Swirls

I've been playing with the 'Swirls' series for several years The first public version of it was done for an event in Boston.

This version is placing the Swirls within the Trails series. For scale look for me- the white dot near the mid right.

This one wasn't ready for prime time, but was a good idea- mashing up the Swirls with the Substructures series in which there are layers of pattern.

This is my most recent in the Swirls series.

Trail

I've been engaging the idea of 'Trails' for many years. It began when I was spending time in Mexico on a stretch of coast that had very narrow beaches. I did several attempts at working with the limitations of the location- the way that the dynamics of the water and land created alternating areas of high and low sand with the low having more space, staying wetter longer, and the high having less area wet, which dried out more quickly. It wasn't until I came across a rendering of the Aztec snake god that I found a way to meaningfully engage the beach, accessing the various changes in width of beach to work with with this undulating version of an Aztec snake

That started a journey of exploring the idea of a long, winding path. In this version I deconstructed the winding trail as though the canvas had been fractured and rearranged.

Here I was exploring the 'Glyphs' series in which I developed a set of characters that acted as a sort of alphabet, which evolved into a set of possible arrangements using a 5x5 grid. I placed these design symbols into the trail concept as a long, winding path of glyphs in which the top and bottom mirrored. This one was done on a narrow strip of land that was the tail end of a long finger of the edge of a bay along the Eastern side of Cape Cod. I should tell that story some time.

Cars and dogs are my nemeses. Dogs rip up the beach when they run, slide out, and dig. And cars leave unbroken, parallel lines that look like unmistakeable encroachment of modernity. I've occasionally had to run to head off an oncoming park ranger or lifeguard. Once I arrived at a perfect, small cove just as a ranger truck rounded the bend and drove loops on it. 

However, upon closer inspection the tracks have a compelling quality. The treads of the tires left behind patterned grooves in the sand that had a compelling quality. I spent a bit of time deconstructing the patterns from various models of tire. I tried doing a piece in which there were treads of different patterns crossing the beach. If I can locate it, I will place it here. 

[photo of 'Treads']

 

While traveling in New Zealand, if the beach were accessible by car then there would be tire tracks on it. That was sometimes disappointing. I  seemed like the tracks were symbols of humanity and it occurred to me humanity had left its tracks all over the world. There are few places that humans have not left tracks of their presence- even if indirectly. 

Well, no need to dwell on the negative aspect of that thought. Where it did send me was thinking about was how every culture leaves its unique imprint upon its environment. I thought about the tire tracks as anexpression of the local culture, which had me think about traditional art motifs as being the patterns within the track. This led to many explorations of the concept including this one while in NZ, an experience that also warrants writing about.

After returning home I did another version of a Maori-inspired trail, which I am quite pleased with. For scale, you can see me about the center as a black dot.

This one was a step beyond the discrete glyph components. I used the grid upon which the glyphs formed to create more complex arrangements.

In this one of a glyph trail I incorporated the varying line thickness of a piece I call Ribbons (a whole other line of development) to give the feeling that the line was undulating in multiple dimensions)

This Too Shall Pass

This piece speaks for itself on multiple levels. It wasn't until I had been doing this art on the beach for several years that its impermanent nature began to have an impact on me and my life. I never set out to create temporary art, though much of my art career had been spent setting up installations for dance parties that would generally last only the night. But I held on to the frames and materials and so my creations could be reformulated or setup exactly the same on a different occasion. 

But once I began creating art at the beach, I immediately had to contend with their impermanence. This didn't faze me- the act of working on the art was the reward and it became a challenge to race the tide in making my works. 

But at a certain point the deeper understanding of impermanence began to penetrate my bones. How I was experiencing life in any particular moment became important. The ground layer of living came more into focus. Fully feeling that all things change, that all things will pass had me more present to the experience transpiring. This is exemplified in my relationship with my son for whom I have deprioritized most other things in my life in order to be part of his life as much as possible in the time he is with me.

Nothing will last- neither the pleasure nor the pain. Hopefully this awareness can give you strength during the tough times, and linger move fully in the good times.

Pari Ana Te Tai

In 2016 I spent 3 months in New Zealand traveling around the coast of the north island with my wife and then 2 year old boy. I did art wherever I could and was able to generate a couple of collaborations with Maori artists, which were the highlight of the trip.

When I go to a new country I like to research their traditional arts. I was struck by the complexity, depth and stylization of the Maori arts. I made several attempts at creating something based on what I was learning, but I realized that my efforts were falling far short, and that I was essentially 'taking' Maori art without putting in the time the craft required. 

One of the things I love about Maori art comes from the tattoo craft. When designing a tattoo for someone, the artist listens to their story- their family lineage, their family members, significant events in their life, where they are from, and so forth. Then, they develop a design that includes these elements while maintaining the traditional elements that unite all of the traditional crafts. And they do this in a way that directly and specifically works with the portion of the body where the tattoo will be placed. The first thing you notice when seeing a Maori (or other Polynesian) tattoo, is how well it works with the body- the curves of the chest, shoulder, or hip. The other layers aren't apparent until you can be taught their meaning, though the depth and complexity of the design is very clear from the first glance.

So I went in 2 directions. One was to let go of creating something that had any feel of authenticity and simply go with the inspiration I was receiving. That resulted in pieces like this (for scale look for the blueish-black dot just left of center):

The other direction was to look for opportunities for collaboration. I realized that there were far more capable artists who would do a much better job at what I was envisioning but would never be able to do myself. When I arrived at Mt Manganui (literally translated Mt. Mountain(!)), I took a drone photo of the beach at its base. Through a friend I got connected with an amazing traditional artist- someone who carves bone and wood. After telling him my intention, he decided to connect me with a man who lives in the Manganui area as it would be more respectful, and indeed authentic. The Maori are fiercely connected to their land. One of the ways they identify themselves to others is through the area they come from- the natural landforms of their tribal area. 

I  found the artist, who was working as a bar tender. I told him my story and handed him a printout of the beach from the aerial perspective. he immediately began drawing and we made a plan to meet the next day at dawn to recreate his work. My role was to keep the design tight and to maintain consistency, but otherwise allowed the artist and his brother to take the reins. Well, that day things were not in our favor- the design was off in many ways and the tide returned sooner than anticipated. So we determined to try again the following day. I gave my critiques of the work so we could focus on making the next version better. 

And wow, did the next attempt strike a homerun!  Every time I look at this artwork I am blown away. It tells the story of his people in symbols- the basket weave of the tail, the heartline and waves, the shellfish that he wanted people to know were being lost in the dredging of the bay channel. 

Through this creation I felt connected to the artists, to the Maori spirit, and to this amazing beach and mountain. Truly a special project that has me feeling complete.

Disc @ Greyhound Rock

 

This piece is working with the grid technique discussed in Disc II and it is incorporating design elements from  Maori artwork as discussed in Pari Ana Te Tai. 

This area of the California coast is one I hadn't explored much. There are many pullouts with trails to the beach and one day while traveling with my camper on an overcast, somewhat drizzly day, I decided to see what this beach had to offer. 

Well, there wasn't much space to work with, but after some consideration I decided to have the design partially submerged (that's how I think about designs that merge with features of the beach- as though the design was prior to the landform that has been encroaching on the artwork over the millennia.) 

Part way through working, the dark patchy clouds let loose, and within minutes I was soaked. I retreated to my camper, changed clothes, and had some lunch. As I was sitting in the parking area considering my next move, the rain lessened and then stopped. I decided to see what was left of the artwork, and surprisingly, there was plenty still there. So...I kept going. 

I finished and was taking my photos when the clouds parted for a spell giving this dramatic scene. 

The lesson I took from this day is a reflection of how much work goes into my successes. My goal when I go out to create an artwork is a photo that can be a print that someone would want to place on their wall. That requires so much to go right- the design worthy and not still needing further development, a cooperating beach and ocean (I can never take for granted local conditions or the impacts of regional events like storms. Overnight a favorite beach lost all of its sand!), good lighting or better yet a good sunset in which the sun is not obscured by ocean clouds. So for every design that is worthy of becoming a print, there are many many more that almost made it but lacked something. What I realized is that in order to get the good images, I must be willing to brave the potential of it not working out. I was ready to write this day off due to rain, but because I braved it at first and then went back out after being chased off, I was given this image as a reward. It recontextualizes the 'failures'- the times things did not turn out right for whatever reason. It's as though there must be a certain percentage sacrificed to the gods of art in order to be rewarded.

The design itself comes from design elements I picked up while traveling and working in New Zealand. I was very influenced by the Maori design aesthetic, which I explored extensively for a few years. 

Here are two other pieces inspired by the time in Aotearoa (what the Maori call NZ).

This was done during a workshop. 

Sun

 

'Sun' is another variation that uses the circular grid, as discussed in the entry on Disc II.

It was done at an unusual location, near the outlet of a lagoon just before it joins the ocean. This patch of sand expands or shrinks according to the size of the lagoon and the height of the tide. This day was particular spacious and clean (sometimes it can be quite mucky). 

One thing that stood out for this creation was that I was joined by an elephant seal who watched me work. He/She (?) is the larger lump near the upper right corner. There is a very faint marring of the sand diagonally to the upper left where the seal dragged itself out of the water. I kept a an eye on the large beast as I worked- do not mess around with an elephant seal! But the most the seal did was lift its head above its sausage body and watch me.

Flow

I consider 'Flow' to be among my favorite works. It was also among the hardest. Not the hardest technically. What made it hard was keeping the lines smooth and flowing over such a large area. I did another version of this design the following day with a slightly different fill. 

It did not work out- in a couple of spots the curves did not feel right. In particular the largest curving form has a few curves that are a bit too steep. It throws the whole design off. 

My inspiration for the design was a book of Japanese brushwork. I wanted to replicate the feeling of brushwork flowing water. I used a previous aerial photo of the area to develop the design, having it weave amongst the boulders on the beach, making it feel as though the artwork were interacting with, or at least responding to, the physicality of the beach. 

But when working over such a large area, walking hundreds of feet in a gentle curving motion, my only guides were the features of the beach and the other lines far from me. The flowing curves of the photo make me think of an actor who seems to actually be having an experience, only to find out they had to replicate the act multiple times in front of a large crew under strange circumstances. I mean to say that 'Flow' was articifial- there was no real flow in the making of it. Yes, each curve has its flow, and I was able to get the various curves to flow together to feel unified as part of the same movement of something, but it was an act of technical skill and body sense. I feel lucky to have pulled off and captured this design as nicely as I did. 

So from both an aesthetic and technical work, this is among my favorites.