Monday, November 16, 2015
We want to thank you for submitting an application for the 2015 Clark Hulings Fund Business Accelerator Grant. Our grant review panel has completed its review of 140 applications, and, unfortunately, you were not chosen as a finalist or grant recipient.
Although you weren't chosen this year, we encourage you to seek future support from The Clark Hulings Fund. Our website, clarkhulingsfund.org includes many resources designed to help artists like yourself develop their businesses.
Good luck with your future work.
Alas and Alack, this email I received today seems to be fairly standard for me anymore. I'm under drought conditions when it comes to getting accepted for any kind of grant or award. I've decided I have about the same odds anymore as winning the Megamillions lottery: I make the application--spending sometimes days getting all of the information together--pay my fee, then wait to hear back. Often I don't hear back, I just know that the deadline has come and gone and I wasn't notified, other times I get nice rejection emails like this one. It's discouraging, but I've learned over the years not to be bothered(this is not a true statement) since I've also been at the other end, jurying or selecting artists for shows and/or awards. I know how it works, how it is to choose, what a completely subjective experience it is. I recently juried a show for Tilt Gallery http://www.tiltgallery.com/category/whats-new/ , and while I loved the process and choosing the work, it also broke my heart to say no, knowing how hard it is for any artist to put him or herself on the line and then be found lacking. It helps that, along with the artists that didn't get into the show, I've spent my time in the barrel and know just how it feels.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
It was an epic drive, with me taking a few wrong turns, and spending one night in a sleeping bag at a campground along I-10. I-10 was a busy interstate highway that seemed to go on forever, and as soon as I got into Texas, I began to notice the many deer carcasses along the shoulder, hit by traffic as they tried to cross. I'd pull my little truck over to the side of the road, wait for traffic to roar past me, then carefully exit the truck with my camera in hand and take as many photographs as I could. If the smell were bad, I wouldn't linger as long.
The trip was really a bust, with no galleries showing any interest in representing me, and although the few curators that I showed work to were polite, they had no immediate offers of help. However, when I got back to Phoenix I had several rolls of undeveloped film of the dead deer. They turned out to be powerful images, and I ended up developing and painting on several to make this series. Now, 33 years later, what I marvel at is how I brave I was(or perhaps how foolish?): undertaking the long trip by myself, with little or no knowledge or where I was going or the reception I would receive, no cell phone, very little money, and mostly just an enormous belief that things would work out. And, in the end, they did.
Friday, October 16, 2015
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Sunday, September 20, 2015
For the third drop, Hiroki registers the thin rice paper, which has been kept damp and stored in the stack in front of him.
**Woodblock printing in Japan (木版画, moku-hanga) is a technique best known for its use in the ukiyo-e artistic genre of single sheets, but it was also used for printing books in the same period. Woodblock printing had been used in China for centuries to print books, long before the advent of movable type, but was widely adopted in Japan during the Edo period (1603-1868). Although similar to woodcut in Western printmaking in some regards, the moku-hanga technique differs in that it uses water-based inks—as opposed to western woodcut, which often uses oil-based inks. The Japanese water-based inks provide a wide range of vivid colors, glazes, and transparency. Wikipedia
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Instead, I came home with a 7lb, 5 month old female dachshund/miniature pinscher cross puppy with god knows what else mixed in. She'd been picked up as a stray on the mean streets of Albuquerque. She was never going to be big, that was for sure, and, of course, was not house-broken. She was very timid, and hid behind the TV for the first hours in our house. When I approached her, she would run away, and her cautiousness reminded me of the coyotes I was hoping to keep out of our yard. But there was something about her that spoke to me, some quality of reserve and dignity that I could see under the fear in her skinny body. When I finally managed to catch her and then pick her up, I could feel her surrender, melting her body into mine, burying her head in my chest, safe at last.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
As an adult, I came to realize that there was no one good guy, or, perhaps better said, all in nature is the "good guy". Without one, we can't have the other. Rabbits, and there are a lot of them, are eaten by predators, and predators, which there aren't so many of, face starvation if they don't find prey. They both live by their wits, and if they don't, they die. The reality, beyond the death of one animal or the other, is that both fox and rabbit live on, headed in different directions but sharing the same world of sky and forest.