Critique Collective

Critique Collective is your source for information and interviews about emerging and established contemporary artists.

Focus on Denver: Peter Yumi’s Process-based Collages Evoke Timely Technological Concerns

There is an aura of technological apprehension enveloping Peter Yumi’s process-heavy collages, an atmosphere of repetitious undulation that forms a tornado of imagery. The collages slip into a vacuum of illusory space with limits defined only by the syntax of Yumi’s rigidly predetermined, formulaic process, which would read as a specter of formalist painting if it didn’t act as a signifier for the cold effectiveness implicit in contemporary digital interactions. The collages also evince intuitive tropes as seen in the artist’s working materials from dilapidated selfies to gift-wrapped patterning.

The Denver based artist and former tiger handler for a Las Vegas magic show studied at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design, and his work has been featured by the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver, Palm Springs Art Museum, Andenken Gallery, and various other venues throughout the United States. Yumi was also recently interviewed in Westword‘s 100 Colorado Creatives series. More images of Yumi’s work can be found on his website.

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Faces, collage, Peter Yumi, 2014


Paul Weiner:
How do you find imagery to use in your collages?

Peter Yumi:
Mostly, the materials are found. I collect junk walking around, and people give me a ton of magazines. I also go to estate sales and buy vintage Christmas wrapping paper. I admit it. I have a gift wrapping paper fetish. I started asking friends to pose for me for my newest work. I just send them a text and say, “hey can you send me some selfies?” and they do. The internet is a miracle. I own nearly every single issue of Playboy and decades and decades of National Geographic. I have also taken to collecting soda cans I find or consume on my own and crushing them with my car to use in my collages. I create most of the imagery in the collages on my own, though. I paint quite obsessively. I scan those paintings or photograph them, and they are eventually added to the collages.

ladiesinthehouse2

Ladies in the House, collage, Peter Yumi, 2014

Paul Weiner:
There are often figures embedded within your collages. Who are these figures, and what meaning do they bring to the work?

Peter Yumi:
Most of the images are of friends or of people from current events. Some are from my Playboy collection. I have been working on my artwork pretty intensely the past few years, and I have not been that social as a result, so I started going out to galleries and photographing people I know as well. Mainly, I wanted to have my work express this general feeling of being cut off from what makes us human, being creative and having the balance of being an individual and part of a community. Today, we have all sorts of gizmos like the internet and our smart phones to be part of a world wide global nervous system, but the payoff is to maintain that you have to give up some of the freedoms of being a free spirit. Everything this measured now. In the workplace, keystrokes and other behaviors are measured, but behaviors that can not be quantified are being forgotten: how well did my cashier at the grocery store make someones day? Those types of behaviors are becoming less and less important. We are losing individual expression at the cost of productivity, and that is really a shame. But, at the same time, I am fearful and know others often feel oppressed by our new technological world but love the rewards that it gives. So, the images are supposed to reflect that feeling of being human and being part of technology or the age of technology anxiety. The subject matter is something important to me because I know that I am not the only one who feels this sense of alienation and dehumanization.

city

City, collage, Peter Yumi

Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about your physical process for collage. What kinds of techniques are you using?

Peter Yumi:
I wrote three different versions to explain how I make these collages. Basically I paint a lot, and as a painter I am very expressive. I have always had a love of patterns and textiles and try to use those in the paintings. I try not to think. I have been a mediator for over twenty years, and that plays an important role in my process. If I start thinking things like “this is really good” or “this is really bad,” I just say to myself, in my head, “you’re thinking,” and I welcome myself back to painting, and I go back to painting. I have created all of these steps to keep as much of my neurotic self out of my process. Once I start making the final collage works, I have a much more methodical means of production.

The work involves a lengthy process of creating paintings and drawings that are scanned and catalogued by color, pattern, and subject matter for later use. Vintage wrapper paper and found photos or selfies and model photos are hole-punched and paper cut involving a process that allows for random cuts to limit the editorial choices. Each and every step of the process involves a set of rules in an attempt to leave the self out of the editorial process. Once the images have been prepped, they are scanned and catalogued. Later, the images are harvested for use in the creation of new images in Photoshop. They are worked through a process that again prohibits many editorial choices and leaves much to chance operations. Once that process is completed, the multiple images are printed out and cut apart using scissors, hole punchers, and circle cutters. They are then laid out on sheets of plexiglass, where they are in turn photographed or scanned. Then the process is again repeated 8, 13, or 21 times. The following rule is used to express the number of layers:

Screen Shot 2014-06-30 at 7.17.00 PM

Once the layering is completed, sanding of the finished object occurs. The collage is scanned and then processed in Photoshop using a 3% black layer with noise filter set at 348.21%. The images are then saved and sent to production using an HP5800 large-format printer.

Johnbabcock

John Babcock, collage, Peter Yumi, 2014

Paul Weiner:
Where would you ideally like to see your artwork displayed? Does it fit in a traditional gallery or more of an alternative setting?

Peter Yumi:
I have been looking at joining a few co-op galleries here in Denver. I have spent the past five years or so wood shedding and really editing and working out my process, experimenting. I have been hesitant to show a lot of my work for that reason. I think of the process that writers go through, writing and rewriting and editing and reediting their work, is something that artists should embrace more. In the past, I would make work specifically for a group show, but now I have taken to creating an entire body of work that reads more like a delicious book of poems, and I have found that’s what it requires. I have shown my older work in a number of galleries, but for my newest work I want full control of what I am creating and the environment. I am essentially creating a space that is fully immersible with sound, light, and imagery, so it is important to me to be able to work with the rules that I have set up and do what the work demands. Right now, some of my prints might be ok with a group showing, but ideally they all need to been seen in a space together. They are brothers and sisters. It is my job, like any father, to raise them right and make sure that I provide a good place to nurture them. I work for them. They don’t work for me.

playboy1a

Playboy, collage, Peter Yumi, 2014

Paul Weiner:
Do you see the images you use from Playboy or National Geographic as having appropriated meaning when taken out of their original context or are they only for aesthetic purposes?

Peter Yumi:
I like using the images from anywhere I can find them, really. Sometimes, I will see an image, and it will really hit me like a punch in the gut or it will make me laugh uncontrollably. I have really been doing my best to use images that are older than ten years old, mainly because I want my images to look very contemporary. I think many collage artists fall into the trap of making work with old images because they are copying collage styles from the past, but, when those artists made much of that collage originally, those were new images to them. It is important to me to see those distinctions between new and old images. If the image in the magazine is old, and I like it, though, I just treat it like any other image. In the end, it is about the result. I remember talking with a collage artists about how he used images from a book printed in the 1930s, just cut them up. He seemed proud of this, but to me, that’s what the work demands of a collage artist. You cut stuff up just like a painter mixes paint. A painter does not regret mixing pure blue with red to make purple, so a collage artist shouldn’t have those regrets either.

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Abe, collage, Peter Yumi

Paul Weiner:
How did you come up with the rules and equations for your process?

Peter Yumi:
John Cage has been an enormous influence on my work. I used to use I Ching to make my rules. Now, I make my rules through planning and observation of what other artists are doing. Sometimes, it will be a simple rule like only one image can be used in this collage, but you can have multiple copies of that same image. Sometimes, it will be no green. Other times, I will construct elaborate rules based off of language of some poets. Steve McCaffery does it so will with poetry, and I borrow a lot from the poets from that school. The equation I shared earlier is an expression of the Fibonacci sequence and it is used by artists all the time. Sometimes, they don’t even know they are using it with golden ratios. For my layering of images with glass, I decided upon the number of images layered at any given time based on that sequence. It goes like this: 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21. I can have one image by itself, that image with a second image, or a third, but, if I add any additional layers of glass, there has to be five because 2+3=5. So on and so forth, it makes it fun to have those limits. All sorts of strange things start happening during that process, things that happen just because of those rules.

palaceofwater2

Palace of Water, collage, Peter Yumi, 2014

Paul Weiner:
How may collages would you estimate that you create over the course of a month?

Peter Yumi:
That’s really hard to say. I usually make ten to twenty images a day or more. Then my final finished collage work, I make twenty or more a month. I have created all sorts of ways of automating how the work is shared online with programs like Hootsuite. I use other means to randomly generate tagging of images on social media. I take all that data that is generated from views to my page to create a spreadsheet so I can track the highest number of views and where those people are coming from. That is a project of its own. I am working on a program now that will output all that data visually on my website so people can, if anyone cares but me, see in a beautiful way what they are looking at exactly.

ladies

Ladies, collage, Peter Yumi, 2014

Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about the Denver art scene. What art venues do you go to when you want to see something interesting?

Peter Yumi:
I mostly go to galleries on Saturday or Sunday afternoon by myself and look at the work when no one is in the galleries. I will go to any space that has shows with friends or folks whose work I am interested in. I am very egalitarian in my choices of artwork. I honestly don’t know a lot about which galleries are currently trendy one or the ones people think are not that great. My thing is that I feel if people are making work that is thought provoking and downright interesting, I am interested in looking at it. I love artists, and anytime someone is making art, I don’t care who they are or who people think they are or aren’t. I feel joy that people are making artwork. We need more people making artwork in our world filled with strife and suffering, creating, getting out of their habitual thinking patterns, and being generally more alive. I just love artists and art.


Please view Peter Yumi’s website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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Mary Luke’s Paintings Merge Existentialist Theories and the Human Figure

mary luke

Detail of self portrait, 2013

Mary Luke is known for paintings involving existentialist commentary on the human figure, particularly as it relates to aging. In her monumental oil paintings that often extend five or more feet in either direction, Luke develops a tour de force of painterly figuration, engulfing viewers in voids and distorted body parts. Luke often works on unstretched canvas, applying various papers, paints, tape, and detritus from her studio to create heavy layers of rich, malleable textures and an atmosphere reminiscent of action painters like Willem De Kooning. Better yet, her recent works plunge into the realm of gesture and ephemerality, where her non-archival paintings are given a life span mimicking that of her subject, elderly human figures. Though many of Luke’s recent works may be seen as vignettes, these single figures act as decentralized nodes for a postmodern theoretical discourse when placed in the gallery setting. A visual language emanates from the didactic works, which is punctuated by elegant aesthetic choices including swirls of impasto oil paint, varying line qualities, and enticing pops of color.

Luke recently relocated to Philadelphia after graduating from Syracuse University with a BFA in painting in May of 2014. She has displayed her artwork in the Piazzale Donatello 21 in Florence, Italy, Katonah Museum of Art, SUNY Purchase, and various galleries throughout the Syracuse area such as 914 Works and XL Projects. Further images and information about Luke’s work can be found on her website.

new installation

Installation at Piazzale Donatello 21 in Florence, Italy, 2013


Paul Weiner:
What kinds of materials do you use in your work?

Mary Luke:
Oil paint is the leading medium in my work. However, I am interested in combining oil paint with other mediums including charcoal, graphite, pastel, ink, and acrylic paint. And, although I generally paint on canvas, it is often stretched directly onto the wall, exposing imperfect shape and fraying edges.
This combination of materials and collage-like process along with my informal presentation is key to my work. I allow things to remain unfinished, and I find form in the scraps of paper and other studio debris often recycled from other works.

new bigversioni

Self Portrait, Sitting No. 2, 2014

Paul Weiner:
How has your work evolved over the past few years?

Mary Luke:
I have always focused on the human figure as a subject in my work. And although that has not changed in the past few years, my style, portrayal, and scale of the figure has evolved dramatically. I find it important for artists to develop observational skills through traditional means before being allowed to utilize distortion or abstraction in their work. That way, they fully understand that which they are abstracting. That is why there is a definite transition from my early work, which employs aspects of realism and impressionism, to my recent work, which focuses more on gesture and exposes the process of the painting rather than masking it with fully rendered form and space. My work has also grown in size over the years; I find that my larger works have a greater effect on the viewer and allow them to enter the painting as the subject.

new self portrait, sitting

Self Portrait, Sitting, 2013

Paul Weiner:
Which artists have been most influential to your practice?

Mary Luke:
There are many artists who have influenced my work. Francis Bacon has probably been the most influential, especially in my most recent body of work from the past couple years. I have always admired his distorted depiction of the figure often placed in an equally distorted space. He has an incredible ability to create these figures that make you uncomfortable yet empathetic. I similarly strive to allow for the viewer to place him or herself in the context of the painting; in that way, the work becomes something greater than a painting and allows for a very personal, yet universally human, emotional response to the work.

I have also avidly studied the works of R.B. Kitaj who utilizes bright colours and layers of space and form, mimicking collage. He also creates disorienting environments which provoke a sense of psychotic-ness, similar to Bacon.

Both Bacon and Kitaj stayed faithful to figurative art during times when abstraction dominated the art world. Since then, many artists have continued to abandon the figure as more media is introduced into contemporary art. Despite this, I think the figure will always be a vital part of the art world and my body of work as it is inevitably the most relatable to both the artist and viewer.

new self portrait, collaged

Self Portrait, Collaged, 2013

Paul Weiner:
Do you see painting as being more about expression or is it a tool for conceptual and political commentary?

Mary Luke:
I think that painting lends itself equally to expression and conceptualism. When you think about it, concept comes from expression; at least, that is how it should work. I do think that contemporary art is often over-conceptualized, meaning that the concept is more important and precedes the expression of the artwork itself, leaving little for the viewer to look at and contemplate. Whenever art is described and used as a tool for political commentary, it completely loses its expressive and artistic quality because it is being extorted and manipulated into something synthetic and insincere. There is a fine line between these realms of art, and I think the only way to decipher between the two is to determine if a piece of art can speak for itself or if it needs translation. It is the latter that we need to avoid.

new old woman

Old Woman, 2014

new old man

Old Man, 2014

Paul Weiner:
Many of your recent paintings involve elderly figures. Why did you choose this subject matter?

Mary Luke:
There are a few things that attracted me to portraying elderly figures in my recent works. First, it has to do with form; the ideal human form as the media and society is concerned is completely different than the ideal form in figure drawing. Figure needs mass, space, shapes, line, etc. to make it visually appealing as well as interesting to draw in the first place. Though the idea of folds of skin and wrinkles and sagging body parts seems off-putting, these qualities have so much potential for capturing emotion as well as a sense of physical being. I am very concerned with confrontation in my work in that I want the viewer to confront the figure and vice versa; therefore, it is necessary to give the viewer a figure that, though two-dimensional, has a physical presence.

The second reason I have been painting elderly figures is more conceptual than the first. I try to incorporate my studies and interest in philosophy in my paintings. There is an inarguable connection between existentialist theories and my portrayal of these aging human forms who, when you really look at it, are only made up from gestural lines and glimpses of body parts. So, although they seem physically there, it is really the mind and consciousness of the figure that has brought forth its existence on the canvas. Again, I believe that elderly figures have the greatest potential to relay this idea because you can see their bodies aging and deteriorating, further emphasizing the role of conscious existence.

new 2013

Self Portrait, 2013

new self portrait, reaching

Self Portrait, Reaching, 2013

Paul Weiner:
Where would you ideally display your work? Does it belong in a traditional gallery setting or a more alternative space?

Mary Luke:
Of course, as an artist, it would be ideal to see my work in a gallery or a museum. However, I find that my paintings thrive most on the walls of my studio, where they were created. Few people get to see my work in that environment, but it’s interesting to see how the space has been transformed by the making of the piece and vice versa. In that way, you can see further into the process, see what was left behind and what was included and how my paintings progress together.


Please view Mary Luke’s website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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Focus on Denver: Evan Anderman’s Aerial Photography Provokes Discourse on American Land Politics

Terminus, Eleven Mile Reservoir, CO, 2013.

Terminus, Eleven Mile Reservoir, CO, 2013.

Evan Anderman’s documentation of agriculture and energy development on Colorado’s eastern plains mediates public fascination over aerial photography reminiscent of Google Earth with the energetic expression of shooting photography while piloting an airplane. From commentary on the ethics of human land usage to criticism of the almost imperial land distribution politics at work on the plains, there is no denying that Anderman’s work is dazzlingly, intellectually, perilously challenging as a call for serious discussion about limiting human impacts on the natural environment.

Anderman holds a PhD in geological engineering from the Colorado School of Mines and undergraduate degree in geological engineering from Princeton University. His photography has exhibited at a variety of venues in Colorado including the Denver Art Museum, Denver International Airport, Carmen Wiedenhoeft Gallery, and Robischon Gallery. Anderman’s work is also in the collection of the Denver Art Museum. His Imposition series will be on display in a solo exhibition at the Carmen Wiedenhoeft Gallery in Denver opening on September 12, 2014. Further images of Anderman’s work can be found at evananderman.com.


Paul Weiner:
How is your work as a photographer informed by your background in geology?

Evan Anderman:
I think that photography is all about seeing. You can’t take a good picture unless you can see what you want to take a picture of. As a geologist, I can’t help but see the land differently because once you know how something is made you see everything that went into making it. It’s funny to think back to when I was first taking geology courses at Princeton. I would come home on break and drive up to the mountains through the various roadcuts along I-70 and 285, and it was all right in front of me and suddenly all made sense. It’s lucky I didn’t get in an accident. Once you know what you’re looking at, the rocks tell you their story, and you can see it right there. There are certain characteristics that you look for in the different formations that tell you how they were formed. It’s not just the old igneous, metamorphic, and sedimentary labels that everyone learned in school. You really see the small details and how they form the land. To fly over the western United States in an airplane is better than any geology textbook. You get to see examples of practically every different geologic process laid out before you. I always thought I liked being a pilot because of the mechanical aspects of it, but I have only just lately realized that I fly because I want to look at all the geology around me. Taking pictures from the airplane made me realize that because now I have a way to show people exactly what I see when I look out the window of an airplane. My wife never flies with me because she doesn’t like to look out the window. Plus, she says that I chatter all the time because I am so excited.

Inky Patterns, San Juan Basin, NM, 2013

Inky Patterns, San Juan Basin, NM, 2013

Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about your process for finding locations to take these high-altitude shots.

Evan Anderman:
I’m not really a planner. When I head out to take pictures, I like to be in the moment and just react to what is in front of me. The challenge for me is trying to find that interesting picture wherever I am and whatever the lighting conditions are. That extends to my aerial photography as well. In my airplane, generally I am not heading to a specific location, but rather a general area. Sometimes I don’t even make the decision until I’m in my airplane with the engine started. I’ve been known to change my route in the air, and that always works out for me. There’s an element of serendipity involved with finding locations, and that just fascinates me completely. I have been concentrating on the eastern plains of Colorado and have flown numerous flights over all seasons of the year. It’s interesting to me to see how things change from week to week and month to month. I don’t necessarily visit the exact same location multiple times, but I visit the same general area and see how it has changed. The farmers are always out doing their farming things, and I am always on the lookout for new things that are interesting to photograph.

I have also been trying to branch out a little and visit the various states around us: New Mexico, Wyoming, Kansas, Nebraska. It doesn’t really matter where I am. I generally can find something interesting to photograph.

Sometimes I do have a specific destination in mind that I want to explore. A couple of months ago I flew up to Gillette, Wyoming to look at the huge, open-pit coal mines up there. It is crazy how much land has been disturbed up there. I also flew over the Pinyon Canyon Army Maneuver site near La Junta; it is crazy how the landscape is covered with vehicle tracks for miles and miles.

It helps to be curious and to constantly be on the lookout for that interesting relationship that makes viewers curious about what they are looking at. Canadian photographer Edward Burtysnsky calls this the essential element, that one thing that has to be in the photograph. Once I see it, I have the technical foundation to be able to capture that element in an interesting way. I tell people that I’m looking for the needle in the haystack. That is what I am collecting.

That being said, there are times when the light is just terrible, so it may be a long time in between when I take a picture because I know the conditions will not allow a decent photograph to be made. You just have to accept the conditions and stay vigilant when they change.

Farmer Palette, Yuma, CO, 2014

Farmer Palette, Yuma, CO, 2014

Paul Weiner:
How large is your archive of photography for your Imposition project, and what considerations influence your selections of photography that you feel is worthy of displaying?

Evan Anderman:
I started working on the Imposition project last November when I flew down to Gallup, New Mexico to meet up with my brother. I flew over the San Juan basin, and the geology was just incredible. I couldn’t help but make photographs of it. This geology inspired the likes of Georgia O’Keefe and is what Eliot Porter called the Black Place. I knew that my Conformation series was winding down, and I was looking for the next thing. This one flight inspired this next series. I wanted to step back from the boldness of the feedlot pictures and concentrate more on the stunning beauty of the land. I also got very inspired by the New Topographics group as I started working on the series and was inspired to try to say something with my pictures as well. So, I decided to show the way that man has done some very curious things to the land in the activities that we need to support our society. Once I had this idea in mind, I started taking more flights and found photographs everywhere I looked.

All this is to say that I have taken thousands of pictures for this project so far and have literally hundreds to choose from for the upcoming exhibition. I really envision this work being presented at a large scale, roughly 4 feet by 5 feet, and the gallery can only handle a limited numbers of works that large. That’s where the hard work starts, narrowing it down to the eight or ten images that will be included in the show. In the first cut, I removed all the pictures that did not clearly illustrate the influence of man, and that reduced the group to about eighty. From that group of images, you could pick several different shows depending on what you wanted to concentrate on. I’ve had a lot of help from my assistant Valerie Santerli, a photographer herself and well-known Denver creative who also runs the Rule Gallery. I consider myself extremely lucky to be able to work with her! Slowly, we’ve whittled it down to sixteen images so far, but have to cut that number in half. That process has consisted of making test prints of the images and laying them all out next to each other to see how they talk to each other. You can see a picture of us doing this on my Facebook page. We move them around and start to get a flow, removing all of the ones that just aren’t working well with the others. It takes some time, and I find it hard to eliminate some because they have become a favorite for some reason or another. And then I complicate matters by going flying and taking more pictures, but they have to be truly special to be added into the mix. I had a great flight a couple of weeks ago and added 4 images to the grouping! That will happen as we move closer to the exhibition. There will be an ebb and flow as new images get added, and the weaker ones are eliminated.

I started working with Carmen Wiedenhoeft in January of this year, and it has been a really nice process. She is interested in my background and identifying the various influences on my photography. She is a very gentle, thoughtful, and intelligent person and has given me the space to make the show mine. This has been really eye-opening for me since I tend to get caught up in the moment and don’t necessarily think about the big picture of how I got where I am now. It is only in the last month or so that we have started thinking about the images themselves, and I am getting very excited about the possibilities with the show.

Turquoise Reservoir, Deer Trail, CO, 2014

Turquoise Reservoir, Deer Trail, CO, 2014

Paul Weiner:
You mentioned the influence of man on the environment. What effects have you observed that human land use have had on Colorado’s eastern plains?

Evan Anderman:
I reached a turning point last summer when I realized firsthand that man has a great influence on the environment in eastern Colorado. I was camping out at the Pawnee Buttes, about an hour north of Greeley on the border with Wyoming. I had taken a hike and shot the sunset around the buttes, and it was a gorgeous evening to be out of Denver. On the drive up there from the south, I noticed all the oil-field activity and found that curious. Additionally, there is a vast wind farm on the buttes to the north of Pawnee that has been there for a number of years. The interesting part came when the sun set. I noticed that the wind turbines each have a blinking red light to keep airplanes from running into them. They all seem to blink in unison across miles of the horizon. And each of the oil wells had a very bright flare from burning off the natural gas that is produced with the oil. It is just not profitable to collect the gas, so they burn it right at the well head. I felt surrounded by all of this light pollution. It made me realize that even in what I thought was a very remote location, it is not so remote anymore. It struck me, and I made a panorama of this to remind me of that moment. I printed it out about 12 feet long and hung it in my studio. You can also see the glow of light from the various cities around that area, and there are ten airplanes in the sky, something I hadn’t noticed when I took the picture.

I don’t know why it was such an epiphany to me to realize that there is basically nothing untouched on the eastern plains. I guess it was a surprise because it is such a vast area, but anyway I’ve realized on all my various flights out there that every square inch has been used in some way.

Obviously agriculture is the predominant use, the cultivation and irrigation associated with farming. Those areas that are not conducive to cultivation are dedicated to grazing of livestock, the sand hills where I guess the soil is just too permeable to hold water or there isn’t water available. I’ve spent a lot of time on Google Maps looking at the satellite photo function. It’s interesting to see where the circles are from the pivot irrigation systems along the Platte and Arkansas rivers and their tributaries. The geology is largely responsible for that. But there’s also an interesting cluster in the northeast corner of the state between Wray and Yuma where the Ogallala Aquifer is. They seem to be irrigating the sand hills. The water must be so readily available that they can’t resist irrigating even though the soil is not the best. Where there’s not water to irrigate with, there is dry land farming, seen on the satellite photos as rectangles rather than circles. I think it covers a larger area of the state than the irrigated land.

Where there is grazing, there are also feedlots, and many of those are so big that they are visible on the satellite photos as well. There’s something about flying over a feedlot, the unnatural jet-black color of the soil that the animals walk on. It just can’t be good for any of us, the cows or humans. I have spent some time studying the photos I made of the various feedlots in northeastern Colorado because I find it fascinating. It is industrial architecture at a large scale. I’ve never been emboldened to talk to one of the feedlots to figure exactly what is happening, so that remains a mystery to me.

Finally, the energy industry has been busy with their various activities. There are a couple of new wind farms, and the oil industry has been very busy in Weld County.

Cultivation Boundaries, High Plains, CO, 2013

Cultivation Boundaries, High Plains, CO, 2013

Paul Weiner:
Seeing these photos of land usage seems to suggest a conversation on environmental politics. Do you find your work to have any inherent political undertones regarding land use and regulation or is the work more of a documentary than a political statement?

Evan Anderman:
I’m glad that you think my photographs would spark a conversation on environmental politics. That is the whole point of what I want to do with my work. I want to show you the beauty in these things and hopefully spark your interest to learn more about these parts of our society. But it is a complex conversation, and I do not have the background to make any conclusions about what is happening in my photographs. I leave that for the experts. I just want to start the conversation.

Drainage Layers, Badger Creek, CO, 2013

Drainage Layers, Badger Creek, CO, 2013

Paul Weiner:
A common trend in contemporary art is the intertwining of science and aesthetics. What is the ideal forum for your work to be displayed in? Would you rather see your work in a museum of science or art?

Evan Anderman:
I would like for my work to be seen in as broad a range of venues as possible, and I would love to hear the conversation that is started in each. I think that the art museum community would have a different take on my images than the science museum community. I look forward to having those conversations and hearing what people think.

Wanderings, Anton, CO, 2013.

Wanderings, Anton, CO, 2013.

Paul Weiner:
Aesthetically, what are a couple of your favorite geological or man-made structures to photograph?

Evan Anderman:
I love to photograph anything geologic, but I guess I am most fascinated by rivers and the forms they create as they drain the land. They are interesting at just about any scale, small or large. I also like to photograph icebergs and glaciers. I have traveled to both Antarctica and the Arctic and would go back to either in a heartbeat. They are surprisingly hard to photograph well, but you get to see some incredible shapes and forms as the ice reflects the light. I should admit that I have actually gotten bored of photographing icebergs on some of these cruises I’ve been on, especially in Greenland where I was distracted by the stunning geology in the Scoresby Sund Fjord complex on the east coast. Rodfjord was especially interesting. It looked like Ayers Rock rising out of the water. It was just incredible with the icebergs floating around in front of it. Now I really want to go back there as well.

Leftover Marks, Flagler, CO, 2014

Leftover Marks, Flagler, CO, 2014

Paul Weiner:
What are some of the technical challenges you’ve found when shooting from an airplane?

Evan Anderman:
It is hard shooting from the airplane because it is moving fast, and I don’t always have time to get the picture that I want. Just to be clear, I only photograph when I have the autopilot flying the airplane so I can divert my attention out the window. Obviously, my priority is to fly the airplane, and I keep an ear open to hear if there is anything unusual happening with the airplane. It generally lets you know. When I first started shooting from the plane, I used a 24-70 zooms lens, and that was difficult because it covers such a wide angle of view. I always shoot with a very high shutter speed and almost wide open aperture. You don’t need a lot of depth of field, but you want to minimize any effects from the motion. I moved on to a 70-200 lens to isolate the various elements that I would see on my flights. Lately, I’ve been shooting with an 80-400 lens, and I really love having all that range to get exactly the picture I want. It was a great investment.

Oval Drive, Beebe Draw, CO, 2014

Oval Drive, Beebe Draw, CO, 2014

Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about the Denver art scene. What are a few of your favorite galleries and artists to see in Denver?

Evan Anderman:
The Denver art scene is definitely up-and-coming, and there are a lot of exciting things happening. I was part of a group of people that helped convince the director of the Denver Art Museum to form a separate photography department in 2007. I was on the international search committee that hired the curator Eric Paddock, and he is celebrating his sixth anniversary this summer. The Denver Art Museum has a fairly new director, Christoph Heinrich, who has done wonders to really activate the museum, landing the Yves Saint Laurent show a couple of years ago and the Cartier show that will be opening this November. Denver is the only North American location for these shows. The Museum of Contemporary Art is a nice counterpoint to the art museum, under the very able leadership of Adam Lerner. We also have the Clyfford Still Museum, the Vance Kirkland Museum, and the Redline Art Center. All of these are located in downtown Denver.

As for the gallery scene, we have many different art districts in the city that provide lots of opportunities for artists to get their work in front of the public. My studio is located in Denver’s Art District on Santa Fe, and it has a very busy First Friday Art Walk. The Golden Triangle, Cherry Creek North, RiNo (for River North), and Highlands are some of the others.

I’ll just mention two specific galleries here. First, I am very excited that the Carmen Wiedenhoeft Gallery in RiNo will be having my first solo exhibition of my Imposition series opening September 12th. Also, my assistant Valerie Santerli has recently reopened the new Rule Gallery, and I have high hopes for the success of that gallery.


Please view Evan Anderman’s website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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JJ Brine’s VECTOR Gallery Explores Cultural Hybridity

VECTOR Gallery is among contemporary art’s foremost installation spaces, located at 40 Clinton Street in New York City and constructed by JJ Brine. The gallery operates in its own futuristic time zone as a means for disrupting reality within what Brine calls the PostHuman movement. VECTOR Gallery stands out from other avant garde installations as a space decoding cultural hybridity. VECTOR assimilates growing cultural movements under its PostHuman conceptual framework with an unabashed interplay between old and new as Brine intertwines religion and identity politics, the internet and physical space, colonial government structures and liberation, the future and the present.

Throughout the interview, Brine uses some terms that he has coined such as nevent, Alan, and antity. Please find definitions of these words in the VECTOR glossary. Further information about the concept behind VECTOR can be found in Brine’s artist statement and updates from the The Government of The Satanic State of VECTOR are also available online.

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Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about the way VECTOR Gallery and your title, Crown Prince of Hell, came to be.

JJ Brine:
Eye have had that title for as long as Eye can remember and VECTOR Gallery came into being when Eye embraced it.

Paul Weiner:
Many religious and pop culture references are made in your work, including a comparison of Charles Manson to Jesus. Could you describe the religious aspect of VECTOR Gallery?

JJ Brine:
VECTOR is itself a religion, and it manifests according to the observation of its own tenets. It reveals the nature(s) of all who engage it, and at the same time it reformats their nature(s) as it sees fit.

Paul Weiner:
Do you see your work as site-specific and strictly contained within VECTOR Gallery or are you open to exhibitions in other gallery spaces or museums?

JJ Brine:
Eye had a militantly site-specific policy for some time but Eye have developed an expansionistic agenda as of late. One recent manifestation of this is my PostHuman Mass Grave.

Paul Weiner:
Describe your PostHuman Mass Grave and how it came to be.

JJ Brine:
It is the Guarantor of the coming events. You have to bait the reality to make it bite.

Paul Weiner:
Could you describe a few of VECTOR’s religious tenets?

JJ Brine:
Shall Eye invert the entirety of Lord Universe in order to describe Lord Universe Itself? Everything is in alignment with its Antity. There is no need for semantic distinction between “is” and “becomes” when We know that everything is happening All at once – The Infinitoment. The AntiChrist is Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is The AntiChrist.

Paul Weiner:
Do you recruit new members to join VECTOR? How many followers do you have?

JJ Brine:
There are infinite ways to count to One, and there is One way to count to infinity. You might find me saying, in some other time and place: “Oh, but this was all prearranged, Baby.” And that would be true. But Eye have no need for followers, for Eye am herding neither cattle nor sheep! If We are to be together, forever, We need only share a passing thought. And in that thought the entire world is following me, and vice-versa.

Paul Weiner:
Would you like VECTOR to expand outside of New York City?

JJ Brine:
Do Eye have a choice? As if it could be contained…!

Paul Weiner:
Do you see your music and installations as aesthetically linked? Do you create them simultaneously?

JJ Brine:
They are different formats for One incantation.

Paul Weiner:
Do you consider VECTOR to be linked to an exploration of sexual identity?

JJ Brine:
VECTOR can be used as a prism for the exploration of any identity.

Paul Weiner:
Do you believe VECTOR is a forum to disrupt historical cultural norms and offer a new kind of history?

JJ Brine:
Yes.

Paul Weiner:
VECTOR Gallery recently hosted a PostHuman wedding. What other kinds of ceremonies or events does the gallery host?

JJ Brine:
We are linking up the beginning to the end, the end to the beginning. We serve the interests of infinity in its infinite forms. We are especially interested in hosting Nevents – events which cannot and will never take place.

Paul Weiner:
Anything you’d like to add?

JJ Brine:
The Satanic State of VECTOR is looking for attachés to appoint to the following territories: Japan, Tunisia, Yemen, China, Zimbabwe, India, Vanuatu, Sweden, Somalia, Argentina, Ethiopia, Azerbaijan, Russia, Brazil, Haiti, Indonesia, Suriname, Mexico, France, Germany, Syria, Lebanon, and Benin, among others. Please be in touch if you know that We are waiting to hear from you.

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Please view VECTOR Gallery’s website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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David Phillips Paints with the Spirit of the Contemporary American West

David Phillips is a painter from Tulsa, Oklahoma who is now working in Los Angeles, California. He has shown his work at a wide variety of venues including the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, Carnegie Hall, and the Downtown Art Center of Los Angeles. Phillips has been featured on CBS News and in the Los Angeles Times. His paintings can also be found on his website.

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Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about the way you started painting both physically and conceptually.

David Phillips:
I have the first painting I ever made framed inside my house. The painting is an abstract portrait painted in 1983. I was four years old. My grandmother was an oil painter in Oklahoma. She painted flowers, landscapes, and still life. She kept a studio inside her house. When my two younger brothers and I would visit, we would inevitably get into trouble. The adults would separate us into different rooms. I was always confined to the studio. I still remember the smell, the rags, the brushes. I was hooked.

wino-strut Bottles

Paul Weiner:
How did your habit of leaving your artwork places for others to find and take home come about?

David Phillips:
The act of leaving certain pieces of art around Los Angeles has manifested multiples times throughout my career. At first, my studio was simply too packed to hold any more materials. My studio is by the beach. I decided to take all the pages from my sketchbook and put them inside bottles as a take on a message in a bottle. The act of leaving art around town gained traction and became popular in my community. The initial project propagated larger works such as found sculptures and public installations. As of now, I think such public works ran their course, and I no longer do such things.

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Paul Weiner:
Describe your transition from Tulsa, Oklahoma to Venice, California. How was your artwork altered by the move?

David Phillips:
I believe a professional artist must live in a large city. You have to be around the galleries and museums you wish to show. You have to be next to a large market. You have to be directly in the vice grip of struggle. You have to be completely absorbed by the frenetic. Now, I am referring to the artist at the beginning of his career. I am referring to the artist who wants to be collected on a grand scale and be inside major museums, the artist who wants a permanent stamp inside art history. Look at the major contemporary artists post-WWII: Pollock, Guston, Still, Twombly, De Kooning, Rauschenberg, Schnabel, Ruscha, Bacon. The list is endless.

I love Oklahoma. I painted there for years. When I painted in Oklahoma, I painted wildlife. The images I made were more photo recreation or realism. I practiced religiously. I honed my technique. I used oil paints as per their intention, but the paintings fell flat. I had no understanding of the psychological impact of color. I didn’t understand automatism or experimentation. Moving to Los Angeles opened up Pandora’s Box for me artistically. Of course contributing factors such as age, life experience, and maturity come into play. Los Angeles allowed me to live by my terms and become my true self. I completely submersed myself into the life of an artist, a real artist constantly experimenting, always progressing. I completely gainsay the pictorial, the symbolic, the illustrative, and the ever-feared ‘decorative’. I deny the theory that painting has been completely deconstructed. I deny that the contemporary image cannot progress. A new art can still be made. I will die trying to make it.

Kung Fu

Paul Weiner:
Thinking about art markets today, how happy are you with your time around Los Angeles? Would you choose Los Angeles over New York City?

David Phillips:
Whew. Well, that is a question I’d prefer to answer over lots of beer and whiskey. I think a majority of the art in Los Angeles is horrendous. A very large percentage of the artists are “street artists” or have an urban/hip hop vibe that spotlights the twerps making it rather than the actual work. I suppose this is a popular trend in art right now regardless of region, but it is especially prevalent in Los Angeles. The most important lesson to learn by that is to just stick to your vision. Simply put, do not worry for one second what other emerging ‘artists’ are doing. Study your influences relentlessly, and try to stick to your singular vision as an artist. Hone your craft to master prestige. One good thing about having a shitty trend like “street art” being popular is that means there are people with disposable income who are willing to buy. Therefore, it may be slightly easier to sell a picture that was handmade with proper technique. I am continually blown away at the amount of artists in Los Angeles who do not make their own canvas or material. It’s mind blowing. They do not realize that a picture painted on a pre-made, store bought canvas is complete bullshit. If the canvas is pre-made, then the end resulting painting is a collaboration between the artist and the art store. Period. The piece of art’s bio should include “Collaboration Between _____(artist) and Blick Art Supplies” or “Collaboration Between _____(artist) and Hobby Lobby”. They will learn very quickly when they try to get a piece in a respectable museum. I’ve also noticed a majority of artists in Los Angeles do not mix their own colors. They typically paint straight out of the tube.

I love Los Angeles. I love the weather (who wouldn’t?), the beaches, the women, fuck, everything about it. It’s the greatest city in the world in my opinion. The people ruin it, but they can’t take away the great weather and cool vibe. I definitely believe things happen quicker in New York, of course. New York artists also have the luxury of history. When Peggy Guggenheim decided to leave Paris and bring the surrealists to New York, that was it, done and done. The new art world epicenter became New York. Los Angeles will always be on the coattails of that fact. However, that does not mean a new art cannot be made here or important artists won’t prevail. We have numerous examples of very important artists here: Baldessari, Larry Bell, Peter Lodato, Billy Al Bengston, Robert Irwin, James Turrell, etc. From a market standpoint, LA has the advantage of population. We have almost 2 million more people than New York City.

Acid_noir_16x20_oil_on_Canvas_by_David_Phillips

Paul Weiner:
Working seriously in abstraction today can be difficult since the market is so saturated, and so many painters are focused on making abstract paintings purely as commercial objects to be sold. How do you set yourself apart from the crowd of abstract expressionists?

David Phillips:
Well if any artist sets out to create work only to sell,good luck. Don’t get me wrong. An artist obviously needs money just like anybody else needs money. The separating factor is that the need to create the art, the drive, has to be so strong that it supersedes money. Thus, I don’t know how much I believe artists are created. Personally, I think they are born. If the need or will to create is that strong, it means it has been practiced since, well, almost birth. Therefore, once the artists reaches an age of independence or adulthood, the work should be strong enough to warrant sales. Yes, this may alienate the weekend painter or hobbyist, but it draws a very distinct line in the sand between a person who has created or painted his whole life versus a person who wishes he could paint to make money and leave his job. Therefore, I set myself apart in a very major way by being a full-time artist with a working studio. Now, to make it even more niche, I am not just an abstract expressionists. I make abstract paintings, but I also paint realism and portraits, and I make films, music videos, collage pieces, and sculpture. There is an overlaying style or look that I suppose would be recognizable to some, and that is what it is. Different people have called it different things such as avant garde, conceptual, or abstract expressionism. At the end of the day, I just execute whatever idea or build whatever it is I want to accomplish. After that, it’s pretty much out of my hands.

Springtime_in-the_Bars

Paul Weiner:
Museums and collectors have long been fascinated by artists of the American West. Despite differences in style from many of the popular realist Western artists, do you feel that you are the contemporary manifestation of a Western painter?

David Phillips:
I am the contemporary American West.

The_Dead_Gallop_David_Phillips

Paul Weiner:
Do you feel as if artists are properly valued in American society?

David Phillips:
I do feel that artists are properly valued in America. The problem is that it is the wrong artists. You have to be very careful with art because it is a career where hard work might not pay off. The American public has mistaken gimmick for talent. A majority of today’s most celebrated living artists have achieved success through gimmick rather than practice, study, or hard work. You have a guy who screen prints a Ronald McDonald all over town, then you have another guy who picks Count Dracula. This is not art. This is gimmick. Don’t get me wrong. The allure of fame, consistent art sales, and major shows is enough to attract any artist. Now, imagine if De Kooning were alive today and saw that. He was an immigrant who had to sneak his way into the United States on his 13th try. Then he lived through a depression as an artist! Then he navigated his way through the gallery scene with an academic education equivalent of the eighth grade. Imagine he sees the successful or selling artists today. He would pass out, either from laughter or rage. I do feel America has the propensity to properly value an artist. It is simply misguided. It will change over time, just as most fads do.

DIGITAL CAMERA

Paul Weiner:
You’ve spoken about your perception of artists who use colors straight from the tube and pre-made canvas as making inferior work. Some artists and critics might critique these tools as being the impact of a quasi-capitalist art market where corporations create the tools artists use and corporate collections (e.g. Deutsche Bank, Progressive, Bank of America, and JPMorgan Chase) buy the resulting art. To what extent do you find the use of pre-made materials an ethical dilemma versus an aesthetic one?

David Phillips:
Well, of course there is a huge, huge beauty in a fresh tube of cadmium red, and of course there is nothing wrong with using that red straight out of the tube as long as the artist’s intentional vision justifies the usage. I suppose I was referring to the artists simply making art to sell. I do stand by the thesis that artists should create art as handmade as possible. This gives the artist control over shape, size, coarseness, etc, which, in turn, executes the artist’s vision more precisely. I remember watching the “Who The Fuck is Jackson Pollock?” documentary years ago. I remember by just watching the movie, which included many scholars, and thinking, “How the fuck do they not know that this is not his painting?” I could tell through a goddamn television screen. The pink in the painting was not his pink. The paint used was not enamel or anything close to what he used. The canvas wasn’t built by him. Look at the edges. The answer was in the materials, not the style.

Boogie

Paul Weiner:
Is your goal in painting to create artwork that clearly communicates your perception or is it to evoke a sublime reaction to yourself and your viewers?

David Phillips:
I don’t know how much of a goal I have with any painting. I try not to think about any particular person or client. This would certainly influence the outcome, and it gets back to the art versus commerce debate. I suppose the only goal would be to capture the feeling or essence of any particular object I am painting. I do not paint the apple. I paint what the apple taste like. I paint what would happen if the apple was pissed off or hurt. Of course, any painter would love to evoke a sublime reaction to a viewer. That is probably the best result!

DIGITAL CAMERA

Paul Weiner:
Many abstract artists have struggled with creating titles, leading some to go so far as to use dates or numerical systems as titles. How do you go about titling a painting and how do you feel about the practice of artists who sign their paintings?

David Phillips:
When you are creating paintings at a very fast rate or high capacity, inevitably you run out of titles. Also, using dates or “Untitled” allows viewers to have their own relationships and create their own stories to a piece. Personally, I enjoy titling each piece, and I feel it is as important to the painting as the materials or subject. I totally get that not all artists create this way. I use the title like poetry. The intention is to only enhance the piece, which would strike all sorts of debate like “Why does the piece need enhancing?” A very simple answer to that would be that it is fun. I constantly write while I work, Sometimes just phrases, sometimes short stories, sometimes just word associations. I’ve found this helps with the frequency of ideas.

I typically do not sign my pieces on the front. My only rule for that is if it adds to the picture, I will sign it. However, a majority of the time, a signature would simply intrude on the composition I just spent 2 weeks or a month making. Therefore, I would never compromise the face of a picture.


Please view David Phillips’s work on his website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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Ivan Jenson Blends Painting and Poetry

Ivan Jenson is a pop art painter and contemporary poet whose artwork was featured in Art in America, Art News, and Interview Magazine while selling at auction at Christie’s. Jenson was commissioned by Absolut Vodka to make a painting titled “Absolut Jenson” for the brand’s national ad campaign, and his “Marlboro Man” was collected by the Philip Morris corporate collection. Jenson was commissioned to paint the final portrait of the late Malcolm Forbes before his death. He also wrote two novels, Dead Artist and Seeing Soriah, both of which illustrate the creative and often dramatic lives of artists. Jenson turned to poetry as an outlet for artistic expression, and he is now a prolific writer who is widely published in a variety of literary media. Jenson’s poems were recently published by Hen House Press in a book titled Media Child and Other Poems, which can be acquired on Amazon.

media child


Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about your history as an artist, writer, and poet. What are some of your greatest accomplishments?

Ivan Jenson:
I came from an artistic family in Los Angeles, and we were encouraged to be creative from an early age. I became obsessed with Michelangelo and Renaissance art at around nine years old. I used to check out sixteen millimeter films from the library about Michelangelo and screen them for myself for hours on end. I made a sculpture at age nine in Costa Rica that was used as a poster for a national exhibit. I then discovered Carl Sandburg, Walt Whitman, and Dylan Thomas at thirteen and began to write. I wrote movie reviews for the Valley News and Green Sheet at that age.

Then we moved to Bloomington, Indiana, where I gave some of my early poems to an English teacher in Junior High School, and he read them over the weekend. On Monday, he made a speech to the class and said, “Ivan Jenson is not only a better writer than me or any other teacher in this school, he is also better than any student here because he has something which cannot be taught. He has the gift of a poet.” My early poems where published in magazines in Indiana. I also wrote my first novel at thirteen after a vivid experience of a summer spent studying art in San Jose, Costa Rica. It was a coming of age story called Walking Wounded, and Delacorte Press wrote me that they thought it was “Catcher in the Rye times five.” Other editors said it was, “raw and brutal.” My father gave a few chapters to Ray Bradbury to read, and he sent me a letter which said I wrote better than he did until he was 30.

My family moved to New York city, where I briefly studied at the Art Students League where I was told that the artist’s life is a lonely one. I consider myself self-taught in both art and writing. My big break came when I hung my paintings on paper with paper clips in Times Square and became an overnight success. Everything I made sold instantly and I was able to quit my job as a caterer for weddings and move into Manhattan at age 20. It was perfect timing because I was catching, and riding the crest of, an art wave hitting downtown New York City in the mid 80s.

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My early career was far from lonely. Though I painted for hours alone, as soon as I was done with the paintings, they were trucked off to East Village galleries and all the top night clubs in the City including the famous Palladium, where my art was seen during a Whitney centennial exhibit featuring East Village Artists. Every single painting I have made has sold. Soon after, I was commissioned by Absolut Vodka to create my own Absolut Jenson painting, which was featured full page in Art News, Art in America, Interview, and other top international magazines. I now shared the same ad campaign gig as Andy Warhol. Later, I sold my most expensive painting. It was of the Marlboro Man, and I sold it to Philip Morris. I befriended Malcolm Forbes, and I was invited aboard the famed Forbes Highlander Yacht to draw my trademark pop art portraits of the “Who’s Who” of the corporate world. I painted the last commissioned portrait of Malcolm Forbes.

Fast forward through the nineties. I continued to make my living as an artist, but little did I know I was gathering material for an unexpected literary career that was brewing inside me. I left New York in 2004 after personal and career burnout and found myself feeling lost in Grand Rapids, Michigan. But then, after a year of culture shock from the change to a much slower pace, I joined a writer’s group. At first, I brought in some unfinished fiction, and after receiving great feedback, I quickly made up for lost time and furiously wrote a series of novels as well as poetry. A girlfriend of mine at the time told me my poetry was as good as anything out there, and so, on a whim, I submitted to three magazines. Well, I forgot all about it, thinking it would lead nowhere, until a few weeks later all three poems were accepted for publication with glowing letters from the editors of the magazines. So I submitted more and got accepted again. Within three months, I was already published by some of the top ten online literary magazines in the country. I became addicted to writing poetry and seeing them published. Now, I have two novels published, Dead Artist and Seeing Soriah both published by Hen House Press, New York, close to five hundred poems published, and a book of poems called Media Child and Other Poems soon to be published also by Hen House Press.

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Paul Weiner:
Do you see your poetry and painting as being intertwined?

Ivan Jenson:
For me, they are very different. My paintings are all about a mix of classical and contemporary aesthetics, bold line, color, and structural balance. Other more painterly works are all about the romance of painting and its texture. But I can say that my adventures and misadventures as an artist living and working and loving in the trenches of downtown New York City for twenty years has given me an endless gold mine of material for my novels and my poetry. I am including my line drawings in my new book of poems.

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Paul Weiner:
As someone who has experienced the New York art world, do you feel as if New York City is a conducive place for artists to make new work?

Ivan Jenson:
For me, it was. My whole career was born when I first sold my art in Times Square, The Upper West Side, Soho, and Union Square. I got to meet, first hand, all my collectors. The streets were my living, breathing internet, and from all that networking, I met the important lawyers, gallery owners, club owners, and VIP collectors. I think that people still love to purchase a painting from a genuine New York City artist. But now New York is so expensive, I don’t see how an artist starting out could afford the overhead unless that artist had half a dozen roommates. My only roommates were the women who lived with me.

Now, for me, living in Grand Rapids, the internet is my new version of New York. I would say that the internet is now a virtual New York City. Thanks to e-mail, I can submit my poems with ease, and they instantaneously zip over to the literary sites. Then, when my poetry is shared on Twitter and Facebook, it is exposed to thousands of readers. I may not live in New York anymore, but New York lives in me. I still walk fast, and I maintain that driven inner pace, and, when I am working, I write often to the beat of Electronica music. And yet, living away from New York City has given me perspective on that seductively fast lifestyle, and coming from New York City has given me perspective on the wonderful subtleties of the Midwest. My novels, Seeing Soriah and Dead Artist, both take place in a fictional city called Gold Haven, Michigan, and key scenes take place in New York City.

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Paul Weiner:
You mentioned that a lot of your material comes from your time as an artist in New York City. What are some other common themes that show up in your poetry throughout Media Child and Other Poems?

Ivan Jenson:
My debut poetry book is a comprehensive collection of my poems written over the last four and a half years when this whole magical renewal of my creative life began. It was all so new and exciting, yet the words and the images fell right into place with immediacy and ease. Nothing was forced; it all just flowed. Every day was a new discovery of what was possible for me in poetry. I dedicated myself to writing at least a poem a day and then reading them aloud to my writer’s group and then unabashedly sending them off. It was a formula that worked famously and which I enjoyed immensely. Some of the poems in my book are autobiographical flashbacks to my East Village days. Through my poetry, I was to find form and meaning behind my former fast-paced lifestyle. It was not long into my newfound poetry career that wordplay appeared in my poems.

Now, I am a quick study, and once I realized I was onto something unexpected and wonderful, I grew in leaps and bounds. There was a phenomena going on both inside and outside of me. Here I was, drawing from my experience, my neurosis, my heartache, my highs and lows, and yet I was treating them with a lightness of touch and never forgot to add wit and universal punch lines to the mix. As I read aloud my poems at my writer’s group I learned that there was power in my knack for humor. Then I began to spin on common phrases, colloquialisms, clichés, and I soon drew from the media as well. Next came a cast of characters including celebrities or brand names, TV shows from Gilligan’s Island to Star Trek, and public figures from Jung to Joan Rivers and Chaplin. They just all showed up unannounced in my stanzas like a profound parade of self-styled product placement. I went as far as to title one of my most popular poems “Name Dropping.”

My poems are designed to work on the page as well as live, and I treated my writer’s group as a training ground for how to act out and really sell my poems in performance. And, soon enough, I was invited to perform them at theaters, bookstore poetry readings, or at the fancy homes of the “Who’s Who” of Grand Rapids. I was always pleased to get laughter right on cue where I wanted it, as if I were a stand up comic. And yet, through the laughter, I knew that the deeper meanings were still coming through. Not only do I make sure my poems open up with a hook, but then I take the reader or listener on a visceral ride and a public display of my deepest fears, phobias, and foibles in a metaphorical mash up with movie stars, literary icons, historic figures, and late night talk show hosts. Then I keep juggling on those phrases we have heard all our lives, and yet I give them new and sometimes twisted twists.

I never knew I had this treasure trove of verbal Americana stowed up inside of me. And yet it all channels through me, with a detailed structure, polyrhythm, sometimes multiple inner rhymes. Some poems are like monologues spoken by characters in a play or a scene from Film Noir. Others are snapshot memories, and others are like short films. My poems have been turned into short films by a talented filmmaker named Cassidy Bisher. He is currently adapting a poem I wrote especially for his production company. Its theme is nostalgia and the passage of time. The film will feature time lapse photography set against the spoken words of my poem. Obviously, this is a dream come true to see my poetry become cinema.

Note To Self a poem by Ivan Jenson

The Way It Should Be a poem by Ivan Jenson

Midwest Juliet a poem by Ivan Jenson

Paul Weiner:
Has your painting style changed at all since you made the move to Michigan?

Ivan Jenson:
Since I moved to Michigan, my paintings have become so much more complex. When I depict van Gogh, as I often do, the paintings have become mosaics, puzzles of color where each color contrasts or has to answer to the color next to it. I am in as good form as ever here in Michigan as I was in my studio in New York City. I turn on urban R and B music, and I fall into cadence with my colors. My Michigan studio is quite big, and I can make a nine foot by nine foot paintings and feel myself engulfed in the vastness of the canvas. When I take a break and turn the music off, I hear the crickets and the birds at night, and then I carry my bucket of brushes through the backyard in the night with the moon shining, and I feel like the expatriate artist, like Gauguin who has found a slice of paradise far from the chiseled edges and the blazingly bright video advertisements of Times Square.

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Paul Weiner:
I like the idea of the internet being a virtual New York City. What are a few of your favorite web sites that have helped you use the internet to make your work public?

Ivan Jenson:
I have to be frank with you here and say that each morning, when I approach my computer screen with a cup of Starbucks in hand and just the right music playing on iTunes, I am truly reaching through the screen and grasping digital opportunities by the dozen. Google is my tool, and my hard drive is the fire of my inner drive which has never burned out. I am not at liberty to give out my self-styled, highly secretive, and self-developed tricks of the internet trade. But I will be candid and say that my transformation into a writer did not happen by accident.

I do not follow the usual format of submission. If there are standard systems or rules out there on How to Become a Published Author or Poet, well, then I have broken them all. Some of my poems have even been published in multiple publications. But I have never heard of a poet being put to jail for that free-verse transgression. I learned early that I must not only be a fountain of creativity, but that I have to also be a viral, guerrilla marketing maven as well. Usually, getting hyped up on caffeine and diet Coke makes me so ambitious that the pupils of my eyes dilate behind my glasses and I simply will it all to happen.

I admit I am addicted to getting e-mails of acceptance letters from publishers, literary magazines, filmmakers, ect, but to get that I must cast my net on the internet. My confidence comes from knowing that my angst and my ecstasy of words is loved and appreciated by the public and by the always wonderful embrace of literary circles. I am eternally grateful to the editors of online and print magazines and anthologies who have been so generous and receptive of my works from day one. For a creative person, knowing that you have something special is not enough; you must show the world your poems, your novels, your paintings, your sculptures, your quips, your funny asides, your best tragic mask, your pointed dress shoes and observations, your new pair of New Balance shoes, your trendy five o’clock stubble, your smile. And then you must wait, and if you are lucky, the world will answer back with an astounding, “Yes!”

“Name Dropping”

I am trying to be Gandhi about this
But sometimes you make me so Mussolini
You think you are so very Jesus
But really you are much more Britney
Than Mother Teresa
Sure you Isadora Duncan into a room
With your Betty Davis lies
And you expect me to
Cyrano De Bergerac
You on the phone
Or Shakespeare up my e-mails
But I’m just John Doe
I’m no James Dean or Citizen Kane
The point is I want to be
Romeo to your Juliet
I want us to John and Yoko till the end
I want our children to
Be Mickey Rooney and Shirley Temple
In the afternoons
I want them to be Dorothy and Toto
Near a rainbow
I want to be Mr. Brady
and you to be mother Maude
And though I’m no Tiger or Agassi
I still want my boys to be
little Eli Mannings
and the girls will be so Serena or Venus
Look I’ll never be a Bill Gates provider
and you’re no Keira Knightley in our quick-snaps
But still, when I see you I want to
Larry King you with questions
and Oprah you with compassion
We used to be so Brad and Angelina
But now we’ve become so Limbaugh and Obama
Guess it will be this way
until we are old and Castro gray

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Paul Weiner:
Is Vincent van Gogh an inspiration for you? Which artists and poets have influenced your work the most over the years?

Ivan Jenson:
Van Gogh is both an inspiration and a concern of mine. I first discovered van Gogh in a calendar in an elementary school classroom, and his vivid yellows and oranges, his use of thick paint seemed to be beckoning to only me. The childlike naiveté and the intensity of his works spoke to me. Van Gogh is a contemporary character along with Picasso in my novel, Dead Artist. In the novel, the artist protagonist, Milo Sonas, sees dead artists. He gets supernatual visitations from these two artists. Each artist represents a different spectrum of artistic recognition. Here we have Picasso, millionaire, South of France mansion owner, and a life filled with societal accolades and many younger wives and sensual mistresses, and then we have the troubled legend of van Gogh, loner, misunderstood, mad, loveless and an artist who never sold a single painting. In my novel, Dead Artist, I even the score and Van Gogh gets a second chance in the modern world when a young college coed sets van Gogh up with her best friend, a girl who is a van Gogh fanatic, who becomes the love of Vincent’s afterlife. In my novel, van Gogh finds love, and he gets to watch from another dimension as his paintings sell for astronomical figures. This is my artistic and poetic justice.

My foremost influence has always been Picasso. I was fascinated by him as a teen, and it was a thrill to know in the 70s that he was living and painting in sandals, shorts and fedora hats in the South of France. Here was a man who could have traveled or lived a life of luxurious leisure, but, instead, he chose to burn the midnight oil of his talent by painting all night long. He chose to spend a lion’s share of his ferocious ability exploring the safari of his artistic abilities alone in his studio. From an early age, I acquired this sort of prolific work ethic. On Mondays in New York City, I would always ritualistically begin a new series of paintings. As for poetry, I have loved Richard Brautigan for his whimsy. I loved Dylan Thoma’s rich Welch delivery of his poetry. And I loved how Walt Whitman stole from the Bible the many wonders of using the word “and”. I am not too proud to proclaim that I was infatuated with the melancholic and sometimes sentimental spell that Rod Mckuen had over the publishing world in the 70s. I let that dream go when I became an artist, but, as fate would have it, I was to become a poet after all.

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Paul Weiner:
Visual artists are always trying to find innovative ways of working. Today, many new media artists have taken to the web as an opportunity to program web sites that function as artwork. As someone who avidly uses the internet as a powerful marketing tool, do you think the internet is also a potential medium for the creation of visual art?

Ivan Jenson:
People today fall in love because of dating web sites; friends who have lost touch are virtual friends again because of Facebook, and so on. I hear all the time of artists using programs to paint. As a messy artist who lived in an apartment that was splattered with Jackson Pollock drips of color wherever you looked, I will be the first in line to work with virtual art supplies that don’t make a mess. And, of course electronic brushes that don’t have to be washed would be wonderful. Yet, as an artist with one foot in the 20th and the other in the 21st Century, I will always pour out my paint on plates and paint on canvas, if only to keep my spiritual connection with Vincent and Pablo alive. Who knows, maybe one day I will paint on my Mac and e-mail the file to multiple galleries in Paris, London and New York who will then display my art on sleekly framed canvas simulating monitors. And I will appear at the opening night of my international solo exhibits as a hologram of an artist with a glass of Chardonnay in his hand.


Please view Ivan Jenson’s work on his website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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Olivia Boi’s Intuitive Abstract Paintings

Olivia Boi is an artist whose work hinges on the emotional abstraction of the human form. Boi has exhibited in The Last Brucennial and multiple exhibitions in Sideshow Gallery as well as a wide variety of local galleries throughout Massachusetts. Having recently graduated with a BFA from Montserrat College of Art in 2013, she participated in the orientation week of the New York Arts Practicum at the same time as fellow Critique Collective interviewee, Corey Dunlap. Boi’s work is also available for view on her website.

Dancing with You 2014

Dancing with You, 60″x108″, acrylic paint on canvas, 2014


Paul Weiner:
Given the rise of new media artists working with all kinds of digital tools, how inclusive does the art world seem for young painters like you right now?

Olivia Boi:
Well, it is challenging for myself and my friends as recent graduates of art school. Mostly, I believe it is important to be consistent with the motivation in your process as a painter. You have to continually put yourself in a position to be aware of what is going on around you in the art world. It is crucial to share your work with the public and talk about it with as many people as possible. That being said, I strongly feel that there is an urgency for painting in the art world today, and artists will respond to that. The success of the artist is based on the artist’s needs and goals, whether they are new media artists or painters, and it is always a struggle.

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In the Bathtub, 42″x42″, acrylic paint on canvas, 2013

Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little bit about how you begin a new work of art both conceptually and physically.

Olivia Boi:
I start a new work when I feel compelled to relay something I have experienced or seen into a more permanent state. It all starts out pretty overwhelming, but it is a familiar chaos that is my starting point. I get this feeling, and I don’t want to do anything else except to start figuring out this painting, to work. I first ask myself about the scale, and then I usually mix a palette based on my sensations to start at that. I lay out some general lines and movements from which I’d like to build. It is a really intuitive process that is different every time I start or revisit a piece. I work in layers according to color, to work out some internal logic of the painting. Lately, I have been favoring paint heavily, making up most of my practice. I am inspired by the figure and how it can be abstracted and reinterpreted. Currently, I am working on a series of scrolls that are meant to hang all together, and right now I have about 9 of them, each 43” x 84”. Usually, when I am considering a painting, I think of myself physically in my studio. My space is an area where I can leave everything the way it is as I am done working. I am very particular about my work environment in order to set up my work ethic. It needs to feel lived in, to generate a fluid spatial movement that allows a sort of meditative quality to my work. When I paint, I feel like I come in contact with another side of myself that is never brought out otherwise.

The Night of December 25th- 2014

The Night of December 25th, 43″x84″, Charcoal and Oil Stick on Paper, 2014

Paul Weiner:
How did your experience with New York Arts Practicum impact your life as an artist?

Olivia Boi:
After I left the program, I became more grounded both as an individual and an artist, which was, in part, due to my experience attending Practicum. I am very interested in showing my work in New York City, and I have been exhibiting there for the past three years, notably at the Side Show gallery in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Currently, I have a painting in The Last Brucennial, a biennial survey put on by the Bruce High Quality Foundation in Manhattan. I am really proud about that, especially about showing next to legendary artists such as Joan Mitchell. I realized at this point in time in my life, I am happy to work in New York without living there. I would like to get to things on my own time and by doing them my own way.

holding on to the blue 2014

Holding on to Blue, 48″x64″, acrylic paint on canvas, 2013

Paul Weiner:
In your paintings, do you focus primarily on the formal aesthetic concerns of composition or are there more conceptual reasons behind your work?

Olivia Boi:
The main focus in my work is composition through color, line, and form. You could say my work is conceptual in its contingency through my daily life. By that, I mean I investigate my own emotions, intensities, and desires in each piece through a formalist language of paint.

Each painting is made up of constant decision making, meaning I don’t know what it will look like until I have worked through everything. It is a visual conversation I have with the work in my studio.

Standing on My Own 2014

Standing on My Own, 30″x78″, oil stick, acrylic paint, and charcoal on paper, 2014

Paul Weiner:
Do you consider yourself an abstract expressionist or are you using abstraction as a medium for a different kind of thinking than modern masters like De Kooning and Pollock?

Olivia Boi:
I am very inspired by the abstract expressionists. I think that studying their work has created a path for my artistic practice. De Kooning and Pollock are two of my favorites. They used abstraction as a medium, as a language. Obviously, I don’t have the same concerns as they did in the 1950′s in New York, but I admire their unique and intense visual language, and I’m looking to create my own. It has to do with a love of and a need to paint. My current work definitely has a relationship to Abstract Expressionism, and it can be understood through similar formal concerns, but I’m not looking to make my work look like theirs. They are an inspiration among many others.

hearing about everyone elsecrop

Hearing About Everyone Else, 60″x64″, acrylic paint on canvas, 2013

Paul Weiner:
You mentioned that you took part in the last Brucennial. Tell us a little about your experience with that exhibition.

Olivia Boi:
I was invited into the last Brucennial by girlfriend Sara Benson. She attended the Yale Norfolk Art program. She was invited by a friend of hers, and Sara then invited me.

I shipped my painting to New York from Beverly, MA. I didn’t know how many people were going to be in the show, and I had no idea that the work of Joan Mitchell, Cecily Brown, and Louise Bourgeois would be included as well. They are some of my top favorite painters, and to exhibit my work with theirs was a huge honor. I submitted a small, 16 x 20 inches, painting called Separation, which consists of a light green and black palette. I was not able to get down to see it in person, but my father attended and documented the exhibition for me. I feel really lucky and proud to be included in that amazing experience.

Paul Weiner:
As a young artist, what kinds of publications do you read?

Olivia Boi:
I read publications such as Art in America, New American Paintings, Artforum, Sculpture Magazine, and The Brooklyn Rail.

My Parents Marriage 2013crop

My Parents Marriage, 74″x66″, acrylic paint on canvas, 2013

Paul Weiner:
To what extent do you find art education important for contemporary artists, both on the undergraduate and graduate levels?

Olivia Boi:
It is important to have an education about art so you can understand the context your work exists in. There is so much to know. You can go to school and study contemporary art theory and history or you could choose to not go to school and try to educate yourself in the same topics. I think it would be really challenging to learn everything school has to offer on your own. Either way, it is up to your personal motivations because there is so much to learn, even for people who have completed both undergraduate and graduate studies. It is important to educate yourself about everything you can as an artist, which is separate from pursuing a masters of the fine art world. But I think that education in art and studying art history is crucial to a career. It is necessary to know about the people who have practiced this kind of work and theory before you so that your work can be included in the larger conversation. It is important to see other artists’ work
and specifically how they work; it can help shape your own practice. You really have to read and watch everything you can get your hands on, including documentaries and biographies. Education is not an option. It is expected. You need to know what you are talking about to be taken seriously.


Please view Olivia Boi’s work on her website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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David DiLillo’s Documentary Investigation of Nick Drake’s Hometown

David DiLillo’s multimedia artwork has been included in exhibitions at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), Calumet Photographic, Anthology Film Archives, Museum of the City of New York, State of the Art Gallery in Ithaca, Bottleneck Gallery in Brooklyn, Art Takes Times Square, Liverpool Lift-Off Film Festival, on SICTV, and in a wide variety of other galleries, festivals, and publications. He also works as an art instructor and as the Co-Founder/Co-Director of Aquehonga Cinema, a Staten Island community film series. During his interview on Critique Collective, DiLillo illustrates his recent trek to Tanworth-in-Arden, where he documented the town that cult-music icon Nick Drake lived in. Further images of DiLillo’s artwork can be found on his website.

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Three Hours From London; Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire

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Three Hours From London; Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire


Paul Weiner:
When did you originally find your interest in working as a multimedia artist?

David DiLillo:
The exact point in time is hard to pin down. I’ve been shooting photographs since middle school and drawing long before that. I’m immensely lucky and proud to come from a family of photographers and painters on both sides. They taught me that visual art is not only an important act of expression but also a form of preservation. I grew friendlier with a slew of diverse artists during my time in school and beyond who fiendishly got me involved in film production, sculpture, humor illustration, and other mediums. I love creative collaboration, but I also have an often-overwhelming amount of interests and passions, so I try to have my hands in many projects at once.

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Three Hours From London; Wilmcote Station, Warwickshire

Paul Weiner:
Who is Nick Drake, and how has his music impacted you?

David DiLillo:
When a close friend first showed me Nick’s music years ago, I devoured it obsessively only to find myself continually rediscovering new layers up to this day. Nick Drake was born in 1948 in Burma and grew up in Tanworth-in-Arden, a small hamlet in Warwickshire, England. His music never gained the recognition or visibility he desired, and he was eventually stricken with depression. Nick mysteriously died from an antidepressant overdose at the age of 26.

You can read a lot about the details, either known or rumored, about his tragically short life, about how he didn’t quite fit into rigid British norms of the time. What speaks to me most is this: Nick had an almost mystical ability to communicate timeless meditations on love and nature, and I’m one of many who deeply relates to his thoughts and struggles. But I believe he was just trying to share his mind and heart with others in the best way he knew how. His music never gained the audience and response that it deserved, and he was eventually overcome with depression. His lyrics shifted between cryptic psalms and beautifully descriptive accounts, and his guitar style blended English folk, American blues, and even Eastern tonality later on. Nick’s fragile music and words of romance and universal connection have consistently given me new eyes to see myself and the world.

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Three Hours From London; Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire

Paul Weiner:
Do you consider your Three Hours from London series to be a documentary, narrative, or more conceptual sort of project?

David DiLillo:
The phrase Three Hours from London comes from one of Nick’s darker songs about escape. Interestingly enough, it took me about three hours by train to get to Tanworth-in-Arden from the English capital. When I stayed in the village, I solely listened to Nick’s music and shot without a strict objective in mind, which was a bit non-academic and liberating. I was writing, too, but the series is a very personal visual journal of sorts. It can act as a narrative if certain lyrics of Nick’s are paired with particular images, and it can act as a documentary piece about the town and surrounding areas. I shot in black and white to evoke the time in which Nick lived, though – to use another of Nick’s lyrics, a time of no reply. By visiting Nick’s final resting place, I had the chance to bridge the chasm of decades and feel like I was meeting him.

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Three Hours From London; Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire

Paul Weiner:
I like the idea of trying meet a dead artist and experience the town he lived in. When you were in Tanworth-in-Arden, did you meet and discuss Nick Drake with any of the locals or was this more of an immersive experience of everyday life in the village?

David DiLillo:
I spent a large amount of time hiking the area in solitude, unplugged from most technology and my common distractions. I attempted simply to observe and document what was around me – the shades of leaves in the afternoon, the sounds of children playing in the distance, the brushes of wind from the hills. My immersion seemed sacred, familiar, and rustic all at once. It reminded me of Nick’s songs of isolation. This wasn’t a negative feeling but more a type of connection with the graves and green pastures and people around me. In a strange and welcoming way, this demystified the idea of idolizing a musician whom I’ll never truly know and instead helped me to deepen my understanding of him as a young man who lived a vibrantly creative but far too short life.

I was also completely warmed by meeting and talking to those who lived and worked in town. They were brilliantly and immeasurably kind-hearted, open-minded people. Many patrons at the inn heard my accent and might have assumed that I had come to visit Nick Drake, the singer buried among their many other loved ones and friends. One day, in the cemetery, I met a man sitting on a bench close to me where his wife and he used to sit together. He was there in remembrance of the woman he’d spent most of his life with, and I felt as if I were remembering a man I’d never met. We spoke for a long while, and it was a bond I’ll always cherish.

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Three Hours From London; Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire

Paul Weiner:
Are there any particular songs that you used as inspiration?

David DiLillo:
Beyond “Three Hours,” the song “From The Morning” was especially resonant with me. It’s the final track on Nick’s third and last album released during his lifetime, ‘Pink Moon,’ and its lyrics are engraved as the stark epitaph on his tombstone: “Now we rise / And we are everywhere.” Nick’s music is poignantly spiritual, but there are recurring, naturalistic element and motifs without adherence to one single denomination of faith. I interpret this line as a beautiful and hopeful vision of the constantly cycling energy in this world, reborn again and again.

From a different angle, the song “One of These Things First” paints a very stark and grounded image of regret. It’s a perpetually fascinating song. As the litany of paths not taken and responsibilities unmet grows, Nick’s somber words float over brightly swung major chords and piano rolls. I view the piece as an admission and apology to those whom Nick might have neglected while still being an enlightened and wise acceptance of the choices he actually made. I sincerely relate and try to reach this awareness.

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Three Hours From London; Warwickshire

Paul Weiner:
Were you at all surprised by what you saw in Tanworth-in-Arden?

David DiLillo:
I felt like I had been there before in an old dream. The English Midlands are not unlike the hillsides of eastern Pennsylvania, but the newness of the scents and sounds gave a unique and raw experience. The passing of time, or my perception of it, surprised me. The days seemed long but ethereal and illuminated. I was rendered stunned by the emotional impact that one individual artist’s work and life could have on me, and I was taken aback by a town not frozen in history on the countryside but, rather, breathing with lives and stories that come and go.

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Three Hours From London; Warwickshire

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Three Hours From London; Warwickshire

Paul Weiner:
Was this series shot digitally or with a film process?

David DiLillo:
I shot with my father’s Canon AE-1 and used black and white film. I nearly forgot to request that the rolls be checked separately at the airport, an important reminder for all other picture makers and photo takers who still travel with film. I was also collecting digital video footage, but it was important for me to use an older process to shoot this project because of the investment of time and care required. There’s the inherent risk of not knowing the look of images taken until much later, but I put trust in my knowledge with the process and in whatever outcome I’d end up with.

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Three Hours From London; Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire

Paul Weiner:
Has your project with Nick Drake affected your way of thinking when creating new works? Did you learn anything about your own practice either technically or conceptually throughout this process?

David DiLillo:
Going into the project, I knew it would be important for me to present the area around Tanworth-in-Arden from an observer’s point of view. Since then, I’ve tried to take the many creative influences I have and make work that can be seen as a reinterpretation of inputs instead of representation and reflection. The isolation of the project and the trip also had its significance and place, but I think I’ve become more drawn to collaborative work in any medium; exchanging ideas with others has become invaluable to me. And I’m still learning to focus less on how a photograph, or any other creative pursuit or piece of art, might fit into the greater whole of an outlined project and more on how I can best genuinely express my own thoughts through art.

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Three Hours From London; Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire


Please view David DiLillo’s work on hiswebsite and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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ADAM SZYMCZYK WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14

A protest broke out surrounding the dominance of Documenta, a prominent art exhibition that takes place every five years in Kassel, Germany. Adam Szymczyk has been selected to be the artistic director of the Documenta 14 exhibit, and an ever-growing group of artists is protesting in refusal of recognizing the legitimacy of any institution that is large and dominant in the way Documenta is. I have interviewed representatives of the protestors in German and translated the interview to English. For more information about the protest and a list of participants, visit the WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14 website.

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Paul Weiner:
Wie viele Menschen sind in ihrer Gruppe?

How many people are in your group?

WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14:
Wir sind keine feste Gruppe, sondern eher eine Zusammenrottung, eine Koalition der Unwilligen. Zu einem festen leuchtenden Kern von Künstlern, die sich persönlich kennen, sind andere Künstler hinzugekommen. Sie sind angeflogen gekommen wie Motten zum Licht. Und es werden immer mehr werden, da geteilt wird, was wir finden. Einer unterschreibt, dass er gegen die Documenta ist, ein anderer findet das ebenfalls und will auch dagegen sein. Am Ende sind alle dagegen und keiner mehr dafür. Das ist das Ziel.

We are not a fixed group but, rather, a rioting assembly, a coalition of the unwilling. Many artists have joined our solid, luminous core of artists who are personally acquainted. They fly to us like moths to a light. And there will be forever more artists who will share what we find. Once one signs on that he is against Documenta, another will find that he is likewise against it. In the end, everyone is against it, and there are no more in favor. That is the goal.

Paul Weiner:
Warum protestieren Sie gegen die Documenta 14?

Why do you protest against Documenta 14?

WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14:
Wir protestieren natürlich nicht im gewöhnlichen Sinne, denn Kunst und Protest sind wie Feuer und Wasser. Aber wir haben eindeutig etwas gegen Dinosaurier! Und die Documenta ist so ein Saurier. Der größte Dinosauerier von allen. Und alle fahren zur Documenta hin als würden sie eine Zeitreise machen, um die Welt der Dinosaurier zu bestaunen. Sicher sind da gute Kunsterlebnisse dabei und es gibt einen Erkenntnisgewinn. Aber um genau so einen Erkenntnisgewinn geht es uns auch. Wir hüpfen einfach als HomoSapiens durch die Dino-Kulisse mit einem gelben Schild, auf dem steht: Wir haben eine Theorie über euer Aussterben! Wir müssen einfach dagegen sein, denn Aufgabe von Künstlern ist es, gegen alles zu sein, was zu groß ist!

We, of course, do not protest in the ordinary sense because art and protest are like fire and water. But we definitively have something against the dinosaurs! And Documenta is one of the dinosaurs, the biggest dinosaur of them all. And everyone goes to Documenta as if they are going back in time to marvel at the world of dinosaurs. Certainly, there are good art experiences there, and it is a learning experience. But we are also creating a learning experience. We simply skip as homosapiense through the dinosaur world with a yellow sign that says, “We have a theory about your extinction!” We must be against it because one task of the artist is to be against everything that is too big!

Paul Weiner:
Wie denken Sie über Adam Szymczyk?

What do you think about Adam Szymczyk?

WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14:
Zugegeben, Adam tat uns anfangs leid. Er hat da dieses riesige berühmte Tier an der Leine und alle wollen mit ihm sprechen und ihn zu irgendwas überreden. Alle wollen einmal in ihrem Leben für 100 Tage auf den Rücken des Dinos klettern. Was für ein Stress! Da haben wir zunächst eigentlich nur gedacht, wir entlasten den Adam und sagen ihm gleich von vorn herein dass wir nicht wollen. Dass er nicht mit uns rechnen braucht. Sie sehen, es hat eigentlich sehr harmlos begonnen, so kampfeslustig waren wir erst gar nicht. Aber es hat sich alles hochgeschaukelt, was soll man machen. Adam Szymcyk hat nämlich wie viele andere versucht uns so hinzustellen, als wollten wir uns an die Documenta anbiedern. Wir kennen diesen billigen Trick natürlich, so seine Gegner für sich vereinnahmen zu wollen. Wir wissen es ist nicht vermeidbar, Teil von dem zu werden wogegen man ist. Doch das juckt uns nicht, es macht uns nur entschlossener. Es gibt ja keinen anderen Weg. Wie sollen die Leute sonst erfahren, dass man dagegen ist? Man muss es doch laut sagen, damit alle bescheid wissen! Und Adam sagen wir ja auch, er soll es nicht persönlich nehmen, schließlich geht es bei allem nicht so sehr um ihn, sondern um den Dinosaurier. Der Dino wird ihm und allen Künstlern seinen Stempel in den Lebenslauf stempeln und fertig. Aber wir finden den Dino schlimm, denn aus Sicht vom Dino sind sie alle komplett austauschbar. Ganz besonders Adam sollte das wissen und uns dankbar sein, dass wir ihn warnen. Wir gehen davon aus, dass er selbst die Documenta noch absagen wird, weil er das erkennt.

Admittedly, we feel sorry for Adam. He has this giant, famous animal on his leash, and everyone wants to talk to him and persuade him to do something. Everyone wants to climb into his life for 100 days on the back of the dinosaurs. What a stress! So we actually initially thought we would just relieve Adam and tell him right from the outset that we do not want anything from him, that he does not need to bargain with us. You see, it actually started very harmless. At first, we were not so belligerent. But it was all taken more seriously than that. What can you do? Adam Szymcyk has namely portrayed us as many others sought, as if we wanted to curry favor with Documenta. Naturally, we know this cheap trick to monopolize your opponents. We know that is not avoidable. Still, that does not affect us. It only makes us more determined. There is no other way. How else would the people know that we are against it? We must say it loud so that everyone knows! And to Adam, we also say he should not take it personally. After all, it is not so much about him as about the Dinosaurs. The dinosaur will stamp his resumé and that of all the artists. But we think the Dinosaur is bad because, from the perspective of the Dinosaur, everyone is completely interchangeable. Especially, Adam should know that and thank us for warning him. We expect that he himself will cancel Documenta because he knows that.

Paul Weiner:
Ist Ihre Koalition gegen andere große Kunstausstellungen oder nur gegen die Documenta?

Is your coalition against other large art exhibitions or only against Documenta?

WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14:
Bevor wir uns missverstehen: Wir sind gegen alles was zu groß ist. Das muss kein einzelner großer Dino sein, wie die Documenta. Das kann auch eine zu große Summe von Dinos sein. Nehmen Sie zum Beispiel die Flugsaurier. Für sich genommen sind die nicht so groß, aber der Himmel ist so voll von diesen Biestern, überall diese Biennalen, Triennalen, Quadriennalen, Festivals, Kulturveranstaltungen, Wettbewerbsausstellungen, Kunstvereine, Privatmuseen usw., die Sonne kommt kaum noch durch. Das Angebot ist so groß, die Künstler wissen gar nicht, wo sie sich zu erst bemühen sollen, um eine Absage zu bekommen. Oder einen Stempel. Dann die Tyrannosaurier! Wir haben vor kurzem noch überlegt, ob wir sie noch schnell gegen die Documenta eintauschen sollen. Larry Gagosian und sein Imperium, die Art Basel, die Armoryshow, eigentlich die ganze Liste… Und wissen Sie was? Sie wussten schon davon und haben uns gesagt, wenn wir öffentlich machen, dass wir nicht zu ihnen wollen, dann kommen sie in unsere Ateliers, nehmen uns unsere Werke und verkaufen sie! (lacht) Im Ernst, das klingt zwar erstmal nicht schlecht, aber es hätte den Grundgedanken, den wir hier vertreten sofort untergraben. Denn wie soll denn ein bloßer Gedanke verkäuflich sein? Der ist doch nicht dasselbe wie unsere Kunstwerke! Sie sehen das Problem. Etwas zum Werk zu machen und zu verkaufen das alle für eine antikapitalistische Moral halten, wirkt einfach ein bisschen zynisch. In so ein Fahrwasser wollen wir gar nicht erst geraten und da kommt uns die Documenta gerade recht. Sie ist ein Prachtexemplar mit einer gewissen Pflanzenfressermoral. In ihrem Magen befinden sich fast alle Probleme unserer Zeit. Ihre Gestalt repräsentiert für uns das umfassende Dinosauriertum. Und sie lebt sowieso schon in ständiger Bedrohung. Wenn wir sie angreifen, befreien wir uns von jeder Moral. Super! Was Besseres kann uns als Künstler gar nicht passieren.

Before we are misunderstood: We are against all that is too big. That does not need to be a single large Dinosaur like Documenta. That can also be a sum total of Dinosaurs. Take, for instance, the pterodactyl. On their own, they are not so big, but the sky is so full of these beasts, of all the biennials, triennials, quadrennials, festivals, cultural events, competitive exhibitions, art clubs, and private museums that the sun barely comes through. The proposition is so large that artists do not know where they should aim only to get a rejection letter. Or a stamp of approval. Then there is the Tyrannosaurus! We have recently considered if we should quickly trade up from Documenta: Larry Gagosian and his empire, the Art Basel, Armory Show, actually the whole list. And you know what? They already knew this and have said, if we make it public that we do not want them, they will come to our studios, take our work, and sell it! (laughing) Seriously, that sounds not bad at first, but it would immediately undermine the basic idea we represent.Then how could a mere thought become marketable? That is still not the same as our artwork! You see the problem. To work to make something and to sell it all as anti-capitalist morals seems a little cynical. We do not want Documenta to just come in handy. She is a fine specimen with an herbivore’s morality. Almost all the problems of our time can be found in her stomach. For us, her figure represents the entire Dinosaur’s world. And she lives in constant threat. If we attack her, we rid ourself of all morality. Super! What better can happen to us as artists?

Paul Weiner:
Was ist die Funktion des zeitgenössischen Künstlers? Sollten sie nicht versuchen, ein Teil der großen Kunstausstellungen oder des großen Kunstbetriebes zu sein?

What is the function of contemporary artists? Should they not seek to be a part of the large art exhibitions or large art world?

WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14:
Wir wissen, es ist absolut überflüssig Teil von etwas Großem sein zu wollen. Genauso wie eine Funktion haben zu wollen. Das ist auch nur so eine billige Art von Größe, gegen die wir vorgehen. Kunst hat nämlich keine definierbare Größe und erstrecht keine Funktion! Und wenn der Künstler eine Funktion hat – ich kann mich da nur wiederholen – dann ist es nur die eine: Dagegen sein! Wenn nötig, gegen alles. Je mehr man in den meisten Fällen dagegen ist, desto besser. Nicht nur gegen einen zu großen Betrieb, zu große Ausstellungen und jede Form von Vereinnahmung, auch gegen sich selbst zu sein ist wichtig! Jeder Künstler sollte das regelmäßig probieren, besonders wenn er sich für einen ganz großen hält. Wer sich und alles andere nicht mehr überwinden kann, beginnt Kunst zu machen, die langweilt!

We believe it is absolutely unnecessary to want to be a part of something big, just as it is to want to have a function. That is also only a cheap way to feel big. So we fight it.  Art has no namely definable size and no function! And if the artist has a function, i can only repeat myself – that it is only one: to be against! If necessary, against everything. In most situations, the more one is against something, the better. It is important not only to be against a overrated artscene, too large
art exhibitions, and every form of usurpation, but it is also important to be against yourself! Every artist should try that on a regular basis, especially when he thinks he is really big. Anyone who can no longer overcome begins to make boring art!

Paul Weiner:
Wie sollen Künstler ihre Arbeit in der Öffentlichkeit präsentieren?

How should artists present their work in the public?

WIR WOLLEN NICHT ZUR DOCUMENTA 14:
In der Öffentlichkeit? Am besten gar nicht. Denn die Öffentlichkeit, und damit meinen wir natürlich die breite, ist tot. Sorry, aber es sieht ganz danach aus. Wir sind nicht so dumm und erklären die Kunst für tot, sondern die Öffentlichkeit! Unsere Kunst lebt wie Sau, während die Öffentlichkeit Gott spielt, also tot ist. Doch es gibt immer einen Ausweg! Wer leben will, schließt sich uns an! Und das ist jetzt keine Werbung, denn wir missionieren hier nicht. Das ist so normal wie ein Apfel, der vom Baum fällt, wenn er reif ist. Stellen Sie sich Marie Antoinette vor, die war auch so ein Saurier. Sehen Sie? Es wird bald so ziemlich jeder – nicht nur wir – gegen alles sein, was zu groß ist. Man wird erkennen: auch das Große ist austauschbar. So austauschbar wie die großen Werbeplakate in der Öffentlichkeit werden bald auch die großen Ideen sein. Die großen Titel, die großen Imperative. Die Öffentlichkeit selbst wird verschwinden. Die Documenta und unsere Aktion werden in Zukunft nichts bedeuten. Die Bewegung ist einfach da, im Grunde auch ohne uns. Wir setzen nur eine Wegmarke. Und es wird übrigens die erste Bewegung weltweit sein, die keine Symbole mehr braucht. Sie wird überhaupt nicht den Charakter von Größe haben. Die Kunstwerke hingegen werden dort gezeigt werden, wo einzig die Künstler es für richtig halten . Die Kunst wird darüber lächeln wie die Mona Lisa. Die ja übrigens auch nicht groß ist.

In public? At best, not at all. Indeed, the public, and by that we of course mean the general public, is dead. Sorry, but it looks to be that way. We are not so stupid to say art is dead. We say the public is dead! Our art lives like Hell while the public plays God as if he is dead. But there is always a way out! Whoever wants to live agrees with us! And that is not advertising because we are not on a mission here to convert anyone. That is so normal like an apple that falls from a tree when it is ripe. Imagine Marie Antoinette! She was also a dinosaur! Do you see? It will soon be pretty much everyone – not only us- against all that is too big. It will seen: even the great is replaceable. Soon the big ideas will will be as replaceable as the big advertising posters in the public, the major titles, the major imperatives. The public itself will disappear. Documenta and our actions will mean nothing in the future. The idea will be there, but without us. We only set a landmark. And it is, incidentally, the first worldwide movement that needs no more symbols. This movement will not have any image or character of greatness. The artwork will, however, be shown there and kept only in the way the artist sees fit. The art will smile like the Mona Lisa. She, by the way, is also not big.


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Woodturning with Roper

Michael Roper is a woodturner working Denver, Colorado and while teaching at Red Rocks Community College. His woodworking involves the creation of many vessels, many of which are hollow forms. Roper has worked with wood as a carpenter and woodturner for over twenty years. Roper’s wood pieces can also be found for sale on his website at http://www.roperwoodturning.com/.

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Ants Marching; ambrosia maple hollow form, 7″ x 4″


Paul Weiner:
How did you first get involved in woodturning?

Michael Roper:
I started woodturning in August of 2007, when I started taking classes at the Red Rocks Community College school of Fine Woodworking. After being a carpenter for almost twenty years, I decided I wanted to be a furniture maker. In the process of making furniture, I found that I like making the parts more then the whole project. Woodturning is very quick, and fits my personality perfectly.

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My Arborist Sneezed; box elder burl, 12″ x 10″

Paul Weiner:
What is your favorite kind of object to make?

Michael Roper:
My favorite things to make on the lathe are hollow form vessels, which is basically a vase or any form where the opening is smaller than the vessel. It takes years of practice to safely remove the wood inside of a form without going through the wall. My latest venture in hollow form turnings are my multi-axis hollow forms. This turning is done on two different axes so that the mouth of the vessel is not in the center of the top.

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Madrone Multi-Axis Hollow Form; madrone burl, 3″ x 3″

Paul Weiner:
Tell us a little about the physical process for starting your woodturning pieces.

Michael Roper:
I like to find pieces of wood that speak to me. What I mean by this is that I look for special pieces of wood that include burl, highly figured, curly, and crotch woods. These particular cuts hold the highest value and produce stunning character. I work with local Front Range arborists to get the pieces I am looking for, which is nice because I get to handle the pieces from the time they come down off of the tree all the way to the finished piece.

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spalted mango, 5″ x 5″

Paul Weiner:
Do you consider yourself a craftsman, fine artist, or somewhere in between?

Michael Roper:
Labels are a hard thing for me. When people ask what I do, I usually tell them I make stuff. Woodturning is my main focus right now, but seven years ago, it was making furniture, and five years before that, it was building homes. I don’t know what I will be doing in the next five years. I have recently started taking pictures, and I am really enjoying photography, but I would also like to explore ceramics at some point.

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Natural Edge Flamed Box Elder Burl Goblet with a Cocobolo Stem; box elder burl and cocobolo, 17″ x 5″

Paul Weiner:
What is your favorite type of wood to work with?

Michael Roper:
My favorite wood to work with is box elder burl. It grows locally on the Colorado Front Range. It has spectacularly tight grain, and sometimes you can find pieces with red streaks called Flaming. The difference in the colors between the flame and the creamy white of the burl make for some amazing looking pieces.

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Picasso Never Did That; bonsai root burl, rosewood, flamed boxelder burl, and spalted pashaco.

Paul Weiner:
What is the best part of teaching woodturning?

Michael Roper:
The best part of teaching woodturning is the look on a student’s face when everything clicks and comes together for that perfect cut. Woodturning is not as easy as it looks. There are a lot of things you need to know to get the perfect cut. Tool rest height, tool angle, and wood speed all play a big part in making a perfect cut, and it takes many hours in front of a lathe to learn and understand these things.

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flamed box elder burl, 1.75″x 1.75″

Paul Weiner:
It’s great to hear that you’re working in a variety of media. What have you been focusing on with your photography?

Michael Roper:
I started learning about photography because I didn’t like the way other people shot my woodturnings. The pictures would come out overexposed or blurry, and that just didn’t work. So I did the trial and error method for a long time. Then I decided it was time to take photography more seriously, so I took a few classes at the Denver School of Photography, and it was the best thing I could have done. They helped me to understand my camera, which helped me to take much better shots. All the shots on my website were taken by me.

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Volcanic; walnut vessel on a carved lindon base

Paul Weiner:
Do you have a preference for working with local materials?

Michael Roper:
I wouldn’t say I have a preference for local woods, but, as an environmentalist, I like using woods that would otherwise be thrown out or ground up for mulch. Most people don’t realize how diverse the forest is on the Front Range. When people think of Colorado trees, they mostly think of pine trees and aspens. Really, there are many more like walnuts, elms, sycamores, box elders, and russian olives just to mention a few. I do love working with exotic woods when I can find them.

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Life After Death; champion cottonwood natural edge vessel, 7″ x 7″

Paul Weiner:
Do you consider your woodturning creations to be decorative?

Michael Roper:
I do both functional and decorative work. My bowls are both beautiful and functional for salad or candy and nuts depending on the size. Being an amateur writer, I also turn a lot of pens. I like the feel of a fine writing instrument in my hand when I’m writing stories or descriptions of my work. Now, my hollow form vessels are decorative art pieces. They are not that functional, but they add an element of wood to any room they are in.

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Aliens Landing; front range ash hollow form sandblasted and painted, 7″x 7″


Please view Michael Roper’s work on his website and “like” Critique Collective on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/critiquecollective.

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