Mindy Solomon Gallery

“All architecture is shelter, all great architecture is the design of space that contains, cuddles, exalts, or stimulates the persons in that space.”

Philip Johnson

There is a similarity in architecture and sculpture in that both deal with space, either contained or surrounded. These two art forms come together and can be seen to enhance each other in a thoughtful well designed art gallery.

That is the feeling one gets on first entering Mindy Solomon Gallery in St. Petersburg, Florida. Located in that city’s downtown arts core, the small gallery exalts space with 25 foot ceilings, an open floor plan and abundant natural light. The airy space seems larger because of it.

This is not an interior unto itself, but intended to show off its contents, in this case an exquisite exhibition of Korean ceramics and paintings. With muted colors and elemental forms, these vessels and wall-pieces are perfect objects for the minimal gallery space.

"My House 2"
Kang Hyo Lee

One is drawn to contemplate each piece and the process of looking can become a simple meditation. Perhaps because of the artists’ Oriental esthetic, I went away with the feeling of having experienced something reverent.

Meditative Journeys at Mindy Solomon Gallery runs February 25- March 31. The Gallery is at 124 2^nd Avenue NE, St. Petersburg. 727 502-0852.

(photos courtesy of Mindy Solomon Gallery)

Nancy Cervenka Exhibition at Gallery 221 @ Hillsborough Community College/Dale Mabry Campus

We’ve all pulled out the middle of price-sticker or film rolls just to see what would happen. Gulfport artist Nancy Cervenka did it and created a new art form. The USF film school graduate had a bunch of 16mm film lying around and one day began experimenting.

Creative person that she is, Nancy saw big possibilities in the curvaceous forms she was fashioning. In her hands inert film became swooping spiraling organic objects. You wonder how film can be made to conform to such graceful shapes. Stalagmites must look like this when they party.

In the early 1990’s, Nancy began exhibiting her film sculptures in outdoor art festivals and immediately won praise, awards and sales. She has won Best of Show twice at Mainsail in St. Petersburg and in 2009 scored the big one, Best of Show at Gasparilla Art Festival in Tampa. Nancy's works are included in many Bay area collections.

You can see Nancy's new work at an upcoming exhibition at Gallery 221@ Hillsborough Community College/Dale Mabry Campus. Titled "Film on Film: Nancy Cervenka," the show opens this Thursday, 5-7 pm.

Hot Wax Treatment

Reflections 21, encaustic painting, Leslie Neumann

Encaustic (n.)

1. A paint consisting of pigment mixed with beeswax and fixed with heat after its application.
2. The art of painting with this substance.
3. A painting produced with the use of this substance.
[Latin encausticus, from Greek enkaustikos, from enkaiein, enkau-, to paint in encaustic : en-, in; see en-² + kaiein, to burn.]

I first became acquainted with Leslie Neumann’s encaustic paintings in 2004, when we exhibited in adjoining galleries at the Morean Arts Center in St. Petersburg. While not a stranger to the hot wax process, I quickly realized what deep beauty can be achieved by the hand of a master.

Leslie’s landscapes have a softness of form with layers of subtle transparency which give her compositions depth and perspective. This is painting as a window, drawing the viewer into a rich and luminous other world.

On a subsequent visit to her Aripeka home and studio, I learned more about Leslie’s exacting technique, as well as her commitment to preserving Florida’s unique wild habitats. From her third floor studio balcony, we looked out over an almost pristine coastal estuary turned golden by the setting sun. One could not ask for a more inspiring setting in which to make art.

Leslie and eight other artists using the encaustic method will be featured in “Wax: Medium Meets Message,” an exhibition at the Morean which opens this Friday, 5-7 pm with an artist’s talk at 5 pm.
www.moreanartscenter.org 

Image courtesy of the artist

Art Goes For A Ride

With the opening of St. Petersburg’s Warehouse Arts District, that city’s lively art scene has suddenly expanded westward a couple of miles. Located in a former industrial area just off 5^th Ave. S. and 24^th St. S., the area is home to a growing list of pioneering artists.

Like most new venues, Warehouse artists wondered, if they opened, would people come. Judging by Saturday night’s Gallery Walk turnout, the answer is a resounding yes.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to an art opening that featured rent-a-cops, roaming photographers and a live band. But the scene at Duncan McClellan’s grand glass atelier had something I’ve never seen - an Airstream trailer.

Parked across from Duncan’s, sat a vintage 24 foot tricked-out road worthy Airstream. This nostalgic beauty belongs to artists Matt and Becky Larson and is home to their newest venture, Boxfotos.

Team Larson transformed the Airstream into a cozy gallery and has quite literally taken its show on the road. Boxfotos will travel to different locations for photography exhibitions and workshops. Look for them next at the Museum of Fine Arts on Beach Drive in St. Petersburg.

photo courtesy Boxfotos

A Short History of Artist Jean Dubuffet

Rules Are More Than Lines On Paper



The Fountain,
Marcel Duchamp

Mat Gleason, art critic at Coagula Art Journal, recently wrote an excellent essay titled, “12 Art World Habits to Ditch in 2012.” It is great reading with liberal sprinkles of humorous wisdom. My art boy hackles were raised by two of his habits and I felt compelled to respond.

Mr. Gleason writes:

Rules. There are too many of them. You do whatever you want. You can even be so great that you actually achieve a complete and total failure. Then you can make art. But you never have to follow any of the rules and anyone who says you do... well he or she just hasn't failed enough to realize this.

Experts. Art is subjective. There inherently cannot be experts.

Marcel Duchamp, hero of many post-modernists, and famous for the statement, “Art is whatever the artist says is art, not what critics say art is.” It was, in Duchamp’s case, a true statement, since no one denied he was already a bona-fide artist.

His words have since been turned upside down and taken by would-be artists to mean, “If I say it is art, then I am an artist.” There is a huge difference in the two statements, which is the years and years of labor it takes until one has the training and confidence to call themselves an artist.

People today seek to and are even encouraged to bypass education and experience as unnecessary. Just jump right in and express yourself. Your art is just as valid as any other artist’s work. This is magical thinking of the naïve and also a disturbing trend of those who deride art as being intellectual elitism. As Mr. Gleason correctly points out, art is sensual and visual, not intellectual.

This is where experts and rules come together. From the viewpoint of the artist, creative rules are like riding a bicycle. You ride that bike and then crash. You ride and crash again. Pretty soon, one learns what to do and what not to do and masters riding a bicycle. After that, bike riders internalize the rules and can ‘forget’ them and enjoy the ride.

Making art is the same thing. You go to school or learn on your own. You try something and inevitably make mistakes. Along the way, after much trial and error, you realize there are rules. There are rules of color, line, composition, and technique. The art student internalizes those rules until they too can ‘forget’. The challenge then becomes how to break the rules and stay true to one’s vision.

Considering artists, learning art is first an objective experience. Making art, however, is subjective. If artists stick to it and are lucky, they will become experts of their own personal vision.

When looking at art, viewers tend to fall back on their own personal likes and dislikes. They may not be aware of technique or artistic intention, but if they look long enough, they become experts of their own feelings.

People who spend their lives around art may become expert at art’s objective nature. They recognize color, composition, technique and know if it works or not. When viewing content and speaking of an artist’s intention, their expertise is almost always colored by subjective preference.

It could be said that the artist, the viewer and the art critic are all, in their own way, experts. As it is in life, trouble comes when any one of them try to impose their rules and expertise on the others.

My Summer Book

For many moons I have wanted to combine my two creative joys, writing and image making, into book form. My ignorance of complex design software and the cost of printing hundreds of copies always stood in the way of my book goal.

The internet and digital revolutions have given rise to various print-on-demand companies (POD), which are able to economically print one book or hundreds of them. The clincher for me happened when these companies began offering software so simple even a tech troll like myself could use it.

Even so, my summer project of producing a first book has only now gone to press. Titled Fear of Flying, the small book is a compilation of line drawings illustrated with short prose. When I allow myself to think about it, I realize that life is strange and even absurdly funny. The book is a result of giving in to the joy of odd.

The Whole World Is Watching

We here at Denis Gaston Art have reason to celebrate. Recently, in the last day or two, someone, somewhere out there, has become the twelve-thousandth person to visit this blog. That's twelve-thousand visits from 120 different countries. Oops, make that 121 countries.

Compared to mrwinkle.com, that may not seem like many visits, but we think it shows a respectable world-wide interest for our contemporary art related content.

We tip our berets to all those world-wide viewers and look forward to the next twelve-thousand visits. And thanks to our twelve-thousand and fifty-seventh visitor from the Republic of Seychelles.

Moving In And Drawing Out

In this the hottest day of the hottest month, workers have decided to show up to continue some much delayed home renovation. This Old House this is not and the sound of hammers and saws is often followed by long stretches of silence. Peeking out the window, I discover they've left without a word. Will they be back today, tomorrow?

This sort of home invasion has continued for over a week and my only sanctuary has become the drawing room. In a distant corner from the clang and bang, I start by letting my pen do some walking around on the paper. Later, as a rudimentary image begins to appear, I take over and guide the drawing to completion. This peculiar drawing method has produced a bestiary of critters, two of which appear above.

Craft Is Art

"Persian Jar," wheel thrown. altered Raku fired vessel, Michael Simon

Craft art has always seemed like a second sister in the contemporary art world. It never strove for the cool or cerebral status of Pop or Post-Modern Art, the two movements that, after the excesses of Abstract Expressionism, came to dominate the mainstream art scene. And, horrors, craft art delighted in showing the hand marks of its makers, a technique strictly avoided in the slick and calculated popular art styles.  This alone was enough to land the tradition in the category of amusing artifacts.

But the tradition of fine craft thrives in diverse settings all across the country. This astonishing creative diversity bursts forth in Craft In America, a six part PBS series. In gritty industrial inner cities, in off-the-track Appalachian enclaves, in North West Coast communities and the arid South West, artists are carrying on handed-down traditions, and most refreshingly, many are bringing their craft into the modern art world.

Using technologies unavailable to their ancestors, these craft visionaries are expanding the boundaries of the hand-made traditions and in the process enriching the lives of those willing to take the time to appreciate it.

Artist Finder

A new web site has been launched that promotes Florida artists and their studios. It is called Artist Finder and will use a combination of web site, YouTube and Facebook to promote artists and their work.

One of the most important aspects of the site is to encourage studio visits and purchases from patrons. As outdoor shows have proven, patrons love to talk directly to artists and gain first hand knowledge of how and why artists create. The added feature of studio visits allows patrons an opportunity to enter the artist's world and view the totality of their work.

Jerry Uelsmann At Harn Museum of Art

Jerry Uelsmann (born 1934)  Untitled , 2003
Gelatin silver print
19 3/8 x 15 in (49.1 x 38 cm)
Collection of the artist
© Jerry Uelsmann

In 1965 I arrived at the University of Florida ready to shock and awe the masses with my art making ability.
It did not take long, roughly one semester, to realize I had seriously overestimated my talents. Mostly, it was a couple of hippie graduate students who quickly showed they could paint circles around everyone.

The other person who brought me back to earth was Jerry Uelsmann. It was me in awe from the first I saw his rich darkroom creations. How did he get those elegant images? How could I achieve such feathery chiaroscuro? It was then I discovered that photography could also be art.

What I learned most from Jerry was how to really see the world around me - not just cursory glances, but focused observation. I learned to use my eyes first as a viewfinder and only then look through the camera. A personal design sense would come later, gradually. It helped tremendously that I was able to observe first hand the photographs of a master.

Now through September 11, The Mind's Eye, 50 Years of Photography by Jerry Uelsmann at Harn Museum of Art, University of Florida, Gainesville.

Hidden Lake By Marjorie Greene

Here is an excellent example of the printmaking technique of artist Marjorie Greene. Marjorie is also a gifted painter and teaches at St. Petersburg College Clearwater campus. These prints, titled Hidden Lake, are reduction wood block prints, which means that after each color is printed, that part of the wood block is cut away.  At the end, very little of the block is left. Thereafter, no additional prints may be pulled.

The editions are small with only six prints of each image. The size is 24" x 41" for the outside two and 18" x 41" for the center panel.  The prints will be on view at the Leepa-Rattner Museum of Art on the St. Petersburg College Tarpon Springs campus in August and September.

Artist Profile: Denis Gaston - Pinellas County Cultural Affairs Interview

Here is a studio interview from a few years ago. I just now learned how to convert it to YouTube.

Florida Artist Group Exhibition

City Soaring by Patton Hunter

Last evening I attended an invigorating exhibition reception of the Florida Artist Group. Held at the Beach Art Center on Indian Rocks Beach, the show highlights the diverse work of Area 4 FLAG members. FLAG is a statewide organization and the oldest artist run group in Florida.


Cheryl Anne Day-Swallow
Area 4 President
talks with visitors

These are not simply Sunday painters but bona fide professionals who create art Monday through Saturday, and yes, even Sunday. The level of vision and competence is extraordinary and I'm proud to be a member.



(photo courtesy of Jim Swallow)

En Plein Aire as Anywhere

First of all, let us phase out another tired cliche, "local artist." The term, when used in the media, has come to infer that the artist is not quite ready for full artist status.

In that way of thinking, artists live in cities like New York, Paris or London, while local artists toil away in Podunkville longing for the big leagues.

Even cities that promote themselves as art meccas still freely use the pejorative moniker local artist. Most art museums would never consider mounting an exhibition of a local artist.

In the all inclusive sense of the word, we are global artists. When we stand at the easel, artists tap into a creative spirit that cannot be limited by other imposed boundries We derive our inspiration from world events as well as the back yard.

"Local" comes from the Latin word locus which means "place" and for artists, our place is the world.

Le Palais Ideal Du Facteur Cheval

Drawing Without Borders

In 1964, as it became apparent American kids would be going to Viet Nam, I made the easy decision to go to college instead. In the following weeks I slogged through mind numbing courses on logic, calculus, and earth science, more than once wondering if I had made the right decision.

My first art class, Basics of Drawing, promised to be a piece of cake by comparison. After all, I had been drawing since first grade, so how hard could a beginning course be. There were seven of us in the class, all veterans of excellent high school art programs.

Our smugness that first day lay thick like gesso. Our air of superiority lasted all trimester. Exercises on contour drawing, gesture drawing, value drawing, and shapes were no match for the Magnificent Seven.

By trimesters end, all of us felt certain we had aced Basics of Drawing. But, instead of accolades came the unwelcome news that there would be a final exam. After much rolling of eyes and grumbling, some decided it might be smart to hit the books the night before. Book knowledge, it turned out, would not prepare this group of over-achievers.

Next day, Mrs. Bedeau, a no-nonsense and usually punctual woman, strode into class ten minutes late. And as if to heighten the growing suspense, she said nothing, but looked at each of us in turn. A faint smile crossed her face.

“Your final exam today will be a drawing assignment.”

Turning away from us, Mrs. Bedeau placed something carefully on the drawing stand. Then standing aside, she pointed down at the small object.

“I want you to spend the entire two hours drawing this.”

Before anyone could respond, she was out the door and gone.

All of us moved in to get a better look at that mysterious object. We gazed in astonishment at that which would determine our final grade in Basics of Drawing. It was an egg.

Mrs. Bedeau, in her wisdom, had picked the perfect object with which to deflate a group of art prima donnas. Designed by nature to make life easy on the hen, the egg is neither a circle nor an ellipse, but a combination of the two- a spheroid.

I took one look at that little ovo and knew I was screwed. None of the failsafe methods we fell back on would suffice this time. Outlines would not work for there were no lines. Texture was nowhere to be found and contrast existed only as a subtle difference between egg-shell white and the off white drawing stand. I could not detect a single light source since the room was bathed in an irritating ambient glow.

Nothing would do but to start all over, first by simply looking at the object, in this case an egg, in a new way. After a while, I began to notice minute tonal shifts on the egg’s surface. I found what I thought were the points where the circle and ellipse joined, the lightest area. And that is where I began drawing.

Two hours later, my finished drawing looked stiff, awkward, and altogether un-egg like, but that was the exact moment when I began learning how to draw.

Letters From Home

Silent Sentinels, enamel on wood panel, 1969, Kandauer

  My father, Richard Gaston, a cartographer and publisher by trade, took up painting in the late 1940's. He especially loved the German abstract painters and invented his nom d'artist Kandauer, combining the names of German painters Wassily Kandinsky and Joseph Bauer.

After I moved away from home to make my own mark in the art world, Dad gave me one of his favorite pieces called Silent Sentinels. The work seems to say a lot about the artist - a person with deep and complex roots, but silent and closed off to the world. At least that is the feeling I had of him, perhaps reflecting some of my own cloistered insecurities.

Silent Sentinels has been a companion ever since, moving with me many times and becoming a featured piece in my growing art collection. Recently, some old letters from my father resurfaced and forced me to reconsider my ideas about him. Written in masterful cursive, the letters reveal the hopes, dreams and doubts of a man and an artist as he confronted himself and an often indifferent world.

The letters covered a brief time frame when I struggled with acceptance and my own sense of identity. Rereading them after forty years gave me a shiver and brought me closer than ever to a man I wished I had known better.

Heavenly Shades of Night



"Water Lily Pond"
Claude Monet

 

The past few evenings I’ve had reason to be thankful for the nation’s official time keepers giving back the hour they yanked from us last fall. The extra minutes at day’s end give such a blessed opportunity to be still and wrap myself in twilight, becoming more the observer than observed.

Watching the long slow fade outside makes me wonder about the reality of perception. What looked at first like oak trees and oleander bushes against a cloudless sky gradually became shifting patterns of greens, grays and blues.

I am fascinated trying to pinpoint the exact moment the oleander leaves turn from olive green to forest green to gray black to lamp black. Did I miss it?

It was these fleeting color shapes in which the Impressionists immersed themselves and in so doing changed the course of modern art. Art critics scoffed at them for sacrificing the true nature of things for a chaos of color blobs. After twilights like today, I am certain that Monet and his friends were opening wide the doors of perception.