July, 2010

Maria asleep in our hotel room- Ocean City, MD

Today I found out that I’m going to be a contestant on Wheel of Fortune.

The Plague Dogs is an animated film from 1977, directed by Martin Rosen, based on the novel by Richard Adams. These two were also behind another of my favorite films, Watership Down. The Plague Dogs is another “mature” children’s story, as it deals with subject matter usually reserved for more adult tales, such as animal cruelty & experimentation, government cover-ups, adult language, and themes of misery & death. I watched the movie for the first time on Thursday, and already re-watched it today. Apparently the version I’ve been watching is the heavily edited American version, running at about 85 minutes, while the original UK version is 103 minutes. I can’t imagine what had to be cut out, since the version I’ve seen is already extremely dark & disturbing. I can’t seem to get the movie out of my head. There’s such a heavy feeling of hopelessness throughout the film, yet the two main dogs are so innocent & deserving of a happy ending that you’re unable to give up on their story, no matter how bad things get for them as the movie progresses. The animation style is the same as Watership Down, all freehand with no roto-scoping, and the backgrounds consist of masterfully painted landscapes of the English countryside, often depicted as hazy rolling hills or snow-covered cliffs and dells. I don’t want to give much away in regards to the story, but I cannot recommend this movie enough to anyone who appreciates genuinely masterful animation and deeply meaningful storytelling. The animals movements & behavior is so naturalistic that it’s easy to forget the images are all drawn by hand and not traced over actual film footage. Just seek out this movie, through netflix or Amazon or whatever, and if you haven’t already, look for Watership Down also. The Plague Dogs is an immensely beautiful and utterly devastating film, one that I now consider one of my favorites. I’ll be thinking about this one for a long, long time.

I just noticed the back of the 2003 Arkansas quarter & was awestruck by the design, how similar it is to my own compositions. I’m not saying any art with a diamond floating in the center looks just like my paintings, but the whole concept of this hard geometric object floating above a seemingly untouched organic landscape does hold some obvious similarities to my work. I’ve always been interested in the visual contrast of the inorganic, the manufactured, rigid edges, geometric shapes, placed in the context of a natural, rounded, asymmetrical environment.

These contrasting qualities have long inspired me, and I’m repeatedly finding myself trying to depict this struggle of shape through my paintings. I place numerous layers of meaning into my work, sometimes purposefully, oftentimes subconsciously, but the ultimate & most obvious meaning of my work usually comes down to the simple struggle of the square versus the circle, hard versus soft, man versus nature. Quite far from an original concept, but this is just my jumping-off point. For me, what begins as an image of a black rectangular structure invading a pristine mountain valley becomes something far more sinister as I begin to look into the meaning of this black structure. What is it? Where does it come from? Does this scene take place in the world of the real, or just a fantasy world that I’ve created?

As far as the viewer is concerned, just seeing the painting for what it is, a black tower or black diamond floating above some kind of wilderness or barren landscape, is fine. This still elicits some kind of emotional response. The viewer may find the image to be ominous, enticing, mysterious, threatening, beautiful, whatever… No reaction is incorrect. Hopefully whatever emotional response is elicited leads to the natural progression of further inspection, both visually & conceptually. Maybe the viewer asks themselves the same questions I find myself asking. I am in no way trying to push a specific idea with my work, but I definitely have a general narrative that ties all my pieces together, that helps me progress & move forward with each piece. Being a visual artist, I find painting to be the best way for me to communicate these thoughts & concepts, but once the painting is complete and finds itself hanging on a wall somewhere, it has severed itself from me completely, and my language is ultimately challenged and forced to speak for itself. I believe I’m still “mumbling” my paintings, and with each new piece my concept doesn’t necessarily become more clear to me. Every painting becomes another door, another branch, another pathway discovered in a dense black forest. I’m taking every path, doubling back, trying to link this one with that, to draw out a map in order to prevent me from re-tracing my steps. I’m searching for a meaning to all of this, all these things occurring in both my fantasy & my real world, but each new discovery only reveals more questions, and each new question spawns another painting. I’ve yet to run out of questions.

Skeletal tree along a fog-veiled northern section of Skyline Drive, Shenendoah National Park, Virginia.

Hudson River Valley, NY.

This was the view from my window the other day. The Hasidic couple that lives across the street decided they needed some private time away from their kid, so they did what any responsible parent would do. They stuck the kid outside in the air conditioner window cage. Now granted, it wasn’t the hottest of days, and I can only imagine the aggravation of raising a little human being, what with all the shrieking about sore tummies, the monotony of diaper changes & vomit washings, late-night red-eyed comforting over nightmares of closet-monsters, and all the other wonderful child-rearing details included in the package, but this kid’s face definitely conveys pants-shitting fear to me, a look of “Fuck I’m floating above the sidewalk outside the window & I can’t get back inside to Mommy & Daddy!”.

I’ll set aside my misanthropy for just a moment & go out on a limb to call this a possible case of child abuse, or at least neglect.

I’ve been feeling pretty down & uninspired since returning to NYC after my Atlanta excursion. I can barely bring myself to paint. I just read road atlases & fantasize about seeing the city slowly disappear in a rear-view mirror. Tiny excursions out of town only add to my desire to just get the fuck out of here forever. I dream of dusty desert cemeteries with Virgin Mary headstones & jackrabbit groundskeepers, redrock cliffs where bighorn sheep look down at me threateningly, warning me with bluffed charges that I’m a trespasser on their wilderness territory. I really can’t imagine waiting a whole year before I finally leave for my extended roadtrip around the country.
I’m trying to find some kind of inspiration & natural beauty in this city, for now, just to keep me going. Still, I have no idea what I’m doing here.

North Carolina, approaching Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

U.S. 100 Dollar bill hand-painted with acrylic & returned to circulation.

Absolutely terrifying Ingles grocery store semi, North Carolina.

U.S. 50 Dollar bill hand-painted with acrylic & returned to circulation.