Settling a Score

Verse 31
Tao te Ching
Stephen Mitchell translation

Weapons are the tools of violence;
All decent men detest them.

Weapons are tools of fear;
A decent man will avoid them
except in the direst necessity
and, if compelled, will use them
only with the utmost restraint.
Wholeness is his highest value.
If the wholeness has been shattered,
How can he be content?
His enemies are not demons,
But human beings like himself.
He doesn’t wish them personal harm.
Nor does he rejoice in victory.
How could he rejoice in victory
And delight in the slaughter of men?

He enters a battle gravely,
With sorrow and with great compassion,
As if he were attending a funeral.


Osama bin Laden perpetrated despicable, heinous acts. His evil, hateful influence ended not only American lives, but lives around the world. If death at the hands of another is ever justified, his death fits that description.

But I am troubled by gleeful celebrations of his death. If we sink to the level of Al Queda, whose members reveled in the Trade Towers’ collapse and deaths from bombings around the globe, hasn’t some basic human decency been compromised? Are we any better than they are, in our revelry over bin Laden’s final demise?

The end of a hateful life is the end of a hateful life. But death taken into human hands is a grave matter, and even when it feels justified, it isn’t a time for a party. Rather we should mourn the depths to which human beings are capable of sinking, and pray without ceasing, for global redemption.

Working on Style: Part Two

A few days ago I referred to the worth of developing a unique approach to your work, and called it style. The point that day revolved around entering exhibitions or approaching galleries, where the jurist/curators might prefer to see a body of work that reads as visually cohesive. I still stand by that point and the reasoning behind it.

But as my friend Jackie pointed out in the Comments Section, Picasso did any thing he wanted. Sculpture, painting, watercolor, drawing. Did I mean to imply that somehow we are different from Picasso, and therefore we don’t have the option of working in more than one medium or style?

I did not.

Actually my reference was very narrow. I play around with all kinds of materials and techniques and so should any artist who is seeking versatility and also personal voice. But what happens in the studio is different from what happens on an entry form. I might have three different ways of working going at once and more power to me if I can keep that many balls in the air simultaneously. But when I submit an application for a show, better to choose which style I am going to present to the world, and save the other juicy stuff for another entry form. It’s all about harnessing vision and introducing it to the world selectively.

But a couple of other considerations.

Consideration #1: I still think that there’s a lot to be said for limitations within a specific body of work. I want to be really good at dye printing. I want to know it inside and out. I can flit and flutter around other techniques and maybe come up with some ideas that will eventually insert themselves into the work I am showing publicly, but in the meantime, I want mastery - at least in a few areas.

Mediocre might be fun in the present moment of creation, but getting good at something by spending intimate hours with it is much more fun long term.

Consideration #2:
It’s the playing around that leads to the unique combination of tools and materials that is recognizably Jane. It's like a buffet. The first time you go, you choose a little bit of everything. You’re stuffed; it’s fabulous. But you almost feel sick from overindulging. Next time, maybe forget the pastries. Skip the ham. Concentrate on the shrimp cocktail, and the exquisite salads. Same thing in the studio. You try out this or that, but most of what you try ends up on the cutting room floor. It’s a special combination of process and approach that adds up to You - the artist with the recognizable style.

And once you get into a groove, you discover that the techniques you live and breathe morph. I used to use textile paint for printing. Now I use sand. Same basic printing, but working with it intimately, showed me what else it could do.

The paradox of working – old techniques become new ones – rejuvenated by an unexpected brainstorm twist. And plenty of experience.




Here are two of my play day results. I’m lusting after color as a result of all that work in black, white and gray. So the color fields are new/old. New this month, but a method I know intimately. The sand printing? Old/new. Old screen image. New material.Next? I see stitching.

Just working along on style. Working on my voice.

Working on Style

One of the essays I am reading suggests that Vincent van Gogh was actually a clumsy, rather inept painter. This would certainly never have occurred to me, as seeing his paintings in person is a highlight of being on the road so often. I get to visit a lot of museums.

Another part of the essay described how hard it is for a gallery owner to defend a painter’s work if the brushstrokes in one painting vary from those in another. Since I am not trained as a painter this was a bit of a shock.

Van Gogh sold one painting in his lifetime. Making all his brushstrokes alike probably wouldn’t have changed his sales portfolio much. It’s doubtful, knowing what we know about him, that he would have been inclined to play by those rules, anyway.

In the long run, we’re all a mix of trying to overcome ineptitude – at least at the beginning – and desire to please. Humans like consistency and continuity. It makes us feel comfortable. Gallery owners know this, so it is in their best interest - and by extension in the best interest of their artists - to encourage them to work in a recognizable style. That’s how artists become established in the collective cultural mind.

Last week I met with one of my Mastery Program groups. A noon discussion focused on entering juried shows. I offered the observation that many jurors prefer pieces entered by an artist that evidence continuity and cohesiveness, over the work of an artist who submits three stylistically different works. You might be good at three different methods of patterning cloth or painting, but if you are entering a juried show, it’s better to offer entries that hang together. It’s an indication that you have history, and also an enthusiasm for your process. This struck most of the class members as odd. What about versatility? What about exploring new mediums and ideas?

The fact is, artists need both experimentation and a personal style. In order to develop your skills and the ability to work meaningfully, you’ve got to play around and try out lots of ideas. That’s how an individual style eventually develops. It takes time and long hours of working to distill communal process into a singular voice.

But that still doesn’t solve the problem of being considered clumsy or inept. There are always refined standards by which your work will be judged. That’s why it’s so important to love your own work. If you do, then negative comments might sting, but it won’t be for long.

And consider this: too much refinement is like eating white bread. All the texture and powerful nutrients are gone. No artist should be relegated to white bread status. It’s way more satisfying to work from the heart, even when it’s a slightly clumsy effort, because the powerful nutrients are still there. Viewers always know this. And are grateful.

More Street Art

As an exercise to get back into studio mind I've been machine stitching on paint chips. There's nothing great about these, but it's a good warm up and fun to respond to the paint chip name as a way of riffing on the imagery.

The paint chips were named:
Spritz of Lime
Jackson Square (an ode to Pollack....)
Night Shift

I took these three little pieces out and hung them on the street - once again using telephone poles because they already have an embarrassment of ready to use nails. Hopefully the clipboards will help avoid the problem I had with Round 1 of my Street Art project - when a piece wasn't secure on the nail and subsequently crashed.

I put the same note on the back of these pieces - Free Art. Take this if you want it. I posted them in a different neighborhood. We'll see whether they disappear, and whether anyone calls to let me know they've claimed ownership.

The Gorgeous Blogger

This morning Sherri Lynn Wood nominated me as a Gorgeous Blogger. Hmm. Wish I’d known it when I looked in the mirror and fretted about whether to cut my hair or let it grow out.

Kidding aside, this is a neat way to let people know about blogs that are different or particularly intriguing to me, and I am flattered to be in her top five, since her own blog is one worth visiting.

As part of the deal I was asked to answer a few questions, and then nominate five other blogs I think readers might like to check out.

When did you start your blog?
Existential Neighborhood started in 2010, but I’ve been blogging since 2008 when I kept the Daily Visuals going for one year as a form of practice.

What do you write about?
I write about making, art, philosophy, absurdity and basically anything that is bothering, challenging or delighting me.

What makes this special?
I’m best known for technique development in the field of surface design, which doesn’t require philosophical components to be successful. But in the past I’ve been accused of being moody, intense and rebellious. It used to be problematic. Now it’s socially acceptable since nobody has to read what I write unless they want to.

What made you start writing?
I just love to write as much as I love to make. There are certain things you can do with dye that you can’t do with paint and vice versa. There are certain ideas I can represent visually that transcend words. But sometimes words trump art.

What would you change in your blog?
Right now at least, I wouldn’t change anything. It would be great to learn how to make short videos to include, but I recognize my own limitations and I haven’t gotten to that place on the list.

You might consider visiting:
Elaine Lipson birthed the slow cloth concept and always write something worth reading.
http://lainie.typepad.com/redthread
Jeanne Beck is prolific and dedicated and I love checking in to see what she is working on.
http://artbyjeannebeck.blogspot.com
Marie-Therese Wisniowski thinks big and deep about art and writes thoughtfully about many topics.
http://artquill.blogspot.com
Art Project by Google isn’t technically a blog, but you can visit art museums all over the world on this site with its virtual tours. Let’s set a date and visit together!
http://www.googleartproject.com
Robert Genn has a huge system of links, advertisements (don’t let them get to you) and insights. I just ordered his book The Twice Weekly Letters, because my friend Liz left it on the nightstand and I was awake past midnight, captured by his good sense, humor and professionalism. Check out the link to one of his letters (I guess technically it’s a blog) below:
http://clicks.robertgenn.com/eccentricity.php

Here’s to the mind expanding potential of the Internet.

Guerrilla Art Gardening

Last Saturday my guerilla art action was directed toward our community garden. The garden is a public space where anyone can plant a few flowers or vegetables. At dusk I took dozens of pretend bugs, butterflies and birds into the garden, and carefully wired them to the fences, tomato cages and blossoming stalks. The silk interlopers immediately attracted the real thing - a graceful Swallowtail butterfly looking for playmates.

This morning I visited the garden again. A single yellow bird is the only remaining evidence of my garden party. Did children carry away the brightly colored collection? Did a local gardener find the phonies unsuitable and remove them? Did a magic wand transform the lot Pinocchio-style, breathing temporary life into their plastic bodies?

It's challenging to give up the need to know. So I remind myself that this is an exploration of process, not outcome.

Learning to be open to process and detached from outcome isn't a lesson you learn once and then you've got it. It's a lesson you have to learn every day. Being in the garden this morning was good practice. I'm not great at letting go, but I'm getting better.

For My Daughter's Friend

The boy whose father died was not my son.
His father was not my friend, or lover or husband.
I didn’t know him.

I stare at the sparkling prisms on the chandeliers.
At the non-committal color of the walls.
Anywhere but at the face of the boy whose father died too soon.

I couldn’t stand to see my daughter in a casket.
Is it the only act I couldn’t undo?
When she was small, I told her I could accept anything as long as it was the Truth.
Death might be the Truth.
But it would not be a Truth I could easily accept.
And were death to come, I would want her to be somewhere. I realize this, sitting alone in the pew. I would need to be with her. I would need the confirmation of the body. It would make me crazy, but at least there would be no doubt as to the Truth.

Here, in this room, is a Father. Here is a casket. Here is a body. Here is a certain, resolute Truth.

The pastor makes remarks. It is all a pastor can do.
He’s talking about the other side.
The ship is moving away over the horizon.
We on the horizon line mourn the disappearance.
But those in the land where the sun is coming up stand joyfully and shout,
“Here it comes, here it comes.”
This, says the pastor, is Heaven. The father is the ship arriving. Everyone is joyful.
I am not convinced.

I look at the boy across the room, and love him.
I must. It is all I have to offer.
Maybe it will help him, as binding a wound begins the healing, once the nurse has arrived.
More likely, what he needs to survive this loss is a plunge deep into the immutable love of parent and child. Remembering.

This is the contract that cannot be broken.
This is the love that transcends time.
This is what the boy must fathom now, in his deepest grief.