sinks

Sinks graphite on paper 86.5×59.5

Following the lead of Mr. Diebenkorn I decided to make this large drawing. The dimensions of Diebenkorn paintings were often based on the extent of his reach.  And I thought working within the limits of my body would be an interesting experiment. Although the width of this drawing was dictated by the manufacturer, the width in general is not usually limited by one’s body but by the length of the wall on which it hangs. Therefore, I didn’t worry too much about the width, but the height is at my vertical limit which presented new challenges for me.

A favorite painting of mine is Diebenkorn’s  Corner of Studio Sink, and I thought of it more than once while making this drawing.  From the title you can guess that it’s pretty mundane subject matter, just a sink, a shelf, some pipes, a door, a floor, and a mirror. But what he’s able to do spatially in that painting is pretty incredible. Just about every object in the painting is at once flat and 3-dimensional.  When you don’t look at certain objects in the painting directly your brain tells you they have depth. But once you focus your vision on any single object, it flattens out, becoming simply a shape of color. Additionally, Corner of Studio Sink has that signature, rhythmic horizontality and verticality that gives his work such a solid internal structure, allowing the viewer’s eye to travel in rectilinear thrusts. The spacing of objects is also a crucial element in Diebenkorn’s work. Spaces in between objects (and the space between objects and the edge of the canvas) create a subtle tension and charge to his otherwise humdrum scenes. So with this in mind I decided to see what I could do with the two sinks in the drawing room. I think there’s also a tip of the hat to Jim Dine in there, too. The tools he draws sometimes are “ghosted” in a similar way to how I drew the closest faucet.  So a big thanks to both of these gentlemen for the inspiration and guidance on this one!

28 rooms

28 rooms acrylic and graphite on wood panel 42.5×35.5×2

Another piece that is rooted in the process of learning Arabic.

mugs

ridiculous self portrait  pastel on paper 18×24

here nor there pastel on paper 18×24

These are two drawings I did for my Basic Drawing course this semester. The top one was a lot of fun. The assignment was to make a “marble”  bust of ourselves. I decided to toy with this notion of the self-memorial by blowing it up to a massive scale, but then having it defaced by New York subway graffiti artists of the 1970′s within a farmland landscape. Mainly it’s just wacky.

The bottom one has to do with the notion of always “twinned” by your former self. For good or bad.

Ground to Pieces (Lesson 1)

Ground to Pieces (Lesson 1) dimensions of room approx. 10×15 feet, rubble, wood, paper, duct tape

I’m not sure exactly how to categorize this work, but I’ll do my best to describe it. I had been gathering concrete from demolished buildings and asphalt this semester for what I imagined would be a static installation of Arabic text in a large room written in rubble. I hoped that the text would write out a sincere apology to the people that I harmed directly or indirectly while deployed in Iraq. It was important to use the physical language of a destroyed urban environment (chunks of buildings and roads) to write this message as this was the only language I really learned while in Mosul and Tall’afar. But what I would say and how this message might reach the people it was intended for were (and are) two very large obstacles to deal with. I have spent years wrestling with what I might tell these people whose lives and country I took part in altering/up-ending/terrorizing, and I am still at a loss. So I decided that rather than translate words that fail in my own language into a language I don’t even know, my time would be best used by first learning Arabic. My thought is that between these two languages, I might be able to find the right words.

So in a small critique room I poured out my rubble onto the floor, took off my shoes, and spent roughly seven hours pushing around the material into the form of letters of the Arabic alphabet as well as writing the alphabet on paper over and over. It was tiring and a bit painful, but I felt that any tiny bit of suffering was appropriate to what I was doing – a mild form of self-flagellation to help pay for my sins, so to speak. I’m ashamed to admit that I spent eleven months in a country and interacted with its people daily, and I know only bits and pieces of its language. It’s one of those insane realities of war. At the time it seemed that the language of aggression, intimidation, and terror often made other forms of communication seemingly unnecessary and cumbersome, especially when the flow of information was dominantly headed in one direction. I don’t want to get on a political rant here, but it seemed that this form of (mis)communication was the policy of those in charge at the highest level. And it doesn’t take much research on the Iraq War to realize that this way of doing things has cost all of us dearly.

Formal Process Abstractions

FPA #6

FPA #5

FPA #4

FPA #3

FPA #2

FPA #1

 

Here area a few abstractions that I’ve been working on. They’re all acrylic or acrylic and graphite on bristol paper and the largest ones are no more than 10 inches in their longest dimension. The focus here was to create some pieces that were just about a reactive process where each added mark is influenced only by the preceding marks. They don’t reference anything in the real world or any sort of emotional disposition, but are simply formal. I have a lot of fun making these and working with layers. I also found that by not painting or drawing to the edge of the paper, a much more organic composition can be created. What I find a bit curious is that I still felt inclined to make them somewhat rectangular. Not sure why this is. Anyways, I’m sure I’ll be making more of them to further explore this process.

Lid

Lid intaglio 3.5 x 7 (image size) 17.5 x 11 (paper)

Last semester’s etching class allowed me to further concentrate on my experiences in Iraq. The class was geared more towards process and less about getting perfect editions so that we could see how an image evolved on the plate as we worked it. My most recent paintings have been executed in a somewhat similar fashion in that they begin as one thing and become something else. And what results hopefully has just as much to do with a sensibility that I’m trying to get across as the imagery itself. Lately I’ve been giving more thought as to why, exactly why, we feel one way or another when we look at an image. I’ve also started to question whether it’s necessary at all for me to have anything recognizable in the work in order to have a conversation with the viewer. But I’ll have more on that in later posts. Initially this piece was an image of a retransmission base on Sinjar Mountain, but at the end the image became something else entirely. I called it Lid because that’s what came to mind as I worked on the plate. It seemed that as I took chances with the plate, the image informed me that it could be something other than what I was shooting for in the first place. So the image changed and I went with it, but to me it retained the sensibility that I was going for. Anyway, I won’t try to taint anyone else’s interpretation of what it is about to me by explaining further. I think you get the gist. Below are images of how the plate evolved.

NVG&I

NVG&I oil on canvas 20×25