at his work: he uses text- often scrawled in a awkward, hand written sort of way, he uses profanity (who me?!?), references the art world ... and he's funny. Check it out! Anyway, I knew nothing about him until a friend mentioned him to me on Instagram. You learn something every day!
 

                                               

 I decided to do my Candy Ass piece because my good friend Wasil often used this phrase to refer to stupid, clumsy or weak things or people. (He doesn't recall using this phrase but where the hell would I come up with it??!?!) I am dedicating this piece to Wasil... he's not candy ass at all!!

 

Now Who's the Snowflake?

For those of you who were unable to attend the NYC art world event of the season, here's a few highlights. (Yes, they are screen shots from a few friends albums on Facebook- thank you Roberta, Phillip and Yolanda!) because I/we were too busy schmoozing and chatting up the room to take pictures (or even oversee the taking of pictures). It was packed with admiring friends and art fans and I was quite happy. Many good friends traveled from the wilds of Connecticut; I am astonished at their love and support!

And here are people that I DON"T KNOW, looking at (and gesturing to) my art work. Yowzah! That's great! I received a lot of positive feedback and the show did look really good so I couldn't be happier.*
The show went on, despite the chills/spill/thrills necessary to have an already sick artist's stomach in her mouth. You all probably heard about how my work wasn't picked up and delivered to NYC when it was scheduled.... someone's father (thanks Weston!) had to make that trip. And then a piece of lace- instrumental to the completion of "Complicit"- was unloaded at the wrong address (thanks again fro resolving that issue, Weston)... Yes, artist's hearts are often in cardiac arrest, wondering if all the details were in place- or whether the Devil is indeed alive and well and attending to them!
And then, of course, there is the truly funny-or pathetic- story of how the delivery gentleman (who IS after all, a conservative, gun tottin' rethuglican) REFUSED to pick up the three pieces from the gallery that we weren't hanging... this despite the fact that he was stopping at the gallery to drop off several paintings and had the room in his truck. Hahahahaa! tender sensibilities, indeed! Now who's the snowflake? The things you learn.
And we arrived home at midnight, fed the Dog and Pony Show ( we have a dog walker who comes to minister to Robin's needs) and fell into bed. And woke up at the crack of dawn to go back in to sit the show. It was pretty slow until the last hour or so, when some friends from New Haven showed up and -heavens!- more strangers poured into the gallery and took pictures, were impressed, asked all the right questions etc. That made the day fun and worthwhile.
On the way back to the subway, I was exultant and Bob and I were chatting away merrily about the next move when BOOM! I hit some sort of slippery spot and crashed to the pavement. Naturally, I had just removed my gloves, so my left hand absorbed the fall- along with my left upper thigh and hip. That hurt! And so much for ol' NYC being nice to artists... (it's not!)

Evidence, need I say more?
So the show looks good, my bruises will fade, and Bob and I are hauling into NYC every Saturday to be there for the requisite "meeting and greeting" and "gripping and grinning". Stop by if you're in the neighborhood.

*Well, I would have liked to have sold every piece... or even one (but there's still time...)

Bye Bye Deep Freeze

Yup! We had minus 11 degrees on Sunday morning. I am not one to advocate spending a whole lot of time opining about the weather, but Holy Cow!! It was majorly nasty cold.
I am supporting the theory that "brain freeze" prohibited me from accomplishing anything brilliant in this last week, unlike certain "stable geniuses" who are, like, really smart. Don't get me started...
I worked on my pieces for my ONE-PERSON SHOW in NEW YORK (bragging rights!) in the living room (my previous studio if you recall) because attempting to heat my studio was ludicrous. It just takes all day and becomes a waste of wood. The work looks good and let's be thankful that I was doing finish up hemming and edging and not requiring myself to make aesthetic decisions of great import. So many details to complete!
But today is supposed to be almost 40. I find it hard to believe after that protracted sub-zero spell we endured; even the 17 degrees it is outside right now feels relatively balmy. Robin and I took our first walk in over a week. That's almost unheard of in this household! But Robin doesn't have a big dense coat of fur like Jules or Frank the Dog; she's silky and isn't partial to the cold. In fact, she was eager to retreat to the office upstairs and curl up in a tight ball.
How Maggie the Mexican Pony survives is anyone's guess. She had icicles on her eyelashes on Sunday. But her winter coat is tremendous (she looks like a stuffed animal) and she has her high neck ultra thick super arctic horsey blanket on and she was happy (well, maybe not happy) to stand around outside (despite free access 24/7 to her nice stall. To each his/her own!
I know it's winter and we should be grateful that some of the insects that plague us will be in shorter supply comes spring and summer, but I'm craving sunshine and warmth. The furnace has been coming on too often and I'm seeing dollar signs flying up the chimney. I am also hoping for good weather to install my show, not to mention for my opening. I have a mark to make on the art world. Winter weather be damned!

Our Little Bit of Scotland

The above dramatization occurred at work one day while describing to a co-worker how I will never retire. I maintain I will simply be found collapsed and deceased on the job. He captured the moment for posterity*.
A month or so ago, Bob and I began toying with the notion of visiting Scotland, as the ticket prices advertised by Norwegian Airlines from our local airport were very enticing. We haven't been on a significant trip- or even out of the country- in a very long time and our passports are up to date and why not Scotland? We looked at videos of perky travelers exploring the offerings of Edinburgh and the Scottish countryside, sampling haggis and whisky. We viewed hotel accommodations...
But wait! It came to me at work (perhaps while demonstrating "dying in my traces" like Boxer in "Animal Farm") that we should spend our money and time concentrating on that which would have a lasting, life-long effect. We should spend our time and money traveling to New York as we both truly wish to make a mark, leave our stamp upon the Art World!
So, newly reinvigorated and inspired, we sped off to NYC on Saturday and spent the day perusing galleries and the requisite ten million faces. (I mean, New York is nothing if not full of faces.) We saw the good, the bad and (dare I say it?) the less than sublime. But we went! And we saw! And it was (as always) oddly transfixing and transformative and exhausting. We're tired today.
However, the Lower East Side is (and has been for a few years) the new-er area to see art. It smells a bit like fish (occasionally) as this is Chinatown before Art Land, but who cares when culture (Kulture!) calls?
We had several "on trend" moments when it became apparent that scumbled, pealed back paper eroded "archeological" pieces were favored. And painting. Yes, painting is still "having a (big) moment". And space men? It's a decent season for the artist that pixel-ates or likes space alien/robot heads. (A few were actually okay.) What else... drawings that were very detailed and had a fantasy element seemed worth looking at. Some want to call this "outsider" but hell: what's an insider artist? And then we met a woman running a gallery that (I swear) was like eight feet square, featuring an obsessive artist coloring in plywood carved anal sculptures. Heavens help us...
And then we celebrated Bob's birthday ( five months late) at an Indian restaurant. Not just any one! It is a restaurant that we've been going to for years. I swear they save us a front row table, under the most amazing strobe-lit disco ball, with ever-lower red hot pepper themed Xmas lights- what a treat! The food was wonderful, the company exclusive and charming... we had a really good time.
And now we're tired but happy. I feel really good about our decision to "stay put" and go to NYC more frequently. We need to get that art career train rolling...

photo credit: Antony Corso

Trip to New York

The above pictured blueberry pancakes- made with blueberries from our bushes!- will grace this post about our trip to NYC. Bob and I simply refuse to drag the camera along, and seeing as we have the original "Not-So-Smart phone", we couldn't take pictures even if we wanted to. Besides, is it not more Zen to "be here (or there) now" and experience the present? Anyway...
You may remember that Bob and I almost made it to NYC the previous week. But monstrous weather in the form of torrential rain and thunder changed our plans. Besides, I mused, in an opening with 111 artists, would they really miss me? So we stayed home and had our own splendid "opening".
But Saturday was a lovely day for a trip: warm, dry and perfect. We missed a train in the morning by like 2 minutes as we encountered road construction, but we were under no time restraints we caught the next train and had many interesting adventures, including exploring an area of Bushwick (Brooklyn) that we'd never encountered before. We took an elevated train to get there which afforded a great view back to Manhattan. We looked in on two (tiny) outpost galleries and saw some magical work. And then on to Odetta to schmooze with art dealers (hello Ellen!) and meet another of the three million, five hundred and twenty two artists that wish to show their work. I can't keep track anymore. An interesting discussion of the vagaries of the art press, how hard it is to secure collectors, etc etc- the typical conversations between artists.

(Isn't that a charming succulent? Looks like green twigs.)
And then it was off to the Manhattan to encounter my small offering in the show "Going Big" at Central Booking, an artist's book gallery. Strangely, I was the only artist to submit a book; I was alone in a sea of small paintings (largely abstract) and a few sculptures, But kudos to Suzan and Susan the curators! It was a really attractive show and well hung! I was more than happy as sometimes these huge shows are hung "salon style" (stacked up cheek by jowl) but this show had space between pieces and was remarkably harmonious.
Bob and I then repaired to an Indian restaurant on 6th Street that we have literally been going to for years. It was much the same, with crazy dollar store strings of light blinking and miniature flags of many nations blowing in the air conditioning and Indian pop music blaring. A feast for all the senses. I was glad we made it to the restaurant as we haven't been in that neighborhood for ages and Bob was eager to eat Indian food there again.

 (That one's cute, too! This is some sort of sedum, with a coreopsis photobombing behind...)
Wefinished the evening by missing the train home by three minutes; sort of a reverse repeat of the morning train episode) and had to wait as after 7:00 or 8:00 on weekends, the trains only run once an hour. Thank goodness that Bob and Is till seem to have things to talk about. It was a really nice trip and artistically productive, as in good feedback from past admirers and a new one too. Sometimes, I actually enjoy my trips into NYC...

Touching the Fence

 A new garden is born! I have been meaning to begin developing a serious shade area, as opposed to a small cluster of shade plants at the end of one bed. And for my birthday, I received a new hosta (Sum and Substance) and that was that! I began digging... (Doesn't look like much yet, but you'd be surprised at how many weeds and junk I pulled out. And rocks! Here's just a partial sampling:

The area that I selected for positioning the shade garden is majorly infested with poison ivy. While I have been careful (whatever that means) I invariably develop at least one case of what can only be deemed "heroic" poison ivy every year. Here's this year's offering! And of course, it's during the hottest, stickiest time of the summer, when I'm already crabby and battling evil weather. Like last Thursday. Bob and I were supposed to go to New York for a show that I am in. "Supposed to" being the operative words. Sanity prevailed as half way to the train station, I asked Bob if he thought it was totally stupid to be going into New York with storms threatening and it being just generally polluted and nasty out. We decided to not go and the skies did open and we missed nothing, except my being in an opening with 110 other artists. I'm delighted to be in the show, but feel like a minute carbuncle on the ass of the art world. Or should I capitalize that? ART WORLD. Carbuncles? You want to talk carbuncles? Just look at my arm...

 

So today I was in a foul humor, despite having several great art ideas on my morning ramble with Jules. I spent several productive hours in my studio, and still I feel sort of at odd ends. It might have been the tremendous thunder storm that we had last night. It woke both Bob and I with one of the loudest claps of thunder I have ever heard. So my present joke is about "touching the fence". You may remember that several months back, I was having a terrible day. Nothing seemed to be going well, I was out of sorts and just not my usual chipper Little Miss Sunshine self. And then I accidentally touched Maggie the Horses' electric fence. Hey Presto! It was as if a jolt from the sky re-routed my personal misaligned electrical field because everything was fine after that. (Perhaps it was a mild form of electro shock therapy?) Anyway, my standing joke now is that if the day sucks... go ahead: touch that fence!

Yes But

Okay, I promise that this will be my last in a continuing exploration of gnarly art world conundrum rants (at least for a while). The "Small Pillow of Conditionality" (above) is not a new piece, but appropriately summarizes the ultimate paradox. Yes, we (as artists) don't want to be told what to do or how to make our work BUT we do want to sell things.
That presents a huge conflict because I firmly believe that most people (who ever they are) really want art to consist of unambiguously pretty pictures, not knotty contentious sociological diagrams of what atrocity was committed where. Honestly. Ask any one entering a major museum and they'll enthusiastically tell you they're headed straight to the Impressionists or the Renaissance masterpieces. And who can blame them? After a particularly awful week of killings and economic slumping and surgical procedures, art is viewed as a mini-vacation from reality.
But of course the reality is that many artists, myself included, don't always make pretty pictures. Witness the above pillow, sewn with used Band Aids. I suppose it's "pretty" in that the complimentary red fabrics echo the red blood in a charming and supportive way, not to mention the carefully applied piping around the perimeter. But is anyone going to buy my bloody Band Aid pillow... probably not, even though it does show case my winsome sense of humor nicely.
And it's damned hard, as we all know, to get people to part with their filthy lucre so as long as the artist in question isn't producing lovely watercolors of sailboats and iconic, weathered red barns, there's little danger that a sale is being made.
So we want it both ways. We want to sell, but we want to sell what we make, even if what we make isn't always traditional and representational or beautiful. Despite ourselves, we occasionally do sell something and that does confirm our inner suspicions that we are indeed geniuses.
Are you still with me? For the non-artist, this is all probably a bit tiresome, but to us "creative types" (I keep hearing that phrase) it's what keeps us up at night: How to sell, without selling out.

And Another Thing....

(That's a photograph I got from work that was going to be tossed! Wow! Ganesh in red long johns! I absolutely love it, and it's not some print, but a real photograph! Good visual for my continued ranting...)
And another thing: not only are artists not factories, but their work isn't "product".
As I have saliently pointed out to anyone who will listen, art isn't like baling wire or underpants- designed for some particular occasion or specific need. Art is a strange and peculiar occurrence. The stuff we artists make (called "art") is unique and falls into its own universe, It's governed by its own discrete set of internal laws and those laws may or may not make sense to anyone else. That's why no one can tell you that your art work is stupid or pointless or anything else, because those statements are irrelevant. Art is whatever you as an artist choose to make. Now whether anyone else wants that stuff you produce is another entire discussion...
But returning to my central argument: you can make whatever you want and call it art. That's as long as it stays in your studio or is given as a gift or simply decorates your family members wall. As soon as it enters that exotic realm known affectionately as "The Art World" it becomes something else again. This is where the expectations change and the concept of art as "product" appears.
Products are admired for being uniform, intentional and pretty easy to describe. For example, if you make seating accommodations in your atelier, your product should bear some resemblance to a chair, that is, it should have (at minimum) a seat and legs of some kind. People quite correctly request an item that answers to their needs to sit.
Art is not always like this. When galleries or collectors or random cranks request art that resembles product, all kinds of  trouble ensues. For one thing, many artists have no idea what the next thing they make is going to look like. Yes, it may all fall loosely under the heading "painting" or "print" or even (heaven forbid) "sculpture" but other than that, it can look like anything. Or nothing. I suppose fundamentally that is a central sticking point to the need for galleries (essentially stores where art is sold) to sell whatever it is they sell. Art.
But when gallerists start demanding that the next picture be the same as the last picture (or last thirty pictures), that's a problem. Art shouldn't have to look like itself, although possibly over time, the mature artist develops a style and therefore is somewhat recognizable. A Matisse looks pretty much like a Matisse most of the time. A Degas looks like a Degas and on. But contemporary art doesn't always play by those rules and it's not uncommon for an artist (in full blown post-studio mode) to make a video, do a painting and also exhibit something altogether different (that looks like yesterday's regurgitated lunch.) That's okay. It keeps things interesting. I think high end established artists feel this less than early career artists who are persistently admonished to produce the same piece many times over... especially if that piece sold.
The sold piece is therefore more desirable, and everyone wants the same piece. This is where the art fair model starts looking pretty awful. We had the pleasure of attending one recently in NYC. There was a whole lot of product on hand- and not much art. So many galleries were selling things that resembled other offerings on display at another booth. There was lots of product.
I confess: art is not easy to sell. It's gnarly and stubborn and quirky, all attributes that defy easy sales. But what's the alternative? A slew of mediocre products that a few collectors want. Is anyone happy with this model?