Other People Are Artists, Too

Posted on June 9, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

I know I live in an art bubble. Most of the time I’m thinking about art, or making art, or talking about art. But lately I have lifted my head from the microscope, looked at the world around me, and realized why the word “arts” is plural. There are SO many ways to create.

Terrence Mann as Charlemagne, and Matthew James Thomas as his son Pippin

Like: the Dramatic Arts. A couple of weeks ago I saw the current version of MacBeth that is playing on Broadway starring Alan Cumming. He plays 95% of the parts himself, and it all takes place in an insane asylum. It’s an amazing tour de force, frightening, mesmerizing, and often quite funny. I also saw the new revival of Pippin, a musical that I loved (twice) as a teenager. This is the first time the show has been reintroduced on Broadway, and if Terrence Mann weren’t reason enough to go (which he is) it is a wonderful production with dazzling dancing, singing, and circus acts. Some people think the story is a little thin, but either I’m very shallow or they’re missing the real universal appeal and poignancy of Pippin’s search for his identity amid the spectacle and laughter. The story has stuck with me for decades, and I was not disappointed with the new iteration. (Tony Awards on t.v. tonight at 8. Hope what I like wins!)

Alan Cumming as MacBeth…

and signing autographs after a performance

The Musical Arts: my nephew Troy is enrolled at the Clive Davis School of Music at NYU, studying music production. But he is also in a great band, Cheap Blue Yonder that you can often catch playing venues in Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn. I love their song Picnic, and love that kids (young men!) whom I know can create such energy and pleasure out of thin air – and years of practice. Listen to the song on their website: http://cheapblueyonder.bandcamp.com.

Cheap Blue Yonder

I think that’s what makes the arts so miraculous to me. Humans create brand new experiences, objects, and spectacles with their brains and hands. No one can make someone else’s art. Each person, each artist, is unique. What he makes carries a little piece of his soul, even if he’s reading from another artist’s script. My day job is in finance. And I certainly don’t mean to say that business, the sciences, or other fields are without creativity. But I’m not sure that they create joy or reward it.

Arts and Crafts: Last week I went to my usual yarn store to get what I needed for my current project (hint: it’s orange, so you’ll recognize it when I wear it). And for once I walked past the front doors of Lion Brand Yarn on West 15th Street and looked in their front window. The window display of an undersea kingdom is absolutely stunning. I can’t imagine how long it must have taken for the Lion Brand employees to knit it and put it together. If you look at their website or Google Images, you can see lots of their window displays. What’s amazing is that they are created entirely from yarn. But they are still art.

The window display from March 2012 at Lion Brand Yarn on 15th Street, west of Fifth

Yesterday I took a walking tour of the Flatiron District and Gramercy Park to look at the architecture and especially the gargoyles that decorate so many of the buildings. Those are carved gargoyles, not cast. They reminded me of the tradition of European Cathedral builders, taking centuries and generations of craftsmen to finish their work – just like St. John the Divine, here in Manhattan, which was started in 1892 and is still under construction. They also reminded me of a wonderful drawing course I took as an undergraduate at Lyme Academy, in which I learned to draw gargoyles and lions’ heads and acanthus leaves and egg and dart moldings. It was taught by the amazing Randy Melick. Thanks to him I can do justice to the stone carvings which surround me here in Chelsea.

Thanks, Randy, for teaching me how to draw.

And with that, my head is back in the art cloud.

Am I a New Yorker Yet?

Posted on June 5, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

I now own four black skirts, four black tee shirts, three black sweaters, five pairs of black pants, seven pairs of black shoes, and two black messenger bags. When I arrived a year ago I’m pretty sure I was wearing pink.

I do most of my furniture shopping on the sidewalk the night before trash collection.

Sidewalk Treasure

Also much of my art supply shopping.

The last time I ate at a friend’s house, there were eight of us: two Americans, two from China, two Brazilians, one Argentinian, and one from Paris/Brazil/the Bronx. Dinner conversation was in five languages, I only understand one and a half of them, and I had a great time.

If the subway doesn’t go there, I walk.

Looking East from my roof

My local convenient store is owned by a nice Pakistani man and his grown son. There is a 7-Eleven two doors closer. Why would I go there? My hardware store is also family owned. They scream at each other and I find that comforting. I can barely squeeze through the aisles. They must be violating 27 fire department codes. I don’t care. They have the best drain cleaner for $5.

I’ve realized that I don’t, in fact, live alone. I live with family. They’re called doormen.

My apartment is about 400 square feet. I’m wondering if it’s not a little too big for me.

The view from my apartment

I’ve given up on Whole Foods and have embraced Trader Joe’s. (Except for Diet Coke and peanut butter. Then I’m off to Gristede’s.)

I think New Yorkers are really nice people – caring, eager for conversation and connection, and generally quite polite.

Back to Work

Posted on May 31, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

Wayne Thiebaud
Rabbit

It’s time. I’ve been pretending to work since school finished a month ago. And yes, I’ve bought the supplies I need for my next project(s) and made some sketches, but my brain just wasn’t ready to start. However tomorrow is June first and I promised myself that I would be really up and running, up and at ’em, nose to the grindstone (insert your own cliche here) before month’s end.

Wayne Thiebaud
Shoe Rows

I was thinking yesterday about teaching art, which I hope to do someday, and I made up an exercise for my (imaginary class). I would make all of my students (it’s a large class because I am a very popular teacher) stand in a circle around me. And I would spin dramatically, throw out an accusatory finger at someone, and say, “Who is your favorite artist and why?”

Wayne Thiebaud, now in his 90s, and still painting

If you did that to me, I’m pretty sure that I would say Wayne Thiebaud. Some artists I won’t cross town to see, but for Wayne Thiebaud I would go anywhere. It’s his color, his combination of reality and fantasy, his amazing brushstrokes, and the way my heart stops for a moment when I see those landscapes (I call it an artgasm, but sadly I didn’t make that up). So I’m posting some of my favorites here, as inspiration.

I love these blue shadows!

And I’m off to the studio, after a quick trip to buy my lottery tickets: Powerball, Lotto, and Megamillions. SO many of my friends are rooting for me to win, but don’t buy tickets themselves. They are clearly smarter than I.

Wayne Thiebaud
Around the Cake

Thank you Susan Stephenson (a wonderful teacher) for introducing me to Wayne Thiebaud. By the time you read this I’ll be painting. But my question to you is, “Who is your favorite artist and why?”

Wayne Thiebaud
Black Shoes

I won! I won!

Posted on May 26, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

My art school classmates know that I have a grand plan for post-graduation: buy a large tenement and convert it to artist’s apartments and studios, including a wonderful gallery space, a store for our handmade crafts, and room for all of us to stay together FOREVER. Making art in isolation is depressing, and we have developed a good working dynamic among ourselves that is supportive, yet honest, and owes a lot to our Department Chairman, David Shirey, who insisted we really get to know one another.

Torpedo Gallery Floor Plan
Alexandria, Virginia

The only problem with my plan? I’m short about $12 million dollars. So… I’ve taken to saying that after I win the lottery I will proceed with our art Borg colony cult project.

Well, this morning I won the lottery. $28. And clearly I need to be a little more specific about what I mean when I say I need to win the lottery. If I won $60 million, the current value would be about $37 million, and then I would owe at least half in taxes, which would leave me with about $15 million (which includes a 25% cushion for cost overruns on the $12 million project).

For the year I have won $32 dollars. Which leaves me only $11,999,968 to go. Don’t ask me how much I have spent on lottery tickets. THAT’S NOT HOW THE LOTTERY WORKS. In order to play the lottery successfully, every time you buy a ticket and say goodbye to your dollar, you must silently tell yourself that that specific dollar was about to be ripped out of your hand by a strong wind and blown down into the subway, through the sidewalk grates, to land on the third rail. You can’t net out wins and losses. Everything you pay out to buy lottery tickets must be considered found money. Therefore your winnings are pure profit.

Artists: forget about the cost of your materials. Forget that you desperately need to sell SOMETHING. Forget the uncertainty that waits just around the corner (like at graduation). Ignore logic and believe in yourself. Whatever you’re hoping for, it can happen.

I know that my chances of ending up with $12 million are terrible. Miserable. Almost, BUT NOT QUITE, zero.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers-

That perches in the soul-

And sings the tune without the words-

And never stops-at all-

And sweetest-in the Gale-is heard-

And sore must be the storm-

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm-

I’ve heard it on the chillest land-

And on the strangest Sea-

Yet, never, in Extremity,

It asked a crumb-of Me.

– Emily Dickinson, #254

Hope is what carries us when the odds and the facts are against us. It’s free and yet so valuable. Today might be the day the world is full of magic.

Dear Diary

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

I have a terrible cold. I blame everyone who lives in New York, or has passed through in the last week. Also everyone in Connecticut, where I spent the weekend visiting friends and seeing my mother for Mother’s Day. Whoever did this to me, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

During my brief Sudafed windows I have gone to my studio. I’ve been thinking about what to start making now that my Spring term is over. These are potentially the works that will make up my Thesis Show next January. So like a little squirrel, I sneak into SVA and drop off props and supplies ($100 for a block of hot-pressed paper – kill me now) like little acorn trophies. And then sneak out again.

I have been to the grocery store and the drug store. Briefly. I’m sorry, World, but a cold is not a good enough reason for me to starve to death. However I took strong measures (hand sanitizer) and didn’t touch anything that I wasn’t going to keep. And I kept my head averted and spoke as little as possible because I sound like I’ve been swallowing swords. This plague ends with me!

I’m using up tissues at an alarming rate, while reminding myself each time I touch one that I can’t give myself the cold I already have. I watched a Property Brothers marathon on HGTV yesterday and wondered why the house I most wanted to live in was furnished with Salvation Army rehabbed pieces (gorgeous fabric from 40s dishtowels) while my apartment is black and white, sleek and Mies. Who AM I?

I have a new knitting project, so complicated that no one will ever find my mistakes. And I’m working on making 1000 origami cranes (I sort of know the story, it doesn’t matter, I’m just keeping my hands busy between sneezes). So far I have 14.

I am even contemplating updating my art scrapbook, in which I keep track of the various stages of the work I’m making. I’m not sure if it’s for posterity, or just for my pending senility, but it was required when I was a senior at Lyme Academy and I’ve kept the habit. Scrapbooking. The very word screams desperation.

It is day four of my cold. Day One was the horrible sore throat. Day Two was the transition between throat and abundant snot. Day Three was sneezing and coughing. Day Four: am I starting to get better, or am I just overdosing on cold medication?

There is so much work I should be doing, but my neurons are having a little trouble firing through the congestion in my head. Luckily a cold is like a power outage. It is inconvenient and habit-changing, and the minute it’s over we quickly give thanks and forget it ever happened.

No More Teachers, No More Books

Posted on April 30, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

Well, not exactly, since I’m planning on taking a Summer course that starts in a month. Plus, I’m going to miss my teachers and my books. Hmmm, maybe I should start over….

Today is the last official day of the semester, although we MFA candidates were finished on Saturday night with the end of Open Studios. We had a good crowd, especially for our opening on Thursday. Thank you to everyone who came.

Since my family was unable to attend, I am using photos of my studio here to give them an idea of the work I did this term. If you’ve already seen it, scroll on by, and congratulations on a term well done.

The Drawing Center

Posted on April 20, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

On Wednesday I was lucky enough to receive a studio visit from curator Joanna Kleinberg Romanow of The Drawing Center (35 Wooster Street in Soho – www.drawingcenter.org).

Giosetta Fioroni

During our visit, Mrs. Romanow was insistent that I come to The Drawing Center to see their new show: L’Argento (Silver) by Italian artist Giosetta Fioroni. So this morning I headed out and arrived as the doors opened at noon. It is an exciting, exquisite exhibition that made me appreciate the mastery that hides behind the appearance of simplicity. Compared to these drawings, mine feel overworked and over thought. Compared to these drawings, EVERYONE’s feel overworked and over thought. They are sublime.

This is a focused survey of works made in the 1960s, but some of Ms. Fioroni’s childhood work is on display, as well as some of the more abstract work that she began to make in the 1970s. It is interesting to note that both of her parents were artists, thus providing her with a very precocious start, plus nature AND nurture. Her gift was evident early on.

The show is open through June 2nd and The Drawing Center is very easy to reach by subway. Do yourself a favor and go savor it.

I have spent most of this semester drawing rather than painting, and experimenting with left-handed self-portraits and silk-screening, so Mrs. Romanow’s thoughtful and positive critique of my work boosted my confidence as I head into the last week of the semester. If you’re in the city, come visit the SVA MFA Program’s Open Studios at 133-141 West 21st Street, floors 8-9. We open Thursday at 5:00 and Friday and Saturday at noon. http://public.sva.edu/evite/openstudios/

Ten Days and Counting

Posted on April 15, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

Ten days from today is my last (actually my only) final exam and the first day of this term’s Open Studios. (invitation: http://public.sva.edu/evite/openstudios/) Then my first year as an MFA candidate will be over. One more year to go. And will I have mastered the issues I’m struggling with in my art? Will I have gotten any teaching or writing job offers? Will I have managed to get rid of the growing pile of old art that sits in the middle of my small living room like a post-modern tepee? I’m tempted to burn it, but I’d have to move my sofa and disable the sprinkler system and prepare for the fire department to arrest me… well, you see why the pile is growing.

Jiwon Choi, BFA Fine Arts
Infinity as Dots, Black
Infinity as Dots, White

My first year has been frustrating, exasperating, exhilarating, and did I mention frustrating? I have not taken up drinking or smoking, but my language is admittedly saltier than when I first got here. And sometimes I write it on the walls of my studio. In big black letters. My teachers push me hard to change what I’m doing. It’s their job, and I appreciate the creative ways they torture me. (More salty language.) It’s time to take what I’ve learned this year and begin to plan the work I’ll make for my MFA exhibition and my written thesis. Time is fleeting. (Does that make you think of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, or is that just me? Is there a thesis topic hidden in there somewhere? No. No. Stop it.)

Boyoun Kim, BFA Fine Arts, Printmaking
Secret Pleasure

Boyoun Kim,
BFA Fine Arts, Printmaking
Summer

So the long explanation of why my blog posts have gotten a teensy bit scarce is that I’m busy biting my fingernails and getting ready for the term end. In addition to my exam, I have two group critiques, term review by two strangers, and three days of sitting in my studio trying not to scare off the art-lookers who wander by. They would really rather look in my studio when I’m not there, but what if one of them wants a conversation? What if one of them is a curator? Conundrum. Maybe I’ll just loiter in the hallway as if I am a civilian and then pounce if they look interested. That wouldn’t be creepy at all.

Michael Lee, BFA Fine Arts
Castillo

But in the middle of anguish, there is always art. Especially in New York. Yesterday as I was headed into my studio building I noticed two new exhibitions on the ground floor. Both were by undergraduates. One was posters of movies made by the students in the digital art department. And the other was a beautifully curated small show of BFA students from several different departments.

Ting Yu Tsai
Interior Design
Model

Deep breath. Look at the art. Admire the creativity. Remember why I’m here. And don’t lose my day job.

Fear and Innovation

Posted on March 30, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

ShinYoung Park

On Thursday, during our first-year Seminar class with Department Chair David Shirey, classmate ShinYoung Park played two avant-garde songs for us on his guitar. He explained that most guitarists gain skill through practice and then are unwilling to innovate because they’re proud of their proficiency. His playing included hitting the box of the guitar to add percussion, and picking out the melody on the neck with his left hand while his right hand damped the strings instead of strumming them.

The parallels to making art are obvious. We artists gain skill and proficiency with certain techniques and then are afraid to try new ones for fear of failing. Successful artists get boxed in to styles that sell, and galleries don’t encourage experimentation if they’re making money.

Piet Mondrian
Windmill, 1905

Piet Mondrian
Broadway Boogie Woogie, 1942-43

But fearless artists let go of what they have in order to grasp something new. And when we look back at art-historical game changers, we probably don’t give them enough credit for overcoming the fear they must have faced. After all, from where we sit all we see is success. But we should remember the personal courage that is necessary to create innovation, and try to incorporate bravery into our art practice. Me as much as anyone. Maybe more.

Marcel Duchamp
Portrait of the Artist’s Father, 1910

Marcel Duchamp,
The Large Glass, 1915-23

Happy Art!

Posted on March 20, 2013 by Elizabeth Cook

Julia, Rachel, and Tiffany at the craft table

All it took to make our first magical-return-to-childhood-crafts-night was cardboard picture frames, gaudy spray paint, glitter, macaroni, pompoms, and feathers. We spread plastic sheeting and newspapers and then got busy. For two hours or so we laughed and inhaled fumes and promised each other that we would always stick together.

Julia, Tiffany, Rachel, and George, hard at work

We had to explain to our foreign classmates that macaroni picture frames are an American tradition, even while we tried to figure out why. And we had to reinforce the idea that when we make happy childhood crafts, there is no wrong approach. Everyone wins. Everyone gets an A.

ShinYoung, hoping his glue is drying

Some of us made showy Vegas frames while others created Baroque masterpieces. Some of us went “less is more” while most of us piled on the colors and the textures and waited impatiently for the Elmer’s to dry.

Julia’s Masterpieces
(photo by Julia Buntaine)

The glitter stuck to our hands while we debated holding a cardboard-picture-frame gallery exhibition. And the whole time we were having fun we weren’t sad, and we weren’t anxious, and the satisfaction was in the making – not in the being appreciated for it afterward.

Tiffany, Rachel, George, me, (and Graciela’s head) making “magical-return-to-childhood-crafts” (photo by Julia Buntaine)

We proved that it is possible to create joy from thin air and a few bow-tie pasta (Farfalle!). Next time, it was agreed, it will be popsicle sticks and yarn. Join us and, if you’re lucky, remember when you were very young and things had not yet started to go wrong.

the least untrue / elizabeth cook

"Of all lies, art is the least untrue." -Gustave Flaubert

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