Not Christmas specific, but festive and wonderful!

The subject matter of art can be anything that the artist chooses. The content however will always and only be who the artist has made him or herself into.

There is a lot of truth in this statement. I’ve said before, particularly when talking about painter Thomas Kinkade, that the subject matter of art is not something I’ll debate with an artist. I may not appreciate every subject, I may not be drawn into every subject, but subject matter is up to the artist. Frame’s point about content being separate from subject matter is not something that I’ve considered, at least not using those terms.

Subject: An object, scene, incident, etc., chosen by an artist for representation

Content: Something that is to be expressed through some medium, as speech, writing, or any of various arts

In general I think of the subject of a work of art as a tool for conveying what Dictionary.com suggests as the content (more commonly referred to, it seems to me, as the message or meaning). Frame’s comment about content seems to born out of Modernism, which commonly glorifies the individual. Curiously though, his observation seems somewhat aloof — if I can make this kind of judgment based such a brief video interview. For some reason, the comment comes across as academic more than personal.

This is an age-old debate really, one that is not a stranger to The Aesthetic Elevator. How much of the artist should come through in a work? Is serious artwork self-expressive or reserved? Is the content of a painting negated by the raucous lifestyle of of the painter?

We expect each artist to have his or her own style. We each work a little bit differently. We each respond to inspiration around us in our own way. Each artist has their own process. We each come from different roots that color our approaches, our choices on subject matter and so forth. Each artist has a different passion that will show up over time in their style. But is this, “who the artist has made him or herself into,” really what amounts to content, the meaning of a work? Frame talks about meaning a little later in the interview.

When people ask what the work is about, the real answer is that it isn’t about anything and that’s not to say that it’s meaningless rather than it carries its meaning in its own way and on its own terms. And I really think the only way to understand that meaning is by looking and letting go of thinking.

Again there is truth in what the artist says, but I can’t agree wholeheartedly. I’m not going to argue with an artist about whether or not there is intended meaning in a work. That’s for the artist alone to know, and share if he likes. Of course, content, meaning, comes through regardless of an artist’s intentions. I appreciate Frame’s emphasis on looking, but I’m not certain why letting go of thinking needs to be part of viewing art.

I do agree that our own roots, preconceptions, baggage as it were impede looking. If he means that we should let go of or carefully moderate these sometime hindrances while viewing a sculpture or painting I agree. If he’s suggesting that we should check our intellect at the door of the gallery, I disagree.

Still, it’s a good interview and fascinating interactive sculpture. Have a look.

Cody Jean Carson Brown's Migration

One of the things that makes central Nebraska really unique is the Spring migration of the Sandhill Cranes. All sorts of events go on during the month of March in response to the roughly 500,000 cranes descending on the Platte River Valley. Earlier this week my wife and I enjoyed the opening reception of Stuhr Museum’s annual Wings Over the Platte exhibit.

It’s quite a good show, worth seeing if you’re in the area. I was glad to see acquaintance Doug Johnson getting Best of Show. His recent work is going in a creative and wonderfully unexpected direction, which is sometimes lacking in Midwestern art shows. Another fascinating piece was the mixed media (but mostly ceramic) wall sculpture by Cody Jean Carson Brown pictured to the right.

However, the most interesting thing at the exhibit was not visual. It was the bio/artist statement from featured artist Jason Jilg.

Born and raised in Broken Bow, [Nebraska], Jason could not leave the Great Plains fast enough. The world pulled with all its exotic lands and cultures, so Jason joined the Navy and traveled the world to see these locations . . .

. . . If I were given the choice of traveling Europe or some location in the American Plains, I’d probably pick the Plains . . . This part of America that is “in between.” In between the American West, American South and the very different American Midwest in terms of not only geography, but also time, place and memory.

This is interesting to me, if you haven’t figured it out yet, as yet another validation of the plains, the prairie: Lampooned by so much of America, loved by so many that have taken the time to observe it.

Jason’s photography is some of the better photography I’ve seen in recent memory. The exhibit wasn’t perfect; it lacked a focal point as a whole and some of the prints were pushed a little too far — a la Ansel Adams. But it’s obvious Jilg possesses the necessary skills to excel at the craft. He’s careful about choosing and composing his subject matter and uses the frame very well. His sense of scale shooting on the prairie as a subject is also very acute. I’m looking forward to seeing more of his images in the near future.

I’m not exactly sure where my interest in gilding — as well as gemstones — began (this is actually “imitation” gold leaf), though it may stem in part from an interest in the idea of an icon, a sacred object. I haven’t thought about this at length yet; I should in the near future.

This piece is for sale with a few others at The Milestone Gallery in Grand Island, Nebraska.

Entropy and restoration are two recurring themes in my process, and thus my sculptures. When I use the word entropy I’m referring to the inevitable deterioration of both the physical and social world around us. I most often observe this phenomenon in the built environment. Buildings crumble, mailboxes rust, roadways buckle and gape with potholes.

Restoration, conversely, implies the ability to rectify or reverse impending decay. In my sculptures this usually takes the form of found objects, repurposed as a canvas (as with Rust, restore) or sculpture. Some of the time these salvaged items serve as raw materials, sometime as accessories so to speak.

Rust, restore comments directly on both entropy and restoration. Whlie the use of text seems, at first, very blunt, symbolism remains. My hope is for the viewer to begin considering both the inevitability of decay and hope with the possibility of restoration.

I’ve been a fan of Meagan’s work since I discovered her blog last year. She uses low-fire clays and most of her works are small abstract (or non-representational) sculpture. Her glazes are pretty nuanced for low-fire works. She lives and works in Ocala, Florida.

You can purchase her sculptures on Etsy or giveArtfully.

“We don’t want merely to see beauty . . . We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”

— C.S. Lewis

The sentiment Lewis expresses in the above quote, a burning but enigmatic desire to become a part of what is beautiful, could spawn a thousand interpretations. If I were to elaborate on the quote, I might suggest that — whether we’re aware of it or not as humans — we innately pursue a Divine aesthetic.

This pursuit of a Divine aesthetic underpins my own artistic endeavors. Carving from a block of wood, modeling a lump of clay or assembling found objects I reflect on the original beauty of the materials in my hand. My hope, however futile, is to create something that speaks towards an unfettered beauty, beauty with a capital B.

Beauty with a capital B isn’t always what we expect. Something I pick up in the road — a rusted piece of sheet metal, a tangle of wire flattened by so many cars, half a shake shingle — generally elicits eyes and groans of disgust. A menacing thunderstorm on the edge of a prairie, with it’s potential to ruin a crop with hail or drop a tornado that aims to flatten a community, can levy fear upon a crowd.

However, there is also incredible beauty in a billowing storm. There is incredible beauty in the patina of crumpled, rusted steel lying in a roadway. Meditative poetry and contemplative metaphor hide in such entropy. I hope to extract just a little of this poetry and metaphor from my own intentional observations, infuse it into my work and share it with a viewer.

So there is hope.

Failing hearts (above) is “a collaborative installation by two artists dealing with issues of the heart — one, an emotional and poignant set of unopened letters that are filled with words that speak of a failing relationship, while the other deals strictly with the presence and form of the heart itself.” Joel Armstrong hung a myriad of his wire drawings, intermingled with wire words taken from the aforementioned letters. The letters were written by his late mother, and gallery goers were encouraged to take additional words from his parents’ dresser — part of the installation — and pin them to the walls.

Neil Ward contributed the cast calf hearts, sitting on the small shelves in the photo above. Each heart is cast using a different mixture of materials; every one unique in form.

Two doors down hung a show by the same artists titled On the Line. Armstrong is seen in the photograph above pointing out some of the clothing on the line, again drawn in wire. It is a beautifully arranged work, best viewed after dark. Ward’s cast eyeballs line the walls, “perhaps here the understood tendencies of voyeur and nosy neighbor.”

Both installations employ sound and are meant to draw the viewer in not just visually and emotionally, but experientially. The shows are up until the 29th of January.

Etsy is a great idea but has terrible management. The company seems to be bent on purist policies that snub their own users, without which they would cease to exist. I’ve always been convinced that the website is a very inexpensive way to maintain a nice looking store, but you have to market it yourself. You can’t remotely rely on the website’s own traffic for sales.

Marissa is switching to Art Fire for the time being, which she’s already used some and likes pretty well. The following is one of her mixed media prints listed on Art Fire, titled Dream World.

On a similar note, my friend Joel Armstrong just called me to say that Art Bistro‘s terms and conditions include (in number eight) a clause that gives the Bistro all rights to work you post or list with that website. I’ve registered for Art Bistro but have yet to figure out what the website is actually for. Joel was right to point that out though; among artists, a statement like that won’t be popular. Since I personally work almost exclusively in three-dimensions, it applies less to me than painters and illustrators whose work can much more easily reproduced. For sculptors like me, if the Bistro wants to use images I upload of my own work I’d probably be thrilled at the free marketing!

Update: Etsy has reversed the change mentioned above according to my wife, after a mere week of outcry from users.

I’ve moved some of my clay inside to keep it at a tolerable temperature. I’ve also begun a new series, working with the figure.

Storms are less inspiration during the colder months, and I’ve always wanted to work with the figure. This will be my first serious attempt to incorporate it into my work.

The process at this point is pretty much the same. Starting with a block of clay, hollowing it out some, carving. The intent will be to mount it in and on a sculpted piece of wood like the storms on their prairies. In this case the wood will be more dynamic. I hope to finish these clay pieces with a combination of smoke, inlaid stones and gold leaf. The golf leaf is something I’ve wanted to try for a while now as well.

In my mind, this series will speak of how humans are related to the earth and show how beautiful natural materials can be (hopefully!).