Speaking at the NY Studio School last night, artist Ron Gorchov recalled seeing a frustrated painter friend kicking work off a balcony in the mid-1960s. At that moment it occurred to Gorchov that "It's important to do something you really want to do." For Gorchov, the elusive goal has been to get fields of color to float in a room. At 78, he feels like the work he's doing is the "most fluent and fertile of my life."
Gorchov first came to New York in 1953, meeting Mark Rothko on his second day here. It was a different time, he explained, and meeting famous artists was as easy as going to their bars. At the end of meeting Rothko, Gorchov made an overture and said they should get together soon. Rothko balked, saying "No. Have a few gallery shows. It's a small place, and we'll meet."
When Gorchov tried to get an introduction to painter John Russell through a mutual friend, the friend said no. "Nobody would introduce each other," Gorchov explained. The atmosphere was competitive. "They were all jealous of each other."
I returned a book of writings by German artist Gerhard Richter to a friend today. The book, called "Gerhard Richter: The Daily Practice of Painting, Writing from 1962 - 1993," is a compilation of Richter's notes, interviews and exhibition writing. As much as I dislike Richter's especially German pretense to objectivity, and as much as I find his subjects boring, and his approach half impotent, his writing is challenging and engaging. What follows are some of the best quotes I found in the book. Some I agree with; some are nonsense.
The idea that art copies nature is a fatal misconception. Art has always operated against nature and for reason.
All we can represent is an analogy, which stands for the invisible but is not it.
To believe, one must have lost God; to paint, one must have lost art.
Painter Julian Hatton spoke last night at the NY Studio School about his work, some of which I review here.
Hatton spoke about his experience of nature, frequently invoking his childhood in Michigan, where he said there's about two months of good weather each year. He contrasted the cold, flat landscape there, across the lake from Fond du Lac, with his experiences on the east coast, in Maine, and also in Brittany, France.
He recalled painting in the late winter and early spring in France and seeing how cold the colors in that landscape are. Then, one day in early June, he experienced the entire landscape awakening with color. He connected Bonnard's experience in the north of France with the cold color palette that becomes very warm and intimate. Hatton said he'd never experienced anything like it, and clearly there was an affinity for that liveliness in a cold landscape.
I first came across Tucker Nichols' work on his What a Day site, where the artist makes one small work a day and posts it online for all to see. His pieces are deceptively simple and engaged in Nichols' everyday life. One piece could feature the simple scrawl of an advertising phrase, while another could be a mysterious shape that looks like cotton balls trapped in a bird cage. His work seemed to be about taking the things we throw away or don't pay attention to and clarifying them in small, strong compositions, like seeing a city reflected in rainwater that's gathered in a bottle cap.
As much as I liked seeing his work online, I later happened to see his show at a very fancy, upscale gallery in Chelsea and decided to e-mail Tucker to figure out what's going on. Be sure to visit http://www.tuckernichols.com to play along.
Daily Gusto: How did you start creating art?
Tucker Nichols: There was never a break between drawing as a kid and now, really. I started taking drawing more seriously when academia didn't fit the things I wanted to say. The decision to "become an artist" came as a result of admitting that it's what I'd wanted to do all along and that you only get a limited amount of time to live. After I put those things together, I didn't feel I had much of a choice but to at least have a go at it.
Can you describe the process that goes into making one of your "What a Day" pieces?
There's nothing like eating a southern breakfast under a team of manatee angels. I was eating biscuits and gravy at the Early Girl Eatery in Asheville, NC, when I became enchanted by these small, colorful paintings on the walls. There was a swarm of blubbery angels and a potato boy. They were cartoony but very textured. The paintings have a beautiful, milky encaustic surface that makes the wild imagery even more mysterious and dreamlike. I decided to e-mail artist Julie Armbruster about her work. [Pictured left: Her Evil Nature Could No Longer Remain Hidden. 4 x 5 inches. Click on photo for larger image.]
Gusto: How did you become an artist?
Julie Armbruster: I have always loved the idea of becoming an artist, but I originally studied to be a teacher. After I tried teaching at a private school/cult in Connecticut I decided I needed to be a better artist if I wanted to be able to teach. So, I enrolled in the most fantastic MA program at NYU to study painting in Venice, Italy. It never occurred to me that being an artist was a viable option, but I spent months enjoying the idea of it. I had a fantastic studio in Venice off of the Zattere and spent every waking hour working out my ideas. The more [time] I spent painting and drawing the more I became addicted to the idea of making a go at exploring my personal vision more seriously. I spent the next two years in Williamsburg, Brooklyn trying to keep my head above water and make enough money to earn free time. It was a losing battle and I decided to move to a place where I could work less for money and more for myself. I moved to Asheville, NC in 2005 and have been working on my paintings ever since.
