I've been feeling guilty of late for the photographs I've been taking. I am like a hobbyist engaged in some time-wasting endeavor that is sure to bring no respect, to say nothing of either fame or fortune. The subjects themselves are of questionable taste with respect to a large demographic- tiny, cute, girly miniature toys.
There's that old adage "do what you love and the rest will follow", but at times that rings empty. I could question the nature of motivation, i.e., how many artists are truly moved by process alone without any regard to criticism and that may describe the average outsider artist, but for most "schooled" artists, we keep our eyes on the prize: a show, a review, a publication, a sale. We are only as good as our convictions- as long as they have been deemed acceptable by a third party. Call me crass, but I don't speak no jive, son.
As ridiculous as it would sound, in light of my many-year obsession with the Japanese culture of the small, Kawaii is a relatively new term to me. At it's core, the word means "childlike", "sweet", and "innocent", with darker connotations such as "vulnerable", "weak" and "socially inexperienced".
Why should this matter? I've been trying to justify my collection and the time "wasted" setting up scenes to shoot them. I make haste to liken this process to one I knew more formally during the time spent photographing room scenes for commercial purposes. I am doing the same thing, albeit on a smaller (literally!) scale. But where does the drive stem from? Why miniature? Why small things associated with my youth? Why now? I have been temped by a growing subculture.
As has been part of mainstream culture in Japan since the 1970's, flaunting symbols of childhood is a way to hang onto it and thereby delay those specific aspects of adulthood that are deemed grueling and unsavory- take your pick. To wit, grown men and women drive character cars and fly on airplanes painted with Pokemon on the side. I believe the trend has only begun here as a subculture due in large part that adult-marketed toys (no, not those) have not been made available until recently. I credit adults who were children in the 1980's to start this trend here. Witness the small, but growing contingency of Japanophiles who delight in the cartoon offerings of Sanrio. How about Kidrobot? Frank Kozik's been around for quite some time, but his followers had to become of age to disseminate his kawaii-like vinyl toys designs. So, why is this a trend now? Several catalysts (and certainly, just my opinion) stem from the bright, colorful Saturday morning cartoons of the 1980's, the over-marketing of figurines like Rainbow Brite and the Transformers and florescent clothing and god-awful patterns of the late 80's and early 90's. You didn't have to like this stuff, but it was all-pervasive. It would be remember and referenced in later years. And who doesn't want to recall their youth in some small way? As a teenager (and I am referring to a select group here) we were all deemed Slackers, a term about as anti-life affirming for a generation as you can get. A certain restraint was lifted. It was implied that we had not set very high goals for ourselves, so why not grow up and play with toys?
Why else would this happen in the new millenium? Did children of the 1950's have bastardized 1970's movie remakes about cartoons they watched as children? No, there was and, for most part, still is a stigma on continuing to reference things used and experienced as children. It makes one seem defective in a way, like you never grew the fuck up. There is a percentage of this blight that is being erased, as certain franchises have turn to capitalize on our collection penchant for 80's nostalgia. Micheal Bay, I'm looking at you, asshole.
So, say what you will about my work only serving to keep my reality at an arms length. I won't deny it.
You still might think it's silly, but the Japanese know what's up.
Anecdotes, complaints and advice is what I have to offer.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Interview with Painter JB Krost
Aftermath
5 ft X3ft
Acrylic on Canvas
2009 Baptism
aprox 35"x 29"
Acrylic on Canvas
2008
For today's entry, I've decided to interview JB Krost, a painter from Cleveland, Ohio that I became acquainted with on Myartspace.com. He has attended both the Cleveland Institute of Art and Cuhahoga Community College.
JB's blog can be found at:
http://jbkrost.blogspot.com/
and his online portfolio at:
http://www.myartspace.com/artistInfo.do?populatinglist=home&subscriberid=34mu10d0waarpfs1
CB: How long have you been painting?
JB: 27 years, I started out with watercolors then moved to acrylic on canvas. When I grow up I want to use oils on canvas. But I have been creating things since I could remember.
CB: What do you feel are common themes/subjects in your work?
JB: I always attempt to include that little something that makes the viewer ask "The Question" sometimes its hard to know what exactly it is. But I feel you usually know it when you see it, and its usually hard to put into words. Sometimes I don't know what it is until I'm deep into the canvas.
CB: What’s a typical day in the studio like for you?
JB: It's kind of hard to say....
I'm not the guy that runs in there all happy and joyful, saying, "Look at me, I'm creating!" Its' more a cautious entrance, one that edges on "Oh, it's that room, the one that I need to be in", and when I'm finally settled in, I hate to be distracted. I don't even have a radio or anything that makes noise. Usually in the winter months, I get up really early 4:00-5:00 AM when the house is silent, make coffee, and work most the day.
Sometimes I go in there not really to paint. I just look at what needs to be fixed or adjusted, and before I know it there's a brush in my hand.
CB: Are there other artists that you take inspiration from?
JB: I love Joan Miro, he was so free with his colors and lines, and created these little worlds and galaxies from wherever. Marc Chagall is also a favorite, although he was far more romantic that I am. Susan Rothenburg,
but not necessarily the horses, some of her other work is much more powerful, and says so much with so little.
Joseph Cornell- His boxes are the best, Small movable worlds. (Where did he get that stuff?) Alberto Giacometti,
because his long narrow sculptures look as though they have been through a nuclear winter. I could probably go on, but that's enough.
CB: Is there a certain way that you approach the canvas with regard to style?
JB: That kind of hard to say.....
I'm not sure I have a specific style, But I always begin with composition, then gesture, and slowly work in light and dark values. I almost never start with a sketch. I want to explore the mixing of the paint. I think I learn something from every painting.
I have only taken a few drawing/painting classes, and that may have been a mistake, because I know that I must be breaking rules that have been put in place to stop fools like me from gutting canvas and wasting paint. What can you say? Live and learn.
CB: What compels you to make art?
JB: For me, it hedges on a religious plane, I find that I just would not be happy at all if I didn't have the creative outlet for expression. I'm not "happy-happy"; I'm more "as long as things are not too screwed up, I'm a bit more content." The paintings I do are all from a personal nature, I'm not sure I pick them, I think they may choose me from stories I hear about other peoples lives, my own life, or just a theme of some kind.
CB: What do you hope others will take from your work?
Most of my work is a journey, as well as statement of my surroundings. Things happen all around us all the time. Whether we acknowledge them or ignore them are always up to us. I try to record some of mine, but life moves so fast, I just can't get them all. I attempt to nail down a certain Idea, feeling, something I have seen, or story I've been told. We all have similar pleasures and fears, and I attempt to come clean, without spelling everything out. I would rather that you try to figure some of these things out, come up with your own conclusion, and this may make you pay more attention to your own world. At one point or another, we all end up in one of my paintings. What you see here could help you decipher where you are, where you have been, and where you are going, and not all of it is pretty.
jbk
Additionally, JB would like to give a shout out to SHIRLEY ALEY CAMPBELL, who was his instructor from both schools, MARY FRANCE, and of course, his Mom who encouraged him to keep at it.
jbk
Additionally, JB would like to give a shout out to SHIRLEY ALEY CAMPBELL, who was his instructor from both schools, MARY FRANCE, and of course, his Mom who encouraged him to keep at it.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Worky-Worky
As I mentioned before, I am in geek overdrive at the moment. Despite the fact that it's finally hit seventy outside and it's the weekend, I have proceeded to stay inside and shoot the hell out of my mini collection. The upside is that I think that what I'm churning out is good/cute/worthwhile and will hopefully only strengthen my portfolio, there's also that risk of alienating certain folk due to the limited appeal of the subject matter, but whaddaya gonna do?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
New Series/Direction For Now
It's the end of the semester and effectively the end of my being a grad student with student loan monies to burn. That said, I gotta quit spending the money that I do have, so no more sculpture for the time being, unless/until I start scavenging for material from the city dump.
So I was bored last Friday and decided to waste some time by photographing my Re-ment collection. (For those of you not in the know/not young women into teeny, tiny replicas, Re-ment is a Japanese toy company that painstakingly makes replicas of food and other such items. ) I own a crap-tonne, which I do believe is the official unit of measurement for such useless items bought with too much disposible income.
Anyway, I then started to look at the amazing model creations of photographer James Casebere, who creates replicas of certain locales and photographs them in such a way that leaves the viewer unable to distinguish between what is real and what is miniature. In facsimile way, I'm trying to achieve the same thing, but with the 1:6 scale Barbie-type items that I have. Every time I set up a scene I become inspired to push the believability from being a scene of miniatures to an image which will give the viewer pause and wonder if what they are seeing is human-sized or otherwise. I've only done a handful so far, but I find that I'm having an amusing time creating my own bedspreads and books and crap in order to combat that utterly-awful shiny Barbie feel that the store-bought pieces have. Yes, I'm a dork, but I'm not the only one.
So I was bored last Friday and decided to waste some time by photographing my Re-ment collection. (For those of you not in the know/not young women into teeny, tiny replicas, Re-ment is a Japanese toy company that painstakingly makes replicas of food and other such items. ) I own a crap-tonne, which I do believe is the official unit of measurement for such useless items bought with too much disposible income.
Anyway, I then started to look at the amazing model creations of photographer James Casebere, who creates replicas of certain locales and photographs them in such a way that leaves the viewer unable to distinguish between what is real and what is miniature. In facsimile way, I'm trying to achieve the same thing, but with the 1:6 scale Barbie-type items that I have. Every time I set up a scene I become inspired to push the believability from being a scene of miniatures to an image which will give the viewer pause and wonder if what they are seeing is human-sized or otherwise. I've only done a handful so far, but I find that I'm having an amusing time creating my own bedspreads and books and crap in order to combat that utterly-awful shiny Barbie feel that the store-bought pieces have. Yes, I'm a dork, but I'm not the only one.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Goofin' Around
Came up with this last night just because I was bored. I'd probably re-tool all my thesis images, but I don't want to beat a dead horse. Anyway, I like the light complementary color scheme + the rounded doorways reinforce the space-pod/alien-egg feel that the plastic domes already had.
It's like: abandoned farm houses...from the FUTURE!
It's like: abandoned farm houses...from the FUTURE!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Notes to Myself, part 2.
I’ve been thinking about doing photography exclusively again at least for a while. It, in some ways, seems absurd that I should abandoned the sculptural way of working, when the ink on my newly minted MFA isn’t even dry, but I need a break. Even though three years has passed since the inception of me being a sculptor, in a broad sense, I still don't feel any more comfortable with the processes now than I did then. I was lambasted the other day for referring to my objects as "props for photography". It wasn't said in derisiveness; it was exactly what I meant to say. I see a direct, uncompromising relationship between my sculpture and my image-making.
That said, I think the pendulum is swinging back to my photography roots, and why shouldn't it? My relationship with the craft came a long time ago and hardly seems profitable to abandon it completely.
Object-making fills the time, but discovering a sense of place as it can be recorded is my ultimate goal.
That said, I think the pendulum is swinging back to my photography roots, and why shouldn't it? My relationship with the craft came a long time ago and hardly seems profitable to abandon it completely.
Object-making fills the time, but discovering a sense of place as it can be recorded is my ultimate goal.
Notes to Myself, part 1.
I think I might know where to go from here. Need, crisper, clearer images, from a better camera- more epic proportions. Need to play with scale and camera angles, orientation. Have all the parts, just need to re-organize.
Look at more art. Be more sensitive to what artists are doing. Try to grow as an artist and scholar. Quit being at once both self-doubting and complacent.
I’m afraid for the future, but I also know that in a day to day sense, my vision is short-sighted. I think about what the next months will be like instead of what I CAN do in years to come. I’ve always had a job in some capacity, an apartment, horrible and crappy as they were, and in retrospect, none of that matters. Who cares that in 2003 I lived with a leaky bathtub, or that I only made $11/hour? I care that I “suffer”, but the suffering is only temporary. Those previous situations didn’t ruin my life. The two issues that do stick out were: Letting myself be taken advantage of in the corporate world and not making art, and those things were constants under different living conditions. In years to come, the art is the only thing that matters. Do I really give a fuck that Henry Darger was a janitor in comparison to the treasure trove he left behind? Would I discredit the man for not being a professional? So what’s the difference if that happens to me?
Art must endure, no matter what.
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