Checkmate

For several years I have used objet trouve for my personal expression. I used weathered and corroded material in two dimensional mixed media assemblages. 

My four-year retrospective exhibit in May of 2014 was highly received by the public. Perhaps it was the anti-climax of a long endeavor, but I felt I had reached an ending and required a new beginning. I would see where three dimensional constructions would lead. 

Added to weathered materials found in situ, will be unwanted items found on dusty shelves, in nooks and crannies. They will consist of second-hand, old, vintage and sometimes antique, bits and bobs. I have started work on this new collection which I call the Game Piece series. The title was derived for two reasons. The artwork resembles the turned wood counters of old board games. It is also a mental game to unite the disparate materials of each; balancing the technical difficulties of construction with the design elements.

Beekeeper is my first Game Piece.  It measures 18 inches in height. The 1934 vintage game board is 16" square.  Materials include tin pot lid, parrot toy, flower pot, mini dart board, sofa leg, tea light, chess men, and miscellaneous material.

A Dented Toyota

The other day while pulling into a parking lot, I noticed the car beside me had a large dent in the rear fender. What drew my attention to it was the self-adhesive letters in the dent spelling out the words wabi-sabi. I laughed all the way to the coffee shop. I appreciated the dry humor of the car's owner as my recent artwork is based on these two little words. 

Wabi-sabi is an ancient Japanese aesthetic. The conjunction does not translate easily. Wabi basically means a humble simplicity of thought or action. Sabi refers to the beauty and serenity that comes from a life of usefulness. In brief, a transcendence of the ordinary. The concept is derived from Zen, a branch of Buddhism. All that is authentic must encompass three realities; nothing lasts, nothing is finished, nothing is perfect. This philosophy is illustrated in commonplace objects either of natural or human construction. It may be quirks and anomalies found in nature or signs of age and wear in man-made utensils. It's the service rendered that is revered. The object is merely the shrine.  

I take an extreme approach to wabi-sabi. In creating my personal interpretation, I select only discarded material that has outlived its usefulness. A well-worn rag that shreds to the touch. A pail that has rusted into many pieces. I attempt to capture the item's intangible essence by creating a shrine through composition. If I succeed, the item takes on a different form altogether. Given a new perceptive it reveals the significance found hidden within its deceptive appearance.

So after days of questioning my artistic direction, I'm presented with validation by a dented Toyota!  I'm not sure where I'm headed but I must be going the right way.

My Journey

One of my earliest memories is laying on a warm window seat trying to capture a Wisconsin snowstorm with a coffee can filled with broken Crayolas. Since there was no white crayon, blue snow fell on Oshkosh in the winter of 1956.

The real beginning was my first oil painting I completed at age 15. It was truly horrible, but my art teacher saw a glimmer of talent and encouraged me to continue. Tuition to a university or recognized art school was financially impossible, so I pursued an art education on my own. Inspiration was everywhere! Every artist was a demi-god, every museum was a palace of beauty. I soaked it all up. 

The '70s found me in Florida having some small commercial success with local scenes painted in oil, acrylic, and pastel. My hard-earned profits paid for every workshop, demonstration, seminar, or lecture available to me. Among others, I studied the principles and elements of composition under David Friend, nationally recognized artist and author. My work became more integrated and altogether more solid. It had substance and my fortune changed. Years followed of gallery receptions and juried exhibitions. 

There were many awards but few rewards. Painting became a never-ending struggle for that golden fleece of recognition. It was a time of angst and frustration. One day I realized I had forgotten the true meaning of being an artist. I did not like what I had become. I put down my brushes, turned my back on The Art World and walked away...

There are certain laws of Nature that we often do not understand. Salmon swim upstream to spawn, sea turtles return to the same beach to nest and true artists always return to their art. When I did, I looked for a new direction both in thought and process. I made paper collages, then went on to mixed media. My surfaces became more dimensional as I incorporated other materials. Then I discovered the art of objet trouve or found object. I was soon creating wall assemblages and free-standing constructions. 

I choose items that can no longer be of any useful purpose. At first it was the chaIlenge of turning nothing into something. But gradually my artwork became a metaphor of philosophical and social viewpoints. I use the most mundane discards in a symbolic capacity to lead the viewer to see our surroundings through new eyes. My awards are fewer now, but my rewards are so much greater. I have personal satisfaction. I communicate my beliefs. I love what I do. I remember what art is all about.... I am content.