Category: updates

Here at the turn of the calendar year I find myself looking back, and feeling many things. Since I’m pointing myself that way intentionally, I’d note I’m grateful and hopeful. Tired, for sure. Although I’m on vacation and “relaxed” there is always the background energy of my anxiety, and I’m grateful for the progress I’ve made on that this year.

Marking occasions is not only important, it’s an easy assignment. Writers live for these kinds of things. By that I do refer to easy assignments, of course, and, I also mean a topic that gets automatic gravitas. I have read some of your year-end reflections** and look forward to a few more. I also say “easy” because I’m writing about the topic I know best- myself and my thoughts and my experiences. Did you see me call myself a writer btw? Hopefully you have been around here enough lately you take that for granted.

I think one major theme, maybe the most significant, in my practice in 2025 has been trying new and different things. Village Impulse was a little of both for me. Most of my energy on the front end of the year went into this multi-artist collaboration in which I utilized media and modalities that aren’t normally part of my strategies (“No,” there aren’t squares or cubes in the large work of Art below). This drawing-cum-happening was the centerpiece of an exhibit that pointed at several themes, such as opening up the subconscious and finding ways to let go of control. We all made a commitment that no one’s ego would ever be a filter for another creative’s license. I got lost and found my way… somewhere. It was gratifying to turn off the monkey brain and act with no judgement. If you don’t know those artists btw, that’s (left to right) yours truly, Chris Thomas, Cindy Morefield, Jason Lord and Peter Deligdisch.

I also got to work as a background enabler for an artist’s solo show. This was a lighter touch than curating, and definitely less “editorial,” as I did not select the work, only the artist, a creative whose practice is pretty different from mine. Derrick Beasley is a culture-maker. In addition to being at the center of all that is cool about Durham, NC, he organized, funded and manages a cooperative centered around equity and black farmers. His visual art also imagines a future culture. He’s a lens-based artist as well, and produced a short film for this exhibit. I was glad to be a small part of helping the Triangle show out regionally. I’d be remise if I didn’t also say that I. Am. So. Grateful for all I’ve learned through my membership in Tiger Strikes Asteroid. The experience has also been an education in collaboration and collective decision making, given that I am one of a 20+ group of the most wonderful artists and humans. And, my membership in TSA and this project specifically enabled me to put Derrick in the same room with Michaela Pillar Brown (you guys missed out on this talk let me tell you). Can’t wait to announce my main project through this platform next year!

Backing up a bit, my first curating project of this year was also my most ambitious exhibit to date. A 10 artist group exhibit titled Modernism Redux which gave me the chance to work with the Diamante Arts and Cultural Center, and of course Peter Marin, their Director. The exhibit was the inaugural Community Highlight, which I look forward to Diamante repeating annually. I am privileged and grateful for the honor of kicking things off. As part of this exhibit I utilized AI- specifically the large language model Chat GPT- as a tie-in to the themes of the show, which was very eye opening, although I have no plans to repeat the exercise. This was (is!) an amazing collection of artists, and the show looked. So. Good. If I do say so myself.

I also made a collaborative piece with Ariana Gomez for Party Line. This work was definitely more planned than Village Impulse- it had to be, since my partner in shenanigans lives in Texas. And even with planning, the universe saw fit to present me with unexpected outcomes anyway during fabrication, a couple of which I’ll be revisiting very soon (this wouldn’t be a year end/year ahead reflection without some teasers). I hope Ariana and I can show this or a similar work together in 2026.

I did get to show my own work this year, a *huge* privilege and honor, in an exhibit at Greensboro Project Space which was titled And, and, and… This show included work from a two-year period but was from a body of work that I developed over six years, and from which I’ve now moved on. While it is hard to think or talk of “and” ending, it was like a period at the end of a sentence. I got to share the space with the wonderful Leah Smith, and do an artist roundtable* with her, Allison Tierney and Chris Thomas (I discovered over the course of this year is my favorite format for engaging a show’s topic, the artists in the exhibit, and the community.

…

What do I have on deck? Besides the two teasers above, I have some writing goals and strategies in motion to get things on deck for 2027. I am, honestly, looking forward to a year centered on making which is focused on the work and not on meeting a deadline or satisfying someone else’s criteria. I choose optimism in this moment.

If you’re wondering about the title choice for this essay, it’s my values, and here’s an attempt at specificity…

1. Authenticity and loyalty. I try really hard to make space. I got to have lots of space this year. I think there is causation.
2. Commitment. I try to engage people’s thinking in addition to their senses; I write, and, I make objects that hopefully go in art galleries to be seen. These relate and are distinct (“both things are true” will continue to show up in my work as well). Each craft- writing and making- reflect time and dedication. In the former case, since considering myself a writer is still newish, I intend to lean in, and exercise a mix of discipline and grace.
3. Bravery. I wanna go up a level across the board this year. I have great ideas that need homes- my work, my writing, my curatorial voice. I have things in the works, and that doesn’t mean it won’t take a village to realize them (see #1). “Thank you” in advance to everyone who says “yes” to me this year. Also, I have work to do on my relationship to this word (bravery) which I’m looking forward to.
4. Honesty. The universe waited till the end of the year to really show me what that can do. The most personal thing I wrote this year, Expectations, was about my journey towards having a new relationship with my birth parents. Well, let’s just say that it’s had challenges, and I’ve grown by trying and, I think, taken some actions which made the relationship more likely to work, so I will trust the process as they say, and continue.

Breathe in. Release. Now, go forth and be amazing, lovelies. See you around!

** Speaking of year end reflections, you should read and participate in Allison Kirkland’s reflection questions in her lovely piece December (and you should follow her over on the Substack if you don’t already- we’re very lucky to have her practice among us in the Triangle). I took a go myself, answers below…

What parts of my creative life/writing practice felt the most meaningful this year?
Writing became a bigger part of my (visual art-centric) practice due in large part to encouragement from others in the community- as I saw others considering it seriously, I found myself re-orienting its importance in my practice.

At what points in 2025 did I feel most present with my own creative voice and writing practice?
When I put together my application for the Burnaway Writers Incubator. I felt really good about the application and at the time, it felt like something clicked for me in terms of how serious I wanted this part of my practice to be. I did not get invited to participate (this year!), and the rejection really hardened my resolve to continue to push my craft.

Did I have any creative challenges that pushed me to grow or taught me important lessons in 2025?
Definitely! A lot of 2025 was about new experiences- I’m going to write about that very topic shortly for my own blog; the tldr was ‘25’s theme was doing new things (“yes” that’s what you’re reading now).

Which habits or routines have supported my creative practice?
It’s not the thing for everyone, but, goals and schedules. I had given my art goals framework a miss for a good chunk of the beginning of 2025 because reasons (seriously, though, I was looking for and then starting a new job). Daily blogging helped keep my interest in Art and my engagement and enthusism up, and being regular about social media (to maintain my brand) kept me accountable for progress as well. I also really make a point of getting out to see the things, and being around the community gets me humming. Towards the end of the year I started scheduling time to be in the studio and make on a weekly basis.

Did I have any habits or routines that felt detrimental to my writing or creative practice?
Yes and no. I definitely have been working more lately than I have in years. It’s reminded me that there was an earlier time in my life when I was this busy when I didn’t make time for making Art and, eventually, fell out of love with it. I don’t think correlation is causation, but… That feeling, when I can recognize it (lack of enthusiasm), is a powerful reminder of the importance of the momentum that I’ve built.

Are there any beliefs I want to leave behind in 2025 when it comes to my creative life and writing practice?
It may not seem like this to many people but I don’t enjoy being bad at something. However, I need to start practicing what I preach to my own kids, that no one gets to be good at anything they aren’t willing to suck at for a few minutes.

What are two tangible ways I can show myself more compassion in the year ahead?
Besides like, literally just doing exactly that (therapy for OCD has helped me a lot here)? I wasn’t prepared to answer this when I sat down but will direct some thought to specificity in this area. Thank you!

2024 | 2023 | 2022

Hello, readers. I wish that this year included some high notes for you. For me, there were several of them, which I’ll share a tad ’bout below. If you’ve been a reader for a minute (and thank you!) there are links to prior iterations of this now recurring, annual effort to give snaps to our wonderful, local Art scene.

A few notes before we begin- these are not in order of preference or ranked. Als0, in the prior three iterations I’ve written about ten exhibits but this year I’ve expanded to 12 so there’s one for each month, maybe? I mean, *I* make the rules around these parts so it doesn’t *really* matter. Anyway, last but not least I want to note that while I clearly consider my opinion valuable enough to document it, no critic ever writes or talks about anything other than what moves them. There were clearly lots of exhibits that happened this year that aren’t included in this article, that took effort by curators and artists alike, and let’s all just take a moment to appreciate how lucky we are. Amen. Shall we begin?

Although you can’t find Critter on the IG, I hope you found Mid Career at Lump . If you saw this one once you didn’t see its totality- it evolved multiple times over almost two months, taking up both sides of our favorite artist-run gallery. If you love word play and clever Art historical references wrapped up in nods to pop culture, this giant work of Art probably (like me) pulled you back several times. As with all great shows there were lots of tiny gifts, like Critter’s journals of observed/overhead comments that also found their way into several of the works. Although I said these are in no particular order, I am putting Lump first because they deserve a big shout out. What a particularly strong year of programming from them- it would have been easy to put more than one of their exhibits on this list. I really hope they keep hosting the UNC-CH MFA thesis shows in particular (I think we will be seeing more from all four of the recent grads from that program btw).

We are really lucky that Rigoberto Mena decided to relocate here from Florida. He had the limelight a couple of times this year, and Skin of the City at Raleigh’s Contemporary Art Museum was, I think, their best painting show. While this one was unfortunately only up for a few weeks before CAM unceremoniously shut down this summer, I went a couple of times to sit with them and found their “skin” belies their complexity. I find it to be a real gift to have someone from Rigoberto’s sensibility among us- the mode of painting on display was a visceral counterpoint to the heavily intellectual work that pours out of American grad schools. The paintings are vigorously, physically wrought, and sit in stillness waiting for the gift of our attention, like the skin of Mena’s beloved Havana. Sorry to not have a link to this show- it’s really too bad CAM can’t be bothered to archive their exhibitions, but I imagine most of us have criticism for the lack of vision or mission over there of late. A real tragedy as the venue, with its superb location, flexibility and variety of spaces as well as excellent programming will be missed if they cannot find a way through and out the other side of their challenges.

Martha Thorn and Mike Geary Strange Attractors at Birdland gave us the opportunity to get lost. The work was strange, in the best of ways, and I do love a clever word play, in this case one where the title is primarily a reference to complex fractals- who knows what structure if any underlies the work (frankly the author doesn’t care). With the typical layers and layers of masked and re-masked visual planes painted in the wild, acid trip colors both artists are prone to, I had to hit this one up a couple of times also. BTW, Birldand is definitely the best “new” space in the area, although I admit a bit of bias as I was able to be part of an exhibit there over the summer (village impulse). Glad to see VAE not only rebooting as an organization, but also taking over directing this venue, to make sure the programming stays top shelf.

Humans Being at Satellite, which at the time was around the corner from Birdland but is now over on Poole Road, featured Christine Randolph, Bob Ray, Allen Lee and John Samosky, and matched scale to venue. Small works in a small space- not that the show or its contents felt small. Salon format doesn’t work for every show or in every space, but it did here; juxtaposing the works with no hierarchy made their surreal contents more surreal by context. The density also served, I thought, the function of making visitors “be.” There are a lot of things humans can be, among them imaginative and creative, in particular of new or at least other worlds. I hope we can all share and enjoy these types of journeys- envisioning is a gift that artists can give right now that the world sorely needs.

Movements by Maria Britton  brought together both paper-based objects and wall-hanging ones made of found and painted materials. It’s not every artist that can or even will move between modalities, and while the pedestal and wall works had a nice dialogue it’s clear one is not a warmed-over rehash of the other- they stand on their own, literally in the case of the wacky paper objects. As comfortable and fun as it would be for me to focus on some art historical references I see in the work, it feels very much like Maria is making up and and using the forms that resonate for them outside of a concern for any echoes. Also, it was a lot of work. Well done, as always, Anchorlight.

Renzo Ortega WAR at Artspace (link is to a pdf) brought (back) together paintings from 2000-2003 and was another painting tour-de-force. Ortega is another Latin American expat that we are fortunate calls the Triangle home. This work… hit on another level for me. I remember the Gulf War era as something that, at the time, felt like a low point in terms of my alignment with a lot of my fellow Americans, who cheered our country’s blatantly imperialist adventurism which got turned up to 10 by the neocon crowd (and yeah, *that* feels like something I’d almost welcome today). It’s an era that feels forever ago in the age of instant news that was also just being born at the time- remember watching live action War? Fucked up, right? Expressionism is an oft overused term and fitting here, both as a description and a mode of making. Really, really powerful work.

Martha Clippinger at The Orenge (courtesy Art Suite) is my wink-wink betcha didn’t know entry for this year . Orenge is a “venue” I feel like is not on the map for a lot of folks and honestly can’t remember how I got the word about this one. Martha was, as usual, clearly working with “painterly” concerns, and the material reality of the work (fiber) changes what that means. Maybe we’re (finally) in a time where observations like aren’t necessary, and it feels material (haha) to nod that way. People familiar with Martha’s practice know that collaboration with other makers is a part of her strategy; and, fiber art in general, even as it lives as a fine art object, when located in a commercial space, repositions the possibility for how Art intersects life. Regular readers know I’m into many ideas we inherited from Modernism so you’re likely not surprised to see my shouting out someone living that in real time. Also, Art Suite should do more pop-ups, their “stable” has some real NC heavyweights and they should find ways to showcase like this more often.

Staying with geometric/grid-oriented abstraction, I absolutely want to shout out Freddie Bell (we weren’t) built for this at DAG, in their good gallery (the one at Golden Belt; not sure why they didn’t archive this exhibition, so, no link…). Scale is super critical with non-figurative painting and the size of these works was very well thought out. The paintings were clearly about optics and not fussiness, and their small-ish scale emphasized the artist’s hand and the viewer’s eye- below is a detail to show you a little more about what I mean. There were also some wonderful assemblages in this show, painstakingly assembled out of painting that was made, destroyed, and reassembled on up-cycled, non-traditional support surfaces. Freddie’s practice in general is attentive to the relationship of our bodies to, well, everything… and they expand beyond objects into body movement among other things. Continue to keep an eye on what Freddie is up to (new works are dynamite)!

Jerstin Crosby PAUSE at Oneoneone is my personal, favorite work by this Artist to date- I’ll argue it’s definitively his most developed and relevant as well. I’m probably breaking some type of rule writing about another creative that has curated me into an exhibit and vice versa but like I said, I’m making the rules around here. There was definitely a (past) cultural moment where this show might have come off as cool hipsterism, but 2025 is not that moment, in fact the opposite. There is a sincerity at work here that the surface level of coolness belies for the casual observer. This isn’t just “yeah for the handmade in the age of AI” (although yeah I feel that). (As Jerstin said in the show statement) “I recall a time when society felt bound together by shared cultural underpinnings” and, clearly, the artist’s impulse to “pause” in this time of information acceleration really landed for me in the context of a longing for shared purpose and a sort of… if not contentment, at least belief that we shared the same reality. Super clever use of materials as well. Glad we have this space as part of our ecosystem in the Triangle, and its sister, Light Art + Design.

Skully Gustafson imagined Upon a Wand and we were all fortunate to get to see these paintings at Peel, another Chapel Hill stalwart around the corner from Oneoneone. A good blend of what we’ve come to expect from Gustafson compositionally (seriously flippant, with lots of “emotional mayhem”), the newer work, I felt, found a way to maintain the same spirit and embrace some luscious painterliness without giving up any of the “devil may care” vibe. Also glitter.

Karen Rose Border Paintings at Diamante is another show I didn’t hear enough of you talk about and you flat missed out if you did. I love the trick in the title. These scenes are not the border of the US at all, as one would expect in 2025, and in fact not even necessarily borders or even countries from which immigration by Latinos to the US is occurring. I felt it was more than clever to point in such an almost heavy handed but misdirected way to create (I hope…) pause for the audience. The strong horizontals which are clearly “of” landscape combined with non-mimetic color that is still representational (of emotional state) were so choice. No surprise that Peter Marin has a great eye for painting.

Julie Anne Greenberg Charting the Uncertain at Meredith College’s Frankie G. Weems Gallery was one of several solid performances they hosted (well done Todd Jones). If you think below is reminiscent of a hurricane you wouldn’t be far off, in a sense- the artist says “just as meteorologists attempt to predict the weather, humans hopelessly attempt to forecast their own lives.” Made of modular elements that give Greenberg almost infinite possibilities, the work exists in a space not between Art and “the natural” but of them both. The objects recall petals, or bark, and clearly Art- almost like brushstrokes. Fantastic and fantastical, and both somber and optimistic. More, please!

When I’ve put together these “year in review” previously, I’ve noted that (I think) one should consider museum exhibits in a separate category from exhibits by smaller, collection- and endowment-less (and often staff-less) institutions, so I’ll repeat that approach this year as well. My preference for abstraction noted, the museum exhibit that did “it” best for me was, hands down, Grace Hartigan: The Gift of Attention at NCMA. In addition to the importance for this exhibit that Hartigan, while canonized, is not widely and often celebrated, the show also introduced viewers to poets Daisy Aldan, Barbara Guest, James Merrill, Frank O’Hara, and James Schuyler. Their work deeply inspired Hartigan, in particular their rebellious spirit, including (and likely because) many of them were queer during a time when this was almost unthinkable, which is in itself, sort of unthinkable. Powerful work and words, organized by curator Jared Ladesma who NCMA should green light to do much more, within and outside of the collection as far as this writer is concerned.

Fuck you guys fucking rock. Let’s go 2026!!!

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

Over at Two Coats of Paint regular contributor David Carrier has words about “Building Models: The Shape of Painting,” currently up at the The Milton Resnick and Pat Passolf Foundation and curated by Saul Ostrow (who gets mentioned on this blog occasionally. Carrier titled his piece Art History Diagrammed.

In another essay I suggested any conception that Artists or the Arts or whoever needs a master narrative to give Art meaning lacked veracity and further that the reverse is true- any possible narrative only comes after we have a sense of the meaning of what we all did. So once again I was feeling a little cantankerous as I started to read, but not much, because critics’ and historians’ job is to try to throw this very structure around all the things. If you don’t truck with this interpretation of their role just open another tab and search for the word “history”. This article will be here when you get back.

Carrier notes that those of us old enough to remember Claude Levi-Strauss’s books on structural anthropology or Rosalind Krauss’ famed structuralist account of sculpture will appreciate the show. Their reason seemed good so I read the latter- both of these writers were covered in one or more of my undergrad classes, for certain. I confess I didn’t plow all the way through since I wanted to get back to David’s words and understand the connection, and you’ll hear from me at another time about Kraus’s expanded field concept (probably as a reason to revisit structures I have made up out of whole cloth myself).

I know most of the ten artists Ostrow has included, and one of the reasons for this blog’s existence is the joy I find in “discovering” creative practices, and so I will blog about those we haven’t discussed yet over the next week. Pat and Milton made important contributions to history obviously, and the foundation named for the same plays host to the subject exhibit which features work by Ron and Joanna and Joe, the latter being, in my opinion, a painter who was overdue for a retrospective and got one earlier this year at the Menil in Houston. The take away is that the grouping are creatives who have made their mark, which I note because I do think our read of their work, each time it happens going forward, is a read on ourselves. Not a justification per se, although over time maybe some creative re-telling… The point being the notion that this show is about the arc of history is not overreach, there is skin in the game.

Carrier understands this exhibit is part of a larger body of “work” by Ostrow to draw the contours of a very specific point in Art history, for Saul’s own reasons. Spoiler alert he thinks the conceit that there is a master narrative to be had is a bit forced. To generalize, I’d offer that any creative would agree that while we all take in what is going on around us that we also very much have our own ideas of what we are about and which I doubt anyone who calls themselves Artist with a capital “A” feels obliged to check with the literati regarding. As I said at the top, the contour often takes the distance of time anyway (which in fairness, Ostrow has) and any diagram is at best helpful and always artificial. tldr; my perspective about Carrier’s intent did not serve me in the end, as we seem to be aligned on that point. Also and, the show has some great looking work in it which he recognizes so if you’re NYC based go check it out.

Speaking of contours, I remember a moment in a critique in grad school which like too many of them for my taste went sideways, and in this case, involved a retort by yours truly that the expectation that Artists should consider at all times that their practice could and should be part of the canon was folly. I literally can’t remember what prof had goaded me into this exclamation, but it stands out as a moment when I realized that I truly believed Art as a historical project was over, or at least pointless (yes, “dead”) and that we should all proceed as lead by the spirit. And yes, I had recently finished a good number of Arthur Danto‘s essays (link is to a great overview vid by Amor Sciendi on his YouTube channel).

Clearly the volume of words I’ve left here and elsewhere illustrate that I do not feel the limited value of a master contour detracts from the value we can find in our own practices, or even in drawings lines of influence (before or after the act of creation) to our collective history. Just search for the word “Modernism” on this blog if you’re new and curious how I think about what I’m doing here in relation to events from our past. Cheers.

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Those of you who read which I suspect is most you, may take a pause at this essay’s title, wondering where you’ve heard this phrase recently, or at least something very similar. You’d be correct of course. Hyperallergic recently published Geometric Abstraction in the Age of Disparity, a review of Lisa Corinne Davis’s newest work by the one and only John Yau.

Lisa has been hitting for a minute, and if you’re a fan of abstraction you can see why. Tight, right? I’m glad to admit that I dig artists that roll up their sleeves and really focus on high craft. No need to pretend like we don’t just. love. really sharp painting. I mean, look at these! She’s got chops, period.

Lisa also has a broad definition of practice, which I appreciate- in addition to making, she teaches, curates and writes. So we share that as a point of fact and no I’m not equating the success or rigor or importance of my practice to hers. And, regular readers also know what a huge John Yau fan I am (I’ve referenced his essays on this blog no less than 15 times). He (and Lisa) do, I think, an excellent job of recognizing the relevancy of openness and intentional rigor around identity while also making time in their practice to address ideas of universality of human experience. This is no mean feat- snaps all around.

With a set up like above, you know the “however” is coming, so, here it is. When I read things like “stretched the possibilities of painting into a territory defined by digital systems, algorithms, flow charts, and diagrams” I just smirk. Not laugh, more of a self-righteous grin. Those of you who know me irl can probably picture the left side of my smile creeping up. Thanks to everyone who says thank you for my words, here and in shorter format over on IG, which I will continue to enjoy giving away for the love of it*. And, a serious art writer has to put some smack down now and then because that is what criticism is. So, let’s try this serious thing on for size.

Put a pin in the notion that the medium of painting can meaningfully comment on “the digital” (and leave that pin in the wall, and never come back to it). Brass tacks- denizens of the capital “A” Art world pontificating about flow charts and diagrams is amusing if I’m feeling generous. If you can’t write a nested IF function in MS Excel or even change out the style on a flow chart in PowerPoint I think you’re out over your skis on the topics that have to do with the world of business, friend. I’ve never once been working on a project pro forma or critical milestones in a digital format and come across anything that in any way shares aesthetic with Lisa’s work. Never.

Geometry is, no doubt, a system of rules. And, Lisa is no doubt interested in systems and their semiotics and how that literally shapes the way we see the world (key word being “see”). I just… I just don’t buy the notion that Lisa’s work is “about” geometry, just because it has some straight lines and squares. Hyper graphic maximalism is more appropriate and that is all love, as I shared above. Keep cranking it out; also and, keep it real, folks.

Why do I like “multiplicity” better than “disparity”? Well let’s start with the fact that John admits multiplicity is present (“they welcome myriad narratives without ever settling into a single storyline“) and the gallery, Miles McEnery, points it out in the show statement (“her works are several things at once“). Disparity is “a noticeable and usually significant difference or dissimilarity.” I’m pretty certain that the cacophonous quality of Lisa’s work doesn’t really make one notice significant differences; maximalism is conflation as its most overpowering. Multiplicity, is, simply, the state of being various. Am I nitpicking? No, I think the distinction that these works aren’t “about” highlighting differences using geometry to comment on algorithms is worth a moment of thought for all of you. I think Lisa’s really well executed, thoughtful and engaging works capture this moment of the flattening of culture and the firehose that is digital media in a way that is eerily comforting. Like that uneasy but familiar feeling of being sucked into… whatever it is. Feeling resentful of something that has power over you is “several things at once.”

I think it all comes down to my gut feeling that when writers, even great writers like John, start describing artwork as being “about” anything, you simplify a piece of Art, reducing it to a mere container, at best a codex, a sort of proxy that only exists to give us a reason to congratulate ourselves for ideas that are more important than the work itself. I understand words are the writer’s bias. And, stop it.

*BTW, in the link above I referenced a prior essay where I shared thoughts about an essay by Hakim Bishara to whom I must offer congratulations, I know we all look forward to them taking on more responsibilities at Hyperallergic.

Today I begin my 52nd trip around the sun. A little context for why I am thinking about how we assign importance to occurrences, and mark the passage of time.

“Occasion” like so many English words and phrases has multiple uses of course. “A special occasion” or “on the occasion of” or “I had the occasion to,” etc . Occasions- noting and referring to them more specifically- show or reveal the outlines of how we see ourselves in our own story, which is shaped by our relationship to time as we both remember past events and have hopes for the future.

When we refer to “an occasion” we are noting that we have “marked” a moment in time, or, in the case of ceremonies and celebrations, multiple moments over sometimes long periods of time. A painting is a way of marking the passage of time also. I should clarify that I’m talking about how I feel about abstract painting. One of the ways I’m giving in to nostalgia this weekend is looking through my slide library, which I can do because I still own a light table (I just admitted I’m 51). I found images of work I was making in the late ’90s “about” mapping, conflating wood grain forms with contour maps, which are both snapshots of geologic time. I was mostly just pointing at painting as a record of its own creation.

The (poorly photographed) “map” works were probably, OK, *definitely* artist statement cover for my formalist tendencies. Maps and mapping are pretty rich terms for those of us who are part of the first generation of art students to get educated almost exclusively by postmodern era instructors. On this occasion of reflecting about the past, specifically on my college (over)education, I can see, as the artist I am today, how that facet of the development of my practice shapes my relationship to and wariness around plenty of concepts. Not just maps and mapping. I catch myself constructing an argument as if I’m arguing with some of “them,” pretty regularly, especially when I engage with topics like progress and universal humanity. It’s been a bit of, while not rebelliousness (no artist apologizes for *that*), definitely a reaction on my part, which comes with some of the feelings, as the kids say.

I don’t think mine is a unique situation, to value the existence of an institution like “Art” and also to have been drawn into its dynamic of simultaneously venerating and eschewing the past. It’s almost like a parent-child-family sort of relationship to the past and future. Our weird little village is, well… BTW, “yes” it’s totally one of many contradictions that animate and motivate me that I have developed an academic approach of using words, while having and expressing resentment towards the Academy. Maybe that’s just a way of saying I’m bought in on this idea that I’m an Artist with a capital “A” though- I mean the resentment of my elders, not the snootiness. Maybe that too, though…

Anyway, a birthday is an occasion as experience filtered through memories of past, similar experiences. Its shape is sort of wild if you think about it that way. Part of the context for these reflections on the passage of time and memory is that I’m working on a collaborative piece about memory, specifically nostalgia, and the way it is a broken map, but, that’s a blog for another Sunday. Be good to each other lovelies.

I think one of the best parts about the city I’ve chosen to live in, and specifically its Art scene, is perspective. Regular readers know I love the Triangle of North Carolina. I think it’s not on a lot of people’s radar who aren’t here or from here. That’s not shade or being jaded. The ubiquity of social media cuts both ways in this instance- “yes” more people can know of what we do because of platforms like Facebook, Tik Tok and Instagram, and, there are probably other, similar cities and regions that are also clamoring for love from the algorithmic overlords of the internets.

An example of the value of perspective that you can only see from a place like here? To get to my point, I’ll point you to an example in a recent essay over at, yep, Two Coats of Paint. Anna Gregor‘s The Art Critics Who Don’t Want Better Art gives it to multiple someones with both barrels. I was dying to know who, too, but (spoiler) she doesn’t, although Jacob Brooks came over the top a couple days after her essay was published and spilled the tea- we’ll get to that. Anyway, I think the gist of her article is she ain’t feelin’ the love no more. Not that she makes the case that the purpose of a critic is to be a stan.

I’ve touched on the role of critics as well. I think a perspective Anna and I share is that the art writing we enjoy the most comes from a place (my words, from link above) of belief in the value of the things about which the author is writing. Anna goes further- “The critics who have developed this power will create works that open up artworks to those who want to engage with them but aren’t sure how.” I don’t know that this is the truth, or strive to make the case that there is a way to be (or specifically, to write) that is “right.” I’m pointing to something we have in common on my way to where my perspective differs.

I also continued in my essay linked above by saying that I’m trying to create an “us.” While by that, I didn’t mean a new paradigm that is a clear set of rules for what goes in the “Art” box, and also I didn’t flesh my notion of an “us” out in the succinct way Jacob did in his response to Anna’s essay (told you we’d get there). He calls for “forms of expression that deny the individual and the market… a deliberate embrace of obscurity that algorithms cannot parse.” He also clarifies that this is not a “call for new games as a nostalgic plea for a new avante-garde, with its worn-out fantasies of shock, rupture, and eventual assimilation… but a wholesale expansion of expression and thought that cannot be transformed into commodities.” What does the… (?) editor of a blog titled “Painting After Art is Dead” think about shattering paradigms and hewing to the idiosyncratic? Glad I asked.

Related to the (a?) notion that there is a possible “us” worth contemplating, over at Brooklyn Rail Bob Nickas had another enjoyable piece of brain candy (for me at least) that came out this last ~week. Maybe not candy in the sense of being sweet, since I find myself feeling contrarian about it. The set up was ‘Has Contemporary Art Run Its Course?” which, of course, said editor of this blog has clearly answered. Not really answered in the sense of a “yes” or “no” to the particular question asked in Bob’s essay’s title (else, why write this) but answered in the sense that I do in fact think some aspect of history has, in fact, run its course- and so does he. Not sounding contrarian, yet, I know.

I’ll move to the offensive then and note that, actually, I disagree with the premise that contemporary Art has run its course. Beyond the obvious fact that this author is sitting down on a Saturday morning to write about Art (for the love, as discussed above), I think my issue is the closing phrase of the sentence. And I don’t mean to boil the article down to the title, because Bob makes some quite interesting points- I’ve read it twice before starting this essay and by the time you read this I’ll have done so at least a third time.

I’ll disclose my interpretation of the phrase to clarify- “run its course “means complete its natural development without interference.” It’s “development.” I see my practice as continual development. If I stop or stopped developing then sure I might agree. I’m guessing if you’ve read this far you care enough about Art that you’ll not only agree with Anna’s thesis that good criticism makes you want to get out and see Art you’ll likely at least sympathize with my hot take that you view being an Artist as a strategy to living in the world, more so than it being a job (it certainly is work of course to be an Artist), or agreeing with Bob’s broader point, with which I also take some issue, that we need a master narrative to connect to give Art meaning (I’d argue it’s the reverse that’s true- that narrative only comes after we have a sense of the meaning of what we all did.)

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And… they’re all talking about NYC. Right? I mean, yes- the authors are discussing “the Art world.” But “obscurity,”? Really, Brian? From the editor’s desk of Two Coats of Paint, which has never, ever covered a single show outside of the state of New York? The sheer volume of things to see and do in NYC is astronomical. I’m hoping I can take my first pilgrimage there since 2020 soon, so, again with the “no shade.” All three authors really should come hang out with us though. I spent like 2 hours looking at Art last weekend. And I didn’t have to jostle with ten bazillion New Yorkers to do it.

Look, I read what the people wrote, because I see value in their perspective that only they can have. I just wonder what perspective they’d have if they really embraced the type of broad, post-historical narrative they’re espousing and got out of the damn City and hung out with those of us who are committed to practicing a vibrant, challenging, diverse and fucking meaningful practice without needing to be in the center of the Art universe. Bless their hearts.

This little moment caught my eye during a recent trip to the Weatherspoon. it’s a detail from a Josef Albers, whose work regular readers are aware I contemplate a good bit. I imagine a lot of Art viewers, who have a bit of background on Josef, think of Albers work as having an almost cold precision to it. While the work isn’t sloppy and it’s also clearly about color (he used a “hard edge” vocabulary to highlight contrast) I think it’s easy to forget that he spent many years hanging out at Black Mountain college where human expressiveness was highly valued, and it’s likely he intentionally allowed this work to reveal it’s hand-made nature.

I initially thought I might write about imperfections and the human hand. After a bit of contemplation thought I realized that’s not the right word since “imperfection” means a blemish or undesirable trait, and I’m certainly not advocating that being human is inherently undesirable. In fact, the opposite.

The village impulse project which I recently helped organize was quite literally the opposite of striving to be perfect. Allowing space for accidents was intentional, and the maximalist creation at the center of the show was if nothing else a testament that the human hand could be shaky and wild and uncontrolled and that creative output doesn’t always need to be beautiful or sublime to draw us in. Maybe that’s a big, perhaps (the) primary reason this little moment jumped out at me from a 60 year old painting.

I’ve talked with some of you irl about what it means to allow the human hand to show through in the context of using geometric shapes- below are some examples of this direction that are recent. I like the contradiction of using uneven lines to form edges for very nearly the same reasons Albers often used squares and rectangles to highlight contrast (in particular, I like juxtaposing these hand-painted edges with areas of color which have taped edges).

Is something human made more important now than it was in the not too distant past? Maybe that’s also the wrong adjective… relevant, perhaps? Given the reactions I’ve had from many of you, it feels like we are in a moment where the answer is “yes.”

Last time I wrote for myself (and for you, whoever you are) I touched on the word impulse (in the context of my recent project, village impulse). “Village” was very much at the center of the project for myself and the core group of creatives that drove it (and part of why we opened up this project to others outside of that group). The image below of a human-scale exquisite corpse drawing that was in the show (it morphed into something else at one point) includes contributions from at least 8 artists.

The textbook definition of “village” is a small community. If you’re reading this particular blog, you’ve definitely heard someone utter and likely even used the phrase “arts community” yourself. They are often small (arts communities), like a village, so, I guess, they are a village.

A number of things come to mind for me when I think of communities- shared interests, sticking together, aid for each other in times of need*. At least, communities that operate in a healthy way have these attributes. The impulse to find a village is a thing, for those reasons. *If you wanna help out, Orange County Arts Commission has some ways given the recent impacts of Chantal on the Hillsborough community.

Surrealists and Dadaist were drawn into villages in the aftermath of WW II. I can’t imagine how horrific that epoch must have been. For me it stands as an example of one of the truths we try to internalize when practicing the tools and skills in dialectical behavior therapy- I am suffering, and, I am capable of making changes to my circumstances.

This project also has a relationship to Modernism, through Surrealism and Dada. Modernist were proponents of many ideas, a number of which could roughly and collectively be tossed in the bucket I’ll call the universal village. If you’ve visited here before you are not surprised to hear me return to this territory. The similarities of context to this epoch and the Modern era (generally I’ll call it rapid change) merit a reconsideration of the ideas that developed in that time. Both to re-center constructive, empathetic thinking about a holistic view of humanity and our value as individuals and unified collective, and learn from the places where the raw aspirations of the ethos soured and turned against any sort of “universal” mission to unlock human potential and freedom.

Any who, as usual I’m ruminating more than presenting a thesis statement; trying to sort out my own values in words. If any of y’all figure it out just holler. If you like these words share and tell a friend to tell a friend. Be good to your village and nurture it, loves.

Last time you saw a blog from me that wasn’t about an abstractionist, was when I wrote about my current project, village impulse. Please come see the show btw, it’s up at Birdland in Raleigh through the end of July, and will transform over the course of its run. The impulse for writing I had this week was, well…

As I often do, I try to reflect on things I’ve written previously as I begin a new blog/essay. Partly to track how my thoughts evolve, and, also to see what threads pull through. One that came to mind was about immediacy which had as its thesis “I’m convinced that there is an experience to be had through Art that is unique to the same and exists- with immediacy- prior to our ability to describe it using language.”

I think of the two as tied together- “immediacy”, as described above, and “impulse” as I’ll describe it in the context of an exhibit about disruption and automatic drawing. The impulse that I’ve been nurturing through this show, which has led to some mark-making I have not been employing in my practice in the last couple of years, is about acting outside of thinking, trusting intuition. Make a mark, react, react to that. The disruption piece comes in as a means to dislodge conscious thought and concern about starting or finishing, and also involved strategies to randomly generate starting points that make this easier. Below is an example of something I made for this show.

Said differently, that impulse that drives me into the unknown is the same one that drives me towards Art that doesn’t ask that I treat it like a codex. I make the type of work I do because I want viewers to experience something that is not yet known to them. I covered this in an essay from May of ’23 called The Matrix. It isn’t about simulacra- it’s about a specific matrix I created (hey, just trying to grab your attention, glad to see all it takes is capitalizing one letter…).

Sure this isn’t everyone’s bag. I hope that will continue to be one of the wonderful things about the Art world that we all create together in our weird village. To call out what I’m pointing at, it’s the umbrella thing- lots of types of activities can fit under here. Including ideas that other, specific ideas aren’t good or correct ideas, because that’s an idea, too.

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Also and… Impulse, more specifically the freedom to act on it, feels so incredibly precious in this moment. I’m referring here to our point in human history, which Jason and the other artists involved in village impulse and myself wanted visitors to be aware of. I say precious because we live in a time when it feels like every. Thing. We. Do. Or. Say. Has. Consequences. What a tragic situation and how beautiful to move outside of that and just… make. We think, at least.

For the last couple of months I’ve been working on drawing-based project and exhibition that will take place at Birdland in July with fellow abstractionist Jason Lord. The impetus of the show, for me, is a continuation of my interest in parallels between the epoch in which late Modernism exploded, and the present day– specifically in pointing at the former to draw awareness to the latter. It has also been a refreshing and invigorating extension of my current practice as I have had the opportunity to use some mark making strategies I wouldn’t normally. There is a strong footprint on the finished work, specifically some large individual contributions, from Linda Cato, Peter Deligdisch, Cindy Morefield and Chris Thomas. There will also be a spectrum of participation by many artists from our local community, you’ll have to come visit to see who!

The project started with the early 20th century Surrealist parlor game Exquisite Corpse, where the collaborative joining of unrelated ideas yields novelty, contradiction, and the unexpected.  This process of dismantling and reassembling branched into other strategies of disruption:  attempting to suppress the conscious mind through the act of automatic drawing; using frottage, asemic writing, and collage to deconstruct meaning or remove it entirely. Some samples of the some of the drawing I’ve generated are below- quite different from hard-edged squares within squares. Show statement follows.

village impulse is a drawing project that centers communal strategies to disrupt conventional image-making and design. We pull from art historical traditions, like the ego disruption of the Surrealists, the rejection of logic in Dada, and the experimental spirit of Black Mountain College.  Through collective experimentation, we embrace absurdity, challenge the inert, and uplift the unexpected.  As the planet and its inhabitants face compound systemic failure, we ask, “how can we use disruption as a strategy to enable collective creativity and transformation?”

Artists respond to the world and its happenings.  When the political landscape becomes irrational and the status quo unacceptable, artists respond and disrupt accordingly. Through village impulse, we make a case for embodied disruption through drawing: disrupting the hand through interventional tools and limitations; disrupting the image by decentralizing its maker; and disrupting the drawing process by adding elements of chance and randomization.

By revisiting these Modernist strategies, we plant a rhizome and let it spread into new territory, drawing approaches, and means of disruption, and through shared prompts, mail art, and on-site drawing (YES! when you visit, you can add to the exhibit!), we invite you to join us in asking, “how can we build something new together?”

Birdland Gallery is located at 706 Mountford Ave in Raleigh. The space will be open Fri/Sat/Sun in July (hours to come but expect late afternoon). Opening 7/5. Tell a friend to tell a friend!

Or at least it was this last week. And I did pretty good, I think, at this not-job.

I wrote about my j-o-b recently, which I like. The challenge of beach as a “job” is actually not making it feel like a job. And I don’t mean “work,”- I’m not talking about things that one does that take effort, like writing this blog. I made a few boundaries for myself for the trip, one of which was using the positive energy and space away from any formal responsibilities outside of making meals that take an hour or more to prepare, and hoping some topic of interest just popped up. No, by “not feeling like a job” I mean really giving in to the whole vibe, and not making being carefree something that takes conscious work.

So yeah we watched the Barbie movie. And made a lot of references to this line by Ken. I’m “just…” (fill in the blank). As I began to write I was thinking of “just” as an adverb, in which role “just” can have various meanings: recently; exactly or precisely; only or merely; really or absolutely (adds emphasis to a statement); or simply/basically- in this case, being “just beach”, for example. 

All of the uses have a limiting factor. As someone who talks and writes and thinks about “and” so much, “just” brought some stuff up for me.

We talked at one point about all the memories that the house we were staying in likely contained, for both the owner’s family, and many others. We watched families all around us, since there isn’t much on Holden except beach houses, so family time is the whole vibe. I tried to keep my phone out of my hand or pocket, and was mostly successful (mostly– we were making some memories and our family enjoys scrolling our camera roll sometimes as much as the next set of Joneses). I’m glad, and grateful, that one of my main memories was just how pleasant and relaxed the whole vibe was.

Yes, I did also think about “just” as an adjective while beaching it, not basically (“just”) because of the delicious contradiction that it can function as both an adjective and adverb. Or America Ferrera’s monologue in the movie where she lays out the general sitch for every American woman how struggles to “just”… What is “just” came up for many of us because it means “fair” (also rightful or deserved) and let’s be honest, everyone “deserves” a vacation, right? Thank you to every culture out there on the planet that prioritizes time away from work, I hope we’ll catch on here eventually.