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Tag: A Few Questions

Why do original works of art often strike us, at first, as being coarse, awkward and difficult to place?

I guess the question could have been asked another way but this was the question I read this morning in the recent Art Signal (by the way the issue is available for free download if your interested). I has not interested in the article which was about music, because the idea was more interesting to me from a visual standpoint. The thought that something that we visually have no reference for is going to be met with rejection (at worst) or with an awkwardness the belies not the object but our place in putting it in some kind of visual structure.

I think the object itself is always going to be new, but lets be clear for a moment, I’m referring to a new visual approach – not a sequential idea carried forward from an artist that is refining their approach over time.

So does it always come down to some kind of internal art historical perspective? or is there something else?

I’d love to hear your thoughts….

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A Few Questions: Johnnie Winona Ross

Lets talk a bit about your process, I know your work has multiple layers and each layer seems to get sanded in some way – what brought you to such a complex approach to building your images?

Some of this question is attended in responses below Repeating the mark, or the drip, scraping, burnishing, builds a physical history within the painting I’ve used this example in the past, but it is still the best way that i know to explain; when you see worn stone steps, whether at an Anasazi site, or the Met, it is interesting to consider the scores of people that have used or using the steps in roughly the same way or seeing the keys on an old piano, worn with use. You realize that you are just part of the stream of history, a large or small part, but you are only moving through It is a humbling, and revealing realization I try to create the same in a painting The painting looks worn, (because it is) I repaint the painting sometimes 150 times, each time removing what I can, the linen is stretched at about the same tightness as the palm of one’s hand, I’m pushing on that, it pushes back, I burnish, paint, drip, remove, burnish until it all comes together in an unexplainable way I try to locate the viewer in a history, or at least make them aware of the stream.

On top of the surface work – you clearly are concerned with showing how your work is attached to the support structure How or why did this develop as a key element to your work?

Maybe this has a little to do with the history above Every aspect of the experience of painting and viewing is as important as any part The stretcher plays a role that is as important as the painting of a zinc white stroke, fixing the linen with handmade copper tacks instead of shooting stables through the linen into the wood, is a philosophical choice Using Basswood instead of pine, every edge is slightly rounded so it feels good in the hands when you pick up a painting Using expansion corners so the stretch of the linen retains the feel of the palm of the hand regardless of being in the desert or with the humidity of the coast. There is a beauty in that, a craft, a care, conscience decisions being made that maybe helps one to be aware of the possibility of the sublime (I can’t believe i’m using that word), the over all effect that the painting somehow transcends the everyday physical world.

I know that you often get compared to Agnes Martin, however I think comparisons like that are a bit of a cop out (even though I used it as well), I see a lot of different things in the approach of what is painted on – and the residue of its sanding off Who were some of the artists that influenced you in the earlier formation of your work?

Dame Agnes It is odd, and I am a little perplex by the comparisons I respond to her paper pieces, the delicate water colours, the grids, how she uses paper. I’ve had a more difficult time with her paintings, I really haven’t looked close at that body of work, sure I see them, but they just don’t hold enough interest for me, strange as it seems, there just isn’t enough there for me I’m more interested in the Dame Agnes phenomena, how Agnes Martin became Dame Agnes, living in our small town That is interesting.

Serious influences, Brice was a major one for a number of reasons So much has been written about him over the years, but from the viewpoint of an artist who’s education and development is placed specifically in a time period in which AbstractExpression was feeling somewhat over-used, and minimalism was beginning to overlap. Having professors that were AE, and some that were first gen out of Germany (Bauhaus). I was working in a minimalist direction, but as a painter. I was concerned with the painting as an object Ellsworth Kelly, the black and early metallic paintings of Frank Stella were really quite important and ground breaking I wanted the painting to both be an read as an object, and I also wanted the paint to utilize the AbEx language, ie the paint stroke to express something that was non-verbal and to add another complexity, Maleovich, Kindensky, and Zen artist, (Japan, Korea), begin to add a spiritualism that I couldn’t separate, from the object and non-verbal expression It sounds a bit silly now, but in the late 60s as an artist trying to find his way, it was a monumental task, there were no footprints to follow. Brice Marden really made the leap with the monochrome panels. The physicality, the object, but with expression; marks in the encaustic, and importantly, the drips as the bottom. This was before Post-Modernism opened everything up.

Then he did it again, with the Cold Mountain series exhibited at Dia in the 80’s. Brice added line to plane, with spiritualism as an underpinning.

FootPrints.

but…

Inspiration: Nature, the desert/mountain environment. Barrier Canyon Style rock art, amazing painting, so complex but direct. The Great Gallery in HorseShoe Canyon is one of my all time favorite pieces of art, the most powerful visual statement that I’ve ever seen It has been dated at 5000BC- 200BC. It is in Utah. Several Anasazi panels in our FourCorners area, including a beautiful panel just down the road from my casa, in the RioGrande Gorge. The burnishing of the pottery found around these sites. The burnishing was done to harden the surface before glazing was used. The surface is incredible, it is the inspiration for my burnished surface.

The images below are from an excursion to a site in Utah that i keep returning to, these were taken a few days ago. They are mixed cultures of Freemont, BarrierCanyon, Anasazi, (and some early century cowboy vandalism).

With the long timeline of your painting process, do you find yourself wanting to follow new directions, but maybe realizing that the new direction will not be able to be followed – possibly for months Does something like that influence your decision making and how do work with that if it does?

For instance, I’m working currently on a series of grid paintings, no drips. The dominate axis is vertical instead of horizontal. The vertical lines dominate, the horizontals seem like they are in an atmosphere well behind the verticals It feels like a Vermeer interior atmosphere. I began working on those about 3 years ago, along with the drip pieces, knowing that they will dominate what I do in the future, but I wasn’t finished with the drip pieces, and had no desire to stop painting those. Again, the transition that occurs in my work is an evolution, ‘the stream’. I also work with Tamarind Prints (litho), and SantaFe Editions (digital) to work out concepts on paper before moving to linen.

I recently read in the Brice Marden catalog for his recent show at MoMa that location can play a huge difference on the color and saturation of his paintings Working in the
south-westen US Does location influence your work?

In terms of location; it is huge. Nature informs my work. I spent so many years working in a place that I didn’t respond to, thinking it didn’t really matter much. I lived in Maine, I was in nyc alot, I found I was traveling to the SouthWest every chance that I got. The light, the culture, the archeology, the desert, mountains. It was austere, real, exposed, but mysterious, it was not a casual place that you just were. It was a spiritual experience experiencing a rock art panel that was 2000-5000 years old, that is more affecting then any piece of art that i’ve ever seen. In 1994 I spent another year on grant at Roswell, my work really solidified, it wasn’t like it really changed, it just became more powerful, it began to have that feeling of ‘experiencing the rock art panel’, or ‘experiencing the desert’, it became still, real, and a unique experience My studio has 12′ glass doors that face a 13,000′ mountain, to one side of that is Taos Mt the sacred mt. It is an unobstructed view. That view feeds me, everytime that I look up.

When I moved from Maine in ’99 the underpinnings of my current work had been in place for about 10 years. I built a studio, and added a second room to my small adobe. This took almost a year, 2 native americans worked with me. When I moved into the studio, the first work that I did, (for Site SantaFe), was surprising in it’s austerity, focus, and power It was work that I could not have done in Maine. The brightness of the light seem to manifest itself in the predominance of the whites, which also focused and grounded the work. Colour became quite subtle. (much like the environment I was working in). The drips seem to take on an additional meaning in the desert where water is precious. Most of my marks created an additional effect naturally, as in the transitions of opacity of the whites, which is a result of process, all of which is more efficient, which is how one lives in the desert. These are paintings that are located specifically, but responded to by a pretty large audience.

What artists are you currently looking at?

Those unknown artists 5000 years ago that painted and burnished the rocks around me.

I thought the Robert Mangold show ‘Pillars’ was interesting. Brice Marden, Wes Mills, Stuart Arends, Ellsworth Kelly, Vermeer, early Robert Ryman, James Turrell, Donald Judd in Marfa, Texas I’m not seeing much work by younger artists that really affects my spirit, I see some cleaver, interesting work, but at the end of the day, it usually does not change me someway.

What’s next (upcoming shows, etc)?

A book is being published, released in october Large format, approx 300 pages, designed by Skolkin + Chickey, foreword written by Douglas Dreishpoon, (Knox-Albright), and the main text written by Carter Ratcliff There are limited editions including one with a small painting, also one with a panel mounted print. I have a show with Stephen Haller, nyc; in October There are several things happening in 08 and 09, which is as far as I want to see my life organized!

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A Few Questions: Isaac Layman

Lets talk a bit about your process, I know your work is made up of multiple photographs to create the larger image – what brought you to such a complex approach to building your images?

This question really ties in with the Photoshop as a tool question. I like photoshop. I wouldn’t be making the color work that I am today without it. I’ve got an older iMac and with large files, a gig and over, when you zoom in or out it renders in big blocky sections. The first of my color prints “Foamcore” (below) is built from six photographs in Photoshop. I did this in order to create a high resolution print. In order to make the print seamless I had to overcome issues of perspective, vignetting, and color variations. While seamless is what I achieved in “Foamcore” I wanted to make another piece that used seams, disjointed imagery and obvious perspective anomalies. This led to “Extension Cord” and “Bookcase” (above).

I like the peculiarities of single perspective. By building “Bookcase” out of many different perspectives these peculiarities become more evident. It’s also a way to imply that any photograph is built from many decisions, a nod to the idea that all pictures are from the subjective view of the photographer.

The images that you produce; electrical cords, foam core, books, etc. are all pretty banal. How do these images relate, is it through the banal approach or is there a collective unconscious to the selection/approach of the subjects?

All of the objects I photograph are mine. I like them. They are generic, almost iconic within the works, but to me they are specific. Through high school and college I almost solely wore white t-shirts. My studio is in the basement along with a small wood shop and storage shelves. I end up walking over extension cords and past my lawnmower (below) on a daily basis. I don’t photograph Apple computers or copper frying pans because I don’t want to celebrate the easy appeal of these objects. Most of my life I’m surrounded by ordinary things like extension cords, brooms, saws, and garden hoses. I like these things for their utilitarian function and character. I photograph them because while they are personal to me they don’t cloud the finished work with sensational connotations.

I like this quote from Joyce Carol Oates, referring to Yeats,”How does the poet transform his banal thoughts (are not most thoughts banal?) into such stunning forms, into beauty?” I particularly like “are not most thought banal”. I think most thoughts are banal as well as most things. But I also think mundane and precious don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I feel warm towards the things I photograph.

I’m not after nostalgia at all. While these are specific objects for me, I want them to be generic to the viewer. By keeping the object that’s in the photograph ordinary I can call attention to the decisions I’ve made regarding how it’s represented.

I have only seen photographs of your new work on display at The Lawrimore Project, one of these seems to break with what I would call traditional photography and becomes sculptural – this seems to be quite a break with your past work (at least to my small knowledge of your entire body of work) how did this occur and what brought you to enter the third dimension (as it were)?

The “Lawnmower” was made in 2003. It and “Self portrait” are made practically the same way. In both an object was set on photographic paper that ran under the object and up the wall behind. In the case of “Self portrait” I chose to display the image flat. As a side note, I made this piece in Rome, where I was quite interested in marble and concrete figurative sculpture.

Although “Lawnmower” is the only piece that projects into the room, it plays to the question that spurs much of my work, “How does photography describe something” in this case the work highlights the absence of the subject.

Who are the artists you are looking at right now (new or old)?

I just saw the Matta-Clark retrospective at the Whitney and loved it. So much of his work is relevant to photography. His sections of freestanding walls are like an extreme expression of “taking a photograph”. I also frequently think of Lucas Sameras’s polaroids, the way he drew on the print surface conflating the represented and the factual. Maybe even more than the formal achievements of his work I find his personal reflection inspiring. I also think of Jim Dyne and Robert Rauschenberg.

We met initially in Miami this year, where it seems you had quite a successful introduction of your work to a larger audience, How has that been and what is next for you after this current show winds down?

It felt fantastic to have people look and think about my work. These objects are very personal to me. I’ve thought about them a lot and it was great to see other people considering them. The current show at Lawrimore Project showcases important moments for me, photograms, building an image from many single points of view, and running through out the work are my ideas regarding portraiture.

Currently I’m working on a show based on my residence in Seattle. While the “Bookcase” hid the book titles it revealed much more about my home that other works before, hard wood flooring, white trim etc. By drawing on aspects of cataloging and documentary I’m continuing to describe my place from the inside out. It’s a little like taking pictures from inside the belly of a whale.

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