Jun 16th, 2020 • 9 minute read
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The Weekly Curation: Art as a Moment For Reflection
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As we entered the longer, warmer days of late spring, we all wanted to be outside enjoying the weather. But, those fleeting daydreams of summer travels are now so irrelevant. It is within this 2020 nightmare that we find ourselves, our communities, brought together, but not in the ways we had hoped for. Together, we find ourselves mourning yet another inhumane death of a black American by the hands of those we’ve been told “keep us safe.” We find ourselves coming together in both physical and virtual spaces alike to help amplify the voices among us that are too often drowned out. As Americans we have a collective sense of grief.
In a muddle of emotions, we’ve put together a collection this week with artist and curator Mel Reese to bring together a selection of Art in Res pieces. This is a simple hope to connect via art. Here at Art in Res, we approach art beyond a business proposition. We know art comes with a rich history of addressing our collective human dreams, nightmares, and endless pain. We so often turn to artists to help us interpret human emotions, memories, and the landscape of our modern world.
Above all else, we urge you all to donate to Obama.org’s suggested list of charities and social organizations to support black lives, the Black Lives Matter movement, protests, and bail funds.
Wishing you all health and safety in this painful, unclear time.
Imperfect Patterns
Rebecca’s gorgeous and complex painting Tunnel Vision II’s beauty lies in what we initially perceive to be its faults –– the bleeding reds, the bowing lines, the inconsistent sizes of each checker shape. Each one of these imperfections are purposeful and intentional and stunning. A painting like this reminds us that the beauty in each of us lies in our imperfections, our blemishes, they are what make us uniquely us. It reminds us that even the most perfectly checkered blankets can be placed upon the bumpy, rocky, stick-ridden ground –– staking claim within our favorite park, beneath our favorite tree –– transforming the illusion of perfection into a mold of the twists and turns that comes with our daily life's imperfections. These imperfections are allowed, especially when we look inward and ask ourselves how can we be better, how can we improve? To ask the tough questions of ourselves. Life is filled with imperfection, but we can always strive to be a better version of ourselves, individually and societally.
Rebecca Kaufman’s paintings address the autonomy of perception using the ancient technology of painting to reflect on the addictive visual technologies that we rely so heavily upon today. Rebecca currently lives in East Oakland and works in San Francisco teaching art to kids and adults and volunteering at Root Division, a nonprofit arts organization.
Living, Room
On a hot day, the cool welcoming blues of this Mathew Tucker piece shows an idyllic living room. It’s a perfect place for a peaceful, weekend mid-afternoon. A hint of warm red tones remind us of long hot days and this secret refuge. The living room has a universal feel, a reminder of home and comfort that feels quiet, separate from any outside world. Of safety in retreating back to the familiar. It’s a fantastical place, crafted in the familiar and the mundane. It is the deep breath of relief we feel when we come home, to our familiar and comforting space –– added relief in the summer when that wall of air conditioned air hits us as we walk through the front door and sink onto the couch. These days we are more aware than ever of what it means to be present in our living space. The simmering red undertones reminds us though that always feeling comfortable can be dangerous. Complacency is just as dangerous, as we wait for the sparks of red to boil over. Even in our seemingly safe home sanctuaries, we know the wider world lurks outside, and we always must prepare, educate, and engage.
Mathew was born In Harpenden in Hertfordshire, on the fringes of London where he lived with his sister and parents until the age of two. He was then brought up and educated in Abu Dhabi, Qatar, Bahrain, St. Lucia and England as his family moved around due to the nature of his father's work. These formative years spent traveling have fueled Mathew’s interest in exploring his sense of place, a recurring theme in his work.
Familiar Flesh
In these warming months our bodies, our flesh becomes more exposed as we peel off our cool weather layers. We clammer together in public spaces, soaking in the warming rays of sunshine and community amongst our neighbors. In times of COVID and massive racial unrest in our country, we are once again moved to come together. To feel solidarity for human life –– a seemingly universal right. The human body is present in our minds, in our dreams, and in our darkest fears. Even in a time of human distancing, we feel fear and tragedy thinking of the fragility of our own bodies –– and of bodies of black Americans.
For months, we’ve cringed at the thought of a stranger touching us –– recoiling at the idea of some unknown person’s accidental graze on a crowded Brooklyn street. Intimacy has been reserved only for those we’ve been quarantined with. But now, we want to rise up in the streets, united with strangers, fearing for our bodies, fearing for other’s. Fearing and begging for the intimacy of solidarity with other humans.
Moore’s hauntingly beautiful drawing taps into the simple intimacy of embrace, while simultaneously embodying the overpowering action of touch and solidarity that so symbolically discusses some of our nation’s most charged social issues. This intimate depiction of a simple embrace, a touch, is everyone and each of us. It reminds us of the gravity of what a small yet meaningful action can mean –– to show someone love, support, solidarity –– in a single, simple action.
Artist and critic Jaclyn Conley says about M. Moore’s work, "Above everything else, art is assigned the task of empathy. In her work M. Moore presents individuals not as objects or types but as living things... In a range of essential media Moore manages to enforce and prioritize an individual within the mechanics of representation. The media and the artist are never dominant and we are granted an access that makes possible a unique and genuine exchange between individuals outside of both time and place. These are moments that are beautiful and hard, challenging and hopeful.”
Inside and Out
The winding twists and turns of the architectural spaces within Wassaic bring action to objects we usually view as sedentary. We see buildings as immovable, never morphing, never changing. The cool purples and reds invite us into the painting, inviting us to climb up the linear applications of the paint to then be swept up by the airy, windy whites to then tumble down the active blues. In Zahra’s piece we are reminded of the fragility of that which we think is stable –– encouraged to question that which we are told is unchangeable. It shows us systems being broken down, what we thought was permanent in violent flux. As any good Californian can tell you, the ground we stand on can always move. And nothing we’ve built should be considered stable when built upon the backs of those who suffer most.
Zahra Nazari was born in Hamedan, Iran to a family of architectural enthusiasts. Her brother is an architect and her father frequently brought her to architectural dig sites to admire ancient history and artifacts. Throughout her entire life, she has pursued a career as a visual artist on the foundation of this inspiration from her youth. She left Iran in 2011 in order to pursue her master’s studies in art in the US. She has since traveled the world to take inspiration from architecture in many other cultures. Her large-scale abstracted architectural paintings are formed by ideas about identity, immigration issues, and how globalization is changing our perceptions.
A Setting Sun
Any elementary school child can tell you, red means anger. Red burns. Like a fiery sun, like a simmering campfire, red makes us feel a visceral, deep human emotion. But anger, like old embers, can burn slow and deep. This piece, coated in red, evokes the feeling of a summer sunset. The infinite, bright power of the sun setting on another day. It makes us think of being outdoors, the air cooling, as we look up into a darkening sky. The open sky, seemingly endless, symbolizes the inherent freedom that is supposed to come with just the simple act of existing. Its deep, harsh, gash-like streaks are raw and visceral –– symbolic open wounds of a selective denial of that freedom. Freedom is meant to be for all, equally all-encompassing, and yet the gashes in Gosha’s sunset-like painting remind us that this is not the case for many of our fellow Americans. And as we look at this stunning piece, we feel that familiar, deep in our bones fiery frustration –– that feeling of red.
Gosha Karpowicz grew up in the countryside of Communist Poland and defected to live and paint where freedom of expression thrived. Gosha says about her work, “My paintings explore human, emotional, always multi-layered experience. They are an invitation to pause. In a world where stillness is rare, they rely on the moments of quietude, contemplating the interactions of color fields and the relationships of spaces in between them.”
A Study
“Despite the expressionist handling of paint and the exaggerated features, we can feel the sitter [in Mark’s piece] has a private desire to be understood, not simply recorded.” — Julia Morton, City Arts Magazine
It’s natural to emulate those that we admire. We copy and study the people we find impressive, our heroes, mentors, and close friends. We see this in Mark’s study of Matisse, from the dedicated book cover to the Matisse-like expressive application of paint. It feels both familiar and new, a delicious combination. The white plant-like abstracts in the wallpaper remind us of Matisse’s well known cut-outs and the bold shapes of his work –– iconic images that changed art history.
As we feel overwhelmed by what is happening to us, to black lives, to our country as a whole, we consider Mark’s approach to studying those we most admire. What can we glean from those stronger than us? Those more knowledgeable, those more thoughtful, those turning pain into action. What are our friends doing, our mentors, our favorite teachers? What can we all do to help? Where do we find guidance for our fears, outlets for our anger? Viewing this piece we are inspired to take the time to learn, to study, and to improve ourselves.
Mark Milroy was born in St. Paul, Minnesota and grew up in St. Thomas, Ontario. He lives and works in Brooklyn, NY and has two boys named Emerson and Angus.
Bringing it Together
On curating the collection:
It is important to note for this particular collection that I did not set out to find work that was directly politicized or had an inherent social justice meaning. The beauty and complexity of visual art is that we can find a personal meaning, a meaningful message in what moves us. I chose these pieces because I find them beautiful, successful as independent works of art, as well as believe they work well together visually –– my deeper interpretations come purely from my own self-reflection. What these artworks mean to me certainly don’t have to reflect what they mean for you and it may not even be what the artist themself intended. Therein lies the complexity –– art is always reflecting what we feel at a given moment in time and history.
We encourage you to collect art that speaks to you on all levels of meaning and interpretation, not just beauty alone.
Curated by Mel ReeseZhuzh by Emily Berge
Virtual installations courtesy of ArtPlacer