While Level I started as just another relaxing doodle, I felt some potential growing throughout the process. Perhaps it was the bright background, the subtle gradients, the rounded forms; probably a mixture of it all...but these felt a bit more refined and focused. I quickly started a second and third, and the dreams of large-scale world-building took over.
I could imagine soaring over the hills, valleys, rivers lakes and mountain ranges; overlooking villages, barriers; travelling beyond oceans, underground, even through space...On a small scale the Level series reminds me of snapshots of video-game worlds waiting to be explored. On a large scale I feel like we can step into that world and become enveloped in energy, color, and wonder. The Level series is just getting started but I've got some big plans and high hopes for what could be another ongoing and exciting series. And don't forget to keep doodling...you never know where it'll take you.
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There is always a sense of pride and accomplishment when setting up a big show. Growing up, with dreams of art-stardom in my head, I always pictured the stereotypical white-cube gallery with large-scale artwork adorning its walls; crowds of people clamoring to get close to the latest painting; waiting lists a mile long; the artist, me, happily walking semi-anonymously amongst the crowd almost like a spy in my own party... While the latter few daydreams haven't quite come to pass (on second thought I am fairly anonymous...) Good Air brought that "ideal" setup to life and provided a welcome but somewhat unfamiliar sense that I had "made it" to some extent. Truthfully any time a feeling like that creeps in I reflexively call to mind the many signs that I have not, in fact, "made it", but either way, when I left the gallery on the final day of setup I felt accomplished and even a bit impressed with how nice it all looked. In that moment I felt proud...
One of my favorite moments had to be spreading out 30 or 40 paintings across the gallery floor, taking up almost the entire space. This was less than half of the Pandemic Painting series, but seeing them all laid out brought an almost overwhelming sense of pride and energy. I know I like what I produce and I know I make a lot, but this was maybe the first time it's been laid out in such a way where I could get a sense of, not only the number of paintings, but the quality (IMO at least) as well. Seeing the colors and shapes interact from one composition to the next filled the space with commotion in a way I haven't felt in years and, in some ways, made it all seem worthwhile. As I stood on the ladder overlooking the collection, I felt like I accidentally may have found the perfect way to experience the Pandemic Painting series. My next pitch might have to be somewhere with a footprint large enough for a floor installation of the paintings, forcing the viewer to physically move around the unstretched canvases, viewing them from a variety of angles much more similarly to how they were made in the first place.
There's about a month left for Good Air and I'm definitely entering that melancholy phase of reflection. It's no longer the shiny new object, but one awaiting its demise, so to speak. I loved the setup; I love the results; I loved seeing the collection spread out, but all I can do now is promote it for a few more weeks, hope it's enjoyed and then it all comes down to head back to storage. Was it worth the work? Yes...It almost always is. Was it successful? Yes, I think the show looks fantastic, the art is a great example of my recent work, and I think it showcases the quality of that work. Was it a success? The answer depends on how you measure that and these days I think my definition constantly changes.
Good Air is up at the Thelma Sadoff Center for the Arts through March 21st. Contact me with questions or inquiries and contact the gallery for purchase information while the show is up. If success is measured by how a show looks, then I'll definitely take the win. Good Air had been planned for over two years and is the first time I've shown the same series of work more than once (although with 100 paintings in the series that's gives me at least a few more tries before everything has been on view). With over 25 paintings, many of which were not included in the first showing at MARN in 2022, along with a fantastic space and unique layout, this show definitely brings something new to the table. After a long and tiring setup plus a week or two to reflect, I have to admit this show is one of the better looking I've ever produced. When I grew up dreaming of art stardom, sold-out showings and endless commission lists, this essentially is what I pictured a show might look like when I really "made it". Approaching 40 and having never-quite achieved that "art-star" status, I have to admit it's a bit surreal to see it come to fruition with some of my favorite paintings I've ever made...but more on that in the next blog. Up from February 7th through March 21st, there's just under a month left to check it out.
Head over to the THELMA website for more info or contact me with questions or inquiries. I'm also working on a more personal reflection on the show so check back in on the blog later this week for that as well as in progress setup pictures and my thoughts on the next iteration, should that come to pass. |
Daniel
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