Now: Here: This January 20, 2005
(scroll right to walk through the exhibition)
Nick Holliday
Great Barrington, Massachusetts
untitled
collage and gouache on paper
I've been working on a big project based on the (nonfiction) novel "In Cold Blood." This is what I make when I take a break from that.
Misha Donstov
New York City
red, white, and blue
digital image
Anthony Gonzalez
Washington Heights, New York City
untitled
Photoshop collage
In my Mom’s house, in her bedroom, there is a chest of drawers upon which are displayed “los Santitos,” about a dozen religious statues. There stand the saints, and Jesus, and several Virgin Marys. The quality and size of each piece varies as much as the materials from which they were cast – ceramic, plaster and plastic. A few are draped in handmade cloth garments (which have deteriorated considerably over the years). Votive candlelight often illuminates them eerily from below, throwing their features into ghoulish relief. As a child I was fearful of their awesome power. In the evenings I would hurry past the open door to my parent’s room if I knew los Santitos were lit. In the adjacent bedroom, my grandmother would typically be on her knees in the dark praying the rosary in a low Spanish whisper. I have such clear memories of the top of Abuelita’s head, as all she ever did was pray, garden, and crochet. Over her bed there hung a large crucifix and a portrait of Jesus: beatific, in His full crown of thorns, eyes glistening and cast heavenward, perspiration and blood dripping down His forehead and temples. Behind the portrait of Jesus, if you opened the hinged frame, hidden compartments would be revealed that contained the accoutrements, including holy water and written instructions, for a layperson to perform the last rites in the event that someone should attempt to die with no priest handy. Catholic/Christian imagery still holds a mysterious power over me. I respond in ways that I don’t easily understand. As a student of my own emotional responses I observe myself being moved, or disturbed, or comforted. My mother's statues speak to me in ambiguous, evenly modulated tones that I cannot quite decipher. I would very much like to one day have them in my house, displayed prominently, votive candles and all.
Tim Folzenlogen
Washington Heights, New York City
untitled
type
Whassup?
Happy New Now.
I’m still fine-tuning the format for my next series. It will start
next show.
It’s good to be back.
Nice to see you all again.
Harold Wallin
Washington Heights, New York City &
Joel Adas
Brooklyn, New York
untitled
video
We were walking through the Met talking about art and the artist's lot in life when Joel walked in front of the Met's great Anselm Kiefer painting. I took a video clip with my camera and it seemed to capture something. We were actually joking around quite a bit but for me there always seems to be an undercurrent.
Laura & Aineki Traverso
Washington, D.C.
untitled & Lucy
drawings
Laura: from a series that i have just started. i have about 6 of them
so far, and they are all pretty much the same size about 4"x6"
what am i thinking about? just trying to make some art
Aineki: i keep my jealousy close, 'cause it's all mine'
Rosa Naparstek
Washington Heights, New York City
the sun
m ixed media
always the first thing i saw
when entering the front door
wondering mama mama
where did you learn to dream in gold
Renee Tamara Watabe
Verona, New Jersey
Hibernating Woman
photograph
Even though the sun is shining outside my window, I am hibernating in
my room, absorbed with being alone and being here, in my body.
The body – it’s your bottom line.
It is your vehicle, your instrument, your doorway to everything else.
The ultimate portal.
Rosa made a comment at our shindig, something along the lines that
"You are an entire realm unto yourself, "
that each one is like his or her own kingdom.
So no matter how much there is to photograph out there, to see out there,
countries and places to visit in the big wide world, I keep coming back
to the naked geography of my own arms and legs, my stomach, my core, my
small self.
My entire history is recorded here, in my skin, and in my bones.
Today there is enough in here.
My kingdom is in hibernation today and it feels right and in sync with
the winter season.
PP
New York City
Holding Environment
Tape and Newspaper
Friday at 11 AM I was in an working in a publishing office. I had my
camera, but the surroundings were not interesting. The day before,
my coworker Tina had showed me a technique she and her brother invented
and perfected using tape. On my desk I had a newspaper and a tape
dispenser so I made this. Having limited resources sometimes allows me
to relax while feeling contained. At home I have so much art material
that I get overwhelmed. The next morning I went to Florida for a vacation
and made 3 collages from one issue of ArtForum. Florida's warm January
air feels like it will catch you if you fall back; that and being in the
coke-bottle green ocean, it becomes everything.
this is the tina
link
Peter Ferko
Washington Heights, New York City
blink
photograph
The most important thing on my mind right now is the blink moment, described in an book by Malcom Gladwell. I just finished his book The Tipping Point. The blink is (reportedly--it's next on my reading list) that idea or decision that comes in a flash is often just right. The piece I was working on at 16:00 GMT was forced; the printer testing drawing I did just after that is so much more je ne sais quoi and this photo that I stopped for later in the eve was the pinacle of a whole weekend of turning to intuition to move from frustration to satisfaction.
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