Summer Gift

This summer a friend and fellow artist Amy Long gave me a collection of canceled stamps. After organizing the stamps I found several unusual examples.  The cancellation mark in the stamp below seems perfectly placed to indicate the future direction of the characters.

The most unlikely stamp I found in the collection (seen below) features ermine (a kind of weasel) in a Christmas motif. Although this animal  has a white winter coat, it seems like a surprising choice for a holiday greeting.

Finding diverse stamps among the assortment provided a welcomed diversion and a chance to imagine myself in other places among varied company.

Eva Wylie: A View From The Ledge

(For more information about the “Viewfinder Project” click here.)

Eva Wylie’s “Viewfinder”- Relief Print, String, and Book Board Ledge

Eva Wylie was the only artist who sent back a “Viewfinder” in parts as a sculptural project. She wrote to me saying that her work evolved through many stages including one that involved sewing. The end result is a shelf like display for a “Viewfinder” that she ultimately cut apart. Below is a descriptive drawing she sent as part of a letter.


For a long time Eva’s shelf rested on my desk. However, it is this summer when I fully felt its relevance. While at a six week summer teaching job, I live in a cabin that has several simple shelves that allow me store necessities.  Below are two images from this cabin.


After considering these shelves, I realized that they function like a pedestal and a kind of three dimensional viewfinder. The ledge 
frames and organizes the image within a rectangle providing a context for the objects. Also, the conventional use of a shelf creates norms in which objects that are alike in either form or function are grouped together. Eva’s small sculpture inspired me to consider how the everyday objects around me can be framed by conventions of three dimensional display. It seems that a shelf can be as powerful a prompt for organizing an image as the most traditional viewfinder.

Although Eva Wylie often uses print, sculpture, sewing, and installation in her artwork, her more involved projects usually build from many prints and break out of the rectangle or square. Below is an example from Wylie’s website.

A detail of Eva Wylie’s installation titled Roaring Garden

Training the Eyes, Mind, and Body


Occasionally I see something particular or peculiar that may not make a great photograph and may not inspire a sculpture or a painting, but it does stir some thoughts. This occurred recently while out on my daily walk. In this case, I passed by a collection of exercise equipment in front of a house. It is rare to see such equipment (equivalent in quantity to that of a fitness center) out in front of a home. The objects were positioned in such away to form a jumbled overlapping unity.

Although the equipment looks like it is in disrepair, it is unclear if the machinery is headed for disposal. The equipment appears in limbo between the garage and curbside trash pickup. Not only is it a compelling menagerie of devices that seem to address every exercise craze and every part of the body, it also seems to beg to tell a story. Had the owner given up on exercise and banished the equipment? Is there a new device to replace all of the old equipment? Was the equipment bought on impulse, based on the allure of infomercials, and then left unused? Without knowing the owner of the equipment these questions can not be known. However, in a neighborhood where one residence usually merges with the next revealing only the smallest differences, this unique collection is a jolt and a reminder of our own (perhaps less visible) idiosyncrasies.

By taking a break from practical concerns and getting my own dose of exercise I was able to move beyond passive observation and to consider what I was seeing. The eyes, the mind, and the body were in concert thanks to the exercise equipment.

Everywhere A View Is Found

(For more information about the “Viewfinder Project” click here.)

Last week I was in New York City and went gallery hopping. Toward the end of my visit in the gallery district of Chelsea, I noticed signage (seen below) for an exhibit titled Viewfinder at Artgate Gallery. Though I have been unable to find a statement about the exhibit online, I get the sense that the show has little to do with viewfinder devices. Rather, the title has to do with finding new talent through the Nars Foundation International Artists Residency Program. Although I took a nicely composed picture of the window displaying the exhibit announcement, complete with a reflection of the building across the street, I did not get many pictures of the exhibit (related images can be found in the links provided above).

Even though I know that my ideas are not completely original and feel that originality is finite, I felt something jarring about seeing an exhibit that also borrows the concept of a viewfinder. Am I just writing a series of reviews that present a view of specific artwork or can something conclusive be said about the way artists approach seeing and observation in the twenty-first century? Everywhere there is a potential view. So, what is important and how is this determined? Because I have many more “Viewfinders” to review, I wonder if it is inevitable that I will lose focus? Will I veer too far away from how a view is found and focus too heavily on what is in each unique picture?

Although I know that conclusions are inconclusive and I understand this paradox, I am still determined to make conclusions anyway. If one believes that the universe is an interrelated entity, then conclusions will also be beginnings. Thus, conclusions may be as relative to human interpretation as having an artistic view. However, it seems like it is the boundaries, both mentally and physically, that keeps us from drifting in a sea of random visions. Having a view is a first step toward an artistic conclusion. For me, as a writer, having thirty five to forty “Viewfinders” to review means taking a lot of small steps as I work toward a conclusion to this project. This leads me to know that patience is a requirement in gaining an insightful perspective.


Susanna Bluhm’s “Viewfinder”, Ink Drawing, 6″ by 4 1/4″

The “Viewfinders” featured above and below tap into a kind of randomness. I did not give very many requirements for the “Viewfinders” I mailed out. In the case of the work featured here, I mailed out “Viewfinders” to two artists I knew who both live at the same address. I received back one of the drawings from an addressed artist and the other from an artist I had not solicited (this was fine with me). I suspect both “Viewfinders” were made at the same time and quickly as if they were made as a part of a game. I feel that this mode of working led to a spontaneity and playfulness that a traditional view finding device (the kind typically designed for art making) seems to psychologically inhibit.


Amy Lin’s “Viewfinder”, Ink Drawing, 6″ by 4 1/4″

Two final notes: Susanna Bluhm has a wonderful website and will be exhibiting work at Michael Rosenthal gallery in San Fransisco. Lastly, in the note written on Amy Lin’s drawing (“Winnie is a naughty dog”), Lin is ironically and humorously referring to Susanna’s lovable pooch.