What I Saw This Summer, Part 2: Exhibitions

This post features exhibitions in Boston and Maine, territory I covered in July.

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BOSTON: At the Kingston Gallery I saw the small, deliciously hued and color-banded paintings of Rose Olson, who has a studio just a few blocks from the gallery. Both studio and gallery are in Boston's South End--the Chelsea of Boston. Click here for a previous post about Olson's work, where I talk about the yin and yang of substantial box-panels tethering those luminous veils of color

Rose Olson: Installation wall of the exhibition Ju Ju Summer 4G at Kingston Gallery, Boston

Below: Ju Ju Summer 4G, 2009, acrylic on birch, 12 x 12 x 3 inches; this image courtest of the gallery website

A few doors down at Carroll and Sons, I saw the drawings of Jacqueline Ott. The gallery houses The Boston Drawing Project, a Pierogi-style setup of flat files in a small back room, which features the work of New England-based artists. Joseph Carroll runs both the gallery and the Project. Ott is a painter who also makes meticulously drafted drawings, based on a triangular grid, using a compass and different hardnesses of graphite pencil. While they're mandala like in shape, they engage the eye actively. Click here to see a four-minute video of the artist talking about and making these drawings.

Jacqueline Ott in The Boston Drawing Project space at Carroll and Sons. Ott's drawings are installed just above the flat file. I don't have good individual pics of the work, but you can get a sense of the visual complexity of her graphite-on-paper geometry by clicking onto the aforementioned video

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MAINE: About 20 miles north of Portland is Brunswick, home of the legendary Icon Gallery. Run by Duane Paluska, Icon is located in a small farmhouse-turned-exhibition-space where two floors are given over to art. Here Kate Beck was having her first solo show, Whitespot: Drawings and Paintings. Beck achieves extraordinary lushness and depth from a repeated graphite line. The upper right corner of her blog features a slideshow of the exhibition, so here I'll just show you a few pics, including one of the artist with her work.

The gallery sign

Kate Beck standing in front of her work--the largest piece, and only painting, in the show

One of Beck's large graphite drawings, with a small, rich detail below

Next "What I Saw" installment: Dannielle Tegeder at Priska Juschka Fine Art; the Postcard show at A.I.R. Gallery

What I Saw This Summer, Part 1: Studio Visits with Grace DeGennaro, Richard Bottwin, Sharon Butler

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Three recent paintings and a wall of paper templates in Grace De Gennaro's studio, Brunswick, Maine

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One of the pleasures of being an artist is looking, constantly looking, at art. One of the frustrations of being an artist who blogs is that there's never enough time and space to blog about everything I've seen.

But I do want to show you as much as possible of what I've been seeing this summer, so I'm putting together a few roundup posts under the rubric of "What I Saw This Summer." It's an ongoing project that will encompass studios as far southwest as Dalton, Pennsylvania; as far northeast as Brunswick, Maine; and straight up the Northway all the way to Montreal.

In Part One: Studio Visits we stop in to see Richard Bottwin, Sharon Butler and Grace DeGennaro.
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Richard Bottwin's Studio, Dumbo

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Is Richard Bottwin a painter who works dimensionally, or a sculptor whose planar work is anchored to the wall? Either way, he's doing beautiful and impeccably crafted work that resolves issues of angles and edges, color and form, dimension and surface, solidity and shadow.

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Bottwin's studio is on the fifth floor of an old industrial building in Dumbo. The cramped workspace, filled with a bandsaw and other woodworking equipment, as well as maquettes, sketches and a fully loaded work table, nevertheless makes room for a generous and well-lit viewing wall.

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This is the view of the viewing wall from the entrance to the studio

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Once inside I shot his scuptures from the opposite angle. For instance, the triangular wood-grain shape you see in the foreground, above, reveals itself as the brilliant cadmium-painted sculpture you see below:

Lush and edgy

The woodgrain is a veneer on birch ply. I love the interaction of the laminate grain, like the curly pattern above, against the laminate lines of the plywood, and the smooth lushness of the paint. By the way, see those angles? I don't have the right words, but they're angled and beveled. And they're perfectly joined. Even as someone who has no math or carpentry skills, I can see what a conceptual and constructional feat that is.

Wikipedia, is Dutch for little town in the woods. Things sure have changed since the 17th Century. Over the past few years without anyone (well, OK, me) realizing it, this gritty area of Brooklyn has become the new location for artists, what Williamsburg used to be. Farther out on the L-train line, it's still raggedly urban, a far cry from that bosky Dutch description, but the real estate prices have allowed artists to rent studios and even buy lofts.

Below: You're seeing it here first--planar and fully freestanding

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Sharon Butler's Studio Residency at Pocket Utopia, Bushwick
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Bushwick, according to

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This is where Pocket Utopia lived for a few years. On the last month of its existence in July, Sharon Butler settled in for a studio residency. Butler is a painter, art professor, and author of the blog, Two Coats of Paint. When I arrived she had been filling a series of sketchbooks with collages and graphite drawings. It was all very low tech and hands on, but an effective means of visual thinking. I'm eager to see how this month's work will affect her painting.

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I stood over her shoulder and photographed as she showed me what she'd been up to:

Above: Butler paging through one of her notebooks

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In the four images below: more pages

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Below: You can see some of her raw materials: magazine pages and a copy of The New York Times. I'm hoping she'll post pages from these new sketchbooks as she has done with some others.

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Grace De Gennaro's Studio, Brunswick, Maine

About 20 miles north of Portland you come to Brunswick and what is probably its largest complex, the Fort Andross industrial building. It's an old mill that has evolved into one of those great mixed-use buldings: warehouse, light manufacturing, small businesses, a few medical offices, a restaurant--and artists' studios. Grace DeGennaro's studio is on the second floor, a generously proportioned rectangular space whose far end overlooks the rushing Androscoggin River.
The day I arrived DeGennaro was in the middle of a major work-on-paper project. (I wrote about an earlier body of work, Wellspring.) The series I was seeing in the studio consists of collaged and painted elements on a black ground. DeGennaro works with sacred geometry and elements that tap into the collective unconscious; that black ground creates a kind of mystical space in which the images float.

Two views of DeGennaro's large studio, illuminated this day entirely by the daylight flooding through a wall of windows overlooking the river. I love the simplicity of her plywood-on-sawhorses working setup, though there's a lovely old dining room table, below, which holds her oil paints. The dining table, set along the long axis of the space, has roughly the same proportions, a formal arrangement not unlike DeGennaro's own work

That's DeGennaro contemplating her work, above. Cut paper provides some of the compositional elements

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Above: Bottwin in the hallway that's so ample, he can show his new work.

Marketing Mondays: "Isms" and "Phobias"

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"Feminism changed the way I wrote about art history and what goes into museums, and offered new ways of thinking about exhibitions. It provided possibilities for different readings of art history and a broad social context for individual interpretations."

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--Marcia Tucker, founder of The New Museum and all-around bad girl, in A Short Life of Trouble: Forty Years in the New York Art World

Back when SoHo was the center of the universe, I used to have a buddy who constantly complained about the art world numbers. "Women are getting all the shows," he'd whine, after one exhibition got a couple of reviews. Or, "Artists of color are getting all the attention," when one African-American or Hispanic artist (usually male) would rise to prominence. And yet, when we visited exhibitions together, the numbers remained overwhelmingly in favor of men like himself--what Robert Hughes described sarcastically as "the pale penis people."

Thanks to the efforts of people like Marcia Tucker, Thelma Golden, Judy Chicago, the Guerrilla Girls, and every thinking artist's favorite pale penis person, Jerry Saltz, some things have changed. But not fast enough or big enough for a culture whose residents--that would be us--are supposed to be thinking outside the box. While there's no denying that making a career is difficult for most artists, it's harder still for artists who are not white, male and young. In this post I'd like to hear from you--whoever you are, and however you identify.

And guys, I'm not picking on you. Many of you have your own isms and phobias to deal with.

So here's my Marketing Mondays question today: Do you feel that isms and phobias have made your career progress more difficult? I also have a few specific questions, which you're welcome to pick and choose from--or add to, or disregard.

. Men: Do you make the most of your defacto entitlement to open the doors to others once you're in? As you've matured have you found ageism to be an issue?

. Women: Do you prop the doors open once you're in? Younger women, do you acknowledge that one, maybe two, generations of women artists before you battered those doors so you could walk through somewhat more easily? As you've matured how has ageism added to the load?

. Artists of color and ethnicity: Not that it's to easy to disentangle sexism or ageism or homophobia or xenophobia from racism, but is there a way to quantify which ism has been the most blatant? Has it shifted over the course of your career?

. Lesbian and gay artists: is homophobia a career issue for you? Or are the other isms a bigger issue?

. Curators, dealers and critics: Is it "all about the art" or do you consciously try for inclusivity in your exhibitions and reviews--thereby stretching the definition of what art is, in fact, all about? And have you found your sex or ethnicity or age an issue in your own career?

. Educators: There are more female students in art school, yet more male artists go on to achieve prominence in the art world. Who gets the prizes? The encouragement? The mentoring? Do you address the issue of sexism with your students?

. Students, especially female students: Do you think sexism is no longer an issue?

Anecdotes, opinions, rants and links are welcome. .

Update: Link to The Art Newspaper: America is Changing--But Are its Art Museums? The gist of the article: "You do not have to look at major US art museums for long to realise that most of the senior management is white." Says Johnnetta Cole, director of the National Museum of African Art at the Smithsonian Institution: "There is a moral imperitive for making a workforce diverse.” Read more. . .

Three Walls

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Forrest Myers Wall, photographed from the NYU campus just north of Houston and west of Broadway, above and below

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One day in mid June, on one of those many overcast days we had in the city, I photographed two minimalist walls in Manhattan. The Forrest Myers Wall , recently restored to its original spot at the corner of Houston and Broadway, is clean and new--a literal bright spot on a gray day.

A few blocks away, there's a repainted wall at the corner of Houston and Wooster. I don't remember seeing that black rectangle before. I assume it's a prepared backdrop for an ad, but its proportions are so perfect for the building that it could be art.

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Then a few weeks ago I was in DUMBO for a studio visit with Richard Bottwin ( post to come) and photographed the long gridded mural under the bridge, a community-supported project by an artist named Tattfoo Tan, called NMS-Nature Matching System, which was inspired by the color of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Your ad here? Until then, I love this black wall at the corner of Houston and Wooster

DUMBO is the acronym for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass, a quaint but incredibly noisy area in Brooklyn that looks across to lower Manhattan. This mural is about as down under the overpass as you can get

Above: A closer view, with green-market hues

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Marketing Mondays: Five Queries that Got Dumped (and Why)

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I have a dealer friend who forwards me some of the artists' e-mail inquiries she receives. She does this partly, I think, because she has to share them with someone (you can't make this stuff up), and partly because she knew that eventually they would make their way into a Marketing Mondays post as a cautionary tale.

The dealer deletes all the names, so all I'm seeing is the message. Unfamiliarity with the submission process is painfully evident in these letters, but also it seems that fear (and in one instance, arrogance) got in the way of basic communication. I don't think any dealer is expecting a formal missive, but a short paragraph with a few informative sentences is not an unreasonable expectation. Take a look at five queries that didn't have what it takes:

1) Hello there,
My boyfriend and I are looking to submit artwork (acrylic paintings) and wanted to know if you would be able to provide us with the fees, how long it can be displayed for, insurance, what percent the gallery takes when a piece is sold, rules and regulations ... etc ... of having our art in your gallery, after being reviewed and accepted of course.
Thank you for your time!
Sincerely,
Artist Name and Boyfriend Name w/ URLs
. The dealer was not addressed personally
. The artist included no description of the work and no j-pegs
. The artist did not look at the submission information online
. Says the dealer: "The artist is so clearly inexperienced that I wouldn't consider talking to her because of the work it would take to educate her, or any artist, at this point in their career"

2) Dealer name,
Thanks for the invite, but I'll pass. You actually call this stuff art? You must be desperate to find real talent. By the way, I'm available.
Artist Name
. While the artist did provide a link to his work, no dealer wants to work with a pompous A-hole. Here's what the dealer said: "Who asked for his opinion? The email invite wasn't a request for criticism, it was an invitation. Do I go to his website and say, 'Hey, your art sucks'?"

3) No salutation
I would like to introduce you to my latest work. I paint the colorful souls of dogs! Here's a link to my website. Browse to your hearts content and let me know if you are interested in these joyful spirits captured on canvas. I am currently represented in [artist names five cities]. I am interested in having a gallery in [your city] and this is why I thought of you.
Artist Name
. Not your gallery specifically, just a gallery in your city, any gallery; that makes a dealer feel special. Woof

4) Dear Dealer name,
Attached please find 4 pages of black and white drawings, CV and artist statement. Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Artist Name
. This artist was trying to keep it professional in this physical package, but s/he made the query too short. Say something about your work in less formal terms than an artist statement, at least so the dealer knows you have something to say about it, and at best so that you pique the dealer's interest
. Why was s/he contacting that particular gallery? Dealers like to know you’re familiar with the program, ideally that you've visited the gallery.

.5) Greetings.
No, you don’t know me and yes, I’m a painter. Painting is a joy, a real great vocation and, certainly, a tough way to try to make a living. Yes; I live off it, not a great life but a decorous one. I manage to sell my work every now and then and I’ve even been selling some in the internet. Still, just enough. I write this letter on the very simple assumption that as a professional in the world of art you just might be interested in knowing some different way of painting. I don’t want to burden you with my own opinion of my art work or a bunch of resume data so, how about visiting my site? It won’t cost you, hopefully it won’t bore you and, of course, you are free to log off any time you feel like it. Maybe then you can let me know your opinion and, who knows, perhaps establish a working relationship.
Regards,
Artist Name
. Too much non-useful information, the opposite of #4
. Give the dealers something to make them look!
. It really does help when the dealer knows, or is at least familiar with, the artist. This is why it's so important to visit the gallery regularly and to be familiar with the dealer's program

My point in sharing these e-mails is simply to remind artists to do their homework in selecting galleries to target. When you write, keep it short, informative and professional. Remind yourself that you're writing to another human being with a very busy workday and a huge overhead, not some all-powerful being who is the one and only entity in the universe to hold the keys to your successful future. Include basic information--describe the work with a phrase about it or about why you're involved with that particular theme--and, ideally, an embedded picture (along with a couple of Jpegs). Then if you get turned down, it will be because the work didn't resonate for the dealer, not because you sounded like an idiot. I don't mean you personally, of course.

Still Powerful After All These Years

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Lynda Benglis is a Material Girl, employing mediums to suit her message, whether it's latex, wax, glass, fabric, collage, or video. You might have seen her poured latex floor pieces? Or perhaps her sculptural wax paintings? Or her metal wall sculptures cast from pleated fabric?

Benglis also has a strong political streak, and her early work questioned gender roles. Her video of two women making out, included in The Female Gaze, is tame by today's standards, but back then it was transgressive.

And then there was the giant dildo.

In 1974 a lean and buff Benglis had herself photographed wearing nothing but sunglasses, holding a giant latex phallus between her thighs. The photograph was meant to be part of an Artforum feature on the artist in November that year, but the editor John Coplans (who, excuse me, spent a good portion of his career photographing and exhibiting his own little weenie) and a few of the editors, balked. Benglis and her then dealer, Paula Cooper, placed it as an ad in the same issue. Touche.

Power grab: Lynda Benglis in the November 1974 issue of Artforum

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Benglis's now iconic image was the keystone of a recent show at Susan Inglett Gallery, along with one of Robert Morris, bare chested and wrapped with chains, right. The show, Lynda Benglis/Robert Morris: 1973-1974, examined the two images and the art world's strong reaction to them, especially Benglis's. The two artists were friends, and the thesis of the exhibition is that each artist's transgressions help informed the other's.

We, of course, have 35 years of objectivity in reconsidering these images: He was in chains; she could not be more unfettered.

Robert Morris in a 1974 poster for his exhibition at Castelli-Sonnabend Gallery

I remember the ad when it came out. I was horrified and thrilled at the same time. It was a feminist act. And the issue is still relevant. A man with fake breasts would never have caused the same brouhaha. But a woman with a penis? She was assuming power, baby. And her power was the biggest on the block.

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Letter to the editor: Can you read it?

"It's about time 'Artforum' had an identity crisis. Lynda Benglis has created some problems. She got a lot more than $2000 worth of advertising, tested the limits of 'good taste' and, in my humble opinion, made the strongest feminist statement you've ever printed."

Pages from the Artform article on Benglis. The ad appeared up front; this article by Robert Pincus-Witten was in the "well" where the features are

Read more:
. Press release from Susan Inglett Gallery
. Roberta Smith's July 24 review in the New York Times
See more:
. Benglis's work at the Cheim & Read Gallery

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The Women, Part 2: The Female Gaze: Women Look at Women at Cheim & Read

The Women: Part 1: "Daughters . . ." at Pavel Zoubok

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If I exhaled at Daughters of the Revolution, I was positively breathless at The Female Gaze, so welcome was it to see so much work by women in just two shows in Chelsea at the same time.
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The curatorial conceit at Cheim & Read is to counter the notion of the male gaze by providing a group of works in which "the artist and subject do not relate as 'voyeur' and 'object' but as woman and woman.' " In this beautifully curated show, which spans over a century, 40 female artists--many from their own roster--turn the conventional male gaze inside out. Here there's pleasure in equality versus the longstanding idea of power over passivity.

What you see when you enter, above: a small cut-paper work by Kara Walker, Untitled, 1995 (foreground, under the exhibition title); and Deborah Kass, Double Red Barbara (The Jewish Jackie Series), 1993. The two photographic portraits below are also in this room

Starting chronologically with the sad and shadowed visage of May Prinsep and the confrontational stare of a very butch Mme. Theodore Van Rysselberghe, the exhibition delivers a range of expression and emotion. The bodies are strong and beautiful, or fleshy and imperfect. The sex comes in several different flavors and positions. There's mystery, eroticism, humor, pain. In short, life. The installation delivers these from every angle.

Left: Berenice Abbott, Mme. Theodore Van Rysselberghe, 1926-30, vintage gelatin silver print, 10 x 8 inches; right: Julia Margaret Cameron, May Prinsep (Head of Saint John), 1866, albumen print, 13 x 10 1/2 inches. Both images from the gallery website

Back in the foyer: another view of Kara Walker's silhouette and, over the desk, Mickalene Thomas, A-E-I-O-U and Sometimes Y, 2009, rhinestone, acrylic and enamel on panel, 24 x 20 inches (each); full view below. Both images from the gallery website

The three images below are what you see when you enter the main gallery. The vitrine with a Louise Bourgeois sculpture will orient you as we turn counterclockwise around the room. You can see these and all the works on the gallery's checklist. (These three images are mine; the gallery has many more.)

Sex, sex and sex: Louise Bourgeois, Couple, 2004, fabric and stainless steel, 11 x 28 x 14 1/2 inche, in the vitrine; behind that, Joan Semmel, Flip-Flop, 1971, oil on canvas, 68 x 138 inches .To the right: Lisa Yuskavage (hate it)

Below: Bourgeois's Couple

Above: Bourgeois, Shirin Neshat, Sarah Lucas, Jenny Holzer, Maria Lassnig

Below: Kathe Burkhart, Bourgeois, Marilyn Minter, Katy Grannan, Lucas

In the smaller back gallery, from left: Hannah van Bart, Vanessa Beecroft, Lynda Benglis, Tracey Emin. Image from the gallery website

Below: Capture from Lynda Benglis, Female Sensibility, 1973, video tape loop

With the video to your back, here's another view of the same back gallery: Victoria Civera, Judith Eisler, Beecroft, Ghada Amer. Image from the gallery website

Below: Vanessa Beecroft, Blonde Figure Lying, 2008, water resin coated with beeswax, human hair, 77 x 36 x 10 inches [when I saw this work in Miami it was not as yellow as it appears here; maybe it's an edition and this is a different work?]

Ghada Amer, The Woman Who Failed To Be Shehrazade, 2008, acrylic, embroidery and gel medium on canvas, 62 x 68 inches

With Beecroft and Amer in the distance, we have now entered a third gallery looking at work by Ellen Gallagher, Hellen van Meene, and a large nude by—surprise—a young Joan Mitchell. Who knew this master of the lyrical mass painted such forthright figures early in her career? Image from the gallery website

Above: Gallagher, van Meene, Mitchell. Image from the gallery website

Below: Ellen Gallagher, Bouffant Pride, 2003, handmade collage, cutout, painting and photogravure on rag paper, 13.5 x 10.5 inches

Moving around the gallery we see a painting by Alice Neel similar in size to the Mitchell. Between them are photographs by Zoe Leonard (also below) and Catherine Opie.

Joan Mitchell (1925-1992), Untitled, circa 1945, oil on canvas, 54 x 35.75 inches; Alice Neel, (1990-1894), Olivia, 1975, oil on canvas, 54 x 34 inches. Image from the gallery website

From the third gallery looking back into the main space, with the Bourgeois vitrine to orient you. On the wall: Zoe Leonard, Untitled, 1988-90, gelatin silver prints, 6 x 9 inches each

The Female Gaze , is up through September 19 at Cheim & Read, 547 W. 25th. Go gaze.

If you can't make it to New York between now and then, the gallery website contains great installation shots, some of which I pulled and posted here (with attribution) and an image of every work in the show. My blog buddy Steven Alexander has written about the show, too.

Update 8.19. 09: James Kalm's video report on You Tube

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Marketing Mondays: What's In A Name?

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Janet Filomeno, The Sea Has Veins: The Delaware Series, No. 22, 2009, graphite, aluminum paint, mica powder, oil and acrylic on canvas, 36 x 60 inches

I don't subscribe to the idea that the art must speak entirely for itself. While I don't expect the artist to spoonfeed me her meaning and intent, I do like it when she provides me with a path to her work. Then I'll depend on my own eyes and perceptions to find a way in.

As you might guess, then, I'm not a fan of Untitled as a title (though I have "untitled" plenty of work in the past). Since I work in series, I typically have one title that is repeated numerically. I think a lot about what to call a series, because once the first work is named, there's no turning back. It's going to continue for the duration.

Sometimes the title is clearly suggestive of the work, as with my series, Silk Road. I was painting small color fields, engaging grainy bits of pigment to energize the surface. Then I switched from

Joanne Mattera, Silk Road 117, 2009, encaustic on panel, 12 x 12 inches

a soft brush to one with a harder bristle to create a subtle vertical and horizontal grid. By the time I'd completed four of five paintings, each with a slight sheen and an almost textile-like grain, I had my title: Silk Road. I added "Road" because I wanted to convey that the series should take you on a visual journey from one small color field to the next.

Other times, as with Vicolo, I want you to ask, "What does the title mean?" That gives me a way to engage you. I also provide a statement, so that if I'm not available, you still have a path to the work. But enough about me.

By far the most poetic and mysterious title I have come across lately is The Sea Has Veins, a series by the Pennsylvania-based painter Janet Filomeno, who works in an abstract expressionist idiom (images top and below). Janet's process is physical; she wrests every rivulet and drip out of the paint in service to an almost biological composition. She happens to be my friend, so I asked her to talk to me a bit about where this particular title came from and, in general, how she names her work.

"The titles evolve from metaphorical thinking. Water, fluidity, the organic essence of life, its physicality, all of its many associations are so rich," says Janet. "The Sea Has Veins: The Delaware Series came quite naturally to me as I was influenced by the river that I see daily. I jotted it down about a year before the series came into full fruition, knowing that it would become the title for the series."

I love that the work flowing inside her studio and the river flowing outside it ran together in a single current of image and reality. Typically, though, the title is less physically present. "Usually it pops into my mind as I work on the pieces, or when I am in deep thought about the work. It is my response to the work," she says.

"If one [work] gets edited out for whatever reason (usually edification on my part), I do not re-configure the numerical order. It had its purpose and brought me to the next one."
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Janet Filomeno, The Sea Has Veins: The Delaware Series, No. 5, 2007-08, graphite, aluminum paint, mica powder, acrylic on canvas; 80 x 68 inches.

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How do you deal with titles? Are you a fan of the "untitled" or is naming important? Do you feel it's your responsiblity to provide the viewer with a path to your work, or do you feel your work can speak for itself? And, because this post is part of the Marketing Mondays series, do you think the title is an important aspect to presenting your work to the world?

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Never Land

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OK, I know I said this blog would be a Michael Jackson-free zone, but two items have changed my mind. So just this once I'm breaking my own rule:

1. What MJ might have looked like if he hadn't had surgery, left (image via the Internet)

2. Hitler finds out Michael Jackson has died. Author is "stubod2001." Link comes via Zack Peabody's post on FB. (Hitler is played by Bruno Ganz, one of my favorite actors.)

Tomorrow it's back to business as usual: Marketing Mondays.