Random stuff I saw in NYC – part III

More from Chelsea galleries …

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Deborah Zlotsky: It happened, but not to you
Kathryn Markel Fine Arts, 529 W. 20th St., New York

I loved these bold geometric paintings with their strange, ambiguous perspective. The artist keeps them from looking too pretty or perfect with deliberate application of drips, blobs and splotches. I like the fact that she varies her bright, demanding color schemes with one or two that have a quieter feel. Her artist’s statement:

“It happened, but not to you” fuses the ambiguity of what has happened with imagining what might happen: navigating the rich interstices between the past, the present and the future.  When I begin a work, I start with something both incidental and familiar — a few colors or shapes, a memory of a tangled pile of laundry or the movement of sunlight through my grandmother’s apartment. Responding to relationships and discovering unanticipated proximities fuel my actions: correcting, repairing, adjusting, and connecting parts in a responsive process of accumulation and revision. Accidents repeatedly redirect me, blurring my understanding of the differences between accident and intention, memory and history. The rhythm of my process is to continually rupture the interactions between the forms until the work reveals this oscillation and a unique situation emerges. I think of my paintings as chronotopes or palimpsests, conflating time and space within the compression of the canvas. Such confusion is an ordinary, human experience, especially when memories surface and coincide with the unfolding present. Eventually, the mutability of things slipping out of balance creates anomalies in the structures. These shifts and accumulations become a way for me to respond to the necessity of change, and the beauty and complexity of living. As I work, my process both brings me closer to and gives me distance from the friction between intention and coincidence, subtle forces that cause things to happen, which, in turn, shape my understanding of being in the world.

You can see an electronic catalog of Zlotsky’s exhibition here.

Adams-Chelsea2-02Deborah Zlotsky, Sonetto, 48 x 48 inches, oil on canvas
Adams-Chelsea2-03Deborah Zlotsky, A Tricky Subject, 48 x 48 inches, oil on canvas
Adams-Chelsea2-04Deborah Zlotsky, A Tricky Subject, detail

 

Deborah Butterfield: New Sculpture
Danese / Corey, 511 W. 22nd St., New York

Deborah Butterfield has been making sculptures of horses since the 1970s. Her earliest creations were made using mud, clay and sticks, before she moved on to using scrap metal in 1979. These life-size sculptures look very much like wood, but they are actually cast bronze. She carefully, intuitively, selects the branches and sticks which are used to ‘draw’ her horses. The lines of the branches do not simply outline the forms of horses, they create contours through an accumulation of simple or energetic lines that seem to build up from within. This is three-dimensional gesture drawing, and the result is both skeletal and muscular. These models or ‘ghosts’ (as the artist refers to them) are then cast, burning the wood away with molten bronze, creating one, unique sculpture to which she then methodically, expertly applies her patina (from the gallery press release).” 

Adams-Chelsea2-05Foreground: Deborah Butterfield, Whitebark, 86.75 x 108 x 25 inches, unique cast bronze with patina

 

Adams-Chelsea2-06Deborah Butterfield, Silver Star, 89 x 112 x 46 inches, unique cast bronze with patina

 

Adams-Chelsea2-07Deborah Butterfield, Otter, 91.25 x 117 x 33 inches, unique cast bronze with patina

Mary Ellen Bartley: Paperbacks
Yancey Richardson, 525 W. 22nd St., New York

Adams-Chelsea2-08Mary Ellen Bartley, Untitled 56

 

Random things of interest


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October 6th, 2014|Art|Comments Off on Random stuff I saw in NYC – part III

New work – Tracings series

Adams-Tracings-6-11-Tracings No. VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, and XI. Each 60 x 22 inches.  ©2014
Stitched textile, acrylic paint, found papers.

 

So, I am still alive, and I am still making art, for anyone who might still be reading my blog after all this time. Among many things going on in both life in general and in the studio in particular, I finally have some new finished work to talk about.

About a year ago, I was invited to have a small solo exhibition at Visions Art Museum in San Diego. Naturally I was honored and excited, especially since there would be lots of time to make some new work for this show. But as usual, things got very busy, and August 2014 seemed like such a long way off and all, so…

Fast forward to mid June, and there is a voice mail from the gallery wanting to know more details about what I would be submitting. Still thinking I’m totally OK with the time frame, I call them and tell them what I’m planning. Six narrow vertical pieces to fit the designated space. Then, I find out they need photos of the finished work by July 15 to put into a brochure they’re going to print. Gulp! I had some other deadlines I was working under, and this was going to be a huge challenge. This was probably the one time in my life where I was pretty sure I was not going to be able to make a deadline. It was a terrible feeling. They would cancel my show and it would be the end of my art career.

The next few weeks were a roller coaster of emotion – on the one hand, total happiness and well-being during the process of making. On the other hand, fear and despair over how things were coming out. I should not be surprised at this by now; it’s as familiar as an old friend – the feeling midway through that what I’m making is utter crap and I suck, etc. Which is always followed by the “hey, maybe this isn’t SO bad…” leading to “OK, now I think I kind of like this…” as I keep working on it. The key is to keep going, no matter what. Work it through.

Here we see the total crap phase:

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For whatever reason, it doesn’t look nearly as bad in the photo as it did up close and personal. And increasing the feelings of self doubt was the fact that I’d decided to do something I hadn’t tried before, which is a melding of two techniques that I’ve worked with independently in the past (process details here and here). I had NO idea if I was going to be able to make this work, which now that I think of it, was a really stupid idea.

Long story short, I did get the work done, and in the shortest amount of time it’s ever taken me to do one piece, let alone six. And that includes having my sewing machine break down and buying a new one (more on that later) plus hand-stitching all the faced bindings and sleeves. Perhaps I work best under pressure, but hey, let’s give ourselves a little more breathing room next time, OK?

The challenge was to make the paper areas blend with the backgrounds and not just look plopped on. You can let me know if you think I was successful or not.

Adams-Tracings06-Tracings No. VI, 60 x 22 inches. ©2014

 

Adams-Tracings06-detail-1-Tracings No. VI, detail
Adams-Tracings07-detail-1-Tracings No. VII, detail

 

Adams-Tracings11-detail-1-Tracings No. IX, detail

And finally, the biggest challenge: Writing an artist’s statement. There are a lot of things that go through my mind as I’m working, and I have trouble distilling all of this into something that makes sense and also relates when viewed along with the work at hand. In many ways, my work is about everything and nothing simultaneously. Here’s what I came up with:

What does it mean to be human? Are we here as part of some grand design, put here on Earth by a benevolent creator? Or are we just the result of a random series of events involving tiny particles of space dust and electricity?

As human beings have evolved, we have developed various systems to help us make sense of our world. Language, mathematics, science, physics, artwork, music, philosophy, religion and more help us to understand, record, and communicate the lived experience of being human. And as we go through our lives, we feel compelled to leave traces of our existence, from the simplest hand-drawn markings on wood or stone to the most complex technological creations. We want someone else to know, “I was here.”

 

July 25th, 2014|Art, Exhibitions|22 Comments

I am excellent!

TheProperMeansInvestigatingTruththe proper means of investigating truth, approx. 40 x 108 inches    ©2014 Deidre Adams
found papers, dressmaker’s pattern tissue, thread

Does my post title sound obnoxious? I’m working on getting better at horn-tooting, but there’s a fine line between believing in yourself and beating people over the head with it.

Last October, I wrote about some new work that I started during my residency at the Vermont Studio Center (here). I’ve continued to work on these, and when the call for entries for Form, Not Function came up this year, I decided I was ready to release some of it out into the world. Fortunately, they agreed, and the work was accepted into the show.

Yes, I know you’re supposed to make the work only for yourself and not care what anyone thinks. In fact, that is how I felt when I was making these. But on the other hand, I really don’t want to make my work in a vacuum. And this work is so different for me, and for anyone who’s familiar with my work, that I wasn’t sure how it was going to be received.

So it certainly was a pleasant surprise to be notified that I had received an award at the exhibition — the Award of Excellence in Memory of Textile Artist Alma Lesch, presented by DELvelopment Foundation. I found out from a lovely voice mail message, which also said that the piece had been the subject of a lot of discussion. I can’t imagine anything nicer to hear about one’s work. So yay!

TheProperMeansInvestigatingTruth-det1

the proper means of investigating truth, detail

 

May 12th, 2014|Art, Exhibitions|17 Comments