Solid Ground: Foundation for Art and Politics

Making art is like running for office.  In an academic environment, young artists will pursue certain avenues in their artwork that work well, while others lead to less effective solutions.  They choose different media, different techniques, different content.  Sometimes that change is slow, other times it seems like students are bringing something completely different to each group critique in just a matter of weeks over the course of one semester.  They have constantly changing ideas.  On the surface, it appears that they are scrambling to come up with the next BIG idea, or they're just trying to find something in their art that is satisfying, if only to them alone.  And they come under scrutiny for it.  Art students have to stand in front of their peers and professors and explain these dramatic changes.  They have to defend choices they're making.

Why are you using glaze instead of paint in ceramics?  Why are you consistently making your canvases 5 feet by 5 feet when they could be 5 x 5 inches?  Why did you choose this color over that one?  There's a disconnect between what the work is saying and what you're saying about the work.  Why are there so many different things to look at here?  Why isn't there more?

Some students crush under this kind of pressure, never finding their voice as an artist.  Others thrive, standing up for their decisions as they further refine their technique and increase their ability to articulate their BIG ideas.  This comes to mind when looking at the current political race.  The Republican nominee has a history of creating and identifying with a kind of policy that seems counter to his current platform (while governor of MA he supported gun control, abortion, tackling climate change, and required health care).  Now, running for president, he seems to have reversed his tactic on nearly all of those issues.  It's hard to tell if this is because of circumstances - maybe he has the freedom outside of a liberal state like MA to change and be the politician he wants to be - maybe he is under the influence of the party for which he represents.

Regardless, it seems akin to the group critique situation.  Some artists collapse under the weight of too much advice.  Professors hound them about the thing they should be doing instead of letting them figure it out on their own.  It's hard to blame the teacher for that; sometimes there is only so much time in a semester.  But experience being any kind of judge will tell you that the artist who finally gets a firm grasp on a direction is the one that moves forward.

After watching the RNC keynote speech by Chris Christie last night and comparing that with some of the other speeches of the night, it seems like the folks in the Republican party were explaining why the party is strong (or their own accomplishments were great) but not why Mr. Romney was strong (or great).  They mentioned things like leadership.  Perhaps it is time for Mr. Romney to finish absorbing the input from his party's advisers and start leading it.  If he hopes to become the leader of our country, perhaps he should start by taking a stand within his own party.  To see that kind of firm grounding and steadfast commitment to the platform may in fact change the tide.  Or reveal to the viewers (voters) the kind of art (policy) they don't want to hang on their walls (Oval walls at that) come November.

Etsy, Banksies, Regretsy

The day has come for me try an Etsy shop.  It's been a long time coming, getting an online sales presence.  With this, I hope to make my parent's proud and answer the long asked question, "Where can I buy your stuff when you never live near me?"

I must confess, I'm pretty proud of the first batch of piggies making it into the shop.  I've been working with low fire clay and trying all kinds of different surface techniques.  It's been pretty fun.  And now shoppers can enjoy the fruits of my labors.  If the pickins look slim, don't worry, more are on their way.

So here is the link to the shop:  www.etsy.com/shop/Banksies.  About the title.  Other than sounding ridiculously cute, I'm making a little homage to a British street artist, Banksy.  I really like the "work" of this unknown person who remains faceless to the world (literally if you watch Exit Through the Gift Shop, a highly recommended documentary about the money involved in street art).  Really probing stuff that features social or political satire that is both intelligent and darkly hilarious.  So right up my alley.  Here are a couple of examples.  I love the tongue in cheek humor of it all.  At some point I'd like to get a little more action like this on the p-banks.  The way that I make them right now, there is endless opportunity to try different things.

And I'm thinking about incorporating this pointed stuff with the surface techniques of this guy: Bede Clark.  Bede, who is not faceless, did a workshop with the Kansas City Clay Guild recently.  During that time, he and I shared our enthusiasm for well-worked surfaces.  Bede has been making pots for almost 40 years, but likt most of us, he occasionally deviates to create large earthenware tiles and plates that he paints with oxide washes, stains, slips, and glazes.  The surfaces are always unique and have a warm well-worn texture to them.  These types of surfaces may be a great pairing for those graffiti styles on buildings and walls that street artists like Banksy use for their canvases.

So speaking of Etsy...  Have you heard about Regretsy.com yet?  In my probing questions to friends who have already been using Etsy's platform for years, they turned me on to this alternative site.  It's incredibly non-PC and quite funny in that way.  You'll find absurd posts that link to ACTUAL products sold on Etsy.  Looks like everybody's trying make a little cash these days.  At this point, it is unclear to me if I would want to see one of my piggies end up Regretsy or not.  We shall see.

New Traditions?

I'm not sure how many of you grew up in an upper working class family like I did. It seemed that there was always a night that would come around that was affectionately referred to as "Clean-Out-the-Fridge-Night." This was a magical time when things that had been neglected for who knows how long would make there way to the dinner table. Sometimes it would take the form of a conglomeration of side dishes. Though I didn't know it at the time, this is known in parlance as "tapas" and people pay a lot of money for this kind of experience. Other times it would arrive in the form of one large dish, evenly distributed to the masses. Oliver Twist was familiar with this situation. I think our musical friends from Glee would call it a "mash-up."

Well, I'm happy to say that in my household (of one at the present time), we (the royal "we," that is) have decided to revisit the time-honored tradition once again. However, this time it is received not with a begrudged moan, but with a barbaric yawp!

Feast you eyes on this feast:

One whole onion, diced, sauteed until golden brown

One green pepper, diced (somewhat soggy, but who cares, it's being cooked anyway)

One green onion (because they were a bundle for a buck)

Three plum tomatoes (better use them quick before they become "red" paint on the fridge shelf)

One handful of celery (the parts that weren't soggy from sitting in the fridge for a week)

One handful of green beans (because they were in the bottom of the drawer and until now, no one thought to cook them in anything else)

LOTS of taco seasoning (purchased from a really nice lady in the City Market who probably has some idea how desperately a single male needs to cover up the taste of poorly cooked food)

Shove together in one large fry pan, cook until warm enough, add some rice from a couple of days ago and POOF! one happy bachelor who has just enough fuel in him to go the studio and make more work in one night than he has all week!

Isn't it remarkable how the lingering memories from childhood can come back to you in a instant? I'm thinking that if this Ceramics thing doesn't work out, I'm gonna start edging in on Paula Dean's market. Looks like I better start stocking up on lard.

Eat it, Dutch Still-Life Masters!

In the same way Dutch still-lifers would display the local commerce and decadence of their far-reaching trade economy, the humble author would like to submit to his most gracious readership for approval the kick-ass deal he got today. In no less than twenty exhaustible minutes, battling the elements of cloudless, sunny, eighty-nine degree heat, vicious hordes of voracious fellow consumers, shrewd hard-nosed Art of War-literate local farm-mongers, our hero prevailed with an armful of fresh produce that could satisfy (if not choke to near death) the most unlikely of omnivorous beasts. But the battle was not won without great cost. Our long-suffered, weary gallant adventurer was forced to give up the ghost of nineteen hard-earned American dollars to the great Beast of Capitalism. May their memory never be forgotten. For without their sacrifice, the fate of the dear author would rest in the hands of a dark and ominous plague, the godless disease that knows no creed or code, Starvinium Artistia.

Thankfully the fair reader can take heart in trusting that the fortified Paladin of Produce shall live on! Imagine the bountiful feast that this same being will enjoy for the next half fortnight while dreaming of the coming weekend in which even grander dreams of conquest and plunder might ensue. Oh the hungramity!

Screen House Residency: Making the next move

If you've lived in Florida for very long, you've probably been to a Publix grocery store. They were originally based in Winter Haven, FL (which most of FL is, if you think about it), not far from where my parents live now. I think they are based in Lakeland now, not far from Winter Haven. Anyway, I grew up going to this grocery store. As far as I knew, this was the only grocery store in town. Everyone I knew from school had parents who shopped there. It would take forever for us to get out of the store because Mom or Dad had to catch up with somebody on the street we used to live on, or I was in Cub Scouts with, or my brother was on the soccer team with...

Anyway, our store used to have a mosaic tile mural like this one does. On a recent trip to West Palm Beach, FL, I was shocked to see this old mural, just like the one I saw every week as a kid. It was kind of a little sentimental moment for me. See, the store in my old neighborhood remodeled years ago, so I guess I had grown used to not seeing it for a really long time. Seeing this old school mosaic brought back plenty of memories. Like when I would ride along with the neighbor's kids and we would take glass Coke bottles back for the money and then buy candy with the new stash of cash. Or when my friends and I would hang out there on our bikes because there was nothing else to do in suburban Tampa in the hot summers.

I think one of the most indelible m

emories was when my Mom needed something from the store. I remember she gave me a list of stuff she needed and a little cash. I took off on my bike, backpack in tow. I remember that beyond the silly list of things I had to get, I was entrusted to take off on my own and get that mission done without anyone holding my hand. It was kind of a big deal.

The Screen House Residency is coming to an end. Everything is packed up. I've cleaned out the screen house and said goodbye to all my lizard collaborators. Soon it will be moving into a trailer hitched to the back of my truck. It's time for a new chapter. I've recently accepted an offer to be the new Studio Manager at the Red Star Studios in Kansas City, MO. Somehow, I feel like I'm on that bike again. I feel like I've been given a great task, people are counting on me, and I'm ready to succeed. And just like before, it's kind of a big deal.

Screen House Residency: Libby Carnahan Fellowship at the St Petersburg Clay Co.

The SHR phased into a new opportunity. I was asked by my friend Libby to housesit while she was away in China visiting some friends. So for two weeks I took care of her pets and got a nice work space at the St Petersburg Clay Company, where I had my first artist residency after college. What a wonderful homecoming! I was able to see old friends and reconnect with a few people I hadn't seen in a while. And during the two weeks I cranked out another kiln load of piggy banks. It was nice to spend a little time getting input from the AIRs (Artists in Residence) and talking with the owners, Adam Yungbluth and Matt Schiemann. SPCC has gone through a lot of changes since I was an AIR and it's really cool to see that they have continued to offer residents a solid experience when it comes to post-graduation reality checks. Residents experience a diversified climate: working with non-academic membership, outsider artists from the community, students from St Pete College, Eckard College, and U of South Florida. They also come in contact with pros who have been making pots and sculpture for years. It's a great community and St Pete's art scene has been rated tops among cities its size. Makes a Bay area native proud!

As if making work at a great place with great people wasn't enough, I also set up a solo exhibition in the store front of Highwater Clays of Florida. It's also located in the train station where SPCC is located. I got all kinds of fun reviews and comments of the work that is displayed there. Barbara Ott is the store manager and did an awesome job of making me feel welcome and helping to make the best display possible. If you're in the area, please stop by and check it out. The Train Station is located at 420 22nd St South in St Petersburg.

With the LC Fellowship closed, I returned to the Screen House and got things closed spruced up for a sale at my folks house. They were having a slew of friends from around the lake out to celebrate Memorial Day that weekend. This included a live bluegrass ensemble: a collection of friends who live around town and play at a variety of venues. I think my biggest honor of the evening was having the fiddle player, "Sticky Steve," purchase a few pieces from me that he was going to use as an award from a fishing competition that takes place later in the summer. I'm famous!

Screen House Residency: SunFest

I'm heading down to West Palm Beach for SunFest in an AmTrak train.

OK, now use your imagination...

You're on a train, you don't have to drive, you just have to look out the window. Out the right side of said train: flat-as-a-pancake land. In the distance, small collections of oak trees with tiny little mini palm trees surrounding them (in the industry, we call them palmettos). Out the left side: orange groves. Row after row of sweet delicious citrus (but that's usually in the winter season...). It's beautiful. Brings a tear to the eye.

Now, I must confess: not long ago I was living in a place pretty similar, except you'll need to substitute mini palm trees for...umm...grass. And get rid of those heavenly sugar-delivery systems we call fruit and put in the Backbone of the U S of A...corn.

I'm not saying one is better than the other. I'm just saying I know what I like. And if you could have been on the train, pretending to smell the sweet swamp grasses and orange blossoms instead of the recycled stale air-conditioned air of the train, I tell you, you would agree that Florida Prairie is something to behold.

And don't get me started on the thunderstorms that sweep across land like that. You can see the lightning, but it's too far off to ever hear it. The rain gets to thick you can't see where the horizon stops or starts. (I think I may have gotten myself started, though.) Brings a tear to my eye and song to my breast. Ok, maybe not the song part. In fact, if it were to bring a song to my breast, the only song that seems fitting is "Shenandoah," and that's not even close to Florida. In fact, the one song that's a claim to fame would be "Way Down Yonder on the Swanee River," and unless I've only heard bad renditions of the song, it's not nearly soulful enough.

Can you inherit a song for any time and place?

Oh FL prairie

I long to see you

Away you rolling...swa-amp

Oh FL prairie

I long to see you

Away, I'm bound away

Across the wide

Okeechobee

So maybe it's not the same. But I think if the pioneers had started here instead of Virginia, I bet that song would have been a little different. I betcha they stole the original tune from Ponce de Leon.