Underground

Collaborating on a project was, once again, wonderful. The process was challenging, and somewhat frustrating at the start, but that made the successful result more satisfying. I feel we all got what we wanted from the piece: I got to paint, my friend got to do more conceptual body “prints” (created with East LA dirt), a third friend suggested the initial "Home Depot" idea… and the final product was bigger than all the parts.
The magazine loved it (but they said they loved everyone’s work… very encouraging guys).
For my part, I had a great painting day, where everything flowed like magic out of my brushes. I finished the entire triptych in about four hours. Rather, four hours plus 25 years of painting…

1 Day of Art LA

Am participating in a 24 hour project with about 15 other artists for (t)here magazine. We all met last night to be interviewed and pick topics out of a hat.
I’m doing the work with a close friend I’ve been collaborating with for years. We picked “underground.”
Which caused us about four hours of panic.
We’re not exactly participants of underground culture, and does it even exist in LA, where everyone’s privacy is displayed on reality tv? Thought about digging holes to see what we could find, but we wanted to make craft as well as do something smart conceptually.
Of course, it was our choice to add difficulty—the time-based surprise plus working in partnership.
Late last night we settled on underground labor. Shot photos today, photoshopped them, drew, painted, conducted interviews… work continues… sort of fun!

No Confidence, or at least, Not Enough

I’m having some success writing proposals for exhibitions for groups of people. Maybe I have more confidence when I’m not the only artist, or maybe I write stronger concepts pieces for my colleagues.
I’m not having much luck getting accepted to show my work on its own. It’s frustrating, but I’ll just have to keep on trying. I know figuration is not popular in my little corner of the world, especially in the academic arena and the “high art” gallery scene.
I’ve heard rumors that a young friend, who hired a publicist to promote her work six months ago, has lined up a studio visit for the curator of one of the best galleries in town, a gallery I would not dream of approaching cold. I have to wonder, how much would I spend/invest to get such an interview? (Which doesn’t mean I’d be picked up by this gallery, whose stable has very few figurative artists.) I'm wishing my friend luck.
OK, am hanging in LA this weekend. And doing a 24 hour project for (t)here Magazine. Should be exciting.
Photo of Anna Zappoli Jenkins, working on Edgeware Gallery wall.

Spreading Pain

As you know, I’ve been complaining loudly about how college students and adjunct professors are faring in California’s disastrous economy. One dean called upper-division courses “boutique,” as in, “we are eliminating our boutique classes” such as life drawing, printmaking, advanced anything, and art history that doesn’t cover at least 500 years.
That’s not college, that’s high school continued.
I haven’t considered the tenured faculty much. After all, they can’t be fired. Yes, they’re on furlough, getting 10% less pay while working at least 20% harder. I’ve still thought I’d trade with them, any day.
But I’m starting to hear about how devastated many full-profs are. Some have spent entire careers building up fields of study that have been axed totally. They can’t teach their specialty or anything near it. They have to fire their friends, and deal with furious students and parents.
At least we out-of-work adjuncts can use our “free” time to consider our next career moves, and get the hell out of academia.
I’m starting to sympathize.

Naked Ladies

Saw this at Fahey/Klein gallery on La Brea. Rasmus Mogensen's "Perfectly Natural" photo exhibit of very tall, thin models, made taller and thinner by Photoshop, was perplexing. How should a feminist react? The artist didn’t hide the fact they were creations, and monstrous, but many in the opening crowd didn’t seem to understand them as altered. We are so used to seeing the supermodel image, we accept it as fact, although unreachable.
After looking at the huge prints for a while, and not feeling outraged or intimidated, I decided they were so foreign that they had become objects to worship. These were not to be hidden in the bathroom or bedroom, but displayed in modern living rooms or above the brave boardroom table. The angle from which they were shot, the smoothness of the skin, the impossibility of their existence, made the women strange angels.
The next show I’m curating will be “Women by Women.” I want to explore a specific vision of womenhood in Southern California. Do we buy into the perfect form because we are surrounded by it? Do we rebel against it? As third-wave feminists, can we embrace the erotic while not commodifying it?

Happy Halloween

We had a relaxing "last day of summer," shelling at the beach, making a scarecrow, and scaring little kids during our trick-or-treat marathon.
Remember your dead tomorrow, or else…

Mountains and Valleys

I’m showing my work a lot these days. Small one-night shows, big shows, dealers, students, plodding public, enthusiastic friends. I’m in a gallery exhibition opening tomorrow night, an installation of my grandmother’s pink lace dress with paintings of me wearing it. Am showing the Greek work in LA. Someone is coming to see my new series tomorrow in my studio.
Still, nothing sells. No one, anywhere, is buying.
I was accepted to a small show yesterday, but my application for a more respectable venue was rejected today. It’s the problem of figuration—still not OK for a serious gallery to deal with the body in SoCal. I don’t know what to do about this. I can’t really paint what is fashionable, or be a conceptual artist and feel fulfilled.
Anyway, last weekend at the big ArtWalk I got lots of comments about my work, people seemed to respond and be curious. Need to follow up on a few cards. Another day. Have houseguests from Austria and Italy here, am busy making coffee and pouring wine. They seem to think I live some kind of charmed life, when I know better.

Transport Me Back to Istanbul, Not Constantinople

Gotta sick kid (even the slightest cough is not welcome in the schools right now), so spent the day making chicken soup, driving around, and getting not much done.
Feel like transporting to a beautiful place: my friend’s five story Armenian house on the European side in one of the liveliest neighborhoods of Istanbul. It’s all made of wood, completely restored, with a spiral staircase down the center. From the top floor you can see the Golden Horn. She’s filled it with love, 10 cats, one dog and turtles we were unable to locate.
My friend is also having a well-deserved and unexpected success as a fashion designer in Second Life. In other words, she’s selling “clothes” for avatars that exist only in cyber space. Amazing.

Another Californian on Higher Ed

I was sent a link to this blog and thought my readers might like more insight into what’s happening to higher education in California. It’s not just the arts that are so badly slashed. I predict it will soon take the average student eight to ten years to get a “four-year” degree (currently it takes about six years to get through the Cal State system). The crazy thing is, it will be cheaper to go to private schools at this rate.
Parents and students, revolt!
Strange painting by Edouard Vuillard at the Met.

Me, Not Me, Me

I know this blog seems so much about my small life and concerns. Artists are typically egocentric, and shy Kloe is no exception. If you don’t self-promote, nothing will happen and no one will notice you or your work.
So after a weekend of talking nothing except about myself and my work, I need to dig a hole and cover myself with cool dirt, maybe grow something, maybe paint, maybe do some good deeds.
Piece of decoration from Pergamon, 2000 years old, give or take.