Art

Will Convenience/Instant Gratification Be Our Undoing?

Posted on by connieottmann

A City’s exorbitant cardboard trash got me thinking about our excessive consumption, and, in this Covid-19 reality, creating.

Author’s portrait of Amazon’s Jeff Bezos. Oil and x-acto knife on recycled cardboard. Covid-19 series. Cutting into cardboard give a 3-D effect.

I’ve longed to live in NYC for years, and when it became a reality this October, it didn’t disappoint in showing me a rich banquet of stimuli that could satisfy the senses of any appetite. But an interesting side effect, a slight indigestion, grew as my awareness sharpened and revealed some of the underbelly amidst the dazzle.


Sure, I expected to see skittering rats on the subway tracks and a cockroach or two. What I didn’t expect were mountains of trash, especially cardboard, left curbside most days. This begged the question why do we have to have so much? All you have to do is look at the growing trend of self storage units that have become a blight on the landscape anywhere in the U.S. We have so much damn stuff, we need additional space to house more damn stuff. And then there’s the environmental impact.

Back in October an average of 1.5 million packages a day were delivered to NYC. In addition to the congestion, add to that the growing concerns about carbon dioxide emissions and deteriorating infrastructure.

For most of us, myself included, these growing concerns flicker to a weak flame for a moment in our consciousness but then quickly get tamped out by our desire for convenience and instant gratification so easily attained with the tap of a finger.

But this pandemic is an opportunity to reevaluate, reflect, to go deeper.  By going deeper I mean calling on our higher nature to do the right thing instead of succumbing to our lower nature that always demands I want it now. Essential workers’ lives in this plague economy are on the line, and that includes people filling orders and delivering goods. We’ve got to be asking ourselves is this something I need or something I want? Is it an emergency? Then act accordingly.

Author’s painting: Fort Greene Park, Brooklyn, NY. Oil and x-acto knife on cardboard. Covid-19 series.

Like millions of others, I’m trying to exercise restraint and do the right thing. At the same time I’m looking for ways to be productive, creative, and entertained with what I already have as we social distance and self quarantine. 

As an artist, I’m continually looking for ways to be innovative while limiting my carbon footprint. Not able to find the right size canvas/wood block I wanted, and not wanting to place an order that required a delivery, I looked to recycled items.

In January, I joined the ranks of the bottle-pickers and began scavenging my Brooklyn neighborhood for large pieces of of unblemished cardboard (flat screen TV boxes are perfect). This resulted in a never-ending, free supply of discarded cardboard and the discovery of a medium that, when cut into, adds a 3-D effect to my paintings.

Author’s painting: Nostrand Ave., Brooklyn. Oil and x-acto knife on cardboard. Covidd-19 series.
Author’s painting: Lafayette Ave., Brooklyn, NY. Oil and x-acto knife of recycled cardboard. Covid-19 series.

Covid-19 has brought the world to a screeching halt. If it has done anything, it has, perhaps, forced us to take a ” searching and fearless inventory of ourselves.” Or it should.

I’d like to think there are many ways we can make a difference. Acts of kindness, thinking of others, being resourceful and creative can spread exponentially too.

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 63…and on a Budget.

Posted on by connieottmann

Volunteering and Meeting Aboriginal Artists at Waringarri Art Center in Kununurra, The East Kimberley.

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Artist Phyllis Ningamara working on a canvas at the Waringarri Art Center, in Kununurra. She told me she is very proud of the fact that her work is sold all over Australia.

 

A strong racial divide has existed for years in Kununurra similar to that in Alice Springs.  The Indigenous population is housed separately on the outskirts of town, and poverty, alcoholism, and domestic violence are pervasive.  Add to that the terrible distinction in 2014 when The World Health Organization found that suicide rates among Indigenous people in the Kimberley region were among the highest in the world.

Despite these troubling problems, there is a bright spot in the form of Waringarri Aboriginal Arts, an art center that houses both artists’ studios and galleries open to the public.  Waringarri is the first wholly Indigenous owned art center established in the Kimberley region, and one of the oldest continuously operating Centers in Australia.  Since studying art was one of my traveling goals, volunteering at the Center,  a short drive from where I was staying, was paramount.  I was given an introduction via email from a gallery owner in Perth who represents Waringarri artists back in April, but when I went to the center in June to introduce myself to the director, I was told that I had to first write a letter and be approved by the board before I could do any volunteering.  Finally, after two weeks of cancelled board meetings, I was approved to work in the studio with the artists.

Waringarri Art Center supports over 100 artists who specialize in natural ocher painting on canvas and paper, limited edition prints, wood carvings and sculptures, and hand- printed fabrics.  The Indigenous group represented in this area are the Miriwoong people who hold the land sacred and see themselves as custodians caring for the country and resting places of their spiritual ancestors.  Artists typically paint a kind of aerial map of the land they grew up in which helps them maintain a connection to the sacred places of that country.  I was lucky to have the chance to meet and speak with some of the artists while helping out in the studio for several days.

In the photo above, Phyllis Ningamara explained to me that she was painting a view of the river after the wet season where she grew up and the many colored river stones reflecting in the sunshine.

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Artist Ben Ward explaining a just-completed work.

Bigger than life and very chatty is artist Ben Ward, who with his family, worked and lived at Argyle Downs station until he was ten.  He later worked at Carlton Station, and his paintings focus on his memories of when he was a young man mustering cattle. Triangles of different colors representing the rivers, Boab trees, water, and mountains appear in his most recent work.  I later saw that this piece (shown in the above photo) had been sold in the gallery.  In the past, my experience with Aboriginal art brought to mind paintings consisting primarily of hundreds of dots.  Different regions depict different styles, and the work here has a much more contemporary, abstract quality that I particularly like.

Artist Peggy Griffiths designing and hand printing a length of linen fabric. Cotton and silk fabric are also used.
In the studio doing some restoration work on a beautiful piece by artist Gloria Mengil. In the center is artist Peggy Griffiths.

Peggy Griffiths, and her husband Alan Griffiths, are two well known artists from this region.  Peggy was born in the Norther Territory but moved to Argyle Station when she was 15.  At the age of 16, she was promised in marriage to Alan Griffiths.  She started working at Waringarri in 1985, is now a senior artist, and teaches other artists. While helping to organize the studio, I noticed lots of Peggy’s notes explaining how to do color mixing.  Peggy is a beautiful woman who though quiet, has a regal air about her.  She and husband Alan are highly respected in the community, and their work is prominently displayed at the impressive, new court house in Kununurra.  I’m told they often paint together.

Canvas by Peggy Griffiths at the Kununurra Court House.
Painting by Alan Griffiths, husband of Peggy Griffiths. Dancers often appear in his work.

 

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Lovely Jalah home from acting school in Sydney volunteered with me at Waringarri Art Center where her mother works in the office. She was a great source of information about Aboriginal culture and informed me that she is what is known as “half caste”( half white and half Aboriginal). This was a common term used in the past but is now considered derogatory.

Volunteering at the center was a great experience in many ways. One morning I got a call from the center to come in as soon as possible.  The Western Australian Indigenous Tourism Operators Council (WAITOC) was doing a photo shoot for some new brochures, and they were looking for “tourists” to be in their photos.

Another local couple was drafted from town and we headed out with photographer Jack, business development manager Liz, and several members from the art center to a location just outside of town considered sacred by the Miriwoong.  After a “blessings” ceremony at the Dunham River welcoming us to the land, we headed to another location featuring a  mighty Boab tree thought to be thousands of years old.

At the Durham River in Kununurra partaking in an Aboriginal blessings ceremony welcoming us to Indigenous land. Branches from the Coolibah tree are dipped in the river and then sprinkled on the hands, feet, and head by a elder member of the group.
More of the crew from Waringarri on the photo shoot.

At one point, I got a little annoyed, and even felt a little discriminated against when Liz asked me, the single person, to step aside in a few of the shots because they wanted “couple photos.”  Although they didn’t want the photos to appear staged, they looked pretty staged to me. During my travels, I’ve met lots of single women, young and old, traveling alone.  Tourism groups and businesses would be wise to cater to lone travelers; there is a need and a market in the industry!

On the photo shoot with a local couple and members from the Waringarri Art Center. Teddy (with the hat and center) is a fun and charismatic tour guide from the center.
The photographer used a drone which everyone got a kick out of operating.

Several weeks after the shoot, I followed up with Liz about the brochures and asked if I had made it into any of the photos.  She said, indeed, I was included.  I’m now waiting to get a copy!

Up until this point in my travels I hadn’t purchased any art or souvenirs, but at the art center, where I knew the money would go directly back to the artists, I splurged on two hand-carved didgeridoos for my son and his dad(women are not allowed to play the didgeridoo), and several hand-carved Boab nuts for other family members and friends.  Each item came with a certificate of provenance and identified the artist who created it.

In the process of volunteering and meeting some of these Aboriginal artists, I’ve gained a greater respect for their culture and the deep love they have for the land of their ancestors. I’ve also come to realize that art illuminates (stealing a quote from Maya Angelou) that “… we are more alike than we are unalike,” and in this global society, we can all do with a little more understanding and less fear.  In the words of author Andrew Solomon:

It is nearly impossible to hate anyone whose story you know.

A”Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out!

Posted on by connieottmann

 A Trip Across The River Styx to the Underworld:  The MONA Museum, Hobart, Tasmania.

 

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Arriving at the MONA on the Mona Roma ferry. You can also drive or take a coach. I recommend the ferry!

Tasmania (known as Tas or Tassie by locals) certainly lives up to one of its slogans: The Island of Inspiration.  This Commonwealth, island state just south of Melbourne is home to approximately 500,000 residents, half of whom reside in the port city capital of Hobart.  Known for its World Heritage wilderness, good food, and clean air, I think most people would agree that what has really put Tasmania on the map as a destination is the privately owed MONA museum(Museum of Old and New Art), which is dedicated to sex and death.  With only three and a half days in Hobart, it was the focus of my visit.

The MONA is like no other museum in the world.  Since it  opened in 2011, it has been hailed as both visionary and profane and has drawn over 1.65 million visitors from around the world (Tasmanians have embraced it and get in free).  The man inspired to create this is as interesting as his collection of modern art and antiquities. David Walsh grew up in a poor, working class suburb of Hobart(across from where the MONA is built), was considered a shy nerd, developed an algorithm, and became one of the world’s top gamblers earning millions. A self proclaimed atheist, Walsh gambled 150 million dollars on what he describes as “a secular temple and subversive adult Disneyland” with art that he wagers could become worthless in a decade or two.

Going to the MONA for one day just wasn’t enough… too much sensory overload. I had to go back a second time.  Even so, it was several days later before I could make sense of it all. The experience  had to be ingested and digested before I could excrete anything I could express verbally ( you will come to appreciate this analogy later).

Visiting the MONA is like crossing The River Styx to the Underworld, but this time Charon is taking you across the Derwent River on a luxury, two story ferry, and it only costs $20.00 round trip for the half hour ride. If you want to “escape the riff raff,” a $50.00 Posh Pit ticket will get you an exclusive lounge and lots of extras including a 30 minute wine tasting at Morilla Winery next door to the museum.

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The Mona Roma ferry, takes you on a half hour ride from the harbor to the museum for $20.00 round trip. If you are Tasmanian, you get to go to the museum for free.

A light drizzle, grey skies, and cold temperatures (by Australian standards) provided what seemed like  perfect weather for my first visit.  It’s quite dramatic approaching the museum from the water. This steel and sandstone edifice sits theatrically  up high on a promontory, and after docking at the ferry wharf, a ninety-nine-step climb takes you to the entrance.

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Mirrored entrance to the MONA. Walsh is an avid tennis player, so, of course, there’s a tennis court at the entrance.  Nothing intimidating or high brow here!

 

View from the entrance of the MONA, across the tennis court, of James Turrell’s piece, “Amarna,” a kind of gazebo of light best viewed at sunset or sunrise when colored light is reflected on the canopy ceiling. Turrell has built 80 of these Skyscape installations all over the world. This is his largest.
Sandstone lined stairway. You have to climb 99 stairs to the museum entrance.
Another view of huge, metal sculptures outside the entrance to the museum.
View from the entrance looking down to one of two metal sculptures.

What I immediately loved about the MONA is that there is nothing sanctimonious about it.  So often when entering museums, and even some art galleries, there is an atmosphere that suggests conversations should be spoken in whispers… that maybe genuflecting is required.  There’s serious stuff at the MONA, yet the place doesn’t take itself too seriously.  There’s a healthy dose of humor and irreverence everywhere.

First of all, there is no writing or labeling of artwork on the walls.  After getting through the lobby, a smart phone-like device called the O is handed out. The O is the first system in the world designed to replace traditional artwork labels. Walk into any of the galleries and a click on the device brings up pictures of the artwork. An additional click on each piece shows a selection of information you can access such as ideas, artist’s interviews, art wank, Gonzo (Walsh’s commentary–he thinks Madonna is shit), music, and videos. Who wants to read stuffy art discourse bunched up against other viewers when you can listen, at your convenience, to what interests you? Save your tour gets you an email later that night of your path through the museum including a list of viewed, loved, and hated works.

Armed with the O, you are directed by “front of house staff” to a circular, steel staircase that descends 55 feet (17 meters) to the bowels of a dimly lit underworld… complete with a bar. The basement level is otherworldly and  feels a little cave-like, with a narrow hallway lined with a huge wall of ancient sandstone left exposed. It seems fitting that Cinerarium, velvet drapes surrounding three shelves containing elaborate, egg-shaped cremation urns, is the first artwork seen.   A reminder of death, but also a reminder to celebrate life. Just beyond, a huge water installation, Bit.fall, rains paintings of words most commonly seen on the internet.

Descending to the bottom level where the new exhibitions are housed.
The basement museum bar “The Void” The brochure reads: “Think velvet, sandstone, and making eyes at the chick with the black nail polish while you slurp your postmodern martini.”
With the bar behind you and a seating area to enjoy drinks, this entrance takes you to the Cinerarium, on left. For AUD $75,000, you can enjoy an eternal membership to the MONA. When you die, they have you cremated and put in an urn in the museum! Walsh’s dad is interred there.
View of the basement looking down from the second level.
Julious Popp’s water installation “Bit.fall, that “rains paintings” of different words most commonly read on the internet. It begs the question: Are our brains being altered by the age of communication technology?

The remainder of space in this level is dedicated to new exhibitions that change every few months, and the latest,  Field Lines, by Cameron Robbins had just opened up.  Robbins somehow harnesses nature using “instruments” set up outside that draw the wind and map geothermal dynamics using neon light against a night sky.

Cameron Robbins wind drawings–pigment ink on paper–duration several days.
One of the contraptions used to create wind drawings.
Anemograph, Mt. KcKay. An anemograph is an instrument for measuring wind. Robbins’s anemograph “draws” with wind-powered light and slow photograph exposure!

 

The remaining three levels house Walsh’s collection of contemporary art and antiquities, and the two are intermixed.  An ancient Egyptian coffin stands along side a contemporary ink on paper drawing inspired from forensic photography and scientific textbooks.

Skull: Beetle carapaces, taxidermied bird, and plastic.
“Live” art, Tim’s tattooed skin is becoming a work of art over a period of years. Already sold to a German collector for $260,000 AUD, the work will be completed when Tim dies, and the work is handed over to its purchaser! This is Tim, live! He doesn’t show up on the O. Walsh wanted people to wonder What the hell is going on!
Anslem Kiefer’s sculpture Sternenfall. Materials: bookcase comprising two iron elements with lead books (190-200 volumes) and glass.
Extra rolls of toilet paper in one the bathrooms off the library at the MONA.

If you should ever meet someone who has been to the MONA, he/she will undoubtedly mention the wall of vaginas.  Entitled Cunts… and other Conversations, the installation features 77 life- size, porcelain, molded sculptures of women’s vaginas modeled by women from all walks of life ranging in ages from 18 to 78. It’s a little titillating and pretty much in your face (literally, they hang at eye level). But what inspired the artist(a man) was an article about three young women who had undergone labioplasty surgery because “…they feared men wouldn’t find them attractive if their labia did not conform to a standard seen in pornography, in which labia are airbrushed out.” These women models wanted one thing: for young women to be free of growing up with fear, ignorance, and loathing of their bodies and sexuality.  Let’s face it. How many of us women really know what we look like down there?   It’s amazing how different we all are. Who knew?!  (The gift shop sells vagina soap replicas, apparently very popular).

One of the most hated and popular installations is Wim Delvoyes’s Cloaca Professional, a large machine that replicates the human digestive system turning food into feces(remember that earlier metaphor?).  At appointed times of day, you can witness it  being fed or taking a dump (making fun of modern art?).

On the other hand, one of the most disturbing and painful works is that of Jenny Holzer who makes words into art, and in this case, words printed on human skin.  Inspired after reading about rape as an act of war carried out in Bosnia, Lustmorde, is a series of photographs with a narrative from three different perspectives: the perpetrator, the victim, and an observer (most often a family member).  They are excruciating to read. Hotzer’s work hangs near a Goya etching entitled This is Worse, from a series known as The Disasters of War.   Walsh is right when he says a lot of blood and guts are represented.

A visit to the MONA  isn’t something that is quickly forgotten.  It confronts, it entertains, it stirs things up.  Its effects are residual.  Almost six months into my trip, I realized that this was the first time I had felt lonely.  Maybe it was a combination of things.  The skies had remained overcast the whole time with the constant threat of a cold rain. My airbnb room was not in a welcoming, private home but rather in a kind of chilly rooming house, and I appeared to be the lone occupant. During this visit, I was totally on my own and never met up with anyone to share a meal with or have a friendly chat over coffee.

The MONA did what it does best, and that is it left me overwhelmed with a lot of mixed feelings.  Like an unwelcome visitor, that what-is-the-meaning-of-life existential angst crept in during the night, kept me awake, and wouldn’t leave. I finally figured the only way to get angst to leave was to make him laugh and not take myself or it too seriously. For me, the MONA reminds us that we are mortal–and to find the humor in that.

 

 

Postscript : Hobart is a beautiful city. I loved it!

Another view of the harbor.
A view of the harbor from the MONA Roma ferry.
Next to the harbor Salamanca Place with its backdrop of sandstone warehouses dating back to the 1830s now house cafes, restaurants, galleries, and designer shops.
Entrance with partial view of the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Australia’s second oldest museum is right in the CBD and a short walk from the harbor.