October 22, 2004
Welcome:Bienvenidos
This
exhibit is an "art spark" generated by a community of artists
living around the world. Every week, we meet at this virtual studio/gallery
to share work and
the most important thing on our minds.
Artists are invited to join Virtual:Comunidad.
Some material may not be suitable for children
©2004 by artists named
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James Huckenpahler
Washington, D.C.
JARGON WATCH
I’ve been off the radar for the last month or so – tied up with the administrivia of life. So I haven’t had much energy left over to think about art in a broad sense, certainly nothing worth reporting in this context. What has been keeping me from totally flatlining is the occasional moment where I get to see someone else’s work that plants some seeds.
A few weeks ago I ran into poet Buck Downs at an opening. He’s part of a small core of really brilliant writers in DC – the only geniuses in town that seem to get less exposure than visual artists – but that’s what you get for living in a covert city. I first heard him read about four years ago and was really bowled over. He coins beautiful expressions like ‘Afro-Saxon’ and ‘Marijuana Soft Drink,’ kind of like Gareth Branwyn’s ‘Jargon Watch’ in WIRED Magazine, but mythological instead of technological. Or maybe post-technological.
Anyway, when I ran into him, he gave me a preview of his latest project: he’s been visiting the Congressional Cemetery and making poems from rubbings off the tombstones. [An aside – this work makes really clear how typography ‘flavors’ a text.]
I’m not sure how his work informs mine – but I’m sure it does. Some kind of spark being transmitted. Or maybe it’s the recognition of an ideal kind of art that I aspire to: strange and at the same time personal, and tied to a specific instant in time. Buck was kind enough to send me a PDF of the new work, and allow me to share it with VC. Enjoy.
Wendy Newton
Washington Heights, New York City
4+3=7
"We realize in a vague sort of way that we are linked to Mother Nature, affected by and dependent on her forces for our supply, but how close that connection is and its finer essence by which we are actually sustained in every breath of life, has not been explained."
--Dr. Randolph Stone
On my mind: patterns, omens, mystery, simple hidden truths.
Renee Watabe
Verona, New Jersey
Be still, my heart…
I just really like the sunlight in this photo, it has an almost spiritual
tone for me, like the feelings you get in your heart when you are feeling
"elevated" , if we could see them, would they look like flickers
of sunlight?
I have been reading some things by Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
"The First moment in which I seemed to admit to myself in a flash of lightning the possibility of your affection for me being more than dream-work... the first moment was that when you intimated that you cared for me not for a reason, but because you cared for me."
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning to Robert Browning, Nov. 12, 1845
Sonnet 14
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love’s sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile... her look... her way
Of speaking gently...for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'-.
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee, - and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry, -
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore,
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
Sonnets from the Portugese
Mike Guerin
Verona, New Jersey
Connection
What is on my mind?
I have been thinking about how we as a species may be alot more connected than alot of us realize.
I see dopplegangers and hybrids of people that I know and wonder if all of humanity is a recycling or restyling of a select number of entities.
Their sex, race, age, etc. may vary, but their is always some tell tale sign that makes them remind me of someone else that I know or knew.
I even saw a woman at an amusement park who reminded me of George Bush.
A crossing guard that looks like John Kerry.
And a refrigerator repair man that reminded me of John Ashcroft.
Maybe I remind somebody of someone they know.
Peter Ferko
Washington Heights, New York City
Homage to Dominik Lehman
As a photographer, I often see the world as though I am looking through a lens, but as I am less a photographer than an artist who uses photography like paint, I often see interesting images through my life "lens" that I wouldn't likely use. Still there is this temptation to shoot what I like to call "other people's pictures" when they're good.
Friday during the V:C witching hour, I was having an early lunch with Wendy at Rockefeller Center and saw that the skating rink was already open. The skating instructor was rather fetching and was showing a student how to play to the audience during the pirouette. I couldn't resist capturing her on the crazy U.S. map ice, and I remembered that Dominik had a project in mind to shoot video of the Rock.Ctr. rink from above. Here's my rendition--and a fond nod to Dominik...
Peggy Braun
Lennox, Massachussetts
untitled
Fall is waning here but not so quickly. The colors are a little muted but no big rainstorms so the leaves are still intact. These are ferns, heading towards winter--they are quite beautiful even after peak. I love the color, even as it dims but the coming cold is hard to take.
PP
New York City
These gourds and acorns were growing in my brother's yard in Sonoma County. The bowl he got on ebay. He mailed them to me! It needed a little color, the orange is from my keyboard and mouse - virtual is good except when it comes to brothers that you wished lived closer.
Tatiana Ivanovna
New York City
work_life
joy of joys, secrets at work.
ok so maybe we must find our sweets and have them when we can.
someone mysteriously left me a cupcake with a rose on it for my birthday.
joy of joys. secrets galore! i love my job!
end of exhibit
Artists
are invited to
join Virtual:Comunidad.