Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Mandi Nikole Zimmer. A more in depth discussion of her work and methods for the upcoming show at 102: Bistro this Wednesday. You can find Mandi's photography online at mandinikolephotography.com or on facebook. (Do not adjust your internet: This interview is transcript only)

If you would like to be interviewed for Q&Art please contact me at russellpirkle@gmail.com or call nclac at 255-1450.

Can you tell me how this series evolved?

The series was originally done as my senior exhibition. During the summer before my final year I was trying to decide on what photographic series I would display at the exhibition. I had thought about doing something in fashion. I love shooting fashion and had originally entered the photography field with hopes of one day becoming a fashion photographer. I did photography for several years prior to entering LA Tech and was very comfortable in the commercial industry. After much thought, I decided I wanted to photograph something more meaningful. I wanted to tell someone's story or capture the moments of a person's life. I shoot alot of lifestyle photos so environmental photography was not new to me. Finally, I narrowed it down to 3 choices; (1) I would have like to have done 3 families that had children who were patients at the St. Jude's Children's Hospital, (2) military men and women, or (3 ) 3 families during the delivery of their child. I was very interested in telling the story of the St. Jude's Kids, but it was difficult gaining access to the families, physicians, and hospitals to get approval to take the images. I would still like to photograph this series one day if possible. I have done birth photography in the past and it is such an amazing moment in the life of families, but I realized that I wouldn't always be available at just any time for the deliveries. My neighbor, Mr. Harry, used to sit and talk about World War II with my parents when I was young and I would hear him. I didn't really understand much but as I grew older I began to see the sorrow in his face at times and I realized the effects it had on his life. If you ask him today he is reluctant to speak about it anymore. So, I decided I wanted to do environmental portraits of service men and women and the  American Heroes series was born. I was amazed by the response I received. Veteran's and their families were receptive to the idea and the project evolved from there.

Can you tell me what you learned or discovered from the experience of creating the American Heroes series?

I learned about the sacrifices that service men, women, and their families have made over the years to defend our independence. They not only leave their families to fight wars, but they have suffered the loss of friends, family, and loved ones. I realized that the men and women who has fought on the front lines will always carry the memories, good and bad, of what they experienced forever. I don't believe I had ever really considered the sacrifices military families make until I did this series. Many families have given generations to military for the protection of our country. The Dyers, are an example of one of those families. Grandfather and grandson have both made sacrifices to defend the country we all love. I am forever grateful to these men and women who have fought for our nation, because without them I wouldn't have the freedom to live the life I live today. That is why I chose to do this series. I wanted to give honor and thanks to all our military and their families. I also learned that there are many wonderful people in the world. There are still trusting people who are willing to open their hearts, homes, and lives to others. I have been blessed to remain friends with a few of the soldiers and their families. Just recently Mr. Comeaux, The Grandfather, passed away and his daughter opened her home allowing me to become part of the family, celebrating his life. The images I had taken were some the last photographs taken of him and I felt blessed to have been able to document a part of his life and then share it with his family.

On a personal note, I learned something about myself and my goals in the photography field. I have always thought of myself as a commercial photographer because I photograph portraits of children, families, weddings, and fashion. I had earned my reputation through the use of lifestyle images, my ability to use an off camera flash, and my ability to use Photoshop. I had pretty much set my course, but this project changed me. I began to see myself more as an artist. My goals are changing. Yes, I would still like to work in fashion, but I also would like to photograph for Life Magazine, National Geographic, a newspaper. Oh, and yes I want to capture that perfect shot and win a Pulitzer prize.I love shooting environmental portraits. I try to incorporate it into almost every session I do now.

What wars do the veterans photographed represent?

Several of the men fought in World War II.  Mr Harry, the neighbor who inspired the series, is a World War II Veteran. Brandi North, the female soldier, fought in Afghanistan. She was also a victim of 911. I also photographed soldiers who fought in the Vietnam and Gulf War. I also photographed a gentleman who was at Pearl Harbor.

What are your personal connections to the subject matter? What family or friends do you have in the service?

The series was inspired by a neighbor and family friend who fought in World War II. Recently a friend of mine I've known since I was junior high returned from Iraq. Currently I do know people in the service but do not know anyone who is over seas doing battle.

Can you talk about a few of the artistic choices that you've made (in terms of how to shoot the subject) and why?

I chose to photograph these images as environmental portraits. The use of environmental photography allows me, the photographer, to give the observer or viewer a look inside the life of each man or woman as they live their life today. Many of these portraits were done in each Veteran's home. This allowed them to share the environment they live in, their families, and their hobbies or interest.

I am primarily a portrait photographer and the majority of my work is done as what's described as environmental or lifestyle photography. I have done some studio work but I am primarily known for my environmental style and lighting skills. I photograph the majority of my clients "on location." I love to photograph clients in their home but will occasionally chose a place that highlights them as individuals, or a place that is meaningful to them. I use questionnaires to help me learn more about my clients interest and to help me chose the locations used to photograph them.

Warren, The Fireman, was photographed at his place of work. After interviewing with him I decided to highlight his life as a Fireman. To showcase his life as a protector in the service and at home. His love for music was also something that stood out to me so we decided to share some of his life as a musician.

Some of the men are grandfathers who wanted to be photographed with their grandchildren. Mr Comeaux, The Grandfather, was shot in his home with two of his granddaughters. I wanted to portray them as they would appear in their everyday life. I felt I was able to do that because after interviewing with him and his daughter I was able to find out that it wasn't unusual for him to be home sitting in his chair while his granddaughters were playing on the floor near him. I chose to include the wheelchair and medical equipment in the image because it portrayed his love for his wife who had recently been admitted to a nursing home. Just weeks before she would have been sitting with him with the grandchildren playing between them.

I photographed the majority of the images with my 28mm lens, but I also used my 100m and 50mm on several of the images. You were correct about me using a narrow aperture on several of the images, but I was able to maintain a large DOF with the use of my 28mm lens. It was important for me to keep the entire image in focus so the viewer would be drawn into the story of the image and enter the into the life and environment of the subject. About the color - when I originally started the series I envisioned them as either black and white or sepia. I love black and white images and use them alot in my business. When I first presented them in class for critique my instructor suggested I print them in color for my second critique. I was really a little disappointed but took her suggestion. I loved them in color. I do have some prints in black and white though because I feel using black and white sets the mood of the image and highlights the subject being photographed.

NCLAC is supported in part by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Office of Cultural Development, Department of Culture, Recreation & Tourism, in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council, Funding has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, a Federal agency.

Livaudais Gallery to host artist Gary Ratcliff

Thursday, December 1st, 5pm-9pm during the Downtown Gallery Crawl, Livaudais Studio is proud to exhibit new work by ULM Professor Gary Ratclifat.  He will also be on hand to demonstrate and talk about his pottery. For almost 30 years, Gary has been honing his skills at the potter's wheel.  A master of his art, his work is characterized by fine craftsmanship and creativity, incorporating a variety of traditional and non-traditional techniques including slab and coil assembly.

As head of the ULM Division of the Art, Gary teaches beginning and advanced level pottery at ULM.  He exhibits extensively in regional shows andd actively participates in the Monroe community as a ceramics demonstrator and workshop performer.  A former math major turned artist, Mr. Ratcliff holds the B.A. degree in ceramics from Greenville College in Illonois and the M.F.A. in ceramics from East Texas State University.

Livaudais Photography Studio and Art Gallery is located half a block south of DeSiard at 122 South Grand in Monroe, LA.  For more information, call Joli at (318)-791-0307, or visit www.livaudais-studio.com.

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Peter Jones, local artist and recently retired Tech Professor of Art. Peter's retrospective is currently on display at Louisiana Tech. [wpvideo kLDdadCX]

I want to start out by asking you about the selection process for the paintings for your retrospective. Specifically about which ones were excluded and why.

I had to pick from what I had on hand. And also I had to make sure I didn't duplicate everything that was in the show that I had at the library that was up from August until October, although I figured it was a different audience. So there's some paintings that were in both shows and some that were not. I also, this summer when I was thinking about this upcoming show, I got a couple paintings from Woodstock from my mother's house, and shipped them down here. Because I wanted to have some of the really early stuff like the '67 landscape from Cape Cod. And the still life with the sewing machine and the eggs, which is one of the earliest serious still lifes that I did in the early seventies, when I turned away from painting from memory and started painting from life again. I did figurative . . . You saw the powerpoint I gave, didn't you?

No I missed that. I was out of town.

Okay. I can show you some slides from that. I was doing these invented, expressionistic figures and landscape. Then I saw the joys of painting a figure from life again. I began this series of full length portraits. And then I discovered there were these still lifes that were appearing around the figures. And I thought, you know, I can do those and arrange them however I want. I don't have to worry about a model. And so I started doing still lifes. And that's where it all got going. But it grew out of a desire to figure out a way in the late sixties to paint at the end of the whole modernist thing. I'm digressing here, I figured at that time, as Hans Breder, my teacher in Iowa said, "Painting is dead. It died when Ives Klein painted a canvas blue." This was in '67. I was taking a drawing class in graduate school. And I thought if painting is dead, hey it's a new ballgame. And so I started doing things that were based on the early clumsy Cezanne figures and landscapes. I figured Cezanne is the genius of early modernism. You can't work from the end of Cezanne. If you're going to work from Cezanne you've got to go back to the beginning. So I did this expressionistic drawing. And I remember running into Guston. I didn't know what he was doing at the time. He was getting into his figurative phase in the late sixties. And I thought, hm, that's interesting. He's doing people killing each other, and I'm doing sort of the same thing. But it was different painting entirely. So I wanted to basically tell a narrative that students could make some sense of, from where I started, the very early work I shipped down from Woodstock. Stuff I did when I was a kid.  The earliest piece I did when I was five years old. So I hung that and then I put the photo right next to it. Because I wanted to make it clear that you don't lose that response to color. I don't remember doing that particular pastel at five. But the one with the India ink lines on it, I vividly remember doing. I must have been six or seven. I remember responding to the black and yellow together thinking wow, this is really cool. And of course years later, I'm painting lemons on black backgrounds. So it's all the same thing, but it becomes harder to paint freely when you know more.  When you're a kid, you don't have to worry about dealing with form, and space, and perspective and all that stuff. You can just design on the picture plane. I was lucky that I had my father who was a wonderful artist and a very good teacher. And he basically encouraged me to make what he called designs. This was 1946-47. The whole abstract movement in America was just getting started. He was coming out of the mural projects for the government, which ended during World War II. And he had done a number of commissions. So he was working with easel painting, but I think drifting towards a more abstract approach. So he encouraged me and really liked what I was doing. So I had this early career as an abstract painter, which I was never able to live up to. When you start trying to paint abstractly, when you don't know enough but you know too much you start trying to paint like somebody else. When you're a kid you just do whatever. As Picasso said, he started off drawing like an old master and then he had to learn to draw like a child. But I just did the usual thing, started off doing kid's stuff. And by the time I was nine I figured I have to learn to draw a horse from memory. I couldn't do that so I quit. Most kids do that. So I wanted to tell a story, but I had to also pick it out of the pictures I had available. A lot of the work I've done over the past thirty years is no longer here. It's sold. So I was trying to piece together a narrative.

There's a reclining nude that's in the retrospective. Is that one of the pieces from when you weren't painting from life?

No, that's painting from life. I was very lucky. I was living in Vermont and designing the state magazine for seven years. I moved up there from Virginia. And trying to raise two kids. I wasn't doing a lot of painting, but I showed a couple of landscapes in a local juried show up there. And I got a note from somebody saying that we have this group, we meet every Friday to draw the model. And so I said aha I need to do this. So for three years, three hours every Friday afternoon, we had forty-five minutes of gesture drawing. An hour of ten-fifteen minute poses. And then an hour of an hour pose. And it was great. To get back into drawing from life. This would have been '76, so it was almost nine years since I left grad school. I had not had the chance to draw the model regularly for those nine years. So I did tons and tons of drawings. And then I started doing these studies on canvas, and that's one of them. But that's painted really fast, because you have an hour to get the pose down. I did a series of those. They really got me on board. Because painting the figure and drawing the figure, it's like playing music. It's like playing scales. It's basic. So I did that until I came down here. I showed a bunch of drawings in a show when I first started teaching here. Joe Struthers gave me a show, so I matted up a bunch of drawings and I had some of these figure paintings as well as some still lifes. Basically when I taught that figure painting class in the spring, I was drawing on that experience. That got me back into the figure. But they're all studies. I tried working on a figure away from the model, and it got too stylized. It ended up looking like a stiff Bronzini. I prefer painting the model from life. Painting it from memory, I don't want to go there again. Although I can do it better from memory than I used to.

Your work sort of has this focus of looking back at the old masters. Vermeer, Chardin.

Mmhm.

If you move past that read of this reflection on art history, what further meanings are there in your work?

Yeah, it's not a pastiche of the old stuff. These are paintings that are done in the aftermath of the big modernist push. And so, they really have to be about self expression. They have to be about finding something fresh and new. They have to be about design. So you can't turn the clock back. There are artists like Jacob Collins in New York who claims that the entire past 150 years have been a mistake. That starting with Cezanne it all started going downhill. And that Bouguereau and the academic painters in the nineteenth century represent the highest evolution of art and we need to return to those. I think that's bologna. You can't turn the clock back. Some of my very favorite artists of the twentieth century are more abstract. I love Paul Klee. I love Matisse. I love Picasso. I love Braque. There's a whole slew of painters that I admire and really respond to. Of the American painters, Guston and DeKooning are artists that I particularly admire. Not so much Pollock, although he's terrific. I never cared much for Motherwell. Klein I like. I started going to art school at the end of that whole abstract expressionist movement. And of course what really confused everybody was the advent of pop art. Which, if you were to get with the whole idea of action painting or abstract expressionism, to have something that is basically manufactured, with silk screens and comic books. It just threw everybody for a loop. And that's about the time people at most of the universities basically stopped teaching. They just let you go. Pinkston and I basically learned to draw on our own. Because nobody was explaining anything. Because it wasn't necessary anymore. Basically I like the dialogue between the abstraction and the representational object. Because the representational object has meaning to the viewer, and the meaning to the viewer may have to do with totally different ideas than it does to me. But that's okay, because as a friend of mine that's a poet says, once you set it out there and send it forth, somebody's going to read it and see something entirely different. And that's fine. That's part of it. You may not have put it there, but all of those readings are part of what the poem's about. I like the fact that what I'm trying to do is make works that people can come back to, and look at again and again and find new things in. One of the things I've been very pleased with in the work that I've sold over the last thirty years is that a lot of the owners of my work, and of course they don't sell for a ton of money, a lot of the owners of my work have come back for a second and a third and a fourth painting. Because they like the experience of living with it. I had a sort of quasi-epiphany at the Dallas museum one time. I went over there, and the middle there's this sort of knave it's like a cathedral. And there's an Oldenburg. I love Oldenburg by the way. But you know, it's this rope that's holding up this great big circus tent, and it's sticking out of the wall. And then there's a giant Motherwell Spanish republic painting. Number whatever. Once you've seen one of them, you've pretty much seen them all. So there were these giant abstract paintings that could only be seen in a museum, because you can't live with them. And basically you see that and say yeah, that's a Motherwell. And what are you going to get out of looking at the 150th iteration of that big black and white painting. Well you can read the caption and yeah, it talks about Motherwell. People in a museum spend more time reading the caption than they do looking at the painting. Then I went upstairs, and there was a Daumier genre painting about this big, mid nineteenth century. And it was a group of men in a print sellers office. Chiaroscuro. And they were these guys. It was a portfolio with prints in it. And it was the most beautiful little picture. I thought, I could look at that thing everyday in the morning and get sustenance from it. Human experience painted beautifully, it spoke to me. I thought, okay I want to paint still lifes like that. I want to paint still lifes that you're going to look at more than you read the caption.

I've heard your work described as a sort of reaction to the de-emphasis of rudiments and basic drawing and painting skills, and also as you talk about now, this restriction of how much content you get to put into a work in the modernist, and maybe you wouldn't describe it that way, but . . . 

Yeah, you know Guston famously said, "I got sick of all that purity. I wanted to tell stories.

What do you think is the state of affairs today in terms of emphasis on craft and mastery?

I think it's an interesting situation. A lot of different kinds of art are acceptable and are respected. We don't have that single narrative anymore. Of course, the art world is still ruled by big money, and so there is a bizarre situation where stuff can be a hundred thousand dollars or stuff can be. This guy with the silver paintings, twenty-seven years old, just got his MFA a couple years ago. And he sold out a show at six to nine thousand dollars a pop. They're reflective silver emulsion paintings with discoloration on them. And they became so popular that someone bought one for ninety thousand dollars, because they couldn't wait for him to paint another one. And then another was put up at auction and sold for 375 thousand dollars. Now, for a twenty-seven year old that's got one thing going for him, to make that kind of money. I don't see how he's going to have a career. And he's a bright guy. He knows what he's doing. And his work is quite lovely. But if he does anything else, are people going to like it? Are they going to pay big money for it? So there is that element of money in the art world that always distorts things. Leon Golub, the social commentary painter said, 'If the art world wants a million dollar painting, it will create it.' In other words, artists do whatever they want. But the market, it's not simply a reward for good and original work. It likes to believe it's sorting things out. But it throws out a lot of good stuff, and keeps a lot of junk. And they're constantly revising the canon, but it doesn't always work out the way it should. There are thousands of artists who were very good at one point who have not been heard of in fifty years.

Can you tell me about the Woodstock community? Of course we all know about the music festival in '69. But tell me a little more in depth about what it was about and how it influenced you.

Yeah, I grew up in a town where everybody that my parents knew was an artist or a writer.

One aspect of your art that we've left out for the most part is your photography, which is interesting because it seems experimental in ways that your painting isn't.

Sure. It's how I can rediscover the joy of discovery that I felt when I was a kid making those abstractions. Because an abstract photograph is still based on reality. It's not an abstract painting. But you can reference abstract painting. I've always loved photography, and I've done it off and on. Basically the only photography I did when I came here in the '80s, besides taking pictures of my kids, and taking pictures of paintings, was Susan and I would document things. I like documentary photography a lot. As the art director of a state magazine, I became very interested in photojournalism. But when I got my first digital camera in the 2000s, I bought it to document my mother's estate. And I thought, I'm going to go out and take some pictures to illustrate some color theory. So I just started shooting color relationships. And I thought, oh that wall looks like the shutters in a Vermeer painting. And this looks like a Diebenkorn painting. And so I shot that. And I was driving home from school and the light was perfect on that and made a perfect half circle. And on a whim, after putting paintings in the Peach Festival show, I framed up a couple of these photos and put them in there. And this thing won first place, and that was bought. And I thought, damn! And then I had to hunt down the people who bought the paintings and go 'that print is not archival, here.' And switch.

Can you tell me about what motivated you to begin your academic career in art history, and then what motivated the shift to art making?

Well it was being in Europe and taking photographs, among other things. But I went into art history because I had majored in fine arts at Ameryst. And, you know, there's no money in art. You either have to teach, or whatever, but you're not selling paintings. Plus I didn't feel like I was good enough at that point. Because if you go into the family business, your parents are adult artists by the time you're a kid. How do you learn this stuff? As it turns out, everybody that I knew in Woodstock whose parents were artists, they all went into the art business. Everybody did. Writers' kids became writers. Artists' kids became artists. And I talked to my advisor at Ameryst, and said go into art history. Don't try to become a painter. He was bitter anyway, because he was a figurative painter, and this was in the fifties and everything was abstract. He was a painter, but he had a Ph.D. in art history so he was the art historian. So I took off, and I graduated. And I spent a year working in New York just to get my feet off the ground, get a little bit older. And I ended up working in a camera store with a friend of mine. And started taking photographs. My father had died when I was fourteen, so he wasn't around to show me anything. But I set up a darkroom. And got out his enlarger and started teaching myself to make prints. And my kid brother who died at twenty-one, he wanted to make films. And so we would go out, he with his movie camera, and me with my 35mm camera, and clamber around the Hudson river in 1962-63. So when I was going to graduate school in art history, which was what I did after I did that stent in the camera store, I was making photographs. I'd been going to the art students' league in the summer and drawing. So I was still tossing back and forth. But going to Europe in '64, I decided I wanted to keep making art. I really would have liked to stay and Europe and make photographs. I wasn't that good a photographer at that point. I didn't have the experience. And I would have been drafted possibly and sent to Vietnam. So I came back and went to grad school. The other thing that took me into that was the fact that my brother was killed in an auto accident at twenty-one. He was the one who was determined to make a film and do all this stuff. And I was the responsible one who was just going to get a job or whatever. And I think I said, you know, I'm going to do what I want to do. So I went out to Iowa, when I got back from Europe, and I enrolled in painting class, and had to start climbing the hill from way down. Because I didn't have nearly as much experience as most of my fellow students. Because I had only been drawing in the summers. And there was very little painting and drawing at Ameryst. It was mostly art history. And these kids out of big ten schools, some of them had come out of programs where they had been making prints and they were really good. Some were not so good. It was an interesting three years. I think it makes sense looking back, but at the time it felt like a strange move. And I remember lying awake one night and saying what am I doing? I'm wasting my time. Staying up until five in the morning feeling depressed and guilty. I got married and spent two years in New York working at a variety of jobs, including a custom photo finishing lab. So I absorbed a lot of New York at that point, went to shows and was aware of what was going on. And when I taught in Virginia at Sullens College, that got me in with colleagues and stuff like that, and my vision started to evolve. But I put it on hold more or less when I was in Vermont because when you have one and three year old kids running around, and you're trying to juggle two careers and do freelance stuff, you don't have a lot of time to make art. So coming to Louisiana Tech was the key. It got me the show in New York because I got the work done. It got me a chance to basically get a second MFA, come down here and hang around Ed Pinkston. Learn how to teach, learn that you can actually teach people how to draw. It doesn't just happen. That was a revelation. So I figured, hell, I can teach people how to paint. So it's been a very gratifying experience. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. And when you get into a classroom and start teaching, you also teach yourself. You learn. So that was for a long time it was just a really nice balance. But it was my brother's death and the photographs in Europe in '64 that tipped me into the creative end.

I think that's all the questions I have. It's difficult to cover everything.

It's good, I enjoyed it.

Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.

Department of Culture, Recreation & Tourism, in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council, Funding has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, a Federal agency.  In addition funding for the Holiday Arts Tour is supported by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Office of Cultural Development, Department of Culture, Recreation and Tourism in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council and administered by the Shreveport Regional Arts Council.

NCLAC Member to Exhibit @ Artspace

An assortment of Hooshang Khorasani's work will be displayed in the "Presents" exhibition at artspace in Shreveport from Friday, Nov. 11, through Jan. 7. The opening party is 5:30-8 p.m. Nov. 11. Hooshang is one of 17 artists in the show. artspace is affiliated with the Shreveport Regional Arts Council and located in downtown Shreveporton Texas Street. For the opening night only, there's a $10 admission fee; admission to artspace during regular hours is free – Tuesday and Wednesday, 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.; Thursday through Saturday, 10 a.m. – 10 p.m.; Sunday, noon – 6 p.m.

"Presents" is a shopping exhibition featuring the unique artworks of area artists. For one night only there's a 10 percent discount for purchases made at the opening Party, with free gift wrapping. Attendees can also enjoy holiday music performed by Mr. Christopher and AJ Haynes.Holidayrefreshments will be provided.

Piney Hills Harmony plans Holiday Market

Piney Hills Harmony Chorus of Sweet Adelines will sponsor a Holiday Market at Parkview Baptist Church, 1001 Forsythe in Monroe, from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Saturday, Nov. 12. Chorus members encourage you to bring your Christmas list, decorating needs, appetite and shopping enthusiasm to the event. President Carol Ogle, of Monroe, said, "You can cross things off your list and help us at the same time. It's one of those win-win situations."

Items offered for sale will include Christmas wreaths, Thanksgiving arrangements and centerpieces, signed and numbered limited-edition prints by Hooshang Khorasani of Ruston, baked goods made by chorus members and more. A drawing for Singing Greeting Cards is also scheduled.

Ogle said the event is a fundraiser to support the chorus' Jan. 21 annual show, which will benefit St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. "Rock Around the Clock" is set for Jan. 21 in the Dixie Center for the Arts. Guest performer will be Elvis impersonator Todd C. Martin, of Monroe. For more information, call Ogle at (318) 665-0569.

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Ashley Feagin, artist and grad student at Louisiana Tech. Ashley's latest piece is Devour: Daily Consumption and Restoration. You can find Ashley's work and statement at ashleyfeagin.com and learn more about the Devour project on facebook at http://www.facebook.com/add_email.php#!/event.php?eid=214503108615136 [wpvideo F73wC92u]

Let's do this, Russell.

Okay, let's do it.

Start by telling me about the project that we're at right now.

Okay. Devour, the Consumption and Restoration Project, the concept behind it is for everybody to connect on a pscyhological level. The fact that we all struggle with issues with our body, no matter what we look like. And then also that those things resonate in our mind, and they constantly come up. It's stuff that we deal with, but also a topic that you really don't talk about that often. So basically what I wanted to do was make this generic format where people could voice what they're struggling with internally. So for a month I'm eating lunch at this table everyday. And then also I've carved into the table, and I'm asking participants to carve into the table, the negative thoughts that they've had about their body or their image. Either stuff that they feel or they've been told about themselves. Whether they still struggle with it or not. And then every week, like on Tuesday, I go and I sand the table down. I try to get rid of those negative phrases. Hoping to lessen the impact. Because this is something I struggled with. I grew up never as the skinny person. I always was the chunkier girl. And so I was picked on a lot. But it wasn't until college that I started to really become confident in who I was, and not necessarily listen to other people. My image doesn't define who I am. Well, my weight doesn't define who I am. What I intend for this project to do is for people to connect that everybody struggles. And that you can be an amazing, awesome person, no matter what shape or size you are. And that confidence comes not from your outside exterior, but from inside of you.

Could you talk a little bit more about the significance of sanding down the marks?

The sanding down is hoping to reduce what people have actually written on the table. And it talks about, for me, those moments when you gain confidence with yourself, and you become comfortable with who you are. But yet you still have those things resonating inside of you. Because even if I am comfortable with who I am, I still have some doubts that linger on, from things that people have said about me, and that I've thought about myself. WHen I sand down the table, depending on how deep people have actually carved into the bare wood. There's one particularly that says, "I'm scared that I'll never find true love because of my weight." And it was carved in the table really deep. And that was something that, though I didn't write that, I also resonate with that statement. So it's one of the ones that I tried really hard to get off but I couldn't. And now somebody's come back and put ink into the carving, so obviously that's something that's a phrase that a lot of people have identified with.

What have people carved with generally?

Oh goodness. Everything. Keys. Paperclips. Nail Filer. Somebody brought out a knife and really got into it. A nail. Just any sharp object they have.

One interesting thing to me about the project is, these are very personal things that people might not want to share. Why do you think they do share them?

I think because they see that other people are doing it. And they find that connection to another person. Even though the other person is not physically there, the emotion of the other person is left in the table. And so they can connect with that and feel also connected with it. Most people do not carve at the lunch time. They carve outside of the lunch time.

How do you think the act of eating lunch with these people affects the meaning of the piece?

It's been really interesting because when I do eat lunch with people, we get into conversations about people's body. Like, I had lunch with a couple of girls who I consider to be really fit and, quote-unquote, what you should look like as a female, but they still had issues with their body that they struggled with. And I think the fact that the table has two chairs, instead of four or five, also emphasizes that idea of conversation. Like I'm making this a conversation even though people aren't there all the time. This table exists as a conversation. But back to the lunch times, it's really brought people together to discuss these issues. It's been fascinating to see what people are willing to share.

Do you think there's a connection between food and being self-conscious about eating, and then the body image aspect of the project?

I think there is on some level. For instance, another part of the project is I'm documenting what I eat everyday for thirty days. And I'm going to make a calendar, showing what I ate. And it's shown me personally that I'm so busy that I eat fast food a whole lot. So I think there is that connection, but I didn't want it to go into the health route. I wanted to delve into the psychological aspect of it.

Something I was thinking about this morning while I was considering this project, you know the obesity rate in America, and how other countries are becoming fatter as well, and it seems as if this is an issue that needs some kind of resolution. It makes me wonder if maybe ten or fifteen years from now, being overweight won't mean the same thing it does today. What are your thoughts on that?

I think it fluctuates. Because if you look back in early paintings of females, what was considering beautiful was a very curvacious and volumptuous body. Because those people who did have money were able to eat, and those people who didn't have money were skinny. And so our idea of beauty has switched, and I'm curious to see if it will ever switch back. I think that more people are taking the initiative to say this is who I am. Personally, even if I was to work out all the time, I know that I would never be a size one or two or three. It's just not going to happen. And I think that's where this conversation is. No matter where you are, you have to accept how beautiful you are, and how you look. And be confident in who you are. I think it's so important for people to have a mental health before they have a physical health.

What has the experience of doing this project been for you so far? What have you gotten out of it? What has been hard about it?

The thing that I have gotten out of it is the connection with other people, having other people carve something into the table and being like 'oh I was going to carve something like that into the table today!' And also like I said previously, I do eat a lot of fast food. Haha. And I know I'm not getting enough vegetables. And I do love vegetables. But I take them off of my burger. Haha.

What is the point of a daily project? Why is that somehow more meaningful than just doing something just whenever you have time or every few days or something like that?

For me the reason that I was doing it every single day is I wanted to emphasize the daily struggle that people have with these thoughts in their heads. And I also wanted to make myself accessible to people on a daily basis, and I wanted to be able to check and see what's been written on the table. I think that me just checking up on it once a week and having a big meal lessens the impact. I feel like I'm more fully committed to it when I do it everyday as opposed to once a week or something like that.

You were talking earlier about this project, I don't remember your exact wording, but helping people to have a dialogue or a conversation about stuff. I was thinking about this shift from art as this introspective, personal expression type activity, to more about exploring communication. Like, even graphic design is now communication design, and things like that. What are you thoughts about that?

I think there is a push when it comes to site specific art or performance art. One of my personal heroes/art crushes is Marina Ambramovic. And I guess that's why being here daily has been so important to me. Her recent piece The Artist is Present that she did at the MOMA. I forgot exactly how many days it was. I know it was a good couple weeks. She sat in a chair, and she allowed participants to sit across from her. And all they did was stare at each other. And it became a very emotional connection. Because sometimes as artists, all we do is put a piece up on the wall, and we're removed and we allow people to respond to it. But by being there daily, you get to see what your piece is doing. You get to see the interaction and the feedback from people. And I think that's one of the things that also inspired me to be here daily. Is being actually present in the piece and not removed from it. But I think there is a push . . . Also another artist who responded to Marina Ambramovic. I'm going to mess up her name. She's an Asian artist. She did The Artist is Almost Present, where she set up a twitter feed, and she tweeted between the participant that sat down in front of her. And so they communicated via 140 characters. But she was still able to connect to people on a different level. Because ultimately that's what art is about. We want something that's so personal to us to be put into a piece to become a universal conversation. But we are removed from it because we put it up on a wall and then we stand back. So I think artists are wanting a little bit more.

In this piece, there's no mastery or skillset involved. And I think for people outside the art community those pieces are the most suspect or the most open to derision. What makes this piece valid in the same way that a piece that shows mastery would be.

I see the validity in the fact that there have been some elaborate carvings into the piece, if you want to talk about skillset or mastery. That other people are allowed to carve into the table so you get to see their hand and their impression. I also think that the skill mastery conversation is starting to become, and I don't want to say this in a mean way, but it's almost old and dated. Because art has moved past just painting and drawing. And I'll even clump photography into that. There's a lot of media that have no classification now that are still considered art.

In your last two projects, this one and the large piece in the hallway . . . What's it called again?

Shift and Ache.

In both those pieces, you've moved  away from photography. Can you tell me the reason behind that move?

I experimented a lot with installation art in undergrad, and also the beginning of my graduate. For the first six months I didn't take  a photograph. I did installation and mixed media stuff. I believe that I should make a piece in the best way it can be communicated. And so if it doesn't need a photograph, it doesn't need a photograph. And I'm okay with that. I consider myself an artist and not just a photographer, if that makes sense.

Could you tell me about the progression from the other work I'm familiar with of yours, the white photographs, to this work?

This work, I wanted to continue with that installation stuff. I took a class with Nick Bustamante last quarter, and it's been in my directed study with him. And I feel like this work is a lot more personal. The Shift and Ache deals with a specific situation in my life, and this one also. I'm addressing specific issues in my life, and turning those into art pieces. As opposed to having an idea or concept or theme. This is me internalizing what I've dealt with and putting it out there.

Do you see any themes that have been present in the earlier work and the work that you're doing now?

Are you talking about my photo work?

Mhm.

Other people see connections, but I haven't seen the connection just yet. I think that's because my photo thesis work is just at a breaking point now. Maybe later I might. But right now I see them as two separate beings.

Two things that I see, one is the use of the color white, even in the installation piece that's in there. Can you tell me about the significance of that?

Always for me when I use white it's to symbolize purity and cleanliness and unobstructiveness. Just the purest state possible. In the piece in the hallway, I wanted as much of a violent reaction to the dye moving up the fabric as I could. And so, white being completely engrossed in this red dye was the most violent that I could think of.

The other theme that I see throughout is food. In some of your photography and also your personal life as a person. What do you see as the meaning or symbolism of food in your work?

I'm a southern girl, and I came from a really southern family, and a southern mother who loves to cook food. And the table was always this place of family and encouragement, and there was this comfort there. And so food has always had those ideas attached to it. So when I use baking a pie or cleaning up a mess of food in my photographs, that's what I'm connecting to. It's this source of I'm inviting you into this comforting space with me by sharing a meal with you.

How has your family history influenced your work.

A lot. Haha. And that's something right now that I'm dealing with with my photographs. And so when I come to a conclusion about that I'll share it with you, but right now I'm still wrestling with it. Because I grew up with a very southern religious family, and it has impacted my work a lot. I'm sorry, that's a really personal question right now. Haha.

Another really obvious influence is religion. And I'm interested in, one of course how it influences the work and what part it plays. But also I was thinking about, with most of your projects there's a sort of problem or tension that's very personal that's being resolved through the work or explored. Do you see your experience with religion as being approached in a similar way with the works?

Yes, I do. And I believe that religion and the topic of my upbringing, my heritage, is very much a propellant for most of my work. But again, it's one of those things that I'm just starting to realize is making so much of an impact on my work. I was subconsciously doing it, and now it was brought to my attention. It was one of those moments like oh okay, that's really what my work's about. And I'm sorry Russell, I can't give you a better answer than that. Just the fact that I'm seeing those things, and it's really personal. So once I resolve them, I'll be able to.

One interesting aspect about these two pieces, your most recent pieces, they require the context of some sort of work statement to go along with them. What's your feelings about that situation . . .

Project statements? Do I feel like their necessary? I feel like in some situations, yes. Particularly, with this Devour piece. Because I'm wanting people to actually do something, I feel it's absolutely necessary for there to be one. I feel like with photo work, the work should exist on its own, and the project statement or artist statement should just give an extra sparkle to the piece. And with the piece in the hall, a lot of people got that tension that I was trying to imply without even reading the artist statement. With installation work, I'm fifty-fifty. With some pieces I need that artist statement, especially with others' work, to help pull me in. But with other pieces, I can get it without being overwhelmed, without the statement. It really depends on the piece.

Who are some of your favorite artists?

Marina Ambramovic is a big influence right now. Erin V. Sotak. She's a photographer, but she's also an installation and performance artist. She has influenced my photographic works. Of course, I still like the greats like Sally Mann and Diane Arbus. Richard Avedon. I think he was a brilliant man. Jeanine Anthony is another one. Anne Hamilton. She's another good one. Sarah Hobbs. I have a huge list of photographers that I could just rattle off that have been really influential in my own work. But I connect with people that I can tell their person is in them, they're bringing their lives into their photographs.

How has being an artist affected your life as a whole.

Art is therapy. Even if you don't realize it, art is therapy. Because every piece that you put out there is a part of who you are in some form or fashion. So it's a little narcissistic. For me as an artist, it has helped me give a voice, and have a voice. If I wasn't making art, I don't know what I would do. On any level, performance, art, if I was acting, I was playing piano, whatever it is. Those avenues for me, are spiritual.

And, what about the other side? What effect does it have on the viewer? Do you see it as similar or the same or something entirely different?

I think it is an enlightening process to go view art, honestly.

Do you think it's therapeutic as well?

I do. But it's also dependent on how much a viewer is willing to think. If a viewer gives up on a piece of art because they don't understand it, then they're missing out on something that the artist is wanting to say.

You're teaching now. What has that experience been like?

Great. I went into grad school not knowing if I really wanted to teach. I thought about teaching, and it wasn't until that first quarter. Joey Slaughter was the professor I was TAing with. And he gave me a photoshop assignment in a basic design class. And I gave it, and once the students started connecting and making that connection, and I saw their progress. Well, you were in that class! I remember just one day being like 'holy crap I love teaching!' I don't know, I feel like you should always give back, in life in general, and you should help other people out. And if I can give something to other people, like knowledge and art or whatever, then I want to do it. It's this collaboration between teacher and student that is really exciting. Because I learn just as much from the students as hopefully they're learning from me.

What have you found that works, as a teacher?

Games. I know that sounds really weird, but for the first four weeks of class, I start every class with some icebreaker or stupid game. Because you need your class to have some type of camaraderie. We'll get into class and we'll become comfortable with who we sit by, etc. And so when it comes to critique, you don't have that where people aren't comfortable enough to really give feedback. Now on the flipside, it can become where people are so comfortable with each other that they don't want to offend each other. So it's learning that balance of getting the class to become comfortable with themselves. They get real excited. At the beginning of this quarter I had one student tell me, it's like summer camp coming into your class. But I can definitely see that in their critiques, that they're comfortable with each other and they can say 'ok, this is working and this is not working.'

I think that's all the questions I have. Is there anything that you'd like to add?

If you want to come carve on the table and come eat, come eat! And if you can't make it you should come to my thesis show in March!

Thanks for speaking with me, Ashley.

Not a problem.

NCLAC Member & Board President to Exhibt @ Tech

Peter Jones (NCLAC Board President) will be showing at the Bellocq Gallery in the Louisiana Tech School of Art on Tech's

campus.  An opening reception and artist talk, Going into the Family Business, will be held November 1st at 5pm.  Peter Jones earned a degree in fine arts from Amhert College and studied art history at the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, before transferring to University of Iowa, where he received his M.F.A. in painting.  He began his teaching career at Sullins College in 1969-73, and spent seven years as art director of Vermont Life Magazine before returning to teaching at Louisiana Tech University School of Art, where he retired after thirty-one years as Professor Emeritus.

LA Tech Theatre Honor Society to Present Play @ Black Box

Alpha Psi Omega is Louisiana Tech's Theater Academic Fraternity. They believe that as an organization our mission is to serve the community through enrichment of the cultural scene of our campus and community. One way that we are trying to do this is through performing casual staged readings of original plays written by budding playwrights.

Tuesday, November 1 at 7pm  Alpha Psi Omega is presenting an original play by Owain Johnston called "Intermortem," where a newly deceased man realizes that heaven has a budget and they have discovered reincarnation to be the most economic choice for the afterlife. Could your karma points land you as a mongoose?

Come pick up some coffee at the Black Box (207 N. Trenton St)  from the delightful baristas and celebrate Dia de los Muertos with Alpha Psi Omega!

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Dustin Rockwell, owner and operator of Cool Beans Cafe on California Ave. behind the biomedical engineering building, across from Griff's. [wpvideo PhnkGKD4]

You got the red beans and rice already?

Yes. Lunch special!

That's cheap. ($3.99) 

Yeah.

Do y'all make it here?

Yup!

Can you tell me why you decided to open a coffee shop?

I've always wanted to. I found the perfect location, so I went ahead and did it. Other than that, you know, I just had to do something with my life, and this is what I decided to do. I can't really say why.

Tell me what you've done previously career-wise.

Previously, just a bunch of joe jobs. I worked convenience stores. I worked construction. I worked at a tattoo parlor. Nothing like this, I can tell you that. I've always just had a boss and worked a 9-5.

So this is the first business that you've owned and operated yourself. How does it compare to what you expected it to be like?

It's a lot more work, obviously, than I expected. It's just something you've got to have patience with. Got to be creative. You've got to be able to attract the customer to come in. It's just different. It's not the same as working for somebody, you know. Making a pay check. You really have to work for your customer base.

Let me ask you, what all do you serve and offer now?

Coffee. We're doing the lunch specials. Red beans and rice. Tomorrow I'm going to do barbecue. Pulled pork sandwiches. Pizza rolls. All kinds of sodas, chips. Juice. Snickers ice cream bar. Whatever I feel like could be handy for the students to take out and eat on the way to class.

What are your plans for the future?

I want to get more art in here. I want to sell t-shirts. Expand my menu. Just listening to the customers and see what they want, and I'll go get it. Hopefully they'll come back and keep coming back.

You have Ricky Sykes' work on the wall now. How'd that come about? How'd you meet him?

I went to the Turbo Goat. I'm friends with Chris Bartlett. And I saw his work in there, and I thought it was really interesting. So I picked up one of his cards and just called him. And he was really excited about hanging a few pieces in here. So it's just a matter of getting out there and talking to folks.

Do you ride a bicycle?

I do.

What are some of your other hobbies?

I used to be a dj. As a matter of fact, we're going to throw a party up here Saturday night. Other than that, I just like to hang out. Haha. Right now I'm too busy for hobbies, to tell you the truth. I'm up here six days a week, and I'm constantly just trying to figure out ways to get people in the door. So I don't really have much time for a hobby.

Yeah, so you guys open at six, and you're open until . . .

Ten o'clock at night.

How does it compare to working for someone else?

It's very much more stressful. I feel like with just a regular joe job, there's not much room for advance. But I feel like here, if it starts picking up and doing well, it'll really pay off. But yeah, I love it up here. It's like a second home. There's nothing else I'd rather be doing right now.

You're not from Ruston, right?

No.

Where are you from?

I was born in Alabama. Grew up in Crossett Arkansas. And we moved here in 2000. So I've been here for ten or eleven years.

I think it's interesting how you didn't go to college, and now you're working almost literally on college campus. What's that experience been like so far?

So far it's been good. Everybody's been real nice. I like it here. I really do. I'm just thankful that I could get this location. It just kind of fell in my lap somehow. I don't really understand it, but here I am . . . Ok, so let me start from the beginning. The reason all this came about is, like I said, I was a dj. I had a roommate who was helping me, he would set up the speakers and the amps and all that, and then I would perform. Weddings. I did a show at Rabbs. I did a show at 3 Docs, back when it was still Cue Stick. And we were looking for a space to store all our equipment 'cause we had a ton. And it was just sitting at my house. So two blocks up the street up here, I saw space for rent. We checked it out. It was owned by the Flernoys, Bob and Patricia Flernoy. And just talking with them, Bob made a comment, this would be a really good place for a coffee shop, it being so close to campus. And I thought he had a point. It was a good location for a coffee shop. The students could just walk over and hang out. Well I didn't really think much about it. And a week later, my roommate passed. He died. So I was pretty much out of the dj business at that point. I couldn't do it all myself. So I remembered what Bob had said about the coffee shop. So I pursued it down there. We got into it. I made a business plan. We worked out the lease. And we had also talked to some contractors. They were recommending a ten thousand dollar handicap ramp, and a seventy-five thousand dollar fire wall. Which we weren't expecting that, and that was going to be too much for the owners to do. They pretty much wished me the best of luck and sent me on my way. Well, I started looking around at other places. I started looking at other places. I saw this place next door was up for rent. I called Frank Cadarro, we checked it out. He asked me what I wanted to do with it. I told him I wanted to open a coffee shop, and he said no you don't want this spot, you want this spot. I said okay, but I don't know if I could swing the rent. It's kind of up there. But we worked it out. We looked at the budget. We added in the Daylight Donuts and the espresso and all the goods. We felt like we could do it, so I went for it. And here I am. So that's a little more back story on how this came about.

Of course, you're not the only coffee shop in Ruston. What do you feel is different about Cool Beans?

We're so close to campus. We have a drive-thru. And it's not drab and dreary in here. I wanted it to be lively, so I painted it in lively colors. And I don't know, I just thought it would be a really nice place for people to come, hang out, study. Have study groups close to campus. People can just walk over. And I just wanted it to be friendly. A lot of coffee shops, you go in, they just ignore you, or they just take your order and send you on your way. I want to be friendly with people.

What's the most rewarding part of working here and owning the place so far?

So far, just seeing it come to life, you know?  I love it up here. It's a second home. I love talking with the customers.

Do you have a family?

I do. I live with my father. My mother's still up in Arkansas. I've got two sisters. They're both college graduates with families of their own. Hopefully one day I'll be able to afford to start my own family. That's another reason I wanted to do this. I wasn't getting anywhere with the convenience store jobs or any of that. So I had to take a chance with this, and try to be able to earn enough money to start a family.

Tell me about the design of the place. Your logo and color scheme. 

Cool Beans was a saying . . . It was suggested to me just to be Beans. And I thought, oh well, that's good, but I like Cool Beans better. So I went with that. And I took that idea to Rapid Signs, and we kind of played around with it. They came up with a few designs on their own. It wasn't exactly what I wanted. I wanted a character. I wanted a cool bean character. So we googled it, and we found some examples, and the examples that we came up with looked more like a potato than a bean. Haha. So they added the indention to the top of his head and the indention to the bottom. I think they changed the sunglasses around a little. And that's how the logo came about. When I saw it for the first time, the final draft of it, it was perfect. I figured it was catchy enough. Cool Beans. People can remember that. And they see the little bean character, and I hope that sticks out in their head.

Do you want to tell me about the kinds of coffee you have here?

Yeah. The One Love is an Ethiopian bean. It's a medium roast. But our specialty is the Jamaican Blue Mountain. It's a shade-grown bean, so it has more of a complex flavor to it. And they're just really premium espresso beans. The main complaint people have with coffee is bitterness, and it's not bitter at all. It's kind of a mellow, smooth taste. I like it. Everybody else likes it. Marley Coffee is a new coffee company. It's founded by Bob Marley's son. They're picking up speed, doing a lot of advertisement on facebook and twitter. It's gaining popularity.

Are you a Bob Marley fan?

I am a Bob Marley fan. Haha.

As a former dj, I'm sure you have a lot of opinions about music. What are some other people you like?

I've been kind of out of the loop lately. Deadmaus, I went and saw him. I used to love DJ Micro. Franky Bones. Bad Boy Bill. I was also really big into the alternative music scene back in the nineties. That was back when I was a teenager, so that fell right in my demographic. First concert I went to was Marilyn Manson. Haha. I've seen Pantera, and Rob Zombie. But now that I'm in my thirties, I just pretty much listen to classic rock. Haha.

It's strange how that happens.

It is strange how that happens. When I was a kid, it was MTV. Now it's VH1. I guess that's just life. You go through changes all the time.

What's your favorite coffee drink? How do you take your coffee?

I like mine sweet. So I like the white chocolate mocha or the mocha. We still get a lot of people coming in for the espressos or the Americanos. Our ice latte, people love it. People really like the ice lattes. But me personally, I like sweet.

I think that's all the questions I have. Thanks for speaking with me.

Oh yeah man, thanks for interviewing me.

An Encounter with M. Douglas Walton

The North Central Louisiana Arts Council (NCLAC) and regional artists M. Douglas Walton would like to invite you to a lecture and demonstration of design at his residence in Ruston, Louisiana on Friday, November 18^th.  This ticketed event ($30) includes a lecture, demonstration, home & grounds tour, and a small painting.  Two times are available 8am-12pm and 1pm-5pm due to space NCLAC is selling a limited number of tickets.  M. Douglas Walton is a nationally recognized water media painter who has taught over 350 workshops in 22 states, and has studied with noted watercolorists Edgar Whitney, Robert E. Wood, and Milford Zornes.  Three feature articles. “Close Encounters with M. Douglas Walton: Discovering a Deeper level of Creativity” Spring 1991, “An Encounter with M. Douglas Walton: Building Self-Confidence,” Spring 1996, and “The Gifts of our Mentors,” Winter 1999, have been published in Watercolor and American Artist. His videos, “Beginning The Odyssey” and ‘The Odyssey Continues” are available worldwide.

 In addition Walton is a noted collector of artifacts and artwork from around the world.  Since 1978 he has lead multiple “Journeys” to over 20 different countries in the world.  During this four hour encounter Walton will explore the idea of interior design and artwork from a unique perspective inviting individuals to experience the one of kind design of his home, ground, and studio as an example. 

 Proceeds of funds raised from this encounter will be donated to the North Central Louisiana Arts Council (NCLAC) to help fund their 14^th annual Holiday Arts Tour.  Tickets are $30 and can be purchased at the Dixie Center for the Art, 212 N. Vienna, Wednesday-Friday form 10am-1pm.  Tickets can also be purchased via credit card by phone at 255-1450 or via email at nclac5@gmail.com.  A portion of the proceeds will go to help pay for the 14th Annual Holiday Arts Tour November 18-20th.  To learn more about M. Douglas Walton visit his website at http://www.mdouglaswalton.com and to learn more about NCLAC visit their website www.nclarts.org.

Art Talk Monday

Recent paintings by Frank Kelley, Jr. will be on display October 20 – 28, 2011, at Grambling State University in the A.C. Lewis Memorial Library, in an exhibition entitled Life and Landscapes , hosted by Grambling’s Department of Visual and Performing Arts. The opening reception and a print signing will be held from noon until 2:00 PM on Friday October 21^st.

These works, range from 2000 to the present, and depict a variety of styles, from figurative abstracts to representional landscapes depicting North Louisiana, as Kelley describes it, “the most beautiful part of the country.” These pieces embody the themes and subject matter that make up southern culture. Kelley states, “My subject matter comes from my upbringing in North Louisiana and my travels, and stories from the elderly that were passed on.”  

In this context of southern culture, Kelley explores “how the past connects with the present and our future.” Kelley paints “the old and the new, today and yesterday, sorrow and happiness, struggle, hope, togetherness, and love,” finding inspiration in “a song, a vision, elderly man or woman, or even a historic landmark.”

The themes that play out in Kelley’s work are the same ones that define and guide us as a community in North Louisiana. They include “God, Faith, family, life, Wisdom, Stability, Love, Church, Compassion, Music, Community, Education, Value, Happiness, Struggle, Positive Growth, Humor, Enjoyment, Unity and Togetherness.” One might say these are the virtues of our culture, or material for a conversation about our virtues and their role in our collective identity. Kelley describes North Louisiana as “rich in culture, family oriented, and wholesome.” These works, inspired by strong faith and cultural pride, establish and argue that claim. Kelley states, “One reason I love art is because it identifies part of who we are.” When viewing Kelley’s paintings, one must consider the connection between identifying who we are and constructing that identity. Kelley’s work seems to do both.

Time, too, is an important subtext in Kelley’s work, whether it is that exploration of “how the past connects with the present and our future,” or his depiction of the elderly, or traditions such as Jazz, juxtaposed with the contemplation of the timeless, such as God, Humor, Struggle, and the tenuous, such as our natural environment, our loved ones, and our lives.

For Kelley, painting is a form of storytelling. “Vibrant colors weave their way across trademark rag paper,” creating “a world in which the observer becomes a participant,” Through this rich, complex visual storytelling, “Frank Kelley, Jr.’s paintings interpret real stories motivated by true-life situations,” causing the viewer to “transfix himself in the story, closely relating to elements both obvious and subtle in each painting.”

 Frank Kelley, Jr., an alumnus of Grambling State University, has shown across the country in places such as New York, Detroit, Chicago, and New Orleans, and has been featured in the American Artist Blue Book and Art and Antiques magazine. Kelley anticipates that students of Grambling attending this exhibit “will see my hard work and dedication,” and adds, “I would hope that the students of Grambling State University will be inspired, appreciate and value the many styles and techniques.” Kelley hopes this exhibit will “have a long lasting (positive) effect on their lives.”

 In his art and his life, Frank Kelley, Jr. is an advocate for education, community involvement, and “the value of art.” Kelley has founded two community art programs, the Youth Arts Initiative Program and the Education Arts Initiative Program, reaching over 1,000 children across the United States, assisting them to become better citizens through art.

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Kenneth Robbins, Director of the School of Performing Arts talks to me about the Tech Theatre department's production of Our Town, opening this Wednesday, October 26th, at 7:30 PM. Our Town will run two weeks, Wednesday through Saturday. For tickets, call 257-3942 or visit the Howard Auditorium lobby between 1:30 and 4:30 Monday through Friday. This interview has been edited for length.

[wpvideo L6gXk28U]

 Our Town starts next week; can you give me the show times?

 Yes, it starts on Wednesday night, the 26^th of October, and plays that week the rest of the week through Saturday the 29^th. 7:30 PM curtain. And then the next week Wednesday through Saturday, November 2^nd through 5^th.

 And when and where can people get tickets?

 The box office is open Monday through Friday from 1:30 to 4:45. And that's located in the Howard Center for Performing Arts in the lobby. The telephone number is 318-257-3942.

 How much are the tickets?

 Adults, $10. Students with ID is $5. Non-Tech students and senior citizens, $6.

 And they're on sale now, correct?

 Yes.

 Who chose Our Town as the play, and why?

 The faculty chose it last year when we had our discussions regarding our forthcoming season. And I'm glad we did, because it fits in really quite well with contemporary times, matters, and issues.

 In what way?

 In 2001, a very famous theatrical company in Connecticut called the Westport Country Playhouse was looking for something that would address the audience's needs in regards to reacting to 9/11. Which had just happened. And they decided to open their 2001 season with Our Town, because it is the quintessential American play. It revitalizes the whole concept of who we are as Americans. And I find that to be rather effective today, because we're, what, ten years out now. Ten years ago, 9/11 happened. So I think it's time again for us to revisit this wonderful play, all about being proud of being Americans.

 Do you see similarities between the archetypal town in Our Town and Ruston?

 Absolutely. Our Town is Grovers Corners, New Hampshire, but it can be any town anywhere in the world. In fact, this particular play was produced quite commonly in other countries. So I think the universality of the subject matter is very, very effective. Yeah, Our Town is Ruston, Louisiana.

 How's the context over time between when Our Town was written and now changed the meaning of it and how it's received.

 That's an interesting question, because I really can't address that universally. I can just look at it from my personal point of view. I know that revisiting this wonderful play, I first was introduced to it when I was a junior in high school. And I think that still is something of the case throughout the country. You too?

 Mhm.

 I fell in love with it. Not just because of the subject matter, but also for the way Mr. Wilder managed the theatric space. It's a minimalistic approach. And there's no such thing as plot time necessarily. It's the universal time. I think Thomas Wolfe is the one that said “time is nothing more than the coming and going of light.” And in many ways Wilder has accepted that idea. And so we bounce around in time throughout the whole play. It does progress. First act is 1901. Second act is 1904. And third act is 1913. But still, it could just as easily be 2001, 2004, 2013, for that matter.

 It's been a long time since I read the play. I read it in high school or junior high. I know life and death, and life after death is a big theme in the work. How do you think that will relate to the culture in Ruston, the church culture, and also the international and multi-religious culture?

 Even though this play deals very clearly with a religious context, it's not specific. The whole concept seems to be we're all on this planet, and we're all striving to make the best of it as we can. And it doesn't really matter what church you go to, because the universality, the human nature of the play is going to address the concerns and the issues. There are references of course to the congregational church. That's where the marriage takes place in the second act. But all of that is peripheral. It's not a real wedding ceremony. It's a rite of passage. The first act is called Daily Life. Second act Love and Marriage. Third act is Death. Even the stage manager says, some of the things that the dead people say may hurt your feelings. That's just part of it. And that's not necessarily a good thing or a bad thing. It simply is. One of the things that Mr. Wilder stresses in his play is the nature of numbers. Over and over, the words millions and billions and thousands and hundreds are used quite readily in the play. The final act, even though we're listening to dead people speak, they're talking about the nature of the universe. And there's nothing more humanistic than that, to be contemplating the fact that we are looking at a star, and it takes millions of years for that light to get from that star to earth. It's quite extraordinary when you look at it released from the constraints of a particular religious idea. And look at it from a human idea.

 What relevance do you see this place as having for young people and for college students?

 Oh, it's extraordinarily relevant. The rite of passage is very clearly defined. One of the wonderful things for me is, as I watch this play, I can remember how it was when I was young. How I felt whenever I felt as if the world was against me or for me or whatever. Because this play captures those essences. It allows us in our memories to return to a nostalgic era. And recognize ourselves in the actions of these young people that we see. Much of the traditions of the so-called American dream are either created by this play or being validated by this play. The American dream of a white picket fence around a home, that's there. The American dream of the girl or the boy next door as being the love of your life, that's there. All of these things are endemic to this particular play. And it's exciting to see the young people, the audience, the cast members, buying into this notion so willingly and so effectively.

 Do you think these traditional elements we're talking about with the American dream, do you think they're realistic, do you think they're unrealistic? How do you see them as coming into play with real life?

 Mr. Wilder's quite clear in his statements about realism. One of the things he was doing in 1937-38 when he wrote this play was responding to the so-called realism that had been taking over the American theatre. Realism to the point that you needed three walls in order to create the image of an American home. He does away with that. He's very clear in his statements of recognizing traditions and conventions as they're being applied and utilized on the stage. And saying, it is nothing more than a convention. We don't really need it necessarily. So he all but discards all of the traditions of realistic theatre. And in their place, he has a bare stage. It's what he calls a platform and a passion. That's all you need. I think there's something else you need, that's an audience. But he says all you need is a platform and someone with a passion on it. And this will result in some very compelling stuff. And in fact, our stage is fair. There are only a few pieces of furniture and that's it. The actors move freely in and around and through the space. And they define the space by how they use it. So realism as you refer to is not necessarily a good thing when it comes to Wilder's plays. It is a constraint. It's convention that has been implied and is no longer necessary. And that's one thing I find exciting about this play. He says look at your conventions. Determine which ones you need to keep, for whatever reason. And if you don't need them, discard them. Use something else. Create a new convention. And I think he did that, in 1938, can you believe that? A convention that we still find revelatory in contemporary 2011.

 I think that's interesting when you take it in the context of the economic culture of today and the bareness of resources.

 That is an interesting observation because the economics of 1938 are being played out today. We were just in 1938 coming out of the Great Depression. And today in 2011 it feels as if we're just now beginning a new depressive era. I hope not. But still, there seems to be this incredible feeling for the nurturing presence of a nuclear family. And that's something that this play is all about, is the nuclear family working side by side for a common goal, for the betterment of the entire community. I would love for this community, for Ruston, to come and experience this play. Because it's about them. It's about us. It's about all of us. We don't get to do that very often, you know what I mean? Oftentimes it feels as if we're not connecting. But in this instance, I feel as if Our Town does connect, and that it is important for us to reach out for the community.

 On that note, can you give me your ideas about what purpose the theatre serves in a community?

 Haha. Well for one thing, it's live. The actors are breathing the same air as the audience. And there's something unique about that. You can go to a movie, and there's some distance there. It's a medium cooled. But when we get into the theatrical space and realize that the person that just introduced me to the theatre, the usher, is also an actor. And the reality is, some members who just came in, they're not actors, but they're being asked to be a participant in this play. Russell, you could be asked to be a cast member, if you want. It's your choice. The playing space for the audience is the playing space for the actor. So the actors come and go through the audience. They intermingle. We're not taking the house lights out for the first two acts. We do for the third act, Death and Dying. But I think that the audience is going to be quite intrigued by this. I hope so. That's our goal, is to intrigue an audience enough to want to come and see it.

 Have you deviated in any way from the original script?

 Oh no. We've kept the script as written. There've been a couple of places here and there where we've cut a line. But nothing significant. There's a moment in the play written where the stage manager says here's some scenery for those of you who insist on having scenery. Well I've decided we don't need that. We're not having any scenery at all. So we cut the line.

 Sorry what was the playwright's name again?

 Thornton Wilder. He's one of the very few writers that America produced that actually won Pullitzer prizes for both drama and fiction. His novel the Bridge of San Luis Rey. And then he won the Pullitzer again for his drama called Our Town. And then again for his other drama called The Skin of Our Teeth. So he's a three time recipient of the highest literary award our country has to offer.

 Can you talk a little bit about a few of the actors in maybe some of the lead roles?

 I've been very blessed by having such a dedicated young group of actors to deal with. They have really devoted themselves to this project without any reservations, at least that I have been aware of. And I hope that I don't become aware of any. Haha. And the young people are just so talented here. That's something I've been impressed by. Not only are they talented, but they're well trained. They're well prepared. They know how to handle a bare stage, which is not easy. Most of our actors today are props actors. They have to have a prop in their hand in order for them to behave properly. But in this instance, there are no props. They have to mime everything. And the only tradition that we are keeping is lighting. And that's because an audience requires the opportunity to see the face of the actor. Therefore we have traditional stage lighting. But other than that, I think we're breaking free. I hope Mr. Wilder would find pleasure. Probably not, because he's seen the play so often he doesn't want to see it again. Haha. Who knows. You know, he played the stage manager on many occasions, on Broadway in fact.

 Talk about the role that you play in the production of this play.

 My job as director is to make sure the play is communicated clearly and unequivocally for an audience. That they can understand the nature of what they're experiencing, so that they can leave it feeling complete or informed or maybe both. At least nostalgic is what I'm hoping for. So I as the director, one of my principle jobs is to be the surrogate audience until the actual audience arrives, in preparation for the actors to do the jobs. The technicians to do their jobs, etc. All of it is aimed toward communication with an audience. And that's the reason we do it.

 Tell me about some of the other people behind the production of this play and their roles.

 I'm very pleased with the opportunity to work with the Associate Dean of Liberal Arts. Bill Willoughby has never been on stage before, and when I suggested to him that I had a perfect role for him, he said I'll do it. And he's been wonderful to work with. Matter of fact, I'm looking forward to him having a chance to play for an audience. That will be a brand new experience for him. So Mr. Willoughby has been a delight. The set design by Mr. Stevens, our technical director here at the university, has realized exactly what I was hoping for, which is a non-descript, black empty space. Hallelujah. It works. The lighting, we'll find out tonight when we add lights for the first time. The costumes, we'll find out next Sunday when we have our first dress rehearsal and the costumes are added. But basically we're saying through costumes, this play is today. This play is not 1901. Though we talk about 1901, the play is 2011. So we'll find out if it works.

 I always like to ask, what advice you have for the audience that comes to the play? How do you get the most out of the experience?

 Come with a clean heart, a clear heart and a clear head. And be willing to accept what is presented before you. And take it home. Chew on it. Spit it out. Share it. Whatever. Just don't prejudge it. Try your best to be open.

Enterprise Center to feature NCLAC Member

Keep Moving, Handmade Books and Photographs by Frank Hamrick opens at the Enterprise Center Friday October 21st

Frank Hamrick's photography has the reoccurring theme of responding to the natural and man-made environment surrounding him. In his show he makes a change from his well-known black and white photographs and treats Ruston to a rare look at his color work.  The exhibition will include photographs that he has made over the past five years but never before exhibited. There will also be a chance to see some of his award-winning handmade books – which feature his black and white photographs- in person.

Frank will also be giving an Artist's Talk on Wednesday, October 26th at 7pm.

Frank Hamrick is an Assistant Professor of Photography and Photography Area Coordinator for the School of Art at Louisiana Tech.

The opening reception for Keep Moving will be held on October 21st from 6-8 pm. Gallery hours are Monday- Friday 8am - 5pm.

The Enterprise Center Art Gallery proudly features the work of Louisiana Tech students, faculty and staff. It is located at 509 West Alabama Ave., Ruston LA

 

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Todd Cloe, wood sculptor of benches, rings, and large works for galleries. Todd is also the Woodshop Technician at Louisiana Tech. You can explore Todd's art at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Cloe-Studios/116171901774199 This interview has been edited for length.

[wpvideo dgH3wNZi]

 Could you start by telling me how you decided to become an artist?

 I knew from the time I was about a fifth grader that I wanted to really study art. I had always drawn. I made a little soap sculpture of an owl head when I was in third or fourth grade. My dad helped a little bit, but I felt like it was all mine, you know? So I thought, 'This is something that I can do.' Didn't offer art until the sixth grade. And I took an art class and really enjoyed it. Simple stuff, drawing, and little toothpick houses. And then art wasn't offered again until my freshman year in high school. I took art all through high school and really did well. I won a couple of little competitions for the kids. We'd all travel to one of the local universities, and the art professors would assess everybody's work. And hand you a little ribbon. Everybody got a ribbon; some just for participating. Mine happened to be blue and red. So I got a little positive feedback. Then I went to Oklahoma State Tech. It was just a two year program in commercial art. I thought that might be where I wanted to go. My granddad said, “Todd, if you're going to do art, you need to do something people will pay for so you can have a steady job. So commercial art's the way you need to go.” So I did that, did very well. Of course, there weren't any computers until my last trimester there. And this was '82. Hardly anybody knew anything about them, so everybody was learning how to hand-render things. So my drawing skills and my lettering skills got real good. I still use the lettering skills here and there, that I picked up so long ago. I went on interviews, and didn't get picked up by anybody. And thank God, my aunt asked me if I wanted to go to a four year school and study art. I'm like, “Yes!” So I did that, went to Oklahoma state. And I got my BFA in '89.

 Were you still studying commercial art?

 No. I had gone in in commercial art and realized, 'This is a mistake. There's no reason to do this.' So I changed after one semester, and did very well in my drawing classes. I tried to take a drawing class every semester. And eventually I was taking painting classes and doing very poorly. I could not get above a D in my painting classes. And I was there all the time; my stuff was more paint by numbers almost. The drawings were solid underneath, but the actual painting part was very rudimentary. Then I took my first sculpture class. My very first project, he said that it's open, you can use any material, it's just got to be an organic form. I saw this stump in this guy's front yard, and I asked him if I could take his stump away from him. And he said, “Yeah, here let me get the garden hose. And I'll get the ground nice and wet, and we'll pull it out.” It was a cedar stump. So I started carving on that. All I had was a chisel and a mallet. And eventually started buying a file here and there and a rasp where I could get into the tight places. It eventually became a very nice piece, and my sculpture teacher said, “Todd, sculpture is your thing. Don't let anybody tell you any different.” He really enjoyed watching me work on that, because I was just all elbows and sawdust, and sweat. It was a very physical, labor intensive piece. My mother's got that at her house, and she's very proud of it. I did a few more wood sculptures and realized, you know I do this pretty good. I was working nights at the time. I worked for Safeway. I worked nights for ten years, running the night crew. It was a pretty hard thing to go to school all the time, and my grades suffered a little bit. I think I had a 2.9 average when it was all done. I always wanted to go to grad school, but never got real motivated to do that until I got married in '97. My mother-in-law, who's a very generous person, she paid for my graduate program here at Tech. And it was a really good ride. I made a lot of nice big pieces, was really happy about those. And got a lot of positive feedback. I guess that's it in kind of a long nutshell.

 I was thinking about how big a part tools play in your life and your art. Of course, you work as the woodshop technician. And often a big part of the sculptures and benches and rings you make, they almost act as a record of the interaction of the tool with the wood. I was wondering first of all what sort of significance and meaning do you see in that, in the use of tools?

Gosh, man's been fascinated with tools for thousands of years, and I guess I'm really no different, other than I try to do something aesthetically different with the tools. I like to leave tool marks that, like you said, do give a little bit of a history of what's happened to the wood. And my large sculptures are inspired by Native American handtools that I've picked up over the years. Most of them were broken little curiosities. I would take the broken parts and rearrange different parts of different tools, and then blow the scale up and make them really large. The sculptures were inspired by Native American handtools. I would walk these cotton fields and find these pieces of Native American handtools and my mind would wander, imagining what they were used for. So you'll see whenever you look at my work, finger divets that might be six or eight inches across, just trying to kind of keep in scale with the size of the tool maybe. Not necessarily that a giant race of people used these tools, but just more of a design element I guess. When they get that large, they really start not to speak so much about handtools anymore, but they take on their own presence. They command a space, you know. You see them upright, and they just scream come here and look at me.

What are some of your favorite tools to work with?

I love working with the chisel and the mallet. That is just about as personal as you can get with extracting the wood. It's very slow, but the payoff is you can see a mistake before it gets too far along. Whereas if you're using a chainsaw you can really go too far in a hurry and maybe not be able to save something. Speaking of saving things, I've been pretty lucky. I've never had an accident that I couldn't make better than it was whenever I originally thought of it. A lot of times the wood will only let you do what it will let you do. If you try to force something, it typically shows, or it just won't happen. But I have never had nothing but happy accidents. I've lost things and really stressed over it, and then come to find out I didn't need that element of the sculpture anyway. It's better off without it. Getting back to what you're saying though, the chisel for me is a great thing. I really like the chainsaw wheel. It's a little four inch disk with a chainsaw on the outside of it. It grinds a lot of wood in a hurry. I like that. You can't work too fast with the wood. You kind of have to be a very patient person. You can't rush it.

I was thinking about how much time and effort goes into making each piece. They're very heavy pieces of wood oftentimes. It's also just a feat of strength and endurance. I read on the website that during one piece you had to have back surgery in the middle of it. I was wondering, how do you think that affects the value and the meaning of the piece?

 I don't know, other than whenever someone walks up to it, they can just tell. My God, moving this piece is a feat in and of itself. I'm hoping it will affect the value in a positive way. Haha. I like being able to be seen as somebody who really puts a lot of effort into what I'm calling art. That makes me feel good. Because it does take a lot of effort. I'm not saying it's not art if it comes easy. It's just that I can't go there. I have to, it seems, bleed a little bit, and strain myself, to actually reach an end.

 How much of the sculptural pieces you make is planned, and how do you plan? And how much is unplanned?

 Really very few of them are actually ever planned out. I did plan one, but only half of it looks the way it did when I did my drawings. Every one of them have always been, 'Ok, I'll just start with this blank canvas, being a large stump, and just start making marks on it, and kind of drawingthe in the wood with the chain saw. And constantly walking around the piece. Stepping back and looking at it. And taking off some notches here and there. Every single time, something has come about that's worthy of finishing. I do have in mind that 'Ok, this is tool-like. I need to have certain elements in the sculpture.' Some areas kind of have to be concave, and something else may have to be convex. Or there has to be a point or a serrated edge or something like that. So there is some planning, but nothing is ever drawn, or exactly how I draw it is how I'm going to make it. That's never happened.

 When you take the different kind of woods, and then also consider the Native American tool influence, you can think of it either as a geographical element to the pieces, or maybe an interaction between human history and natural history. You know what I mean?

 Right. The bodark tree was revered by the Indians. That's what they made their bows out of. Bodark translates “arc of a bow.” It has a lot of flexibility to it. It will flex a lot more before it snaps than any other hardwood. And I'm sure they experimented with a lot of different kinds of woods for their bows and realized this is the only one that really works great every time. And it's absolutely impervious to bugs. If they get into the heartwood, they will back right out. I used a piece of bodark that was at my granddad's dairy farm. It was a corner post that he and his dad never used. And it laid by the dairy barn for seventy years. You can imagine what's in a dairy, a lot of cow dung everywhere. And the bugs had gotten into the sapwood, but once they got into the heartwood they backed out. So it was a very structurally sound piece. It was in great shape. I made my wife's and my wedding rings out of that wood. Whenever we got married. She has metal allergies. I made us that wooden wedding set out of that wood. I think the wood rings really are a better metaphor for a marriage than a diamond is. Because diamonds are absolutely forever, and marriages rarely ever are. And like a marriage, the wood rings need a little bit of attention. They need some maintenance. You've got to be careful with them. And that's exactly like being married. If you want to maintain that, you've got to do something to protect it, and seal it against the elements that would otherwise ravage it.

 I keep thinking about what it would be like to find one of your sculptural pieces hundreds years from now the way you found the tools that they're inspired by.

 That would be quite a find. I'd like to be there for that. And you know, I've thought about how temporary people are on this planet. And avoiding a fire, everything I make will definitely outlive me. Especially if the sculptures are enjoyed by somebody, they're going to be taken care of. It's a dream of mine to see one of my pieces on antiques roadshow. Haha.

I like to think about the way it portrays our society. Obviously it signifies an appreciation for tradition and other cultures, and leaves out a lot of that stuff that will fade away because it's on a disk, on a harddrive or something.

Right. Not that you can't make art with technology, but to me, if I can't see that somebody has really put some effort into making something, I struggle with validating that it is truly art. I'm sure that's just me. There's a lot of people that can put things together and call it art and sell it for lots of me. But in the end those things fade away, and what stays is something with some permanence. Where there's some record of somebody's toil that they've gone through to create something. I think that that will ultimately survive and outlive all of these other ephemeral artforms that are everywhere.

What do your sculptures convey to the viewer about you?

 I think they can tell that it's somebody with a strong will to start something of that kind of magnitude. I'm hoping they're saying to themselves, 'God, I could never do this. But here's somebody who can.' I hope that they see the finesse that I try to give every square inch. I leave very little untouched. You just have to go around the whole piece many times and address it all. They might think, 'Oh, here's a guy with a lot of time on his hands,' maybe. It does take a lot of time.

 And you really don't have a lot of time.

 I really don't. It's an illusion! Haha.

 Thank you for speaking with me.

 Oh you're welcome. I enjoyed it.

NCLAC is supported in part by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Office of Cultural Development, Department of Culture, Recreation & Tourism, in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council, Funding has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, a Federal agency.

Arts Academy for Adults: Color and Composition Workshop

"The whole world, as we experience it visually, comes to us through the mystic realm of color." Hans Hoffman

In honor of National Arts and Humanities Month, NCLAC Arts Academy is proud to offer a new adult class at a discounted rate. Nicole Duet's Color and Composition Workshop will offer even seasoned painters a fresh look at the study of color theory. The class will meet on Saturday, October 22 and Saturday, October 27, from 9:00am to 12:00pm. The fee for the two-day class is $30 for NCLAC members, and $35 for non-members.

This hands-on workshop is a color intensive divided into two parts. In the first half students build their color awareness through the practice of mixing. Secondary benefits include learning to mix with intention and getting the most variety out of a limited palette.
The second half focuses on an introduction to fundamentals of composition. Students will complete a small painting while studying basic principles of color harmony. Course includes slide lectures, personalized attention, and instructor demonstrations.

Nicole Duet is a New Orleans native who has recently returned from southern California to become an Asst. Professor at LA Tech School of Art. Nicole has given color workshops and classes throughout Los Angeles including both California State University Northridge and Long Beach, and for the animator's union at the American Animation Institute of Los Angeles. You can see her work at www.nicoleduet.com.

Pre-registration required. Call 255-1450 or email nclac5@gmail.com. Call for supply list.

Adult Arts Academy classes are part of NCLAC's educational outreach. NCLAC believes the visual, performing and literary arts are a necessary enhancement for all individuals and seeks to enrich the region by fostering opportunities for creative expression.

NCLAC is supported in part by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Office of Cultural Development, Department of Culture, Recreation & Tourism, in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council. Funding has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, a Federal agency.

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Allison Gilbert Bennett, actress and owner of Stitchville, knitting and fabric shop in downtown Ruston. You can find out more about  Stitchville on Facebook or at Stitchville.wordpress.com. This interview has been edited for length.

[wpvideo pXJCdWVY]

 So, can you start by giving me a rundown of what all you do. I know you own Stitchville, and you're an actress, and you're also a teacher.

 Yes. At Stitchville we have fabrics and yarns for sale. And then I do custom sewing for people. Alterations, and some monogramming, other things like that. We also have a full line of sewing and knitting classes. So even if you've never touched a sewing machine, don't know what a bobbin is. I've got beginning classes for kids and adults. And we go all the way up, I now have a series where you can sew things for the home. And also I've gotten some more patterns in, to learn how to read patterns and sew your own clothes, which people are pretty interested in. So you can pretty much do anything.

 I was reading on your blog about the alpaca adventure. Could you talk about that?

 A couple of customers and I . . . I used to have some handspun yarns. And a lot of people enjoy having that unique, natural, sometimes naturally dyed yarn that really make a statement. So a couple of customers of mine found this alpaca farm out in Tululla or someplace. She contacted them, and we went and met them in Monroe. And they brought sacks of blankets that they had sheared off the alpacas. So we sifted through those for a while, and we've been washing them. And I started spinning mine. It's slow going, but it's interesting. I'm learning a lot about yarn and fibers. I'm realizing why people didn't have a lot of outfits back then, haha, when they had to actually get the sheep and shear it and wash it and spin the wool. It's a labor. But it's kind of fun. I'm actually going to look into starting teaching some drop spindle classes, where people can get the spindle and get some, it's called roving when it's all been prepared to spin. And I'm going to start looking into getting some prepared rovings and teach some spinning classes, so people can make their own handspuns. It's really not hard.

 How did the desire to open a fabric shop come about?

 I don't know. It's something that I've been wanting to do for a while. Years ago, right after I graduated college, which I graduated in theatre here in Tech, I worked at Fabulous Fabrics, which she had a shop here in town. Now she's just in Monroe. I worked in the costume shop at Tech, so I learned a lot about sewing and fabrics and all that. But working at that fabric shop, I got to see all the fabrics, and see what they were doing, people who'd come in, what their ideas were. It got me interested. And after that, my husband and I got married and we moved overseas. He was in the army. And I did a lot of sewing over there. I wanted to open a shop, but we were on an army post overseas, and it was not possible to do it there. So I did a lot of sewing out of our apartment. Just different things. And every time we would come back to the states, I would go and buy a suitcase worth of fabric and bring it back with me. So I started kind of hoarding fabrics. Finally whenever we moved back to Ruston, I'd still been sewing. I couldn't find a job that I wanted bad enough to spend my days there. And I felt like there was a niche in Ruston that needed to be filled. With a different feel of a fabric store. For the people who don't know how to sew. Normal people who don't know how to sew don't walk into a fabric store because it's very overwhelming. So I wanted to create an environment for people who have ideas and just don't know how to complete them yet. It's like taking an art class. You have all these ideas, and you just don't have it in your fingers. You don't think that way. I wanted to create an environment that is both inspiring and just unassuming, I guess. For somebody to be able to walk in and say 'I would like to learn how to do that!' And I can say 'I can help you!' You know. I'm not a person who has a lot of ideas. I am, but I'm a person who likes to talk to people about their ideas and feed off of that. And watch ideas grow into something that you can make with your own hands. I just think there's such a fulfilling thing about starting with raw materials and ending with a finished product. You've got this new skillset now.

 It seems like when I was younger, sewing and knitting weren't really the cool thing to do. And now it seems pretty cool. Am I imagining that shift?

 No, there is definitely a shift of craftiness if you will. It's kind of the same feel as the shift to people more locally. People want to feel like they're contributing to their own lives more. And the things that are going on immediately around them. And I think that shopping locally, and starting to use their spare time in a way that is creative. And not just sitting there playing on your iPad. Which we're all guilty of, and I love my iPad. But you want to feel like at the end of the day you've got something else to show for it. I really push that sewing and knitting are fun. Because a lot of people are like 'oh, I took home ec three times, and it just was no fun.' We don't make things for serious. I would rather throw a sewing party than have a sewing lesson. Haha. And if you're not having fun, take a break. In this day and age, you're not making clothes because it's cheaper, you're doing it because something inside you wants to learn something new. If you're not enjoying it, then you're not going to continue doing it.

 What did you start out making when you were overseas?

 I started out, since I did the costumes at Tech, I got involved in the theatre overseas. So I did most of the costumes there. Alterations. I did a lot of patches on uniforms because we were on an army post. So people would get their rank changed, and I would have to sew the new patch on. That was probably one of the most nerve racking things. Because you have to get it precise. You can't get it crooked. It's regulation, so I would get really nervous about sewing patches on officer's uniforms, because I was just some chick . . And they could get in trouble for it if it was on the wrong shoulder, or off by a half an inch or so. I did that a lot, and it was just word of mouth. And I ended up doing a lot of bags. I started doing my line, Repursables. Because I started off doing reversable and repurposed bags. We would do bazaars and craft shows. So a lot of people on the post knew me, and knew that I was the sewing chick.

 I know you're a mother. How old is your son now?

 We have a two year old, and one on the way in January. So probably around Christmas. I usually get pretty busy around Christmas. After Christmas in January it usually gets pretty slow. So that's good; I think I will probably be slowing down, by necessity.

 What are the advantages to being, say, a working parent or a parent that's active in the community, rather than a stay at home parent?

 When you have children, it's so easy to lose everything that you did for your entire life in your kids. I've seen parents that had an active life, and then they had kids and their life just stopped. I read these stories of parents who haven't had a date in five years, and I think that is so sad. Because you can't lose yourself. It's not good for you. It's not good for your kids to see that you've given up everything that you used to enjoy. Being a parent, especially a working parent, comes with a lot of guilt. Because you want to spend all day every day with your child, because it's your responsibility. But at the same time, you have to go out into the world. And you need to do things in order to make the world run. It's one of those conundrums that you just have to find your own balance. There's a lot of moms who thrive at being stay at home moms. But I feel like you owe it to yourself to continue to do those things that make you happy. Be artist or working or whatever it is.

 Can you tell me how being a mother has changed your outlook or your ideas about art or life?

 I feel that it's more important now, for the next generation. Art is not about losing your boundaries, but it's about finding your boundaries. I was having a discussions with Christianne Dreeling, the Twirling Swirls lady the other day. We were talking about, she has two small kids, and how sometimes in art class they just let the kids kind of teach themselves. Like, find their own artist in them. And I think that's not the way to bring up an artist. You have to know how to do it right before you can go on your own path. And that's something that is in everything in our life. We have to learn it first before we can start making up the things that we want to do. We have to learn how to live before we can go live our lives. It's all a process. And being a mom, you have this little baby where . . . Our two year old is learning how to talk. I've never taught anybody how to talk. You have to think about all these things that you never thought you would have to think about. So you start learning that life really is just a series of processes, and how you have to put one foot in front of the other. And build these foundations. And I think that that's important in being an artist, in life, in being a mother, is going through the process and finding your own process.

 You lived overseas with your husband, you also lived in California working with a theatre company there. I was wondering what are your impressions of Ruston, after having spent time away?

 We chose to come back to Ruston for a few reasons. My husband's now in engineering, and it's one of the best engineering schools in the country. And I don't think either of us are big city people, but it's also important to have a university in the vicinity of where we live because of the energy that comes from young people and their ideas. You can feel the energy of the town. And I think that Ruston now, as opposed to Ruston ten years ago, even when I was in school here the first time, has so much more of that energy. And there's so much more that is happening downtown. And there's just like this, you can feel the energy underneath of all the artists that are here, and the photographers and the sculptors. You don't have to look quite as hard to find it as you used to. It's making its way up and out. And that's really exciting, to be in a town that you know is poised on this jump of growth and entertainment. That energy is exciting. Every day, just drive around, you can find something new to look at and say that's cool I don't remember that being here. Be it new restaurants, the Black Box, things like that. Galleries. Anybody who says you can't find anything to do in Ruston just isn't looking hard enough. Haha.

 Tell me what you have coming up at Stitchville, so far as classes or anything like that goes.

 I've recently put up my schedule of classes, which we've got the learn how to sew series, which I think we've got four or five projects. They're pretty simple, but with each project you learn a new skill set. I've got a sew for your home. Make you own clothes. And I've also got some kid sewing. A lot of kids are interested in it now as well. This weekend, I've got a kids class. We're doing owl pillows. That should be pretty cute. As far as knitting stuff goes, in the beginning of December, we are taking a trip that is open to anybody, up to Hot Springs Arkansas. They're having a Fiber Arts Extravaganza. There's going to be a lot of handspun arts and roving. It's two days. They've got classes, vendors. Fastest knitter competitions. It's fiber arts nerdilicious. We've got about four, maybe six, so far going. We're going to carpool and just go have a fun time. We're all excited about that. So we've got something for the sewers and something for the knitters coming up.

 I should mention you have Halloween and you have Fall fabric here.

 Yes, and my Christmas fabrics are on their way as well. I'd like to do some handmade Christmas type things if people are interested in making gifts to give. They can always get in touch with me on my website or call or drop by. And I'm open to any type of class. Because I don't have all the ideas. If somebody else has some idea they want to do and just need help doing it, that's what I'm here for.

 You and your husband are amateur brewers as well?

 Yes we are.

 Are you going to take part in ARToberfest?

 We are. We have brewed our brew, and I think we're bottling tonight or tomorrow. Whenever we've got time. We had a really good batch, but we drank it all. Haha. So we had to brew another batch for the competition. Luckily it's soon, so we won't have time to drink it all before the evening gets here. It's a fun time. That's another thing that a lot of people are doing. And we're going to have a pretty good competition. I'm looking forward to tasting the beers.

 I think that's all the questions I have. Thank you so much for speaking with me.

 Thank you very much.

NCLAC is supported in part by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Office of Cultural Development, Department of Culture, Recreation & Tourism, in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council, Funding has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, a Federal agency.

Educational Happenings: My Vision, My Voice

Making Art Reach Kids This Thursday, NCLAC will be bringing My Vision, My Voice to Arcadia High School. My Vision, My Voice is a photojournalism workshop that gives students a chance to view themselves and their community in a unique, personal way. Using words and a camera, the kids will learn to evaluate themselves and appreciate their surroundings.

The workshop is one of NCLAC’s MARK (Making Art Reach Kids) programs and supports our mission by fostering creative expression, and by giving students a chance to celebrate not just who they are, but who they can become. Scholarly research shows that students who participate in the Arts are more likely to exhibit leadership and community involvement, and to develop a confident, solid work ethic.

For the Arcadia High School workshop, NCLAC will be partnering with the 21st CenturyCommunity Learning CentersProgram. The 21st CCLC provides academic enrichment opportunities for students after school.

Self-portrait, Family/Friends, and Dreams

The program will be supervised by Jes Schrom, Assistant Professor of Art at Louisiana Tech University. Schrom is a dedicated educator with experience in both high school and collegiate education. Three of her Masters Candidates will teach the photography portions of the workshop, and an art and journalism senior will instruct the students on the writing assignments. The Louisiana Tech students who will be involved with the project are Ashley Feagin, Dan Snow, Caleb Clark, Jamie Johnson and Dacia Idom. Students will be assigned weekly projects exploring the themes of self-portrait, family and friends, and dreams.

The workshop will end with an exhibition and reception of the new work at the Woodard Room in Arcadia's First National Bank on November 3. The photographs and writings will be presented for students and their families to view, discuss and enjoy.

NCLAC is supported in part by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, Office of Cultural Development, Department of Culture, Recreation & Tourism, in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council. Funding has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts, a Federal agency.

Art Talk Monday: Magical Place Between

The photography of Jonathan Donehoo will be featured at 102: A Bistro October 5th through December 1st, in a solo exhibition called “Magical Place Between,” with an opening reception October 5th from 5:00 to 7:00 PM.. This exhibit is presented by the North Central Louisiana Arts Council in association with 102: A Bistro.  The artist, Jonathan Donehoo, is director of the School of Art at Louisiana Tech University, and has been at Tech for over 31 years. Before becoming director, Donehoo taught communication design at Louisiana Tech, and its influence is evident in his conception of art as a means to promote deep and wide exploration, through travel and through attention to detail and consideration of one's surroundings. This influence blends with the influence teaching has on his work to create pieces that motivate people to seek opportunities for learning and growth, abroad and in their own backyard. Donehoo explains, “I'm hoping they understand you don't have to go to Turkey to see this stuff. You can walk around Ruston and see this. You can walk around this building and see it. It's just a matter of looking at it in a certain light. A certain time of day. A certain way the wind is blowing. Just take advantage of that moment. But it doesn't have to be just exotic places. It can be right around you. Everyday life.”

 The son of Christian missionaries, Donehoo grew up abroad, in places like Colombia and Costa Rica. Constantly exposed to new languages and settings, he learned just how much there is to notice in what is, to a native, commonplace. That is perhaps the underlying premise that drives his work – noticing something more, finding magic in the details. According to Donehoo, that is the role of a visual artist. “That's what artists do,” says Donehoo, “We look at things. And part of our job is to see things other people do not see. Just as part of a musicians job is to hear things other people might not hear.”

 This show, “Magical Place Between”, will feature photographs taken during Jonathan Donehoo's travels abroad that explore the dynamic transitions between light and dark in architectural space. An avid traveler, Donehoo is drawn to architecture as immensely inspiring to experience in person yet the most challenging to photograph. Donehoo acknowledges “the impossibility of photographing architecture in a real sense, because architecture's three dimensional. It is an environment that you walk into, while photography is two dimensional, and you can look at as many pictures as you want to of something, but until you walk into that space, you don't really know what it's about.”

 By photographing an experience that is impossible to represent via photograph, Donehoo triggers the memories of viewers who have traveled to those places to reconstruct those experiences, while creating, through their mysterious and magical nature, a tension in those who have not visited that place, which can only be resolved through travel and exploration. To quote Art Professor Marie Bukowski, “Donehoo's photographs become memories and memoirs that allow the viewer to relate to the work through their own emotional connections.”

As works that speak to the necessity of broad and eclectic exploration to our quality of life, these photographs are especially suited to the space in which they will be exhibited. 102: A Bistro is a restaurant in which culture is celebrated broadly, with menu items such as sushi and Miso soup, and more locally, with lively interpretations of regional dishes such as jambalaya with shrimp and tomato jelly. The dialogue between these two culturally diverse entities – Jonathan Donehoo, who grew up in South America and travels extensively in Europe, and 102: A Bistro, with its Asian and Creole inspirations, is bound to be rich and rewarding for any viewer.

 As the director of the school of art, and a long time Ruston resident, Donehoo has created a body of work that by its nature explores Ruston's place in the global community, or more to the point, the global community's place in Ruston, in the lives and culture of its residents.

 At the opening of “Magical Place Between”, hors d'ourves will be served, and while at 102: A Bistro, attendees are encouraged to eat a meal, have some wine, and take in the full range of cultural experiences this show has to offer. And as Donehoo says, really look (and taste) and notice the magic that is here in Ruston.

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Jonathan Donehoo, designer, photographer, and Director of the School of Art at Louisiana Tech University. You can see Jonathan's work at 102: A Bistro at the solo exhibition "Magical Place Between", opening October 5th at 5pm. This interview has been edited for length.

[wpvideo c3PgAkPf]

 Do you think that the purpose of the photographs as a record of your experiences, and to reactivate your memory of them, do you think that comes through in the photographs?

 It does to me. Because there's not a photograph I have that I can't say exactly where that is. I know the date. What it was like. I remember seeing that and going that was really neat. And you try to share that with others. But if they've not been there, it's just another chair. Just another tree. I guess that comes with traveling and experiencing things firsthand. When I was an undergraduate taking art history, and I'd sit in Renaissance history. It'd be cathedral this, and cathedral that. And they all looked the same. And then when I went there and started actually seeing them firsthand, they are not alike. Suddenly all of that made sense, you know. They were very distinct in their own way. But just looking at slide after slide of one baroque basilica after another, they all look the same. I guess it depends on your interests. It depends on that you've been able to experience it. That's why as a program we go to France in the spring with as many students as we can drag with us. And I think that experience firsthand is so important. And I think the faculty agree and put such a high value on travel, on the experience of travel and the education of travel. I wish we had deep pockets so we could just take everybody over there. Unfortunately we don't. But there's something about seeing it firsthand, experiencing it firsthand. It comes across in some of the pictures. But to me, the pictures mean lots of different things, but a little token of something that happened to me at one time is certainly part of that. As I said, I look at it and I know exactly what that was and what was going on. What was going on behind me, things like that. But that's my own personal worth in them. Other people looking at them certainly would not experience that because they weren't there. What they are taking away from the photograph may be something entirely different. I don't know.

 It seems as if the subject matter of your photography is often architectural. Why do you think that is?

 I think it has to do with space. Space and also the fact that I'm still very uncomfortable taking pictures of people I don't know. It seems like invading their privacy, and I should not be taking pictures of people. I'm not sure I like having my picture taken, especially by people I don't know. So I'm a little self-conscious about that. And you'll notice my pictures, very few of them have people in them. But I think architecture's a wonderful container for that light and dark that I'm interested in. You can do some out in nature, but architecture's just set up for that. An open door into a dark room and things like that. That little transition there. But I've always enjoyed architecture. And maybe it is the impossibility of photographing architecture in a real sense. Because architecture's three dimensional. It is an environment that you walk into. While a photograph is two dimensional, and you can look at as many pictures as you want to of something, but until you walk into that space, you don't really know what it's about. And I think the best example of that would be the Pantheon in Rome. Every art student has studied this. They've seen slides of it, in out around. But until you walk into that space for the first time and just feel that physical lifting that you get just by walking in there, it's just hard to describe that to anyone. So maybe it's just a vain attempt at capturing some little aspect of that.

 While I was preparing for this interview, I was reading your artist statement and bio. I was interested in what you said earlier about the attention to detail in small neighborhoods in Paris. And also, I noticed that as a grad student, you taught beginning and advanced typography. I thought there might be a congruency there. Even when you think about the play with light and dark – light and shadow and you can compare that even to typography, the white and the black.

 I love typography. I always have. I'd love to be better at it. And I don't know where the love of typography comes from. As an undergraduate at the University of Georgia, I had some renowned typographers as teachers. I don't know if they instilled that in me or not, but they helped me see that typography makes a difference. And it's about communication, and that's what type does. It's not about just the shape of a letter. It's how does this shape of a letter and all of the others combine to communicate an idea or a history or some story that people have. And I remember talking to freshman type students and saying typography in a way is like breathing. You use it everyday, you just don't think about it. When it's done correctly, you'll never notice. When it's done incorrectly, then you start noticing because you can't read it smoothly. I think it has a lot to do with communication, and that may come from the fact that I did not grow up in the United States. I was raised in other parts of the world. Communication and other languages was always, for me it was not a big struggle, but I know from my parents it always was. Because you had to learn a new language. So this whole idea of communication. Either visually through photographs. Or through type. Or story-telling, or anything else. All of this I think plays in that. How do you get your feelings, your ideas, your stories across.

 It even seems as if there's an aspect to typography and even the languages, of maybe noticing things that other people don't notice.

 That's just it. Even if you're here in Louisiana, and you've been here a lot of years, things that you become accustomed to, some people coming in from another part of the country, some are surprised or taken aback by something. I remember one time, we lived in a rather large city in South America. And it was not uncommon to have cattle grazing in the neighborhood. Or carts being pulled by Oxen, or something like that. Which, after a while you didn't notice at all. But when people would come to visit, they were just stunned to see cows eating in our front yard. And I remember hearing my father telling people who moved to these places for the first time, you need to take you pictures within the first six months. Because after that you won't even notice that this is unusual. I tell the young faculty that move here from out of state that they should take advantage of those first few years to really explore Louisiana. Go into Arcadiana and stuff, and just explore that because it is so unique. Later on, you just take it for granted. And that's a shame. But I guess that's human nature. You become accustomed to whatever it is around you, good or bad.

 What's the payoff of noticing those things?

 I think it adds a whole new depth to your existence. I would hate to live in just a white room with cheap paneling or something. I guess you get used to that. But it's in the details. It is there, and paying attention to it or just glossing over it. I guess everybody's interests would be in different details. I'm sure if an engineer came in and looked at something, the details they would notice would be different than the details I would notice. I guess it's up to you to do that. As teachers, what I think we try to do is make sure our students are aware that the details are there. Look at it. What are you seeing? I think that's what an artist is. We look at things. We see these things. And part of our job is to help others see these things. A musician hears things. We all hear things, but they hear things maybe we don't. And we see things maybe they don't.

 Why did you move so much as a child?

 My parents moved a lot.

 For work?

 Yes. My parents were foreign missionaries. So we went all over. And it was certainly a different way of growing up. Haha.

 What were some of the most interesting places you lived?

 Well I think everyplace is interesting. Even Ruston is interesting. But as far as being exotic or strange, I grew up in Columbia. I was in Costa Rica. All over.

 Do you think your childhood, your immersion in missionary work and Christianity, do you think that's influenced your life as an artist in any way?

 Probably not in the way people would hope. Haha. No, I think there's probably something in there. There's a part of my life that I consider to be very private. Maybe it was the way I was brought up. I'm somewhat suspicious of those that tend to wave things around a lot. I am suspicious of people who stand on the street corner and pound their chest and things like that. That's just not the way I was brought up. So I think my parents did instill in me certainly a sense of right and wrong, and a sense that especially as an American who has this comparatively great privilege in this world, that for real happiness, you have to somehow return some of that. It's not about more and more. It's about how do you help others get to a certain point. And I look at my siblings, and none of us went into the ministry, but I have one sister who's a teacher. I have one sister who's in medicine. And I have another brother who was in the military. But all of us in some way interpret what we do as giving back. I think we know there are certainly more lucrative jobs than higher education. But it's not about that. What effect do you have on other people's lives in a positive way? And maybe that's what you learn from being raised that way.

 Obviously as director of the school of art you have a positive effect on people's lives. What are your thoughts about the effect your art might have on people's lives.

 Well I hope I do a good job as an administrator. Maybe I just have a certain sickness for filling out forms. Haha. Because I do fill out a lot of paperwork that I don't think most people could stand. But it's just part of the job. And I hope what I do allows others, the teachers to spend more time working on what they do well. But as far as what I would like people to look at photographs, and first of all the people who have been able to travel. They see a picture of something and 'oh I remember things like that.' Bring back those hopefully pleasant memories. Those who have not had a chance to travel maybe go 'you know, maybe I need to go see that. I need to go out and look.' But I'm hoping they understand you don't have to go to Turkey to see this stuff. You can walk around Ruston and see this. You can walk around this building and see it. It's just a matter of looking at it in a certain light. A certain time of day. A certain way the wind is blowing. Just take advantage of that moment. But it doesn't have to be just exotic places. It can be right around you. Everyday life. I walk around the backyard and see things. You hope to just get people to start thinking in a visual sort of way, a creative way. What's different about that.

 I think you're probably at this point the person in the art department that students get to spend the least time with. I'd like to ask a few personal questions.

 Sure. I would say I do hate that. I do miss being in the classroom. Of course, I started teaching when I was very young. I was as old as my students. I was twenty-three. I had five graduate students. They were all older than I was. That was strange. So I grew up with them. They were friends. I've been best man. I'm godfather to their kids. It's just great they still think of me that way. But as I get older, there is that gap, and as I became the director, there's just not enough time to have all the classes I used to. I'm doing all this other stuff. As a director, in a way, I also become the ambassador for the program. It's funny when I meet students and I don't know them but I know their grandparents, or their parents. But I try to be a good voice for the program in my own way. So I've evolved out of one thing and into another. But I do miss that relationship that a teacher has with their students. I get a little bit of it sometimes with student workers in the office, but I do miss it. I recognize a lot of names more than I do faces. What questions do you have?

 Do you have any hobbies?

 I like to cook. Well, I like to eat. Haha. And I figured out a long time ago that if I like to eat, I would have to learn how to cook. I enjoy baking bread. I'm now experimenting with making cheese, artisanal cheeses. It remains to be seen how that's doing. And I do enjoy traveling a lot. I like to see things I've never seen. I like to experience things I've never experienced. I like to read. Nothing too exotic, I don't think. I'm just pretty normal.

 I think it might not be too much of a stretch to say you're an introverted person?

 Oh yeah, that's not a stretch at all.

 I was wondering how that affects working in such a social and communicative field.

 I think it goes back to the way I was brought up. My father is very much like I am. We're very quiet. We're slow to get to know. But my mother was very outgoing. Very social. She came from a very social family in Georgia. The two of them made a great pair. Between the two of them they would lick the platter clean. But I grew up in a social environment. My parents, even though they were missionaries, did a lot of entertaining because of the nature of their work. So I knew what they did and didn't do. So even though I'm not terribly comfortable in those situations, I do know how to do it. And I can do it. And I can bang my way through it. Just what we're doing now is not comfortable. But I've done it before, and I will be doing more things like this in the near future that I'm still lying awake at night about. But it's just part of the job. It goes with the territory. As the director of the school, I speak for the school sometimes. And you just have to put yourself out there, and just overcome that. You do it once, you do it twice, and it gets a little easier. I don't know that it ever becomes comfortable. You hope you don't fumble the ball. I'm afraid of heights. It scares me to death. And my father always taught me when I was young you just have to face your fears. You go do it. So there's not much in Europe I have not been on top of. Once. Haha. I go up there, and I do it, and I get back down off of, you know, the bell tower in Florence. I remember climbing that thing. It was awful. But I did it. I have no desire to ever do it again. You name a building, and I have been on top of it. And it is amazing. I still am afraid of heights. But you face your fears. And life is full of fears. Heights. Public speaking. Taking chances. Whatever it is. And either you can let that control you, and you can just not do it, or you can just take a deep breath and jump out there. I read something, and I'm trying to figure out how to weave this into something to share with students. In times of great stress in a person's life, where the odds are just impossible, you just don't know what you're going to do, you can either turn around and hide, or you can spread your wings and fly like an eagle. It's up to you. You can say no I can't do it, or you can say I'm going to just jump off and try it. And you'd be surprised. You fall sometimes, but if you turn around you know you're not going to do it. Take a deep breath and jump. People have done it for thousands of years. So you just have to take a little faith in yourself and jump.

 Let's conclude by talking a little more about your photography. Tell me about the technical aspects. Do you use digital or analog?

 Both. Honestly though, the last couple years it's all been digital. I remember the first time in the dark room, you put that exposure paper in the developer, and you look at it in the red light. And it's like magic. All of a sudden it appears. And you're going 'that's amazing.' You just get hooked on that. There's something about that process of being in the dark room. And that magic that takes place. But nowadays, and it's good and bad, digital allows you to make changes and alterations in a photograph or an image that you could not do in a darkroom. You could not dodge and burn that well. I think one of the big differences too is, when I was doing just film, I would go someplace, I'd come back and I'd have fifteen rolls of film. And I'd develop it all and process it. But you knew that you had to carefully compose in the camera. You had to think about what you were doing. You had to get the right settings. And so in that sense, it was like a rifle shot, as opposed to now in digital, you go click click click about thirty times and hope that one of them turns out. It's a much more shotgun approach. I still love analog. I still love film. But the reality is you're doing digital now, that's just what you do. And there are things in digital, there's just no way you could do that in analog. And some of the pieces I may or may not put into this show are panoramic pictures, where I took seven or eight pictures and wove them together into one bigger picture. I don't know how you could do that in the darkroom, and not have it obvious what you were doing. It's like anything else. You have a nostalgia for the old, but you still appreciate whatever the new part is.

 Most of your pictures are black and white, and some are color. Could you tell me about the reasons behind your decision?

 Part of it goes back to my first photography class as an undergraduate. I remember my teacher saying 'if it's not working in black and white, odds are color's not going to help it.' You cannot use color as an excuse for a bad picture. So you think about it in black and white. And I guess that's what I did until I started doing a lot of digital work, it was all black and white. And even now I'm surprised how monochromatic my work is. You look at it, even though it may be brown, it's still brown and white. Haha. Sometimes, there's these magic times, like there's this one piece that has color in it because of the sunset that made the whole thing magical. But most of my work is in fact black and white. And I think in this particular show there's a few pieces in color but most of it's black and white. Again, if color's important, I'll put color in it. But most of the time, color's not really what it's about.

 I think that's all the questions I have.

 Ok. You know, I appreciate the opportunity to share this with you. I very very rarely talk about myself or my work, so this is pretty unique.

 Yeah, I really enjoyed it.

 Well I appreciate you doing it.

 Thank you.

Q&Art with Russell Pirkle

This week: Ed Pinkston, who has a show opening tonight (Thursday September 22) at Gallery Fine Art Center in Bossier, with an art talk at 5:30. [wpvideo 7TwXkrwL]

One of the other abiding influences in my work is man-made versus nature, or freedom versus control. Societal issues that we face, laws and regulations. Where you can ride your bike and where you can't. Can you ride at night. Versus childlike freedoms that we all enjoy, especially in this country. A lot of my work is about that, so the way my work begins is it starts out very childlike and spontaneous, and I do the large broad issues in literally broad paint applications with brushes or squeegies or scrapers. And I use a lot of combinations. So I start out with this sense of freedom in my pieces, and then as I go on, I start to constrain or confine and refine them somewhat. And they develop more man-made like rectalinear elements like squares or straight line passages. So I like to have a duality between freedom and control. And in some pieces, the fulcrum is more under one end than the other. Some pieces will have a lot more spontaneity in them. Others will be more sober and controlled. Of course, in art publications, one of the main ways they talk about this is Apollo and Dionysius. The idea of the sober good god versus the party Bacchus god. I always try to keep that dichotomy in mind, and I try to juggle those two and make them reconcile. And that's where my fun comes in is playing off those two extremes against each other and seeing what happens.

Yeah, it seems like the sort of abstract expressionism that you're working from is a really good way to deal with those questions about freedom and self-determination.

I've been greatly influenced by abstract expressionism, but mine are not wholly that. A piece like mine might look a little bit like a Hans Hoffman, but it still has more constraints and more rigidity in it than his pieces did.

It almost seems as if you move through the abstract expressionism in the beginning and start to become more representational with the shapes and lines and things.

That's fair. And sometimes those rectangular shapes are windows and sometimes they aren't. Sometimes they open up a space, and sometimes they're 'don't go there. Stop there.' And that's the way Hans Hoffman used them too. Sometimes they would be a window into the depth of the painting, and other times they would be a confrontational thing that said 'no, you're not going there. You're not going back in space. This is not a landscape.' So sometimes if I see something getting too spatial, I'll do something like that to bring us back up to the picture plane and say 'Whoa, this is all illusion. It's all flat stuff for the most part.'

I read in your statement you used to do figurative and landscape painting. What caused you to move from that to non-representational work?

I don't know. I have always given myself permission to change my stripes. I'm not one of those artists whose work evolves very little over time, maybe just gets better in quality but they do the same basic painting over and over. Or maybe their work gets more expressive or gets bigger or whatever. But I seem to go through cycles of seven or ten years' work. In graduate school, I started out doing abstract expressionism, then I went to hard-edge abstraction. And then when I got out of graduate school, I did abstraction again for a while. Then finally I said I need to get back to realism, that's what I'm teaching in my classes. My drawing classes are all about learning to see. You know, perceptual experiences. Let's get back to that. So I went back to doing drawings and landscapes with charcoal and pencil. And then I decided I wanted to get back to color again, but I didn't want to go back to being a full blown abstract expressionist so I went to pastels. I don't have many pastels to show you. In fact, this one's sold, but this was one of them. After I went to abstraction and things like that, I wanted to come backt o more realistic experience with color. And I said well, pastel would be a good way to do that. I'd never worked with pastels, and I didn't realize how tremendous they were. Not for just bringing out a color experience, but also just for markmaking properties. 'Cause I've taught drawing for so many years and taught a lot with charcoal. I was kind of naïve and slow to realize 'Hey, pastel is just charcoal in color. I can make the same kind of expressive marks. I can break the color surface up into local color. I can break that local color down into broken color. I can do all kinds of things with it. To answer your question, I just don't ever like to be bored. I like to keep going. There is a common thread to my work, but as I shift experiences, some other people have had difficulty seeing that. And then after I did these for a while, I did pastel landscapes and still-lifes. And even abstract pastels for some time. I did those for about ten or twelve years. I had a retrospective at Tech somewhere around 2000, and looking at that show on a whole, there was so much pastel work in it. I said 'I want to get back to painting again. I want to get back to that viscosity and that liquid feel.' And it was just that simple. I just wanted to go back to a more temporal kind of liquid idea, and so I stopped doing the pastels and started doing abstract painting again for the first time in many years. And it was very difficult at first. I don't know if you've done any abstract work yourself. Do you ever do any? But you work without a net, you know. You've got no subject matter to refer to. You've got nothing to bail you out. It's just you and what you know about the principles and elements and things you want to express with them. And I had a real tough time for a couple years when I went back to abstract painting. I just said I can't do this. I'm no good. And I really struggled. But after a while, I slowly started making some gains and feeling like 'well yeah, ok.' Part of my problem wasn't just me, it was my materials. I have never in an enclosed space like this, even using odorless mineral spirits, I've never been able to work with oil paints. I'm very hypocritical: I always made my students use oil paints whenever I taught painting at Tech, we always used oil paints because of the slow drying time and the ability to intermix and rework and things like that. Oil painting's far superior to acrylic. But my head just can't take it. So I've had to use acrylics all these years. And that's a tremendous limitation because of the fast drying time. You don't get that opportunity to rework. At first, trying to do abstraction with acrylic paint, it's tough. But after a time, I started learning how to work with it, and I can use retardants to get a longer drying time where I can go back and rework. But also I just learned how to make my spontaneity work. So the acrylic made me speed up. It made me more spontaneous, because the clock is ticking. And I had to work with it very rapidly. That was part of my struggle. I was part of the problem, but my materials were part of the problem too. But after I got more back into it, both of those sides started to come around, and I started to see results.

I think that's something about abstract art that people who say they don't get it aren't seeing is that rich narrative of the process that's in there. Oftentimes it conveys at least as much meaning as a representational work if not more.

I love to hear you say that. That is exactly right. Abstract painting has its own studio autobiography. It can be just as rich in historical experience or personal experience as any pictoral piece can. Whenever I've been in any kind of group and people have asked me 'what's the best way to understand or explain abstract expressionism?' I've said part of the trouble is people worry about understanding it. I used the analogy of music. Listening to a melody is abstract. There's no lyrics there like a country song. It's like opera, where you don't understand the language. I could listen to an aria in Italian and probably enjoy it more than if I understood Italian, because they might be saying 'I went down to the store, bought a loaf of bread.' Well that's so pedestrian and everything. So the abstractness of music, it's the same kind of thing in the visual arts. You have to enjoy it on that level, just for what it is. And you don't have to read interpretations into it. You can, but you don't have to. So many people feel like they have to understand abstract painting, and I say you just open your eyes. Just like you open your ears to music. One time, when I was in front of a woman's group, and they weren't getting it. I had a real good friend in the audience, and I knew it wouldn't embarrass her. A very nice looking lady who was very well dressed. I said if you wouldn't mind come up here and stand for a moment. And she came and stood beside me. And I said now, what did you do this morning when you got dressed? You made the decision to put this skirt with this blouse. To put this piece of jewelry here. These earrings. You were doing abstract art. You were making decisions about color, line, shape, form, texture. All the things an abstract artist does, you do it every morning. And they said “Oh!” That really broke the ice for them.

I guess one thing about abstract art is, in a lot of ways you have to avoid meaning. You have to avoid representation in order to be non-representational. That has a sort of tyranny to itself, you know?

Absolutely. That's why I fight the spatial issues so hard, because I know any time I do a lot of overlaps, I'm going to start to get a landscape read out of the piece which I probably don't want. Sometimes I go ahead and give in to it and let it go that way. I give myself permission to let realism creep in or pictorial space creep in sometimes. But for the most part, I try to keep it on an abstract plane because of this very pitfall you mention. And you don't want it to lapse too easily back into conventional that's a landscape, that's a still life, that's whatever. I do my best work when I really keep my thinking on abstract and don't let them become to spatial or spatially illusionistic.

Let me ask you about yourself, as an artist who's worked for multiple decades, how do you keep from becoming stagnant and from imitating yourself? And on the other side of that coin, how do you keep from abandoning all the things that you've done before and the progress you've made?

Those are good questions. And they're not easily answered. But I think you know part of the answer is what I do is I change materials and approaches, and that keeps me fresh. On a singular level of individual painting basis, I try to do what Diebenkorn said he used to do. They said how do you begin a new painting? He said 'I begin a new painting as far away from the last painting as I can, because I know what's going to happen as I work. I'm going to gravitate back to what I've done before, to what I am, what I know and all the experience I have.' And he said if you don't you'll wind up repeating yourself. That's what would surprise people a lot of times about artists. This is what drives artists crazy about art historians. Art historians will say 'this must have come from 1892 because it's painted just like this one over here.' No. Maybe that's true, but many times artists will leap back in time as well as leap forward. And a lot of times my paintings are done at the same time and have very little correlation, and that's deliberate. People say these two magenta paintings down here must have been painted at the same time. No, they were painted several years apart actually. What I try to do is the same thing Diebenkorn did. Whenever I started a new painting, I used different materials, different techniques. If I painted real thickly with brushes on the last one, I'll start with glazes on the next one. I'll use scrapers instead of brushes, or something like that. I'll use a very different palette to begin with. I don't usually put down a dominant palette colore first. That just happens. So whatever dominant palette color resulted in the last one, by god it's not going to be in the new one. It's going to start in some place totally elsewhere. And that's why my paints are not organized. In some artists' studios, every paint is perfectly lined up and organized, and they know exactly where everything is. I keep my paints moving around and disorganized to keep me disorganized, to keep me fresh so that I don't revert back, hopefully, too much too soon to what I already know and the methods and techniques and things I know have worked in the past. This color relationship worked with this color relationship last time, let's use it again. No, I don't do that. I try to go to another part of the palette, start with some funky color over here and say what if. So it's just like a child will. I try to put myself in a childlike mode and say let's just try. What if. And then you go from there. Waste a lot of paint. Waste a lot of time. But that's the only way to go. That's the frustration of working abstractly, but it's also the joy. It takes you places that you can't preordain. Some people say do you have any kind of image in your head when you start painting? I hope not! When I'm doing this, absolutely not. Evenwhen I was doing these, I did about forty or fifty of these pastel still lifes. Only two of them were done from life. All the others were made up. You might say well I can tell that from the end result. Haha. But I deliberately tried not to put too much form on my apples or tomatos or whatever I'm using. To stay fresh, I've gotta change. I've gotta evolve, and I've constantly gotta challenge myself and surprise myself to keep from getting into stereotypes.

What happens prior to the beginning of the painting? Is there any sort of planning stage, or do you think there is any subconscious work that goes on?

There must be. You know, you can't ever relax the subconscious. There must be something going on. But I try to avoid that. Sometimes I will have a strong idea I want to try, but who knows where it comes from. It might be just an abstract pattern I saw on a wall in downtown Ruston or something. Or sometimes I say what if I try that color with that color? What will happen? But of course it never turns out that way. Matisse had a good way of expressing that, and you may have heard this story before. They asked him the same question you asked me. When you begin a painting, how does it begin? He says let's just say sometimes I have a real strong idea what I want a painting to be, but it's like I've got a train ticket from Paris to Marseilles. And he says sometimes you get on that train, painting, and sometimes you make it to marseilles just fine and it's turned out just the way you planned it. But more often, before I get to Marseilles, I find I want to take another train. I divert off. Or sometimes, I get to Marseilles, and I realize I don't want to go to Marseilles and I keep going past. That's the way I think about it too. Okay, I may start out with a strong idea that's going to take me to Marseilles. I may get there. I may get there and not like it. Or I may never get there. And all of those are fine.

 I think one thing that most people and probably a lot of artists don't realize too is so often the meaning comes after the work. After you finish making the work, you then think okay, what does this piece mean? What was I actually thinking and trying to do?

That happens all the time. I think it's very common. Art is usually poorly served if you start out with too much meaning. Occasionally we'll get a painting where an artist is really passionate about an idea. Like, say Picasso's Guernica after the bombing in Spain. It turned out to be a good painting. It was a dramatic, forceful editorial, but it was also a dramatic, forceful piece of artwork. A lot of times, when you take that on your shoulders at the very beginning, a load of meaning, it can weigh you down and overrule you. We see that a lot with some of the muralists. The idea would get in the way of a good paintings. Deigo Rivera, people like that were great painters, but their painting would be so weighted down with the monumentality. I'm going to express this about the world's state of affairs. You lose your sense of optics. I don't worry too much about meaning. I know what they mean to me, and what I see in them. But I love it when other people have alternate interpretations of what they mean. And that's where they should be I think. And that should be true of realistic painting as well as abstract painting, whether you use recognizable imagery or not. I like the idea of meaning coming after the fact. People worry, especially in today's culture. You've run into this in school I'm sure. Now it's become very prevalent and very important for an artist to find his voice. For him to be able to articulate verbally what his work is about. Well that, just between you and me, that's all well and good. It's nice if an artist is verbally articulate. What I want is a visually articulate artist. If an artist is articulate enough visually, he doesn't have to open his mouth. I don't need for Cezanne to tell me one thing verbally. Or Matisse. Or Diebenkorn. It's all there. It's visual, not verbal art. We're getting a lot more blurring of that and overlapping in art, with video and god knows what else going on. So many cross-disciplined kinds of art made now. But just talking about a one on one kind of experience of you with the painting or piece of sculpture. If the artist is visually articulate, that's all I need. The meaning will come through from that.

Could you tell me about your process of making a work? When do you like to work? Do you like to listen to music?

I always listen to music. I've gotta have music going. Sometimes the music is a direct influence and many times a subconscious influence as well. So I'm always listening to music. Just like changing my approach and my palette, whenever I start a new painting, I go to a different music. Just to see where that takes me, how it influences me. When do I work? I work best early. I don't work well at night at all. When I was younger I could. But I'm an old man now. And I can't do that. What I do is I have a daily routine. I get up and I go for a two and a half mile walk around the neighborhood. I come back and eat breakfast and I come down here. And that's where I do my best work when my mind and body are really fresh. I literally can't wait to get down here in the morning because I know that's when I'll do my best work. And then as the day goes on, it'll tend to be diminishing returns, or it'll go in waves like that. If you charted it, I'd say in the AM hours I do my best work. But I take breaks too. That's the great thing about having my studio at home. I used to have my studio at Tech. I found out after my teaching duties and administrative duties and committee work and all that was out of the way, I would have to have a big chunk of time before I would go to my studio. Here I don't have to have those big chunks of time. When I moved my studio here, I was amazed how much more work I got done. Because, you know sometimes I could just come down and work for ten minutes. But a lot of times what you'd do is you'd come down and just look for ten minutes. And that's just invaluable. And then you'd go out and do something else. A lot of times I go out and walk in the yard. Especially when I'm struggling with a painting. I always work on that wall, and I can go walk around the yard and eventually I'll wander over to this window and look at the painting from out in the yard out there. And by diminishing it not only in size but also it diminishes it psychologically. I look in the window at that little painting over there from the difference and I say 'what's your problem? Why can't you fix that? What are you afraid of?' I love the in-between times, the broken times, the casual times, that you get when you have your studio at home. My productivity when I'm in my studio at home, boy did it go through the roof. I didn't realize how important those little snippets of time were. One of my favorite stories. Diebenkorn always had his studio separate from his house. He got off in the morning, and he'd come home in the evening. And his wife would say how'd it go dear? He never talked much. He came home one day in abject depression, and she said what is it? And he says I can't paint. It's the worst painting I've ever done. It's terrible. Just terrible. He had a drink, and she commiserated him. And then the next day he gets up and goes back to the studio. And then in the evening he comes back home, and she says 'how'd it go today dear?' He says well, I just sat and looked at it all day, I think it's the best thing I've ever done. Hahaha. Sometimes it's a little something about perspectives. That's what I like about having my studio at home. I can walk away and give my mind and spirit time to refocus and regain my objectivity, whatever that is. So that's what the little journeys I take are meant for, getting away from it, and coming back and seeing it afresh and deciding it's the best thing I've ever done or the worst thing I've ever done. The hardest thing about coming in first thing in the morning is that you have to guage your objectivity. You've been away for many hours. So when I come back in the morning, I can always look at what I'm working on and know whether it's any good or not. So I come down with great anticipation but also a feeling of dread because I know that my objectivity is returned and I'm going to be very critical. And I'm going to say, what were you thinking? That's a piece of crap! I can't believe you liked that yesterday at five o'clock. Or what's really nice but maybe doesn't happen as often is oh! I still like it. If I like it when I come down the next day, that's a good sign.

How often do you work?

Everyday. I was administrator for twenty years, graduate coordinator for twenty years. I always taught a full teaching load. I always taught freshmen. I always taught drawing. Teaching freshman drawing is one of the most demanding courses on the curriculum. It never kept me out of the studio. I don't think I'm a particularly gifted artist. I'm a hard-working, consistent artist. I'm a bulldog. And I still enjoy it immensely, I don't know what I'd do without it.

I know that interpretation is a tenuous and subjective topic, but what advice might you have for how someone should approach your paintings if they want to get a deeper understanding of them?

Just stand back and look. And then look some more. You don't have to ask any deep, penetrating questions. Just look really, really hard. And do what I do sometimes, use a mirror. I've walked many a mile in this studio. The main thing is to get back far enough. Even my smaller work, I judge them from back here. And then I use a mirror all the time to see them backwards, upside down, diagonal on this edge. Anything that helps me see it afresh. For an audience, someone looking at my work, I would just say walk a lot. Stand back a lot. If you don't see anything there, move on to something else. Come back again later. You have to be tenacious and be a bulldog as a viewer to get it too. I would just tell people stand back and do a lot of looking. You don't have to ask a lot of questions. You can if you want to. Just look. People don't have enough confidence in their eyes. Like I said before, it's no different than music. If you enjoy a melody, you know you enjoy it. If you enjoy something visual, you know it. I can try to figure out why I like Mozart, but I don't have to.

I think that's all the questions I have. It was a pleasure speaking with you.

I'm glad you came over. I'm glad to get to know you better.