Twin Selves 2015

I was recently asked by Nan Masland, the Public Art Project Coordinator for the Bernalillo County Cultural Services Department,  to be involved in a project which joined woman artists with female juvenile youth offenders between the ages of 14 and 18.  We were given a blank panel and asked to create an image on half the panel, then give it over to a teen to complete, under the supervision of another artist. We were asked to respond to the following question,  “What advice would you give your teenage self?"

My advice to my teenage was self was this: everything is going to be alright. As a girl, and as a younger woman, I worried all the time.  I carried anxiety around with me like a treasured friend, afraid that if I didn't worry, then something bad would happen.  But the bad things that ended up happening were not the things that were on my radar, or they were so subtle and insidious that I had no knowledge of them until they were full blown:  relationships within my family, eroding, like acid, over the years-- or they came out of nowhere: being with my daughter in her little VW Jetta on a lonely highway in Southeastern New Mexico when we hit and killed a wild Javelina going 80 mph. 

So now, at the age of 64 I've learned to let go of  much of the worry.  I meditate, I don't eat sugar, I exercise, I try and act on things in my life as promptly as I can. I try to love the people in my life cleanly and honestly and I work hard at believing in myself.  But more than anything else, I  look back over the years and realize that my life unfolded the way it needed to, almost in spite of myself, and that everything has been, and will be, alright. 

David and Goliath 2005

The phrase "David and Goliath" has taken on a more secular meaning, denoting an underdog situation, a contest where a smaller, weaker opponent faces a much bigger, stronger adversary.  Wikipedia.

Of course, in the ancient telling of "David and Goliath", Goliath was facing David so that when the stone that David hurled at him, hit him, it landed smack dab in the middle of his forehead, causing him to stumble and fall. Then of course, David whacked off his head and held it up to show everyone that Goliath was no longer.

My Goliath is really a figure of sympathy (and knowing what was to follow, you have to agree).  He's frightened, running to get out of the way of the stones flying at his head, probably knowing what is to come if he falls.  We automatically root for David, after all, he's much smaller, and is armed only with stones, although God is backing him, so actually he has quite a bit of help.  But really, whenever there is a winner, there is also a loser, and no matter what the odds, it's always bad for the person, team, or country that goes down, no matter how large or how powerful.

I think of all that is going on in the world right now, with the conflict and the incredibly confusing issues that have to do with religion, terrorism, climate change and violence(to name a few).  I want there to be a David who can win against all odds. But then, I'm not even sure who David is, and I'm  afraid that we, those of us that live in the United States of America, are in fact, Goliath.

Being Rejected 2014

 

Dear holly,

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.

Deer with Paw 1983

Having recently finished graduate school, I wasn't sure what the next step in being an artist should be.  After much thought and discussion, I decided it should be making make my work known to a larger audience.  So, one fall day in 1982,  I headed to Houston(two days plus) in my small Datsun pickup truck, portfolio and camping gear secured in the back.

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.

Lazy: Fall 2015

I have been working for almost a year on building images.  At this point, I have slipped into a stage that is probably very similar to what happens to a heroin addict:  I only want the fun, none of boring stuff.  I have painted the panels http://hollyrobertsonepaintingatatime.blogspot.com/2015_07_01_archive.html which is lots and lots and lots of fun, and exciting.  I have taken and gathered the images/painted paper/photographs (fun), and I have cut out and pieced them together to make stories about things I didn't know existed until I pulled them all together(fun and interesting).  I tack them onto the painted surfaces with poster adhesive, and then I put them up on the wall to look  and then adjust as need be(not as fun but okay).

The images that I have put up are soon covered by other images, so that on my shelves I have images that go three and four deep, all waiting to be adhered(NOT fun).  I forget about the ones I've done as I stack more over them.

The tables are covered with folders with photos/painted paper/and painted panels. As I continue to work they are then covered by more folders and more bits and pieces of paper:  faces, textures, shapes.  Somehow I keep a fairly precise idea of where everything is on the seven tables in my studio:  two tiny cut out horse ears?  No problem, on the shelf under the image of the Twin Selves towards the back(and this from a mind that can't remember why it's taking me from one room to the next).  If I start to clean up and organize things(not fun), instead I just make more collages(fun).  By this time every scrap of paper that I've cut, or printed out has potential, and if I throw it away, what then?  Gone(not fun)!

I'm left with a mountain of work: the careful, precise, and anal job of adhering the images permanently, then coated with a final varnish(NOT NOT fun).  I will end up with a stiff and sore neck and a jaw that doesn't want to open because I have been clenching as I glue. I will photograph the new work, adjust the images in Photoshop(not as un-fun as adhering but not exactly fun), then  send the images to my galleries to see which ones they want to exhibit(sometimes fun, sometimes not).  So, wherever I have put a "not fun" think of that heroin addict dozing off on the dirty mattress on the floor, bills unpaid, leaking roof, and a kitchen stacked full of unwashed dishes.

Man with TV 1986

TV is central to our lives.  Both my husband and I take our dinners into the living room where we sit, plates in our laps, and watch our favorite programs every evening.  I'm reminded of Bob's Grandparents watching Lawrence Welk every Saturday, only now they are long gone, and we are watching our own versions of the saccharine band leader.  We talk about characters as if they are our friends, analyzing what has been said or done long after the show is over.  When we go out to parties or to have dinner with friends, we discuss our latest favorite shows, among them, Naked and Afraid, a reality show about two strangers of the opposite sex dropped in the wilderness to survive without food, clothes, or water for 21 days, or Transparent, a TV series about a family in Los Angeles whose father comes out as always having thought of him/herself as a woman. We now have cable with it's billion trillion(mostly worthless) channels, Netflix, and now, Amazon Prime, so we have even more access to movies and television series.  Many of the programs we watch are excellent, and it's being said that we are in the Golden Age of TV--series that are allowed to follow complicated and compelling story lines over years, like Breaking Bad or The Sopranos.  But even when we only had four stations and a tiny black and white set with Rabbit ears, we were still TV Junkies.  At least now we can pretend that what we are watching is vital to our development as human beings, and not just pure escapism.

Burning House 2015

After being asked by Hiroki Morinoue to do a Mokuanga print with him at Anderson Ranch this Fall, I prepare the drawing, taken from the image Big Girl http://hollyrobertsonepaintingatatime.blogspot.com/2011/12/big-girl-2009.html

Hiroki takes my drawing and traces it to two bass wood panels. He carves another house as well as the key panel to make the house stand out more, but, in the end, it makes the house too strong and we don't end up using it(the second panel can be seen resting against the wall).  His printing station is located on the floor in a corner of the printmaking shop at Anderson ranch, with Hiroki sitting on a cushion with a two low benches in front of him to work on, all of which can be folded into his suitcase so that he can travel with them.

 The first run of the print is a bass wood panel inked with red and it will be dropped twice, once for the background, and again, only partially inked, to give the top part of the sky a deeper red.  The "inks" are water colors, and must be kept wet to work.  The pattern of the wood is clearly evident, part of the charm and aesthetic of the print.

For the third drop, Hiroki registers the thin rice paper, which has been kept damp and stored in the stack in front of him.

 Here you can see Hiroki rubbing the back of the paper with his Baren, transfering the ink from the panel to the print.

 The second panel after it has been painted with black water based ink and then had an image pulled from it.

 The panel with the freshly pulled print next to it and the round Baren that Hiroki uses to rub the ink in his hand(face down).

 Hiroki, satisfied with the print.

Burning House, a Mokuhanga print printed by Hiroki Morinoue*.  An ancient Japanese technique using water based ink that is hand rubbed from carved wood blocks.**

*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiroki_Morinoue

**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