This weekend I was feeling tired and heavy. It was a full moon. Neptune was involved. And the darkness of the season was having more of an impact than usual. I spun my wheels doing laundry and bookkeeping most of the day on Saturday. But on Sunday I had a holiday sale to host and would not be dragged down, I decided.
Instead of wallowing until it was time to leave, I wanted to start off my day by doing something besides my usual routine. I had the idea earlier in the week to take some of my work in my current online show, Rainbow’s End, outside and photograph it en plein air.
I was surprised with how fun it was. The work is my first online-only solo exhibition, which is a feature of the art world that seems to have become more popular since the pandemic. I thought it would be a fun way to share the work with a new audience. While I am grateful for the opportunity, I missed the one-on-one engagement you might get at an opening, or gallery walk-throughs. I missed the conversations, the spontaneous ideas, and possible collaborations that come up when you do an in-person exhibition.
This is something we artists, art lovers, and collectors are missing out on when work is seen, bought, and sold almost entirely online - which is according to W Magazine what 70%+ of high net-worth collectors do. Honestly, I’m surprised it’s not more.
From what I understand, it is common for shows to be sold almost entirely through pdfs, Instagram, emails and other digital mediums. What do we gain from this as artists? People who can’t make our shows in person still have access and can support our work from afar. That’s kind of huge.
It’s hard to generalize though because there are so many different types of collectors. There are people who buy and see art for the love of it, and there are others who buy work as an investment, a sign of prestige, or to sell as soon as the artist’s prices go up. It’s capitalism so there’s no straightforward, black-and-white reason solution to what ails us. The big C touches everything, even every cool, DIY subculture, for better or worse, and everyone has to make their peace with what that means. I am still struggling with my relationship to monetization, and my work being engaged with solely in the digital realm.
Anyway, as I said above, after about a month of hosting the show online, the digital ecosystem was starting to make my work feel lifeless and dry - at least to me. The straightforward photos of work on a white background didn’t communicate the importance of the paintings in relation to my other work, or create a context for the time or place in which they were made.
Inspired by a couple of Instagram posts where artists shot their work outdoors, I decided that it would be fun to see my paintings reintegrated into the landscape that inspired them, here in the hills of Tujunga. Below is a video I made of the temporary installations:
(No trees were harmed in the filming of this video.)
Placing this work along the trails that I walk and work on almost every day was fun, slightly embarrassing when neighbors came by with their dogs, and also playful. I loved the color vibrations between the bright, fluorescent palette of the paintings, and the earthy tones of the winter chapparal. The flatness of the paintings paired next to the dimensionality of the trees and plants, with the deep space of the mountains looming in the background did something to the paintings that a flat white wall will not. Hung with overlapping plants and shadows, the paintings became less of a portal or a window, and more of an object or a document of a moment - which is how I see them now.
In the studio, I focus most on image-making, color, and composition as it comes to me. Usually though, when I look back on past bodies of work, what keeps me most interested is what the work was saying about my life at the moment. How were they documenting a time, a feeling, or my reaction to the state of the world?
Playing around in the hills for this photoshoot made me realize I want to expand beyond the confines of a flat canvas format and beyond the traditional white kunsthalle. This feels appropriate given the context for the series is my coming out story, which has been all about moving from smallness to expansion, from hiding to being out in the sun. In this case, my work is literally doing just that.
Below are some of my favorites from the photo shoot.
“Rainbow’s End” is open through Dec 31st online with Col Gallery
Season 4 of The Side Woo is getting ready to drop next year in January. Notable guests include author and ethnographer Sarah Thornton, artist and filmmaker Allison Schulnik, author and sexpert Rena Martine, artist Katherine Bradford and more - stay tuned! If you want to get caught up you can listen on Apple, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.
Fun! What a great setting you live in/near - the paintings look great outdoors! I love the image of the three paintings hanging in the same tree.
Interesting about so many people buying art online. I can't even imagine it - for me, art is physical, among other things. How much one misses by seeing art only online - just like a zoom chat, you can't get the full picture, literally.
Love it. But I would have to see the art to feel the art. You might be drawn to one visually, then there's another that you are drawn to physically. Experience that magnetic pull. But I'm weird like that. LOL. xo