Sitename

Composition 7, John Rummelhoff

I’m writing a brief post to let everyone know about an coming Red Dot event at Conrad Wilde Gallery in Tucson. Having recently moved into a shiny new space, they were burglarized, losing their electronics and several pieces of artwork. Fortunately some of the art has been returned.

In order to recoup some of the losses, the gallery is holding a benefit sale of donated artworks. If you’d like to donate, you’ll need to visit their website and act quickly: works are due there by 4/23. For those of you nonartists, here’s a great opportunity to purchase art at below market value.

Here are shots of the work John Rummelhoff and I are donating and I hope you’ll join in this effort if you can. It’s more important than ever to support independent galleries that offer interesting programming, promote emerging artists, and are vital participants in their communities.

John Rummelhoff, Composition 8

All the works in the show will be no bigger than 16″ square for 2D; 16 cubic inches for 3D. Composition 7 and 8 are about 6 x 6″.

Study for Relief V, 2009 8.25 x 8.25 x 2

Burnout, 2007. Mixed media.

That’s it. Buy early; buy often. And if the burglars just happen to be reading this, shame on you. I hope you have some sort of conscience and bring everything back to the gallery in good shape this instant. As it says on the website, no questions asked. Everyone just wants their things back.

Sometimes I wish I were Saraswati: not only is she the goddess of art, language and literature, she has lots of arms for multitasking! So much to do, so little time.

Anyway, as promised, I’m posting more of my friend John’s work. This time it’s several amazing pencil drawings, nearly all of which he completed recently. These are small works, most about 3-6″ high.

I’ve also neglected to mention something here in my posts of others’ work, and I need to add a notice on my site: all the images shown are copyright their various owners.

More to come. For now, enjoy these. I should add dimensions at some point.

Nefertiti

Victory Possessed

Noh Robe, Edo Period

Death in Madrid

Matador

Last night I went to two art openings, one of which was mine. The first was for a woman I’d shown with last year. I love her work. It was great to see more of her stuff but I also got a surprise. When I enthusiastically mentioned having been in a show with her, she expressed disappointment about the way her work was displayed there. It was an installation piece that needed to be hung in a very specific way in order to be read correctly–quite literally. And a second work of hers that I’d also loved had been trapped, horizontal, in a vitrine, when it was intended to be hung vertically, freely.

I mention this because over the course of my brief career I’ve found myself feeling like some kind of jerk too many times. I want control over everything having to do with the promotion and presentation of my work, and if I want to get on in the world, I have to work and play well with others.

My first solo exhibition was given an absolutely horrendous name better used for a neurology conference. The PR for it was equally embarrassing. I don’t like the graphic design of most of my show invitations. I don’t like the photos the gallery chooses. Or the writing. On and on and on.

At the same time, I found myself at my opening last night talking to a man about why I’ve decided to move away from narrative as much as possible most of the time. I told him that I was trying to encourage my audience to look deeper, to avoid concern with resemblances and to grasp the spirit of a work, to look within.

So if with my own work, I’m inviting others to value their own experiences and not shove my personal agenda down their throats, why the concern with the most temporary and superficial aspects of the work? Why not be open to others’ curatorial and critical views?

If this is not to be a shared experience, what’s the point of exhibiting at all? Why not just save time and keep all my stuff at home, where I’m not threatened with embarrassment or loss of control?

Maybe it’s time to lighten up a little…

Wish me luck.

Natural Expressions, University of Minnesota

Two mixed media works, 2009

Happy 2010, world. I’m writing this post as a response to an inquiry I got from a nice man and fellow artist who shares an interest in one of my oldest and dearest friend’s art. Here are a few photos of some of John Rummelhoff’s recent work, Aaron, and I can send you some more. I just took a few things when I was visiting yesterday.

For the rest of you, these are fairly recent paintings and mixed-media works by American artist John Rummelhoff, b. 1942, Minneapolis, MN. John’s works are in numerous private collections and museums, including the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C.

ZZTop, acrylic on canvas, 2009

One of the great (and perhaps vexing) things about John is that he works in a variety of styles. This is a recent example of one of his visual puns, which often relate to music. He also has a series of national flags that incorporate similar humor.

Iwo Jima (center) and a series of studies, 2009-2010

These are mixed-media works incorporating acrylic, scrap metal, iron oxide, mulch, concrete, and God knows what else. He’s been doing a considerable number of war-related works in the past several months.

Medic. 2009

Another mixed-media work with iron oxide, copper sulfate, acrylic, scrap metal, and gauze. Here you can definitely see the influence of Alberto Burri, a favorite artist.

There’s lots more. This is about all I have time for today but I plan to build a website for John with his complete bio, CV, etc. His story is fascinating and his skills are amazing. Although I didn’t include any images of his representational work this time (other than ZZtop), I will post some drawings that show his breathtaking drafting skills. John began his career with Louis Meisel, the New York art dealer who coined the word photorealism. Although you’ll find examples of his work in Louis Meisel’s first book of Photorealism, John was omitted from subsequent editions and, sadly, from Meisel’s current 40 Years of Photorealism exhibit. But that’s another story for another day.

Colony, 2009 mixed media

I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time researching art promotion on line lately. Like most aspiring artists, I find this the least enjoyable part of the job and yearn for the day when I can turn the management of my career over to a highly competent, trustworthy professional who also happens to be psychic.

In the meantime, though, I feel like I’m sifting all the time: sifting ideas, trying to clarify my thoughts, taking in new information and leaving behind old ideas that aren’t compelling anymore.

As I mentioned some time ago, I decided to tackle minimalism as part of my art history education after being thoroughly entrenched in the first forty-odd years of the 20th century. It attracted me because I’ve always been so put off by it–the inaccessibility of it reminded me of being on the outside of an inside joke. And in looking–and seeing, I hope– I’ve found some useful things: the power of seriality to create objects or places of meditation and the potency of pure forms are two of them.

I’m still struggling with some very fundamental issues and have no idea how long it’s going to take to get through. One of the things I’ve realized over the past couple of years is that while it’s human nature to sort, classify, identify, and name, every time that someone says, “Oh, your piece looks like (X),” it makes me sigh inside. I’m not interested in narrative and I don’t want to make things that keep people’s thoughts at the surface. That’s what television is for.

And there are two other things of which I am pretty certain, at least for now and probably forever: I believe in making things, and making them to the best of my ability. And I want to make art that people want to really be with.

Guess that’s plenty for now.

When my friend John and I were in Tucson last month for the opening of the High Fiber show at Conrad Wilde, we noticed an amazing leather and steel chair in the window of an adjacent shop. Although the store is not quite open, we were able to get a better look at the chair and learn about its creator, architect Cade Hayes.

In turn, Cade introduced us to the work of his San-Diego based friend, Dominique Houriet. Shortly thereafter, Dominique sent me photos of his chairs.

I feel very fortunate to have been introduced to these men and their work and look forward to seeing more and learning more about Cade’s former employer, Rick Joy architects. Stay tuned; more about them to come!
P.S. You’ll be able to purchase their chairs at San Diego’s Museum of Contemporary Art soon. For more about Dominique, visit http://www.oo-d-a.com/

My friend John–perhaps the most prolific and skilled artist I know–and I went to Tucson to attend the opening of a paper show I’m in at Conrad-Wilde Gallery

Despite it being off season, the opening was well attended by people genuinely interested in art who asked thoughtful questions. Tucson isn’t exactly a contemporary art town from what we saw and heard, but Miles Conrad (who unfortunately was in Boston at an encaustic conference) and his partner Ryan Wilde (who held down the fort and was a terrific host) have a lovely, smart space and gracious helpers. I was honored to be part of this show, which includes work by fourteen artists who work in everything from books to installations. One of the gallery artists in the show called it “the best gallery in Tucson,” and if you’re into contemporary abstract art, I have a feeling she’s right. Didn’t have time to get to see the small-works show at Davis Dominguez but I heard good things about it as well.

We had great accommodations at Catalina Park Inn. Our innkeepers, Mark and Paul, made us feel right at home. They made us delicious, locally flavored breakfasts and even attended my opening. Next time I’m in Tucson, I’ll be at the Catalina!

I took more pictures of cactus than of the gallery, but I did get a few shots.

This is my first-ever blog entry, and I’m not much of a blog follower, so bear with me, gentle reader.

This place is for cataloging ideas, ranting, questioning, and sometimes answering. In addition to working out my ideas about art and keeping bits of stuff together, I’ll probably write some pieces pertinent to Mexican modernist design and decorative arts and whatever else I’m into at the moment.

I’m reading about Donald Judd right now and he’s really growing on me. I never expected to embrace Minimal art because at first glance it seemed so soulless and inaccessible, but when I heard Judd say that figurative painting is dishonest in that it attempts to create the illusion of space, my interest was piqued. There’s nothing dishonest about a work that is intended to be nothing more than what anyone can see. In a time when so much just plain bad painting and sculpture is being produced and sold, and neither content nor craft seems a prerequisite for something to be considered a work of art, Judd’s proclamation is a breath of fresh air. Today, it seems, we have an overabundance of work that appears to have content but is as shallow and meaningless as the culture that produced it.

Minimal art simply is what it is, he said (although “it is what it is where it is” might be more accurate in his view). Furthermore, he noted, minimalist sculpture must be impeccably crafted in order for it to be effective, and so it was. He didn’t feel the need to be confessional, clever, or cynical; he was a methodical, cerebral sculptor who had a terrific eye for color and materials and made his work look effortless.

Someone once told me that art has to be “beautiful”; I’ll tackle that mess some other day and say for now that good art can be so many things, and beautiful is only one of them.