A recent exhibition of photographer Henry Wessel's work at the San Francisco Museum of Art gave me a great deal to think about. Wessel's subtly humorous observation of California landscape and architecture is well known; in the tradition of Robert Frank, Gary Winogrand, and Lee Friedlander, his black-and-white prints gracefully capture the spontaneous and startling beauty in the everyday. Compared to Wessel's other work, this piece stands apart by observing similarity rather than recording a unique moment in time. The rhythmic repetition of 40 small, similarly bland homes against sunny blue-sky backgrounds, photographed straight-on and identically framed, has a safe, soothing quality.
The presentation suggests an easy way to display art in the home. Any group of photos with similar subject matter would work, and the grid system is flexible for as many images and configurations as you want. A postcard collection would look fantastic displayed this way, or it could become an ongoing project for vacation photos, if you snap a similar shot for the collection each time you take a trip.
Continue reading "Home, Sweet Home, Sweet Home, Sweet Home…" »
When artist Cindy Bainbridge was looking for design inspiration to build a freestanding gallery work space on her 40-acre Pittsboro, North Carolina, farm, she turned to Home—and found an addition that Austin, Texas, architect Michael Antenora designed for himself and his family. Featured in the magazine's January/February 2006 issue, the modern structure had a quirky laundry-room bump-out with an asymmetrical roof and bold exterior colors.
"As soon as I saw the picture, I knew it was exactly what I'd been looking for," says Bainbridge. "It was simple and direct and would evoke the farm buildings in this area." So she created a 1/8-inch scale model out of cardboard, had blueprints drawn by a draftsman, and hired two local craftsmen to build it.
The 535-square-foot outbuilding includes a kitchen, bathroom, and sleeping loft–meditation room and cost approximately $48,000 to construct. All of the windows, doors, and light fixtures came from the Habitat Thrift store and rang up at about $350.
"Since this is a working studio, I left the walls unpainted to encourage the creative process, which, for me, can be messy" says Bainbridge.—BrickChick
A small cardboard box rests on the shelves next to my easel at home. The austere container belies the treasures that lie within its drab confines. Only the mysterious black-winged dragon and the singular message "depuis [since] 1720," that emblazon the top hint at the potent contents: spectacularly colored pastels produced by the Paris-based company, H. Roché.
These perfect little sticks wield as much enchantment in my world of art and design as any magic wand. In tandem with water colors, acrylics, and inks, they turn white sheets of paper into riots of pattern, color, and narrative. Not only do they allow me to dress up my home with my own artworks, they connect me to generations of acclaimed artists who depended on the unique pastel hues to create their masterpieces—icons such as Edgar Degas, Edouard Vuillard, Alphonse Legros, Jules Cheret, and Alfred Sisley, to name but a few of the long-departed artists; and Sam Szafran, Pierre Skira, and Irving Petlin to cite some of those among the living. The pastels, which are sold in kits of varying sizes, are still handmade in accordance with the original formulas. In 1999, the trade secrets were passed down to Isabelle Roché, the great-grandniece of Dr. Henri Roché, a chemistry student of the famous scientist Louis Pasteur and a pharmacist, who in 1878 left the profession to purchase a then-158-year-old art-supply shop.
Like Roché, Pasteur was passionate about pastels and worked with him to perfect his production methods. The company, renamed H. Roché, then devoted itself exclusively to making pastels that satisfied the exacting standards of its clientele.
Continue reading "Drawing on the Past" »
The wood shop teacher's message on my voicemail was cheery and brief: "Your son Reed's project is ready to be picked up." Picked up? I called Tim back to ask, “Can't my son just bring it home on the bus?” After a short pause, he said gently, "I'm afraid you'll need a van." We did, and now the bench, shown left, lives in my kitchen until we figure out a better spot for it in our small apartment.
Fortunately, most of my children's art projects aren't this large, but they do have a way of accumulating to the point of threatening to bury the entire family. Some can be winnowed out (yes, I admit it; sometimes I throw them away), but favorite pieces deserve a better fate.
Clamshell boxes are great for storing small drawings, booklets, three-dimensional pieces, seashell art, etc. I made a set of boxes for each child. As each box fills up, I just add another one to the set. The art is protected from light and dust, and can be easily retrieved and enjoyed.
Continue reading "Organizing Children's Artwork " »
 |
Floodwall is an exhibit of drawers found in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. |
Part art exhibit and part memorial, Floodwall comprises 350 furniture drawers that New Orleans native Jana Napoli salvaged from the debris of Hurricane Katrina. Over 225 feet in length, the wall currently stretches along the Liberty Street Bridge in New York City, which overlooks the scene of another tragedy—the World Trade Center site. Among the pieces, scrolling LED signs display some of the memories and messages of the drawers' owners, who were interviewed by Napoli after they identified their property. (When collecting the drawers, the artist assigned a location or a zip code to each, with the hope that one day they would be claimed.)
The artist says she chose the drawers to represent the residents' loss because “they were a symbol everyone could understand.” For months, she drove around the devastated city collecting them, ending up with more than 600. “All the physical evidence [of the people who lived in the city], including photographs, paintings, and letters, was gone,” she says, “so all the things we found in these drawers were sacred.”
Continue reading "An Exhibit About Drawers, Memories, and New Orleans" »
|