Many of my objects are temporary constructs, components assembled and taken apart, pieces used and reused. The larger works find their home in my garden and once there, inevitably fall prey to the elements. I’m bewitched by the transient nature of these experiments, and within the process of their disintegration, coupled with eventual additions, subtractions and simple discardings, are the beginnings of a painting.
Two of the out-door objects found their way back into the studio this week, having endured numerous adjustments, and years of life standing vigilant in the garden. They have earned the right to be considered a paintings equal.
Yayoi Kusama, Self-Obliteration by Dots (detail), 1968, performance, documented with black-and-white photographs by Hal Reif.
I have a thing for spots, more accurately . . . dots. Most recently I attempted to satiate my dot fetish at Damien Hirst’s dot extravaganza at Gagosian Galleries NYC space, and while enveloped by lots and lots of dots, big, small, and all in colors seemingly possible . . . I walked away unsatisfied. Now the good news for us dot aficionados, the Whitney Museum of Art will be exhibiting the work of Yayoi Kusama , July 12 – September 30, 2012. Now in her 80′s Kusama has used the dot in her work for over five decades.
SRAM pArt Project returns! The SRAM pART Project equips a group of selected artists with a box of 100 bike parts. These bike parts are utilized in creating a work of art, which is then put up for auction. All auction proceeds go to the support of World Bicycle Relief (WBR). Readers of It Happens Every Tuesday may remember I was one of the participating artists in the inaugural SRAM pArt Project (raising over 140k for WBR) This summer’s 2012 pART Project, features twenty-four artists residing on Salt Spring Island off the coast of British Columbia. Salt Spring is home to both an accomplished artistic community and a vibrant bike culture. The Salt Spring pART project sculptures are now on view and the on-line auction is open . . .
Many of my objects are temporary constructs, components assembled and taken apart, pieces used and reused. The larger works find their home in my garden and once there, inevitably fall prey to the elements. I’m bewitched by the transient nature of these experiments, and within the process of their disintegration, coupled with eventual additions, subtractions and simple discardings, are the beginnings of a painting.
garden. They have earned the right to be considered a paintings equal.
