Category: Art

  • If Art is Made And No One Sees It, Is It Art?

    Today, I took the kid over to the Museum of Modern Art. This was our second time there, and I let her lead the way. Explore what she wanted, ask whatever questions, and just let her discover what she liked.

    What really set her on fire today was the Henri Matisse Cut-Outs. At first, she just liked the colors and the shapes, but when I read the description of the work provided by the museum, she quickly made the connection that she too cuts out construction paper and makes pictures! She decided that she needed to sketch these cut-outs so she could try it at home.

    It was pretty busy today, so we found a bench in the adjacent gallery so she could draw in her sketchpad. The gallery we were in was displaying films and photographs of artists who were documenting their different cities that they lived in during the late 60’s and early 70’s. This I found interesting and inspiring as it seemed like something I should be doing, and could be doing as well. (Maybe I am doing it?) But I came to a question; Were they documenting for themselves or for an audience?

    You can make all of these things, follow these creative endeavors, but at the end of the day, do you need someone to share it with? Does expression need to have an audience to be expressed to? My uncle, who was an artist, would have said no, that art doesn’t need a witness. He would say art is a process, and not explicitly a product.

    Maybe he was right. Maybe the work is the thing.

  • Overhead Projector: I Miss My Friends

    It’s Thursday morning, which means all of the building’s supers are putting the trash out. I know this because when I walk the dog on Thursday mornings, I try to make sure the dog doesn’t root in the trash bags, or pee on them. In a very voyeuristic sense, it’s interesting to see the boxes that are being thrown out, which give a glimpse of the lives in that building. Boxes for huge TVs and strollers, and frozen microwave dinners. Some days there is a well-worn out couch on the sidewalk, or a mangled bed frame which makes you wonder what happened there.

    Today, I saw an object that I hadn’t seen in a very long time; an overhead projector. For most people, I think their interaction with overhead projectors comes from school and college, teachers presenting information, or writing math equations. The dim classroom, and the hum of the fan from the projector was such a potent sleeping pill in high school, lulling me to a nice, lite nap in class.

    But, when I saw that overhead projector this morning, it reminded me of all my puppeteer friends who I have not seen in almost three years. You see, an overhead projector is a very powerful tool in many of the puppet shows I have worked on. It can be used not only for projecting images across a stage, but a light source for shadow puppets. I have learned how to switch out lamps in these projectors, and how to use the focus control as an effect, as well as using a water bowl to create a waves over a stage. The hours I have spent, hunched over with friends, working with these projectors.

    It made me miss my friends. I miss my creative, funny, silly, open, supportive friends.

  • Personal Review: New Yorker Profile on Nicole Eisenman

    Do you know who Nicole Eisenman is? I didn’t until this weekend. I got another gift of a Sunday, and was able to do an hour of uninterrupted reading on the couch while listening to music. I chose to make my way through the March 1st issue of The New Yorker, and landed on a profile on the artist/painter/sculptor Nicole Eisenman. I do give a great deal of credit to the article’s writer, Ian Parker, for doing a great job of making visual art come to life through the written word. Not an easy task.

    There are many great parts to the piece, sharing how Eisenman works, and has survived and flourished as an artists in NYC. One part of the article that really struck me was Nicole speaking about how in college, after she came out to her parents, her father, who is a psychiatrist and believed that being gay was a mental disease, would write her long letters trying to dissuade her from being a lesbian, to “save her.” It struck as so depressing and heartbreaking. Her parents not accepting her for who she is bad enough, but to think when she would receive mail from her dad, it was just a dense letter to say how awful she was. I can’t imagine what that does to one’s self esteem, and how hard it must have been to move past that.

    The other thing that struck me about Nicole Eisenman, was how she moved between different forms of expression. Painting is clearly her main focus, but she is also a sculptor. Then if you pay attention and read between the lines, you learn that she was a DJ for a good bit of time, and blogged, and Nicole refers to many cartoons she has drawn in sketchbooks. She struck me as a person who is continually looking for ways to express, and share, and try new ideas. I admire her ability to stay in creative motion, which now I feel bad that I didn’t know of her before.