depARTure

The Horizon and the Interstate Sublime

  Timothy Tompkins,Sunrise, 2005, Interstate Sublime Series 

A couple of weeks ago I attended the opening reception of Fine Line, a group exhibition of three artists at the Museo De Las Americas in Denver. For this exhibit, the artists were asked to respond, in their material and media of choice, to a horizon line that had been drawn in pen across the walls of the Museo. Each artist's interaction with the line was unique in style, material and form, mirroring the huge variety of emotional and intellectual responses 'the horizon' stirs in each of us.

Yet the three individual interpretations of the artists together yielded one continuous installation across the walls of the Museo- a landscape whose peaks, valleys, rivers and plains were comprised of industrial screws, sewing pins and crumpled paper currency--objects not ordinarily associated with the horizon or any other aspect of the natural world.

Fine Line was one of the most intriguing exhibits I've seen in quite some time in Denver and deserves further discussion and analysis. But as soon as I left the Museo, I couldn't help but think about the significance of the horizon line throughout art history--how it has been considered and rendered by different artists as an actual line and also as an allusion to an emotion or desire. Specifically, the contemporary artist Timothy Tompkins was brought to my mind--and I will return to his Interstate Sublime series as the culmination of this discussion about the horizon line in American art.

On a technical level, the ubiquitous horizon line is the foundation of linear perspective which originated in Florence, Italy in the 1400s and continues to be the method of graphically depicting three-dimensional objects and spatial relationships on a two-dimensional plane. In every two-dimensional picture, the horizon line runs across the composition somewhere near the eye level of the viewer and depicts where sky and ground meet, thus serving as the point of orientation.

But most interesting to me is that on an art historical level, the treatment of the horizon and the landscape surrounding it--the vast frontier, mountain-pass and dazzling sunset--is reflective of American social, religious and political trends. The horizon and its surrounding landscape have been employed in the visual arts to communicate or symbolize shared ideals and sentiments of the American populace and its government. In these cases, there is no need to include human beings in the work: instead, the artwork's orientation towards the horizon effectively substitutes.

The wilderness has always played an essential role in fashioning America's national identity. Specifically in the 19th Century, as explorers and settlers expanded west, the concept of Manifest Destiny, or the theory that God gave white Americans the sole responsibility and authority to make use of the land, became central to building the American narrative.

Enter the Hudson River School artists. Considered the first coherent school of American art, the Hudson River School painters successfully constructed a sentimental lexicon of idyllic imagery that helped popularize the mythos of the boundless American landscape in the 19th Century.

Rooted in European Romanticism, the Hudson River School was characterized by dramatic landscape paintings that revealed both the tranquility and the turmoil settlers might confront if they were to brave new territory.  Located in the Hudson Valley of New York, they were plein-air (outdoor) painters who spent much of their time observing nature, similar to their contemporaries, the Transcendentalist writers.                                                

Image 1: Asher Durand, Kindred Spirits,1849 Image 2: Thomas Cole, Oxbow,1836  Image 3: Albert Bierstadt, Among the Sierra Nevada, 1868

Click photos to enlarge

   

 

Majestic and large scale canvases like Asher Durand's Kindred Spirits (image 1) sought to inspire Americans to get into nature, converse with God and explore new frontiers. I think it fair to say that the horizon line, always looming far in the distance, set a tone of intrigue, thrill and yearning for the unknown. Ideally these canvases prompted viewers to feel compelled to explore and settle the American wilderness. Obviously, such an agenda would have served both the individual and the nation: the more people who were inspired to expand west, the more territory America would eventually acquire.

Thomas Cole's Oxbow of 1836 (image 2) is a classic of this school-- the scene feels sublime overall, yet nature's unruliness is also suggested. The founder of the Hudson River School, Cole purposefully juxtaposes a seemingly hospitable, warm, sun-lit river valley and a brewing, potentially relentless storm. Ultimately, Cole reveals the tension between nature and civilization, a conflict that American explorers and settlers constantly negotiated. Nonetheless, the mood is sanguine and the painting intends to be inspirational. From this elevated vantage point on a hill, painter and viewer are to gaze outward and imagine what possibilities exist beyond the infinitely distant horizon.

Similarly, Albert Bierstadt's Among the Sierra Nevada, California of 1868 (image 3) seeks to evoke patriotism and reverence. The painting's supernatural lighting suggests that if one can reach this place where the sun cascades out of the clouds and on to the river, one may find God. Similar to Cole, Bierstadt portrays the wilderness as divine but not fully tangible or conquerable; one must trudge through water and dense forests to get there. Once again, it is the horizon in the distance that delineates the very place where God resides and where unfamiliar opportunities await.

The Hudson River School endured for two generations of painters. Their legacy of revering the American wilderness and instilling it with divine sensuality set a precedent for many American artists that continues into the present day. Writers and artists like the Hudson River School painters propagated the notion that the American landscape was wild, awesome and a vital feature of America's unique character. Importantly, these artists successfully popularized for generations to come, the concept of Manifest Destiny.

The contemporary artist Timothy Tompkins posits that although the term 'Manifest Destiny' was officially phased out in the 20th Century, the expansionist tendencies it outlined have never gone out of style. Tompkins' Interstate Sublime series revisits Manifest Destiny in the context of contemporary 21st Century America.

Whereas the Hudson River school painters emphasized the awesome and untamed character of the American wilderness of the 19th Century, Tompkins paints the landscape of the 21st Century, one that has become a multi-textured fabric of man-made and natural elements. Whereas the Hudson River School artists sat as observers, recording the wilderness beyond them, Tompkins places himself behind the wheel of a car, journeying along the Interstate and photographing what he sees as he penetrates the landscape, all the while driving toward the horizon.

Images 4, 5, Timothy Tompkins, Interstate Sublime series, 2005: 4.Green Hills, 5.Morning Sun

Click photos to enlarge

 

 Difficult to appreciate in the jpegs here, Tompkins' Interstate Sublime series is strikingly gorgeous. His technique is distinct in that he starts with a photograph, reducing it to its basic 12 to 16 colors in order to blur and thus abstract the forms; then he prints the photograph onto an aluminum sheet. Next, he layers high-gloss commercial enamel paint onto the aluminum surface, giving it an intense luster. He builds the paint onto the photograph, and because the enamel paint is so quick drying, the contours of one form bleed into the next, giving the paintings an expressive and improvisational feel. The paintings look wet, as though they were still forming.

Images 6, 7 Timothy Tompkins, Interstate Sublime Series: 6.Palms, 7.Powerplant

Click photos to enlarge

 

With the exception of Powerplant, (image 7) Tompkins titles all of the works in this series after a natural element in the scene: Tree, Palm, Green Hills. Yet the tree, palm and green hills after which these paintings are named, appear to serve as backdrops or corridors against and through which vehicles travel from one place to another. The cars, trucks and factory silos are as much a part of these compositions as are the trees. Tompkins illustrates that the natural world has been pushed aside and trimmed back to make room for the Interstate, yielding an entirely new American landscape suited for industry and continual modernization. 

Similar to the Hudson River School canvases, the mood of these works is sublime yet slightly menacing. In each work, the sky's mesmerizing patterns, unusual, iridescent color scheme and fantastic emanations of light, draw the viewer in deep. Yet these hyper-real colors and surrealistically rendered forms feel ominous, suggesting that the Interstate Sublime series is rooted in tension or uncertainty. To further heighten this ambiguity, the artist has partially or fully obstructed the horizon line by traffic, factories or the Interstate itself.

I like to look at Tompkins' works as sequels to the Hudson River school paintings: where once lay open prairie leading towards an impassable mountain range, now sits I-70 and the Eisenhower Tunnel (in Colorado, of course) which have cut through mountains to create access to Keystone and Copper ski areas, among others. Undeniably, the Interstate provides us today with the ability to reach and explore those places that in the 19th Century were inaccessible. But our access to the mountains and oceans comes at a cost  to the pristine integrity of the American wilderness. Similarly, America's status as a superpower of industry and productivity is made possible only by compromising the natural world. Tompkins' Interstate Sublime series illustrates that the American landscape is today one in which nature and built environments have been inextricably melded, both for better and for worse; at once our horizons broaden and disappear.

All Timothy Tompkins images are courtesy of DCKT Contemporary, New York.

 

Takashi Murakami and the Zen Master Daruda

A couple of weeks ago I went to Los Angeles to visit my brother Ari.  Planning expertly for my visit, he crafted an itinerary highlighting food, excercise and art.  We began Saturday with a hike up Runyan Canyon, followed by a well-deserved brunch, and then topped off with a thorough exploration of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art's newest special exhibits.

We began our visit to LACMA with the Art of Imagination, a comprehensive yet somewhat monotonous exhibition of Edo-period Japanese painting. My disenchantment with the exhibit undoubtedly resulted from the fact that we unknowingly entered the annex of the exhibit before we viewed the main space. Unfortunately for us and I am sure many other viewers, the paintings in the annex were incredibly dull in comparison to the dazzling landscapes, enchanting tigers and brilliantly plumed peacocks that were on view in the main exhibit hall.

I am not sure I understand what the curators were thinking in their arrangement of the paintings--grouping strong works all together dilutes the prowess of each individual piece. Additionally, 10 lack-luster paintings look even worse en masse than they do individually. So overall, the Art of Imagination's art- induced bliss factor was zero.

Nonetheless, I found plenty of noteworthy and even inspirational creations. The highlight of the exhibit for me was not beautiful, intriguing or technically impressive. Instead, the work spurred a visceral reaction- it propelled me into an intense few moments of deja-vu.

Just as Takashi Murakami's series of large-scale portraits of the Zen master Daruda had captivated me several months ago at the Brooklyn Museum, here at LACMA, the famous Zen sage Daruda, hung on the wall just high enough to tower above me, lured me strait into his bulbous eyeball.

Daruda was an Indian sage, the founder of Zen Buddhism. Legend has it that he attained enlightenmnt after sitting in meditation before the wall of Shaolin monastery for 9 years, without blinking his eyes. During this process, his arms and legs atrophied and fell off.

When viewing the jpegs here (#1 is the LACMA Daruda and  2, 3, 4 are Murakami's) you might sympathize with the head-trip I experieneced. This Edo-period Daruda portrait at LACMA looks strikingly similar, albeit much older, to the Murakami versions I had seen a few months ago in Brooklyn. (click to enlarge)

Exxagerated, almost caricatured facial features are the focal points of both the Edo-period Daruda and Murakami's renditions. Clearly, the ancient canonical image of Daruda has traversed time and hurdled continents: the master's stern expression, characterized by weighty eyelids, bulging eyeballs and grimacing lips is unchanged- at least in Murakami's interpretation.

I was delighted to see this Daruda at LACMA because it began to give context to Murakami's portriats, which I had been so struck by in Brooklyn months ago yet hadn't began investigating.

Born in Tokyo in 1962, Murakami, often called the Japanese Andy Warhol, is one of the most influential and aclaimed artists to have emerged from Asia in the late 20th Century. He has created a wide ranging body of work that consciously bridges fine art, design, animation, fashion and popular culture.

Trained in the 19th Century Japanese style of Nihonga, which blends Western and Eastern painting styles, Murakami's work examines established dichotomies-- high art and popular culture, East and West, present and past, humor and gravity, skepticism and belief.

With technical virtuosity and insightful critical analysis of contemporary American and Japanese pop cultures, he merges traditional Japanese painting styles and social commentary; the dystopic worlds of Japanese anime and manga cartoons are instilled with a sardonic yet strangely beautiful and utopic timbre. 

These two images exemplify his signature imagery and style. (click to enlarge)

The resulting compositions, saturated with grinning daisys, hyper-sexualized youth, colorful mushrooms and fantastical, blissed-out characters, indeed feel sarcastic in their apparent frivolity. The artist admittedly states about his work, "I paint hopelessness"

Against the backdrop of Murakami's super-charged oeuvre described above, the Daruda portrait series is a welcomed and dramatic diversion. Partly because the portraits so diligently nod to Japanese historical painting, partly because their lyrical style exudes the Zen spirit that Daruda exemplifies, and partly because in the Brooklyn Museum exhibition, the portraits offer us a moment of silence in an otherwise dizzying torrent of color, iconography and dramatic action, the Daruda portraits are truly awesome.

Each portrait in Murakami's Daruda series is rooted in classical Japanese painting tradition. For example, each work is signed in Japanese characters down the side of the canvas, a convention Murakami has never before utilized. Murakami also emplys classically primitive brushwork-- one thick yet sinuous stroke outlines the entire visage of the Zen master. Finally, each portrait is accompanied by a Zen proverb written by Daruda, the quotations further substantiating Murakami's attention to detail and authenticity.

Yet Murakami's renderings are unmistakably his and obviously contemporary. They hint so slightly of his pop characters, perhaps because he mixed an unnatural pink for Daruda's skin- a color that resembles the flesh of a cartoon character. Other unmistakable Murakami-isms are the splashes of hot pink, turquoise, saffron and wasabi green that highlight Daruda's eyeballs, whiskers and eyebrows.

Murakami's affinity for indulging in luxurious materials is also illustrated in these portraits. My favorite of this series is one in which Daruda has been placed against a background of generously applied fine black glitter. In two others, Murakami has chosen gold leaf and platinum, those shiny and elegant surfaces contrasting with the austerity Daruda projects.

In the past decade, Murakami has been elevated to celebrity status in American popular culture, thanks in part to his collaborations with fashion designers Luis Vuitton and marc Jacobs, and hip-hop icon Kanye West. (Murakami created the cover art for Kanye's latest album, "The Graduation")

Yet his Daruda portraits, though highly acclaimed amongst some critics, are so atypical for Murakami that they are probably often overlooked.

So who or what inspired Murakami's Daruda series?

Whether the artist was commissioned by Larry Gagosian (owner of Gagosian Gallery, where the Daruda portrait series premierd) or not, these portraits speak volumes about the artist's attention to and reverance for his ancestral cultural roots, despite his apparent obsession with pop culture.

Undoubtedly, some of his interest, concern and motivation for these and all of his works lie in the concepts of 'utopia' and 'dystopia' , in the comparison of the messages proliferated by the ancient Zen masters and the messages communicated via popular culture today. Certainly, Murakami is studied and experienced enough to suggest that 'utopia' and 'dystopia' are imagined conditions that will never be conceived or actualized independently of each other. His illustrious yet grave and edgy artwork illuminates this suggestion.

"That I may transcend time, that a universe my heart may unfold" -Daruda

encounterpoint

I have recently become somewhat obsessed with Israel. I instinctually sense that in order to even begin to grasp the richness and complexities of that land, I need to place my own two feet in its sands, focus my own eyes on the daily coming and goings of Jews and Arabs living there, taste, smoke, and drink everything the locals do, and sleep underneath that desert sky.

I don't expect to understand, or feel any less devastated about the infamous war after spending time there. But the cells at the core of my body yearn to dive strait into the mysterious land of milk and honey..

I've watched at least 10 Israeli films in the last two months, most of them nothing less than profound and captivating. The cultural uniqueness of Israel has become blaringly obvious to me through watching these films, whose characters are psychologically and emotionally complex, and most importantly, they are RAW. They express themselves-- their feelings, thoughts, emotions and dreams to eachother. The characters are often harsh, aggressive when they need to be- they are also passionate, affectionate and incredibly sensual. They fuck like nothing I've ever seen in an American or even a European film! They spend time cooking and savor their flavors amongst friends and family. I realize I am watching fiction- nonetheless, I sense from these films a culture in which I need to marinate for a while..

Encounterpoint is a documentary- the only documentary I have watched in this 2 month long run of Israeli film mania. It is a mindblowing trip into forgiveness, resilience and hope. The film, created by a team in Brookyln called Justvision, chronicles 8 or 10 people (Jews and Arabs) who have lost a husband, a wife, a child, a sister or a brother, to the conflict. Rather than seeking revenge on the killers, these bereaving individuals band together with "the other" and then together they travel around Israel and the territories to work for peace. "Working for peace" translates like this: A 35 year old Palestinian man drives every day to the West Bank with an Israeli woman in his car- the woman whose son happened to kill his sister. Together they go to the West Bank and talk to Palestinians about the fact that Jews are not inherently bad people. They talk about the fragility and beauty of individual souls.

Another example: An Israeli woman whose son was killed in a suicide bombing, bands together with the mother of the suicide bomber. Together, they travel around Israel to educate about the evil and irrational nature of hatred between Jews and Arabs. They discuss the danger and wrongness of stereotyping.

Let's face it: If these people can find it in their hearts and bodies to step out of their comfort zones, forgive and love eachother, then we all need to think about what we do and don't forgive and love in ourslevs and in others..

The people in the film are unfortunately exceptions. There is immeasurable hate and mistrust amongst Israelis and Palestinians. But this documentary highlights the importance of grassroots efforts and of ART, in communicating about peace efforts, in encouraging and inspiring change.

I am working on bringing in the film and perhaps someone from the justvision team in November 08 to discuss the film as part of a commemmoration for the late Yitzhak Rabin. This film speaks perfectly to the legacy of that peace seeking leader. I am collaborating with two amazing professors, one from DU and one from Metro to produce what I envision as a multi-disciplinary program of the Mizel Museum, Starz, the Denver Film Socity, CU Denver and Metro.

And here I close with the mighty Margaret Meade, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has"

check out Jusvision and encounterpoint: http://www.encounterpoint.com/index.php

keep up the good work..

gaston ugalde

I saw some incredible art last weekend at the International Art Fair in Santa Fe.

The quality and caliber of the art on view was top notch; attempting to absorb all of the visual stimuli was overwhelming. The art ranged from simply beautiful to starkly political, reflecting the duality that is difficult to ignore as a human being on earth today: incredible struggle, strife and degradation coupled with passion,ingenuity,creation and hope. Artists and non-artists alike, we all must continue to look, listen and love deeply.

One artist whose work stopped me in my tracks as I walked through the densely populated exhibit halls of the Santa Fe Visual Arts Center, was Gaston Ugalde of Bolivia.

 

 

Considered one of the most important contemporary Latin American artists, he is most famous for his photography and installation work, which are primarily staged on the "Salar de Uyuni", the largest salt flat in the world. The artist has been using the salar as his own private stage and studio for the past 30 years, staging large scale installations that blow Christo and Jean Claud's earth wrapping projects out of the water. Ugalde's artistry is graceful and elegant, his compositions organic and playful. The vast and empty yet vibrantly lit and colored scenes that he stages and then photographs, are truly sublime. 

The jpegs attached here don't begin to do justice to the C-prints on view at his booth in Santa Fe, but here is his website for better viewing. Actually, the C-prints I saw in Santa Fe are not on his website, but perhaps they will be soon.

http://www.gastonugalde.com/gaston/pages/esp/imagenes.php

 

depARTure presents molten, friday June 6 at Space Gallery!

erotica for all

Sexual love has been tirelessly studied and discussed across all of the humanities and practically every other academic discipline. Given its all-pervasive role in our every day lives, it makes perfect sense that throughout art history and even before artists were called artists, images of sex and all its sister and brother emotions, have dominated the visual lexicon. 

In modern times, the word erotica, stemming from the Greek god of Love, Eros, was ascribed to literature and art dealing with sexual love. Portrayed both explicitly and abstractly, all facets of Eros- passion, lust, agony, ecstasy, obsession and desire continue to be crucial impulses behind the creation of artwork.

The history of Erotica is multi-faceted and variable, and any thorough exploration into the topic must begin with ancient tribes and civilizations of Asia, Greece and Rome, continue into medieval Asia, Europe, and the Americas, Classical and Modern Europe, and finally into all contemporary societies.   The intent and purposes of sexually themed images throughout history and across cultures have ranged from entertaining and amusing royalty and aristocrats, to instructions on attaining orgasm and enlightenment, to auto-biographical tales and fantasies, to political and social commentary.  Importantly, in the history and art history of Europe and America, as trends in society-– democracy, civil rights, feminism, multi-culturalism-- have shifted, so too have trends in sexuality and Erotica.

Why is erotica so universally enthralling?

A sense of mystery and fantasy is stirred in truly erotic (vs pornographic) images. In front of an erotic image, the viewer is seduced and then invited to imagine the moment, or scene, that might follow. The moment in which two lovers can no longer resist each-other, the moment in which fleshy thighs, buttox and breasts become a writhing landscape of divine creation, the moment in which we feel our innate power ignite, our complicated thoughts subside--the moment we give into the universe, our lover and ourselves.

Because the figures characters and symbols of erotic art are most often portrayed in that moment that we all desire and fantasize about, perhaps Erotica allows us to dip in, to meditate on the fantasy of simply letting go, of acceptance of what is, without having to consider the potential complications that may arise afterward. Fortunately for these figures, they are fixed in moments of pre-ecstasy or orgasm, never having to confront the other side.  

The artists and artwork chosen for molten illustrate this notion that Erotica, in its true form as artwork that quietly arouses-- that leaves space in which our imagination can cavort--appeals to most adult viewers, regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation and sexual identity. Some of the artists unapologetically examine and reveal psychological and physical complexities as well as unpleasant moments that often accompany or arise from sex and love:  obsession, addiction, fantasy and shame.  Similarly, many of the artists confront the timeless and often taboo relationship between pornography and art, probing the human tendency to straddle the line between acceptable and taboo sexual behavior, desire and imagery. Other artists in the exhibit more traditionally depict and celebrate the aroused and erotic human form.  All of the artists freely explore their own relationship to erotica in the larger context of their artwork and the art world.  

inside/ out at Denver's object + thought gallery

How many times have you considered that your shirt sleeve is not only a layer that keeps you warm and fashionable but is also a form of shelter for your arm?

   Perhaps we don't each think about our shirt sleeve on this functional level, but for Rebecca Jones-- architect, apparel designer and renaissance woman extraordinaire-- such contemplations -- occupy her thoughts and dreams.