Thursday, May 5, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
SuttonBeresCuller
SuttonBeresCuller is a collaboration of three of Cornish's alumni, and location for them is very important for their work. Together they make sculptures and installations. They showed us examples of what they have donee. They did an interactive work called "Trailer Park" where they towed a park and bench around by a car, completed with living vegetation. They drove this around, to more industrial areas without nature and parked it, so people could sit on the bench. Another project they worked on was "Island" where they created a floating island and put it in the water. Their intention was spend a week on this island, shipwrecked, but problems with the anchor made their week endeavor to 24 hours. This was just two of the projects they told us about. But with all of the works they did, it completely involved location, site effected how they did the work, what the work meant, and how people interacted with the work. They also said that they never really see their work until they see how the viewer interact with the work.
Something that I can take from their work, even though I am not an installation artist, is seeing how people react to your work, so you know what to do for next time or to modify. I can also take the fact of how locations could easily change the concept of the work.
Something that I can take from their work, even though I am not an installation artist, is seeing how people react to your work, so you know what to do for next time or to modify. I can also take the fact of how locations could easily change the concept of the work.
Jeremy Mangan
Jeremy Mangan quickly became a favorite among the art freshmen. His work is playful, narrative, and very well crafted. He started his lecture with his coffee drawings. He explained that drawing with coffee was a way for him to have less control over his art, after doing realistic work for a long time. The subject matter of these were houses on stilts, for working with coffee and wanting a lot less control over his art, they still seem very structured to me. After doing these coffee drawings of houses for awhile he slowly starts to add local color to his houses, whites and grays. His houses start to look more realistic, adding some landscape to them to make them feel more real. He then adds more color to them, to then painting really colorful strips on the houses to collapsed houses. He then starts to present paintings that don't have houses as the main subject matter. He showed more landscape paintings where his background of realism really starts to show. He did paintings of a Hotel and Bar, Tents, Tent City. In all of these he really kept to them being narrative. The story wasn't clear in them, but left to the viewer to make up their own story to the works. Even though his painting seemed very closely related, he made it very clear that he wasn't interested in making the same kind of work all of the time, that he was all for some of his paintings sticking out from the rest.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Artist Statement
My Individual Project is a painting created with layers of plexiglass. I’ve been interested in layering for a while, and I wanted to experiment with plexiglass because I thought that would help my layering be more important in my work. So far I’ve mostly done my layering with just paints, and it was exciting to do a painting where the layers are more prominent in the piece. To me, a human figure is perfect for this kind of project because with painting a figure, it’s naturally not 2D and not static. So I thought it would be interesting to see a figure have more depth to it in the painting.
Through making this piece, it’s been interesting seeing what works and what doesn’t. Every person has layers to them, it takes time to break through those layers and really know someone completely.
Etsuko Ichikawa
Etsuko Ichikawa's main work was all about drawing with fire on large scale paper. I enjoyed these drawings the most out of everything she showed us. The process of these drawings was impressive, and it's something that will defiantly grab people's attention. But the process of glass blowing and rubbing them onto paper to make burn marks to make abstract designs. She also worked in installation and video, and performance art. She does a lot of collaboration with other artist and researches with others to advance her art work. I understand why she would want to make a video to show her art practices, because it is so experimental, but I don't believe she went about it the right way. She collaborated with a dancer to make this performance, but it didn't come in an intriguing way. If I would change anything about the video, I would like to see it just be her and not a production with a dancer and trying to make it more dramatic than it actually is. I would also would have liked it to have different music to it. I think that it turned into a bigger production than necessary, it should have been more about the practice. But her work as a whole was impressive to me, I really loved the big drawings, but not just because of how she did them or the scale.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Artists Relating to my Independent Project
Lucian Freud- He does paintings of figures in a more abstracted looser brush stroke while maintaining a believable form.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Ray Johnson
To me, Ray Johnson is the perfect example of making art for the sake of making art. I feel as though he just wanted to create for himself. He would create these little collages and mail them to his friends, then asking them to send them on. I appreciate how he wasn't so concerned with selling all of his pieces, but more about just sharing art with his friends and friends of friends, just for the sake of art. My favorite pieces that they showed in the movie were the portraits of his friend. I really enjoyed how he came to his friend to make a portrait and then came back with an abundant of collages that some might not be considered a portrait.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
6 Films and Six Prompts.
1- Maya Deren "Meshes of the Afternoon". Prompt - 6 word poem
=Flower Picked Up, In the Shadows
2. Anri Sala "Time After Time". Prompt- Automatic Writing
=I don't know what's going on yet. This scene seems awfully long for an opening. It's starting to fade out slowly. At first I had to see if it was the film or my brain trying to focus in. Now the horse is back to normal, and I'm wondering if this film is gonna go anywhere. And if we didn't have the automatic writing in this film I think I would be extremely bored. Is this a real horse? Why isn't he doing anything. Now I'm getting bored anyways. I hope he doesn't get hit. But he should walk. I hope this film doesn't end in him getting hit. He's finally starting to move. Thank God that's over.
3. Pipilotti Rist "I want to see how you see". Prompt- Automatic Drawing
4. Pierre Huyghe "Judi". Prompt- Limerick
=There once was half a hill
All I could feel was a shrill
Without sound it would be a bore
With sound it's not a roar
If only this movie was a thrill
5. David Claerbout "Le Moment". Prompt- Image as a line then expand.
= There is a spotlight on the ground. And eery music in the background. I wonder what we'll find. It;s on the ground slowly headed toward the woods.
6. Willam Kentridge "Automatic Writing". Prompt- illot mollo- free write 15 sec times 3
= I wish I knew how these videos were done. Illustrating is the main thing on this page. Human Body, there are no windows in this room. Reflections on Jessica in the White Board.
=Flower Picked Up, In the Shadows
2. Anri Sala "Time After Time". Prompt- Automatic Writing
=I don't know what's going on yet. This scene seems awfully long for an opening. It's starting to fade out slowly. At first I had to see if it was the film or my brain trying to focus in. Now the horse is back to normal, and I'm wondering if this film is gonna go anywhere. And if we didn't have the automatic writing in this film I think I would be extremely bored. Is this a real horse? Why isn't he doing anything. Now I'm getting bored anyways. I hope he doesn't get hit. But he should walk. I hope this film doesn't end in him getting hit. He's finally starting to move. Thank God that's over.
3. Pipilotti Rist "I want to see how you see". Prompt- Automatic Drawing
4. Pierre Huyghe "Judi". Prompt- Limerick
=There once was half a hill
All I could feel was a shrill
Without sound it would be a bore
With sound it's not a roar
If only this movie was a thrill
5. David Claerbout "Le Moment". Prompt- Image as a line then expand.
= There is a spotlight on the ground. And eery music in the background. I wonder what we'll find. It;s on the ground slowly headed toward the woods.
6. Willam Kentridge "Automatic Writing". Prompt- illot mollo- free write 15 sec times 3
= I wish I knew how these videos were done. Illustrating is the main thing on this page. Human Body, there are no windows in this room. Reflections on Jessica in the White Board.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Writing by Meghan Dailey
The identity of ash as a color is questionable. Ash is not ashen—drained of color—but variously gray, whitish, black-like, flecked, dirty, streaked. It can be steely and cold, or the harsh, smoky yield of raging flames. Intangible, abstract, but also very much there, even if only in trace form, ash is an absolute result. Elsewhere, ash is a mood. It speaks of melancholy, New England maybe—turning leaves on ash trees under overcast skies in damp autumn air, that sort of thing. Ed Ruscha's drawing Ash (1971), rendered in gunpowder and pastel, perfectly crystallizes its valences and free–floating (literally) signification. For Ruscha, words are ever the stuff of extended reflection, of puns and hidden meanings, presented as plain as day. I like to think that he must have enjoyed the particular convergence between word and medium (a combustible substance in its pre-asheous state).
One can experience ash by wearing it. The LL Bean catalog sells "Bean's Sloggs," an outdoor shoe available in color ash as well as color black, and also some men's casual trousers in ash—just one among many barely distinguishable neutrals the company offers: taupe, beige, moss, peat, stone, timber, fatigue. The clothing and colors signify the outdoors, and are situated and named as part of nature's continuum. But peat and stone are going to outlive the whims of consumer taste. Ash's relevance as something wearable is proven on Ash Wednesday when, out of humility and sacrifice, Catholics receive ashes on their foreheads as a sign of penitence. Before Mass, many blessings are bestowed upon the incinerated palm branches, then the priest smudges a little sign of the cross on your forehead and reminds you of your future state as dust. In early Christian times the faithful, in their hair shirts, would toil and seek penance and sacramental absolution for forty days. The contemporary equivalent? I contemplate wearing my ashes to an afternoon press preview at a New York museum. How long will I last before wiping them off? (Practically a sin.) St. Anthony's church on Houston and Sullivan has a Mass every half-hour. Stop by, repent, get your ashes.
In France, ash is a verb. To envision life there (I'm thinking of Paris, specifically) as one comprised of a remarkable number of hours spent smoking and sitting or waiting or reading, but always smoking, is to conjure more than mere cliché. They love their cigarettes. There's a tearoom in Paris, in the fifth arrondissement, in the Mosque de Paris. People arrive there early with nothing but a pack of Gauloises Blondes and a copy of that day'sLibération. Some remain there for leisurely stretches of time—the kind of open and unencumbered time that most people only jealously dream of possessing. But regardless of the circumstances under which they are smoked, cigarettes are ubiquitous, and Parisian hands seem never to be without one. Consider the sheer amount of ash produced (once all the butts have been sifted away) by the act of smoking down and flicking (only occasionally, however, for maximum ash length) all of those ciggies. One imagines a gently shifting range of ash dunes, soft as talc, on the outskirts of Paris, in the banlieue, or out on the suburban banks of the Seine, temporarily eroded by rain, but built up again by the endless supply of carbon cargo brought in by the fleet of Renault dump trucks that offer round-the-clock transport of the residue of that toxic, intoxicating daily habit.
Such imagery is doubtless a product of this non-smoker's perverse fascination with a smoke-loving culture. It's bigger, though. For me, ash has become a metaphor for the Parisian emphasis on repose. It has been transformed into something I call ashitude. In France, simple inquiries such as "Did you receive my letter?", "Do you know when Mlle. Blanche will return?", "Is it possible to purchase this item?" and so on, seem so often to elicit a "non." Ashitude is a particular form of dismissal; don't look for sympathy, expect shrugs. Example: If you leave your Filofax on a payphone at Orly Airport, don't count on getting it back. Go ahead, call the bureau des objets trouvés, maybe they'll be open. Maybe they will answer the phone. If they do, inquire in faltering French whether anyone has found un agenda in the terminal. Silence. Then a casual yet considered response: "Un agenda… non, non…." The shame and disbelief that the contents of your life are now possibly amongst cheese rinds and Café Kimbo grounds (and, yes, cigarette butts) in a French landfill, and the utter disregard with which your plea is met, prompt the following scene to flash across your brain: The gentleman on the other end of the phone is sitting, smoking the most aggressive cigarette ever rolled, thumbing through your Filofax and ashing on its pages. Non, non, non. Ash, ash, ash. You thank him anyway, wish him a very bon jour, and hang up, understanding that your concept of time has been refreshingly, maddeningly done away with. It is now as lost as the precious Filofax, which might as well be a pile of ash for how its log of days, activities, encounters, and numbers now exists only as a trace in your mind. This unknown French ash–man, having successfully killed time—just simply extinguished it like his last cigarette—has demonstrated something of how incidental language is. In the translation from one to the other, the particularities and references of your respective languages—more broadly, your sensibilities—were lost. Maybe a few cigarettes were not the only casualties of your exchange.
One can experience ash by wearing it. The LL Bean catalog sells "Bean's Sloggs," an outdoor shoe available in color ash as well as color black, and also some men's casual trousers in ash—just one among many barely distinguishable neutrals the company offers: taupe, beige, moss, peat, stone, timber, fatigue. The clothing and colors signify the outdoors, and are situated and named as part of nature's continuum. But peat and stone are going to outlive the whims of consumer taste. Ash's relevance as something wearable is proven on Ash Wednesday when, out of humility and sacrifice, Catholics receive ashes on their foreheads as a sign of penitence. Before Mass, many blessings are bestowed upon the incinerated palm branches, then the priest smudges a little sign of the cross on your forehead and reminds you of your future state as dust. In early Christian times the faithful, in their hair shirts, would toil and seek penance and sacramental absolution for forty days. The contemporary equivalent? I contemplate wearing my ashes to an afternoon press preview at a New York museum. How long will I last before wiping them off? (Practically a sin.) St. Anthony's church on Houston and Sullivan has a Mass every half-hour. Stop by, repent, get your ashes.
In France, ash is a verb. To envision life there (I'm thinking of Paris, specifically) as one comprised of a remarkable number of hours spent smoking and sitting or waiting or reading, but always smoking, is to conjure more than mere cliché. They love their cigarettes. There's a tearoom in Paris, in the fifth arrondissement, in the Mosque de Paris. People arrive there early with nothing but a pack of Gauloises Blondes and a copy of that day'sLibération. Some remain there for leisurely stretches of time—the kind of open and unencumbered time that most people only jealously dream of possessing. But regardless of the circumstances under which they are smoked, cigarettes are ubiquitous, and Parisian hands seem never to be without one. Consider the sheer amount of ash produced (once all the butts have been sifted away) by the act of smoking down and flicking (only occasionally, however, for maximum ash length) all of those ciggies. One imagines a gently shifting range of ash dunes, soft as talc, on the outskirts of Paris, in the banlieue, or out on the suburban banks of the Seine, temporarily eroded by rain, but built up again by the endless supply of carbon cargo brought in by the fleet of Renault dump trucks that offer round-the-clock transport of the residue of that toxic, intoxicating daily habit.
Such imagery is doubtless a product of this non-smoker's perverse fascination with a smoke-loving culture. It's bigger, though. For me, ash has become a metaphor for the Parisian emphasis on repose. It has been transformed into something I call ashitude. In France, simple inquiries such as "Did you receive my letter?", "Do you know when Mlle. Blanche will return?", "Is it possible to purchase this item?" and so on, seem so often to elicit a "non." Ashitude is a particular form of dismissal; don't look for sympathy, expect shrugs. Example: If you leave your Filofax on a payphone at Orly Airport, don't count on getting it back. Go ahead, call the bureau des objets trouvés, maybe they'll be open. Maybe they will answer the phone. If they do, inquire in faltering French whether anyone has found un agenda in the terminal. Silence. Then a casual yet considered response: "Un agenda… non, non…." The shame and disbelief that the contents of your life are now possibly amongst cheese rinds and Café Kimbo grounds (and, yes, cigarette butts) in a French landfill, and the utter disregard with which your plea is met, prompt the following scene to flash across your brain: The gentleman on the other end of the phone is sitting, smoking the most aggressive cigarette ever rolled, thumbing through your Filofax and ashing on its pages. Non, non, non. Ash, ash, ash. You thank him anyway, wish him a very bon jour, and hang up, understanding that your concept of time has been refreshingly, maddeningly done away with. It is now as lost as the precious Filofax, which might as well be a pile of ash for how its log of days, activities, encounters, and numbers now exists only as a trace in your mind. This unknown French ash–man, having successfully killed time—just simply extinguished it like his last cigarette—has demonstrated something of how incidental language is. In the translation from one to the other, the particularities and references of your respective languages—more broadly, your sensibilities—were lost. Maybe a few cigarettes were not the only casualties of your exchange.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Research for Third Work
My third substrate was inspired by the Indian holiday Onam. It's a religious holiday that is celebrated in a 10 day festival. During this festival people make these flower designs with the main colors being green, orange, yellow, and purple. I didn't know about this culture until this assignment, but I'm glad to have stumbled upon it.
Process of Artists
Even though some of the Art 21 videos didn't show as much of the artists processes as the others. They all at least hinted towards inspirations and some of how they work and their studios. I think that all artists, even if it isn't fully understood or noticed, have a unique process in which we work. Some of the artists we looked at are very organized and neat. The first artist we looked at even keep many little strips of color in envelopes and makes her choices very carefully. In through this process her work comes out to be very neat as well. While her process was very structured, other artists work in chaos, taking piles and piles of stuff with him everywhere. In paying close attention to artists processes I'm starting to take notice of my own process when I work.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Keith Negley
Keith Negley's inspiration mostly comes from the news articles he is asked to illustrate for. His style for his work includes dulled down colors, adding textures, simplified people and graphics, and making his illustrations look weathered. He also takes inspiration from other artists and incorporates it into his work.
I've never really noticed my own color palette before recently. But I seem to gravitate towards pastel colors in my paintings, I don't notice a similar pattern in my photographs yet, but I think because I'm still just starting photography. In my paintings and drawings even if I have a specific color scheme I tend to add a lot of different colors in there, even if hardly noticeable.
I've never really noticed my own color palette before recently. But I seem to gravitate towards pastel colors in my paintings, I don't notice a similar pattern in my photographs yet, but I think because I'm still just starting photography. In my paintings and drawings even if I have a specific color scheme I tend to add a lot of different colors in there, even if hardly noticeable.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Artist's Color
1-http://www.markwarrenjacques.com/#235955/Work
Triad Color Scheme
2-http://www.acmelosangeles.com/artists/tomory-dodge/
Triad Color Scheme
2-http://www.acmelosangeles.com/artists/tomory-dodge/
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Art City
What do you see are the shared struggles and inspirations of the artists in Art City?
I didn't see too many inspirations or struggles shared with all of the artists featured in this film. But I did notice some with a few of the artists. Nature, architecture, investigation, portraits, people, using what they have to their advantage, and location where inspirations shared with at least 2 of the artists. I didn't find as many struggles shared, but I did come across the need to exclude paintings, getting across their message, and being a part of a community as some of the struggles.
I didn't see too many inspirations or struggles shared with all of the artists featured in this film. But I did notice some with a few of the artists. Nature, architecture, investigation, portraits, people, using what they have to their advantage, and location where inspirations shared with at least 2 of the artists. I didn't find as many struggles shared, but I did come across the need to exclude paintings, getting across their message, and being a part of a community as some of the struggles.
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