RIP Jed Foronda

Robert Boyd

One of Houston's most interesting young artists just passed away. Jed Foronda was only 30 years old. I first saw his work in 2009, right about the time I started this blog. He had two pieces in the Big Show that year at Lawndale. I really liked his work in the show which was made of "excavated magazines" and wood. Here's one of them:


Jed Foronda, The Wheels Keep On Spinning, primer, wood, excavated Artforum, 2009

Now in 2009, I was just starting to look at local art seriously. I decided I really liked The Wheels Keep On Spinning so I called up Lawndale and asked if they would pass on a message to Foronda that I was interested in buying it.

When Foronda contacted me, he seemed slightly suspicious. It was as if he didn't really believe I was serious, like maybe I was a scammer of some kind. So he asked me to bring $300 to a Starbucks near the Galleria on a certain day at a certain time. I met him st the Starbucks, handed him fifteen 20s and he gave me Wheel. I hung it in the front hallway of my Mom's house (and she really likes it).

Here are a couple of details of The Wheels Keep On Spinning:

 
Jed Foronda, The Wheels Keep On Spinning (detail), primer, wood, excavated Artforum, 2009

 
Jed Foronda, The Wheels Keep On Spinning (detail), primer, wood, excavated Artforum, 2009

Foronda has occasionally made an appearance in this blog--see this post, this post and this one. Thirty is a cruelly young age for anyone to die. I know Foronda was well-loved by many, and my greatest sympathy goes out to his family and friends.

I Like Emily Link and Jed Foronda's Art

by Robert Boyd

But I can't review their new show. Too many conflicts of interest. I own pieces by both artists, and I'm on the board of Box 13, where their show, False Face High, is being exhibited. I want to review it, but three conflicts is just too many. So instead of a review, here are some photos from the show. Judge for yourself--and get down to the Box and see the work in person.( I may be getting the titles mixed up on these--apologies in advance.)



Jed Foronda, Pompadours, ink on paper, 2011



Jed Foronda, The Buddy System, ink on paper, 2011



Jed Foronda, Oh, It's Natural, ink on paper, 2011



Jed Foronda, Hey, Asia!, ink on paper, 2011



Jed Foronda, Hat Hair, ink on paper, 2011





Emily Link, Force of Three, mixed media, 2011





Emily Link, Divine Instruments, mixed media, 2011


Jed Foronda, No Fucking Worries, mirror, 2011

Artistic Capital and Ethics

by Robert Boyd

There are artists and there are people who involve themselves with art. This latter group includes gallerists, curators, critics, collectors, art space and museum directors, grant administrators, art school deans and directors, etc. Let's call the latter group gatekeepers, because their work involves exercising judgment about art. The two groups overlap. And in that overlap lies the possibility of ethical mischief.

The gatekeepers bestow artistic capital on the artists by choosing them. We may struggle with these choices, disagree with them, disagree with the very notion that a choice must be made and certainly with the theoretical frameworks on which the choices are made, whether stated or implicit. But in the end, there is more art produced than can be experienced , displayed, written about, or collected. There necessarily needs to be a culling process. Gatekeepers do this.

And each time a gatekeeper acts, an artist benefits. She gets some artistic capital (which, with luck, can be turned into economic capital). For example, every year Lawndale Art Center brings in a guest curator to act as the juror for The Big Show. In 2009, the juror was Laura Fried, who is an assistant curator at the St. Louis Contemporary Art Museum. Now the Big Show doesn't bestow a ton of artistic capital on the artists it shows. You haven't made it just because you had a piece in the Big Show. But it gives you a little artistic capital. You get seen by a lot of people. You get a line on your resume. And if you're lucky, you might sell a piece. That's what happened to Jed Foronda. Foronda is a young Houston artist who had two pieces in the 2009 show. I liked them and contacted him. Were they for sale? He said yes. So I bought one of them. So Foronda's artistic capital was turned into a small but nice chunk of economic capital.

But he also gained additional artistic capital by being collected. Different collectors bestow different levels of capital, of course. Charles Saatchi gives an artist he's collecting more artistic capital than, say, John and Becca Thrash, who in turn give a lot more than me. We're all collectors, but as collectors, our stock of artistic capital to spend varies wildly. But I give additional artistic capital above and beyond the meager supply I have as a collector because I'm also a critic. Foronda benefits from me not just because I bought a piece of his, but because I've written about his art. This is the way a critic bestows artistic capital. I've generally written good things about Foronda's art--but even if I had criticized it, he would have gotten a little artistic capital because being criticized by name means that your art is worth thinking about.


Jed Foronda, The Wheels Keep On Spinning (detail), masonite, magazines, 2009

But Foronda's stock of artistic capital is still pretty low. He hasn't had a solo exhibit (as far as I know), which would be how a curator would shell out artistic capital, nor is he represented by a commercial gallery (as far as I know), which is the main way a gallerist pays out artistic capital.

The reason I'm talking about this is because the ability to bestow artistic capital is power. And power can be abused.


Dan Clowes, from "The Artist's Life" (collected in Pussey!)1993

This abuse can be overt and obviously malign, as in these panels from one of Dan Clowes's scabrous "Dan Pussey" stories. But a different ethical issue for gatekeepers came up in conversation this weekend. What if you are a gatekeeper? You have an artistic soul, and maybe you studied art. Maybe you're a Sunday painter. Do you exhibit your own art? Do you promote yourself as an artist, in addition to being a (gallerist, critic, curator, collector, etc.)?

My answer is that you probably shouldn't because you already have some power, some artistic capital to spend. If someone else wants to be on the receiving end of your artistic capital, they won't want to turn you down when you ask to be in a group exhibit or gallery show, or if you ask to have your stuff reviewed. So because of the power you have, you may displace an artist who has no power. You, as a gatekeeper with artistic capital to spare, might prevent an artist with none from being in an exhibit or a group show, all because of your own artistic vanity.

The thing is, there are curators and artists and gallery managers and owners and even collectors who do their own artwork. They are sincere and serious artists. But for me, from an ethical point of view, they need to be very careful about what they do with their art. They need to make sure that they are not getting shown because of their position in the art world, because of the artistic capital they have in their pockets to spend. In general, I think they should err on the side of not being exhibited. But that might be my inner goody-two-shoes talking.

2010 Group Show at Poissant Gallery

Another group show at Poissant Gallery, and like the last one, this one is quite good. Poissant has one big advantage over many other galleries in town--it's huge, and it contains several distinct spaces. In the front, there are two pieces by Jed Foronda, both using his excavated magazine technique.


Jed Foronda, Excavation #17, magazine, painted wood panel, 2010

There's nothing new here for him, just subtle variations on a technique he has already perfected. Foronda uses inherently colorful magazines like Artforum and Playboy, which help guarantee that each layer that is excavated will have lots of colors on them. But it might be interesting to use the same technique on a magazine of book where all the pages are white with black type. As it is, the works are all about the relationship with a colorful, irregular hole with the white, straight edge of the board. The sculptural aspect of it is important, but maybe not as important as the colors. But magazines fade, so these pieces will undoubtedly change over time. And in some ways, we might be at the beginning of the twilight of the printed magazine. How much longer will Playboy and Artforum survive as paper magazines?

The next room is the biggest. Poissant Gallery calls it the South Gallery. This is where they put the drawings and wood carvings of kayaking enthusiast Jason Makepeace. Makepeace is a highly skilled woodcarver who has show work at Poissant Gallery before, including some highly unexpected wooden sculptures of slinkies. This time around, he's carving scale model kayaks, but leaving the job partly undone.


Jason Makepeace, Half Kayak, hackberry log and paint, 2010


Jason Makepeace, Embedded Kayak, ash log and paint, 2010

I guess these pieces relate the modern kayak (or canoe), which is a high-tech manufactured leisure object which could only be produced by a highly advanced economy, to the origins of this mode of transportation--the dugout canoe, which is surely one of the earliest vehicles made by humans. There is also a cool contrast between natural and crafted here (it makes me think of Al Khazneh of Petra), and the small size of the kayaks calls forth images of toy boats, scale models that little boys love (I know I did). They are beautiful pieces.


Michael King, Night Clock, oil, wax and enamel on metal plates laminated onto MDF, 2010

Michael King did a pair of pieces, Night Clock and Day Clock. The combination of materials seems unusually complex given the minimalism of the pieces. But these aren't strictly flat-flat colored rectangles. It's hard to see from my photos, but there is a grid of each of the rectangular elements, and subtle variations in color. Think of Ad Reinhardt, another artist whose nearly monochrome paintings don't photograph well.


Michael King, Day Clock, oil, wax and enamel on metal plates laminated onto MDF, 2010

 What I can't figure out is why these two pieces are "clocks." But whatever, I like them--they look great.


Lee Littlefield, Big Mouth Tattoo, wood-vines and enamel, 2010

I love seeing Lee Littlefield's work, especially on the side of the road driving around Houston. This one is a little unnerving. It looks like one of those worms or fish that is all teeth and mouth--horrible alien eating machines. Contrast that image with the sunny colors. Nice yet creepy piece.


Devon Moore, Drift, industrial dye and acrylic lacquer on steel, 2008

I like this one by Devon Moore because of the way it looked like pitted, corroded industrial metal. But I was uneasy looking at it. It's the kind of piece one can easily see decorating the lobby of an office building. Artistic empty calories. A piece like this is nice to look at, beautiful even. But I am suspicious of its beauty. And I feel attracted to a piece like this, I understand the mistrust of beauty that many critics and artists express. But at the same time, I want to be receptive to beauty. And this piece, with its evocations simultaneously of corrosion and star fields, is indeed beautiful.

The Big Show at Lawndale 2010, part 1

A little over a year ago, I started writing about art in Houston regularly. My reason was to use writing as an excuse to get out of the house and see art. I was becoming too much of a couch potato, see? I always went to see museum shows and whatever was happening at Diverse Works, but I wasn't going to galleries or seeing much of what was happening at the other great art spaces in Houston.

Consequently, when I saw The Big Show last year, it was with virgin eyes, so to speak. Here was a show that, in a way, captured a moment of a regional scene about which I knew nothing. So I was completely unfamiliar with the artists being shown.

Obviously this year is different. While there were still plenty of artists in the Big Show I didn't know, but this time around, I was familiar with a lot of them.

This got me thinking about curating a show like this. The concept behind The Big Show is that anyone can enter (as long as they are from the area and pay the entry fee), and some outside curator is the juror. In this case, Paul Middendorf from galleryHOMELAND in Portland. OR. He helicopters in, looks at a bunch of art, and picks some. Compare this to what a curator usually does. She has an idea--either a unifying concept or an artist whose work she is interested in or some combination. When she picks artists, she does so because she is aware of what they have done in the past. For her, the work in the show she curates has a kind of context based on her knowledge of the artists in the show.

Middendorf, on the other hand, had no idea where the artists he picked were coming from. Was a given piece that he chose the culmination of some process for an artist? Or was it a one-off? Last year, as a viewer, I was in the same circumstance as the juror. These pieces were, for me, without context (aside from the context of the show itself). This time, I have specific knowledge of some of the artists (I even own pieces by a three of them), and a more general knowledge of the scene they represent. And that made viewing the show a really different experience in 2010 than it was in 2009.

Jed Foronda, Excavation #15, excavated magazine, wood panel, white primer, 2010

Jed Foronda is one of the artists in this year's show who was also in last year's. I really liked his pieces in last year's Big Show. So much so that I bought one, The Wheels Keep on Spinning. The pieces from last year resemble this piece--they all use "excavated magazines" as part of the content. What Foronda does is to take a magazine and carve on subsequent pages more-or-less concentric shapes, which leave the magazine looking a little like a terraced open-pit mine. It is then mounted behind a white wood panel which itself has a shape cut out of it that is concentric with the cut out parts of the magazine. Last year's works were highly symmetric. The pictures were perfectly square, and the excavations were more-or-less circular. This year, the picture has a less regular shape (although it is still bilaterally symmetric), and the excavation doesn't even attempt to be regular. The work is inherently more dynamic.

Between last year's big show and this year's, I had seen no Foronda work--not in any group shows or at any galleries. But apparently he spent at least some of that time developing his excavation ideas. (But he was also drawing--see the two drawings he donated to Box 13 for their raffle.) While the basic concept remains the same, this Excavation #15 feels like a stronger piece than the earlier ones. He has extended the vocabulary of the technique he developed. I'm impressed.

I don't have last year's catalog, but I noticed a few "repeat" artists. There was another provocation by John Runnels (last year, it was the word "fuck", this year, it's lots of naked ladies), and more sickeningly realistic sculptures of mold by Jasmyne Graybill.

But more than repeat artists (there are probably many more than the three I've mentioned) are artists whose work has been seen in other venues. There is a sense that The Big Show is for "emerging" artists. But the rules state anyone can enter, so it's not surprising therefore that some more established artists have done so.

Jeff Forster, Frailty, native clay, porcelain, found object, 2010

This compelling portrait of decay by Jeff Forster was displayed at Poissant Gallery earlier this year. He's also one of the artists whose work I won at the Box 13 raffle.

Joseph Cohen, Proposition 113B, reclaimed latex and latex on walnut, 2009

Joseph Cohen, Proposition S-11, reclaimed latex, enamel and latex on driftwood and steel, 2009

Cohen's work has been shown at Wade Wilson. He's one of my favorite artists in Houston, and his work definitely stood out in the context of this show--it was simultaneously assured and daring. His paintings are inherently sculptural, and here he took the next step and displayed a painted sculpture. The work is about waist high, and it has--like his paintings--the drippy plastic look. Given the reclaimed and modest materials he uses, and the sculptural way he uses paint, I am reminded both of early Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg.

Amy Weiks, Lick No. 1, hand-dyed terrycloth, Poly-fil, thread and seed beads, 2008

Weiks had work in the group show Not the Family Jewels earlier this year. She seems to be part of the fine art/craft nexus that is happening in art right now. (See the current show at CAMH, for example.) This necklace is both cute and slightly disgusting at the same time.

Several other pieces in the show also demonstrated exceptional craftsmanship. A pair of pieces that really wowed people were by Catherine Winkler Rayroud.

Catherine Winkler Rayroud, Women's Liberation? What Liberation, papercutting made in one piece with nail scissors, 2008

Catherine Winkler Rayroud, Set Yourself Free!, papercutting made in one piece with nail scissors, 2008

Catherine Winkler Rayroud, Set Yourself Free! detail, papercutting made in one piece with nail scissors, 2008

Catherine Winkler Rayroud, Set Yourself Free! detail, papercutting made in one piece with nail scissors, 2008

Rayroud is engaging in a strategy that, by now, is traditional in some streams of feminist art--she is using craft to deal with feminist themes. Specifically a craft that is typically associated with women. This strategy allows the work to operate on two levels. First, the content of the work (silhouette depictions of lace underwear, with feminist vignettes within the lace). Second, the medium, by being a craft associated with women, challenges the (male-defined) concept of what is art (painting, sculpture, architecture) and what is craft. Had this work been done in 1970, it would have been a revolutionary challenge to old hierarchies. But the old academic definitions of what is art and what is not has been pretty thoroughly demolished by now (with the help of feminist art). The pieces come off, in a way, as nostalgic. But they are beautiful, and there's nothing wrong with nostalgia.

But there's an irony in these pieces being in this show, because one thing you can definitely say about this Big Show--it has a lot of naked ladies.

Stuart Kimbrell, The Virgin Mary, oil paint on stretched canvas, 2010

Some were elegant. Some were absurd.

Melanie Loew, Honey Bunny, oil on found fabric on canvas, 2010

K. Eisenbeiss, Buffalo Spwy 3333, photograph, 2010

This piece is a headscratcher for me. It is an image that holds you, certainly. It's a classic sexist situation in art--naked woman with clothed man. It is hard to construct a mental narrative that matches what is in this photo. They appear to be on a high floor in a highrise building (presumably near Buffalo Speedway, although not at 3333 Buffalo Speedway--there doesn't appear to be a highrise there). The astroturf on the table is mysterious. He appears to be about to eat, and both are looking at the photographer with bland, neutral expressions. What about the photographer? Maybe if I could see some more of his (her?) work, I'd understand the piece better. Context, remember.

But K. Eisenbeiss seems to have no web presence. The "K." part carefully hides the photographer's gender. "Eisenbeiss" means "hot iron" in German. (That helps a lot. Not.)

There are several other naked or semi-naked ladies in the show. I wonder if someone took Paul Middendorf to Treasures while he was in town...

(Continued in Part 2)

New Acquisitions--Carrie A. Dyer, Jeff Forster and Marie Weichman at the Box 13 Raffle

Last night was the Empty Box fundraiser for Box 13. I knew it was going to be a raffle, and I knew there were quite a few artworks being raffled, but I wasn't sure how it was supposed to work. The way they did it was rather clever. The key was that a lot of artworks were being raffled. Dozens of pieces. The work varied wildly in style. So when you bought your raffle tickets, instead of putting them in one big bin, you actually chose the works you liked and put your ticket into a little box beside the work in question.



That way, you could be certain that you were buying a chance to win only works you like.


Kathy Kelley, our histories flow yesterday into tomorrow, tubes, bailing wire, wood, 2010

This was one of the pieces I selected, but I didn't win it (alas). Obviously, the more popular an individual piece was (and I think this one by Kathy Kelley was definitely popular), the smaller the chance you had of winning. But you could game this a little. You could shake the box and try to determine if anyone else had put in a ticket. If not, you could be virtually guaranteed to win that piece. That was not my approach, though. I bought a bunch of tickets (not out of a desire to win artwork, but in order to support an institution that I really love) and spread them to a variety of pieces that I liked. For instance, this photo:


Ben Ruggiero, Suspended Letter B, Austin, Texas, archival inkjet print

(I didn't win this one, though.) Or this pair of cuties by Jed Foronda:


Jed Foronda, Household Name, ink on paper, 2010

(I didn't win these two, either.)

The real fun began at 9 pm, when they started do drawings. It was a real Christmas-present opening atmosphere.



And in the end, I came home with four pieces. I paid a decent amount for my tickets, but the fact is that if I had bought any one of these pieces at a gallery, I would have paid more--much more depending on the piece. So for the many raffle winners, Empty Box was a bargain. I think this fundraiser is annual. For selfish reasons, I'd like to keep it small and intimate. But really, if you are a collector on a budget, it is well worth it to come out. And, as I said, what makes it work is the staggering amount of artwork contributed for the show. Houston artists support each other.

So here's what I got.


Jeff Forster, Object of Ceremony, wood-fired stoneware, 2009

You might recall Jeff Forster had a very interesting piece at Poissant Gallery a few months ago. That same piece is up at The Big Show right now. This aptly-named piece is very different, though.


Marie Weichman, Washclothes, stained porcelain slip drip fabric, 2008

I literally walked right by these at first. I though Weichman (an artist with whom I am not familiar), in a conceptual statement of some sort, had hung old chamois cloth and a pink rag. Then someone mentioned to me that they were ceramic. In a way, I had to ask myself why that makes a difference? This tension was, itself, attractive to me. So I dropped my ticket in and now they're mine. And I love them.


Carrie A. Dyer, descendants of the clouds one, digital print, 2008


Carrie A. Dyer, descendants of the clouds two, digital print, 2008

I liked these two pieces by Carrie Dyer. What appealed to me was the combination of digitally produced effects (which were fairly subtle) and hand-drawing. I know nothing about this artist (beyond what's on her website.) But one interesting coincidence--she is an assistant professor at Central Arkansas University in Conway--a town I occasionally visit for business.

The Empty Box was a really fun event, and I ended up with some really nice artworks. I'll definitely be there next year.

The Big Show at Lawndale

As I understand it, Lawndale has been doing "The Big Show" every year for the past 30 years. I don't know if the format has always been the same though. This version of it featured works by a whole bunch of artists from the Houston area. They were chosen by a guest curator from St. Louis from works by 409 artists who entered works (and paid an entry fee for the privilege). The show on the walls is what Laura Fried picked. You can see it until August 8.

I don't have any idea what was rejected from the show, but I was surprised by the number of paintings (as opposed to sculptures or video or installations or mixed media work). I was surprised by the number of basically realist paintings, or paintings that used elements of realism within postmodern contexts. It seems like a really conservative show over-all. That's OK. I was impressed by the painting prowess of Houston.


Kevin Peterson, Hope, oil on canvas, 2009

Like this amusing painting byt Kevin Peterson. The artist assures us that the man on the left is not meant to be Obama, and that indeed both men are white. He made this statement at a slide show given by the artists. Not all the artists spoke, though. I am pretty sure we didn't hear from Michael Arcieri, for example.


Michael Arcieri, Nation Builder, acrylic and oil on canvas, 2009

The idea here is kind of cheesy, juxtapozing a baroque style painting with grafitti. I think he may be suggesting that the two modes of expression are both highly coded in ways that their intended audiences would understand easily, even if they are opaque to 21st century gallery goers. I just like the contrast between the flatness of the grafitti and the depth and roundness of the baroque figures.


Michael Arcieri, Slave, acrylic and oil on canvas, 2009

Grafitti played a part in several pieces. Street art has come a long way since I was doing pieces in the early 80s. I like the way David Cobb painted an illusionistic depiction of basically flat grafitti here, and I like the feel of the railyard.


David S. Cobb, Blue Camel, acrylic on board, 2009


Mindy Kober showed slides of her work over time (as many of the artists did). Her work began being done mostly with gouache but she recently changed to using crayon.


Mindy Kober, Contemplating the Universe, crayon and gouache on paper, 2009

The reason she gave was simple--crayons were cheaper than gouche. The recession has hit everyone hard, hey.

Jed Foronda was one of the slide show artists. He showed a lot of older work that seemed fairly loud and colorful, a little like Ben Jones, but now, as he put it, "painting wasn't working" for him anymore. What he was doing now was excavating magazines with a sharp knife, creating these debossed objects that, in contrast to the earlier work in his slides, seem quite elegant.


Jed Foronda, Glory Hole No. 8, primer, wood, excavated Artforum, 2009

I like how they look like colorful, terraced open-pit mines.


Jed Foronda, The Wheels Keep On Spinning, primer, wood, excavated Artforum, 2009


Jed Foronda, The Wheels Keep On Spinning, primer, wood, excavated Artforum, 2009 (seen from an angle)

Foronda said the best magazines to use for this kind of piece were art magazines and porno magazines--because they both have really good colors.


John Runnels, From the Series: Whisky Tango Foxtrot - For Ultimate Carnal Knowledge, encyclopedia and bookends, 2009

There are a couple of punks in the show. This by John Runnels piece amused me. It was also one of the few sculptural pieces in the show.

Jasmyne Graybill managed to get three sculptures in the show. Well-deserved--these pieces are astonishing (and really disgusting in a totally surprising way).


Jasmyne Graybill, Specklebelly, steamer basket and polymer clay, 2008

Yech, right?


Jasmyne Graybill, Citruspur, lime squeeze, polymer clay and plastic, 2008

This is art you can almost smell--musty, gag-inducing. The craftsmanship is astonishing.


Jasmyne Graybill, Crested Buttercream Polyps, muffin pan and polymer clay, 2008

I love them. Perfect art for the kitchen!

Over all, the artists seemed too smart. Lots of references to other art and to art history were worn too close to the surface. When the artists spoke, they often spoke of "exploring issues around" this or that. I kept waiting for someone to say, "I paint X because I like X." For all the skill shown here, I didn't feel much. Even the political pieces seemed old hat. I saw reflections of art from New York and elsewhere, filtered through BFA and MFA programs. This may be unfair because I know not all the artists come out of that world of university art education. And I liked a lot of the work! I just wasn't blown away by much, and maybe part of the reason for that was hearing the artists speak about their work. Maybe that was a mistake.

The earnest, intelligent artist statements perhaps gave me extra appreciation for Jim Nolan's slide presentation. He described his work as post-minimalist, and name-checked one of my least favorite artists of the 80s, Joel Shapiro, but in contrast to so many of the artist here, he felt free to declare, "I try to stay away from craftsmanship as much as possible." After all, he added, "if you spend a lot of time on something, does it get better?"