As I was going through my inventory of flat files, I came across a monotype whose divider sheet was missing. The seeming tragedy of this careless mistake was that the medium had adhered to the back of its neighboring monotype. I removed the piece as tenderly as possible, but heard the sickening tear of paper as part of the paint remained on the back of the other monotype and pulled away a thin layer of paper with it. I felt my temper flare as I turned the piece over and saw three white fibrous craters where paint had been.
To calm myself I returned to the chair I draw in and picked up where I had left off earlier. I had been exploring a design element I had seen employed by the master chef and autodidact Hiroyuki Doi. Hiroyuki had begun his drawings 20 years ago to help him deal with the death of his younger brother. Although my drawing was nowhere near the magnitude of Hiroyuki Doi's work, the repetitive drawing of circles was soothing and pleasing to the eye. Once I had returned to a calm state of mind, I picked up the ruined monotype again. The answer was now clear. I began to employ this design element in the void left by the missing paint and then continued it in the white space across the entire monotype.
This crystallized a notion I had been meditating on all week. As I mentioned last time I have been asked to act as director and host for a new exhibit using art to raise awareness about environmental issues. Certainly not a new idea, but one I believe in. I had begun with the concept of "Limitations," but immediately ran into the same territory everyone else crosses in exhibits like this. "Do you limit the entries to only environmentally safe materials? Do all the supports have to come out of a recycle bin to qualify?" I also played with the notion that the theme should be "Regenerated Art." This would have required the entrants to provide an original artwork (or print of the original) next to the piece that had been reconstructed from parts of the original. But, one thought prevailed as I sought different ways I might interest a wide range of artists in a project like this. The resource we must consider sustaining above all others is the artists themselves.
Last weekend I was honored to be invited back to the Affinity artists meeting at The Haley-Henman Gallery in Dallas. While others were getting coffee and water, I was waiting for the meeting to start near the front of the building. At that moment a young man came through the door, who at first I thought might have made a mistake about the address. The assumption was a natural mistake on my part. It was an art gallery and the meeting was for artists and this young man was being assisted by his guide dog. However the young man was much more at home than I was. He found a seat where both he and his guide were most comfortable and when I finally did enter the meeting room, he greeted me most cordially. I cannot say enough nice things about this writer and artist who introduced himself as John Bramblitt. I found him to be very engaging, gentle and generous. After the meeting, I hurried home to look up his work online, since his exhibit has not officially started at Haley-Henman. I think if you follow the links I have provided to John's website you will be as impressed as I was. Whether John Bramblitt is sighted or not this is beautiful work you really have to see to appreciate, although ironically John does not. However, the take away that makes this relevant to our topic is a statement that John made in his video. Basically as anyone would, John had a lot of anger over losing his sight. It was in the act of creating art that he was able to come to terms with and dissipate that anger. So, here is one more example of art sustaining and nourishing the artist.
I was also privileged to attend the PCPC kickoff for their yearly art festival this week. The speaker was the juror from last year, Makoto Fujimura. If you are not familiar, Fujimura's accomplishments are numerous, including being a writer and master of Nihonga painting (the traditional Japanese art form which he has fused quite successfully with his own abstract expressionist style,) being appointed to the National Council on the Arts in 2003, winning the Chairman's Medal for contributions to art advocacy, founding the International Arts Movement (IAM), and most notably being commissioned to illuminate the 400th Anniversary edition of The King James Bible.
At first I was a little taken back with Fujimura's statement about using the best of materials possible, especially in light of my own recent struggles with trying to find ways to limit use of non-renewable materials. Here is a man who uses gold, platinum, azurite, malachite and other semi-precious stones and minerals in his Nihonga paintings. I almost found it impossible to reconcile that fact with his gentle words of hope for the arts community, recognition that most artists are marginalized and the idea I have long believed, that all men are creators painting with the fabric of their lives. It was only after I had time to read some of the blog entries Makoto calls Refractions that I realized how much he had struggled with that very issue, but had resolved the inner debate with the knowledge that his art (as well as all art) is meant to reveal those mysteries of the divine, speak peace and harmony into a world that brought destruction so close to his New York home near ground zero, and encourage creativity by sustaining artists. Much of Makoto's work and ministry has been to the arts community in New York where he strives to help artists "restore their humanity."
So, here's a novel idea for a sustainability awareness exhibit. I would like to see submissions of how art sustains you, the artist. I am interested in works that convey a sense of peace, harmony, truth, joy, beauty and goodness. Personally, I believe these are the ideals that comfort and strengthen our souls. These notions restore us, renew us and regenerate us as humans, and in doing so, encourage us to be better stewards of our home. These themes and the artists who present them should be what we endeavor to sustain.
To calm myself I returned to the chair I draw in and picked up where I had left off earlier. I had been exploring a design element I had seen employed by the master chef and autodidact Hiroyuki Doi. Hiroyuki had begun his drawings 20 years ago to help him deal with the death of his younger brother. Although my drawing was nowhere near the magnitude of Hiroyuki Doi's work, the repetitive drawing of circles was soothing and pleasing to the eye. Once I had returned to a calm state of mind, I picked up the ruined monotype again. The answer was now clear. I began to employ this design element in the void left by the missing paint and then continued it in the white space across the entire monotype.
This crystallized a notion I had been meditating on all week. As I mentioned last time I have been asked to act as director and host for a new exhibit using art to raise awareness about environmental issues. Certainly not a new idea, but one I believe in. I had begun with the concept of "Limitations," but immediately ran into the same territory everyone else crosses in exhibits like this. "Do you limit the entries to only environmentally safe materials? Do all the supports have to come out of a recycle bin to qualify?" I also played with the notion that the theme should be "Regenerated Art." This would have required the entrants to provide an original artwork (or print of the original) next to the piece that had been reconstructed from parts of the original. But, one thought prevailed as I sought different ways I might interest a wide range of artists in a project like this. The resource we must consider sustaining above all others is the artists themselves.
Last weekend I was honored to be invited back to the Affinity artists meeting at The Haley-Henman Gallery in Dallas. While others were getting coffee and water, I was waiting for the meeting to start near the front of the building. At that moment a young man came through the door, who at first I thought might have made a mistake about the address. The assumption was a natural mistake on my part. It was an art gallery and the meeting was for artists and this young man was being assisted by his guide dog. However the young man was much more at home than I was. He found a seat where both he and his guide were most comfortable and when I finally did enter the meeting room, he greeted me most cordially. I cannot say enough nice things about this writer and artist who introduced himself as John Bramblitt. I found him to be very engaging, gentle and generous. After the meeting, I hurried home to look up his work online, since his exhibit has not officially started at Haley-Henman. I think if you follow the links I have provided to John's website you will be as impressed as I was. Whether John Bramblitt is sighted or not this is beautiful work you really have to see to appreciate, although ironically John does not. However, the take away that makes this relevant to our topic is a statement that John made in his video. Basically as anyone would, John had a lot of anger over losing his sight. It was in the act of creating art that he was able to come to terms with and dissipate that anger. So, here is one more example of art sustaining and nourishing the artist.
I was also privileged to attend the PCPC kickoff for their yearly art festival this week. The speaker was the juror from last year, Makoto Fujimura. If you are not familiar, Fujimura's accomplishments are numerous, including being a writer and master of Nihonga painting (the traditional Japanese art form which he has fused quite successfully with his own abstract expressionist style,) being appointed to the National Council on the Arts in 2003, winning the Chairman's Medal for contributions to art advocacy, founding the International Arts Movement (IAM), and most notably being commissioned to illuminate the 400th Anniversary edition of The King James Bible.
At first I was a little taken back with Fujimura's statement about using the best of materials possible, especially in light of my own recent struggles with trying to find ways to limit use of non-renewable materials. Here is a man who uses gold, platinum, azurite, malachite and other semi-precious stones and minerals in his Nihonga paintings. I almost found it impossible to reconcile that fact with his gentle words of hope for the arts community, recognition that most artists are marginalized and the idea I have long believed, that all men are creators painting with the fabric of their lives. It was only after I had time to read some of the blog entries Makoto calls Refractions that I realized how much he had struggled with that very issue, but had resolved the inner debate with the knowledge that his art (as well as all art) is meant to reveal those mysteries of the divine, speak peace and harmony into a world that brought destruction so close to his New York home near ground zero, and encourage creativity by sustaining artists. Much of Makoto's work and ministry has been to the arts community in New York where he strives to help artists "restore their humanity."
So, here's a novel idea for a sustainability awareness exhibit. I would like to see submissions of how art sustains you, the artist. I am interested in works that convey a sense of peace, harmony, truth, joy, beauty and goodness. Personally, I believe these are the ideals that comfort and strengthen our souls. These notions restore us, renew us and regenerate us as humans, and in doing so, encourage us to be better stewards of our home. These themes and the artists who present them should be what we endeavor to sustain.
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1 comment:
Beautifully expressed! So many deep thoughts here.
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