Give yourself an uplifting experience and see this short video about the dwelling of a member of the Gallery – in a unique environment!
In folk tales and stories of most every culture, tricksters appear with their hunger and their sly methods of getting their way and laughing at our surprise, making fun of our solemn certainties about life. When we look into the mirror, we can catch a glimpse of that trickster gazing back at us. We disguise ourselves as coyote, raven, spider, clown, joker, buffalo gal, poet, rabbit, redbird, fox, and then we are tricked by our own selves and tricked by each other.
Carolyn Schneider uses charcoal, pastel, and paint for her portraits of tricksters and tricky situations. Her drawings show tricksters hanging out with each other, maybe having a drink and comparing stories, maybe making us laugh at ourselves, maybe luring us into bad situations that we have to get ourselves out of, maybe just gazing back with a knowing look.
In this exhibition eco-artist Virginia Stearns focuses on a few of the surprising multi-faceted wonders of the natural world.
Working with photographic images, hydrocal, acrylic paint and other mixed media, Stearns looks at symbiotic relationships among living animals including hermit crabs and their anemones and oxpecker birds and their salon services to African grazers.
In a slightly different vein, Stearns has created a large participatory piece called “Male or Female or…?” exploring the variety of sex and gender among humans through the lens of diverse animal sexual reproductive strategies. Participants meet various amazing animals and humans through images on cards as they are invited to place them in a spectrum.
In aa slightly different vein, Stearns has created a large participatory piece called “Male or Female or…?” exploring the variety of sex and gender among humans through the lens of diverse animal sexual reproductive strategies. Participants meet various amazing animals and humans through images on cards as they are invited to place them in a spectrum.
After the 2016 election I reached a high level of overwhelm. I could not sleep. I needed to do something different: step back in order to move forward. I turned towards resilience, art. I recognized the feelings of despair and looked at working from a position of health and beauty, not from immobilizing despair.
I believe in beauty. It feeds me. Art and nature are transformative and sacred to me. In the studio I loose track of time – a rare experience.
I began this series with a major influence: Fra Angelico. Then I immersed myself in Degas, Ross Bleckner, Keltie Ferris, Carrie Moyer and others – all using color. I try to be my own student and an active learner. Being a learner in the face of narrow attitudes makes the world a larger place. It is an antidote to the climate of restriction. This antidote of learning is uplifting, and the process transcends the despair .
I hope people can recognize themselves in my work, and are moved to feel what Joseph Conrad calls the “invincible conviction of solidarity that knits together the loneliness of innumerable hearts…”
To develop the sculpture, I hand-model and carve porcelain. When it is dry enough to hold up—leather-hard–I hollow it out, do more fine detailing, fire it to cone 6, and paint it with oils.
I study my dreams, keep a dream journal, and have read Carl Jung and others on dreams and the unconscious, and participated and led workshops in which the participants explored possible meanings of the imagery and the sequence of events in their dreams. I have gained the understanding that conscious awareness is but a small part of who we are, and that in our deepest core there is an invincible tendency toward wholeness. Visual metaphor is the major mode of dream expression and I learned to respect the sometimes bizarre, often comic images that come apparently out of nowhere in a dream, or in a resting, tranquil state. If I took the time to try to understand the images, they always rewarded me with insight into my feelings and behavior. It was natural to use this language in my clay sculpture.
None of my work comes directly from dreams, but all use that language. I don’t get an idea so much as a picture. It might arise in a moment of reverie, and if I give it time, it might develop. Situations and gestures that are not literally possible may express something I feel and communicate experience. And I may not even realize–at the time–all that the image does express.
I might be thinking I’d like to make a pillowy evening dress, a wedding dress. You know, youth and hope, and a chance to make puffy billows out of clay…Maybe I feel I’d like to make a boat. There’s something about boats…
Right now there’s a picture in my mind of a small boat with a woman in it…She’s facing forward. There’s an overstuffed couch or chair floating beside the boat, maybe upside down…Is she reaching over to hold on to it? Push it away? Or is she just looking forward, maybe unaware of the catastrophe which is sinking the couch. What—or who–is in the boat with her? I come back again and again to the image, and wait. Now I’ve begun work on this one, modeling porcelain clay on a piece of board, and trust that, as it progresses, this strange thing we call the mind will respond to my request with images of what might be there. Something out of nowhere…Flowers of Air.
With thanks to family and friends, who have supported me and given valuable suggestions, and to the late and much lamented Michael Himovitz of Sacramento who first exhibited my work.
August 1, 2018
Rachel Binah: My father used to say, “All colors look he same in the dark.” I have discovered that there is not white or black, except perhaps in our imagination. In this work, I am exploring color in many subtle understated values, in combination with the shadows the structures create. Purple, blues, browns and greys – even the reds and greens in the pieces – appear to be black. Although variations in white are most subtle, they cover the gamut in palest blues, greens, yellows, pinks and oranges. From a distance, our eyes blend the colors which we think are black or white. Looking closer, one can see each color distinctly.
Literally and figuratively, my hand-sewn paper constructions may remind the viewer of current events. Our diversity as a people, and in our politics, is a sign of the great complexity of our current America. In my work, the dark pieces reflect despair created by policies which are cruel and destructive. White pieces represent the potential for hope and a yearning for better, more harmonious resolutions. The constructions are made of water color, and painted color sample paper, fabric, paint, twine, screening and found materials. My process is intuitive. The materials suggest the content. They lead me to create structure out of the chaos.
EDR: would you give us some on the background of your new exhibition “A” My Name is Alice?
As a child growing up in the 1950s I spent many summers at my grandparents home in Brooklyn, though my home was in Philadelphia. I had my Brooklyn friends, who of course I can no longer remember. What I do remember is a ball and alphabet rhyming game we played out on the sidewalk. The game was played by bouncing a ball, one bounce for each word.
In current time, while I am biking or walking I think about teaching, upcoming conversations with people, ideas for art, and I also play this game. With the Alphabet series I want people to see each image and also be immersed in the experience; much like a performance in scope. Some of the images are political, some provocative, and some fun. I like to engage the audience; take the viewer on a journey.
As a college instructor I always give my students a final essay to write with the following topic: “You have unlimited funds and can purchase any work we studied this semester. Which would you choose and why?” This year I am teaching high school students and for the first time 80% of them chose the same image, Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”. They all said this image resonated with them at this time in their lives. When students chose The Scream I started the series.
Some images are a bit more unknown such as “X” for Xanadu (which is a glitzy hotel in Cuba), but all the images are related in some fashion with Trump.
EDR: It is interesting that your last exhibition was on election day, and this series feels like a reflection on the intense months of his presidency.
I am going to donate $25 for each of those images of this series on The Scream sold. The purchaser can chose between Southern Poverty Law Center, the American Civil Liberties Union or National Resources Defense Council.
I also made a lot of alphabet blocks – art for art’s sake. With the blocks scale is important. I enjoy doing them because it is an opportunity to produce 6 intimate paintings at a time. In fact I work on multiple blocks at a time so there is often a visual tie-in because you can turn them to any side. I like to carry something forward to the next show from the previous show. The last show was maps. The blocks are an art practice and the last things I’ve done. I know what I am onto next – my plan is to take those and change them in scale: use the blocks as an spring board for the next show.
The show has a lot of duality and contrast: a childhood game and some fun, somewhat nonsensical phrases with political or social content, a graffiti mural type with provocative content. There also seems to be a duality of past and present in your work. The same as with The Scream: maps, images that contrast with geographic and current event content. Your work could be in many different mediums, not merely that it is mixed media but multi-dimensional and textured.
I am fascinated by patterns and textures. Throughout college the process of creating depth and layers interested me.
EDR: What artists or art works impacted your in your early art life and in current time?
This one is hard to answer- there are so many. Mark Rothko and Morris Louis for color, Jasper Johns, Jackson Pollock, Eva Hesse for “paint”, Marcel Duchamp and John Cage for guts.
Picasso’s “Guernica” used to live at MOMA in New York and was always my first stop whenever I went there. It moved me in so many ways and while I was happy for it to go home to Spain I felt bereft for longer than I expected.
EDR: In your studio, what do you do when you get stuck?
I start something else or move to a different work. I always have a number of things going at the same time. I have a regular studio time 5 days a week from 6-8 am which is not a huge amount of time but there is no “down time” as I make a plan what the first thing will be on the next visit to the studio before leaving each time.
EDR: You work quite a bit as an instructor of Art History. What epochs interest you? What surprises or emerging topics capture your attention?
My favorite course is ancient art history (prehistory to the 13th century) because everything that came after that is built on it. I am a religious person and most of the art created from the beginning of time to the modern age is religious and almost all of the world’s religions came into existence from ancient time. I like to teach this because most people know little or nothing about religions that are not their own. I think that might be our biggest problem in the world today.
EDR: How do you see the intersection of the personal and the political in art?
Art has the power to heal, to change (as in propaganda), and to awaken people. An example, is the morning of 9/11 I was in my studio and heard the entire thing unfold as I listen to the radio news while I’m working. Once I realized what had really happened and how the world would forever be changed, I stopped what I was doing, got a blank canvas and painted my thoughts.