Let's go studio!

I'm back at work after a little hiatus, and I am feeling inspired by the pictures of Anish Kapoor's work in his studio. I love to see the objects on those makeshift pedestals, along with the technical/diagramatic wall drawings in the background. It really shows how a studio can be sort of like a science lab. In this context, works of art look more like a series of experiments than refined, untouchable objects. I think they are a whole lot easier to relate to.

Images of Eternity at SPACE Gallery in Portland. ME

This show officially ended on December 9th, and I'm taking it down tomorrow. It's been really fun to have my work up in a window that faces the street!

Our future is bright.

Words that try to make sense of what I do.

In addition to writing an artist statement for a catalogue that's going to be published for the 2011 Biennial at the Portland Museum of Art, I also had to answer the following questions:

Notes on process: How would you describe your artistic process? Feel free to discuss any aspect of the making of the work from concept to finish, choice of media and materials, etc.

Notes on content: What is your intent with the work, your hopes for the viewer’s encounter, the meaning or purpose for creating this work? What are your inspirations and influences?

And here is what I wrote:

Before you read this, you should know that I've probably already changed my mind. Changing my mind is one of my favorite things to do.

My work always begins with an idea. Where those ideas come from is up for debate. Do they come from within me, like magical beads of mental perspiration? Or are they actually just reflections of things that already exist in the world around me? I’m unsure. But my artistic process involves much more reading, observing, and plain old life-living than actual making. I notice, I wonder, I reflect, I plan, and then eventually I execute.

My ideas are often inspired by specific objects I encounter in my everyday life – clocks, Post-it notes, belly button lint, disposable coffee cups, colorful pennant flags, those wacky-arm-waving-inflatables you see dancing in the wind at used car dealerships… By employing devices and processes that are ordinary and familiar, I hope to encourage a certain level of understanding and participation.

My artwork primarily takes the form of sculpture, installation and interactive media. It often investigates time and change - the subtle, everyday evidence of time’s passing. Is time cyclical or linear, finite or infinite? How do we identify change? How do we quantify it? To me, time represents an accumulation of moments, an accumulation of ‘now’s. What is the length of now? What is its weight? What does it mean to be ‘here’? There is a subtle distinction between absence and presence. Now and then are one and the same. Our days are numbered by our daily rituals.

I make work that requires further investigation. I attempt to materialize the intangible. I hope to show that we can still find wonder in the world around us.

In honor of earmuffs.

(pictures taken at the Chester Greenwood festival in Farmington, Maine, hometown to the inventor of earmuffs)

The art of words.

Jenny Holzer came to town today to give a lecture and do a projection on the facade of the Portland Museum of Art. She started her lecture by saying something like, "Now I'm going to show you some pictures. Later you can tell me what they mean." She wasn't lying, either. For an artist who works mostly with text, she was a woman of very few words.

People do amazing things.

This guy made his own roller coaster. Read more about it here.

"The principle downside to any zombie attack is that the zombies will never stop coming; the principle downside to life is that you will be never be finished with whatever it is you do."

"Zombies are like the Internet and the media and every conversation we don’t want to have. All of it comes at us endlessly (and thoughtlessly), and — if we surrender — we will be overtaken and absorbed. Yet this war is manageable, if not necessarily winnable. As long we keep deleting whatever’s directly in front of us, we survive. We live to eliminate the zombies of tomorrow. We are able to remain human, at least for the time being. Our enemy is relentless and colossal, but also uncreative and stupid."

"...You can do this, my friend. It’s disenchanting, but it’s not difficult. Keep your finger on the trigger. Continue the termination. Don’t stop believing. Don’t stop deleting. Return your voice mails and nod your agreements. This is the zombies’ world, and we just live in it. But we can live better."

(from a brilliant little NYT article about how modern life is like a zombie movie)

Just a few of the ways that we lie to ourselves.

How To Be Alone