Showing posts with label Lucinda Cobley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lucinda Cobley. Show all posts

Friday, March 29, 2013

Translucence: A Talk with Lucinda Cobley

Virginia Billeaud Anderson

Lucinda Cobley is intellectually engaged with her process of painting and printing on transparent materials such as etched glass and clear plastic. The artist possesses impressive knowledge of her materials and at times sounds like a scientist when discussing light refraction or the chemical properties of marble dust. Her practice is to apply oils or acrylics mixed with minerals and pigments such as alabaster, malachite or marble dust, onto stacked sheets of Mylar, frosted plexi, or glass, so that textured paint, reflected light and shadows resolve into meditative translucence.

Cobley recently opened her Sequence exhibition at Wade Wilson Art (up through April 27), and when I previewed it I was disarmed by seeing all of her favorite materials in a single exhibition. There was complexity and cohesion in the presentation that moved me. To anchor my understanding of her chosen process, as well as her evolution in the last five years, I asked a few questions.


Lucinda Cobley, Intervals No. 5, 2012, Ink on plastic, 50 x 40 inches

Virginia Billeaud Anderson: Let’s begin with printing. You are exhibiting mono prints in Sequence, and simultaneously in Santa Fe. Last year you exhibited prints in Wade Wilson’s Impressions show, and in the Spring Street exhibition, and at the Museum of Printing History in October. Tell me about your printing.

Lucinda Cobley: I had not done any print making for many years. It evolved out of working with transfer drawings using carbon paper. I realized I was making a simple print, so that led to mono printing using a brayer, a rubber roller, and a sheet of glass. At first I tried to keep things simple and clean but after a while I began to “let go” and that process became exciting once I began to print from various surfaces such as strips of wood and rubber. About a year ago I joined Burning Bones Press, a print-making co-operative so I could have access to a printing press and evolve. I got excited about re-reading Paul Virilio’s The Aesthetics of Disappearance. Virilio’s book got my brain working!

VBA: That’s impossible reading. I’ll never forget the day I saw those large sheets of plastic drying in the sun. Blue-toned ink created translucent horizontal forms that were also grid-like. Passages ranged from visually abrupt to faint and timid. Many reminded me of waves.

LC: The horizontality of the Intervals series was akin to landscape - water and sky began to materialize out of forms created from the brayer's lap marks which appeared like changing atmospheric effects and time elapsing, as the ink petered out across the surface. Intervals (transition), one of the new pieces from this year, is a hybrid work. I started by using a brayer and transferring marks by mono printing methods, but then went into it with a brush and worked it into a painting. But I used printmaking ink, which is different from drawing ink such as India ink. It's more viscous.


Lucinda Cobley, Intervals (transition), 2013, Ink on plastic, 44 x 36 inches

VBA: You are known for your layered glass works, and of course glass design was a specialty in your art education in England. (It might surprise you to know I’m aware of two other Houston-based artists who completed postgraduate work at Central Saint Martin’s, both teachers.) Talk about your glass work.

LC: The (Dis)appearance triptych in “Sequence” is glass, it’s made with acrylic and pigments on etched glass. It contains 3 glass panels that I “etched” into, with the sandblasting process. The panels are etched on the reverse side.

VBA: That triptych’s coloring is subdued compared to the more boldly colored glassworks in the 2010 Revision series. I recall a striking magenta with weird blurring. Color seemed to float.

LC: For Revision, I painted on both sides of the glass, so it’s fair to say paint was vigorously applied. Also I sandblasted both sides of the glass, meaning I used compressed air to shoot sand to give the glass a granular texture. Due to layering, etching and textured paint, those works have the perception of depth, the reflection and translucency I desire.


Lucinda Cobley, from the Revisions Series, 2010, 2011, Oil and pigment on glass

VBA: You incorporate plexi into works, and some of the new plexi pieces have mirrors.

LC: My Reverb series is made of plexi and mirror plexi. Each piece has three stacked layers - two plexi layers and one plexi mirror, all painted with acrylic and pigment.


Lucinda Cobley, Reverb ii from the Reverb Series, 2013, Acrylic and pigment on plexi with mirror plexi, 44 x 36 inches

VBA: Because we’ve discussed it in the past, I’m aware of your strong interest in pigments. You studied their properties formally, and seriously studied the history of their use from the Neolithic through the ancient Egyptians and Romans, and subsequent eras. And you have lectured on and taught classes on mixing pigments.

LC: Yes, by adding pigments one can alter paint’s texture, and alter color visually. Particles embedded within the paint change it granularly so surface quality can be a crystalline finish perhaps or a matte finish. Marble dust is one of my favorites.

VBA: Also graphite.

LC: Sequence includes works from my Transposition: Graphite series. In them acrylic is mixed with graphite on drafting film. I enjoy combining graphite powder with matte fluid acrylic medium. It seems to contrast and also be comparable to painting with white pigments such as marble dust. Both have had long historical use as pigments.

VBA: OK, after you mix acrylic paint with a medium, and a pigment, what tools or implements do you use for application?

LC: I use a variety of tools - a brush, squeegee, spatula, palette knife.


Lucinda Cobley, From the Transposition: Graphite Series, 2013, Acrylic and pigment on plastic, 26 x 19 inches

VBA: Plastic makes up a significant part of your portfolio, and it turns out one of your plastic pieces, Revision: White 1, entered the permanent collection of the MFAH. Curator Rebecca Dunham put Revision: White 1 in the museum’s 2011 Synthetic Support: Plastic is the New Paper exhibition, which included works by Jasper Johns who innovated the technique of drawing with ink on translucent polyester film. You told me at the time of the acquisition that Revision: White 1 had layered sheets of plastic painted with acrylic mixed with selenite crystal, and that the ancient Babylonians called the mineral selenite “moon dust.” A shaft of moonlight in your bedroom inspired that painting.

LC: MFAH hung me next to a Man Ray!


Lucinda Cobley, Colour Transposition Series 5, 2013, Acrylic and pigments on plastic, 12 x 12 inches

VBA: Lucinda, you once used the word “rhythm” in an artist statement, and in my opinion it’s a proper word for the new small-scale plastic pieces. Most have disarranged columnar forms and diagonals, with estranging colors.

LC: The 12 x 12 works are from my Colour Transposition series, in which each piece is made with 2 layers of polyester drafting film, which is actually Mylar. Paint application varied from thick to thin veils of color, I used both runny liquid paint and more viscose paint, and some paints are mixed with a variety of pigments. I attempted to pair the sheets that seemed to work together. An “eclipsing” takes place as the upper painting creates a dynamic with the lower, obscuring almost completely or contrasting in a way that is visually compelling. After pairing, I tried to unify the whole by reworking the surfaces, adding and erasing paint.

The choice of forms - the vertical blocks and diagonals are simple shapes that are vehicles for experimenting with color and texture. The forms are derivative of tree trunks or branches but in misshapen fragmented states, as if seen through a veil.

VBA: For all that is deliberate, your process is sprinkled with randomness.

LC: It pleases me you get that. Colour Transposition allowed surprises - heavier gestural marks and unexpected hues. I can do something radically different each time. I enjoy working in a way that offers the possibility of chance arrangements, it keeps the process fresh.


Lucinda Cobley, Colour Transposition Series 2, 2013, Acrylic and pigments on plastic, 12 x 12 inches

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Thursday, March 14, 2013

Pan Recommends for the week of March 14 to March 20

Robert Boyd

THURSDAY

 
Ron Regé, Jr., The Cartoon Utopia p. 16, panel 6, January 20, 2009, 7" x 8.5"

Comics: Works From the Collection of Robert Boyd at the Emergency Room (402 Sewell Hall, Rice University) at 6 pm, with a talk at 7, up through April 11. I heard this was going to be excellent.

FRIDAY

 
Tatiana Istomina, 26 Portraits: heads of Russiaʼs Federal Security Services (FSB) from 1917 to 2010, based on the official website of the FSB (detail: n. 17 and 24), 2010, watercolor on paper, a group of 26 drawings, 9" x 6"

2013 Core Exhibition with work by Miguel Amat, Anthea Behm, Jang Soon Im, Tatiana Istomina, Anna Elise Johnson, Senalka McDonald, Madsen Minax and Ronny Quevedo at the Glassell School of Art, 6 pm, running through April 21. The Core exhibit is always worth checking out, if also often somewhat perplexing. What are the odds that some piece of art in this show will include cinder blocks?

 
Melanie Loew, 2012, Oil on fabric, 11x14 inches 

Lynn Lane and Melanie Loew: Cats, Bunnies, and The Surface Value of It All at Fresh Arts, 6 pm, up through March 26. Photos and paintings of people with cats and/or bunnies? I'm there!

Katie Wynne, The Sylphides have the beast captured and are grooming him, 2011, cardboard, house paint, string, rope, tape, glue, fabrics, wood, furniture and architectural scraps, nails, screws, wrapping paper, metallic basket filler, sequins, motorized tie racks, a tassel, a poster and a plaid shirt, dimensions variable

6 shows at Lawndale (featuring work by Mike Beradino, Richard Nix, Rahul Mitra, Katie Wynne, Brian Benfer, Sharbani Das Gupta, Jessica Dupuis, John Emerson, Jeff Forster, Kamila Szczesna, Daniel Anguilu and Aaron Parizette) at 6:30, through April 20. Lots of interesting work on view, and I am especially intrigued to see the mural collaboration between a mandarin and the street (Parizette and Anguilu).

SATURDAY

 
work by Ann Johnson

Municipal Dirt in Russ Pitman Park at Russ Pitman Park in Bellaire, 4 to 6 pm, up through April 26. Curated by Lucinda Cobley & June Woest and featuring James Ciosek, Lucinda Cobley, Melanie Crader, Michael Crowder, Danielle Frankenthal, Nelda Gilliam, Ann Johnson, Cathie Kayser, Mari Omori, Lelu Overbeck, Jennifer Overfield, Jacqueline Dee Parker, Lisa Qualls, Tecklenberg & Georgeson, Justin Varner, June Woest, and Jo Zider.Weather's supposed to be beautiful Saturday--that alone is a good excuse to go to the park. And all the art? Just a big bonus!

Family Values at UP Art Studio, 6 pm, open through March 23. Features work by the Bernal Family Collective with Luis Guzman, Sae 1, Bryan Cope, Megan Thiede, and Santiago Paez IV. I have no idea what to expect (I can't find any photos), but I'm intrigued by the family art collective aspect.
 
Angel by Paul Darmafall aka The Baltimore Glassman, 20x42, broken glass on found particle board, 1988

Plain Sight with Paul Darmafall, Richard Gordon Kendall and "Remmy" at 14 Pews, 6 pm. Three outsider artists (two from Houston).


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Thursday, December 6, 2012

Pan Recommends for the week of December 6 to December 12

This is a relatively slow week compared to last week as we wind down towards Christmas. Here are a few shows and performances coming up that have caught our attention.

Thursday

Interface: Artists and the Digital Age at Williams Tower Art Gallery at 6 pm [up through January 11]. This show has a wide selection of artists, including several that I don't think of when I think "digital" (Aaron Parazette, Lillian Warren, Rusty Scruby). Interestingly, Rachel Whiteread is among the artists. Ironically, this show has no website.

Windows on Main at the corner of Main and Winbern (across the street from Double Trouble), 5 pm to 10 pm. Two installations are part of this edition of Windows on Main: "Congress Applauding (Address on the Program for Economic Recovery, Ronald Reagan, April 28, 1981" by Anna-Elise Johnson and "There was a man bitten by a snake" by Romain Froquet and Rahul Mitra. A nice place for a drink and some art.

Friday

ZZzzzzzz by Nathaniel Donnett (as part of Stacks) at the Art League, 6 pm. I'm not sure whether to expect an installation or a performance or both, but Nathanial Donnett is going to use shredded stuffed animals and the dreams of four volunteers who slept in the gallery to access black imagination. Sounds like a tall order--I'm curious to see what he's done.

Cold War Paintings by Michael Acieri at Avis Frank, 6 pm. Arcieri is an artist who wears the influences of James Rosenquist and Gerhard Richter on his sleeve. Expect a little Mad Men nostalgia in this show.

Saturday

Background Noise, a studio art show by Lucinda Cobley and Nelda Gilliam at 218 Avondale, Houston TX 77006 from 11 am to 6 pm. Two Houston artists show their stuff. Expect abstractions on glass and plastic from Lucinda Cobley, if her past work is anything to go by.

Shaun El C. Leonardo performing Arena at the Progressive Amateur Boxing Association, 2 pm to 4 pm. Part of the CAMH's ongoing series of performances for Radical Presnece: Black Performance in Contemporary Art, this one promises to be action packed.

Autumn Knight and Megan Jackson: La Querelle Des Monstres at Project Row Houses from 7 to 9 pm. More performance this weekend. The description says it uses "conjoined twin culture." I had no idea that there was such a thing as conjoined twin culture, but I'm kind of naive that way.

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Thursday, May 24, 2012

Notes on Super 8

by Robert Boyd

I've been to plenty of art events at Winter Street Studios and Summer Street Studios, but I had never been to Spring Street Studios. (There is an Autumn Lane and a Fall Street in Houston, but no art studios on either as far as I know.) Group shows at art studios tend to be mixed bags (at best) because the artists working in those places are so varied, both in style and in quality. Super Eight at Spring Street seems to have made an effort to mitigate this. The number of artists on display was limited to eight, which permitted a deeper selection of work from each artist, as well as some quality control. Beyond that, it's hard to see what the selection principle was. Most of the work is painted, but there is a large variety of styles and subject matters. And there is some sculptural work, including an installation. I don't think it's important that I know how the artists were chosen and by whom, but it does make me wonder what these particular eight artists have in common. Perhaps they are all friends, which is as good a reason to display work together as any.

For the most part, Tito Fabian's art did nothing for me. It was political in the shallowest, most obvious way. The thing that struck me about his work (positively) was its construction out of triangular facets of plywood, which gave it a relief quality.


Micah the Artist, Good Times

Then there was Micah the Artist [sic]. His paintings for the most part weren't memorable, but Good Times caught my eye. What is being depicted here? A burrito? The ambiguity (and the resemblance to food) make this piece amusing. Placing this enormous food item in front of a vaguely-defined tan plane with pale green filigree just adds to the over-all strangeness of the painting. Good times indeed.


Kelley Devine, The Diary, book pages, charcoal, acrylic medium on canvas, 48" x 36"

The woman in Kelley Devine's The Diary is pensive, almost anxious. Like most of Devine's women, she has big eyes and a tiny cupid's bow lips. She doesn't look at the viewer. And the image rests on a ground of printed pages.

The pages are from a book called Anaïs Nin: An Introduction by Benjamin Franklin and Duane Schneider.I thought it was interesting that she didn't use pages from Nin's actual diary. Instead, the pages are from a scholarly book by two men. Given the nature of what Nin wrote (such as her works of erotica that were published as Delta of Venus and Little Birds), there is an ironic perversity, a kind of voyeurism, in using pages of a book about Nin as the ground in this piece. It puts the woman in the picture one-step removed from being on an actual diary. Does this suggest that Devine is deliberately keeping something revealed? Given that the women in her paintings often look something like her without quite being her, I think maybe there is a sense that her works aren't really diaries--or that they are diaries that are locked shut.


Lucinda Cobley, Interval 4, 2012, monoprint on plastic, 50" x 40"

Lucinda Cobley usually works on glass (and some of that work was in Super Eight). The glass sometimes gives her work a' "artsy" feel, as if announcing that it's precious. Glass feels decorative (and I don't mean to disdain the decorative, but it makes her work seem a little less serious). I have to admit, the glass rubs me the wrong way. Which is why I liked her three Intervals, which are monoprints on plastic. They feel very matter-of-fact compared to the glass paintings. I look at something like Interval 4, and I see ink rolled onto plastic with a crappy roller (the roller part of it appears to not have been perfectly round, or else the ink wasn't applied to it evenly, which is why there are vertical stripes in each horizontal band of blue). The beauty comes out despite the materials. And this appeals to me.


Sarah Whatley, Sliced, 2012, mixed media

Sarah Whatley's pieces were made of X-ray photographs of human bodies. Most of the pieces displayed showed the Xrays cut into the silhouetted  shapes of women's clothes, and I found them a little cutesy and clever, but obvious. Perhaps they were saying that clothes are just a covering for the biological organism, the animal, beneath.


Sarah Whatley, Sliced, 2012, mixed media

But Sliced is a different story. This installation was in a darkened room. The "bed" is constructed of clothe draped over a metal frame. Inside the bed is a light source. And Whatley has constructed two lifesize "paper dolls" out of Xrays. They are depicted having sex with one another. One of them is a woman wearing what appears to be lingerie and high heels (who wears high heels to bed outside of porn films? Or am I just being naive?). The piece, glowing in the blackness of the room, is quite arresting. And much more than her other pieces here, this is very successful in foregrounding the biological underpinning of the erotic.


Kevin Peterson, Rocket, oil on panel

With graffiti and street art becoming such an important aspect of contemporary art, Kevin Peterson seems well-positioned to benefit. But his use of street art is highly eccentric. He paints highly rendered realistic paintings of objects and walls covered with graffiti.


Kevin Peterson, Keep Out, oil on panel, 40" x 28"

Much of the graffiti he depicts is "tagging." I haven't seen tagging referred to as art (unlike the more ambitious variations of "wild style"), although one could make a case for it in terms of being a kind of vernacular calligraphy. But he will sometimes paint "wild style" graffiti, as in the pieces on the dinosaur in Keep Out.


Kevin Peterson, Inked II, oil on panel, 57" x 46"

But Inked II suggests that Peterson is not interested in graffiti per se, but redrawing art in situ. So art on a piece of playground equipment, art on a wall, art on a dinosaur sculpture--or art on a blonde woman. Of course, the art he repaints in his paintings is art that arises from (and is often created by) the working class. It's not the art of MFAs (more and more ambitious graffiti artists are getting MFAs these days, though). Tattoos and graffiti art have only impacted bourgeois and elite sensibilities after spending many decades as the art of ghettos and sea ports.

But it would be interesting to see Peterson branch out a bit. What if he did paintings of art installations? Highly rendered realistic paintings of, say, a Cildo Meireles, an Ernesto Neto, a Daniel Buren, or a Tara Donavan installation. Particularly of ephemeral installations. I, for one, would find that pretty excellent--painting paying homage to post-painting.


 Kevin Peterson, Chipmunk, oil on panel, 32" x 21" (with actual playground "chipmunk")

With Chipmunk, Peterson displayed both the painting and the subject, which begs the question. Did Peterson acquire this worn, graffiti covered playground ride like this, or did he buy a relatively clean one and cover it with graffiti himself? Is it a found object, or a found object that he manipulated after the fact?


several small piece by Matt Messinger

One of Houston's most under-rated artists in Matt Messinger. He recently started showing at Devon Borden, which may change his status a bit. But here he was, selling great work cheap. (Full disclosure--I bought one of his whale prints, which you can see above roughly in the middle of this photo.)


Matt Messinger, Pluto

Messinger uses found images, often from 30s-era animated cartoons. That by itself is interesting (why such old images, redolent of the Depression and its rich popular culture?), but the way he combines them with drippy paint and ink and deliberately distressed painting surfaces adds another layer. They don't feel like they were created--they feel like they were excavated.


Matt Messinger, 3 Bears Button Stack

His sculptural works also have a nostalgic feel.  The ceramic collectible that form the basis of 3 Bears Button Stack is like something your grandmother might have bought.


Matt Messinger, Fox

Another subject matter that pops up in Messinger's work are animals. Fox has an illustrational image of a fox, which may or may not be appropriated. But the patched-together ground and drips of white paint or gesso give it the damaged look that typifies so much of Messinger's painted work.


Matt Messinger, #9

In this exhibit, there are several pieces where the figures are white and the ground is black. In addition to the painted images, he has written on these black paintings. In #9, he is tallying something up. There are columns of hashmarks, marking every five things (whatever he was counting). This kind of casual note-to-oneself right on the canvas reminds me a bit of Jean-Michel Basquiat. There a lot of artists in Houston influenced by Basquiat, and I guess Messinger falls into that category to an extent. But his work has its own vocabulary and style.


David Hardaker, MM-Destroyed #1, 2012, oil and household paint on canvas, 40" x 30"

David Hardaker also gives his paintings a deliberately damaged look. His paintings are appear damaged by violence, usually by pouring house paint over a highly-rendered image, instead of by wear and tear (as Messinger's appear to be). The images under the house paint are paintings of high-fashion models, presumably taken from magazines or catalogs. (Although I guess it's possible that Hardaker hires models.) The notion of throwing paint onto these images of women is disturbing. Because they are elegant, fashionable and sexy, it could be interpreted as a violent fear or disgust of women's sexuality. They might be seen as a metaphor for acid attacks, which are sometimes perpetrated against women in Pakistan and elsewhere by jealous husbands or religious fanatics. If interpreted this way, they are very disturbing images.


David Hardaker, JS-Destroyed #2, 2012, oil and household paint on canvas, 40" x 30"

In a piece like JS-Destroyed #2, the house paint covers the figure's entire face, erasing her identity. As an image of a model posing in kimono-like dress with a plunging neckline, there was already objectification taking place. But in JS-Destroyed #2, she is completely dehumanized.  Now another way to interpret this is that Hardaker is pointing out that this kind of high-fashion image is inherently dehumanizing. Pouring paint on it could even be thought of as a protest of this kind of commercial vapidity.


David Hardaker, Head Like a Hole, 2012, oil on canvas, mounted on board, burned, 16" x 16"

But it's hard not to conclude that Hardaker likes putting the women he depicts through hell; he douses them in house paint, and in Head Like a Hole, he burns a hole through his subject's forehead. No matter how you interpret them, they are unsettling.

The space, Spring Street Studios, turns out to be a pretty ideal place to display work, especially flat work. Four very wide hallways (built to accommodate a forklift, it seems) form a square. Each artist had plenty of space. There was very little salon-style hanging of works. I hope there will be more shows like this there.


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Saturday, April 9, 2011

How "green" is your g(art)den?

by Dean Liscum (all photos by Dean Liscum)

"Defining Green" is an outdoor installation at Russ Pittman Park at at 7112 Newcastle, Bellaire, TX 77401. It's curated by the Dirt Committee Artists for Defining Green, which consists of June Woest, Lisa Qualls and Lucinda Cobley. They have a blog, Muncipal Dirt, which provides additional information about this show as well as past shows (this is the 3rd annual) in Pittman Park.  The title, theme, and I assume working premise of the show is "defining green." As I viewed the show during a curator lead walk by June Woest and Eric Duran, I thought about what "green" means.

Woest's piece Interpreting Horticultural Therapy recycles on multiple levels. First it re-purposes natural materials (leaves and tree stump) that have completed their primary purpose. Second, as alluded to by the title, it re-purposes human energy so that the activity becomes not only what it, horticulture as work, but also something else, therapy. Today, it's a trend. In 1911, it would have made sharecroppers the senseis of mental health. (Oh, the difference context and a century makes!) Whatever the greenness, I like the juxtaposition of the leaves and the wood. Formally, they work for me. And if "green" is about recycling, this brown work is green.


June Woest and Urban Artists,  Interpreting Horticultural Therapy, 12 gage aluminum, leaves, 50 lb monofilament, 13' Height x 3' diameter

Michael Golden's now could be a gravestone for the "Green" movement and the earth itself or it could be a memorial meant to mark the moment in green. It could also be an inspirational touchstone concerning what is "green" now and what it will be in the future. The viewers perspective determines the definition of "green" and more importantly its tone.


Michael Golden, now, Dakota granite, 2011

Green Canopy by Cobley and Mari Omori tackles the challenge literally by translating "green" into 12 different languages and then cutting the words into a plastic sheath that they hung in a long chain-link corridor. The light through the leaves and translucent plastic speaks for itself. At dusk, it's an elegiac combination of human and natural materials and handiwork. If "green" represents harmony between man and nature, this piece is green.


Lucinda Cobley and Mari Omori, Green Canopy detail, 25’ x 6’, Hand-cut re-used polythene and clothes pegs


Lucinda Cobley and Mari Omori, Green Canopy detail, 25’ x 6’, Hand-cut re-used polythene and clothes pegs

The environment animates Defining Green Copper by Elena Lopez-Poirot.  It scintillates in the sunlight while the breeze blows the suspended pieces of copper. Of the works in the show, it's the one most likely to "green" as the copper oxidizes and is covered with a patina of verdigris. However, I doubt the chemical transformation will occur before the show closes. It falls in the green = harmony category.


Elena Lopez-Poirot , Defining Green, Copper

Nature had it's way with As it was in the beginning... According to Eric Duran, it started off as doll arms, legs, and heads emerging from or subsumed by the earth (finish the biblical quote and you get the "subsumed"). Based on the artist's description, I imagine the doll parts planted/emerging from the earth. However, I saw it 2 weeks after the opening and it looked more post-apocalyptic than antediluvian. Through heavy rain and strong winds, mother nature left her curatorial imprimatur. Out of either artistic integrity or indolence, the artist refused to rearrange it. From the title, I intuit that the work is about the circle of life. I experienced the work somewhere in the messy middle, no longer waxing and not completely waned. In this context, "green" seems to acknowledge that mother nature win. Do what you want but in the end she'll have her way with you.



Eric Duran, As it was in the beginning…. , Found objects

(Warning: Dolls were abused, some might say severely abused depending upon how you interpret dismemberment, in the making of this art work.)


Eric Duran, As it was in the beginning…. detail, Found objects

Amie Adelman left me ambivalent with her "Basketry". I wanted to both climb inside of it and run like hell from it. As for the question of how the piece "defined green", I have no idea. I was too busy wrestling with the Freudian implications of my response.


Amie Adelman, Basketry, Cotton line and round reed

(Inviting and yet...not so very)


Amie Adelman, Basketry, Cotton line and round reed

Hedge by Lisa Qualls and Lotus Bermudez is clever and possibly insidiously "green". Is its green coloring from microbes that will cover and consume the refuse that remains when we've turned each other into fertilizer? If so, hopefully a few artistically inclined humans will remain to neatly arrange the detritus. It's definitely in the "you're mother nature's bitch" category.


Lisa Qualls and Lotus Bermudez, Hedge, Ceramic and wire, 2011

Roll Me! apparently arrived at the park on opening day as a bunch of painted wooden slates, plastic ties, and a sign written by artist Patric Renner that said something like "Help me make art out of these natural materials." Renner collaborated with the audience and Roll Me! is what the viewers who were present for the opening made. Maybe "green" is what we make of it.


Patrick Renner and anonymous collaborators, Roll Me!, wooden slates and plastic ties, 2011

Urban Intrusion by Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl is an ecological lecture (in sculptural form) about how man-made systems affect natural systems. The concrete boxes containing branches are laid out in the pattern of a branching root system. The compartmentalized pieces allude to the disruption that our infrastructure imposes on nature's infrastructure. The concrete and plexiglass boxes metaphorically represent the isolation and disruption the human systems cause to the natural ones. For this piece, I'm going with "green" = harmony, or everyone and everything ends up in concrete boxes.


Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl, Urban Intrusion detail, 2011

(The branch, which looks to be covered in concrete, has the word "Decay" embossed on it.)


Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl, Urban Intrusion detail, 2011

(Concrete boxes laid out like coffins or sewer drains or fire hydrants or ...)


Lesli Robertson and Rene Muhl, Urban Intrusion section, 2011
Like Roll Me!, Celebrating Nature was the result of artist (Susan Plum) and audience collaboration. I'm not sure who did what or what the symbolism of it was but here's the result, which I can only interpret as adulation. I do know that they wanted to adorn the tree with lighted candles and the park ranger said "No".


Susan Plum and anonymous collaborators, Celebrating Nature detail

So they embroidered candles on transparent cloth and attached them to the tree. "Green" you can party both with and for sounds like a sustainable approach.


Susan Plum and anonymous collaborators, Celebrating Nature detail

Joseph Cohen and daniel-kayne chose to define "green" by marking time. They used the remnants of a fallen tree to both commemorate the tree but also create a piece that marks the passing minutes (via sundial) and years through the deterioration and weathering of the white "table top". The table top is actually a canvas painted white with an off-white circle impasto-ed in the center. The arrangement of the trunk seats and shape of and placement of the sundial heighten the contemplative nature of the piece. Is it tombstone (both the sundial in the center and the piece as a whole) or a touch stone? The weathered white paint conjures up the use of white as a funeral color in many cultures.   


Joseph Cohen and daniel-kayne, Untitled, 2010 – 2011, fallen oak, house-paint, cinder blocks, 5’x5’


Joseph Cohen and daniel-kayne, Untitled detail, 2010 – 2011, fallen oak, house-paint, cinder blocks, 5’x5’

I regret not being able to photograph Jennifer Overfield's Temperance because of the lack of light. It consists of a penciled outline of a daurian peony (I cheated and asked) with splashes of color on very thin vinyl sheet 54" x 43". At dusk in the slight breeze, it subtly shimmers. May be it was the moment, twilight, but for me this piece also fit into the momento mori category of green, grandiose but gone or going.

If after viewing this exhibit, someone were to ask me to define green, I'm not sure I could articulate a single definition or a clear call to action. But I do hope that the raising of my consciousness isn't just an ephemeral "green" fix that will dissipate like the humidity in my car as I cranked up the A/C for the long drive home.


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