Lee Bontecou

One of my absolute favorite artists of all time is Lee Bontecou. There are many reasons why I am inspired by and respect her art and career. I am enticed by her experimental use of materials and ways of making.  She created work in a wide variety of mediums, ranging from: welded steel, canvas and wire sculptures to graphite or soot drawings on paper or muslin to vacuum formed plastic sculptures. Some of her other mediums include colored pencil, charcoal, leather, epoxy, silk, wood, casein, porcelain, and Plexiglas.

She espoused no singular method of working, and she erased some of the boundaries between sculpture and painting/drawing. Her drawings create worlds that invite the viewer in, making them as sculptural as her 3-dimensional work, and her immense sculptures were mounted to the wall in the presentational style of paintings.  I am moved on a visceral level by the power of these immense sculptural images. Their black voids conjure up spaces in the psyche in which to, in Bontecou’s words, “glimpse some of the fear, hope, ugliness, beauty and mystery that exist in all of us…”

Lee Bontecou, Untitled, 1960

She has created her own language and iconography within her vast body of work, and she refuses to limit its interpretation. Critics and historians have classified her work as: feminist, minimalist, post-minimalist, latter-day surreal, futurist, and arte povera. Regardless of the interpretations and readings of her work, of her own work, Bontecou said that she intended to encompass “as much of life as possible – no barriers – no boundaries – all freedom in every sense.” And, in this statement, I sense a kindred spirit.

Lee Bontecou was born in 1931 in Providence, RI and raised in New York. She attended Bradford College in Massachusetts and the Art Students League in New York from 1952–55 where she studied sculpture under William Zorach. In 1954, she attended the Skowhegan School in Maine. She received a Fulbright to study in Rome in 1957–1958. She began exhibiting her work in Italy in 1957 and found great success in her art career during the 60s, exhibiting at the Sao Paolo Bienal, The Museum of Modern Art New York, The Corcoran Biennial, in Washington, DC, the Pasadena Art Museum in California, the Galerie Ileana Sonnabend in Paris, and various museums throughout Germany. In 1972, an exhibit of her sculpture and drawings was presented at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. A few years after that, she left New York and moved to Pennsylvania and began teaching.

Lee Bontecou

Her work was extremely experimental and highly original. She produced work that was unlike any other work being shown at that time. It would have been easy for her to pigeon-hole herself in the art of her success – in the type of work that made her successful and popular – but she didn’t stop with what worked. She continued to explore new mediums and new ways of creating things.

She divorced the art world as an exhibiting artist for almost 30 years, ignoring or declining invitations to show her work. In 2003, a retrospective of her work, which included the art she made during her decades-long retreat from the public, was organized by the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles and the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. I was fortunate to see this show. This exhibit also traveled to the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 2004. At 81 years old, she continues to create and exhibit. Her work was recently shown at Freedman Art in New York, October 2011-February 2012.

I end with a quote from Daniel Baird’s 2004 article in The Brooklyn Rail, “Lee Bontecou: A Retrospective.” He states:

“Bontecou’s work has always been richly allusive, but it is also opaque and difficult to co-opt… It is telling that for more than forty years, Bontecou has resisted genre boundaries and art world ideologies. In an art world still struggling to balance conceptual depth with intuitive sensual immediacy, Bontecou’s career should serve as a model.”

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ARC Gallery

Re/Invention Exhibition flyer, ARC Gallery

 
This past summer, I was voted in as a member artist of ARC Gallery. ARC is a women’s cooperative gallery that has been in existence since 1973, formed during the women’s movement as an alternative to mainstream galleries and in support of professional and emerging women artists. The gallery is completely member-run, from installing and de-installing shows to marketing and finances. Members pay monthly dues towards operational costs. The gallery also receives some grant funding.

Some of the benefits of being a member of ARC gallery include: being part of an artist community with opportunities to exchange ideas and resources; a solo exhibition within 18-24 months of joining the gallery; and participation in the annual members’ show.

 

I am the maple leaf, the cypress tree… by Monica J. Brown, 2012

ARC’s Annual Members Exhibition “BLOX” is on display now through November 3, 2012. The opening reception was on Friday, October 12 from 6-9pm, and it was well attended. This exhibit showcases the work of current and affiliate members. The work created for this exhibition focuses on constructing art works as a sum of parts. My work is represented in this show, and I presented a poetry performance at the opening reception in conjunction with my work. (Click here to see more of my visual art.)

ARC has been housed in several locations in Chicago during its nearly 40 years in existence. Currently, the gallery is located at 2156 N. Damen in a lovely storefront location. “Come see our new space in Bucktown and learn about what we have achieved through 40 years of women working together.” The gallery is open Wednesday–Saturday from 12pm–6pm and Sunday from 12pm–4pm.

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Sankofa

I recently read an excerpt from Roland Barthes’ Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. In this excerpt, he discusses the idea of an “air” in photography, something captured in the image of a face “that exorbitant thing which induces from body to soul.” This idea, I believe, is what attracts me to old photographs, even of people who I do not know. These photos have always held for me a type of magic that is capable of preserving a moment in time, able to concretize the idea that “this-has-been.”

Now that I have been introduced to an eloquently formulated concept of this captured “air,” I believe that this is the quality that arouses my interest in studying these old photos. It is not just a moment in time that has been captured, but the essence of that moment held within the “air” of the person pictured. I think that is magic.

I have a small collection of photos of my maternal grandmothers, going back several generations, which definitely carry this essence. I have been studying these images to uncover the stories that are held within them. If these images do truly reveal the essence of the women presented in them, then I believe that the stories of these women can be un/dis/covered through those photos. I am currently working to unearth these stories and bring them to life through words, sounds and images.

Grandma Ora

Perhaps a deeper revelation could be gleaned through the conscious recognition of what Barthes refers to as the punctum (poignant detail) which reveals itself in these photos. Because these pictures are personal to me, that detail may very well be held within my own internal connection that can’t be so easily pointed to as say, her hat and shoes. Perhaps, because I am connected by lineage to the person represented in the photo, it is genetic memory which punctuates my desire to know more. Barthes describes how a photo which captures a landscape can induce in one a desire to inhabit the place depicted. I find, in these photos of my grandmothers, a longing to inhabit their stories in a way which seems to “carry me back to somewhere in myself…”

“Oh Sankofa, high on the Heavens you soar
My soul is soon to follow you, back to yesterdays moon
will it remember me?
Back to yesterdays sun, It will rekindle me
Rekindle the spirit into tomorrow and high on the wind
Sankofa flys again and again.”

lyrics by Cassandra Wilson

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Chicago’s Twelve

Harmonia, by Alfonso Piloto-Nieves

“Chicago’s Twelve,” featuring artists producing environmental works, is now on exhibit at the Garfield Park Conservatory. The Conservatory is worth a visit just to walk through the gardens or experience the fern room! But with the addition of this “must see” exhibition, there is another excellent reason to visit.

I was disappointed that I had missed this show when it was on display this spring at Zhou B Art Center from April 20–June 9; and so, quite pleased to learn that I’d have a second chance to view it at the Conservatory, I went to the opening reception, which took place on Wednesday, August 8. It was a lovely summer evening, perfect for a stroll through the outdoor gardens. Along with the natural beauty that this space holds, it was wonderful to find these environmental art treasures along the way as I walked the grounds and paths inside the structure.

Here is the description of the show from the Garfield Park Conservatory website:

“Through interaction with environmental issues, the re-purposing of found objects, and utilization of non-traditional material, the twelve artists displaying pieces in this exhibit call into question not only our present relationship with our world, but also the possibility of its sustainable future.”

                       

S.E.E.M. by N. Masani Muhammad
photo credit: http://www.zbcenter.org

“Chicago’s Twelve” will be up through December 9. If you go see this show soon, you can experience the exhibit while the gardens are still open. Or, you could wait until the autumn trees have lost their leaves, and then you can get a dose of chlorophyll for your eyes or bask in the tropical climate of the fern room while experiencing the show.

Some of the works that you will witness in this exhibit are: the surreal, earthy and industrial sculptures of Alfonso Piloto-Nieves; the whimsical and colorful plastic bottle cap totems of Mary Ellen Croteau; the subtle, yet powerful wood and mixed-media assemblages of N. Masani Muhammad; and the star-shaped, re-purposed traffic cones of Victoria Fuller. Other artists included in the show are: Yva Neal, Jason Brammer, Sharon Gilmore, Kim Guare, Salvador Jimenez Flores, Dana Major Kanovitz, Connie Noyes, and Vivian Visser.

The Conservatory is open every day, 9am–5pm, and on Wednesdays from 9am to 8pm, and conveniently located one block north of the Conservatory-Central Park Drive CTA Green Line stop.If you’d like to know what the artists and curator, Sergio Gomez, have to say about the work, there will be an artist talk on September 26th from 5:30pm to 8pm entitled “When Art and Nature Intersect: Reconsidering our Environments.” To reserve your spot at this discussion, email events@prairie.org or call 312-422-5580. Maybe I’ll see you there!

 

Post revised from Chicago’s Twelve | Marginalia by Monica J. Brown.

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indiegogo

Become an art collector! Support an artist who is currently seeking to feed her muse through the Interdisciplinary Arts MA Program at Columbia College.

On the Wing

Short Summary

Have you been yearning to be the owner of original artwork? My Myriad Muse is launching a campaign to encourage you to take that next step and allow yourself to make that art purchase! Not only will you be fulfilling one of your personal desires, you will also be supporting an artist who is currently seeking to feed her muse through the Interdisciplinary Arts Program at Columbia College.

What You Get

For a limited time only, you can purchase artwork from Chicago artist, Monica J. Brown at a 20-30% discount — from personal greeting cards, to limited edition lithographs, to original paintings.

The Impact

After having been a practicing artist for many years, I began to feel that I needed to add some new tools to my toolbox in order to expand and grow. Thinking about earning a Master’s degree, I began researching graduate programs. I found a perfect fit with the program at Columbia which combined many of the creative ways that I express myself  (visual art, movement, and writing) with some of the ways that I’d wanted to learn to express myself (sound art and performance.)

I am honored to have been accepted into this program, and have successfully completed half of this 30hr MA degree program (at a part-time schedule) and am requesting your help in funding the second half. The total amount needed in tuition and fees is $12,000. I have secured all but $8000 of this amount. Art purchased through this campaign is for direct funding of tuition. All donations appreciated!

How You Can Help

To view this indiegogo campaign go here: http://www.indiegogo.com/mymyriadmuse

If you like the artwork, feel free to share this campaign with others.

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Caught in the rain without an umbrella

After the Storm
acrylic on canvas
24″ X 18″

Yesterday, on such a hot, hot day, (103 degrees) I decided to treat myself to an avocado freeze from the smoothie place nearby. I was downtown and had some time to spare before teaching my next yoga class, so I decided to sit in the park for a moment and cool off with my cool drink. (Yes, it sounds preposterous to want to sit outside in that heat, but a cloud cover had appeared almost out of nowhere and cooled it down a bit.)

I looked up and saw a magnificent storm cloud – evidence that it was going to rain… eventually. Hopefully, after I had made it back to the gym. There was no mention of rain in the forecast for that early in the day. But then, one solitary drop. Then, the sound of thunder. And on that note, I headed to the bus stop a few feet away that had a 3-sided shelter. That was fine for a while, but as the wind picked up, the raindrops managed to find me. Not so bad at first, since it wasn’t raining terribly hard at that point.

A family – husband, wife, and daughter – came to join me, taking shelter under the bus stop canopy. He was nice enough to stand in front of them and shield them from the rain that was still coming in under the shelter. Sweet. Then the storm really picked up, and the rain starting blowing sideways!

The gentleman discovered that because of the angle and direction of the wind, the best shield from the rain was actually behind the bus shelter. That worked   for a few minutes, and then we all realized it was a lost cause. The rain was surprisingly cool, almost too cool. And as the rain pelted us from seemingly all angles, we all found our sense of humor, laughing at the situation. Nothing much we could do about it anyway. He took off his shoes and let his feet stand in a sidewalk puddle, as did his daughter. And he even swished his feet a bit in the curbside puddle that had formed beside the street.  My toes were surely wet in my sandals, and I could even feel some grit from the sidewalk under my feet. I didn’t feel the urge to place my bare feet on the pavement.

They decided to take a bus back to their hotel. Even in the midst of getting caught in the storm, they relayed that Chicago was their favorite big city. They were enjoying their visit here from South Carolina. After some time, I realized that I was waiting for a bus that didn’t run until later in the day, and hopped on the next bus that came along – very uncomfortable in my cold wet clothes with the a/c on blast.  I made it to my destination a few minutes late, but was thankful to be at a place where I could change into dry clothes.

I do appreciate a good storm – admittedly, usually witnessing them from the inside looking out; but it was kind of fun to get caught in the rain without an umbrella. It’s been a while since I’ve played in the rain. And it smelled glorious.    I love that moist earth smell. It smells like life, fertility, home…

 

[Petrichor is the scent of rain on dry earth. The word is constructed from Greek, petra, meaning stone + ichor, the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology.] Wikipedia

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Connected Images

The Connected Images 5.5 day intensive at Columbia College was one of the most stressful and exhausting experiences that I’ve had in a very long while. It was also one of the most creative and productive. It truly felt like an immersion into the deconstruction and reconstruction of my creative process. I came into the course with a set idea of what I wanted to accomplish, after having started      a series of assemblages during my 1 ½ weeks stay at Ragdale a week before beginning this course. I really wanted to finish these pieces as they are a part of   a larger body of work that I have been concentrating on for the past year.

Grace (detail)
photo by Chelsey Shilling

During my first meeting with instructors, I was encouraged to let go of this idea and pursue something else in order to allow myself to be uncomfortable, to try something that was more difficult for me. This was particularly frustrating for me, because I felt like I was following my muse, which is the only way that I am able to work. I wasn’t willing to let go of my idea, but I allowed it to migrate…

As the week went on, I began to meditate on the writing that I had done inside some of the exercises and excursions presented in the course. This allowed my idea to mutate even further. After a while, I completely let go of my original idea, and turned to painting, which I had let go of for eight long months due to the fact that I was exploring other media, but also because I was feeling creatively stuck in that area. Through the process of moving through this course, I was able to pick up the paintbrush again and explore painting in a way that was completely new to me: more intuitive, less formulated. This felt like a wonderful break-through. Along with the paintings, I created a performance piece which included a poem composed from the writing that I had done during the week.

By the time I arrived at Crit Day, I had come full circle, deciding to also return to the assemblages as they had been a stepping off point for this entire process – realizing that there was something inside of them for me that warranted further exploration. Through this investigative week, I was also reminded of the power of pursuing and following my own my personal muse – something I had almost forgotten while in the depths of this expanding and contracting journey. My theme revolved around cycles, time, and phases, so it’s very interesting to me that my creative process also followed this circular theme with me returning to where I started, albeit with a new and fresh perspective.  

I am/I am not/Am I? (detail)
photo by Chelsey Shilling

The intensity and stress factor induced by the compact nature of this course definitely aided in stretching me outside of my own prescribed boundaries. It was difficult for me physically and mentally, but so worth it to tap into a creative space that could only have been reached through the confines of “running out of time.”

 

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Dad

 

One ordinary, hot summer day, my sister and I were visiting our cousins who lived around the corner and down the street from us. We were sitting together in their family room watching the end of an episode of the Brady Bunch. We couldn’t have been there for more than fifteen minutes when the phone rang. It was my dad saying that it was time for us to come home. He wasn’t at home when we had left, and we couldn’t figure out why he would want us home now. Our mom had okayed our visit, but our cousins helped to convince us that we must be in trouble for something. But what?!

All the way up the street, we wondered… Whatever it was, it must be something that both my sister and I had done, otherwise we figured that he would have let the other one of us stay there. What did we do?!  We left our brother at home to play by himself. Maybe that’s it. He’s upset because we didn’t take him with us. No, that’s silly, he was with his friends when we left. And besides, he didn’t even want to go with us.

All the way around the corner we wondered… Our room? Were we supposed to clean our room before we went out today? No. What then?…

When we got to our front yard, there was no longer any need to try and guess why we had been summoned, we knew that we were about to find out…

My dad was standing on the front steps with his arms crossed. He knew that we were scared. “Come on in the house,” he said. There were only three steps to climb to get to the other side of that door.

Greeting me and my sister was our little brother, standing in front of three brand new bicycles. Nobody’s birthday present, not even close to Christmas, no holiday – just because. Smiles lit up all of our faces, and my dad let out a deep, warm-hearted laugh. “Gotcha, didn’t I,” he smiled.

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Ragdale

Chandler Studio, Ragdale (work in progress…)

I spent a few wonderful days at Ragdale last month. While there, I started work on some assemblages which are a part of a larger body of work (including poetry, short stories, and performance) inspired by my maternal grandmothers. A lot of progress was made on this project, and the ideas seemed to flow on the open air during my long walks on the prairie trails. Work in my studio was a result of being able to clear my head in such an inspiring setting. It’s always wonderful to be afforded time outside of the city, and be provided with delicious meals, solitude and community.

During the day, artists and writers spend time in their studios working, meeting up occasionally and/or coincidentally in the kitchen for breakfast, or a lunch of leftovers from dinner the night before. Evenings are when the residents come together for dinner prepared by the Ragdale chef. In the dining room ideas are shared, connections made, and friendships started. Lots of laughter ensued with the wonderful group that I was in residence with.

On our last night at Ragdale, we gathered out on the screened-in porch of the Meadow Studio. As the sun was just starting to set, there was a quiet hush. I felt bathed in the red/orange light that shone through behind my closed eyes, and I allowed myself to become absorbed in it. The warmth of that light enveloped me in a peacefulness that induced an unsolicited meditation. I was able to sit there quietly for five, maybe ten minutes. As the sun slowly dipped down behind the trees, conversations began. Red wine, home-crafted beer, and a 14 year scotch were some of the libations that moderately flowed during our visit.

The sun had set a couple hours before we exited the Meadow Studio, and when we left, we were greeted by a sky clear enough to see the Big Dipper. Being surrounded by trees on all sides, while in the center of the open prairie, made the sky feel domed above us. The moon was at first quarter, and it was bright enough to light our way back to the Barnhouse, where we all would spend our last night at Ragdale.

The next morning, a few of us met up for yoga in the garden. We all chose spots in the sunlight in which to position our mats, raising arms in urdhva hastasana to welcome the day, reaching up with no ceiling to cap the open sky above us. The roses were fragrant; and the birds, in symphony, were accompanied by the sound of the fiddle being played by a resident in the Friends Studio. A light undercurrent of the sound of bow on strings rode the wind out to where we were. Birds and bow, and breeze through leaves was our peaceful soundtrack. It seemed like the sun was shining there just for us, because as soon as we went back inside, it moved behind the clouds and stayed there, as one by one, we left the grounds.

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Joseph Cornell

Toward the Blue Peninsula 1951-52
Joseph Cornell

Dream (for Joseph Cornell)

©Monica J. Brown

I.

These magical boxes create universes, crack imagination.

What dreams live, grow, transgress, manifest? What memories

are evoked within the whispering annals of ocean white fluff?

Of all of the glittering magma, where lies the immense opening

into the other side of possibility stepping off into the unknown ether

of the one dreaming, the one dreamed of…

 


Untitled (Pharmacy) 1943
Joseph Cornell

II.

Within these tiny capsulated jars are held the whispered

secret, the unspoken wish, the magnified realm of star-glinted

machinations upon this filament of flowering cloud wisped

past the illuminated sound of heart beat, last breath gasped,

left and lingered past the representation of love lost/gained/

restored/repaired/reciprocated…

Object (Roses des Vents) 1942-53
Joseph Cornell

 III.

Telepathic insurrection of dreams left uncharted/untraveled, bursting

with the velocity of volcanic magma,       of black holes sucking

through the chasm of hope,       clawing through the syncopated rhythm of

heartbeat unclenched against this weather-beaten stroll of leg & foot against

pavement;          walking towards a future initiated by each heel, ball, toe

away from this makeshift canopy of awake

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