Purple Shag Studio – An Overview

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A conversation begun on Twitter the other night on the topic of low cost studios (#lowcoststudio)- mainly, how do the majority of artists (when I say majority here, I mean the ones who don’t necessarily make a living from their art) find the space to do their work. This usually involves a converted space in the home, such as a basement or garage. I painted out of my basement for four years and it worked out well for me, except for the typical onset of cabin fever. Anyway, I tweeted that I rent space from a church, and pay them in art. That had a few of you curious and wishing for a bit of elaboration. Here, I offer a little bit of insight and some images for you.

Seattle First Church of the Nazarene is in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle, about three miles from my home in north Seattle. It’s a 15 minute walk from my home to catch a bus for a quick 10 minute ride the rest of the way. They are not a large community, but they are active, taking full advantage of their large 1950s church building. Four other communities, including two Asian-speaking churches, use the building for worship. Converted offices are rented out to non profits like Beyond Malibu. Several other community groups use the space for practices, such as the Washington Scottish Pipe Band (who practice on Thursday nights – a great time to be in the studio, as the bagpipes are LOUD and beautiful).

The church also has a space that they’ve designated as an artist studio, which I’ve taken pics of and posted here. It’s really a great space, as you can see. High ceilings, lots of light, tons of space. I share it with another artist, and we’ve cordoned it off so that we each work on opposite ends of the room, with the middle being kind of a “living room” with chairs and a couch. I also hang work on that wall, which I suppose serves as kind of a viewing area.

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It’s not perfect – the windows are west facing, so at sunset you get blazing sun coming in. It’s unheated, which in the winter is not fun. On hot days during the summer, it gets up to 90 degrees on the inside! And the floor may or may not be asbestos – I just leave it alone. It’s all part of the whole package though, and I love it.

So, the rent arrangement. As I said in my tweet, I pay in art. Twice a year, the church commissions me to make a painting for them, which I do and give to them. I’ll usually speak to the community on a Sunday about the painting as well. The church in this way has over the last few years built up a nice collection of artwork. Outside of the artwork I make for the church, I have full autonomy to make my work in the space at any time.

That’s the deal. I am fortunate and blessed to have such a great space at the cost (though the cost is relative – the last painting the church received I had a really difficult time parting with). I’m hoping to do an open house in the next couple of months, inviting the community out to get an inside look at what we are doing and working on. Details for that will come as they are hammered out.

New Painting: The Parable of the Dying Man

Here’s my latest painting. It’s an embellishment on one of the small Estrangement pieces I did last summer. When I finished it, I took ten minutes and scribbled out a short parable as a sort of statement on the piece. I’m not a writer so forgive me if I break certain rules of  poetry, prose, or other long held systems of literature writing. The key for me is that the words were informed by the image, and not the other way around.

parablesickman

Once, there was a man
who was dying.
He knew he was dying, and so
prayed to God to receive his spirit.
That he would that very day dwell in Heaven in the clouds
with his friends who had died and Ben Franklin
and Gandhi.
And so he died.
As his soul ascended, God went by.
Only God was too busy
Being a horse with wings, and He had flowers to deliver.
He was so busy with this, the delivering of flowers
That God didn’t notice the man’s ascending soul.
It vanished
And so the man was just dead.

hello, my name is matt. i’m an artist, and i make pictures of flying fish and roosters on space shuttles.

Here are a couple of new paintings.

Ideate

Ideate, oil and acrylic on canvas, 36″ x 36″

Ideate

Ingenuity, oil and acrylic on canvas, 36″ x 36″

my favorite painting that no one ever asks me about

sleepoffaith

The Sleep of Faith, oil on canvas, 38″H x 50″ W, 2008.

Maybe it’s because the figures are nude (or naked, if you’re not artistically inclined), or that the figure looks like me, or that the imagery looks kind of sexual in some way. Whatever the perceived reason, no one ever wants to talk to me about this painting. A friend recently asked me, which one of my paintings is my favorite? I pointed to this one, and realized that nobody really asks me about it. On the surface, I suppose it could be seen as a self-serving painting, wallowing in weirdness. I assure you my intentions go deeper, though probably still weird at their core. Hey, I like weird images. So, since I have my own blog for writing about things related to artmaking, I am going to take the opportunity to describe this painting to you, Dear Reader. I warn you that my grasp on philosophy is tenuous, as concepts in current thought race past me faster than I can digest old ones. I am also no art historian. However, I know what I know and that is where I am (or was last year, when I made this painting). Intrigued? Read on!

I came up with the idea for it at the tail end of last year’s By/For Vancouver Project. We had been working with the themes of The Beautiful, The Sublime, and The Grotesque. I was reading two books at the time: Umberto Eco’s A History of Beauty, and H.R. Rookmaaker’s Modern Art and the Death of a Culture. Both books look into the imagery of Venus as a representation of beauty. Rookmaaker takes it a step further, going into Modernism and looking at Manet’s painting Olympia as an example that beauty was being slowly destroyed – that we could no longer look at beauty as having any real representation of truth – since any form of objective beauty should point to God’s hand in forming our appreciation of it. Beauty is dead, Truth is dead, God is dead, etc. Perhaps Tracey Emin’s My Bed best expresses these conclusions. I remember seeing this work at the Tate Museum in London (the artist was a Turner Award Finalist), back in college on a study tour, and it has haunted me ever since. I don’t really wish to delve into art history or modernist philosophy here, as I am certainly no expert. I merely wish to briefly outline the subject matter I was looking at and reading about so as to give you some insight into my painting here.

I was in the studio, scribbling in my sketchbook, thinking about these things, and came across a drawing I had done one recent morning. It was of these sheep with animal heads. One night, I had woken up at 3am or so, and had trouble falling back asleep. This occasionally happens to everyone, as you start thinking about bills to pay, car repairs, job stresses, and your mind ramps up when it should be winding down. So to try to quiet my mind, I went to the old cliched approach of counting sheep. What my imagination spun was that the sheep had  animal heads like horses, dogs, cats, etc. Still jumping over the fence, one at a time, but as hideous hybrids, creatures from the Island of Dr. Moreau. Needless to say, this did not aid in my falling back asleep.

However, it gave me a great backdrop in which to work out this imagery for myself. So in this painting, on the bed, there lies me instead of “Venus”, who has been pushed off the bed to the side. Beauty, here, is not dead. She has merely been brushed aside due to my tossing and turning in sleep. The title “Sleep of Faith” also pays homage to Goya’s The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, who to me seems to be addressing similar issues in his time and life. I wonder if The Sleep of Faith was more fitting. I believe that generally, it’s at the extremes of thought that we get ourselves into trouble. Concepts like the inherent goodness that exists in all of us (Humanism/Renaissance art), or the use of our rational capabilities and empirical discernment (Enlightement/Realist art) were not at their root bad concepts. I think they were quite good. But taken to their extreme, when the need for God has been entirely cast aside, saying we can figure life out for ourselves, and thus turning away from seeking Truth, or denying that it exists, has perhaps created the monsters we struggle with today.

Tara Ward Album Release Concert and Art Show – September 25

Poster has the details. I made art, which I wrote about for Tara and am reposting below:

The Jacket of Knowledge, oil and acrylic on wood, 18" x 24"

The Jacket of Knowledge, oil and acrylic on wood, 18" x 24"

I am excited to be a part of this and to contribute to Tara’s vision. I am thankful to Tara to have been invited to collaborate in this manner, coming up with a visual meditation and interpretation of her album. I’ve been listening to songs from the album all summer, and after having done so, contemplated the story being told and came up with this painting.
I love stories. Stories for me are full of mystery, and yet still can point to truth. In Tara’s story about Cordelia, I see parallels to the biblical story of Adam and Eve. The jacket reveals things to Cordelia, and similarly, Eve is tempted by the fruit of knowledge, wanting to know things she was not meant to know. In particular, being tempted by knowledge, and having that temptation lead to a corruption the soul. In my everyday life, I am constantly bombarded by information, made easier by the Internet, cell phones, computers, television, etc. Thus I have become needy of this stream, needing to read the news so I know what’s going on in the world the minute it happens. Or needing to know what happened during each football game as each play occurs. Wanting to read e-mail as soon as it’s sent, checking the computer constantly, or worse, having it delivered to a device that buzzes in our pocket every few minutes. This need for knowledge becomes a leash, a tether, that keeps me from being able to pause, to quiet my mind, and to listen to life. Making art is one way in which I can quiet myself, be at peace for a few moments, and converse with the transcendent.
This painting in particular is my conversation with this story, this way in which too much knowledge overwhelms us; burdens us; it clouds and disrupts; and ultimately keeps our thoughts and meditations away from being at peace with our true selves and our places in this world. This tension in which the soul seeks to dwell in Mystery, of NOT knowing, while the brain consumes information with an insatiable appetite. In our current technological age, it simply can be too much.

tarawardposter

Art on Display in Ballard through October

I recently opened an exhibit of ALL my current work at Habitude Spa, Salon, and Gallery, in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle. Some of you were asking if the exhibit was open to the public, whether you can go look at the work without having to put cucumbers in your eyes, or have your hair shampooed.

The answer is YES. You can just go into the salon and check out the art. They are open every day until 9pm. I emptied my studio for this exhibit. 25 paintings, some large, some small, are on display. I recommend you go see it before the second week of October, when the work gets moved upstairs to the spa, which is much less conducive to art viewing. Here are a few examples of paintings and prices:

Post Human, oil on canvas, $400

Post Human, oil on canvas, $400

Tree in Three Spaces, oil on canvas, $200

Tree in Three Spaces, oil on canvas, $200

Estrangement: Flat Tire, acrylic and pen on hardboard, $100

Estrangement: Flat Tire, acrylic and pen on hardboard, $100

Vancouver Project II

Vancouver Project II at Binning Studio, University of British Columbia

Vancouver Project II at Binning Studio, University of British Columbia, photo by Erik Newby

Hello.

I am currently in Vancouver, BC for a two week artist residency through the By/For project. The six artists participating are myself, Shannon Newby, Kathy Hastings, Nancy Rebal, Ginger Geyer, and Roger Feldman.

I would tell you all about it, but Brian Moss and Shannon are doing such a thorough and wonderful job blogging our time together, you should just read what they are posting.

I’ll write more about it when I return home.

Thanks!

matt

Practicing Spirituality via Metro Rt 5 and ST 554

Some of you know I am a big fan of public transit – be it riding the bus to get around, taking the train to Portland and Vancouver, etc. I am fortunate to live in a city that has an extensive bus system, and this summer will finally open its first rapid transit line. In 10 years, it will be expanded to Bellevue, and I will be able to take Grey to his grandparents house at any time of day without needing a car or two bus transfers.

Riding the bus requires an extreme amount of patience, something which I admit I don’t have a lot of. We just want to get from point A to point B as fast as possible, with as little fuss as is necessary. A car is the best option for that. Taking the bus to my destinations usually doubles my travel time, sometimes triples, typically stopping every two to three blocks to board/unboard passengers, or ambling along a less-than-optimal route, making zig-zags through a neighborhood. Waiting for a bus is another test in patience – they are most always late, and trying to rely on a timetable is a practice in futility. Waiting for a bus with a 30-60 minute interval at 10:30pm on 3rd and Pine is a test in courage! Living in a society in which we try to do as much as possible in as little time as possible, there are not many people who can really can afford the time it takes to commit to riding the bus. I have a four month old son, several current art projects, and a part time job to juggle. Every minute has value and I don’t want to squander a single one.

Now, the benefits of riding public transit are well known: less environmental impacts, no traffic to fight, no parking to deal with, saves money. I am an advocate for all of these.

However, it is in this space that I am forced to slow down. Rather than work myself up into an impatient rage over these events that are out of my control (which does happen, I am not proud to say), I turn up my ipod to whatever playlist or album I can’t stop listening to (currently Absolution by Muse, the new Royksopp, and Paper Planes by M.I.A. – I will play these over and over until I am sick of them), and whip out my sketchbook. My sketchbook also doubles as a journal, so I write and draw in here. Sitting on the bus, being alone with my thoughts, watching the city go by out the window, observing people from all walks of life come and go – riding suddenly becomes a creative wellspring in which I formulate ideas, pray, or just exist amongst humanity in our broken and at the same time redeemed world. I feel connected to it as one of these passengers, traveling through life down Denny Way, seeking destinations, and ultimately answers, to why we are here.

My soul comes to life and I scribble away in my sketchbook. Sometimes, it’s a brainstorm for a new painting. Mostly, it’s just drawing what’s in front of me at the time – another practice in patience, slowing down and studying something, knowing it’s form and it’s value. Here are a few examples from my sketchbook:

It’s an incredible challenge to draw accurately while riding a bouncing bus across I-90 at 60mph. I try to gather as much detail as fast as I can when the bus is at a stop, then scribble in value and shade while moving.

None of this happens when I take my car somewhere. No time to reflect on life when you’re staring (glaring) at the bumper in front of you amidst the smog and blight of an urban freeway at rush hour. Now, of course you could have a podcast of your favorite pastor giving a sermon, or listen to a CD of worship music, and gain some spiritual strength through that.

I greatly prefer my method of transit meditation anyday.

Hanging out at the Ballard Art Walk tonight

September 13th 7-9 Ballard Artwalk
at Folktown Counseling
www.folktowncounseling.com
1900 Dock Place, Suite 3, Seattle WA 98107
(corner of Dock & Ballard ave, around corner from okok)

I have five paintings up and they’re all quality. Come by and say hello!

The Pursuit of Beauty

I just finished reading The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham, which is a fictional story that is based on the life of Paul Gauguin. The narrator of the story writes about his encounters and researches into the life of Charles Strickland, a former stockbroker who discovers painting in middle-life, abandons his family and moves to Paris to pursue art. He eventually moves to Tahiti, where he makes his best work, and then dies of leprosy.

The author portrays Strickland as a a man who places art first and foremost in his life, but beyond that, creating art renders every other aspect of life irrelevant. He leaves his family without the slightest regret. He cares not who he offends, and is neither offended by anyone. He spends the rest of his life living in total poverty, spending what little money he can weasel out of people on paints and canvas. All through his life, no one finds his art particularly remarkable, and he couldn’t care less. He is like a man possessed, whose singular purpose is the pursuit of true Beauty. He is disgusted with anything that gets in the way of that pursuit, including women, friends, and career. The author, through the story, defines this as genius.

It’s an eloquent book, with fascinating characters, snappy dialogue, and as I read them, dark themes. I love stories like this, as they casually cause me to reevaluate for myself why I paint, or more generally, why people create. Is it simply a primal urge, grossly and nakedly exposed, of the soul to find the true meaning of Beauty in life? Despite Maugham’s beautiful book, the theory is an ugly, paradoxically brutal one. I would at least add, speaking for myself, the gloss of the idea of our Creator instilling in artists the desire to pursue such an end; and perhaps also to be more like our Creator. I certainly am sensitive to others’ reactions to my work, whereas when someone denigrates Strickland’s work, he just chuckles to himself like he’s in on a great cosmic joke that the entire human race has not the capacity to understand. My hope for my work is that people CAN, and DO understand, that the visual language I have chosen to use is able to communicate that which I cannot do with words.

Without spoiling the book (because I can sense that you are ordering it on Amazon right now, right?!), Strickland’s ultimate, final expression, his most perfect masterwork in capturing the root of Beauty and its purpose, is by the artist’s dying wishes not to be shared. In the end, his single-minded purpose in life, “to paint”, is simply because he has to.