Recent Acquisitions: Marzia Faggin, Eric Faggin and Woody Golden

As I mentioned in my last post, I bought some art at the AMG Stimulus Package.


Woody Golden, untitled, laminated paper, 2009

I mentioned in an earlier post how much I liked the work of Woody Golden. He's a sculptor, and the work I was responding to were these pieces where he carved a hole into a large book, then took the carved out pieces, laminated them, and sanded them into organic, stone-like shapes--then put them back into the void in the book.

This piece is related to those sculptures. Golden has again taken paper (colored paper this time), somehow laminated it into a solid block, then sanded it into this shape. The paper used is important. In the book projects, the paper was slightly yellowed and covered with small black type. The solid shape ended up being a pale tan with black speckles. They looked like smooth stones or of eggs--very natural and organic. But this piece, with its colors, looks more like an oversized piece of hard candy! (I got the long thin one. I wanted to show both, though. They look great against the grain of the plywood walls--kind of the perfect backdrop for them, don't you think?)


Eric Faggin, various untitled works, tape on paper

I was definitely attracted to this suite of paired pieces by Eric Faggin. The figures are made out of tape, and the red tape is much brighter in person--it's actually fluorescent. Anyway, they all looked great and the pairings were intriguing (often implying a dialogue between young and old, or across cultures, or between people who might be at odds for some personal reason). Here's the one I ended up getting.


Eric Faggin, untitled, tape on paper

Finally, I got a piece by Marzia Faggin. I have no idea what relationship Marzia and Eric Faggin have (if any). Google doesn't really turn up much on them. They were both in a recent group show at Poissant Gallery. There is an Eric Faggin who is a designer, but I don't know if this is the same guy.

Anyway, as I mentioned in my last post, Marzia Faggin's work goes in a lot of different directions.


Marzia Faggin, Zor and Zam, ceramic, paint and other materials, 2010

This is so unlike her paintings it's sort of a shock to think that it is by the same artist. The bullet, wings and flower seem to be glued on and perhaps made of plastic. The ceramic part is unglazed--the colors are paint. (At least as far as I can tell.) Of course there is a delicious irony in combining the flower and ceramic with the bullet. This aesthetic choice reminds me of the work of Charles Krafft, who makes machine guns and hand-grenades using the ancient somewhat kitschy, little-old-lady-like techniques of Delftware.

I think this genre of work (Faggin had another similar piece in the show) probably would have a lot of appeal to certain collectors. She should make molds of them and make multiples using slipcasting.  I could envision some beautiful glazes on them...

As I have mentioned before, I have a strong interest in accessible collecting--art collecting for beginners, one could say. I like schemes that bring high-quality art (with the value-judgments and presence of aesthetic gatekeepers that the word "quality" implies) to non-rich collectors. This show is a pretty successful example of this kind of thing. I certainly am happy with what I got--and if I had had more extra money to spend, I would have gotten more!

Dissatisfaction: A Talk with Marzia Faggin

Virginia Billeaud Anderson

Recently two Houston critics published reviews of Marzia Faggin’s Dissatisfaction exhibition at d.m. allison art, which can be seen through March 2, and if I invoke them, it’s because they are informative. Devon Britt-Darby, writing for Arts & Culture Magazine, considered Faggin’s thirteen wall mounted three-dimensional panels to be a continuation of the work she showed at Nau-haus Art in 2011, which he described as “life-size painted cast-plaster still lifes of potentially addictive pills like Lithium, Xanax and Adderall, which she juxtaposed with equally convincing replicas of equally addictive chocolates, cookies and other sugary snacks.” Faggin’s new work, according to Britt-Darby, “keeps the same intimate, life-size scale, but ups the ante both conceptually and formally. Candies, some half-eaten; pills; and snuffed-out cigarettes now sit along expertly cast and hand-painted copies of books from Faggin’s personal library. And what a library it is: Junky by William S. Burroughs, Albert Camus’s The Stranger and Charles Bukowski’s Ham on Rye are among the volumes sharing real estate on what Faggin calls ‘details of a nightstand’ with scattered chocolates, capsules, and other bits of evidence of how the nightstand owner numbs or deflects his or her pain.”

Writing for the Houston Press, Abby Koenig described the objects on Faggin’s panels as those “one might find after a night of soul searching and debauchery,” and rightly associated the panels’ books with our yearning for meaning in life. The “hopelessness” that leads us to read Sartre, Burroughs and Bukowski, she suggested, explains our use of pills, booze, cigarettes and Kit Kat bars. The critic further noted how realistic the objects seem, “the details are so perfect; the rice crisps of the Krackel bar pop out of the plaster chocolate,” she wrote, which is precisely the reaction I had the first time I encountered one of Faggin’s panels of addictive pills at PG Contemporary in 2012.

Cumulatively the two critics provide a fine description of Faggin’s art. After talking to the artist I would like to add a tiny bit more.


Marzia Faggin, Detail of a Night Stand: Ham on Rye, 2013, Hand painted plaster (Hydrocal),12 x 12

Virginia Billeaud Anderson: Let’s get the topic of addiction out of the way, for anyone who thinks your art is about addiction, or wonders if you have had personal experience with addiction, either yours, family or friends.

Marzia Faggin: The art is not about addiction, it’s about existential angst, our need to understand human existence. I was thinking about what a lonely space a nightstand can be, the half-eaten chocolates, and other objects speak of "dissatisfaction." I have been smoking cigarettes since I was 13 and have quit at least 25 times, the longest stretch without being over a year when I was pregnant and nursing. Addiction to anything can be miserable and I empathize. Effects on the mind and body vary, but addiction can bring suffering and self loathing. I have friends without any addictions, friends who are addicts, and some are former addicts. The most common addiction among my friends is food.

VBA: Briefly describe the process of making casts - do you construct a mold from the real object, how is it done?

MF: When I began working I often incorporated pre-fabricated molds along with the original molds. For "Dissatisfaction" I constructed molds for everything except the art’s base, which I cast from a 12" x 12" pre-fabricated tile mold. I use a two-part silicone to make a mold of the objects, cast from real objects, and pour plaster into the molds. It's not a complicated process and is similar to baking. At first you follow the recipe, then you learn to eyeball the ingredients.

Collaboration with my brother Eric Faggin brought me to this. In early 2010 we worked together on a piece called Natura Morta for the group show Material and deStructure, curated by Zoya Tommy at PG Contemporary Gallery, which is now called Zoya Tommy Contemporary Gallery. We made a cast concrete frame above a bed of grass with flowers. When water was sprayed on the frame, the inscription Natura Morta, (“Still Life” in Italian) appeared. While Eric worked on the concrete frame, I experimented with materials to make the flowers, searched the Internet for materials and molds, eventually trying latex, alginate, putty, silicone, baking molds, as well as various types of plaster. About the time I decided to use Permastone, the artist Richard Soler suggested I use Hydrocal because it's lighter and whiter.

Two of my paintings in Zoya's show caught the attention of the critic Robert Boyd, who contacted me a few months later and asked me to be part of an exhibition he was curating for the Freneticore Theater Fringe Festival. The 15 plaster wall hangings I made represented my beginning in this art form.

Marzia Faggin, Detail of a Nightstand: The Stranger, 2013, Hand painted plaster (Hydrocal),12" x 12"

VBA: Do you sketch or design the composition before you create each panel?

MF: No, I don't sketch or design the compositions. I’m usually unsure about arrangement until I’ve completed the individual elements. It's like having a bunch of puzzle pieces that can be re-arranged, until I'm satisfied that the results communicate what I have in mind. For Dissatisfaction, I knew which books I would include, and also which objects - candy, cigarettes - would be “details of a nightstand,” but not the arrangement of the panels.

VBA: Are the “real” candy, pills, books or cigarettes in front of you to guide you?

MF: Yes, I have the "real" object in front of me as a guide, but I tend to make colors brighter, since I love color.

VBA: It must require precise brush handling to make plastic appear like real chocolate or Xanax. Is coloring a lengthy or tedious process? Make a comment about the brushes you use.

MF: The brushes range from size 000 to 6. Painting is labor intensive, and can take 8 hours to paint 3 chocolates, I spent 6 months painting half-eaten chocolates, so boring. I was not sure why I was doing it. A half-eaten chocolate represents something painful. Even the act of painting these chocolates depressed me.

VBA: Why do you think you are drawn to such precise manipulation of materials?

MF: I love to work with my hands, I love to paint, and I'm a "bit" obsessive. Working in 3-D suits my skills, I can more effectively express myself.

VBA: In the past when you painted, I can’t help but wonder if you had an obsessively representational style. Did your paintings and print art forewarn of the work you are doing now?

MF: I don’t know if my style was representational, but my technique was one that lacked visible brush strokes. Precision and color are very important. When I printed with Dan Allison I applied paint to some of the prints. Drawing is not my forte. But combining computer images with traditional techniques suited me because with the computer, images become objects that can be endlessly moved around, similar to the 3-D objects I create, and move around until I'm satisfied the composition expresses what I’m feeling.

Marzia Faggin, Detail of a Night Stand: Go Now, 2013, Hand painted plaster (Hydrocal), 12" x 12"

VBA: You were formally trained to manipulate images. According to your biographical material you studied graphic design at the Instituto Europeo Di Design in Milan, and paper conservation at Atelier Deltos di Simonetta Rosatelli. Surely experience in graphic design adds to this artistic expression, but do you think the chemistry you learned when studying paper conservation flavors the work with molds and cast plastic?

MF: Studying graphic design shaped me tremendously. It taught me to be precise and clean, even if I did not start out that way. The first months of school took some adjusting. I presented my exercises with fingerprints, smudges and creases on the paper and my classmates and professors were horrified. I didn't even know how to use a ruler. The X-Acto knife was suicidal, which is funny, because now the ruler and X-Acto knife are as indispensable as my hands. School taught me precision and patience. Paper conservation is precise and repetitive, patience is key in that work.

VBA: Let’s talk about the books. In our previous discussion you acknowledged their existential significance, and said you choose books that “relay the darker element of suffering.” Rimbaud, Sartre and Burroughs are bleak, but Camus! I remember dissecting The Stranger in a graduate school seminar, and thinking how perfectly its opening lines convey the absurdity of our existing as mortals within an indifferent universe. In Camus’s story, which you reproduced as a nightstand element, existence is alienated from meaning. Comment on your connection to the literature. Did you “seriously” study this literature, in an academic environment?

MF: I did not "seriously" study literature. I like to read, but don’t consider myself well-read. I gravitate toward books that question life, and entertain the psychological motivations behind behavior, reasons for hypocrisy, criminality, injustice, loneliness, violence and suffering, as well as the search for truth. I like books that make me think.

I want to say this, even if it sounds corny or lame. Ever since I was a child I've been hoarding candy, the brighter the colors, the better, for me candy is one of the most beautiful things in the world. As an adult I don’t have to hide my candy, and I have it everywhere, which is strange because I don't have much of a sweet tooth. This might seem to contradict my previous description of half-eaten chocolate bars as sad, but in my imagination chocolate absorbs sorrow, and candy seems to deflect it.

And this might be too corny, but in 2004 while living in Florence I decided to discontinue working as a graphic designer about the time of my first solo show in a bookstore called Libreria Martelli, organized by Paolo Giomi, the husband of Simonetta Rosatelli who operated Atelier Deltos where I apprenticed in paper conservation. My husband Manuel Terranova supported my decision to pursue a different career. We moved to Houston in 2006 when I was 7 months pregnant and the house we bought was near Texas Collaborative, Redbud and G Gallery, which turned out to be the best thing that could have happened. About a year after having my daughter Isabella, I started to harass Dan Mitchell Allison, Gus Kopriva, Max Boyd-Harrison, and Heidi Powell Prera, bothering them in their galleries, humiliating myself. Moral of the story: If I hadn't moved to Houston, I might not have realized my goal of becoming an exhibiting artist. Houston has been incredibly supportive, people here gave me a chance, for which I will always be grateful, and particularly to Dan Mitchell Allison and Zoya Tommy for fostering my "career."

What Does It Take to Be Patron of the Year?

Robert Boyd

The obvious and cynical answer to the question above is "big checks." Particularly big checks to the artistic institution that is awarding the title "Patron of the Year." In this case, the institution is the Art League of Houston, and I have no idea if big checks were involved or what criteria at all were used to choose the 2012 Texas Patrons of the Year, Scott and Judy Nyquist. But from the point of view of local artists, they do one thing that well-qualifies them for the honor--they buy local art. And this honor affords them the opportunity to engage in what is the secret desire of all collectors--to show off their collection. I was kind of proud to notice that I had works in my modest collection by many of the same artists shown in this exhibit. So maybe I could be "Patron of the Year" someday--as soon as I start writing some big checks.

Here are a few notable pieces from the exhibit.



Adam McEwen, Jerrycan (water), 2007, powder-coated pressed steel, 18 1/2" x 13" x 6 1/2", edition 10 of 75

Jerrycan (water) by Adam McEwen apparently came with five gallons of water from Marfa, but I don't know what happened to the water...



Chuck Ramirez, Elderflowwer, 2006, pigmented inkjet prints, 60" x 48", edition 3 of 10

The late Chuck Ramirez created this photograph of Judy Nyquist's purse. One of his trademarks was to photograph objects isolated in a white, indistinct space, and this piece is a good example of that approach.



Gary Sweeney, You're Our Favorite Artist, 2008-09, woodblock print, 23" x 29"

Ain't it the truth? Gary Sweeney's piece should make folks who buy work for fundraisers fell just a little bit guilty. I confess I look for bargains at such events. But they are somewhat exploitative, no? Aside from a possible tax deduction, some "exposure", and good feelings, what does an artist get from donating art for silent auctions, etc.?



Joseph Havel, Leap Year, 1996-97, bronze with patina, 100" x 4 1/2" x 6"

Collecting sculpture is often quite difficult because it makes a lot more space demands than a painting or photograph. But Leap Year by Joseph Havel is the perfect sculpture for an individual collector--it has a tiny footprint. Anywhere you have 4 1/2" by 6" of floorspace, you can display this piece.



Joseph Havel, Leap Year (detail), 1996-97, bronze with patina, 100" x 4 1/2" x 6"

 
Joseph Cohen, Proposition #111, 2009, reclaimed latex and latex on Brazilian cherry and African mahogany, 13 1/2" x 10" x 1 1/2" (top) and Allison Hunter, untitled #1 (from the Blue Butterfly Series), 2011, digital c-print, 30" x 30"

This was an interesting pairing--Joseph Cohen's bold, plastic painting above Allison Hunter's delicate nature photo. The two works are both beautiful to my eye, so they have that in common.



Marzia Faggin, Fruit Loops, 2011, cast painted plaster, 6" x 6"

There were two vitrines full of smaller work, such as Marzia Faggin's pill and cereal combo, Fruit Loops. And this is a way for young collectors to get access to work--buy small pieces. Sure you'll end up with shelves of artistic knick-knacks, but what else are you going to put on those shelves? Humel figurines?



Rachel Hecker, Green Car Check, 2008, acrylic on canvas, 24" x 36"

Rachel Hecker paints (among other things) the little scraps of paper that have scrawled writing on them that inhabit our lives--like post-its. Her meticulous, impersonal painting style invests these ephemera with weird (and it has to be said, undeserved) dignity.



Aaron Parazette, Study for Jake, 2009, colored pencil on paper, 20" x 15"

These sketches by Aaron Parazette are of the word "Jake", the name of the Nyquist's son. What's neat about them is that we see the designer in Parazette at work--trying out different variations of the same basic idea.



Robin Utterback, Untitled (no 1064), 2002, acrylic on canvas, 78" x 69"

Robin Utterback was one of the Fresh Paint alumni and was tragically murdered in 2007. I apologize about the spotty lighting on this painting, and I want to note that the front gallery at the Art League was really badly designed. It has tall large windows that let in direct afternoon sunlight. In addition to potentially damaging some artwork on display, it is really distracting.



Woody Golden, Study River Stones, 2007, collection of seven, paper and glue, 3" x 2 1/2" each

Woody Golden takes colored paper, laminates it together into a kind of board, then sands it down to resemble river stones worn smooth and round by erosion. These are another example of artwork that doesn't cost a collector to much yet leaves the collector with something charming and lovely.

That's actually the real virtue of this show. It has items that are small and intimate, items that were gifts from artists, and multiples--in other words, it is almost a primer for a beginning collector. It can be intimidating if you want to buy art but have a limited income (like most of us). You walk into a gallery and look at the prices and it's scary. You don't see how you can even start. The Nyquist collection contains some works that I'm sure they paid a pretty penny for, but it also contains work that probably didn't cost all that much--but which probably brought them as much pleasure as many of the more expensive pieces.

The Second Stimulus Show

Last year, the Apama Mackey Gallery put up a one-night only show called The AMG Visual Stimulus Package. The show's gimmick was that all the artwork was on sale for either $50 or $100. It was in their really cool gallery made of old shipping containers up on 11th in the Heights. I've wondered what happened to them. The last show they had that I know about was last December, and the gallery always seems locked. I have been assuming they went out of business--or at least on hiatus.

The new Stimulus Package was tonight, and it didn't really settle the questions because it was held at Ggallery. It was still put together by the same people, but now in a bigger gallery. It looked like there was more art, too.



Here's some of the art I liked there.


Sarah Jawda, untitled, photograph

I liked the juxtaposition of barcode and "fuck me heels." I guess it could be read as saying sex is a commodity. Jawda is a designer and half of the design crew Jawda and Jawda.


Marzia Faggin, not sure what the title is, painting

I saw a couple of Marzia Faggin paintings at Poissant Gallery last month, and liked them a lot. I liked her work in this show as well. The work she showed here--this painting and a couple of other pieces--is drastically different from the work I saw before. I wonder where she is coming from with her work? It's hard to reconcile the work I've seen. I like it all, though.


Chris Olivier, untitled, lightbulbs, nuts, bolts, wire, 2010

I liked these a lot and I almost got one. Picking them up is a trip--they weigh quite a bit. I was worried about how to display it. It seemed very fragile, very breakable. A functionless object made out of very functional pieces. Chris Olivier was apparently part of I Love You Baby and now also makes art under the moniker Bexar.


Allison Hunter, untitled 23, photograph

I was really harsh about Allison Hunter's Diverse Works installation Zoosphere. On the opposite scale, her four tiny pastel photos of lambs and birds that were on display here were really good. They seemed so plastic and wrong, yet with a subtle hint of sincerity that undercut the airless irony. I liked them quite a lot.


unknown artist, unknown title, phtoograph

I don't remember who this artist was. It looks like he or she took a piece of 35 mm film and blew it up, sprocket holes and all. The image could almost be newsreel footage of Evita Peron. The photo I took of it has a bunch of blue reflection in it. At first I was bummed, but the more I look at it, the more I like the reflections! It was just what the piece was missing! Kidding--I liked it for what it was. The hugely blown up motion picture film worked for me.

I liked some other art as well--enough that I bought it. But that's another post.

Two More Days to Vote!

by Robert Boyd

Come January 1st, I will stop bothering you, my patient readers, with requests to vote in my year-end poll. Until then, you can access the poll here.


Marzia Faggin, Plates: Gumballs, Licorice Allsorts & Peppermint Candies, plaster, glue, acrylic, gloss, 2011

You can vote from a list of art exhibits, performances, and events--but, if you don't see a show you liked, you can write it (or them if more than one) in, and your write-in votes will be counted. We've had some good write-ins. In the "exhibits" category, voters have written in:

Marzia Faggin, Fragile at Nau-haus Art Space
Barrera & Gomez, timesteps at Lawndale
A Matter of Wit at Fotofest
Anthony Shumate, COCKY at Barbara Davis
Seeing Stars: Visionary Drawing from the Collection at the Menil

All excellent shows! (COCKY is disqualified because it was up in November and December 2010, though.)

In the performance category, folks have written in:

Many Mini at Skydive
Jordan Johnson at GGallery

Many Mini included a lot of performance, but it was a sui generis type of thing--it is impossible to pigeonhole into one category. But it certainly is deserving of a write-in vote!

But maybe there's more that deserves a write-in. Probably so. So if you haven't voted in, go in and vote for all the shows you liked, and write in all the ones I forgot to include in my lists!

New Review on 29-95 of Material & deStructure at Poissant Gallery

Robert Boyd

I have a new review up at 29-95. Please check it out. It's a review of the group show at Poissant Gallery (which you can see until May 8).

As usual, I have some extra photos from the show. Like this one:



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

Jeff Forster is a ceramicist whose work deals with the natural reality of clay—some of his work involves taking natural clay and firing it and returning it to the environment, “essentially speeding up geologic time.” But for Frailty, made of a wooden box, porcelain and native Houston clay, it’s not geologic time that’s represented but urban time. The best word to describe it would be debris. It looks like the remnant of a long abandoned building, perhaps damaged by a natural disaster, slowly sinking back into a state of nature.



Paul Kittelson, Tombs, contact paper, glass, wood, 2010

This is one you really need to see in person to experience. The effect of the refraction of the light through the glass is really neat. The name "tombs" is perfect for these little pyramids. I imagine a science fiction novel, set in some far distant future where civilization, after reaching almost incomprehensible technological heights, has collapsed. You are with a group of wanderers and you come across these crystal pyramids--mysterious, uneroding, ancient but ageless. (And then Yes starts playing "Starship Troopers" and you wake up to find the joint you were holding has burned a hole through your new velour shirt.)



Marzia Faggin, Abstraction Re-Abstracted, acrylic on canvas, 2010

I wrote about this one in the review, but they didn't run a photo. So if you read the review, here is one of the two Faggin paintings I wrote about.

Psst... Fringe is Coming!

The Houston Fringe Festival is opening August 19! In addition to a mind-boggling selection of theater, dance, film, performance, and unclassifiable post-modern vaudeville acts, it features a visual art show curated by yours truly, the writer of this blog. The Fringe art exhibit features work by Francis Giampietro, Marzia Faggin, JIS, Pankaj Wadhwa and Woody Golden.

As the week progresses, I'll say more (and maybe even show a few pictures). Come check it out!