Romantic

A major theme of my practice in 2025 has been trying new things. That’s been a great experience and is also the broader context for this weekend’s essay. A bit more specifically is that, over the last month, I’ve been working on an installation piece using some materials (video!) and strategies (staining!) that are new for me.

I teamed up with Ariana Gomez who is one of the members of ICOSA in Austin to produce work for a two collaborative show full of two-person collaborations (yes, Tiger Strikes Asteroid is the other half of the endeavor). The exhibit will be titled Party Line; more on the show below, and if you guessed it’s a reference to shared telephone service you’d be correct.

The title of the piece Ariana and I have made is Nostalgia, which is a topic I’ve written about before. Our intent is very similar to what I expressed in that essay- that nostalgia can be a lie. At least it is in any case when one leans into a belief that some other time in our history was better or preferable to where we find ourselves today- its definition is “a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations”(*).

The piece itself is not “romantic.” Romantic like most English words has many meanings. There are two usages to which I am pointing. Firstly, towards any sort of romantic view or conception of (a) person, place or thing, which is unrealistic in the sense that the notion of it is bigger or better or just more exciting than the reality that person, place or thing can, objectively, be shown to be. It’s a cousin to nostalgia. I think in a Venn diagram, nostalgia is the smaller circle.

Secondly and perhaps more obviously to you my readers who love Art with a capital “A,” “Romantic” with a capital “R” has a specific meaning in the Arts as well. According to Wikipedia, Romanticists rejected the social conventions of the time in favour of a moral outlook known as individualism. A true Romantic would say “yes, yes I am focusing on only the wonderful, dreamy emotions I have about an idea, or a person, place or thing, because it’s my individual prerogative, dang it.” No, now that I’ve typed it three times I can’t stop singing it either.

I have a romantic streak, which figured strongly in why the young, idealistic version of Sterling first uttered the phrase “I am an Artist!” at some point in undergrad. Being raised on rugged Americanism in a small town and first digesting abstract painting vis’a’vis the hyper-individualism of AbEx (which you can critique if you like- I certainly have) was no doubt positive feedback, though I’m unsure of which was chicken or egg. I really don’t think I’m alone- in being romantic- and I bet more than less of you readers have described what Artists “are” or “do” in broad, romantic generalities. And while I said nostalgia is a “lie” up above I’ll suggest that maybe we can spend a minute or two on the nature of “an intentionally false or misleading statement.” Second word will be our focus.

Some people, here in the US, have ideas about the past that I would generously call romantic. To be specific, a lot of our fellow citizens have ideas about what made us great some time ago, in a degree that makes them desirous of returning. Now, Ariana and my intent wasn’t to make a (hopefully beautiful) video-based installation work to force viewers to contend with MAGA as a cultural phenomena. I’m pointing at it here as a really obvious (I hope) example of how the intention behind some romanticism can be, well, corrupt. Poorly intended. Maybe even downright dishonest.

To get back to the* I dropped above, I’ll point once again to Modernism as an ethos. “Yes,” this epoch grew and eventually exploded and overtook Western society because it was necessary change… and, while it left a lot of Classical thinking behind, it sure wasn’t a clean break from misogyny, racism and classism either. I’ll continue as long as I think it relevant to stress that this is an important lesson to internalize. Being sentimental about this time in the history of Art is not only not helpful, it’s incomplete. Like my enduring emphasis through my practice on centering conflicting truths as evidenced by contradiction, Ariana and my hope for the work is a desire that the audience feel a sort of romantic vibe from the work, and connect to the need we all share to have fond memories, for romanticism as a tendency is understandable. Stories are important. That’s half the punchline though; it’s also that knowing and believing and even acting out of romantic motivations doesn’t absolve us of the importance of intention.

So, the exhibit opens December 5 at Greenville Center for Creative Arts and as always I hope you will put Greenville, SC, into your rotation if you’re able. I’m sure there will be images of the work available at some point but at this stage I’ll be a little mysterious and keep you all guessing about what a lens-based artist from Texas and an Neo-romantic abstractionist from North Carolina would create together. More on the show itself below…

Party Line is a collaborative group exhibition linking 42 artists between two artist collectives: TSA GVL in Greenville, SC and ICOSA Collective in Austin, TX, where pairs of artists create new collaborative works to be displayed at the Greenville Center for Creative Arts in Greenville, SC. Working across geography and media, each pair was randomly matched and invited to engage with a shared curatorial theme built around communication, connection, and collaboration across distance.

Inspired by the idea of a shared telephone network, Party Line reimagines a shared channel for today’s mode of communication, suggesting new ways of working together across cultural, political and regional divides. The results span responsive gestures, new site-specific works, and sustained cross-dialogue that reflects tension and synchronicity.

While the exhibition celebrates exchange, it also contemplates what  it means to collaborate in the wake of disruption. These works arise not from agreement, but from the willingness to stay connected – even when the line cracks, the message distorts, or silence lingers.

Participating Artists

Leon Alesi, Mauro Barreto, Megan Bickel, Michael Borowski, Kiley Brandt, Sterling Bowen, Michaela Pilar Brown, Shawn Camp, Veronica Ceci, Zen Cohen, John Cummings, Erin Cunningham, Katherine Van Drie, Adam Eddy, Rebecca Forstater, Rosie Ganske, Ariana Gomez, Sarah Hirneisen, Kevin Kao, Intel Lastierre, TJ Lemanski, Chantal Lesley, Hirona Matsuda, Amanda Linn McInerney, Monica Mohnot, Charlie Mura, Juliette M.M. Herrera Nickle, Vy Ngo, Claudia O’Steen, Jacqueline Overby, Dana Potter, Ashley Rabanal, Matt Rebholz, Seth Relentless, Tammie Rubin, Alex J. Schechter, Joseph Smolin, Leah Smolin, Brooks Harris Stevens, Ana Trevino, Lana Waldrep-Appl, Jenn Wilson Shepherd