...or tries to...

Thursday, September 26, 2013

No Boundaries

It was a busy week.

Last Tuesday was the opening for No Boundaries, at the Art Gallery on the Eissey Campus of Palm Beach State College, curated by artist Karla Walter. South Florida has a community of artists whose work seems a microcosm of life in this part of the state: a divergence of influences, interests, styles and methods. Many of us come from other places, and have come to Florida for different reasons, and have figured out how to both meld and contradict our stories with the strange, maddening, and often beautiful environment we've found here. South Florida is frequently famous countrywide for incidents we would rather not be famous for, but being part of exhibits like No Boundaries always reassures me, because the artists there represent what makes it so interesting here, idiosyncratic, diverse.

Jackie Tufford, Dinner is Served, foreground, and my Red Collection, wall.

Gerbi Tsesarskaia, Porcelain Installation, details

Elayna Toby Singer, Going Within

Giannina Coppiano Dwin

from the video, Little Tail, by Eren Kocabasi

Sibel Kocabasi, detail from Arthur

David Willison, Air Raid Warning

a guest watching Cheryl Maeder's video, Le Mer

Sam Perry, Now and There, video

Thank you to Karla, for composing so beautifully.

Thanks also to Christine Davis, for her lovely article.

No Boundaries
Sept. 17 - Oct. 11, 2013
The Art Gallery at Eissey Campus
Palm Beach State College
3160 PGA Boulevard

Palm Beach Gardens, FL 33410

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Fiber Optics

There's a fiber arcadia at 1310 Gallery in Sailboat Bend. Curated by artist Lisa Rockford, Fiber Optics is truly a trip through the looking glass, the world interpreted by and seen through the eyes of artists obsessed and deeply in love with fiber in all its forms and methods. I am honored and proud to be a part of it, to be included in this unconventional world where the artists, to quote Lisa:

There's my Climb, Cling, and Drift Away

and Preoccupation

Tasha Lewis, (foreground), Purple Branch

Jee Park, (background), Growth, and Maya Schonenberger, (left wall), Magical Garden

Melissa Bush, Home Sweet Home (detail, two of three)

Aurora Molina, Oecophylla smaragdina (weaver ants)

Jesse Harrod, Bush

Regina Jestrow, Umbrella Algae

Kristina Thalin, Web of Foundlings

Georgeta Fondos, Moonlight

Kate Kretz, Heart Center

Roxana Josefina Martinez, Untitled

Karina Pais, Foldables, (detail)

Carlos Alejandro, 90 miles of yarn

Martin Casuso, (wall), Mirrors

Kevin Curry, Housewarming

Karelle Levy, Patch

(installation and performance in the elevator)

Belaxis Buil performing Being Grounded

Eurydice Kamiselli, (wall), Bathers
Martin Casuso, (column), Column-Encased

I beg forgiveness for those I did not get a chance to photograph, opening nights tilt and spin...

Fiber Optics at 1310 Gallery


Monday, September 16, 2013

Turned Around

Sometime in the middle of April, I found I had to. It wasn't a dead end exactly, but a blogging breather. 

I had been trying to do so much all at the same time, and life doesn't work that well that way. Making art, thinking about making art, trying to share it, trying to share in other people's discoveries, in other people's interesting and intricate lives. And worrying about what to share, what not to share, how much that careful balance alters the way life really is. And then having an actual life at the same time one, that requires the third dimension, away from screens. You have to figure out what needs what and when. I should have written about this some time along the way, tell people I was going to spend some time away. But for some reason, every time I sat down in front of that nice white Blogger rectangle, I couldn't make my fingers start. My brain rolled around. Something told me, No. It was very strange.

But there was so much lovely sandwiched in between April and September. I had five shows to get ready for, each asking for it's own kind of work, and two more at the end of the year and the beginning of the next. And one more that came up quickly. And at the same time, I decided to renovate my studio. Lots of IKEA and allen wrenching and stuffed-to-bursting garbage bags and wondering what that thing in the back of the plastic tool drawer was supposed to be. But there were trips to see white peacocks, and a beautiful birthday, and a visit to the mountains. And a lot of work, the good kind, the kind that slows time down a little. 

More to come.

Monday, April 1, 2013


Every time you go to the Arthur R. Marshall Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge, at the northernmost part of the Everglades  there's a very good chance of an alligator meet-and-greet. This is not an every day kind of South Florida encounter, but since there's water everywhere, it's never out of the realm of the possible. I've seen a gator near a swing set, by a stop sign, in a man made pond two minutes from my front door. I've heard the occasional story of an alligator that has gone through a door, a screened one, straight into a suburban kitchen. But this is because of us, because we're here, chewing away at their habitat. Every year, there's less of their home as we build more of our own. They don't want anything to do with us. At least here, at Loxahatchee, there's a kind of mutual understanding.

I did see one yesterday, pointed out by the park rangers, near the cypress swamp. It was so well hidden in the sluice that it looked more like a strip of truck tire.

But the reason I love coming here because of the distances.

I grew up in a place where the sky was pretty small. I don't mean that in a disparaging way. I don't even understand exactly why the skies here are so huge. Maybe it's the kind of clouds. It's not the flatness, my hometown was as flat as it gets. But I didn't understand what big sky meant until my first trip to New Mexico. I hadn't experienced the idea of being able to see where you had been an hour ago, or where you were going to be an hour from then. Growing up, time and space was episodic, each block literally blocked out the next, each yard was its own self-contained stage set. You had to go out on the bay to see what was far away, out of ear shot. Maybe that's why I worked summers on a boat.

I love how the paths here are not just trails, but turn into paint-strokes, 

or white lines pointing out possible futures. This picture reminds me of parts of the Wizard of Oz, my first favorite movie. You knew that the yellow brick road would lead you deeper into the story, but you also knew that it ended at the back of the set, a painting. The path rose up horizontally, narrowing to a point, an illusion. Maybe this one does too.

But if it's not, and you go this way or that, there's a future of possible stories, lined with very red sea grape and bugs and strange white marsh flowers, 

possibly leading to a cypress swamp

where the very tall moss draped trees look black from below and rock side to side and creak with exertion and the preoccupations of birds.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Repetition and Ritual

Opening tomorrow!

I'm part of a new exhibit, Repetition and Ritual, New Sculpture in Fiber, curated by artist Sonya Yong James, in the Fowler Gallery at The Hudgens Center for the Arts, in Georgia. The show concentrates itself on dimensional fiber works that 

"center specifically on the creative act as personal obsession. James states, “Some of the artists deliberately seek out the meditative qualities of repetitive activity to express their ideas, while the repetition found in other artist’s work is an aesthetic result of their process. A prescribed order of assembling, manipulating and presenting materials borders on ceremony for these artists.”

Yes. Exactly.

Red Collection will be there:

and Contagious:

Click here for links to the work of the fascinating artists that I'll be privileged to be showing with.

And a lovely mention in ArtDaily.org!

March 26 - May 25, 2013

6400 Sugarloaf Pkwy Bldg 300
Duluth, Georgia