REASON: The Bluesman as Entrepreneur
I can see an analogy in the underground arts movements percolating today. The Remodernist artist does not bemoan the obstacles and lack of opportunities faced. Instead with a combination of technology, innovation and drive, the Remodernist artist creates his own opportunities.
An overview of Symbolist Art
Before I found a contemporary guiding philosophy in Remodernism, I recognized in my work shared concerns with the Symbolist painters of the late 1800s-early 1900s.
The spiritual aspects of light, darkness and color. Acceptance of gods, monsters and the grotesque as worthy explorations for art. A mystical sense of purpose. Deep order. Intense emotions. All these elements continue in my work.
Remodernism as a force of integration of all previous eras of modern art supports my continued explorations.
Self taught American visionary
Albert Pinkham Ryder unfortunately did not use sound painting techniques. At the time of their creation his works were described as glowing like jewels, filled with inner light. Most of them now only hint towards their original presence.
Using kerosene and bacon fat as mediums is not advisable. He would glaze over wet paint and then paint back over the glaze. Many of his works have turned black, cracked beyond repair, even slowly slid off their canvas backings.
Hailed as a precursor of modern art, Ryder was one of the few Americans exhibited in the infamous 1913 Armory Show, which introduced new European ideas of art of an incredulous American public.
I was fortunate enough to be exposed to several key Ryder paintings in Washington DC museums while I was growing up. His luminosity haunts my paintings to this day.
I brought two cats to Citywide Studios with me. Oblong was a large gray and black short hair tabby, with an orange tint. Dare was fluffier, orange and white. Both had always been indoor cats all the time I had them, but with the enclosed space of the studio that seemed no longer to be an option. I didn’t want them to live shut off from natural light and any kind of stimulation for all my long hours at work.
So I determined I would live in the studio with my barred security door locked, but my heavy exterior door left propped open. And so it was, for two years, except for a few extreme weather condition days-my front door stayed open to the outside, a crack wide enough for the cats to enter and exit. They loved their new found freedom.
A Journey Through Art indeed.
I’m currently working my way through this. It’s a quick read, just a series of short essays, with some good framing commentary that acknowledges the sorry state of our establishment culture.
It’s written with Paglia’s normal mix of brilliance and BS. Just from scanning through the pictures and knowing what she’s working up to (spoiler: George Lucas is our greatest artist!) I know the later chapters of the book will be hard to swallow. Arranged chronologically, the feeble conceptual stuff comes at the end, and I expect her tainted academic mindset will take over to glorify some crap that fits her sociological agenda.
No matter, at least she is willing to break from the elitist mindset somewhat. It’s a start, a thin end of a wedge we need to hammer home.
Once I have finished the book I’m going to write a full review.
“…by re-introducing the values of the imaginary into the art of his period, he went beyond one of the needs of his time – and ours.”
–from Henrirousseau.net
A prototype for the Remodernist artist. Rousseau cultivated his own idiosyncratic vision into playful and profound statements on reality.
Michele and I were extremely fortunate to see a Rousseau retrospective in Washington DC. We could get right up close to all the works, see the little details and flaws (you can always tell a painter in a museum. They are the ones looking at the paintings from 3 inches away). The paintings were so simple yet powerful.
Michele Bledsoe had the featured image in a recent exhibition review.
An ongoing description of my two years living in an art studio warehouse 2001-2003
The windows of the space were limited. Along the side that faced the street, the storefront windows had been replaced by opaque white glass covered by the heavy metal mesh, which allowed a dull glow but no real illumination. This was fine by me as it was the part of the room I used as living space, so it gave privacy. Unfortunately it was a western exposure, and really baked in the desert afternoon sun.
The only other window was in my half bath in the corner of the room , on the wall that faced the parking lot. It was a small window, about face high, that cranked open-a little bit. It also had bars. Since it was contained in the bathroom it let no light into the main room at all, except a little ambient glow if I left the bathroom door open.
Having this large room with no natural visibility left me with something of a dilemma-as it was not only me that had moved into Citywide Studios.
To Be Continued in Part 8: The Cats
An ongoing description of my two years living in an art studio warehouse 2001-2003
But the events with public attendance were rare. Usually Citywide Studios was only populated by the artists who lived or worked there. The rough neighborhood and the resulting security measures prevented causal visits. It was a place that required effort to get into.
The building occupied the corner of Pierce and 15th Avenue. The parking lot was entered from the Pierce street side. Getting into the lot meant pulling up to a massive barred gate, kept locked at all times. Opening the gate was a strictly manual process-it meant getting out of your vehicle, using keys to open the lock, pushing the gate along its track of rollers, getting back into the car and pulling into the lot, and then hurrying back to roll the gate closed, and locking it.
The parking spaces were literally at our doorsteps. I’d get out of my van 3 steps from my door.
An ongoing description of my two years living in an art studio warehouse 2001-2003
The 2/3 of the room I made my working studio filled many additional functions. On of the primary uses was display space.
For many of the months I lived there, I signed up to be part of the First Friday gallery tour. Buses would come and deliver patrons to tour my studio.
For these events I would clear as much as possible out of the front space ahead of time. I’d mop the cement floor with Spic and Span, and 409 the heck out of the bathroom.
I hung a new exhibit of work every month, originally my own, but in time I expanded to include guest artists as well.
In addition to First Fridays, every spring a weekend arts festival was held called Art Detour. Then I would be open all day Saturday and Sunday as well.
remodernamerica.com 