The response to this new work has been fantastic.  People are going crazy for the color.  I’m pleased by the reaction.  Well, mostly pleased.  Let’s take a step back.

I think my first mature work was my hand-drilled wooden pieces.  I have a phrase that I like to use and it applies to this work.  It (the work) is doing something.  There’s work that does something and work that does nothing.  I’m not sure how to define this phrase, but its meaning is crystal clear in my mind.  The hand-drilled wooden pieces do something.  The white paint on wood pieces do something.  The clear coat on wood pieces do something too.  As for the new colorfully painted works, I’m not sure they’re doing something.

When people react to the new paintings, they often say that they love the color.  Well, color is easy to love, isn’t it?  Who doesn’t love the perfect shade of red, a vibrant blue or a subtle green.  If you’re favorite color is yellow and I used yellow in a specific piece, chances are you might like the piece.  But why?  Because it’s a great work of art?  Or because it’s yellow?

When someone says they like the new work because of the color, I’m not exactly sure how to take the apparent compliment.  Sure, I made the choice to use the particular shade of yellow in a particular way, but is that doing something?  Is it doing enough?  Is it the easy way out?

The same can be said of abstraction in general.  What does pure abstraction (reductive or minimal work) do?  How does it contribute to society?  What value does it add?

Now that I am working primarily as an abstract painter, I struggle mightily with the questions above.  Am I simply making decorative objects, or am I making art?  I don’t struggle with these questions with regard to holes/white paint/clearcoat, and why is that?  There’s something about the new paintings that feel almost too close to design.  And that bothers me.

But here’s where things get weird.  When I look at the work of other abstract painters – Malevich, Rothko, Marden, Kelly, etc – I don’t question the validity of their work for even a second.  I love encountering their work.  I love being absorbed by their beauty.  Ultimately, I love that it was OK to them to make that work.  They devoted their lives to it.  While I am certain they struggled with similar questions as me, they persisted.  They probably felt they were doing something and I agree.

So why do I question whether or not I am doing something?

I guess I wonder what pure abstraction has left to say.  Are we left making the tiniest possible discoveries?  Are there any great discoveries left to be made?  What is it that I want to discover?

My current position with regard to the numerous questions above is that I am simply trying to discover my own unique artistic voice, whatever that may be.  My artistic life has been occupied with various related projects.  Some, I felt I was doing something, some, not so much.  In total, however, I feel I have done something.  And that’s enough to keep going, even though that question still nags me: are color and abstraction the easy way out?

Fracture_005
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Maple plywood
16″ x 48″ x 1″
2010
Private Collection

Fracture_005 (side view)
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Maple plywood
16″ x 48″ x 1″
2010
Private Collection

Fracture_005 is the largest work in the series thus far.  Due to my inadequacies in studio photography, the white paint looks uneven.  I assure you that it’s consistently white across the entire piece.

I’ve also continued my explorations within the Polyclear Series:

Polyclear_025
Polyacrylic on purpleheart wood
18″ x 10″ x 1″
2010

Polyclear_025
Polyacrylic on purpleheart wood
18″ x 10″ x 1″
2010

The second image uses the reflection of the studio lights to reveal the nuances of the clear coat finish.  In the standard image at top, it’s very difficult to see the alternating use of glossy and matte finish.  The second image makes it more clear, pun intended.

Polyclear_025 is different from previous Polyclear pieces in that it makes use of a solid piece of wood instead of plywood.  I’ll be curious to see where this leads.

Lastly, I’ve just recently completed a suite of six paintings also part of the Fracture Series:

On Line (composite view of installation)
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Spanish Cedar plywood
16″ x 16″ x 1″ (each)
2010

On Line I
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Spanish Cedar plywood
16″ x 16″ x 1″
2010

On Line II
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Spanish Cedar plywood
16″ x 16″ x 1″
2010

On Line III
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Spanish Cedar plywood
16″ x 16″ x 1″
2010

On Line IV
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Spanish Cedar plywood
16″ x 16″ x 1″
2010

On Line V
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Spanish Cedar plywood
16″ x 16″ x 1″
2010

On Line VI
Acrylic, polyacrylic on Spanish Cedar plywood
16″ x 16″ x 1″
2010

The title for this suite, On Line, comes from the exhibition by the same name now at the Museum of Modern Art.  These paintings are a pretty big step forward for this series and I’m still getting my head around them.  These evolved a great deal during their creation and I willingly followed where they lead me.  I’m quite happy with them.

I plan on posting soon some thoughts on color and how it relates to my work.  As you’ve likely noticed, my use of color is taking on more of a life lately and I want to discuss some of the pros and cons of that decision.

As always, thanks for checking out my work.  I welcome your feedback.

To check out my interview, click here.  For the other artists in the show, click here for Antoinette Wysocki, and here for Gary Abernathy.

Works by Anneliese Vobis, J.T. Kirkland, and Mary Lingen. These artists have embraced the perfection and beauty found within organic forms. Come witness how each representation has recreated nature in the most unique way.

This exhibition will include up to 16 pieces from my Polyclear Series.  I’ve never before mounted so many of these works together so I will be very interested to see how it turns out.  As is typical, I think my work will stand in contrast to the work of the other two artists (in a minimal/reductive way), and I enjoy seeing that juxtaposition play out.

Unfortunately, I am unable to attend the exhibition in person but I look forward to seeing images of the final installation and sharing them here.

The show has a brief run of Dec. 2 – Dec. 17.  If you happen to be in St. Paul, MN, during that time, I hope you’ll check it out.

As you’ll see in the pictures below, my work provided quite the contrast to the other paintings in the show.  The gallery made the right call in hanging my work effectively opposite of Antoinette’s and Gary’s paintings.  I think it provided an interesting contrast of scale, form, color and use of line.  Perhaps most striking was the contrast of the density in their paintings juxtaposed with the sparseness of my own.

The opening was very well attended with people being in the space when I arrived at approximately 6:10pm.  The gallery stayed packed for the entire two hours.  In all honesty, there were more people at this opening reception than at the rest of my openings this year combined.  It was quite energizing to be around such interest in art.

I was pleased to get the chance to meet several great artists who I’ve only known through the web: Don Voisine, Debra Ramsay, and Karen Schifano.  It was also great to see old friends: Trish Tillman, Matthew Langley and Chris Rywalt.

OK, so enough with the name dropping.  Let’s get to some images:

The work of Wysocki on left, Abernathy on right

Two Wysockis on left, Abernathy on right

Wysocki

Wysocki

One Wysocki on left, three Abernathy’s on right

Abernathy

My work: two pieces from Fracture on left, ten pieces from Subspaces on right

Subspaces

Subspaces

Subspaces

As you may have noticed, the images above only show 12 of my pieces.  The thirteenth piece is hanging over the reception area and was not easy to photograph well.  However, should you be able to see the show, please check out that work.  It’s my favorite in the show.

I am extremely grateful for the opportunity provided by Blank Space to show my work alongside two strong artists and I’m excited for so many of my NYC friends to be able to see my work in person.  If you are able to see the show during its run (closes Dec. 10th), please let me know what you thought.

Thanks!

In addition to art burnout, Stacey and I decided to embark on a performance collaboration.  The collaboration will be site-specific, constantly changing and evolving.  It will last for a minimum of 18 years, though based on feedback from artists who have made similar collaborations, we expect to be involved in the maintenance of the piece forever.  We’ve had the opportunity to document some of the earliest stages of project development:

The project is presently called TGK and should be fully realized in late March 2011.

All kidding aside, we are beyond thrilled that we will be welcoming a baby boy into our lives in approximately 4 months.  Preparations for the arrival are well under way and thus far it has absorbed a great deal of time, thought, creativity, etc.  It’s an exciting time.  The greatest collaboration I’ve ever participated in.

Other than the large installation in Charlottesville a few months ago, the studio has been quiet.  This past Friday I was able to get back to work and I would like to share the results.

This first piece was actually initiated in the spring:

Polyclear_024
Ash and Rosewood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
17.75″ x 17.25″ x 1″
2010

Polyclear_024
Ash and Rosewood, Polyacrylic on Birch Plywood
17.75″ x 17.25″ x 1″
2010

This piece continues the work with which I’ve been engaged for the last year.  The challenge, however, was working in a larger scale than before.  Previously, the Polyclear Series has been no larger than 12″ x 12″.  I quickly discovered that producing larger work was significantly more difficult to complete.  My process was challenged a great deal by this piece, but I feel that the end product turned out well and gives hope to continuing to work at such a size.

The images of this piece came out surprisingly well, but in case it is difficult to see, I will provide a quick description.  Two pieces of 2″ Rosewood are vertically oriented in the center of the piece, separated by a 2″ piece of Ash.  The entire surface is covered with a clear, matte polyacrylic finish.  Running horizontally are two 2″ bands of clear, glossy polyacrylic finish.  They are centered and separated by a 2″ band of matte finish.  The glossy bands are merely representations of the vertical Rosewood bands, turned on their sides.

I discussed recently the impacts of a weekend at The Greenbrier and my new-found desire to work with more challenging color palettes.  What follows is my first piece created working under The Greenbrier’s influence:

Fracture_005
Acrylic, Polyacrylic on Maple Plywood
15.5″ x 11.75″ x 1″
2010

Fracture_005
Acrylic, Polyacrylic on Maple Plywood
15.5″ x 11.75″ x 1″
2010

This work continues in the line of the Fracture Series initiated in my residency at the Vermont Studio Center.  A new development in this piece, however, is the inclusion of a third color which obviously allows me to work with more colors within the same piece (note: the pinstripe is actually a deep red, but reads as black in the images).

I did not reference any images from Greenbrier to pull colors for this piece.  Instead, these are the colors called to mind when remembering my time there.  These are colors that I would typically never use together, but I think I’ve done it in such a way as to be successful.

My newest paintings are displayed on my website under the heading “Exploratory Paintings,” and that is exactly what they are.  I’m still unsure about what they are saying, what they are doing and how they work, not to mention, if they are ultimately successful.  However, I find myself actively engaged with their conception and production.  Their uncertainty encourages me to keep making them.  I’m in a good place with them.  We’ll see where they lead.

When we arrived at Greenbrier, my first impression of the decor was far from positive.  I found the colors and over-sized prints to be garish.  Nothing seemed to work together.  Well, they didn’t work together in the way I expected or wanted.  After a bit of time, the colors and prints began to coalesce into something quite striking and beautiful.  I began snapping pictures of areas that caught my eye.

By my second day at the resort I began to understand why they called Dorothy Draper a “tastemaker.”  She was literally redefining my tastes with each room.  I never expected the colors she forced together to actually work, much less actually move me.  I never expected over-sized floral patterns to work alongside black and white checkerboard floors.  But they did.

I quickly realized that my sense of color in my own artwork is very traditional and expected.  This color obviously goes with that color.  Oh, no, that color can’t possibly go with that one.

In fact, I now think that a person with sophisticated tastes and a well-honed eye can practically will or force any two colors together.  The Greenbrier vibrates with astounding confidence.  It feels like there was no other option than for those spaces to be decorated in that specific way.  Any change would simply fail.

The experience of visiting The Greenbrier has caused me to re-think my use of color in the studio.  Instead of finding the obvious pairings of color, I’m going to instead try to push beyond my present understanding of color.  I want to find two colors that seemingly have no place being side by side and find a way to make them work.  To make them say more together than I ever thought possible.  To open new ways of seeing.

Admittedly, I know very little about interior design in the mid-20th century.  Draper may be an over-rated hack and I wouldn’t know the difference.  But, on that particular weekend, at this particular time in my life, the spaces and experiences set up by Dorothy Draper have inspired me profoundly.  I’m excited to see where this all leads.  Perhaps I will find a new level of beauty in my work, or perhaps I will determine that indeed some colors should never, ever be used together.  Regardless, it should be challenging and it should be fun.

The other two artists in the show are Antoinette Wysocki and Gary Abernathy.  The gallery has requested that I bring 14 works for the show, selections from my Subspaces series and the Fracture series.  I think it’s apparent that my work will be the outlier in the group, but I see some interesting connections between all of our works that should make for an interesting show.  The gallery is not huge and as a result I imagine that the space will be packed with color.

I am extremely excited about this opportunity to show in Chelsea for the first time.  I hope that my NYC friends will be able to make it to the reception.  I’d love to see you all.

The press release:

BLANK SPACE is pleased to present a trio exhibition featuring paintings by Gary Abernathy, J.T. Kirkland, and Antoinette Wysocki. The artists’ paintings’ styles differ amongst each other, and yet each has a dedication to presenting deceivingly simple subjects with layers of complexity that unfold as the viewer takes in each painting.

Wysocki’s Mille-Fleur series on linen deftly expresses the process of gesture and washes to maintain the expressionistic quality. Using heavy saturated color with bold brush strokes and various drawing media, her gestures create pods, blooms, and drawings of a botanical nature. The many layers bind and refract, creating texture and translucency through this process. Wysocki balances each medium with its corresponding absorption rate of the surface, allowing the materials to interact with each other and the linen. This process creates a recognizable image, easing the eye through the layers of paint.

Abernathy’s suite of paintings evokes a microcosm view of land and waterscapes. The use of color rhythms and elliptical shapes across the canvas produce forms that reduce nature to its primary elements. Abernathy’s interests lie not in the overall view or vista of an earthly environment, but instead, on the areas around and between objects; a deconstructivist approach towards nature. Such an approach is an execution in minimalism, disconnected from cultural references, creating a fragmentation of nature unaffected by time.

Kirkland’s reductivist style and execution is part of his desire to strive for clarity and resolution in line, color, and form. The intention is to challenge viewers’ perceptions of surface and space through simple, precise gestures on wood; a celebration of wood as art. His series is best appreciated over several viewings with focused attention. Each time, the viewer catches something that wasn’t obvious before, and one’s visual and emotional reaction changes. What was initially simple (or complex) is now changed and expanded, whether it is from the wood itself, the precise gesture of paint upon it, or the interaction of the two.

Having received her BFA from San Francisco Art Institute, Wysocki has shown widely in galleries such in New York, Hong Kong, London, San Francisco, Sacramento, Chicago, Seattle, New Mexico and Washington D.C. In 2007, she was nominated for next emerging artist by GLAAD in New York City and was awarded an artist’s grant for an artist program through the Santa Fe Art Institute.

Since earning his BFA and MFA from Florida State University, Abernathy has participated in a several group exhibitions, and his work has been added to a number of prestigious collections including IBM, Chemical Bank and State of Florida House of Representatives. Additionally, Abernathy’s work has been covered and reviewed by various publications, including The Miami Herald and Tallahassee Democrat.

Kirkland received his BS from Centre College and has since had solo exhibitions in cities including New York, NY, Washington, D.C., and Richmond, VA, in addition to many curated group exhibitions across the country.  In January 2010, Kirkland was an artist in residence at the Vermont Studio Center.  He received the Robert Riddick Memorial Award from the Rawls Museum in 2009, and in 2007, his work, Synapse, was acquired by the University of Kentucky Art Museum for their permanent collection.

This seems like an obvious point, but it was driven home to me just recently in a unique way.  My wife and I were looking at some cars when I pointed out the Nissan Murano.  I’ve always thought it was a very good looking SUV.  I’m certain that Stacey had seen the car many times on the road, but she likely never paid much attention to it.  She pointed out to me part of the car that she thought looked funny.  My first reaction was to doubt her because I’ve looked at the car closely many times and I thought it was gorgeous.  What on Earth could she be talking about?

Well, she was talking about this:

Do you see where the rear side window meets the back window?  The bottom of the back window curves up towards the roof.  To Stacey the back corner of the car looks completely disjointed with there being no flow from the side to the back.  I had never noticed that design element before and now that she pointed it out to me, I can’t not see it.  I went from thinking the Murano was one of the best looking SUVs to thinking it’s one of the ugliest.  How is that even possible?

I think my experience speaks a lot about the process of looking at art.  In an initial viewing, we might be struck by color, subject matter or general composition.  Based on our first impression we might think the artwork is beautiful, good, interesting, or whatever positive reaction.  We might be willing to accept that positive initial reaction because it feels nice and it’s safe.  If we look closer, if we dig a little deeper, we might not like what we find.  The opposite might be true for a negative initial reaction.  How meaningful is that initial superficial experience?

By looking at the Murano with more focused attention, I found what to me is a glaring design flaw with the car.  I had always overlooked it, but not any more.  Though I like the car much less now and I’m glad I see the car for what it truly is.  This experience reminds me to look more closely at the art around me.  The result will hopefully be a deeper appreciation or understanding of the piece.  I might like a piece less.  I might like a piece more.  But if I just settle for my experience as it is today, it has no possibility of growth or depth tomorrow.

I’m going to look more closely at the things around me and I am going to listen to the experiences of others.  Who knows what impressions I hold today will change tomorrow?

The concept of the show was for each artist to create an installation that utilized only one material, the material that we work with primarily. For Suzanna, it was acrylic paint. For Sean, it was clay. For me, it was wood. Leah was first introduced to my work at the last Artomatic exhibition. There she saw my 8′ x 12′ piece executed in plywood (with hand-drilled holes). She was also first introduced to Sean’s work there as well. You never know what opportunities are going to come from participating in Artomatic!

Several months ago, Leah approached me about doing this show. Her idea was for me to work with the main long wall in the gallery. The wall measured 8′ tall (it was elevated off the ground and went up almost to the ceiling joists) and was 40′ long. I was excited for the opportunity to work in such scale and I eagerly anticipated the site visit to see the space firsthand.

At the site visit, I was immediately drawn to the age and character of the space. My eyes were captured by the exposed ceiling joists above me. 2″ thick joists ran across the ceiling and ended at my wall. Between the joists was an intricate system of support pieces, all in wood. Decades of patina showed on the surface of the wood. It was a sight to behold. What must have been some sort of industrial or retail space had a ceiling supported by a beautiful arrangement of wood. I doubt many people who entered the space took the time to look up, so I knew that whatever intervention I did with my wall would have to somehow incorporate the ceiling.

The solution, as it turned out, was to carry the ceiling down the wall. I decided to mount 2″ x 3″ stud lumber boards to the wall positioned so that they aligned perfectly with the ceiling joists just above. The viewer’s eye would immediately connect the wall lumber to the ceiling lumber. It should be noted that an interesting development happened at this point. Whenever the ceiling was constructed 2-by boards were truly 2″ wide. Today, when a stud is advertised as being 2′ wide, it is actually only 1.5″ wide. This slight difference is apparent in the installation and represents an interesting study in how our – shall we say accepted tolerances – have changed, or been forced to change.  Regardless of the difference, the movement of the eye is not hindered as it travels up the studs and into the joists.

With the position of the studs determined, I realized that the viewer would first encounter them but they would not immediately connect to the ceiling.  This assumes that the viewer didn’t assume the wall was simply unfinished construction.  My next challenge became how to manipulate the studs so that two objectives were achieved:

1. Push the installation beyond a simple material installation.  In other words, I knew I wanted to do something to the studs other than just hanging them on the wall.
2. I needed to pull the viewer into the piece so that they could truly engage the wall and eventually have their eyes carried up to the ceiling joists.

In order to accomplish these objectives, I opted to leverage previous work where I drilled holes in wood (including at Artomatic).  This approach still works for me because I love how the material is manipulated, altered, enhanced, while the reality is that material has only been removed.  Nothing has been added.  My solution for this installation was to cut a series of lines perpendicular to the stud orientation.  The lines were positioned precisely on the boards and they were cut at a precise depth.  The lines were positioned so that a subtle forced perspective illusion was created (again, much like I did at Artomatic).  I positioned a center line at approximate eye-level.  I cut this line the deepest.  One inch above and below this line, I cut a line of slightly less depth.  Two inches below and above those lines, I cut a line of even less depth.  This process continued in an exponential pattern: 1″, 2″, 4″, 8″, 16″, 32″.  As the lines got farther away from the “horizon” they became more shallow.  The final cuts at the top and bottom were positioned 1″ from the ends of the board.

The lines served many different purposes:

1. They carried the eye across the piece (all 40′)
2. The forced perspective illusion pulled the viewer into the piece… into the horizon
3. The depth of the cuts (greatest in the horizon line), was a real way to create depth into the work, most notable at side views

Ultimately, with the lines cut and the boards mounted to the wall, the piece was complete.  I could pull viewers into the work and up into the ceiling joists.  My 8′ x 40′ installation took possession of the ceiling too.

During the process of creating the work, other nuances became apparent.  I enjoyed how the studs brought into view the guts of the wall.  I liked how the markings on the lumber (bright pink and green paint, printed words, etc), created something more visually appealing in the work.  I had planned on sanding the boards clean, but opted instead to embrace the markings from the factory/lumber yard.  I liked how the stud lumber (a support material) didn’t actually support anything… it floated above the floor and didn’t quite reach the ceiling joists.  They didn’t DO anything other than serve a purely visual and conceptual purpose.

Finally, we have the title of the piece, “Carry the Load.” At this point I think many of the conceptual underpinnings of the piece/title are evident.  I just want to point out that I don’t specify who or what is doing the carrying and I don’t specify what the load is.  I liked this title because it doesn’t narrow the interpretation of the piece.  If anything, it opens it up to the viewer even more.

Here are some images of the installation: