Still Remembering 9/11

Lower Manhattan as it looked in a photo collage from my graduate school days at Pratt Institute - although the balcony of my high rise dorm had a pretty good view, this was probably taken from the Empire State Building.

Another photo collage taken years later in a snowy McCarren Park when I first moved to Greenpoint, Brooklyn in 2000- just a year before the attack on the World Trade Center. The faint ghostly outline of the Twin Towers can be seen just to the left of the Russian church. I just moved from Tribeca where the enormous buildings loomed high above my sublet in a dizzying vertical trajectory into the sky. Every time I neared the apartment, they were there; two stalwart figures. As I sat on the incredible roof deck at the top of my building, I remember always feeling a sense of unease at their scale as my thoughts trailed off, "if those things ever fell".... In my wildest dreams, I never, ever felt those musings would actually come true.

Moving On....Goodbye to Greenpoint

After ten plus years, I'm leaving Greenpoint. "They'll have to carry me out of here kicking and screaming," I thought when first confronted with the idea. It would mean giving up my rent-stabilized lease. It would also mean giving up part of an identity that I had culled for years; that certain stigma that comes with living in an up-and-coming neighborhood teeming with artists and creative types. When I moved to this section of Brooklyn back in 2000, no one (and I mean no one) wanted to live here. It was industrial, run-down, and fairly unattractive, even for New York. About six months later, the world discovered Williamsburg which is practically right next door. Since then, the spillover of Williamsburg Cool has made Greenpoint one of the hippest neighborhoods in Brooklyn but maybe a little too hip for me of late. I will miss the palpable creativity, the new wave of culinary artisans, the grit, the arms and legs (among other parts) covered in tattoos, and the old Polish couples who remind me of my own grandparents. 

I'll be trading in pierogies and the rust belt of Brooklyn's waterfront niche for a complete change of pace, peeky-toe crab sandwiches, and the sailboats of a small seaside community in the Bronx. After a short weekend jaunt  to City Island last year, I would have never guessed that I would be moving there exactly one year later. After counting down the days, I am looking forward to starting my new life by the bay....private beach and all. And, just in case I forget where I am for a second, the outline of the Empire State Building serves as a gentle reminder looming on the watery horizon.

Origami Cranes Around Brooklyn

As I was leaving for work last week, I saw this beautiful strand of origami cranes floating in a tree. I pass McGolrick Park in Greenpoint daily, but this bright morning was different. The sun was streaming through the colorful strands, and a gentle breeze gave them movement. Luckily, I had my camera in my coat pocket (as I sometimes do) and took advantage of this special moment. I thought for sure that by day's end, the Parks Department or the elements would have ruined this impromptu work of art but they remain. I glanced downward and saw a cluster of votive candles was left directly under it. I assumed it was some local group's response to the tragedy in Japan. After doing a little sleuthing on the internet, I was somewhat right and found that there's more to the story....

The project was created by local musician and songstress, Niabi. It started as a way to keep idle hands busy and combat the endless winter. An ancient Japanese legend states that the person who folds a thousand paper cranes will be granted a wish by the mystical creature. Following the legend, the simple act of folding paper has evolved into something more for the artist in light of Japan's crisis:

"I want to give my wish away to someone who needs it more than I do.

 In short, it is my prayer for peace."

In the same week, I was walking through another section of Greenpoint and found this tiny red crane above.  I also found a stash of origami paper in my own art studio. The crane's symblic imagery even appears as a motif on the paper. I don't know how to make anything from it, but I admire its patterns and colors - and all of the little paper animals that seem to be cropping up around my section of Brooklyn lately too.

Artist Interview - Sara Klar

I met painter, Sara Klar, several years ago when we were both exhibiting at the same Brooklyn gallery. As a lover of color, I was blown away when I first saw her work. They were like no other canvases I had ever seen- three-dimensional, visceral, raw. It was expression coming from the depths of some unknown place through explosive color. Somehow I understood her work with emotions of my own. Sara is a painter's painter and to enjoy her work is to see it at a normal viewing distance, and then up close. Very close.

Over the years, Sara has thoughtfully kept me on her mailing list, and I've been treated to seeing her work several times at various venues. I recently paid a visit to her gorgeous Greenpoint studio to ask her some questions, and get acquainted with some of her latest pieces in person.

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How long have you been painting? When did you know that you wanted to pursue art?

The question that is more relevant is how long have I been making art. I moved into Manhattan in the early 1980s and made my first art pieces then. They were conceptual, but of that I had no idea. I created them in response to the stimuli of living in Manhattan where I began to notice that without my cognizance I was under the influence of the advertising industry. I hated this lack of control and decided to see how much external buzz I could filter out by removing items such as television and magazines from my home- vehicles where information putting forth its own message for its own gain, was sneaking into my domain. One of the last places left for me to filter was my bathroom medicine cabinet. In the morning when I was hardly awake, and in a most vulnerable state, I would open the cabinet and be bombarded by marketing logos. I decided to neutralize this experience. I selected three different color yellows to correspond with the three shelves in the cabinet. I painted each bottle entirely (label and all) with the yellow of the particular shelf it sat on. I called this piece, Yellow Fever. What resulted was some rather funny late night fumblings trying to figure out what pill exactly was in which bottle.

Can you generally describe your artistic progression over the years?

It was a gradual, organic evolution. I was definitely walking down a particular path only I didn’t know it. As I mentioned, I was already making these conceptual pieces. I was living in SoHo at the time. On my way to pick up milk I would stop by galleries like Mary Boone, Castelli, and later, Gagosian on Wooster Street. I went continously to museums- the people I was drawn to were artists. There was no one moment in time when I said, “Yes, I shall pursue art!” but there was a very particular moment when I began to paint. At a very low ebb emotionally, I picked up a bottle of paint (the kind children use in Kindergarden) and squeezed hard, pushing the paint out onto paper. The feeling of release was thrilling. This was the start of my first series of paintings, what I call my Fuck Off Paintings.

We spoke about how the Y2K era was the catalyst for a whole new body of work. Can you explain that more? Does this concept still play into your current pieces now in 2010?

The runup to Y2K engendered a period of critical self analysis as the art frontier shifted to new media- the video and digital world. I felt I should be exploring this arena, making digital art. The only problem was that working on a computer for artmaking purposes held zero appeal. I was a painter delving in a medium of communication that reached back to pre-historic time. I was conflicted with the possibility and idea of now being forced to use computers, the newest form of communication. This led to a chain of self-questioning: “What does it mean to be an artist? What does it mean to be a contemporary artist? Do I consider myself a contemporary artist? Is this important? Why am I an artist? Why is my media paint?" This interior dialogue went on for well over a year during which time I did not paint. It finally led to my concluding that artmaking was my way of coming to understand the world I was inhabiting and my way into the artmaking process was through the tactile, sensual quality of paint. So I determined that I was going to see how far I could explore the materiality of paint and I would make paintings that could never be replicated or duplicated by the computer. The troubling side to this latter decision that only later reared its head was that it would prove very difficult to really capture my paintings on the computer screen.

(left) detail of Warrior, 2010; and
(right) detail of Thrust, 2006 - 2009, acrylic and tape on canvas (84”h x 60”w x 3”d)

The paintings I recently exhibited at Sideshow Gallery in Williamsburg Brooklyn this past March, from my series, “Geography Of The Mind For Locations Of The Soul” demonstrate fully the vocabulary I developed from this inquiry - my layering of paintings on top of paintings on a single canvas, each new painting layer obliterating the painting that came before, building paint up to several inches in thickness on the canvas, cutting into this thickness with single edged razor blades and exposing parts of past paintings, peeling this paint like fruit, forming it like clay, adding paper, affixing tape, tearing these materials off. All of this wrestling resulted in paintings that are extremely multi-dimensional and take eight months to four years to complete.

How did you become interested in integrating narrative into your paintings? Do you want the viewer to know what the narrative is, or would you rather keep that private and have people just accept each painting as an absract piece?

I’ve never considered my pieces to be totally abstract. I’ve alway considered the forms in my paintings to be my own personal lexicon illustrating specific events in my life. At the same time, I love the experience of complexity, multiple meanings, and perspectives that are offered in abstraction. Abstraction allows space and the very strong rebel in me hates to feel locked in. With regard to whether I prefer to keep the narrative private, there is a part of me that thrills when someone sees the narrative which means essentially they are seeing me. At the same time, I greatly fear the exposure.

(left) Warrior, 2010, acrylic, paper, tape, marker, and pastel on canvas (96”h x 73”w x 2½”d); and

(right) detail from Swarm, 2005 - 2009

Your work is fairly big. Are you more comfortable working in a format with a large scale?

These paintings, (8 feet by 6 feet and 7 feet by 5 feet) are not only quite large but heavy! They weigh close to 100 lbs. I love the feel of great power I have when I’m working on them. I understand well why the big boys of abstract art painted huge canvases. But my large scale paintings take a tremendous amount of energy both mental and physical. When my energy is in a quieter place, my very small paintings (11 inches by 11 inches) are perfect. I start off thinking these will be easier because they are small, and in this way I fool myself into thinking that the process of making these painting will be less arduous. Hah!

What three words would you use to describe your work overall?

I wouldn’t. I can give you one though - "impossible!"

Helium Head, 2007 -2009, acrylic, paper, tape on canvas (84”h x 60”w x 4”d) (left)
Swarm, 2005 -2009 acrylic, marker, tape, ink on canvas (84”h x 60”w x 3½”d) (right)

Can you describe your favorite piece of all time that you've created?

No, each painting comes into being out of a need to delve deep into a matter to gain understanding of myself in relation to an external event. A painting is not finished until I’ve come not only to a place of full comprehension but also taken the work to a place that is beyond my comprehension.

Do you listen to music or have any odd practices while you're working in your studio?

Sometimes I listen to music, sometimes not. When I find an album that I like, I listen to it over and over and over, sometimes for months. Inevitably there comes the moment in time when I never want to hear the album again.

Detail from Helium Head, 2007 -2009

Where do you like to go for inspiration or sanctuary?

It takes a long time to really see a painting and an art environment should provide a venue for thoughtful contemplation. My favorite museum which fulfills this criteria has always been the Metropolitan Museum. The new MOMA most annoyingly provides the antithetical museum art viewing experience. Not in terms of their art program, but what they’ve achieved with their new renovation is a building that excels as a hub of activity. While the architecture is stellar, it is difficult to get far from the crowd. Of course, my own studio is quiet. At my leisure, I read critical essays and study monographs of artists.

(left) detail from Lined, Plumbed, 2005 - 2009;  and (right) detail from Swarm, 2005-2009

Do you have a particular time of day that you like to work?

Early in the morning when it’s very quiet when I’ve just woken up, and I haven’t begun reacting with the exterior world. 5:30 a.m. is usually a very good time for me before the annoyances of everyday life have intruded.

Your website mentions that you left Orthodox Judaism. Would you mind expanding on that decision?

I come from an Orthodox Jewish background, which I equate with the Fundamentalist practice of any religion. The shorthand version of events is that I was married off at 19, sought to divorce at 20½ , and faced the reality that if my husband decided not to grant me a divorce, a “get”, I would be what is called in Hebrew, an Aguna, "a halachic term for a Jewish woman who is 'chained' to her marriage."* Many aguna cases arise as a result of a husband withholding a get in order to extort money or extract a more favorable divorce settlement or to get even with his wife.   (* term as described further in Wikipedia)

Detail from Lined, Plumbed, 2005 - 2009

I had encountered subjugation before but in milder forms, and my protest in those situations was circumscribed. Raised in privileged circumstances, I had not wanted to see the degree to which men dominated women in my world, for admitting this reality would have necessitated leaving my a cushioned existence. But with the authority to grant the “get” in my husband’s hands, the scale tipped. Just out of my teens, my entire future life was at stake and I refused to continue to follow a religion that rendered me powerless to control my destiny.

Who or what is your work influenced by? Do you have any particular favorite artists?

The first artist that I studied in depth was Matisse followed by Van Gogh and Rothko. Subsequently, it was Pollock, and then I was on to Early Renaissance art. Now, Guston continues to be one of my all-time favorites. In his later figurative works, his genuis comes together; the beauty of his paint passages, the brilliant massed compositions, his pictorial descriptions of what it means to be human and vulnerable. It takes great courage to see oneself so directly. Rembrandt’s self portraits have this honesty too. I return time and time again to see them. Bruce Nauman I respect, also Kara Walker- her work is so blatant, and Ursula Von Rydingsvard.

What do you think it takes to be an artist today whether in New York or anywhere?
You are born an artist. To be a practicing artist in the New York art world takes stamina. There are fashions and flavors operative here as in other industries and pressures both subtle and overt to conform either by creating a certain type of art or by taking on a certain type of persona. The "art world" is a very closed system that operates without transparency and is governed by unspoken codes and alliances. It takes effort to understand this playing field. It requires much strategic networking to gain access to the powers who can help bring an artist’s career to ascendant.

(left) detail from Thrust, 2006 - 2009; and (right) detail from Endow, 2006 - 2010

Where do you see your work gong in the future (stylistically)? Do you have any specific projects or exhibitions coming up in 2010-2011?

I experience burnout for about a year following every show. I’m just coming out of a period of dormancy and have made two small new paintings. I’m also at the infancy stage of a new direction - working in video to explore the relationship of home and loss.

And finally, as a painter who uses such bold color, this should be a difficult one, do you have a favorite color?

Red is my favorite color. It’s my emotional connection. But in painting, it’s not my go-to color. I’m very careful not to use it too easily.

A portrait of the artist relaxing in her studio along with gorgeously-colored paint detail from Warrior, 2010.

For more information about Sara and to see more of her work, please consult her website.

Smitten in the City - A Venetian Affair in Brooklyn

There's a conversation that's going on in the streets of Brooklyn. I pass this certain wall on my way home and have noticed that it changes every few days. Earlier this summer, it was painted solid black and begging for some enhancement. You may recall this cute little lady piglet from an earlier post, but she now appears to be taking part in a playful public communication and visual love letter between artists. The gesture of this elaborate accumulation reminds me of a book I read many years ago entitled, A Venetian Affair, about a clandestine love affair in 18th century Venice during its Golden Age of nobles and the splendor of the Grand Canal. The forbidden lovers exchanged secret letters back and forth through people who knowingly and unknowingly helped them. They also communicated publicly "through an elaborate code of nods and gestures".  

(from the synopsis on Amazon)

A prancing fleet of foxes surrounds the piglet, signed with a little note "♥ The Fox".

She replies with a Venetian lion, "Who is this fabulous Mr. Fox? ♥ Elle".

He replies, "Dirty paws and unwashed hair, just a little pup in the big city." 

The "letter" in its entirety.

A Walk Around the Neighborhood - Williamsburg

Street decorations brighten the skies in preparation for the street carnival in celebration of the feast day for Our Lady of Mt. Carmel in July.

 

The four-story high giglio (meaning "lily" in Italian) is carried or "danced" through the neighborhood during the week by dozens of men as a towering processional and devotional item. This year marks the 123rd anniversary of this event.

Below, this little guy looks like he's ready to cruise off for a day at the beach. 

I encountered many textural and iconic visuals during this walk. This landmark church above is a landmark that can be seen towering above the trees, and was once featured on a Seinfeld episode long ago. I never thought it would be right in my own backyard!

Nine Brushstrokes - Artist Interview on Plaztik Mag's Blog

One day, back in the dead of winter, Plaztik Mag and I bumped into one another at a busy and well-attended Chelsea art opening for musician, activist, photographer, artist, and Mapplethorpe bff, Patti Smith. She is probably best known for the popular song, Because the Night; I wanted to tell her that my favorites happen to be E-bow the Letter (with R.E.M.) and Dancing Barefoot. Patti's artwork, although broad in style and scope, was impressive and professionally-executed.

In attendance was a tightly-pulled Calvin Klein, upcoming reality star, Kelly Cutrone, and musician, Michael Stipe - creative royalty were certainly out and representing that night! As Patti busily weaved in and out of various rooms of the gallery to personally show off her work to various pals, Plaztik and I discussed the idea of shooting their next project in my art studio. It would consist of an artist girl "type" and they needed an art space to photograph the model in situ.

In my studio, February 2010. Photo by Jmzs Smith for PlaztikMag.

About a week later, Plaztik paid a visit to my studio where they would be scouting for their next fashion shoot which would entail different types of New York Girls - and the idea for their "Downtown Girl" project was born. While having a look around, these multi-taskers also photographed me and my space for an artist interview. You can read more about me, my art and process, and my opinion about cats, tombstones, and other crazy things here.

Speaking of those ubiquitous downtown girls, I took a long walk around my neighborhood yesterday-
guess who I bumped into?

A Walk Around the Neighborhood - Greenpoint/Williamsburg

I love to go on long, exploratory walks on weekends always making sure that I remember to bring my camera. The weather was perfect on Sunday, and the air was fragrant with spring. I decided that I would enjoy it as long as my allergies can hold out!

(Top photo: Marilyn by Head Hoods)

I live in a predominantly Polish neighborhood, and many of my neighbors still have a direct connection to Poland.  Lots of them have expressed a response to yesterday's tragedy, loss of leadership, and tragic anniversary in Katyn by putting out a flag with a black ribbon attached.

Amidst all of the urban decay, there are spots where Mother Nature reveals

herself to us city dwellers every now and then.

 

A Walk Around the Neighborhood - Greenpoint and Williamsburg

This past Saturday was a beautiful, cloudless sunny day and warmer than it's been for weeks. With the thought of taxes and other chores looming, I decided to procrastinate and succumb to my cabin fever. I ended up walking around Greenpoint and Williamsburg for hours while enjoying some fresh air (as fresh as it can be in Brooklyn) and one of my favorite activities: taking lots of photographs. Here are some of them.

Works above include: Head Hoods (Michael Jackson on VW bus), Gaia (lambs), ROA (a porcine treat), and Clown Soldier.