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On June 1st, 2006 we welcomed Justin, Leah, Emily, and Brian to the
brand new Hub-Bub Building to "Live Free and Create" as part of our
first "class" of artists-in-residents. This exhibit represent the work that was created during their time here.
Exhibit opening: March 21, 7:00pm. Emily's reading: 8:00pm.
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.
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.
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 donít matter. Chris is an artist tooÖ 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.
Iíve 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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