A Q U A R T E R LY P U B L I C AT I O N
FALL 2014
F O R
E M E R G I N G A R T I S T S
VOLUME 3 ISSUE 3
THEARTISTCATALOGUE.COM
FEATURED ARTISTS 04
10
16
40
46
52
Susan Beallor-Snyder
Ming-Jer Kuo
Baoyang Chen
Paula Overbay
Joseph Day
Vladimir Ryklin
Front Cover Artist
FEATURED WRITERS 76
78
82
84
Kirsten
Emmeline
Rich
Ilana
Chen
Fernandez
Freitas
Masad
22
28
Jeanne Heifetz
Musta Fior
34
June Korea
Back Cover Artist
58
64
Danielle Stansberry
Florina Sbircea
86
88
90
Lee Ann
Stephanie Lane
Liz
Norman
Gage
Brown
70
WeegeeWeegee
SUSAN BEALLOR-SNYDER NEW YORK, NEW YORK
Finding balance to pursue my artwork while being fully present and engaged in my family life has been an ongoing struggle for me. My manila rope sculptures are the manifestation of this challenge and represent different periods of my life. The rope twists and turns and what is created are many patterns that take your eye on a journey, as in life where there are ups and downs, health and illness, joy and anger. I do not think about the work itself in my process; I feel the emotions I am going through and the work comes from that deep place within. It is spontaneous as I create and is intuitive in nature, whereby the work speaks to me and directs my movements. The manila rope itself is rough in texture and sticks into my fingers. The act of creating these pieces is as difficult for me as what the work itself represents. www.SusanBeallorSnyder.com
PAGE 5:
HEALING HEARTS, 2014 Natural Manila Rope 79” x 36” PAGE 6 & 7:
CROSSROADS, 2014 Natural Manila Rope 122” x 204” ABOVE / RIGHT:
EXPECTATIONS, 2012 Natural Manila Rope and Patina Copper 130” x 43”
TAC: Tell us about your process and how you go about constructing one of your sculptures. SBS: I begin my pieces with an idea of shape and size. The triangular pieces are created with what I call an informal warp and weft, and I use a free-weaving method to build up the base of the piece. As I work I am thinking about the emotions that are involved, and when the piece begins to hold its shape I start to create what I consider to be the actual work that will be viewed. For me, the work of creating the “underpainting” is
critical to accessing the emotions that lie deep within because the process of the repetitive weaving and knotting over time helps to unleash all those thoughts. About midway into the piece the title of the work comes to me and becomes the driving force for the renewed direction that the piece will take. More recently, for the larger rectangular pieces I use heavier rope as a metaphorical line and don’t rely on the informal warp and weft as a base to hold the piece together. These larger-scale pieces have more negative space and allow the eye a respite while taking the visual journey through the more elaborate sections of knots and weaving. TAC: Your works have a common recurring shape. How did you go about developing this? SBS: Throughout my life, I have been interested in how a material creates a pattern on its own. In much of my work I act as the vehicle for allowing a material/medium to do its own thing using the forces of gravity, air, and chemical reaction to create patterns and design. The very first piece I made created this triangular shape and I found it very pleasing to the eye. As I spent more time contemplating this work I realized that they were shaped like a woman’ s uterus, fallopian tubes and all. I have found this to be a common thread in my work where I do certain things intentionally and then discover that there are aspects of the work that were not intentional but have presented themselves. Are they subconscious? Perhaps, but I accept them as part of the mysterious place where my intense desire to create resides. TAC: Tell us about the weight of these particular installations, and how it corresponds to the emotional challenges they represent.
ABOVE:
BALL AND CHAIN, 2013 Natural Manila Rope
SBS: Many of my sculptures are extremely heavy due to the large amount of rope that goes into them. My nature is to have control over all aspects of my art so being reliant on others to help with the preinstallation that I do to see how the piece looks installed and the actual installation causes frustration. In addition, it becomes another disruption of my creative process that causes me to have to stop and wait till the piece is hung and then taken down so that I can continue the work.
42” x 11”
TAC: What is next for you as an artist? SBS: I am in the beginning stages of a very large installation that involves sound and video incorporated into the installation along with the rope sculptures. My goal is to create an environment that would allow the visitor to be enveloped by the emotions that I strive to evoke from my sculptures.
SUSAN BEALLOR-SNYDER
09
BAOYANG CHEN NEW YORK, NEW YORK
My diasporic experiences made China seem at quite a distance and seemingly unrelated to my immediate Western experience. I want to think in terms of both cultures; it was my digital training that more immediately helped to pave the way to a more global perspective because, despite the differences in software and programming, there is a universalizing base to the digital flow. In this project, De-ShanShui, I look through the lens of the present at the past, and in particular at the Chinese painterly tradition of imitation (transmission by copying). Imitation and working with traditional methodology are the core concepts of Shan Shui paintings. I feed a batch of 104 images of well-regarded Shan Shui paintings into my algorithms and repeat this process with different parameters, which provided me with thousands of visuals to work with and choose from. I convert the brushwork to create new arrangements of pixels and color information based on the original earlier Shan Shui paintings. My working tools are my self-coded algorithms that reconfigure the raw information in the original Shan Shui paintings; these use computational formulae to reconstruct the original tableaux in order to spawn new ones. My digital methodologies provide working techniques of universalism, repetition, randomness, and effortless action. www.baoyangchen.com
PAGE 10 & 11:
DOOR-GOD, 2014 Inkjet on Chinese Canvas 40” x 40” OPPOSITE:
AUTUMN RIVER, 2014 Inkjet on Chinese Canvas ABOVE:
MOUNTAIN RAIN, 2014 Inkjet on Chinese Canvas 41” x 40”
BAOYANG CHEN
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ABOVE:
GARDEN LIU, 2014 Inkjet on Chinese Canvas 31” x 40” RIGHT:
PRACTICE, 2014 Inkjet on Chinese Canvas
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TAC: What drew you to developing this idea? BC: Setting foot in the United States in 2011 distanced me from the blanketing experience of Chinese culture, and gave me the opportunity to deal with my Chinese heritage from a more globally integrated mindset and in a project based on abstraction and reconstruction. My diasporic experiences made China seem at quite a distance and seemingly unrelated to my immediate Western experience. I knew I wanted to think in terms of both cultures but at first could not consciously find a way to frame the issues to do that. If anything, it was my digital training that more immediately helped to pave the way to a more global perspective because, despite the differences in software and programming, there is a universalizing base to the digital flow. I want to look through the lens of the present at the past. Since we no longer live in the past, accessing Chinese culture or any culture directly through artifacts and artworks and without new historical perspectives, proper interpretation, or translation does not serve the purpose of comprehending it. Yet each time we try to revisit aspects of China’s long-gone culture, the echoes stirred by our scrutiny inevitably change the shape of Chinese culture in a process of accretion. Our new interpretations of Chinese culture are eventually added to Chinese culture, an idea that is central to my work and this project. TAC: Walk us through the process of creating one of these computer-generated images. BC: 1. I get images of Chinese paintings on 8 x 10 film then drum scan them for the best image resolution. 2. I feed a batch of 104 images from above into my algorithms and repeat this process with different parameters, which provides me with thousands of visuals to work with and choose from. The foundation of the above process is my set of three self-coded algorithms that reconfigure the raw information in the original Shan Shui paintings. 3. After seeing the images created from my algorithms, I use the following rules to visually choose from among them. I might look for: •White negative space, irregular shapes. •Harmony between white leftover spaces and image. Since the negative space, the breathing room, is the key component of the tradition, this rule corresponds to the traditional Shan Shui painting composition. •The degree to which images fill the picture plane recreates that of Shan Shui painting tradition or the opposite.
•Intriguing Baroque compositions -- the presence of an allusion to visual action extending beyond the confines of the viewable frame. TAC: Once processed, the paintings warp into angular topographic landscapes. How do you feel the appearance of your images changes the viewer’s perception of the original artworks? BC: I tend to think they’re two bodies of works from two artists totally interested in different areas. I convert the brushwork to create new arrangements of pixels and color information based upon the original earlier Shan Shui paintings. The Shan Shui paintings look very different; mine are much digitalized. My intention is not necessarily to change the viewer’s perception but to let the viewer notice my digital works and original paintings share something in common -- repetition. In some of his works the painter who made my source paintings repeated a single brushwork appropriated from the paintings of past masters and then filled the entire paper with it. He isolated one brushwork, pulled it out of context, then reprogrammed and repeated it to give it a new meaning. This echoes my attempt of reconfiguration. Repetition is a very important aspect of my project; this is where I want to draw viewers’ attention when comparing my works with the original. It is also the vehicle of imitation (copying from other masters). The Shan Shui painters repeatedly imitated the paintings of the genre before them. In individual imitation the painter may try to “copy” the original painting as closely as possible, which eventually introduces subtle variations to the standardization and leads to progressions in the large time scale. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? BC: As anyone else might say, keep working. It could be the relationship between the image and information it conveys. I have started a little project after De Shan Shui. I fed images of paintings into a new program that samples the center portion of the image and fills the frame with the sample. I repeat this process until the image eventually deteriorates into a solid color field. Ideas for this project are not comprehensive yet; I want to take this as a future plan. It opens a lot of possibilities. Some might say it seems link to chaos theory, like the universe is expanding while accelerating; without new input the information density will decrease rapidly. From another angle, it could be topological mixing; the system will evolve over time so that any given region will eventually overlap with any other given region as if there’s a kind of unifying process.
BAOYANG CHEN
15
JOSEPH DAY NEW YORK, NEW YORK My art is a reflection and exploration of my self through New York City. Using found objects and materials collected from sidewalks, subways, and construction sites, my work is a tactile study of collage versus décollage, depicting personal themes of love, loss, disenchantment and expiration. Through my process, I attempt to preserve and curate moments of urban, unconscious “beauty” that would otherwise be noticed only in passing.
www.josephdayart.tumblr.com
OPPOSITE:
REMEMBER 1, 2012 Found Wood, Found Poster, Newspaper, Acr ylic Paint, Wheat Paste 26” x 55” ABOVE:
GHOST, 2013 Found Poster, Found Wood, Wheat Paste, Acr ylic Paint 35” x 34”
ABOVE:
PAST, 2014 Found Photograph, Found Wood, Acr ylic Paint, Newspaper, Wheat Paste 24” x 25” OPPOSITE:
FAKE MOSS, 2014 Found Wood, Found Magazine, Acr ylic Paint, Wheat Paste 16” x 26”
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TAC: Tell us a bit about the balance in your work between found art and intervention.
TAC: How do you feel fashion and commercialism enter your artistic practice?
JD: I find art and intervention to often be one and the same. Through intervention, found objects can become canvases and ads can become art. The oversaturation of media can either be ignored or interacted with, so I’ve chosen to form a different type of dialogue. Aside from the admitted “adbusting” pleasure of defacing a public poster, I’ve also discovered a cathartic quality to curating otherwise white noise media and making it more beautiful or “true” in my eyes. I enjoy taking something unappreciated and turning it into something I love.
JD: I’ve always admired the fashion landscape from a distance and have wanted to interact with it in some way. I enjoy mixing the elegance of fashion imagery with a grittier, less-controlled aesthetic. While fashion and commercialism can both project identities, I seek to strip those identities away.
TAC: Your practice involves the partial covering of underlying visual information. What brought you to this technique? JD: I’ve found that people naturally want to “define” what they’re looking at. By choosing what I reveal, I can attempt to control their need to understand what they’re seeing, allowing the art to emote rather than just depict.
TAC: What is next for you as an artist? JD: I look forward to potentially exhibiting in the near future but am also eager to keep working without any particular audience in mind. Moving forward, I look to start experimenting with solvents and a more subtractive process. I’ve also got a few Jay-Z/Beyoncé tour posters that I’m excited to work with in addition to a poster of Iggy Azalea and two posters of Daria Werbowy.
PLEASE, 2013 Found Book, Found Wood, Spraypaint, Acr ylic Paint, Wheat Paste, Newspaper 24” x 25”
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REMEMBER 2,2013 Found Wood, Newspaper, Acr ylic, Wheat Paste 26” x 55”
JOSEPH DAY
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MUSTA FIOR L A ROCHELLE, FRANCE
Musta Fior is an autodidact. He has made no artistic studies, or taken classes in art. He began to collage approximately four years ago, just for fun. After posting his first collage on social networks and finding that collage was appreciated, he posted a second, then a third. Since then, over time, meetings, and very good feedback concerning his work, collage became a real passion. He mainly produces different series that can interact with each other or not. These series are figurative beings or deconstructed such as the “Nudes� series, which is a work about the body. For that purpose, he regularly immerses himself in archives, old papers, magazines, or books to extract images from which he works on a specific set. These sets usually include ten or thirty collages. In cutting the elements used for these series he keeps all the small cuts of remaining paper, and it is with them that he realizes a large abstract series, completely instinctively. Musta Fior also works in digi collage for magazines, but prefers paper and glue. He also collaborates with international collagists. www.mustafior.tumblr.com
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KURIOUS FLO # 4, 2014 Cut and Aaste Handmade Collage on Paper 7” x 8” ABOVE:
NU AL # 5, 2013 Cut and Paste Handmade Collage on Paper 7” x 8”
OPPOSITE:TOP
NU AL # 7, 2013 Cut and Paste Handmade Collage on Paper 7” x 8” OPPOSITE BOTTOM:
NUDE # 1, 2013 Cut and Paste Handmade Collage on hard paper 6” x 8” framed
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TAC: What draws you to the human form, and what does collage offer you in regard to this subject matter? MF: At a rummage sale of books, I found a big book of over 500 pages devoted to black-and-white pictures of female nudes. I flipped through the book a few times and kept it near my library because the cover was cut in half, missing a piece. I became interested in this book again, looked at the pictures again, and found these pictures of girls were actually nothing special. I then proceeded to tear the pages and cut out the pictures. I started the series “All Nude” (also called Calendar Girls # 1, with reference to the schedule for truckers or military). I cut the body to the rule, and I covered three of these places erotic girls cut letters intertwined. I wanted to desexualize these girls so that they were more objects of desire. Last year a musician who loved this series asked me to make collages that could be included with the purchase of his CD. I said that since I had already started cutting the book of nudes, I could go even further in deconstructing the body to invent their new forms. Initially I thought there should be five collages to accompany the CD, but in fact since the project did not work I made ten more collages. These attracted the interest of an
independent Italian publisher who offered to publish an artzine comprising most of these collages, which became the “Nudes” series. What interested me about these bodies was to be able to remove the sexuality of these girls and that these new forms do not want to give other women or like their men to fantasize over. I wanted to eventually completely disappear this live continuing to cut. I thus produced the series “Kurious Flo” in reference to Tropique by Henry Miller, and one text on women existing on other planets written by Jacques Sternberg. Then there was the series “Vis Mi” (the second Calendar girls); two others will soon be completed. TAC: Tell us a bit about your practice and the use of found imagery. MF: With regard to my sources, I use a little bit of everything, all kinds of magazines, old books, postcards .... but I like the images of books or magazines from the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s because they are more interesting than those of today and the paper is sometimes stronger. But I also like to mix my sources such as for the series “Al Nu,” which includes recent photographs in black and white, a paper cut from an old schoolbook, and letters cut out of magazines from the ’70s. For series of abstract collages, I mix all sources with the remains of cuts that I keep in a box.
MUSTA FIOR
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TAC: What initially drew you to collage as a medium? MF: I started gluing about four years ago, just by chance on a summer day when it was raining. I used to post drawings / illustrations of various artists on Facebook, and I said to myself, why not post my collage. I was a little nervous but the result was that people liked it. I then started to make a second collage, then a third. When I started, I created kinds of scenes with a legend. Then, through meeting people on the network, I started to collaborate with other artist collagists in different media (including playing cards), which released me and allowed me to go to things more abtraites. Besides the body work, I create a lot of abstract collage; a book was released by an Irish publisher with these collage series. Today I like to make series, constantly trying to find ideas and propose approximately ten collages. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? MF: My idea is to continue to look for ideas, to produce series. I hope to meet other publishers to publish books. I also want to continue to meet other collagists to achieve new collaborations. Finally, I had a great show with a series of abstract collages that will be presented in a historic monument in my city.
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OPPOSITE TOP:
NUDE # 13, 2013 Cut and Paste Handmade Collage on hard paper 6” x 8” framed OPPOSITE BOTTOM LEFT:
NU AL #11, 2013 Cut and Paste Handmade Collage on Paper 7” x 8” OPPOSITE BOTTOM RIGHT:
NUDE # 5, 2013 Cut and Paste Handmade Collage on hard paper 6” x 8” framed
VIS MI # 8, 2014 Cut and Paste Handmade Collage on Paper 6” x 7” framed
MUSTA FIOR
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JEANNE HEIFETZ B RO O K LY N, N E W YO R K
I am fascinated by everything we are learning about the way the brain processes visual information. We are hardwired to seek pattern, yet patterns that are easy to discern don’t hold our attention. It’s a paradox: we crave order, yet too much order bores us. When the pattern is elusive, when images refuse to resolve easily into a comprehensible arrangement, our neural pathways remain engaged, questioning, alive. I like to make work that challenges this edge of perception, using close tones, shadow, layering, and reflection to keep the eye and brain moving, inquiring. I use naturally reflective substrates and pigments so that different layers of the work catch the light at different angles. Your perception of the piece depends on where you stand. The structures I’m exploring come from foams, a visual hybrid of order and randomness that challenges us to decipher its underlying architecture, and in the process makes our synapses buzz. www.jeanneheifetz.com
TAC: Tell us what initially drew you to the structure of foam, its lack of permanence, and what it symbolizes. JH: I believe that each of us has our own set of resonant frequencies – certain structures or palettes or types of marks that speak powerfully to us. I have this kind of powerful response to the structure of foams, which occur throughout the universe at every scale, from the clustering of galaxies to the growth of sea sponges. Their appeal is not specifically their impermanence, but their constant shifts in form: they start as perfect spheres and become increasingly complex polygons that even mathematicians struggle to understand. Scientists are now discovering that even at the cellular level, randomness plays a large -- perhaps even dominant -- role in all living things; these visual amalgams of randomness and order speak to an underlying truth about the natural world. TAC: How would you explain your process from idea to completion? JH: In the Surface Tension series I work in layers, masking out a layer, mixing and applying pigment, removing that mask and
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laying down the mask for the next layer, and so on. I create the masks in two ways. In some cases, I refer to photographs of foam structures. Each layer comes from a different photographic source, and the sources are often very different in scale. I also work through improvisation, without an overall composition in mind, but still following the physical rules that govern the structure of foams (and various other natural phenomena) to build up the layer. TAC: What artists do you look to for inspiration and why? JH: Nonliving, I’d have to say Paul Klee, Fred Sandback, Sol Lewitt, Ruth Asawa, Gego and many of her fellow Latin American geometric abstract artists. In each case I would say I admire the clarity and strength of their vision, and their willingness to follow – or push -- an idea as far as it can go. There isn’t room to list all the living artists who inspire me. I keep a spreadsheet of artists whose work I’m following, and I’m up to nearly 700 names. I love discovering new work and sharing my discoveries. I like any work that’s so good it inspires me to go home and make better work – not to make that work, but to work harder on my own.
TAC: What is next for you as an artist? PAGE 28 & 29:
SURFACE TENSION 22, 2013 Quar tzite, Copper, Graphite, Bronze, Zinc, Nickel, Wax 24” x 24” OPPOSITE:
SURFACE TENSION 19, 2013 Slate, Quar tzite, Graphite, Bronze, Nickel, Zinc, Stainless Steel, Wax 6” x 13” BELOW:
SURFACE TENSION 6, 2012 Slate, Hematite, Iron, Wax 8.5” x 11”
JH: I have begun exploring the foam structures through drawing, working on translucent papers like vellum and gampi that enable me to continue working in layers. The pieces on paper become an investigation of the process of slow accretion by which many natural structures grow. At each juncture, I make a decision based on the physical laws that govern the structure of foams, but at that moment I have no idea how each of these individual small decisions will affect the overall composition. There’s nothing better than being surprised when you step back and look at your work – you remember making all the individual marks, and yet almost don’t recognize the finished piece as your own.
JEANNE HEIFETZ
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OPPOSITE:
UNTITLED, 2014 Walnut and Pigment Black Ink on Gampi 7” x 10” ABOVE:
SURFACE TENSION: BASALT LAYERS, 2010 Acid-etched Glass, Silver Wire, Stainless-Steel Mesh 10” x 10” x 2”
JEANNE HEIFETZ
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JUNE KOREA NEW YORK, NEW YORK
It was about twenty-five years ago. I still remember the time when I was playing with dolls. The figures that looked just like human beings were talking, moving, and breathing, just like me, just like us. I truly believed that they were alive. However, one day, I realized I completely forgot how they were doing. They just stopped talking to me. I do not remember when this started exactly, but I noticed they became more and more silent as I grew up, as I lost my youth. And they have never talked to me again since. To realize and admit what happened to me was quite sad. I really wanted to see the world where they lived. Eventually, with my camera, I have invented a way to see their world again. I named this way “As I slept, I left my camera over there.” I have been taking photographs since 2001, and it has given me amazing experiences in my life. I
could see the beauty of a little flower by the road, the sorrow of a city standing by to be destroyed, and the happiness on people’s faces. Everything was new to me, even the smallest of things. These things were all hidden or not apparent to me before I began taking pictures. When I made a decision to peep at the little dolls’ life with my camera, the same miracle happened again. At first glance, it did not occur to me that such little human figurines with unchanging facial expressions would have any life of their own. However, when I looked at them through the viewfinder and as my camera moved, they started to reveal their emotions that were all once invisible. They
smiled and cried, they felt happy and lonely in my camera just as we do in our reality. Their life seen through my camera was truly fascinating. My camera has worked as a bridge that connects my world to their world, and also connects reality that people believe in to another reality that I believe in. I decided to further develop my invention as investigating the possibilities of the dolls’ life rather than just being an observer. I started intervening in their lives by inviting them into the world where I live. I would bring them what I think they would want to play with and sometimes I would take them outside
to break the boundary between their reality and ours, and most importantly, I always tell them my stories and feelings as if they are my close friends while I am documenting their narrative. They are like sponges that absorb what I think, and they are like mirrors that reflect who I am. They became representations of my emotions and my body of work. They are not just recreations of the human character but exist as myself in the photographs I produce. I believe they are still breathing in their world as our old memory remembers.
www.junekorea.com
OPPOSITE:
080001, 2008 Archival Pigment Print 40” x 40” ABOVE:
120557, 2012 Archival Pigment Print 26.7” x 40” RIGHT:
110557, 2011 Archival Pigment Print 40” x 32”
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123638, 2012 Archival Pigment Print 26.7” x 40”
JUNE KOREA
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TAC: What sort of reality are you conveying in your images? JK: I believe I am a visual artist who uses photography as a bridge to invite viewers to my constructed fantasies. As a visual artist and storyteller, my goal is to create my imagined narrative and translate it into the real world. My hope for my work is that it will serve as a catalyst that stimulates people to remember what they have lost and what they once believed in. TAC: What photographers that work with props and miniatures are you drawn to for inspiration and why? JK: I was not really inspired by any photographers or artists prior to the beginning of my project. However, while developing my work, I was introduced to other remarkable artists who became great inspirations for my work such as Quay Brothers, John Frame, and Ron Mueck. I work with a different medium than they do, I work with my own narratives and fantasies. However, I study their work in great detail to extend my limited
imagination. Their work has helped me grow as an artist and added more joy to my photographic projects. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? JK: I used to believe that I was only a photographer, so the image was the only medium that I stayed with. However, I recently finished a stop-motion animation project with my dolls for the first time, and learned that it was an entirely different experience in motion versus still images. I realized I was limiting myself to a small world with my shortsighted view. The greatest possibilities for artists always exist in different forms and mediums in the world. After the motion project, I found that anything and everything can be a tool used to express myself and convey imagination to my viewers. My next goal as an artist is to find new methodologies for my constructed fantasies in which my dolls are living, and I hope it will give them a better life in a better environment. I will send you an invitation when the new world is ready for visitation.
OPPOSITE:
110670, 2011 Archival Pigment Print 40” x 26.7” RIGHT:
126088, 2012 Archival Pigment Print 26.7” x 40”
JUNE KOREA
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MING-JER KUO NEW YORK, NEW YORK Having grown up in Taipei City, the capital of Taiwan, I have been interested in urban areas since childhood. The experience of living in New York City, one of the great metropolises of the world, inspired me to further research city and urban development. My work, “The Walker” series, is a demonstration of my perception of pedestrian rhythm and patterns in New York City. With my digital mise-en-scène approach to capturing repeated walking gestures and patterns within street scenes, I attempt to express the unseen order that operates within the urban system. www.mingjerkuo.com
TAC: Walk us through your process from idea to venue to completion. MJK: Walking on the streets in New York City is an extraordinary experience for me. In regard to people crossing grand avenues, I was always thinking about the way to demonstrate the rhythm of this metropolis. The walking pace of the pedestrians partially displays the rhythms of cities. For example, the walking speed in Tokyo is different from the speed in Taipei City. I then decided to juxtapose all the poses of pedestrians in a frame of cityscape. The shooting of each frame is pretty much what I had been doing on the streets with my large-format film camera. I did site survey on the streets and made sketches with my camera. I then shot a lot of pictures of the chosen scene during a certain period of time. Composing digitally, I staged the scene by recalling all the characters that I have seen with my eyes to echo what I conceived and received onsite. TAC: One cannot look at your images without thinking of the album cover to Abbey Road by The Beatles. How do you feel your photographs reference pop culture?
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MJK: Honestly, I didn’t think about Abbey Road at the beginning of creating this series. It came out coincidentally but works really well. The reference of pop culture definitely allows viewers more association with and interpretation of my work. It is easier for the viewers to engage with this piece due to the déjà vu experience that has been deeply impressed by mass media. TAC:. What photographers do you find inspiration from and why? MJK: During the process of making this work, I went back to see some famous photographers’ works on New York City, such as Berenice Abbott. I tried to understand how they saw this metropolis from a vintage viewpoint. I also went over MC Escher’s work repeatedly. His approach of using patterns and creating elusive visual effects inspires me a lot. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? MJK: After graduation from School of Visual Arts, it is time to face reality. I simply want to survive as an artist in New York City. This is the only thing I want to do at this moment.
PAGE 40 &41:
UNION SQUARE, E 15TH ST, MANHATTAN, NYC Archival Pigment Print 20”x30” PAGE 42 TOP:
E BROADWAY, MARKET ST, MANHATTAN, NYC Archival Pigment Print 20”x30” PAGE 42 BOTTOM:
5TH AVE, 21ST ST, MANHATTAN, NYC Archival Pigment Print 20”x30” PAGE 43 TOP:
10TH AVE, W 23RD ST, MANHATTAN, NYC Archival Pigment Print 20”x30” PAGE 43 BOTTOM:
BETHESDA FOUNTAIN, CENTRAL PARK, MANHATTAN, NYC Archival Pigment Print 20”x30” OPPOSITE PAGE 44:
SENECA AVE, GATE AVE, QUEENS, NYC Archival Pigment Print 20”x30” ABOVE:
10TH AVE, 18TH ST, MANHATTAN, NYC Archival Pigment Print 20”x30”
MING-JER KUO
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PAULA OVERBAY BROO KLY N , NE W YO R K I imagine nature at a cellular level: molecules as metaphor. At that level the planet is always in flux as transformation or growth or decay. Movement is constant. The energy that I seek keeps the weather systems cycling, resides over growth in petrie dishes, and changes our consumed bread into useful body cells. I am attracted to cycles, migrations, murmurations, swarms, constellations, and hurricanes. I demonstrate patterns of cells through the accretion of small dots. www.paulaoverbay.com
TURQUOIS RAIN, 2012 Acr ylic on Paper 22� x 28�
YELLOW MOON, 2014 Acr ylic on Paper 11” x 11”
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RED, 2011 Acr ylic on Paper 11” x 11”
PAULA OVERBAY
49
TAC: What prompted your interest in constellations and the cosmos? PO: It was a slow dawning of understanding that began at a residency in New Hampshire. I walked out onto the porch of my studio one morning to find a cocoon unfolding in the sun just at eye level. It was a luna moth as big as my palm. The dots were large and soft at the edges and the surface was a complex color group of medium-value greens made luminous. It dried its wings and flew away a short time later. I went about my day too and forgot the event. However, several years later I was painting medium tone green grounds with black blurry islands that diminished to scattered black dots. Later on I was sitting in my garden watching monarch butterflies. Bees were busy; as evening came on the moths were out with the fireflies. The stars were appearing and were the same size as the fireflies in front of me. This cycle was happening as it had been happening every evening with no effort on my part. I was a mere observer in the mysteries of the planet, but now I was becoming a searcher for cyclic energy and eventually found my way to the cellular level of life. TAC: Tell us about the creative process behind one of your images. PO: I use small squeeze bottles with nibs attached that will make dots, carefully, one by one. The larger dots, like planets, are scattered first in a random way across the surface. I cannot proceed further until I understand the next step. There are no preparatory drawings and I cannot remove or deduct an element once added. In art school my enthusiastic painting was 80 percent work and 20 percent thinking; now it is reversed. I keep about a dozen unfinished paintings of various sizes and background colors in process so that one can present a solution at any one time. I am searching for ways to transfer pattern to mass to line that echo the growth and change of cells. I must let them develop. My eyes are focused on the immediate dots being placed one after another at close proximity so every twenty minutes I must check on the composition and let my hand rest. It is resolved when the energy appears to be working through the piece and transformation has taken place. TAC: What artists inspire you and why? PO: I admire women aboriginal painters for their diligence and focus and their willingness to exclude all elements except those given to their clan. I also admire Paul Klee for his sense of play and staying at the heart of the matter. In the work of both the aboriginal painters and Paul Klee there is simplicity and mystery plus the emotion of art making that is observable. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? PO: My future work is in the atmosphere and the cycles of weather. I want to know more about hurricanes and lightning and thunder and rain, and the monumental amounts of energy that surround our planet. We are all sensitized to global warming and I want my efforts as an artist to play a part. 50 THE ARTIST CATALOGUE
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OPPOSITE TOP:
ELECTRIC CLOUD, 2013 Acr ylic on Paper 22” x 28” OPPOSITE MIDDLE:
COSMOS, 2013 Acr ylic on Paper 22” x 28” OPPOSITE BOTTOM:
THUNDER, 2012 Acr ylic on Paper 22” x 28” ABOVE:
STRATUS, 2012 Acr ylic on Paper 22” x 28”
PAULA OVERBAY
51
VLADIMIR RYKLIN QUEENS, NEW YORK I am a storyteller. I like to play in my work, fill it with wonder and activity. At first my vistas appear to be populated by numerous characters frozen in time, but further examination serves to reanimate them, each viewer supplying a unique ending to the vignettes. Whether the subject is a character borrowed from literature or theater, history of art, or even conjured up from some undocumented corner of my own psyche, I hope it inspires thought and puzzlement. My paintings provide a place in which everybody can dream and explore while contemplating the depth of my subconscious as well as your own. www.RyklinFineArt.com
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DON QUIXOTE, 1998 Oil on Canvas 48” x 60” OPPOSITE:
FLOWER OF INSPIRATION, 2007 Oil on Canvas 11” x 14” RIGHT:
DREAMS UNFULFILLED, 1985 Oil on Canvas 36” x 36” BELOW:
DERBY, 1999 Oil on Canvas 20” x 24”
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TAC: Your work features vibrant colors and elaborate textures. Can you elaborate on the role that color and texture play in your paintings? VR: While the colors and textures in a painting might be the first thing a viewer notices, there’s a lot more to that than meets the eye. In my work color and texture have two main roles: describing and composing. I always plan some of my color choices ahead of time—and it opens up an entirely new door to creativity. TAC: The vodka bottle is a recurring image in your paintings. What does this symbolize to you? VR: Being born and raised in Soviet Russia, the image of a vodka bottle for me as an artist is not just a drink, it symbolizes an escape from a hostile, damaging reality, a gateway to “the better future” that never comes, a futile attempt to find hope in hopeless desolation. TAC: Which artists have proven most influential to your creative maturation? VR: Bruegel, Bosch, Chagall. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? VR: With God’s help, hopefully I will continue my journey and be able to show you many more of this world’s wonders through my eyes.
I HAVE A GUITAR, 2002 Oil on Canvas 48” X 60”
VLADIMIR RYKLIN
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FLORINA SBIRCEA NEW YORK, NEW YORK My work draws inspiration from the natural world and the continuous transformations within it. Looking at a reality that is always changing and trying to find stillness within it, the work alludes to our own nature. I often ponder the apparently negligible aspects or overlooked facets of this reality as they reveal to me a world of interconnectedness. The materials are mainly metalpoints and dry pigments, which I use to create abstract artworks in a process that is slow, laborious, and contemplative. The process itself is an integral part of my work. My studio practice of grinding the pigments to make my own colors as well as the use of metalpoint investigates the nature of painting and opens a space for new discoveries. It is a long and meticulous course that leads to a meditative state and allows me to reflect on nature and time. www.florinasbircea.com
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HUDSON FALL, 2013 Gold, Brass, Copper, Silverpoint, Pigment on Panel 16” x 20” OPPOSITE:
RAIN#15, 2013 Silverpoint on Prepared Paper 16” x 12” RIGHT:
TALKING TO A TREE II, 2013 Copper, Gold, Silverpoint, Pigment on Prepared Paper 16” x 12” BELOW:
SHADE OF A FLOWER, 2013 Silver and Pigment on Panel 30” x 30”
FLORINA SBIRCEA
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LEFT:
CLOUD, 2013 Silver and Pigment on Panel 30” x 30” RIGHT:
SOUND OF RAIN, 2013 Silver and Pigment on Panel 30” x 30”
TAC: What drew you to the use of metalpoints in your artwork? FS: I think it is my contemplative disposition and a great interest in the art of mark making that led me to the use of metalpoints. For years I have been making my own egg tempera colors, and occasionally I would mix egg tempera and silverpoint. In the past few years I became increasingly interested in the character of the mark made with the silverpoint and in this way the work became more about the use of the silverpoint line. In my current work silverpoint is dominant but I use other metals like gold, copper, brass, and aluminum. TAC: Can you tell us about the process, both mental and physical? FS: Working with metalpoints is a slow, long and even monotonous process, yet fascinating. I consider the process an important part of the work. For me it starts with the setting of the ground, and the support is either paper or panel. I work with dry pigments that I grind myself to create colors that are unique for each piece. As an example, the blue hue in Rain #15 is made with lapis and silverpoint, while Talking to a Tree II uses a hematite pigment and various metals. Every step that follows means adding and never removing, and each metalpoint mark is visible in the end. Once the metal marks the surface it leaves a permanent trace. It is a meditative way of composing the surface that requires awareness and precision. I welcome the
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chance element since it is already there from the beginning in the oxidation of the metals, except for gold. I learned to accept it before it even happens, and to expect it knowing that it occurs, inevitably producing its own patterns in the work. TAC: Working with metalpoint can be a time- and laborintensive endeavor. Can you describe how long an average piece of art typically takes to create? FS: The size of the art piece is only one aspect and does not necessarily dictate the time I spend working on it. Each piece I create is different in the way of composing the layers, lines, density and its particular treatment as it is revealed to me through the process. It may take weeks, beginning with the preparation of the ground and the building of layers upon layers to create the surface I want. There are many stops and starts during this time until a painting is complete. The metalpoint is a thin wire that leaves only particles of the metal, and repeated touches are needed to cover the surface or to achieve certain tones. It is as if with every touch I count time. But ultimately for me the making of a piece is about the perception of time. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? FS: I plan to be at work in the studio and to continue making art. I feel that there is a lot to explore, and studio work for me is also research. Lately I experimented with various kinds of paper and I am considering learning how to make my own paper. And of course I want to show and share with my audience.
FLORINA SBIRCEA
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DANIELLE MARIE STANSBERRY LA GRANDE, OREGON
My sculptures are a reflection of my interest in forms that evolve and have evolved and the skills that have developed in order for creatures to survive and thrive. I am interested in the inner workings of these organisms; their adaptations to inhospitable environments, reliance on community, and mechanisms for protection. The symbiotic and parasitic relationships that creatures have with each other as well as their adaptations parallel the psychological make-up and behaviors of humans. My ceramic sculptures are a mixture of biological life-forms and fantasy. They reference both the microscopic and the larger terrestrial and aquatic creatures. Clay is my prominent medium, which is influenced by a variety of materials and media that create perceived texture and color to show decay and life in my forms. Clay allows me to create these forms, as well as a close relationship with a material that is organic in nature. My forms are meant to make the viewer wonder about the reality of my creatures and their origin, as well as leave viewers curious about the media used to create these specimens.
www.stansbd.wix.com/danielle-stansberr y
ABOVE:
OVALI MANIBUS, 2014 Ceramic Sculpture 9” x 7” x 6” OPPOSITE:
SANQUIS LEVIS, 2014 Ceramic Sculpture 7” x 7” x 7”
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OPPOSITE:
POLYPUS ROTES, 2014 Ceramic Sculpture 3” x 3” x 4” FAR ABOVE:
QUINQUE CRUS, 2014 Ceramic Sculpture 5” x 5” x 6” ABOVE:
DENTIBUS SPINAE (BACK), 2014 Ceramic Sculpture 7” x 5” x 6” RIGHT:
DENTIBUS SPINAE (FRONT), 2014 Ceramic Sculpture 7” x 5” x 6”
DANIELLE MARIE STANSBERRY
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TAC: Anatomy and physiology play a major role in your sculptures. Where did your interest in biological forms originate? DMS: I have always been fascinated with biology and animal behavior. I actually began my college career wanting to get a degree in biology. I decided to go with art instead but I have a psychology minor, which allowed me to learn more about the evolution and behavior of species. Much of what my work reflects is my own personal research – watching documentaries and researching weird or odd creatures of the deep ocean, or even the odd evolution of some plants. My forms reflect my research and studies as well as my own fantastical element that allow my forms to become their own creatures or specimens for the audience to study. TAC: How does sculpture allow you to express your artistic vision compared to other mediums? DMS: Sculpture allows me to physically see, touch, and mold my visions. It is so rewarding and more instantaneously gratifying for me than other ways of making at the moment. I love the feeling of the clay in my hands, so malleable that it feels limitless as to what I can create. There are so many different ways to treat the clay, unfired and fired, that it allows me creativity in my techniques and skills as well as in evolving the sculptures I form. TAC: Which artists do you look to for creative inspiration? DMS: Ernest Haeckel is one of my favorites right now and his forms helped influence some of my ideas in my work. He was very interested in the evolution of species and recording what these creatures may have looked like and I feel a connection to that in my work. I also look to ceramic artist Angela Cunningham and her fantastical organic forms and wonderful textures and techniques for making. One final artist that inspired me right before I began this body of work was a ceramic artist I met in Asheville, North Carolina, named Genevieve Van Zandt whose work is also very organic, bright, and has fantastical elements. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? DMS: At the moment I am enjoying the fruits of graduation and continuing to make artwork while making my transition from college into the world!
COMMUNITATI NATURAE, 2014 Ceramic Sculpture 14” x 14” x 10”
DANIELLE MARIE STANSBERRY
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WEEGEE WEEGEE LONDON, ENGLAND
‘aMetanoitoi’ is a surreal journey through a psychogeography inspired by dreams, Victorian scrapbooks and characters, amalgamations of childhood fantasies fueled by a passion for archeology, ancient sagas, myths, fables, and mysteries as well as a lifelong interest in the saints and sinners of the Catholic church. The body of work consists of a collection of collages. The title derives from the Greek word ametanoitoi, those who don’t regret. It fuses various groups of portraiture depicting reinterpretations of Victorian characters, saints, ancient gods, mermaids, and mollusks, some based on real personalities, others fantasy. The collages incorporate original nineteenth-century cartes de visite miniature portraits sourced from car boot sales and ephemera fairs. These once-important objects of representation have now often become an anonymous trace of human existence. Posing in studios, frozen in time, the portrayed seem to become actors ready to interpret the characters that are projected onto them, whether real or fantasy. Coming back to life in these collages, these nameless players are memorialized and imbued with new histories. The titles create a narrative that is integral to the artwork. Word plays create juxtapositions with the imagery and establish new dimensions of meaning, giving room to the interpretation of collectively shared cultural memories. www.weegeeweegee.co.uk
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PROFESSOR HUXLEY IS FEELING ARGUMENTATIVE, 2014 Mixed Media Collage PAGE 71:
MISS CELIA LOVES HER NEW CARNIVAL MASK, 2014 Mixed Media Collage LEFT:
METAMORPHOSIS, 2014 Mixed Media Collage OPPOSITE:
SAINT JANUARIUS (IS LOOKING FORWARD TO SPRING), 2014 Mixed Media Collage
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WEEGEEWEEGEE
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TAC: Your work draws heavily on Victorian photography. What is it about this era’s imagery that speaks to you? WW: I am awed by the reality of these Victorians looking at me from out of the past. I am intrigued by who they were, about their histories. I love the studio set-ups, how they construct themselves with props, giving clues as to how they would like to be perceived for eternity, and the stillness of the imagery frozen in that time. For me it is time travel through the medium of photography. Simultaneously, their anonymity gives me a great platform to let my imagination play. Since I have been working with these cartes de visite my interest in the Victorian period has grown immensely. I have been researching the era actively, and one of my favourite haunts and places of inspiration is the Victoria and Albert Museum here in London. Many of my portraits have names of real Victorian personalities who, through my collage, are being reinterpreted. Hence the titles are an important part of the artwork, and I hope provide an extra dimension for the viewer to experience the work. TAC: What draws you to a specific photograph for use in your compositions? WW: Sometimes it is the theme I am working on that draws me to a specific portrait, or vice versa a portrait leads me to
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the theme. At times it feels as if these characters are reaching out to me, and in an uncanny way have become facets of my own character and history. Like a late nineteenth-century spiritualist medium, they have turned into a conduit for my psychogeography. They are my ouija boards. TAC: Could you elaborate on the theme of regret, or lack thereof, as it relates to this series of images? WW: The title of this body of work is “aMetanoitoi,” Greek for “those who don’t regret.” When I started creating this series I worked a great deal with the characters and interpretations of Catholic saints, and during research discovered the word “metanoia.” One of its meanings is that of repentance, but like so many words translated from Greek it means much more than that. At that point in time it seemed to be a good fit for what I was doing, but the more the project and personalities developed it became clear that these characters had no reason to repent or regret, so the title transformed into what it is now. Nonetheless, I wanted to retain some of the origin of the title and that is why I am using the Greek word. TAC: What is next for you as an artist? WW: I am in the process of exploring new avenues, including working on antique prints as well as returning to sculptural work, which is opening up a whole new range of possibilities.
NYMPH HORAE, 2014 Mixed Media Collage
WEEGEEWEEGEE
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KIRSTEN CHEN Running Water
Eye -closeand the silver slice of darkness hatchesA Vigilante behind veil white lines, and into the daylight comes.
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Shadow People
The shadow people came late one Monday afternoon and tread quietly on my ceiling, innocuously feeling about the space, before turning the lights on and then off and then on again until finally settling on a dimmed fixed setting that matched the humming comfort of the A.C. unit – and – I did not mind nor contemplate nor envisage in the slightest because I had left the window open and the day outside illuminated still; the way a fall hour careens about the winds of seasons prior, easily enveloped in a fermata of circumstance, startled only briefly by the subtle sound of splashing in a nearby reflecting pool.
KIRSTEN CHEN
77
EMMELINE FERNANDEZ Obstacles It’s the fifth time we eat huevos con frijoles this week. My parents have always been frugal, but this time it’s different. “Mami, is there something wrong? Are we going through another financial crisis?” The 2008 recession had hit us hard but we persevered. “Paola, we don’t want you to worry,” she looked over at papi and they both looked down at their laps, flicking their fingers and sighing. “Papi, what is it?” “Pao, we’re working on submitting applications to become legal citizens and it’s taking up most of our money. We can’t keep risking deportation mija,” his mouth quivered. Papi was our only real source of income. Being a construction worker had begun to take a toll on his body and he had been taking one too many days off, which meant his paycheck was decreasing before his weary eyes.
“Mrs. Jimenez isn’t going to have me babysit Lucita
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anymore. She’s pregnant again so now she’ll be able to stay home and look after Lucita herself.” Mami’s babysitting didn’t produce much money but it was the only job she ever had since any other employment required her to have social security. I understood the logistics of the situation we were in and it was clear the only way I could help was by getting a job. Immediately, I thought of Omar. Being a Starbucks barista didn’t seem like the best source of income but I was desperate and I knew he would help. “Omar, I need a job. Think you can talk to your manager for me?” I said. “Eh, I don’t know Paola. I bet you only want the job to be closer to Mike,” his eyes rolled so deep into his head, I feared they wouldn’t glide back into place. “I mean, yeah he’s cute but that’s not why I want a job. I need to help my family. It’s time I contribute.” “Mhm, sure. Well I’ll see what I can do,” he said with his arms crossed.
He promised to tell his manager about my philanthropic work and outgoing personality. I believed him, but in order to speed up the process, I decided to visit him at work the next day. The second I walked into the building, I was greeted by Mike as well as the strong scent of freshly ground coffee beans.
“Hola Señora Paz! How are you this evening?” I yanked at the longest strand of my hair as I waited for her to respond.
“Hey Paola! What can I get started for you?” he said.
“An application!”
My feet sloshed through the muddy grass as I twisted the rusty faucet to the right. “Señora Paz, can you do me a huge favor?” I had to repeat myself a couple times before she heard me. I guess her hearing aid needed a fresh battery.
“Really? Okay, one application coming right up!” He ran to the back room and hurried over to the counter with an application and a blue pen in hand. “Fill this out and give it to me or to Omar,” he said with a large smile on his round, bearded face.
Just then Omar peered out from the back room.
“Did you come to see me or Mike?” His brows were flexed.
“I just came to get an application. I sold my laptop so no online applications for me!” He didn’t reply, instead he took his green apron off and walked me over to a small table near the bar. He watched me fill out the application intently. My arm twitched and my wrist wobbled. “Why are you so shaky? And why did you sell your laptop?” he said caressing his arm hair.
“I’d rather not say. Just know I really need this job.”
I didn’t want to accept the severity of my parent’s financial situation so I chose not to mention it. Six years ago when the recession hit, we ate once a day and showered twice a week. I wouldn’t let that happen again. I had already made a bit of money by selling my Mac, nine hundred dollars to be exact. After nervously filling out the application, I sighed and looked over at Omar.
“Hola Pao! How are you? Hija, now that I have you here, can you turn off the hose please?”
“Ehh? Oh, sure mija, anything!”
Señora Paz had helped me when I needed money for my prom dress last year. She paid me a hundred dollars for cleaning her entire house, thirty for washing her car, and twenty for walking Spike, her collie. “I was wondering if there were any chores I could do for you in exchange for some money? I really need a couple extra bucks and was hoping you could help.” Of course, I had to repeat myself again before she understood and agreed to employ me. I would clean her house and wash her car. After leaving everything spotless, I left a hundred and thirty dollars richer, smelling like Lysol, and a bit sad, too. It could have been one hundred and fifty, but Spike died. When I finally made it home, I heard talking in the kitchen. The voices were so loud, they overpowered the sound of the door closing behind me. My parents were arguing. Since I had gotten home a bit late, I didn’t want to waltz in and startle them, or worsen the situation, so I pressed my face onto the shiny wall, and listened in:
“Juan, we have to tell her.”
“No mi amor, we’ll stress her out! She has enough to worry about with school. This will only make it worse.”
“When will I hear back from your manager? What are the odds of me getting the position? How much will I make in a month? Will I get enough hours? Will they work around my class schedule? What are the benefits?”
School. I had forgotten all about school. I was so excited to fill out my application at Starbucks this morning that I completely forgot about school and missed lecture. Idiot, now you’ll fall behind.
“What is this, twenty one questions? Don’t worry, Paola. I will see what I can do,” he flicked crumbs off the table and picked up my application before leaving to the backroom. “My break is over. I’ll see you soon,” he said.
“Ahi dios mio, what are we going to do if this doesn’t work out? She’ll be left alone!”
I didn’t want to solely depend on Omar, so on my way home, I stopped by Mrs. Paz’s house, a sweet old woman that spent most of her time out watering her lawn.
“Lucha, calm down. Paola is a strong girl, she can take care of herself.” I peeked into the kitchen and whispered hello.
What? Left alone? My eyes bulged out of their sockets.
EMMELINE FERNANDEZ
79
“Paola! I didn’t even hear you come in hija…sit down, please.”
“Que paso, mami? Tell me.”
“We got a letter in the mail saying our applications were put on hold and we’re worried,” she was nervously shredding a napkin and shaking her leg. “Juan, what if they deport us! I knew we shouldn’t have meddled with all this immigration nonsense.” Papi assured her everything would be okay. “The case worker said we just have to be patient. I scheduled an appointment with her for tomorrow. Pao, can you come?” I had three classes and each one was important. It was week five and I had already fallen behind by missing class this morning. However, my parents needed me. The next day, we drove to Los Angeles to meet the case worker. We walked into her office and before I could introduce myself, I heard:
“What’s your name sweetheart?”
I didn’t have the slightest clue who this woman calling me sweetheart was. I mean, I guess from her business card I knew her name, Claudia Barrientos. Her eighties hair and bad nail job made her look like Janice from Friends. “My name is Paola Gomez but since you’re handling my parent’s paperwork I’m sure you already know.” “Well, you have beautiful hair Paola! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! Your parents have told me all about you and how proud they are since you’re going to college. What’s your major?” I told her about my major and how boring it was. “Biological sciences? Wow! You go girl. Well hey, now that I have you here, I need you to sign some documents for me okay?” “Documents? What Documents?” mami turned and held my hand. “Paola, we came to see Señora Barrientos to talk about leaving the house in your name in case of anything…” She meant deportation. Mami’s lips were pursed and her cheeks twitched. “Señora Barrientos has all the proper documentation we need. All you have to do is sign it.” So this is what they were talking about yesterday. This is what they meant about me ending up alone. “So if I sign this, and they get deported, I’m in charge of it all?”
“Yes! Isn’t it exciting? You’re growing up!”
I signed the documents and left the room. If I stayed a
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second longer, I would have punched Ms. Barrientos in the face. I’m sure she meant no harm but the mere idea of owning a house at nineteen was far too much for me to handle and this woman, this jolly woman seemed way too happy about it all. About an hour passed and my parents came out of the room. We said our goodbyes to Ms. Barrientos and drove home. When I got home, I flung my tired body at my bed and slept. In my dream, I saw myself as a homeless person; hair so greasy it dripped and skin so filthy it stuck to the cement. For some reason, there was a UCSD sticker on the bench I was sleeping on. My eyes sprung open when I thought about it—school. Shit, shit, shit! I haven’t been to school in three days. What have I missed?! I reached for my laptop but then I remembered I sold it. I unplugged my phone from its charger and immediately checked my student e-mail. I flicked through unnecessary newsletters and stopped when I saw bolded text:
*MIDTERM TOMORROW*
There was no way for me to study. I didn’t have my laptop and there was only so much I could look up on my phone. The drive back to San Diego had tired me out and I needed sleep. Before I knew it, I was back to dreaming about my hobo self once again. Somehow, I managed to wake up on time for school the next day. Though I didn’t study, I took my chemistry midterm and was surprised to know most of the material. I had memorized most of the equations and that had helped me. I walked out of the lecture hall with a huge smile on my face. A tingling feeling of relief swam through my veins. I was on my way to my next class when I felt my pocket jiggle—my phone was ringing and it was Mami.
“Pao! Hija!” mami’s voice was shaky.
“Mami! What’s wrong! Are you okay?!”
“Mija, Papi and I were on our way to pay the water bill and since the office was closing soon I was speeding and got us stopped. They’re taking the car.” Before she could finish her sentence, a man’s voice echoed through the line.
“Paola Gomez?”
“Yes, this is she. Who is this?! Are my parents going to be okay?!” “This is Officer Chuck. Yes, your parents are fine. I just wanted to let you know that in California, driving without a valid driver’s license is considered a criminal offense and not just a simple traffic violation. Section 125000 of the California Vehicle Code makes driving without a license a criminal misdemeanor.
I hate to bother you but could you possibly come pick your parents up?” I ditched my second class and sped off to pick up my parents. Mami was hysterical when I arrived. “It’s all my fault. Now we have to pay a thousand dollars in fines and god knows how much to take the car out of the pound. We don’t have that kind of money!” The car ride home was silent. When we arrived, Mami sat at the dinner table and lay her head on her crossed arms. I walked into my room and reached into my fluffy pillow. I rushed back to the kitchen, hugged Mami, and shoved the money I made from working for Señora Paz and from selling my laptop into the fold of her right arm. 1,030 dollars of my hard earned money rested in between her chubby arm.
“Pao?! What is this?! Where did you get this money from?!”
I told her about Señora Paz and about selling my laptop. She wasn’t too happy about me selling my Mac, but she was glad to kiss one worry (the fine) goodbye. The next day, I rushed to Starbucks before class. I needed caffeine to fuel me since it would be a long day of catching up on school work.
“Hey Paola!” it was Mike.
“Hey Mike, how’s it going!”
“Pretty good. Hey, why didn’t you decide to work here anymore? You seemed awful excited last time I saw you.” “What are you talking about? I’m still trying to get a job here!” I pursed my lips and wrinkled my forehead. “Well, last time you were here I saw your application on the table. I was about to put myself down as a reference when Omar came and snatched it from me. He said you had changed your mind and didn’t want to work here anymore. Was he lying?’ Omar couldn’t have been behind this. However, I was sure Mike wasn’t a liar.
“Is Omar here? I need to talk to him.” I said.
Mike went to the backroom and brought Omar out.
“What? What is it? Came to see Mike, didn’t you?” he said.
“Omar, can we talk?” I said.
I sat down and we talked about what had been going on.
Both between us and with me. “So my parents have been working on immigration paperwork and don’t have money. That’s why I needed the job. I’m sorry if I seemed opportunistic for coming to you, it’s just, I thought you’d help me.” “Paola, I’m sorry. Now that we’re here, it’s time I open up too.” He said he liked me. After countless compliments and many apologies, he promised to get me the job. Besides, he had been working there for a year and his seniority had started to kick in. I wasn’t sure where we stood, but I was glad he wasn’t too upset when I rejected his advances. At least he kept his word, for the next day I was called in for an interview. It’s been less than a week since my interview and I’ve already been offered the position. “We’re so proud of you, Pao.” my parents said in unison when I walked in wearing my green apron. “I wouldn’t be where I am without you guys!” we had a major hug session before I was off to my room to study. I may have slacked off in school a bit, but I was able to catch up in no time.
It’s been a year since I started working at Starbucks and I’m pleased to say working did not affect my school work or my relationship with Omar. We’re still great friends and I hope to keep it that way. I’m still on track to graduate and I have saved enough money to pay off my house, with my parents help of course. Janic—I mean, Señora Barrientos, was able to help my parents and now I am the offspring of two legal citizens of the state of California. I’ll never forget the way we decided to celebrate the night their case was solved. We crowded around our little, wooden dinner table and enjoyed a heaping bowl of huevos con frijoles.
EMMELINE FERNANDEZ
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RICH FREITAS Landline Some friends were on their way over to the house. A communique revealed they were running late, so I gave them my landline phone number in case they needed to get in touch. I have had the number for thirty years, a teen being acquiesced to when I desired my own phone number in the ninth grade. A pinnacle of individual identity. The phone rang tonight, rare in this era of cell towers and invisible connection. It must be a robocall, or so I thought. “Hello sir, we’d like to ask you about the fishing habits of the household.” Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello “Yes, sir. I’m really here.” I decided to turn the tables, and asked her about her fishing habits. I had never had a grand experience pulling a fish from it’s natural habitat. My father’s best friend was an avid fisherman, and those trips down the river or to the far cove always seemed to get in the way of perfecting the pivot at second base, or interrupting the most recent plea for a drum set. She was so surprised that I had begun to inquire about her background, that she immediately responded with a concise
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description of her involvement. “I like to fish from the shore, not so much from a boat. but I’m still like a little girl when I have to put the bait on the hook, or pulling the hook out of the fish.” “Why do you have to define that moment within the supposed weakness of femininity? I’m petrified of putting a worm on a hook, much less scaling a dead animal. why don’t you say ‘scared, like a little boy?’ “ “You’re right….. but I still have to do this survey……” I responded by saying “you have sixty seconds” She gets the answers her superiors are looking for in forty seven seconds. “Thank you sir, that was the best call I have ever had.” I hang up the phone and wait for the sound of tires grinding the last of the winter’s sand in a slow stop before the driver puts the vehicle into park.
Indebted I committed a crime I was arrested I spent a night behind bars I paid my dues to society As part of the penalty, I was to engage in 32 hours of community service, otherwise known as the Alternative Incarceration Program. We were due at the facility by 8 am, and I taught myself, finally, how to show up fifteen minutes early. Our assignment one day was to clean the very offices that meted out our punishment. A boy being raised by a single mom in the ‘70’s often meant you were known as “the cleaning lady’s son” This programmed moral code would haunt me as much as the guilt of penance, and it’s permanence. “Why don’t you start by vacuuming the carpets on the second floor. The vacuum is in the utility closet.” I find the utility closet easily enough, and came upon three different vacuum cleaners. I decided the blue one looked to be most of service, the first of many mistakes on the day. Apparently, the criminals such as me had no idea that a vacuum cleaner depended on filters, and maintaining them. I spend the next two hours using different combinations of the three vacuum cleaners to remove the inch thick debris buildup from years of neglect. I was unaware, completely out of my element, in this alternative penitentiary, that cameras on closed circuit recorded and broadcast my every move. As I meticulously revived these machines of convenience the entire staff of the AIC was watching with bated breath the broadcast visual of myself and my mother’s lessons on cleanliness “Do it right, Richie!” An echo more imprisoning than my impetuous sentence.
RICH FREITAS
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ILANA MASAD Warm and Cold and Round and Square I found a mystery on the beach today, half-buried in the sand. There were plenty of people around. Sunbathing, building sand-castles, running in and out of the sea. When they ran in, they were usually dry. When they ran back out, they were always wet. The water was cold that day. No one stayed in for very long. I didn’t wear my bathing suit. I was just in shorts and a t-shirt with the name of the company I work for inscribed on it. They give me free things like that sometimes. Once I got a big duffle bag. I use it to carry my laundry down. Some people say that’s free advertising. I say it’s a free bag.
one found the mystery before I did. Even though my foot was stinging, I got down on my knees to look closer at the thing that hurt me. It was round and square and triangular. I pulled it out of the sand. It was pretty small, but big too. It was heavy and light. It was clear and opaque. It sang a little tune when I shook it. It rattled. It was the most ordinary and strange thing I’d ever seen. I guess that’s why they call it a mystery.
I stepped right on the mystery at first. I was barefoot. My shoes were with the blanket I’d spread out on the sand. I didn’t want to take my shoes off at first. But the blanket kept flapping up in the wind and I needed something to weigh it down with. So I took my shoes off. They were the kind you can wear without socks. Once, feet were considered erotic. I guess they still are for some people.
When it bit me, I yelled a louder yell. People looked over now. One man with a stomach that hung over his speedos came over. He asked if I was okay. I held out the mystery to show him. It bit me, I said. He laughed. What did you ask if I was okay for if you’re just going to laugh, I said. He got serious real quick but not because of what I said. He was looking closer at the mystery, which was lying on the palm of my hand and hovering a little over it. He asked if he could hold it. I said sure.
The mystery was sharp. I jumped away from it and yelled a little yell. It hurt. Nobody was watching, though. Everyone was too involved in what a nice day it was. That’s probably why no
He yelled for his wife to come over and their kids came along too. The wife was not unattractive, but she was not very attractive either. Middling pretty, like a two-dimensional
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painting. If there was depth to her you couldn’t see it right off. She asked him what he wanted and called him Bernie. I laughed at his stupid name but they didn’t notice. They were looking at the mystery and the kids started throwing it between them. When it was in midair I snatched it back. It was my mystery. Finders keepers. An old woman came over. She had no breasts and a wrinkled stomach that looked like it had been through wars. I don’t understand old women who wear bikinis. She asked very quietly what we were making such a ruckus about. She said the Russians were always planting bombs on this beach. She was a little crazy though you couldn’t tell just from looking at her. Unless you count the two-piece swimsuit. I told her that it wasn’t a bomb, at least I didn’t think it was. No ticking, see. She sat down on the sand and tugged me down too. She pulled a pair of glasses out of somewhere and looked real close at the mystery in my hand. She said that it wasn’t Russian. 100% all-American, she said. More people were gathering around us. The old woman and I sat on the sand and everyone else crowded around us and the man and his wife and their kids. They wanted to know what was up. I kept saying it’s a mystery, it’s a mystery, but the noise was getting louder. People babbling about something really valuable, like a diamond ring, or about Brad Pitt’s autograph. I heard someone pretty far back yelling that the Holy Grail had been found. The old woman and I laughed together and the man and his wife kept saying to back off, give it some air, come on people. The kids squatted down in the sand with us and stared like kids do, almost without blinking. There were so many people around that I wasn’t worried about getting sunburned anymore. The sunscreen bottle said to reapply every thirty minutes and it had been longer than that. But the light was all gone, almost. There were just slivers of sunbeams cracking through the bodies like the rays in a forest thicket. At some point, the mystery was so heavy my hand fell to the sand with the weight. Then it floated up and with a kind of running leap it buried itself in the sand. I put my hand down the hole it had made but it wasn’t deep and there was nothing there. Just more sand. Some seashells. A bottle cap. Nothing mysterious. I tried to tell the people above the old woman and the kids and I that there was nothing to look at. No one heard me. I heard the news helicopters above and the TV crews fighting their way through the throng. Someone yelled for an ambulance. I could smell burning. The old woman patted my knee. The kids curled up together and fell asleep. I sat cross-legged and wondered.
ILANA MASAD
85
LEE ANN NORMAN Id Her phone jiggled on the table and she sighed, weary from attending to its constant movement and the obligation it implied. The regular vibration did make her giddy though. It signaled that she was important, wanted, desired. It had been nearly four years since she last paid to mount an entire exhibition and Famous People—very wealthy people—began to seek her out. They asked her opinion on timely topics such as revitalization, entrepreneurship, and artist-lead initiatives. Of course she didn’t think herself an expert, but considered it quite lucky she knew so many smart, thoughtful, organized, and creative people whom she could call “friend.” She never really said anything original or substantive in conversation. Sometimes she botched the words and ideas of her “friends” while flirting coyly with the men, the women, those Famous People, and usually, that was enough. When she peppered her wistful profundities with a few references to wellknown designers, thought leaders, and the latest TED talk, she let them kiss her on each cheek, a little too close to the mouth; they behaved as if she were a Nobel Laureate or sometimes the Queen.
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It shocked her how much she loved being treated like Someone Who Matters. It’s not that she was a late bloom or anything, but certainly she had come a long way from being that buddy girl who disarmed others through self-deprecation and quirkiness, fearing her beauty or intelligence might be too much. Now—this was an important moment—her moment. And she didn’t want to miss any part of it. Sometimes her real friends and dear ones got upset when she took plans with them lightly, but honestly, what could she do if one of the Famous People phoned wanting to have drinks in fifteen minutes, or to whisk her off to an opening gala in a few hours . . . ? She had to go . . . . How else was she to secure the money, the project, the support or participation she needed? While he was finishing up his JD, they agreed to live apart, but she suggested they visit each other twice a month and live together in summers. Unexpectedly, she got That Show at That Museum and changed everything. Her job at the gallery gave her a lot of freedom since her new status increased its prestige by affiliation. She could work remotely as long as she
made an appearance for a couple weeks a month to check in with her artists and the director in person. (She made sure they couldn’t function without her.) Soon, she began to blow off their weekends, and re-arrange the time they spent in that summer house together, and he noticed. She wasn’t oblivious to his pleas for balance; they just weren’t as important as her need to be needed. When the phone jiggled this time, she picked it up. Two new messages:
I land at 7. Can you meet me? Forgot my keys . . . he wrote.
Spotted: Ann and Jay having dosas. Martinis and more: 7 . . . ? They inquired. She smiled, placing the phone back on the table. She walked toward the closet to look for something pink.
LEE ANN NORMAN
87
STEPHANIE LANE GAGE This is the Day the World Ends MAN sits on a park bench at the edge of the Earth, overlooking a city somewhere, sunny as the air in mid-May blows thinly and the dogs are barking at the bottom of the hill and a red kite is pitted against a blue sky in his periphery. Having presently departed, MAN had just run into a pair of old friends from his hometown, one which frankly looked heavier than he had been in high school (though he had only gained a medial 4 pounds over the years) which was something MAN was taking slight solace in. MAN now stares at the visible skyline over the hill on which he sits, brows furrowed and eyes squinting toward the blur of bright hues, reflecting, his mind speaking. MAN’S MIND: Everything’s changed. Just then. Instantly. MAN: What do you mean by that? MAN’S MIND: I s’pose it’s just that in that second, when you saw those two people approaching, the blurred faces in the sunlight just rising over the precipice of the hill, like a fucked up kind of nostalgic sunrise, there was a feeling in your belly, right beneath your stomach lining that was like a schism, an awareness of interruption— MAN: Interruption of what? MAN’S MIND: [louder]—of the air, here. Or maybe it was more like the relative passing of time was disturbed and the universe shook a little bit.
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MAN: The universe shakes because I see someone I used to know. MAN’S MIND: I know it doesn’t seem right because of the utter vastness of it all and you’re an assortment of molecules on a lowly corner of this dark expanse, but there are worlds beneath your eyelids. [beat] Do you want to see how the world ends? MAN: Must I? [MAN looks to the red kite floating lowly now, defeated by the picking up of wind. It vibrates against the blue.] I’d rather you show me something blank, and I’ll stay ignorant for a little while longer. MAN’S MIND: [quietly] There isn’t choosing, now. You know. MAN nods. Jostling from the past in corners of the mind, organic. Every memory of who he is and who he’s loved has faded. The sun, lumbering on through the sky fiercely, began to expand and distort. The sky grew dark in midday protest. Heads and eyes belonging to all things that day turned to see, though they knew it was coming. They all flew their kites, red. Each blade of grass sang it’s own swan song as the flares of a dying sun brushed the Earth and left a husk where the world once was. MAN imagined he saw fireworks, silly as it was that day in the afternoon.
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LIZ BROWN Chamomile for Lila I abandoned my name long ago. it may have started with H but very well G or X.
filling my hat, soaking the lilies that no longer decorate your hair.
With it went the flowers and the breeze.
Both my hands grip at the brim, bending it outwards as water gives weight and petals come to float.
In their stead I gained layers upon layers of dust. My suit hangs, threadbare, a dull sand removed from the beach, almost matching the rings that raise to my calves in this tub. The water comes in spurts, then all at once, from the showerhead
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When the hat is full I turn on my heel and kneel left, then right hands steady. I wait with the stains. The first time I saw her in the dirt, by the garden,
can be described only by the collection of sweat behind my knees and the nagging thought that I hadn’t combed my hair. How trivial when compared to the sag of my eyelids and the teeth torn cuticles that mark your purple dress on the last day of April as my name lost meaning. My knees callous over weeks this daily ritual my suit ripe with mildew, salt. My eyes never stray from this ill-mixed tea I brew in my hat. Nightly I breathe my essence into these petals willing the wilted to form anew. And with the rising of the sun I fill myself with failure stew. Slowly the braiding of your hair, solar flares cast from your scalp, melted into to the folding of my hands across my ribs, singed fingertips seeking warmth, finding rust. Your voice is an echo of my beating heart off these shower walls in which you sang. I search for a remnant of your skin
as I chew my nails, feeding on stem-flavored calcium. The pulse under my navel, weak and yearning, serves as the melody and cadence, my farewell ballad to your lips. I gather the last of the lilies in the pots stacked so high on the balcony And scatter my decorations around this hat in the bath, this sole bequeath you surrendered. Letting the water pile over the rings, on to the floor, The heat surrounds my bones, wrapping paper skin, and I plunge my thumb into my belly. These organs, always yours, steam while I add to the concocted chamomile of my confessions. As I string my intestines delicately about the tile my mind leaves this tea bag body in hopes that when the molecules of my being disperse to dust, They might press upon the insides of your cheek rather than disperse into nothingness.
LIZ BROWN
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David Brown Editor-In-Chief Juliet Helmke Associate Editor Cyndy Brown Senior Copy Editor Kie Kato Art Director
T H E A RT I S T C ATA L O G U E . C O M