The Nick Cave Shamans sing a colorful language... and I sang along with them at the show opening last night.
Chelsea opens with color and glamour /
It happens that every round of gallery openings in Chelsea has a different flavour. Last night the art world descended on Chelsea district in New York for the opening of almost 50 new art shows and new galleries as well. Perhaps we differ in our opinions on art but what we all agreed on is that it was spectacular, dense with art lovers and illuminated with color.
Tsunami painting and the Irene storm /
Working on a tsunami inspired ink painting and, ironically, drying electric appliances in my Brooklyn studio flooded by the storm Irene.
Chief Seattle's letter to the US Government /
What is it to have, to own something, do you really "have".. your body, your heart, abilities, things, dreams, desires, your family, the ground under your feet? The following is the best poetic prose on having that I have ever come to read: "The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them? "Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people. "We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man, all belong to the same family. "The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father. "The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give to the rivers the kindness you would give any brother. "If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers. "Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth. "This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself. "One thing we know: our god is also your god. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator. "Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is it to say goodbyevto the swift pony and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival. "When the last Red Man has vanished with his wilderness and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left? "We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother's heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children and love it, as God loves us all. "As we are part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you. One thing we know: there is only one God. No man, be he Red Man or White Man, can be apart. We are brothers after all."
Open States – Earthquake, rough cut on the beginning /
Open States - Earthquake, drawing work in progress from mirena rhee on Vimeo.
Rough cut of the making of my latest painting dealing with the disaster in Japan: Open States – Earthquake, 30 x 40 inches, pen and ink on paper. The painting is the first in a series prompted by my dream about an earthquake, a dream I had about 48 hours before the earthquake in Japan struck.
Open States - Earthquake /
Unfinished business - a fragment of my latest yet-to-be-finished painting dealing with the disaster in Japan: Open States - Earthquake, 30 x 40 inches, pen and ink on paper. It will be days before the painting is completed, it is still quite raw. And it will change by the time it is finished. But just like its subject matter - I was anxious to preserve this current crumbling state. The painting is the first in a series prompted by my dream about the Japan earthquake, which I had about 48 hours before it struck.
May is a month of growth in the art business and a number of great artists have shows all over Chelsea. Richard Tuttle's vigorous presence at Pace Gallery with pretty large follies that oozed spirit. Jasper Johns who was in attendance of his show opening at Matthew Marks Gallery in Chelsea and seemed to very much enjoy himself amidst his many works and the crowds, who seemed to enjoy it too.
Today also marks my one year anniversary of living and painting in New York. I don't have much to say but have a lot to paint about it.
Mirror to the flower, one mundane thing and I discover Arvo Part /
Rob List posted a few important thoughts to his blog, one is an interview with coppola, yes, the Coppola. And also his own thoughts on art as a practice, a post titled Market worth on his blog. I am almost done with a drawing destined for San Francisco, ( I think ), and discover that I very much dislike hats and love Arvo Part .
Also, to emphasize the mood of the moment - one of the lyrical pieces of Jackson Pollock, where he really is at home and not fighting the black paint, a calligraphy of sorts:
A few common sense and quantum physics cliches /
More is less, but less isn't more - more lines on the paper don't a better piece make. I discover this first hand and decide to take comfort in the foreign territory of quantum physics, I often feel good in foreign places. I come back to quantum physics by listening to Leonard Susskind of Stanford after I discovered a random fact about certain "work function" - this explains why you get sunburn, and this is the threshold frequency in order to kick an electron out of an atom. I think it's pretty simple to understand that low frequency light like infrared heats you up but it takes high frequency light like ultraviolet to get you skin burned.
There are a few quantum physics cliches I really liked even before understanding what they mean, like Quantum entanglement, destructive interference and the uncertainty principle. The great thing about the latter is that on the scale of people and cars it still exists, it's just too small to be critical. I take great comfort in the fact that things that we really thought are quite obvious, like your speeding ticket, are just assumptions and approximations of certainty.
The abstract thought in physics and abstract thought in art became simultaneously apparent in the West. The Zen monks who designed these gardens in Kyoto, however, were already abstract 5 centuries before. When I sat on the wooden floors contemplating these gardens I came very close to feeling like an atom, a particle:
New Work - the leap of faith into creating a new piece /
Starting a new work is a leap of faith. After the initial decoupling with solid ground, all traditional notions cease to exist. You are in a state somewhere between free fall and zero gravity except the center of the pull is unknown. New work is a trip into the subconscious masquerading as a constructive act. At certain moment you feel like the clock from a Dali painting sliding down a glass surface. Somewhere along the way is a mirror which you eventually smoothly slip through and it marks the boundary of the world of the painting. Until then you travel with an intent to make the painting, beyond the mirror you and the painting travel together. Once through the mirror the old universe no longer exists.
The Seven I's of Why I Paint on Paper by Michael Brennan. A Manifesto of sorts. /
It has been long since I read something that I feel is close to my own practice and how I feel about paper, drawing, my work, the world and my footprint on matter. And here is what Michael says:
"I went to paper after rethinking Thoreau’s Economy and reading about sustainability in From Cradle to Cradle.
I decided to work smaller because we live in an era when dumb things are getting larger (televisions, SUVs, McMansions) and smart things are getting smaller (smart phones, smart cars, smart cards). The generation behind me has been described as “platform agnostic”, meaning they’re willing to watch a cinematic wonder like Lawrence of Arabia on a palm-sized screen. I also prefer the face-to-face engagement that smaller works require—that is the modern interface.
I work exclusively in black and white because I like absolute contrast, and participating in the larger, global tradition of monochromatic painting.
I acknowledge that paper is the perfect surface.
I have come to loathe the wealthy and prefer to make high quality works more cheaply that anyone might afford.
I have become bored with the “grand manner” of painting and its heroic trappings. I felt that my most recent paintings were really drawings masquerading as paintings. Lastly, I’ve always been attracted to simpler, not minimal, more direct means of making art.
I have long maintained that if the artist isn’t surprising himself, he’s most likely not surprising anyone else."
Exquisite Corpse I /
The making of Exquisite Corpse One:
The resulting Exquisite Corpse I work - 4x7 feet, mixed media on paper mounted on board, 2010.
Artists: Anna Efanova, Dilcia Giron, Vera Costa, Mirena Rhee.:
Profound Richard Tuttle /
Quotes from tonight's Richard Tuttle artist talk at Columbia's Miller theater, co-presented by Columbia University Institute for Religion, Culture, & Public Life and Columbia University School of the Arts Visual Arts Program:
"I have had two or three non-art thoughts in my life..."
"Art sustains polarities that cannot be sustained in the (real)world."
"Art accommodates the mystic."
"Art provides the viewer with the experience of reality. Art performs a "blimp". A line becomes a primary thing... Presents itself."
"A miracle belongs to the viewer."
"When you make art you access the back part of the brain(the animalistic part of the brain), and the animalistic gives us relief."
"The relationship between art and the viewer is a relationship more profound than marriage, than parent/child relationship. There is no pain, destruction and a reason for fear."
"Trust your work."
Open Studios - Thank you for your patronage! /
To my patrons and all art lovers visiting Open Studios - Thank you for the inspiration and provocation. The planing of future work will be in part based on feedback I received from you. This is going to be in a way a continuation of our conversation. Thank you for your patronage.
Roxy Paine, no more words /
I invite you to Pen and Ink Drawings Open Studio and Preview Exhibition Party /
I would like to invite you to Pen and Ink Drawings Open studio as part of High Line Open Studios Chelsea 2010 - Oct 15-17, 526 West 26th street, suite 303, Fri 6-9 pm, Sat and Sun 12-6 pm. I will be participating with new pen and ink drawings.
Link to the online invite is here: http://mirenarhee.com/mirena_rhee_invite.jpg
There is going to be an accompanying Exhibition Opening Party for All High Line artists, which will be held at 508 West 26th street, suite 5G, Thurs, Oct 14, 2010 from 6 to 9 p.m. The exhibit will remain open Oct 15-17, 2010, Fri, Sat and Sun from 12 to 6 p.m.
Facebook page for this event: http://www.facebook.com/#!/event.php?eid=124283857625985
I would be happy to see you if you can make any of the days/events. Please, feel free to forward around. There are many other artists participating in the event, all within a few blocks around West 26th street in Chelsea. If you can't make my studio perhaps you can visit theirs: http://www.highlineopenstudios.org/artists.html
Thank you for your support!
Abstract Expressionist New York /
What a stunning exhibit at the MOMA tonight. I am not going to say it was well curated as I am not going to say MOMA is a good museum. It was genius, brilliant, inspiring world class art. I personally rediscovered Pollock and not because I found something new, I found the artist rediscovered himself. That's bravery in art and has very few masters. The paintings loved being together and brought out the best in each other. Just like mass and energy, energy brings more paint and more paint bursts with energy. What an opportunity to be with art, to feel it's power to change.
A Great poem that inspired me /
The Seventh (A hetedik) by Attila József translated by John Bátki
If you set out in this world, better be born seven times. Once, in a house on fire, once, in a freezing flood, once, in a wild madhouse, once, in a field of ripe wheat, once, in an empty cloister, and once among pigs in sty. Six babes crying, not enough: you yourself must be the seventh.
When you must fight to survive, let your enemy see seven. One, away from work on Sunday, one, starting his work on Monday, one, who teaches without payment, one, who learned to swim by drowning, one, who is the seed of a forest, and one, whom wild forefathers protect, but all their tricks are not enough: you yourself must be the seventh.
If you want to find a woman, let seven men go for her. One, who gives heart for words, one, who takes care of himself, one, who claims to be a dreamer, one, who through her skirt can feel her, one, who knows the hooks and snaps, one, who steps upon her scarf: let them buzz like flies around her. You yourself must be the seventh.
If you write and can afford it, let seven men write your poem. One, who builds a marble village, one, who was born in his sleep, one, who charts the sky and knows it, one, whom words call by his name, one, who perfected his soul, one, who dissects living rats. Two are brave and four are wise; You yourself must be the seventh.
And if all went as was written, you will die for seven men. One, who is rocked and suckled, one, who grabs a hard young breast, one, who throws down empty dishes, one, who helps the poor win; one, who worked till he goes to pieces, one, who just stares at the moon. The world will be your tombstone: you yourself must be the seventh.
I love the number seven plus you can find more great poems here: visit http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/590