A Virtual Gallery Hop Like No Other: The Louvre, Guggenheim and Local Art, Too

Sitting Bull X 4

On one level it may seem like house arrest. On another level it might be a blessing to have to slow down, to catch one's breath after years of frenetic rat race life.

What I've observed, however, is that even within only a couple weeks of lockdown we're finding ways to fill up our time with busy-ness rather than getting laid back about it all. Those on social media have discovered storytelling, and via Zoom and other technologies we're getting invited to meetings and all manner of live events.

A Post-Modern Man

If you don't mind, I'm trying to stay away from most of those events because being busy all the time--at least for me--is not what I'm looking for out of life.

Nevertheless, I don't mind sharing a few things with you if you promise to take this in moderation.

This article in Hyperallergic had links to some of the world's great art museums. For example, you can tour the Guggenheim in New York, the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, or the Louvre in Paris any time you want, any time of day or night. In fact, now that we're social distancing, this is the perfect time to visit the Louvre. No lines. No fees.

The one thing I do miss about living on the East Coast is access to the art galleries in New York, Philadelphia and the National Gallery in D.C., where I saw Vermeer's Girl with Pearl Earring many years ago when it was on loan there. In that moment I understood what Dali was striving for in his efforts to channel the Dutch master.

LOCALLY, artist talks are one of the regular features of the Duluth Art Institute, but with quarantines these talks have now gone virtual. You can see some of the work via video on their Facebook page, though it's nothing like being in person any more than a Polaroid camera can capture the Grand Canyon.

The Tweed Museum of Art on the UMD campus is closed for now but rumor has it there will be a virtual component for their collection.

Duluth Downtown Art Walk has been taking baby steps in that direction. Amanda Hunter of Joseph Nease Gallery made this video of Esther Piszczek's Zentangle Art that is on display at Duluth Fine Pianos. You can follow DDAW here on Facebook.

Somehow, I stumbled on this event and thought it looked interesting. If you're not sure what to do around mid-morning any of the next few days, the Roberta and Bob Rodgers Gallery of Omaha, Nebraska has been featuring a series of events titled Wanda Ewing: Prints.

For me personally, when I was a young art student, the whole purpose of looking at art and books about art was to get inspired to make art. I've been seeing a lot of new work displayed on Instagram by numerous artists from the local community. If you have some favorite artists, and are also on Instagram yourself, seek them out and follow. There's a lot happening out there, you just need to know where to look.

Meantime, art goes on all around you. Get into it.

Local Art Seen: Another Rewarding Weekend

Mark Anderson @ Goin' Postal

Where does one begin? This was an exceptional weekend for experiencing art. Yesterday I share images of student art. It seemed a few other highlights were in order from the Fourth Annual Spring Art Show at Goin' Postal to the other things seen about town on Art for Earth Day.

The highlight was Friday night's Goin' Postal Show which attracted continuous traffic throughout the evening. Like most people who guess crowd sizes I may be off by 25% one way or the other but I estimated at least 200 people passed through the doors there to see what was going on. The walls were filled with plenty of new work, in all media. The artists stayed busy sharing themselves with friends. The renovated underground studio held its own as a new venue in town, a private party open to the public.

Most impressive to me is the caliber of people involved with and attending the show, from a retired judge and business executives to people walking by on the street stopping in to see what's happening.

Revelation by Brokke

Mark Anderson played a soothing jazz guitar in the background while people mingled about the space that is by day Andrew Perfetti's shipping store. New work and old intermixed, just like the crowd.

On Saturday I commenced with the Phantom Galleries -- Superior, first stopping at Adam McCauley's and Sarah Brokke's exhibits in the New York Building. Brokke's show, on the left side of the pop-up gallery, was titled Shift. She's a painter's painter and does wonderful canvases. McCauley's loose grid shapes reminded me a bit of Mondrian, not in the colors per se but in the collection of squares and rectangular shapes. Both painters have a love of color, and a distinctive evolving style.

Sarah Brokke

Galleries in the Canal Park area include Art Dock, Siiviis and Waters of Superior. The latter has an upscale feel and always wonderful examples from some of our better known artists and photographers. It is the "home gallery" of Craig Blacklock, I believe.

Siiviis featured the work of Marian Lasky and Rick Allen of Kenspeckle Press, as well as their usual assortment of works. Adam Swanson was present with his uplifting hot air balloon and windmill-themed paintings.

From there I went to UMD and eventually home to work on projects, but "Oh the Things You'll See" if you visit our galleries. Here are some pictures I took this weekend.

Meantime, art goes on all around you. Need to step in out of the weather somewhere, choose an art gallery!

Symbols and Symbolism

In art history Symbolism was an actual movement in which pictorial means were used to convey allegorical meanings. Throughout history, however, artists have used symbols and symbolism, especially in religious iconography.

To illustrate the difference between symbolism and representational art, picture a cave drawing of several buffalo images with a dotted line crossing a bunch of wavy lines. This representational piece is telling people where the buffalo are and how to get there. (They are across the river.) If one of the buffalo has wings and is flying above the herd, it might be some kind of early symbolic expression. ("The gods granted me an opportunity to take one.") If there is a large tripod-like creature lifting one of the buffalo and a screeching noise being emitted with a beam of light coming out disintegrating the other buffaloes, then you are looking at an early telling of War of the Worlds. Later historians would then endlessly debate whether this was Realism or Fantasy.

All this to say that symbolism is as much a part of art as metaphors are to poetry. For example, in David Bowie's Is There Life On Mars? the line, "look at those cave men go" is not referring to cave men but to lowbrow brutes having it out in a bar fight, or possibly the alienated teenager is watching a movie of such. The words are not literal but rather metaphorical, as is Em Dickinson's line, "Hope is the thing with feathers" which Woody Allen turns around to indicate his own -- and modern man's -- existential alienation and despair with the title of his volume Without Feathers. Or he may mean he is exposing himself.

O.K., so this was a long intro to make a small point about my Lincoln paintings. The first painting, Blue Lincoln, was not really about Lincoln at all. I had read a quote somewhere that "you can't fight an international war and a civil war at the same time" and it resonated with me. I believe it was from the book Maximilian and Carlotta in which the U.S. could not defend Mexico against European incursion (a violation of the Monroe Doctrine) because it was in the throes of its own civil war. For me this was a perfect symbol of many lives today who are battling their own inner conflicts and have unresolved issues internally while simultaneously trying to carry on with their life purpose of service to the community, a cause or the world-at-large. Many people have been sidelined by internal conflicts who could be leaders of organizations in need of leadership.

The Lincoln image thus became such a symbol for me. The overarching internal conflict between good and evil, righteousness and temptation, left the president blue.

The painting Lincoln II has a brighter background, but his features are ashen. The subtitle, Portrait with One Dying Eye, is a reference to the line from Dylan's Hurricane. "The wounded guy looks up through his one dyin' eye, Says 'What'd you bring him in here for? He ain't the guy.'" The song is ultimately about injustice, as noted in the second to last verse. "To see him obviously framed couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land where justice is a game."

And so it is that presidents themselves become symbols. Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech was not delivered in Arlington Cemetery, land that formerly belonged to Robert E. Lee, but rather at the Lincoln Memorial. Symbols have power. Symbols resonate.

I mention all these things with an end in mind. Thursday evening there will be more than a dozen art gallery openings and an all day gallery hop on Saturday. I'd like to encourage you to take to the streets and see a bit of all this creative energy that is emerging here. And as you engage the arts, whether the visual arts, music, poetry or theater, it can be a rewarding exercise to engage the work in a deeper way, look for threads that lead deeper into the mind of the artist or beyond to the culture-at-large.

Of course some art is simply what it is. Sometimes a sitar is simply a sitar.

Here's a link to the Duluth Art Institute page where you can scroll down to a PDF listing the galleries, with maps and locations. My work (no Lincolns, but several Dylans) will be on display at Goin' Postal in Superior, along with perhaps a dozen other artists. The Phantom Galleries Superior will be open that night as well. Plan your route and invite your friends. Drinks are on us.

Ten Minutes with Veteran Artist Martin DeWitt

I first saw Martin DeWitt's paintings at a show titled Homecoming this past November at the Duluth Art Institute. After this interview I was surprised at how much we had in common, from Tom Terrific to our love of both painting and Mexico. Though a bit long for a single blog entry, there are a lot of rich insights here. Take it in.

Ennyman: How did you first become interested in art as a career?
Martin DeWitt: Probably my earliest memory and taking notice was when we went to the grand opening of Disneyland in 1954 in Anaheim, Calif – and seeing the Monsanto sponsored “House of the Future” – even as a 7 year old kid, I was impressed by the cool design – and futuristic “products” that were sure to make our lives more efficient, easier, especially for the apron clad woman of the house (we of course now know that Monsanto developed other products – heavy into military weapons – Napalm used in Viet Nam.) Mid-century, science and design merge, space exploration, discovery, these ideals were the mantra of the 60s. Maybe because I really liked the “Tom Terrific and his Mighty Dog Manfred” Terrytoons TV show – all that travel in space and Tom’s ‘funnel” hat was especially impressive.

Both my older brothers are artists and they had early interest in art and design. My oldest brother Terry is an architect, and Mike is a painter. As a young kid I watched them as they started their interest in art and art careers and ended up following in their footsteps. Over the years, we have exhibited our work together in a few “DeWitt Brothers” exhibits. We moved from Southern California back to rural Galesburg, Illinois where I grew up in the 60s. We had a strong art program in the schools even back then. Our high school art teacher took our high school art club to the Art Institute of Chicago and the Field Museum. Plus, we had family in Chicago, so we drove in or took the train in to the city quite often, and visited the AIC and other museums quite regularly – it was great to be so close. In 1962, as young teens my brother Mike and I joined the local art guild – the group ended up renting a storefront in downtown Galesburg to open a community gallery, hold classes, and start an annual art competition, called Galex (now in its 46th year), its become a national recognized show. In addition, as a high school student, I won an art scholarship sponsored by the Univ. of Illinois School of Art & Design - a weeklong art camp at “Allerton Park Estate” in central Illinois. There I met other kids from throughout the state who were interested in art and were heading into art careers. In college, I moved into the studio area – and taking on the painting challenge – where I am today, still at it.

E: Who have been your biggest influences?
MD: My early years my artist brothers no doubt. My teachers over the years, mostly in art but also other academic course work, were always influential. Several remain mentors to this day. My college and university art faculty, of course, especially studio and art history faculty led the way in influencing a work ethic and exploration curiosity.

While working on my MFA degree in Illinois State Univ., I applied for a Painting Fellowship at the Brooklyn Museum School – and was selected – and ended up living in New York and Brooklyn for a few years in the late 70s and early 80s. This was a huge opportunity for me. With concentrated time in NYC I was able to get to the galleries – hang out in Soho, go to all the museums regularly, the Met, Whitney, MoMA, Guggenheim, Brooklyn Museum and Botanical Gardens (spending time in the Japanese Gardens at BM was a huge influence on me…and my work, as I was developing a direction and personal passion).

I remember going to a performance on a hot late afternoon at the Kitchen in Soho in 1977 – John Cage and David Tudor performed a concert called “Homage to Conch.” Cage had lined up a series of different size conch shells filled with water on a card table – Cage was sitting in front of an open window at the table with the conch shells – with all the sounds of the city going on, sirens, traffic fumes, taxis beeping, dogs barking – while amidst those sounds from the outside, Cage “played” the gurgling conch shells while Tudor played Satie on the violin.

Gosh, endless influences – the biggest...? Does “what” count as “who.”? If so, nature has been my muse – Lake Superior, Smoky Mountains, So. Cal. light and the Maine coast. Otherwise, taken from my artist’s statement... Russian artist Wassily Kandinsky’s “compositions” and his On the Spiritual in Art are classics I refer to regularly… Fritjof Capra’s Tao of Physics; Tantric focused imagery and ideation; the spirit filled Chi (“empty”) space in Chinese landscape painting; Giotto’s (13th c. Italy) wonder-filled ambiguous pictorial space and George’s (Morrison) surrealist and light filled Lake Superior horizon paintings; Robert Erwin’s “perceptual space”; Richard Tuttle’s sensory ‘no-things’, Corbu’s Ronchamp cathedral portals of light - have been there on the forefront in transforming space and form with light - the way we engage the community and the world. The likes of giants Gerhardt Richter, Howard Hodgkin, and Pat Steir are paint movers and shakers that require a point of reference and for me a frequent look see.”

E: In what ways has the fine arts scene changed since you were in school in the 70's?
MD: The biggest change in the current art scene from 40 years ago has been the influence of technology, social media. Artists can be immediately connected to other artists, the community, and the world actually. Collaboration was big even in the 70s, alternative spaces taking off. As grad and undergrad art students at Illinois State Univ. We sought out empty storefronts and secured cheap space to set up studios in downtown Bloomington – and started a co-op gallery along with a few art faculty. Some of the earliest alternative spaces were started up in Chicago in the early 70s and we were encouraged and followed that model. Our goal then was and we did go to New York City, a group of us, lived in Brooklyn and either shared or had small studios in cheap lofts. It’s so great to see so much going on at this very moment in Duluth and Superior, Grand Marais, Bayfield. No doubt part of a continuum of art and artists inspired by this place, on this big lake.

E: What was your take on pop art at that time? And how do you see it today?
MD: I loved it! The in-your-face imagery, mirror-ization was really Pop culture was really ramping up in the 50s-60s…growing up in So.Cal – as a kid – having more of everything was a good thing! The marketing boom was peaking - it seemed natural to respond to the Viet Nam era culture in some shape or form. Cool, calm and collected on the outside, rumbling on the inside – something had to give – explode! I thought that pop art was especially slick – and indeed did truly reflect our bulging consumer and mass culture. Again, it made for artists to respond. There was a global response to 9/11 - and now Iraq Vets and Artists Against the War - a big question is, how did Viet Nam and the anti-war movement change or impact the direction of contemporary art then – still wondering about that. Today? Technology and social media continues to have such a huge impact on contemporary cultures throughout the world. It seems natural for artists take advantage of technology as a resource, medium and art form – plus networking possibilities offer immediately response and opens for dialogue - an art form unto itself, and enhances the communication role that art performs. Back in the 80s – the notion of “pluralism” was bantered about – well, today, studios and galleries are filled with a limitless array of expressive response to contemporary culture – and rightly so – and I like it.

E: In what ways did your Mexico experience influence the direction of your art? (In what part of Mexico did you live?)
MD: I have maintained a special interest in modern and contemporary art of Latin America – with its bold colors, unique cultures, and its considerable social content reflecting the many successes and struggles of its people. I also remain intrigued by pre-Columbian art and architecture, on its own merit, as well as in relationship to Native American art on this side of the “border”. My wife Sharon and I have travelled to Central and South America every year for 25 years, the Caribbean including Cuba as well, sometimes with student or artists groups, on our own, or with family. The importance of the arts in these countries remains huge, essential to the culture. Very influential about these places, like here, has been the integral presence of the indigenous cultures – that to this day are vital.

Over the years, we have made a point of spending meaningful time in major art centers, like Mexico City, San Miguel de Allende, Taxco, Merida, Cuernavaca, Oaxaca, and San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas, Mexico. We have established life-long connections and friendships with artists and non-artists in these places – via study abroad student and artist trips and Sister City partnerships. Most recently, we spent three months in San Cristobal. We also made a recent life changing trip to Cusco and Machu Picchu, Peru, the major 15th c. Inca site – where I say in my artist’s statement, “…intangibles of space, time, place and light have played out…layered cultural memory has surfaced in my recent paintings” – due to these memorable experiences. Specifically, in our travels, we’ve seen decorative vinyl table cloths…in lavish or simple homes, tiendas, churches…while in San Cristobal, I searched out a source for these “El mantel de vinil” with colorful patterns and images, often directly related to the Central American culture…down in the San Cristobal market and shopping zone, I found an entire table full of patterned at a fabric store. I selected 3 different styles…and I incorporated these into the paintings I did while I was in San Cristobal – title of this series of paintings is “En la mesa donde la conversación se inicia I (at the table where the talking starts).”

E: What advice would you offer to young people interested in a career in the arts?
MD: Spend as much time as humanly feasible making art – being expressive. Look at as much art as possible – get to galleries, visit museums…get out of town. Get off the computer and learn to draw. Take drawing seriously as an art form unto itself. Learn history and art history – make the connections, consider the impact and influences. If in school, travel, study abroad. Talk to people from other cultures. Be active in your local community, volunteer in a museum or art org. (looks great on a resume and may even end up as a part time or full time paid position let alone the experience of meeting great people and serving) -- join or start an arts group. Duluth is where it's “art” – get active and be involved. Seek out cross-disciplinary collaborations. Get on the grant trail – and when you do write a grant, make sure you have a “community” component linked to your proposal, if that is an option. Also, consider learning a skilled “trade” – or other moneymaker, like: electrician, welder…or health related job, that may pay the bills and studio overhead. This requires a longer discussion.

E: As do many discussions here at Ennyman's Territory. Thank you to those who have been reading. Enjoy the week.

Top photo, left to right: Martin DeWitt, Simon Grey and Sharon Sanders at the Stagecoach Gallery

Twin Ports Art Scene Highlighted in Earth Day Gallery Hop

The weather was perfect. Whatever you were planning, the clear skies made for a sweet, breezy afternoon no matter what your pleasure. We did a little hiking near Carlton, then dropped into Canal Park for a portion of the Duluth's 20th Anniversary Art for Earth Day Gallery Hop.

The annual event includes free trolley service to the various locations, which are quite spread out actually, ranging from the Art in the Alley in Superior to Tweed Museum up at UMD. Being mid-afternoon we took in the Canal Park galleries, especially enjoying the atmosphere and eats at Silvertson's. (Oh, yes, the art there is wonderful, too.) Wish we'd had time for more. I know that Jeffrey at Lizzard's had been exceedingly busy re-arranging everything there for this special event. I strongly encourage you, especially if you are not a regular face in the galleries here, you owe it to yourself to check 'em out. Don't wait till next year's Gallery Hop, though that salmon and cheese spread at Sivertson's was to die for, and I will be dreaming about it for the next 365 days.

Here's a list of this year's participating galleries. If you're in town, most are open year 'round and all have something to offer.

Art Dock

394 South Lake Avenue, Duluth

Blue Lake Gallery

395 South Lake Avenue, Duluth

Duluth Art Institute
The Depot, 506 West Michigan Street, Duluth

Duluth Public Arts Commission

301 West 1st Street, Duluth

Sivertson Gallery

361 Canal Park Drive, Duluth

Tweed Museum of Art

University Minnesota Duluth, 1201 Ordean Court

Zeitgeist Arts Gallery

222 East Superior Street, Duluth

Waters of Superior

395 South Lake Avenue, Duluth

Art In The Alley

912 Hammond Avenue, Superior, WI

Gaia Art Gallery (above Hell's Kitchen)

310 South Lake Avenue, Duluth

Lizzard’s Art Gallery and Framing

11 West Superior Street, Duluth

Washington Studios Artist’s Cooperative

315 North Lake Avenue, Duluth

If you're in the Twin Ports area on a weekend getaway or weeklong escape, the galleries will welcome you. Many have treasures which you'll want to bring home to remind you of our neck of the woods since many of the artists who show their work have been themselves inspired by the sensory offerings of our Northland, both the scenes and the activities.

Discovered Artists

I remember reading article while in art school about when artist Mark Tobey came on the scene. He was a Seattle abstract expressionist who was "discovered" later in his career, and the article (as I remember it) attempted to make the case that it was surprising that a man of his talent hadn't been "discovered" sooner. I personally liked his paintings and found inspiration for one of my own in his Zen-like abstractions.

Reading the Wikipedia article about Tobey this morning, I realize that my mental image of the guy has been far different from the reality. I pictured a Seattle artist in the Upper Northwest making paintings and contemplating the universe. Turns out, the Wisconsin-born artist, who moved to Seattle, was a world traveller who lived in Paris when Gertrude Stein was reigning, travelling to such exotic places as Constantinople, Beirut, Japan, Barcelona and Greece. By the time he had his first solo exhibition in Seattle at age 45, he was a seasoned veteran of the art scene and no newcomer.

I'm not looking for recognition (yet) by the New York cultural community but, like many emerging artists, I'm serious about creating good work and finding my audience. In order to accomplish this, artists seek venues where they can display. After sifting a variety of online art sites and galleries, I discovered a gallery which impressed me because of the caliber of artists it represents, DiscoveredArtists.com.

Things I like about DiscoveredArtists.com, besides the quality of the work, include the easy navigation, the helpful training videos for artists seeking to show their work and develop their careers, the clean look of the gallery... and the fact that they are set up to take credit cards in a secure fashion which helps make the financial transactions easier. I also like the way in which artists can show not only their paintings and photos, but also a few pictures from their studios and wor spaces. I think it helps build the relationship between collector and creator.

And, oh yeah, one more thing... you can find and purchase some of my work there. New York can wait. For now, DiscoveredArtists.com is my home.

Selling Art in the 21st Century

Like every other field of endeavor, the Internet has changed the art scene as well. How often do you call the research person at the library? I used to call the research desk all the time. How many call their broker to learn stock prices? I'm curious if people buy Rand-McNally maps like they used to now that we have Mapquest.

One thing the Internet has proven is that it can bring buyers and sellers together in unprecedented ways. EBay is a prime example. People who once held garage sales to get rid of all that excess garbage by following the dictum "One man's garbage is another man's treasure" now sell the goods to an immeasurably larger audience than their hometowns. So, too, there are artists selling in this manner.

Selling art on EBay feels strange to me, though. This morning, for example, there are 2,055,599 pieces listed as art. If you narrow this down to paintings, it is 310,306. And if you look at the expiring auctions, perhaps 30% have a single bid. Yet people are selling.

I briefly corresponded with one young artist who got her start on EBay. The auction site helped her realize she had some marketable work, and it was an easy way to test the market without great expense.

This is not to say the brick and mortar art galleries are going away any time soon. We live in a land with a lot more free time, now that we have running water and electricity. We don't have to spend hours chopping wood and walking to the creek with water buckets every day. So you find a lot of artists and musicians and writers, people being creative in various ways. Unfortunately, all this productivity results in something of a glut on the art markets. Lizzard's Gallery in Duluth has every available wall space crammed with works from area artists. There is no shortage of product. The challenge for galleries is determining how to best use that space, how to carry inventory that will find a home, in a home or office.

In addition to eBay, there are a host websites out there striving to represent good work, and help buyers and sellers come together in a healthy manner. For example, sites like Discovered Artists will give emerging artists a platform while maintaining a higher standard than the eBay venue.

The Internet's great claim to fame is information, and when it comes to selling one's work, you don't have to go far to find it. Just Google it. The Net gives artists access to more information than ever about how to sell your art both online and off. Plus, through Amazon.com you can browse an ever widening selection of books on this topic, many which promise to do wonders for your career.

And then there are the artist communities scattered across the virtual landscape. Some are active and growing, some are now ghost towns. I found several on Facebook which were created with good intentions, but eventually devolved into residue where no one has posted or shared in ages. I myself belong to a Ning network called Artwalk, which gives artists a place to set up a gallery. I have not sold through Artwalk, but the gallery helped me to get a couple of my shows. I simply send the link and say, "Check out my work."

Be careful about getting delusions of grandeur. As in the writing field, there is plenty written to lead a novice to believe that he or she will be the next Shakespeare or Hemingway. Remember why you are making art in the first place.

First Hand Experiences

"The true artist helps the world by revealing mystic truths." ~ Bruce Nauman

It's official. Last night after work and much of today I have been hanging my paintings at drawings at a place in the West End called The Venue @ Mohaupt. The title of the show is First Hand Experiences: A Retrospective with Glimpses of Things to Come.

A couple weeks ago, when I was first asked to consider it, I felt a little overwhelmed at how much work there would be to get things ready. Then, I did an inventory of what I have already framed, and learned a technique for displaying my painted masonite panels. In short, things came together quickly and we're underway.

First Hand Experiences is primarily a presentation of my recent works, but I have also assembled representative pieces from my earlier days including a pen and ink illustration that won a contest and was published as cover art. The $25 was nice, too.

Preparing the show has brought back a few other memories. The first is how my grandmother used to say I never scribbled when I was little, that from my earliest I used to draw. I can't say whether this is fact or fiction (that I never scribbled) but I do remember at a very early age that I loved to trace things. I remember getting fascinated by drawing faces, then cutting out the eyes and putting different backgrounds behind the face to see how the various colors and patterns would change the expression. I must have been about five years old at that time.

At some point when I was five or six my parents enrolled me in some classes at the Cleveland Museum of Art. I still remember a couple of those lessons. In one instance we were shown a room with images from the medieval era and we were shown lettering that was all embellished with leafy vines and swirly curlicues. Each of us was instructed to draw our own initial in this same embellished fashion. I, of course, did the letter "E".

A couple years later I used to watch this artist on television who showed you how to draw perspective and create three dimensional depth on a two dimensional surface. This kind of thing was utterly fascinating for me and still fascinates.

The open house, to which the public is invited, will be on July 21 from 6 - 9 p.m. The Venue is located at 2024 West Superior Street in Duluth's West End.

The Future of Art

On Sunday, I wrote some harsh things about the direction the modern art scene had gone in my article The Painted Absurd, in which I pointed readers to Tom Wolfe's The Painted Word. Wolfe's real adversary is not the artists, however. He was attacking the art critics who decided for others which works should have value and which were tripe for garage sales.

In truth, I still like to frequent the galleries, and I certainly understand where some of the modern movements came from. I like to see what is going on in the art scene as well as its manifold expressions along the periphery. It's a great source for ideas if you make art yourself. And if you imagine yourself making enough money to be a patron of the arts, it is a good way to see what's out there.

For the same reasons I peruse the art mags.

The March 2009 edition of ARTnews caught my attention because it had a cover story titled, "Where Is Art Going?" The feature collected an range of perspectives from museum curators and the like, thus it deals more with high art than just art in general. "A New Creativity" by Ann Landi postulates that because the economy has been trashed, the art market has been altered as well.

“Difficult times bring out the best in the best artists,” says David Ross, who was director of the Whitney Museum during that biennial and is now director of Albion New York, a SoHo affiliate of the London gallery. “When the economy falters, there can be a remarkable growth of seriousness in art.” But others see the notion of an art-market meltdown leading to new forms of creativity as specious hogwash. “I’d say the bohemian fantasy is sweet and sentimental, but rather insulting to artists,” says Christopher Knight, art critic for the Los Angeles Times. “In my experience, artists do what they do, market or no market. During the ‘80s boom, terrific work was being made by artists who barely got the time of day, and some of them were artists we simply started to look at in the ‘90s as the dust settled from the crash. That will happen again.”

Further along Landi writes:

The very nature of the way artists are perceived changes when the price tags cease to be that important. “In a downturn, artists are no longer validated according to their market value,” says Mary Sabbatino, vice president of Galerie Lelong in New York. “You’ll have an end to the quote-unquote critical description of Marlene Dumas, for example, as the most expensive living female artist.”

The one statement I liked in the article was that artists are going to make art no matter what the economy is doing. And it doesn't need to be validated by being in a gallery. Yes, even Dr. Seuss's drawing are now gallery pieces, but he began by making children's books. Much of what I'm doing right now, for example, is for illustrative purposes. Occasionally I like framing my work and plan on some larger, more serious endeavors again this summer now that my garage is converted into the three season studio. I don't need Federal funding to paint, draw, make music.

The thing is, when some people talk about art, they're talking about the art industry. The art industry may be hurting, but from where I sit the creative urge is alive and well in this country. It may be hard for poets to get published because no one reads poetry magazines much, but this does not stop poetry or music or other forms of creation from happening.

My time is up for now, so this is a theme I will have to return to yet another day. What's your take?

NOTE: The picture of a bear that you see here is a painting that we saw at a gallery in Sedona. The seated boy was produced this past week here.

Patterns

While watching an episode of Rod Serling's Twilight Zone, "Night Call" (Episode 139 -- February 7, 1964) there is a scene where the old woman has been assisted into a wheelchair. The camera angle is from the viewpoint of an adult looking down to the woman. Across her lap is a knit afghan with a zigzag pattern similar to the kind my grandmother used to make, and it seems like for just a moment the camera lingers on the pattern.

One of the thoughts I had at that moment: what would an afghan look like if instead of being knit into a pattern, the colors and knitting were totally random? Isn't it the pattern or design that gives the afghan its interest?

I recently wrote about color as a facet of making or appreciating art. Design and pattern could be added to the list of things which can make a drawing or painting interesting.

Nature is full of patterns, from atomic structure to the design of galaxies... from the incredible Fibonacci sequence to the rhythm of waves... from the phenomenon of day and night to the miracle of a heartbeat...

Many patterns are useful and many "just are." Daily routines, tastes, patterns in our relationships, patterns of thought, of behavior, of interaction with our personal space... patterns in how we go about getting self-understanding, patterns of taste, of desire, of haste, of waste.... Patterns feel right and normal to us.

For the Dionysian, chaos is the preferred realm. Order and structure feel confining. Daily routines get boring. A steady job is like working on a chain gang. Admittedly, there is something appealing about the unknown, about loss of control... temporarily.

But how many are there who can truly live an utterly patternless existence? You don't know when you will rise, or lay down, go out of return home again... if at all...

In the realm of art I have at times enjoyed making totally abstract art. Yet even then, when painting random colors in a random way, I would have to say that total arbitrariness is unnatural. Our mind keeps wishing to interpret, to organize the impressions made by the colors, lines, strokes, shapes... While adding more lines, I can choose to define the shapes or leave them totally loose. But we are attracted to a measure of order, shape, balance and pattern.

We notice it in music, too. A beat, rather than arbitrariness. In jazz, the straight beat may be replaced by syncopation, but even syncopation structures itself. Chord progressions, harmonies, all conspire to organize sound into pleasing patterns.

In certain realms patterns are especially comforting. Breathing, for example... regular breathing, in and out, easy, nourishing us with vital oxygen, this is good. Difficulty breathing, due to failing lungs, lack of air, being held underwater... these can be pretty frightening.

I guess that's one of my patterns, to take a string of thought into an unexpected direction. Come back tomorrow and we'll see where it goes next.

Terrorists Preying

It is Short Story Monday. This is the first section of the story I wrote about here on this blog last Friday. After sharing the first portion of this story with a professor and writer of fiction from Chapel Hill NC, I was encouraged by the words, "a good beginning." He suggested I develop it into a much longer piece. This is that first section.

Terrorists Preying
c 1992, ed newman

"The true artist helps the world by revealing mystic truths." ~ Bruce Nauman

Although I'd been an art major in college -- mostly painting and drawing -- I became discouraged with it shortly after graduation and gave it up. I was living with my family on Long Island at the time and for some while afterwards I still visited the New York art galleries, making regular tours of the Whitney, the Guggenheim and the Modern.

What finally got me out of art was the whole directionlessness of it all. No one seemed to know what art was about any more. DuChamp started it, of course, with his Readymades. It took the rest of the world a half century to catch on. Everything was art, the critics were saying. For myself, their steel-firm logic stubbornly taunted everything I'd built my life around, leaving me creatively disabled, impotent, and broken down. In the end, I became the essence of minimalism, and ceased to exist.

After leaving Long Island in 197-, I knocked about various parts of the Midwest until by some circuitous route I ended up in Minnesota. I hadn't been to an art gallery in nearly ten years when I finally decided, while living here in Minneapolis, that I should check out the Walker. By chance I had picked up some Twin Cities rag and saw mention of a show that included new work by Les Garnet, with whom I had shared a studio at Tyler where I'd gone to school in Philadelphia. Les was a small town Ohio hick who back in '72 got mesmerized by the Big Apple and turned freak, getting his hair kinked, wearing snakeskin boots and finding his way into the weird world of fashion design. On the side, he maintained a loft in SoHo, which was fashionable at the time, and began doing a lot of work with sprayers.

I remember how Les kept saying he hated the city and would one day get a farm in the country, but the review of his current show gave every indication that he and Kyle Benders -- it was a joint show -- were New Yorkers through and through. The review referred to Garnet and Benders as being in the forefront of New York's "New Breed Movement." Their work was described as "serious" and "provocative." The reviewer went on to praise their "refusal to compromise when dealing with the real issues of our time." Mention was also made of the "myopic vision of our age.

"Was this the same Les Garnet with whom I had painted at Tyler? I kicked myself for missing the opening -- he surely would have been there -- yet looked forward with eagerness to visiting the exhibition of Les' work as soon as possible nonetheless. I decided I would explore the Walker that following Sunday and experience first hand the hottest new trends in modern art.

Sunday afternoon. As I casually made my way through the Walker, I was impressed by the well-represented selection of Modern works, including pieces by nearly all the "names" of our century. The Chuck Close piece was strikingly placed. A prominent Frankenthaler, somber Rothkos, a colorful Morris Louis, some Pop art and kitsch by Lichtenstein and Warhol, pieces by Albers, Poons, Rauschenburg -- all these marvelous pieces hanging out together like an old gang.
They left their mark on all of us, the young painters who flowed through art schools in search of answers to the Big Q, "What is Art?" These are those who provided versions of the answer, annotated, up-dated, and outmoded, inebriating us with inframaddening inferences, delicious anti-art sentiments, and godlike gestures; fanciful creations that were probably not always authentic in their pretensions. So be it. I drank of that well and, for a time, it satisfied.

Had I not been seeking it, I may not have found the New Breed show at all, as it had been tucked away in a special gallery on another floor at the top of an unmarked flight of stairs. No doubt this would explain why there was no one else present to witness or experience what I was about to witness.

Entering the gallery, I noticed a small holder stuffed with silver brochures and I took one.

- Imitation Reality -
A Preview of Recent Works

by Kyle Benders and Les Garnet

Sponsored by The Walker Museum of Fine Arts

in conjunction with the "Best of Show" Modern Arts Series

Itself a very attractive piece, this silver chromecote brochure radiated slick sophistication, with its blazing blood red letters laying down the challenge, Imitation Reality, implying there's more here than meets the eye. I was ready. Still, I've never understood how the critics, the press and the galleries could take these guys so seriously.

Then I saw their work.

The first thing to capture my attention upon entering, on a wall directly opposite from where I'd been standing, was a series of eight or ten large framed pieces which gave the appearance of being the most grotesque color enlargements from a medical encyclopedia, body parts with the skin removed, infected with cancerous tumors but somehow distorted. The images were super-realistic, as if actual photographs, though the legend stated they were mixed media and non-representational. Title for the series: "Man's Essence in the Age of Science."I turned away and chose to find something else to dwell on.

There were a number of small paintings on the wall behind me and a number of unusual three dimensional constructions in various sections of the room. To my left there was a very large painting that was obviously Les' work, but before losing myself in it I was tantalized by the holographic image that was set before it. On a thick patch of lush grass knelt a life-sized image of a woman, a woman in motion, removing her robe in the most provocative way imaginable. She was kneeling with her back to the room so that one had to walk around to her other side to really see what men long to see, but as soon as I began to walk alongside her, she drew the robe back up over her shoulders and modestly bowed her head. The holographic scene was absolutely stunning in its effect and I walked around it twice to see if there were any way to gain access to some secret vision, and failing. I couldn't imagine how it was done. When I walked behind her, she slid the robe off her shoulders again and was about to let it drop. Yet when I stepped again to her side, she once more began pulling the robe back up over her shoulders.

The whole scene left me both amazed and amused at the clever use to which modern technology had been put in this provocative demonstration.

When I at last turned, I found myself standing beneath and before an exceptionally large canvas titled "The Light" and I saw what it was before which this woman was kneeling, unveiling herself.

From a distance the painting appeared orderly and actually restful to the eye. It was a yantra of sorts, a focus for meditation in which one stills the mind by becoming absorbed in its balance and symmetry. On closer inspection, from my new position between the woman and the wall, the painting was an incredibly detailed and graphic reproduction of scenes of sexual perversion and unspeakable violence, crushed together in a horrifying vision of hell. But these images of cruelty and ugliness -- painted beautifully, I might add -- which fanned out across the canvas were not the primary focus of the painting; rather, they were obstacles hiding from view the primary theme: behind all darkness there is light. Ultimately, it was light which illuminated these scenes of degradation and brutality, a light that was hidden by these same scenes, though from a distance one could see gleams of that brilliance breaking out from its hiding place beyond the wall of corporeal images crammed into this immense space.

While staring at this awesome painting, which filled nearly a whole wall, I wondered how long it had taken Les to paint such a volume of detail. Only the drivenness of obsession could propel a man to produce this kind of work.

Just then, a jogger in a grey T-shirt and red shorts walked in through the main gallery door. I had been alone for some several minutes at this point, so he startled me. And he, being unaware of me, breathing heavily and wiping his forehead, cheeks and neck with a bunched up hand towel, strode past me on his way through the center aisle of the room. His sweat-soaked T-shirt clung to him. I guessed that he'd just finished a lengthy jaunt around the lakes and came in here to cool off. His vacant-eyed head bobbed as he walked, hanging forward with bushy black brows too full for his thin, slack-jawed face. I could feel his fatigue as he ambled through the pristine corridors of the Walker.

As the jogger approached the far end of the room, three men emerged from the double doors there. The jogger stopped when he saw them and responded as if he knew them. I couldn't hear what they were saying.

The smallest of these men squared off with the jogger in a half jest sort of way as if to box, like old school chums do upon meeting. Next, the guy started poking at the jogger, once or twice reaching out and pinching his leg, then slapping him lightly.

Suddenly, they were all over him, grabbing him and bringing him down. The one man was a huge, bull-necked kind of guy, all bronzed and enormous like a Turkish bouncer. The jogger writhed, making desperate spasmodic efforts to escape. They shoved the hand towel in his mouth as a gag and while the other two held him down, the Turk began twisting his foot. The jogger moaned in anguish.

Waves of panic shot through me as I realized I should do something. Should I run to get help? Then I became confused. Was this even real? Or was it some kind of performance piece, like the three dimensional woman who appeared to be disrobing there beside me? "Challenging our sensibilities"... "new level of intensity"... I stood dumbstruck; I didn't know what to do.

The Turk now had the leg sideways. A crackling sound of breaking bone echoed through the gallery and the agitated jogger went berserk. Wriggling his good leg free, he crashed it into the biggest guy's side, without result. Quickly the other two brought the loose limb under control and continued their torture.

I was walking toward them now, walking the length of the room until I was standing over them, close enough to touch them, and they didn't even notice me, as if I were invisible, a mute phantom eavesdropper.

Their faces were serious, businesslike. They worked quickly, not frenzied. One of the two smaller men, a man wearing a green army jacked, perspired slightly. Glancing up he caught a nod from the Turk and pulled out a knife, which he flipped open with a click.

At this, the jogger was in fits. His left leg had been broken and was pushed forward, perpendicular to the floor, the foot twisted around backward, everything all wrong and stupid and unbelievable and sickening.

At this, the jogger was in fits. His left leg had been broken and was pushed forward, perpendicular to the floor, the foot twisted around backward, everything all wrong and stupid and unbelievable and sickening.

The Turk shoved the knife into the side of the knee and with quick jerking movements severed the kneecap on three sides. Grabbing the dangling kneecap in his fist he pulled it away from the leg and, with a twist, wrenched it from its place, leaving a gaping hole, torn tendons and bloodied flesh. Immediately, like rodeo cowboys who have just finished branding a terrified calf, the three men leaped to their feet. As if on cue, all three shot glances in my direction, then turned and bounded from the room, leaving me alone in the gallery with the jogger, who was lying on the floor at my feet, his head arched back, arms and hands convulsing at his sides, the leg flopping now, pathetic and strange.

Evidently a guard who heard the commotion had run to call the police. An ambulance had been called while others from The Walker rushed about to help administer first aid to the violated man. When the police finally arrived, I was seated in the stairwell, staring with unfocused eyes, my hands fastened to the handrail.

Continued next week on Short Story Monday

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Miscellaneous Findings

Downtime. Visiting shops and such here in Bayfield. Dropped in on Madeline Island from mid-morn till two. Breakfast at the Egg Toss Bakery Cafe. Across street from the Stone's Throw. Made bad joke by asking the waitress if there were any cool shops a stone's throw from here. She looked up, and laughed.

The Stone's Throw was indeed a cute little shop. Next door we spied a used book store and quite naturally gravitated there. Susie found Volume 9 of Mark Twain's Life on the Mississippi. Signed by Mark Twain, which appears to be genuine. We'll have to research it. (I once bought a used paperback by Erskine Caldwell that he had signed. I disliked the book at the time, and traded it for four books at a used book store in Duluth.)

Looked at a biography of Lenny Bruce by Kofsky. Made note to check it out from library.

Also looked at a number of art books for ideas. A book of graphic art by Eugene Berman appealed to me as a source of ideas for my own brush and ink drawing that I have been doing lately. Also found lots of idea stimulants in the many art galleries and shops we visited on Mad Island.

Spent time thumbing through a pictorial bio of gangster Al Capone. Seemed as if the book existed to glorify the lawless thug, as if he were a hero. Made me wonder what it is about gangsters, gunslingers and pirates that so appeals to people. I was certainly fascinated by their stories as a kid.

Enjoyed reading the following phrase in Gunther Grass' My Century while crossing the waters on the ferry: "A symphony of snores." It made me think about sleeping in a cabin on a men's retreat many years ago and the range of snoring styles that kept me awake that night.

The forecast was rain and thunderstorms. But the sun has now emerged from Bayfield's dormant sky and blessed the day with warm brilliance.