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The exit show for Brian Hitselberger, Justin Plakas, and Leah Brown, featuring a poetry reading by Emily Smith, March 20-April 19, 2007.
Leah Brown, Sculpture
My year with HUB-BUB has been a time of immense growth and change for
my artwork. Before entering into residence, I was making artwork where
I would physically alter a representation of my own person to get a new
perspective on what I am and what I am not. I was isolating myself into
single sculptural units with each project because I felt overwhelmed by
the solitude inherent in thought. While in residence, I have had the
time to really focus on this personal interrogation of being. What has
resulted is the realization of my connection to the world outside my
head. Now I see how much more is to be learned from analyzing space and
location and connectivity. My individuality is more an illusion than a
state of stark isolation. The connections to others, both the living
and the dead, and our connections to location, since a person is space
through taking up space, are as much part of consciousness as emotion
and thought. The realization of the importance of shared space has
translated into a movement away from mere object-making into
space-making. I entered a sculptor. I am leaving an installation
artist. This larger way of working, where I am dwarfed by my creation
allows me to see myself as a part of a larger whole, and the absence of
an imaged body allows me to imagine my own body or any body as both
present and absent within the piece.
The works I have selected for this exit show represent the artistic
process of working through this paradigm shift. Self-Deconstruction II
is the representation of the death of the artist, and the physical view
of a cessation of solipsism. Missing I-III is like the ghost. In it is
the feminine and the masculine. It is also the first time a second
life-sized figure has ever entered into my artwork. It has the feeling
of a religious sculpture, yet there is romance inherent in the figures
poses which is reinforced by the material choice, the bedsheet. There
is also the relation to a death shroud, like figures from Pompeii, as
there is no way for a plaster infused sheet to set over living
(breathing) faces. In America, I have finally gone beyond the figure to
the space for the figure. This installation will be in flux throughout
the duration of the show, as it transforms from landscape to living
room. It will also be the setting for the April Productions of the
Suzan-Lori Parks 365 Days/365 Plays Project, as performed by Wofford
students under the direction of Mark and Kerry Ferguson.
This evolution and rebirth is only the beginning of what I hope will be
a series of large-scale installations. After HUB-BUB, I will be moving
to Brooklyn, NY where I will continue to create and exhibit artwork.
Brian Hitselberger, Mixed-Media
The work shown here represents the more successful projects Iíve
undertaken during my time as one of the HUB-BUB Artists-in-Residence.
In keeping with character, my work traveled in many different
directions over the past year. For matters of simplification, Iíve
referred to myself as ìthe painter,î although thatís not really the
caseóI get ideas for pieces in many forms, and try to run with them.
HUB-BUB allowed me the time to explore these flights of fancy to a
greater extent than I ever had before, and I believe it shows in the
work.
What has changed for me, however, is a sense of confidence in the
process of making. Processes or challenges that used to take a week of
effort are resolved in an afternoon nowólooking at all the pieces
together, itís been made clear to me that Iíve become a much better
artist, both formally and conceptually. That, in and of itself, has
made this experience ìworth it.î Upon leaving, I have been
strengthened. Mission accomplished. We have a winner.
If there is a tie that binds all the work here, it was this time
itself. Stories overheard in restaurants and coffee shops found their
way into paintings. Long drives into the country yielded photographs,
which became settings for imagined dramas. My interactions with
Converse Printmaking students reminded me again of my love of printed
work, which led to my large wall hanging, Leafcurtain. All of it was
propelled forward by an internal need to create. In doing so, I have
been able to examine my intentions as an artist more thoroughlyóI look
forward to the future eagerly, and with certainty in my abilities as a
maker.
Justin Plakas, Film and Photography
This year has been tough and amazing.
Living and working in the same space can be complicated.
I shot over 5,000 photographs. I ate two Ikeís hamburgers. 3 trout
plates añplenty. I tried foreign foods like fried pickles and pimento
cheese.
I missed my family. I loved a new place, and I loved new people. The
old things, the things that were left to crumble and disappear,
inspired me.
Some of the best sunsets I have ever seen were in Spartanburg.
I saw a Chevy Caprice with a Louis Vuitton paint job on Henry Street. I
saw a tire roll off a monster truck on Pine Street. The Truck stopped.
The tire rolled past me. Two fat men in overalls tried to run after it.
I worked with some really awesome kids from Chapman Elementary. I got to be Mr. J.
My art changed. I actually saw it happen. It isnít something that I
will have to look back to see. I can see it now in this room. That is
why I came here to begin with right? Or maybe it was just for the
stories.
Either way, Spartanburg has made an impact on me and on my work.
My work in this show is dedicated to Christopher Plakas (my brother)
and Naima Plakas (my niece). They never got to come to South Carolina
while I was here. I have thought about them a lot in the past year.
There always seemed to be a lot of differences between he and I. I
realized while I was here they don't matter. Chris is an artist too just in a different way. My time here left me wishing more people kept
it real the way he does. I plan on being Naimaís first art teacher.
Emily L. Smith, Poetry
I've always stored the world in fragmentsógestures, smells, colors,
images. As a result, my poetry is heavily image-driven. I want the
reader to walk around in the poemís stanzas (or little rooms), to touch
and feel his way through the space of the poem. Spartanburg has
provided a wellspring of images. Across the street, an old silo rises
into blue, and birds dot the power lines like music notes on a staff.
Swifts circle the BB&T building, casting themselves like nets into
the sky.
Although I designed books before arriving in Spartanburg, I had, until
now, only worked in desktop publishing. I had never seen anything like
Brianís handcrafted art books. After a little coaching and weeks of
research, I felt confident enough to try relief printing. I drew
directly on linoleum blocks, and then carved around the images.
Finally, I inked the resulting raised surfaces, pressed paper on top,
and rubbed with the back of my grandmotherís old wooden spoon. I got
better with each try. I look back now at my first cut of a mouse and
think how simple it looks next to my final block, a boy waving his hand
in front of a flashlight. When I found him in a 1960s childrens
encyclopedia, he instantly charmed me. Flashlights turn up in two of my
poems. In ìSmall Hours,î the line reads, He brought a flashlight and
carried it through me. At the time I wrote it, the line referenced a
new relationship, the feeling of someone just beginning to really see
me. Here at the end of the residency, the image represents, I think,
something even biggeróa year of illuminated corners and crevices,
talking, listening, thinking, making, a year for prying open
painted-shut windows. Different people carried the flashlight
throughout the yearóthe three artists, of course, but also friends at
Hub City/Hub-Bub, fellow artists and writers in this community. Theyíve
challenged me to discover hidden talents, to think of myself as an
artist, too. I realize now, weíre all artists; weíve chosen lives of
creativity, chosen to absorb the world around us, live with it, and
then pour it back out again, in any medium we can.
Iíve loved making this chapbook, through tedious hours and abandoned
carvings, blisters, and needle pricks. The sixteen ìSpartanburg poemsî
will likely never exist in this form again. Iíll continue writing, and
over time, along with pre and post residency poems, they will find
their way into revised and new poetry manuscripts.
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