“Works of art often last
forever, or nearly so. But exhibitions
themselves, especially gallery exhibitions, are like flowers; they bloom and
then they die, then exist only as memories, or pressed in magazines and books.”
-
Jerry Saltz
So my wife and I took down
my art show on June 2nd, and I believe that a brief follow-up to my
last entry addressing my then impending exhibit is warranted. I show only very rarely, so the experience is
anything but routine for me. It
certainly makes sense at this time to document the work shown and offer a few
observations.
As I stated in my last
entry, I’ve been attending weekly life drawing sessions at the Unison Arts
Center
Originally, I intended to exhibit
only my oil paintings but, as a concession to Unison, agreed to include a
selection of works on paper – which offered the slim possibility of generating
sales. So in the weeks before the show,
I was reprinting linocuts, purchasing frames and having mats prepared
professionally. I began surveying my
work to determine which paintings and prints would be included in the
exhibit. I dusted off the paintings and
thoroughly cleaned up a good number of existing prints that could be displayed
as already framed - often many years ago. I prepared a list of works for Unison which
should have been an effortless job except I realized a little late that, while
my paintings were thoroughly documented, the prints were not. Dating the prints and determining their dimensions
after they were already out of my possession proved a daunting
undertaking. I found a nearby rental
location and reserved a truck in which to transport the work. And finally I put together the obligatory
Artist’s Statement, a document in which the artist, hopelessly, attempts in an
extremely abbreviated format to explain what his work is all about. Any regular reader of this blog should know
that I’m anything but concise. Of
course, I wrote an unusable long and wordy statement that I include below:
For many years now, I have primarily explored within my multi-figure compositions what I call “charged moments”. These charged moments arise when something critical might occur - when the ordinary course of daily activity might be disrupted, resulting in commotion and upheaval. The potential for disruption is suggested only; it is equally possible that nothing significant is at play – that if I chose to present the same scene just a few seconds later these activities might be concluded customarily, leaving the depicted players unscathed and impassive.
Even when painting a portrait, a nude, a landscape or still-life, I try to defy conventions, to present my subject in a way that will not satisfy a viewer’s expectations, imparting a vague feeling of frustration or distress. Usually this dissonance is somewhat subtle.It is my belief that this approach to subject matter offers my audience immediate access to my imagery and encourages, as well, a more engaged exploration of the themes that I address – hopefully promoting within the viewer a personal dialogue extending beyond the scope of anything I could have imagined. Furthermore, and perhaps more importantly, my imagery reflects my worldview. While it seems to me that today, more so than I can ever recall, people are compelled to interpret individuals and actions in strokes of black and white, I see only shades of gray. I maintain an inherent suspicion of absolutes and an impatience with all dogmas. Duality, ambiguity and contradiction intrigue me greatly as phenomena of contemporary existence.
After reviewing my
statement, Unison returned a thoroughly pared-down version of it for my
consideration. The words were still
mine, but now the statement favored heavily the “what” I was doing and ignored
the “why” I was doing it. Nothing
irritates me more than when an artist describes his or her process as resulting
from nothing more substantial than a whim.
(“I wanted to paint a green painting, so I did.” or “I had a lot of
bottle caps lying around and thought wouldn’t it be cool to construct a
landscape out of them.”) If the artist
cannot provide an explanation of motivation and purpose, it’s usually
indicative that he or she is just treading water. So I took another shot at the statement,
trying to retain its original substance while doing so in much fewer
words. My attempt left Unison still
dissatisfied, and now they returned to me a new statement written in the third
person that was almost comically meaningless.
At that point, I implored them to use their original edited version
which they graciously agreed to do.
Another hurdle surmounted!
Hanging the show was unexpectedly
challenging. I won’t go into detail but
will just say that all of the strife and commotion endured that day was totally
unnecessary and a bit outlandish. With
my wife’s and son’s assistance, I successfully installed the exhibition without
suffering any casualties and felt that, once on the wall, my work would be
secure until it was time to be removed.
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| Hanging Day |
Beside the request that I include some prints
and paintings on paper, Unison gave me free rein to determine what works I
would include in the show, and I feel confident that I ended up with an
extremely solid and representative sampling of my oeuvre – probably the best
I’ve ever put together. The show
consisted of twelve oil paintings, ten prints and two gouache paintings. I believe the exhibit benefited from the
inclusion of the works on paper. They
added some diversity to the show and permitted me for the first time to display
a sizeable array of the linocuts and woodcuts that I’ve generated
intermittently over the last few decades.
Printing is a process that I have explored seriously, but the prints
always seemed to play second fiddle to the oil paintings and never got shown. It was very rewarding to see them on display
together, holding their own, in my opinion, to the more ostentatious work. The show was called “A Matter of Time”,
alluding to how my paintings often capture an isolated instant of activity when
the imminent potential for substantive change exists. It was only after selecting the name that I
recognized that it had a second meaning in that this show included work
produced over a long period of time. Many
years of working fulltime and commuting into NYC on a daily basis had
restricted the number of hours I could devote to my artwork and certainly
reduced my output. To put together
enough work to fill Unison’s gallery space meant gleaning paintings and prints
from decades of production; the oil paintings were generated between 1996 and
2018, and the earliest print included was completed in 1986. The vast majority of the images documented
the people and places that defined my life at these times. This exhibition truly represented the results
of “a matter of time”.
Personally, I dreaded most
the opening celebration. I was concerned
that there might be some ceremony involved and I might be required to make a
speech. I abhor ceremony, not just because
I’m less than an exhibitionist but because ceremony reeks of the artificial and
the moribund. In spite of my
reservations, just in case, I had a vague oration constructed in my brain that
I hoped would never be put to use. My
fears were completely unfounded. Unison
generously provided their space and an assortment of provisions for the opening
without imposing expectations or restrictions of any kind. The event, which beforehand I thought of as
something that would have to be endured, proved in reality to be extremely
enjoyable and rewarding. A sizeable
crowd assembled in the gallery space over the opening’s two hour duration. Of course, my wife and children attended, but
I was pleasantly surprised to find that all of my siblings, their spouses and
many of their children came – a rare gathering that only seems to happen these
days for weddings and funerals. Many
representatives of the local home schooling community were there. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law heavily
promoted the show with their book club, and my boys coerced their workmates to
attend. A few old friends were there as
well as a selection of Unison members who proved to be both very receptive to
my work and knowledgeable about art in general.
 |
| That's me among my paintings. |
 |
| The opening crowd conservatively estimated to be ten thousand. |
 |
| New Hamburg Reading Society |
 |
| New Hamburg Reading Society |
 |
| The Spirits and Cheeses Crew |
 |
| Great to see a few old friends I hadn't gotten together with in years. |
 |
| Many of the individuals who modeled for the artwork were able to attend. |
The opening flew by, and I savored
a brief moment of feeling relevant. I
appreciated greatly the show of support from friends and family. It’s not easy to haul oneself off to a Sunday
evening art show – especially when an episode of the final season of Game of Thrones is scheduled to air that
same night.
So with the hanging of the
show and the opening out of the way, I could relax, put my feet up and relish
the thought that my work was currently on display. Well, not quite.
One of the benefits of
showing at Unison is that the location is used for Dance, Tai Chi and Qigong
classes, Writing Workshops and Life Drawing Sessions during the week and concerts
and other performances on weekends. This
means that throughout the duration of the show, a regular stream of educated
folk with an interest in the arts will see your work. This is certainly not the norm for most
smaller venues.
The downside soon became
apparent. As a promotional tool, Unison shares snippets of their weekend
performances on social media, and my wife and I were shocked to see on facebook
the first weekend the show was up a long line of singers squeezed onto their
undersized portable stage, the gyrating posterior of one singer apparently
lapping regularly against one of my paintings.
We were aghast, but hopefully it was a onetime occurrence. Not quite.
In the weeks ahead, usually just before going to bed, my wife would be
making a final tour of sites on her tablet and she’d let out a gasp. I’d turn to her quickly. “Oh no!
What are they doing now?” She’d
reluctantly turn the screen of her tablet to me to reveal some new outrage that
would leave me hours later lying in bed wide-eyed and anxious. During the exhibit, we witnessed drum kits positioned
immediately before paintings, upright bass players strumming away contentedly
oblivious to the artwork inches away and flamenco dancers strutting about
energetically amidst the exhibit. Though
we were spared the visuals, a high school chamber orchestra was somehow wedged
into the space, a movie screen for a student film festival was installed above
the paintings and a fundraiser dinner was hosted at the location. I was just waiting to hear that a Beijing acrobatic troupe would be performing there or
maybe a Liverpool dart throwing competition
would be held in the space. As it were,
at every Saturday life drawing session I attended, I began by repositioning
many of my paintings and prints that had evidently been jostled about since my
last visit and would painfully endure watching one participant in the sessions splashing
away in oil paints, her easel abutting one of my canvases. Obviously exhibiting at Unison was not for
the faint of heart.
On
the other hand, a very positive event occurred along with this show. Ever since relocating out of NYC about twenty
five years ago, I have been impressed with a local magazine, Chronogram, which is dedicated to
promoting the cultural life of the Hudson
Valley
 |
| Chronogram - May 2019 |
 |
| Parting Shot |
I had a few email
communications and one long phone interview with Chronogram’s Shrien Alshabasy during which I rambled on incoherently
about my life and artwork. Somehow from
that she managed to put together a concise and elegant article. If you would like to read her piece, I
include a link below:
Finally, it’s important that
I make clear that it is not my intention to disparage Unison. I still consider the organization to be an
essential and successful promoter of art, music, dance, film and performance in
the Hudson Valley
Special thanks to my wife
and children for their help in transporting, installing and taking down the
show and preparing for the opening.
As always, I encourage
readers to comment here. If you would
prefer to comment privately, you can email me at gerardwickham@gmail.com.
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