Starry Night

"The Starry Night over the Rhone" 1888, Vincent Van Gogh, 28.5 x 36.25. From a show of nocturnal Van Gogh paintings at the New York Museum of Modern Art.

"The sight of the stars always makes me dream. Why should the spots of light in the firmament be less accessible to us than the black spots on the map of France? Just as we take the train to go to Tarascon, we take death to go to a star." Vincent Van Gogh. The year after writing this, at age 37, he committed suicide.


"Street in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer," 1888, Vincent Van Gogh, from an earlier MoMA show.

For years I didn't like Van Gogh's paintings, except for his ultra-famous "The Starry Night." With sunflower images on coffee mugs and shower curtains, it all seemed trivial to me. I couldn't see the content. Recently, I read a book on drawing, with a great chapter on mark-making. A Van Gogh drawing was one of the examples. Suddenly, I came to see a raw energy that speaks so clearly to me. Then I realized it's all there in the paintings. Isn't it delightful to make these discoveries?

When I look at someone's art, I assume it expresses their personality. Would I want to invite that person for dinner? Do I admire their technique, but have no desire to spend more time with them? Or am I too put off to hang around and get to know them?

Looking at Van Gogh's paintings and drawings, I would love to have dinner with him. I imagine him to be a very direct person, perhaps difficult because he's so outspoken, but honest and frank. Maybe he doesn't have a lot of refined social skills, but that might not matter. We could talk about the stars, fairy tales and what makes art meaningful. When I can put those shower curtains out of my head, I really love his drawings and paintings.

Check out the drawing above. ("Street in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer," 1888) You can see the movement of his hand, you can see where he has diluted the ink, where the pen is running out, but he rushes on to finish. The scribbly lines of smoke seem to indicate a hint of a breeze. I wish I could draw like that.

Zine Energy

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Years ago I had a neighbor who made these occasionally, and passed them out to anyone who wanted one. Another neighbor, a childhood friend of his, said that he was "shell shocked" in WWII. Unfortunately she intercepted them when she could because they embarrassed her. Of course I found them so wonderful. I blacked out all family names.


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James Castle

James Castle in his work shed, around 1950. From James Castle: His Life and Art by Tom Trusky. The book contains 172 pages and 100 color and black and white photographs and illustrations. Tom Trusky spent 10 years researching James's life and piecing together a story that is both touching and interesting.

James Castle was born in Garden Valley Idaho, in 1899 or 1900, depending on who you ask. He was labeled as deaf and mute, but is now thought to have been autistic. When he was sent to a school for deaf children, he refused to do his chores or learn a trade. He was sent home as "uneducable." James avoided chores at home, too, disappearing daily to spend his time drawing and making books and other objects. He whittled sticks into pens and made ink with saliva and soot. For paper he used old calendars, junk mail and random bits of paper including labels from cans and empty matchboxes.


These are facsimile James Castle books from the Idaho Center for the Book. They are listed under "previous publications" on the web site. To enlarge the photo above, click on it. For me the interesting thing about these facsimile books is that they are bound in the same way James Castle bound them. One even has a combination of yellow and tan string.


Above is a construction by James Castle from Tom Trusky's article in Raw Vision. Unfortunately they didn't include all the photos in the online version of this article. If you're a fan of Castle's work, this issue might be worth seeking out.

What is it about these books and constructions that are so compelling? Even as reproductions they feel so personal. The imagery, the scribbled lines of "text," the letters that appear to be invented, the codes, all speak of one person's idiosyncratic view of the world. There is humor and sadness there. The humor is in the way he uses the photo album format, or the book format, for his own ends. The sadness is in his self portraits, one shows him with no arms or art supplies, after being kicked out of school.

I like to imagine James hiding away, completely absorbed in making these things. I wonder what he thought about, what he wanted to say. In some ways we can see through his eyes, but we can never see into his mind. He died in 1977. For me, he is alive and talking to me through his books.

In September there will be a James Castle show at the Greg Kucera Gallery in Seattle, WA . Tom Trusky will be giving a slide lecture/presentation titled "James Castle: His Life & Art" Saturday, September 8th at 1pm. He will also be signing copies of his Castle biography. At the bottom of the James Castle page on the Kucera site there is an interesting article from the April 26 - May 2, 2000 issue of the Village Voice.

You might also enjoy this James Castle photo set on Flickr.
And here are two books I have enjoyed about people with Asperger's syndrome:
Up High in the Trees: A Novel, Kiara Brinkman
Born On A Blue Day: Inside the Extraordinary Mind of an Autistic Savant, autobiography, by Daniel Tammet

The Zero Sum Art Project

Most art seems very mysterious. You don't really know how people arrive at their prices, what their materials and techniques are, or where their ideas come from. "Mixed media" or "found objects" isn't really information to my detail-oriented Teutonic mind. Marc Snyder's Zero Sum Art Project isn't like most art. In his ZSAP blog, Marc says "One thing I'm striving for is to make the whole studio process, along with my attempts to follow this set of rules that I invented for myself, as visible to the viewer as possible." This includes lists of his expenses, the materials purchased for the project and even some hints at his creative process.

His rules:
*Artwork can be made only with free/found materials or materials purchased with proceeds from the sale of Zero Sum artworks.

*Zero Sum artwork will be sold on eBay, with the opening bid based solely on the costs of the materials and the auction fees related to the artwork being sold.

*If the artwork sells for a greater amount than the opening bid, any "profit" must go directly back in to the Zero Sum studio.

*If the Zero Sum Art Project is in the red with a balance of negative $5.00 for longer than 2 weeks, the studio collapses and the project is over.

The first artwork was made with free materials: "Heart of Georgia Technical Institute pencil and Radisson Hotel pen on Anti-Defamation League notepad paper." The opening ebay price was $1.77, exactly the cost of the listing. It sold for $22.72.

Zero sum #12 is up for auction on ebay until April 15.

I find this all fascinating. So much that normally remains hidden is revealed for the viewer's scrutiny. Reading over Marc's list of materials, I wonder what he used white spray paint for? Most artists start out by learning techniques, in school, from books or from friends. Over time they probably accumulate a store of invented or adapted processes. What do other people do in the privacy of their studios? Is there an "art secret" that I need to know, to make better work myself? Can I find it in Marc's list of materials?

And no, he's not paying me to say this, he's not my brother-in-law. It's a coincidence that I have mentioned Marc in two recent blog entries.

Wayne Martin Belger's Amazing Pinhole Cameras

Deer Camera, Wayne Martin Belger, Steel, brass, bone and antlers, 24 x 5.

Varnish Gallery has a show of the most incredible pinhole cameras made by Wayne Martin Belger. They are also showing the photos taken with the cameras. There is an article about the show in the San Francisco Chronicle. And check out his web page, Boy of Blue. You can see more cameras, and 360 degree views.

A metaphor for life

Above: Passport, 2005 by Teresa Eaton, mixed media on canvas: acrylic, handmade paper, hand-sculpted polymer clay face, copper leaf, wood, fabric, thread, found objects. 12" x 12" x 2.5"

When I first met Teresa Eaton, I liked her immediately. She is, of course, a nice person. She is also straightforward and very real. And she is very open about her struggle with breast cancer. Here's a quote from the KPFA Crafts and Music Fair site:

"Teresa Eaton gives new life to things that are dying…a metaphor for her life."

"When diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer five years ago, the Santa Clara artist decided to make a radical change in her work. Today, she’s making large, mixed-media collages created from worked and reworked paper, items collected from nature and recyclable items. “I credit the excitement for starting this work for bringing me back to the living,” comments Eaton."

Teresa is very sensitive to her materials. Objects are arranged according to some internal pattern that conveys a sense of order coming out of chaos. Looking at her work, I feel every part has a secret and important message encoded in it.

I admire Teresa so much because she is open about her experiences. She is a tremendous inspiration to me, and to many other people. I think big life events can wrench out of artists a big change in their work. Or some new connection with a desire to create. It's as if, facing death and looking at it square on, we need to make life. It's precious, it's fragile and it's incredibly beautiful.

I am very sad to say that Teresa's breast cancer is back, she is undergoing more chemotherapy right now. I'm thinking good thoughts for her, she is a lovely person. The world is full of beautiful things she has created.

Here are some links to her work:

KPFA Crafts and Music Fair
The Human Artefacts Exhibition (scroll down to see an image that enlarges when clicked)
8th International Collage Exhibition & Exchange

Deborah Barrett at the Palo Alto Art Center

We went to see the Deborah Barrett show at the Palo Alto Art Center. As I was getting ready to go, I thought “is this worth the time?” I have seen Deborah Barrett’s work at the Art Center many times. And I do admire it very much. But this time, I thought, “there will be no surprises, should I stay home and make art?” Boy, was I surprised! Deborah’s collage techniques are varied and fascinating. She incorporates old fabrics by sewing bits to the paper. Sometimes a square of old paper defines the area that a head fills. I thought I would see more of the same. There were certainly lots of wonderful collages. But there were also some figures of women, little heads made of dryer lint, fabric and plaster and a mouse paper doll that she made when she was a child. Her work has changed a lot over a period of ten years, and yet it always has the same small scale, personal element that appeals to me. I want to climb into the frame and look around some more. I want to get into her head and watch her work in her studio.

My favorite collage is “Man and woman pointing at mouse.” (1995) The woman looks fairly womanly, but the man’s body is made of an old rectangle of frayed fabric, so he is very hairy. His nose is very mousey. And his arm that points at the mouse ends not in human fingers, but in little claws. The mouse on the other hand looks like he has stolen a lot from the appearance of the man.

The mouse paper doll is wonderful. Squeaky has ears bigger than his head. And a pair of ear muffs to keep them warm. Mice occur in many of Deborah’s more “mature” works, too. In fact many of the people in her collages have mouse features, and the mice look very human.

There are many lessons here for beginning artists. The things you love as a child are the essence of who you are. And they are a field of ideas for future work. Deborah Barrett says "I make something that has no other purpose in the world except to comfort me."