Unless Today Was Yesterday
Twilight, Pence Gallery, Davis, CA, 2023
Twilight is a time when the bats come out to fly and eat; when change and possibility haunt the air. It is liminal, straddling a line between day and night, light and dark. My work is liminal as well, straddling a line between revealing and concealing, heavy and light, transparent and solid. The Covid pandemic could also be described as liminal, a time when human activities subsided, and animals came out of their lairs. There was a time before covid and now a time after. My recent work was born during the height of the pandemic and is morphing as we move through the upheaval in its wake.
During this time, I have been dreaming of flying. Carl Jung says flying dreams represent escape. Sigmund Freud says they are a result of nocturnal emissions (of course!). My pieces with wings and feathers are remnants of these dreams. During Covid I also experienced a loss of sense of time. Teaching online, I had to remind myself to check the calendar for the day. Many others have experienced this same strange disorientation. My brother is a physicist at Los Alamos, and we have been discussing what time is. Apparently, it is the same whether it goes backward or forward, it bends in space and is affected by gravity. In addition, many scientific equations work better without it. The concrete paired with the transparency feels to me like solidity gone awry—like time unraveling. During the pandemic it was as if each socially distanced bubble, was its own time warp-its own unravel. These recent art works were born during the twilight of Covid.
Parking
Pence Gallery, MONCA, Turtle Bay, 2019-2020
Parking, backseat of a Mustang, drive-in theater speaker, wood, epoxy resin, fur, concrete, audio of “Stickshifts and Safetybelts” by Cake playing from speaker. Pence Gallery, MONCA, Turtle Bay, 2019-2020, image by Harvey Spector
Building a bench was a huge stretch for me. I am a conceptual artist who deals with ideas in the abstract. To build something as useful, sturdy and wonderful as a bench to sit on, was a challenge. A challenge I discovered was exciting and expansive. I was inspired to incorporate sound. Benches are everywhere, along path ways, in parks, hallways, etc. and always surrounded by sounds. A car parked becomes a kind of bench with privacy. “Parking” is a concept most teenagers learn and in this situation the sound often includes radio-pop music of the period. As a youth my car was a ‘67 Mustang and so I fashioned the backseat of a vintage Mustang into a “bench” with the sounds that remind me of that backseat experience.
Mountain Myth
From Mapping Myth, a two-person show with Chris Clother, Siskiyou Arts Museum, Dunsmuir, CA, 2019
Searching for Bosons, constructed chair, 2 by 4’s, 1RPM motor, windshield wiper, copper leaf, 4’5” x 5’5” x 4’3”, Siskiyou Arts Museum, 2019
In this space I am layering three myths, a contemporary science hypothesis, an ancient Native American story, and a fictional animal, bringing them together in present time. The large triangle Searching for Bosons/Mountain Myth began as a piece about the subatomic particle called a boson. In the 1960’s scientists discovered that if they added up the weight of all the various parts of an atom (protons, neutrons, and electrons), it did not equal the weight of the whole atom. They hypothesized the existence of the boson to account for this discrepancy. Until 2012, a 50-year gap of time, the boson was a myth: believed to exist but not proven. Popular press began to refer to it as the “God” particle. In 2012, with the advent of the Hadron accelerator, Swiss scientists were able to smash atoms and find the missing boson, but immediately it disappeared again. From Egyptian to Mayan, mountains connect heaven and earth in most ancient mythologies. The chair with the antennae on top of the “mountain” is searching for Bosons.
Witness
Siskiyou Arts Museum, Dunsmuir, CA, 2015
Swing Tree, Swing, enlarged Google map of clear cuts in canyon around Dunsmuir and Mt. Shasta area, tree swing, Siskiyou Arts Museum, 2015
Witness, antlers, wood, built chair, 1rpm motor, windshield wiper, astroturf, tree swing, Siskiyou Arts Museum, 2015
Witness was built from ideas that surfaced during my daily walks in the woods off Mott Road above my hometown of Dunsmuir, where I have lived for the past 30 years. My dog occasionally finds a deer leg, an antler or a bone and brings these to me as an offering. These gifts find their way into my sculptures, graphic reminders from our wanderings.
Witness functions liminally as both a meditation on the concept of “home” for us as individuals and “home” as niche for the wild life in the forests surrounding our town. The title, Witness, acts as both verb and noun and suggests that we are each playing the part of the witness as our world morphs before our eyes.
This tree swing is very similar to the one I swung on as a youth, free from cares and enjoying the natural world of dirt at my feet, tree above my head, and wind across my body. The map placed under the swing is an enlarged version of the Google-Earth image of the canyon around the city of Dunsmuir, where I live. White splotches are evident where the forest has been clear-cut in an ever proliferating and relentless onslaught. With these two elements, the swing and the map, I am juxtaposing the innocence of a child’s encounter with the natural world and the knowledge of the adult’s encounter with that world, under assault.
Between This
Gallery 1078, Chico, CA, 2014
Between This, 1 rpm motor, hand built chair, angle iron, blue mirrored plastic, 3.5′ x 3.5′ x 9′, Gallery 1078, 2014
Between This detail, 1 rpm motor, hand built chair, angle iron, blue mirrored plastic, 3.5′ x 3.5′ x 9′, Gallery 1078, 2014
Between this
Between all the moments that have been and the moments that will be
Between yesterday and tomorrow
In the interstices between cells
Between beats of a heart
The last breath between this world and the next.
Between the moment one jumps and the moment one falls
Between the skin and the muscle beneath
Between you and me
Them and us
No one and someone
Between this
Don’t Look Back
1078 Gallery, Chico, CA, 2012
Don’t Look Back, 1950’s projector, fur, wood, motion sensor, 9′ x 2′ x 4’h, 1078 Gallery, 2012
As I looked through photo albums of friends and family I found all the women dressed in fur coats to ward off the Minnesota cold. This is a composite portrait of all the Grandmothers. As the viewer approaches the projector motor whirs and a flickering light projects onto the back of the fur coat.
Tea with Mother
1078 Gallery, Chico, CA, 2012
Tea with Mother, 2 x 4’s, ceramic cup, copper leaf, pendulum clock, rosary, fur coat, pink lipstick, 4′ x 4′ x 5’1″, 1078 Gallery, 2012
Tea with Mother detail, 2 x 4’s, ceramic cup, copper leaf, pendulum clock, rosary, fur coat, pink lipstick, 4′ x 4′ x 5’1″, 1078 Gallery, 2012
My mother was English and we drank tea in the afternoons. It was an excuse for any topic to be discussed. On occasion, she told fortunes from the tea leaves. (It was rumored, but never proven, that we have a gypsy relative who ran off with one of our grandmothers.) I built this piece the year she passed away.
The teacup is gilded in copper leaf. Copper is a conductive material; some homes in our area have copper roofs because the owners believe it will conduct spiritual energy into their living spaces. One banister is wrapped in fur from a coat she wore, and the other wears her lipstick color. The rosary sways back and forth... a petition, a prayer, a talisman. Talisman in Wikipedia is “an object which is believed to contain certain magical or sacramental properties which would provide good luck… A talisman must be charged with magical powers by a creator; it is this act of consecration or ‘charging’ that gives the talisman its alleged magical powers. The talisman is always made for a definite reason.”
Shift Time
1078 Gallery, Chico, CA, 2012
Shift Time, plexiglass, skyhook, 1RPM motor, fishline, copper leaf, mylar, stools, 4′ x 4′ x 9′, 1078 Gallery, 2012
Shift Time refers to the time interval between gear changes in a transmission during which power delivery is interrupted. This is usually in reference to motor vehicles but can apply to any gearbox. Reducing shift time is important in performance vehicles or race cars because during shifting the vehicle is rolling without power to the wheels.
Sift…Shift
University Art Gallery, Chico, CA, 2011
Sift…Shift, 30' x 30', University Art Gallery, Chico, CA, 2011
Sift...Shift is a mult-media installation, incorporating sound, video and sculpture, displayed in the University Art Gallery, Taylor Hall, at California State University, Chico. The viewer enters the space on a large deck, which leads to a false partition shingled with myriads of overlapping pillows sheathed in white slips. Gentle sounds of night-time crickets fill the space. Sift…Shift is made up of six individual sculptural elements: Last Dance, Red Rover, Gate Keeper, Night Sounds, Listening Table and Scarf Dancers.
The divided room functions as metaphor for time and how through Einstein’s predicted wormholes two separate moments in time can be simultaneous.
A video of ocean waves and shorebirds is projected across the sculpture Last Dance and onto the opposite wall enveloped in mylar. This causes a shadow of the sculpture to interact with the waves, and visitors can see their shadows in the projected water.
Night Sounds
Night Sounds, 100 pillows, binoculars, cd player, recording of crickets, 11'h x 15'w x 1/2'd, University Art Gallery, 2011
Night time cricket sounds softly fill the gallery. Binoculars between the pilows give access to the other side of the room, where scarves slowly brush the gallery floor.
Listening Table and Scarf Dancers
Listening Table and Scarf Dancers, table top, extended legs, conch shell, scarfs, 1rpm motors, powder, University Arts Gallery, 2011
A table to listen under…
Slowly circling scarves brush the gallery floor… Scarf Dancers is a multiple of many scarves tied in series and hanging from motors that rotate at 1rpm. They slowly brush the surface, moving the powder, sweeping the floor…
Communing: Dirt, Calling Home, Running on Empty
Dirt
Dirt, bicycle wheel, 1rpm motor, copper plate, earphones, wire, 5'h x 3'w x 3'd, 2011
…the wheel turns slowly and the wire twists.
Alchemy is, “The quest for a fabled elixir capable of turning copper and other base metals to gold and also a quest to prevent human beings’ bodies from becoming old...” (Wikipedia)
Dirt and Calling Home intentionally incorporate the twin concepts of pataphysics and alchemy. Pataphysics was invented by Alfred Jarry and is “The science of imaginary solutions. . .”
Calling Home
Calling Home, goggles, can, table legs, plasticine, plexiglass, surgical tubing, 4'd x 1 1/2'w x 3'h, 2011
Alchemy is “The quest for a fabled elixir capable of turning copper and other base metals to gold and also a quest to prevent human beings’ bodies from becoming old...”
Running on Empty
Running on Empty, glass, surgical tubing, plastic, fan, water, 1 1/2 ' x 1 1/2' x 25', 2011
Eric Kandel postulates that memory is what defines us as conscious beings. Because it is all memory except the moment of now...
These pieces are part of a series I have been working on called Communing, because it is about trying to achieve a connectedness across barriers. When my father died and later my sister, I felt a continued deep presence from each of them.
Recently my mother passed and I have not felt that same connection, though I expected to. My search is not about whether or not there is an afterlife, only a desire to feel this continued presence.
Art is not apart from life, and in these pieces my desire to connect and my effort to fid a specific feeling are asserting themselves.
Traces
Liberty Arts Gallery, Yreka, CA, 2010
Traces installation views, Liberty Arts Gallery, 2010
Traces: A sign or evidence of some past thing. A perceptible sign made by something that has passed.
Traces installation view, Liberty Arts Gallery, 2010
Eric Kandel postulates that memory is what defines us as conscious beings. Because it is all memory except the moment of now, we are only conscious because our neurons collect and categorize our memories. Memories define each of us as the person who was here, and experienced that. At this point in his book I started to feel slightly bereft, maybe nonexistent, and I went in search of my memories.
Looking through old photo albums with my mother was reassuring. I was there. As I set about transcribing these photos into paint, sometimes I could feel the grass between my toes, or the wind blowing my hair. Still no specifics, but I felt I was there.
As I continued this search new sculptural forms evolved and abstracted. This installation is a culmination of a year of reckoning with traces of a forgotten history, and an attempt to access a place where as Italo Calvino says in Invisible Cities, “Desires are already memories.”
Sirenidae
Gregory Kondos Gallery, Sacramento, CA, 2006
Sirenidae, Gregory Kondos Gallery, Sacramento, CA, 2006
Clear packaging tape is slowly and carefully pieced together, like knitting or basket weaving…huge, transparent suspended forms sway...
Siren (1) Greek Mythology. One of a group of sea nymphs who by their sweet singing lured mariners to destruction on the rocks surrounding their island. (2) A beautiful, seductive woman; temptress. (3) A device in which compressed air or steam is driven against a rotating perforated disk to create a loud, penetrating whistle, wailing, or other sound as a signal or warning. (4) Any instrument producing a similar sound as a signal or warning. (5) Any of several North American amphibians of the family Sirenidae, having an eel like body and no hind limbs. —The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, p.1210
When I was young I became addicted to making art. I played with sticks and mud and built small forms and as I worked with the materials they evoked powerful feelings in me. This power of a material substance to evoke feelings is what art is about for me. Art is preverbal—it awakens sleepy, subconscious energies. Layers of meaning are revealed, like peeling many onion skins, so that often even the artist doesn’t know all that is manifesting with his/her work. As an example, Georgia O’Keefe repeatedly denied the sexual suggestiveness of her large, obviously sensual flowers. Each viewer brings a different set of life experiences to the work, adding to the complexity and confusion involved in deciphering contemporary art. What the viewer thinks it is, is as important as what the maker thinks it is. Knowing that my art is ambiguous and strangely powerful to me, I searched for a name for this show. As I searched I came across the dictionary definition of “Siren” and found five distinct meanings; all five definitions seemed right for this installation.
Like real human relationships, the forms call to each other, strain for each other, but do not find connection. We search, and try but don’t seem able to fill each other’s desires. The shapes are made from a mass produced, non-art material, packing tape, which is not precious. I like that they are not precious—like Duchamp I am persuaded by the non-art, art object. I patiently press pieces together to form large shapes, like knitting or sewing—women’s work. I also like that, using a work habit that has defined my sex from the beginnings of time. I like the tape itself, ephemeral and beautiful. I build the shapes to mimic organic forms I have seen under the microscope or to be suggestive of fungi growing from trees in the forests of Vermont. They become multicellular “sirens,” seductresses from Greek mythology, alluring and insatiable.
Much like sandcastles these pieces are built to last only a short while and then to be destroyed by time. In this sense they function as a metaphor for our civilization as well. Will we stand the test of time? The sounds filling the installation space alternatively could be “sirens,” as in “Code Orange,” or a fire siren, calling a warning to us as a species—we humans who insist on ignoring all evidence. The tape is a manmade, commercial product representing a society that uses sex to sell ever more products…and, like the sex industry the tape has gone wild taking over the Gregory Kondos Gallery in an almost cellular exuberance. Here, the commercialism of the tape product has been subjugated to the art impulse…creating, existing, without commercial intent.
Mirage
