Ann Hamilton, "stylus (hand)," 2010. Courtesy the artist and The Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts.

In this week’s roundup, Cindy Sherman gets elected, The Global African project presents work by Mark Bradford, Yinka Shonibari MBE, and Fred Wilson, and more.

W.C. Rice, "Cross Garden," Prattville, AL. Image courtesy of and copyright: http://www.deepfriedkudzu.com/

In 1974, the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis launched the exhibition Naives and Visionaries, showcasing nine artists whose work manifested itself through artistic environments, both secretive and public. Martin Friedman guest curated the show with Gregg Blasdel who, six years earlier, sounded the wake-up call to this genre of art in his October 1968 Art in America article “The Grass-Roots Artist.”  While Americans had long witnessed the idiosyncratic creative expressions of art along the highways and back roads of the United States, for the most part, anyone who publicly stepped outside of the accepted neighborhood norm was dismissed as “oddballs or eccentrics.”

We’ve come a long way since then. Then again, we haven’t. Two steps forward and one step back will move one along, but it is slow-going. Even today, many cities in America have neighborhood building codes designed to squash the eccentric individualist for something as benign as the “wrong” color on his or her house.

Still, it is the courage of such nonconformists, with their fearless individualism and occasional obstinate behavior, who give us ordinary homeowners a bit more backbone to color outside the lines.

Continue reading »

Neil Young. "Neil Young," (Reprise Records, 1968). From the writer's collection.

It was the United States of America in the cold late spring of 1967, and … all that seemed clear was that at some point we had aborted ourselves and butchered the job, and because nothing else seemed so relevant I decided to go to San Francisco. San Francisco was where the social hemorrhaging was showing up. San Francisco was where the missing children were gathering and calling themselves “hippies.”

―Joan Didion, “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” (1967)

Something monumental happened before I arrived, I knew that it had. Growing up in the late 1970s and ’80s in Northern California, I searched for clues to the past in my father’s record collection. I studied Neil Young and Buffalo Springfield album covers, committed the lyrics to Helplessly Hoping to memory, and decided I liked paisley. At 16, I hung the album cover to Neil Young on my wall. The singer’s face is rendered in watery peach, his hair streaked with purple. Behind him, golden hills tinted with pink billow like clouds. I didn’t understand what it meant ― LSD? Something to do with the Merry Pranksters? Communes? ― but I felt closer to the mystery by claiming the image.

The legacy of the 1960s and ’70s hangs in the Northern California air like smoke from a stick of Nagchampa. While the ideas and activism of those decades may have subsided, the imagery and laid-back sensibility remain. Recent years have seen a particular resurgence, as many Bay Area artists have embraced a quasi-mystical primitive aesthetic (see David Wilson’s Sun Ceremony) that harks back to this earlier era.

Continue reading »

Last month, Eyebeam Art + Technology Center in New York turned their main exhibition space into X-Lab, a “living” work space where the public can interact with Eyebeam’s fellows and artists-in-residence, learn about their processes, and follow the development of their projects. Among this group of artist-technophiles are resident Stefani Bardin and fellow Jon Cohrs, who are cooking up two innovative, albeit unappetizing, food projects, and making some interesting discoveries along the way.

Stefani Bardin: M2A™: The Fantastic Voyage

M2A™ Diagram. Courtesy the artist.

Bardin’s project for Eyebeam, M2A™: The Fantastic Voyage, takes viewers on a journey through the human digestive system by way of the M2A™ and the SmartPill. A quick Google search on these “creative” tools led me to texts about chronic constipation and gastrointestinal bleeding. Oh dear. Gastroenterology, the branch of medicine concerned with diseases of the stomach, intestines and associated organs, uses both devices. As Bardin explained it, the M2A™ (pictured above) is a hard capsule pill endoscope that, after being swallowed, takes pictures of what it sees in the GI tract. The SmartPill is softer and records pressure, pH levels, and temperature. The data is transmitted to a receiver worn by the patient, which is then uploaded to proprietary software and translated into graphic reports. Both pills are naturally excreted from the body. Strangely, neither device has been used to study how different foods affect the human body. Not until now, anyway. After five years of searching for a licensed physician to work with her, Bardin finally found a partner in Dr. Braden Kuo, a gastroenterologist with Harvard Medical School. Kuo will work together with Bardin as he leads the first ever clinical study to use the M2A™ and SmartPill to look at how the human body responds to processed versus whole foods. Bardin’s project for Eyebeam could make gastroenterological history.

Continue reading »

Albert Bierstadt, "View of Donner Lake, California," 1871–1872. Oil on paper mounted on canvas, 29 1/4" x 21 7/8". Courtesy the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco.

Albert Bierstadt bathed the Sierra Nevada in heavenly light while Ansel Adams photographed Half Dome as though it were on the moon. Many artists depict California’s natural features as mythic and otherworldly. David Wilson’s landscapes run contrary to this impulse. The contemporary Northern California artist makes the state’s geography humble, knowable, and intimate. Although suggestive of wild places, the sites he draws are typically within five minutes of a major city. While Hudson River School painters such as Bierstadt proposed that nature was a place of heightened consciousness and sublime intensity, Wilson presents it as being down the street. His is a wilderness accessible by bus.

The artist’s installations and gatherings, often unsanctioned, mostly outdoor, continue his exploration of place. In some cases, they’re a direct extension of his two-dimensional work. Here, I talk to the artist about California, the Heal drawings, the Memorial Fort, and his summer 2010 residency at the UC Berkeley Art Museum.

Victoria Gannon: When did you move to California and why?

David Wilson: I moved to California in Fall 2005, shortly after I graduated from Wesleyan University, in Connecticut. I grew up on the East Coast. I had never gone inland, and some friends had been talking about coming out here. One friend in particular was really preaching the West Coast.

VG: How was she was selling it?

DW: She said, “We’ll go to Oakland and get a warehouse space, and it’s so cheap, and there’s really great people out there, and it’s so beautiful and the hills.”

My first visit, I went to Stinson Beach, and I went to the Berkeley hills, and I went to LoBot, that warehouse and gallery in West Oakland. I had this sense that this is an area that’s very involved with its landscape, which is really exciting to me, especially coming from the East Coast, where towns are so locked in. The idea that within ten minutes of driving the city would transform to just being beautiful and wild was very appealing to me. That sold me.

Continue reading »

M.A. Peers, "Valentina," 1996. Oil on found sofa upholstery fabric (vinyl), foam stuffing, 123 x 74 inches. Courtesy Rosamund Felsen Gallery.

During last week’s panel discussion in conjunction with M.A. Peers‘s exhibition at the Pomona College Museum of Art, Peers recalled a pivotal moment during her graduate studies.  Painter Linda Day told her to “paint the most embarrassing thing you can think of.”  Hence, Peers’s ongoing series of mammoth dog portraits was—in the punny words of panel moderator Doug Harvey—“unleashed” from her psyche and studio.

Leading up to that point, Peers had exhibited only abstract, Combine-like amalgamations of scavenged domestic textiles.  As a carless Canadian expat, Peers combed the sidewalks of suburbanly sprawled Los Angeles, hunting, gathering, and skinning various grotesque couches, chairs, and other castoff interior decoration.  Peers’ practice collided the heroicism of New York abstract expressionist art jocks with the categorically ugly throwaways of the feminine  private sphere.

Meanwhile, she had kept her passion for another marker of domesticity—and domestication—tightly under wraps.  Having grown up working in kennels and showing dogs on the show circuit, Peers spent her whole life drawing and painting dogs privately.  So when Day challenged Peers to shake up her practice by mining embarrassment, Peers (as recounted in her exhibition catalogue) “thought of an Irish setter.”

Continue reading »

“My work’s always had a lot to do with language and the landscape of the mind,” says artist Jessica Rankin, referencing her intricately embroidered pieces. Filmed in 2008 in a Berlin studio adjoining that of her partner, artist Julie Mehretu, Rankin discusses how learning a foreign language as well as reading literature are influential to her working method.

For videos of Art21 artist Julie Mehretu in the same Berlin studio, check out Workday and Studio Assistants.

VIDEO | Producer: Wesley Miller & Nick Ravich. Interview: Susan Sollins. Camera: Ian Serfontein. Sound: Paul Stadden. Editor: Lizzie Donahue & Joaquin Perez. Artwork Courtesy: Julie Mehretu & Jessica Rankin. Special Thanks: Julie Mehretu. @ 2010 Art21, Inc.

Back on May 7, 2008 I wrote my first column for Art21’s blog. In that initial post I said, “Teaching with Contemporary Art is about the things that happen when we share Art21 artists with our students. It’s about what happens to their approaches making art, the way they talk about art, and the ways engagement can help shape and redefine the art they create. Whether students are being introduced to Elizabeth Murray combining painting and sculpture or to Mark Dion balancing sculpture and ecology, this blog will focus on why contemporary art in the classroom is important, the kinds of things that happen when it’s part of the curriculum, and ideas for approaching contemporary art from a variety of angles.”

After 125 posts, it’s safe to say a lot has happened.

Since we started, I have had the pleasure of interviewing artists such as Eleanor Antin and Janine Antoni, as well as Esopus’ editor Tod Lippy. There have been wonderful conversations with teachers like Abbe Futterman at The Earth School and I have gladly given over the writing reigns to top-shelf guest bloggers such as Kristin Farr, Nate Morgan, John Hammond and Julie Thompson. I have also helped plan, facilitate and write about our first two Art21 Educator summer institutes in the column… and a third is on the way in 2011.

But none of this would have ever happened without some exceptional colleagues at Art21. For this, especially on a long holiday weekend, I am truly thankful.

I am thankful that our Executive Director, Producer and Curator, Susan Sollins, has a particular faith and confidence in me that can practically rival my own mother (don’t tell Mom. Please!). Even before I officially joined the staff at Art21 a few years ago, Susan was always eager to hear my perspective as an educator and engage in conversations about how all of this fits in the classroom.

I am thankful for my close friends and colleagues, Jessica Hamlin and Marc Mayer, who have now seen me in a variety of work situations that range from cathartic to dynamic to downright embarrassing. We continue to take the time to learn and grow together, allowing Education and Public Programs at Art21 to develop into something that is not only unique, but also exciting and engaging on a variety of levels with teachers and students across the country.

Finally, I want to say thank you to both Wesley Miller and Kelly Shindler, who encouraged me to jump right in when this column got off the ground and continue to be supportive whenever I’m a little lost or confused.

Two and a half years later, I like to think that Teaching with Contemporary Art continues to provide food for thought, provocative suggestions, questions to consider and special posts that keep things interesting. So let’s hope I don’t screw it up.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Detail from "I Wish Your Wish," 2003. Installation view from "Rivane Neuenschwander: A Day Like Any Other," New Museum, New York, 2010. Silkscreen on fabric ribbons, dimensions variable. Photo by Benoit Pailley.

Earlier this week, art historian Monica Amor lectured at the Mildred Lane Kemper Art Museum at Washington University in St. Louis on the topic of Neo-Concrete art in Brazil in the late 1950s and 1960s. This talk was presented in coordination with the mid-career survey of work by contemporary Brazilian artist Rivane Neuenschwander, organized by the New Museum in New York and currently on view at the Kemper. Amor’s lecture focused specifically on the work of Lygia Clark and Hélio Oiticica and offered insight into the rich artistic legacy of Brazilian conceptualism, a legacy that Neuenschwander shares. During the Q&A, the question of influence was raised when an audience member asked whether a direct relationship existed between this earlier work and that of Neuenschwander’s contemporary practice in Brazil. Many critics have attempted to anchor Neuenschwander’s work in a historical trajectory that begins with the Brazilian Neo-Concrete tradition and its emphasis on participatory actions, sensory experience, and contingency. Indeed, the artist’s use of simple, often unorthodox materials and the way in which she opens the work of art up to forces of nature and outside participants, be they ants, snails, or visitors, is readily linked to the practices of Clark and Oiticica. Her work with installation and participation also resonates strongly with broader international trends in contemporary art from the 1960s until today.

David Wilson. "Heal Again," 2009. Sumi ink on found paper, 60" x 192". Courtesy the artist.

My hometown of Lafayette, California, encompasses a 925-acre nature area, the boundaries of which press up against the town’s suburban roads and cul-de-sacs like a face against glass. When I was a teenager, I spent my afternoons hiking its trails, spying on the town’s happenings from these wooded and shrouded routes. I peered into neighbor’s backyards, watched carpools snake around curves, witnessed swim lessons and soccer practices from afar. I began to know the town from how it appeared when I was in the hills, and began to look toward the hills for comfort when I was standing in town.

In many Northern California locales, town and country similarly intertwine to create inverse versions of the same place. Nature, however mediated, dances at the edges of our cities and dissects our town centers, offering a visual respite from our highways and shopping malls. If you are stuck in traffic, look left to the Pacific Ocean; if you are crossing a crowded street, look right to a ridge line on which eucalyptus trees wave in the wind.

David Wilson. “Last Light,” 2008. Watercolor and charcoal pencil on found paper, 10 1/4" x 14 1/4". Courtesy the artist.

Incorporating drawing, watercolor, and social gatherings, David Wilson‘s artwork draws attention to the boundary between the Bay Area’s settled regions and what lies just beyond them. The East Bay hills, a backdrop to the cities of Oakland, Berkeley, and Richmond, are a frequent muse, serving as subject matter for his illustrations and a setting for his communal gatherings. Although the city is not typically represented in his drawings, its presence is always implied; it is only from the city that the natural world can beckon so unabashedly as a refuge.

The relatively young artist’s work exists within a loose trajectory of artists who have taken California’ s landscape as subject matter, often treating it “as an end in itself, complete on its own terms,” as Kevin Starr writes of photographer Edward Weston’s images in California (UC Press, 2005).

Continue reading »