Sunday, September 6, 2015

Anne Truitt's "Daybook"

Anne Truitt in the studio, 2013, image: annetruitt.org
Unless we are very, very careful, we doom each other by holding onto images of one another based on preconceptions that are in turn based on indifference to what is other than ourselves. This indifference can be, in its extreme, a form of murder and seems to me a rather common phenomenon. We claim autonomy for ourselves and forget that in so doing we can fall into the tyranny of defining other people as we would like them to be. By focusing on what we choose to acknowledge in them, we impose an insidious control on them. I notice that I have to pay careful attention in order to listen to others with an openess that allows them to be as they are, or as they think themselves to be. The shutters of my mind habitually flip open and click shut, and these little snaps form into patterns I arrange for myself. The opposite of this inattention is love, is the honoring of others in a way that grants them the grace of their own autonomy and allows mutual discovery.
Anne Truitt, Daybook, 1982

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Morning View

Morning View, oil on panel, 10x8", 2015

Friday, September 4, 2015

Study: Landscape

Landscape Study, Reclaimed Strip Mine, oil on panel, 5x7", 2015

Frida Kahlo photographs


Beautiful, rarely seen photos of Frida Kahlo at messynessychic




Friday, August 22, 2014

ArtSpace 525 at 525 N. Tryon

I've got new work on display at ArtSpace 525 at 525 N. Tryon. Thanks to Amy Bagwell and Sharon Dowell for including me in Man vs Nature.
Pine Mountain, Kentucky (View from Google Earth), oil, 40x60", 2014

Top: Hazard Strip Mine (View from Google Earth), oil, wax, and coal dust on panel, 16x20", 2013
Right: Pippa Passes Mine (View from Google Earth), oil, wax, and coal dust on panel, 7x5", 2013
Left: Arthur Brothers

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Landscape studies

Carolyn Jacobs, Jacobs' Ridge study #1, oil on canvas panel, 4 x 6", 2013


Carolyn Jacobs, Reclaimed Strip Mine study #1, oil on canvas panel, 4x12", 2013

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Chas Fagan

Chas Fagan at work. See more at chasfagan.com


I spent the morning at Chas Fagan's studio.  I spent the afternoon wondering if I've been doing it all wrong.  Whenever students say "Can I ask you a question?" my standard response is "I have all the answers".  We laugh, and they feel comfortable asking me whatever is on their mind.  I don't bother  telling them that my answers might not be right. I hope they are right....at least for me and them.

Chas Fagan is a Charlotte artist who does big historical commissions around the country.  He's working on a large sculpture of Thomas Spratt and King Hagler (Catawba) right now, and I am lucky enough to be on the selection committee.  This gives me an opportunity to see his work up close.  Chas also completed the bronze sculpture of Captain Jack that sits across the street from my office---it's the sculpture he's working on in the image at top.  I can't show any images of the current project, but what we saw today is a maquette, a scale model that, once approved by the group, must be enlarged from the 2 foot maquette to the approximately 7 foot sculpture.

Chas explained the process, which is complicated, but a traditional method of lost-wax casting that has been utilized since the Greek civilization was at its height. He will enlarge the clay maquette to full scale at the foundry, and then the process of bronze casting will begin.  Here's a link to describe the cire perdue process.  I've done it before---it's a blast, but it's really tough to describe, and not what I'm interested in.

He has a degree in Russian Studies (now there is a useful degree!), but no real formal training in art. He is a historian and student at heart, though.  His studio is filled with research on every historical detail you can imagine regarding his commissions; notes on the topography of the installation site, studies---lots of studies. In the midst of all of this are books on art and artists.  He might not have formal training, but he spends a lot of time looking and researching. He mentioned that John Singer Sargent is a particular favorite, and we talked a little about Caravaggio.

Bust of Lincoln by Chas Fagan. See more at chasfagan.com
Throughout the studio were numerous maquettes in various states of completion.  There were several Lincoln busts like the one above.  There was a maquette of both Bush presidents, together, but still armless, headed to 42's library.  There was a maquette of Ronald Reagan in casual wear that Chas said was "a little too thin" and needed to be revised. There were dozens of maquettes, and all were destined for prominent locations. Casually perched on a desk was a painting of 4 First Ladies---Martha Washington, Jackie Kennedy, Nancy Reagan and Michelle Obama commissioned by C-Span. Honestly... I think he's stronger in sculpture.  But, that said, three of those portraits are nicely done; one is not his strongest work.

Here's a link to an interview with C-Span about his sculpture of Ronald Reagan, installed at the Capitol Rotunda.

Chas Fagan and I come from very different art worlds. Working primarily through commissions and large scale public projects, he has to deal with  a lot of people along the way.  He does it extremely well.  While I do commissions at times, I can't imagine dealing with committees and jumping through all the hoops he has to jump through and trying to please all the people he has to please each step of the way. I would go insane. I'm much more content with making images in my own personal little vacuum and then, if someone happens to fall in love with it after the fact, I get so excited I just want to give it to them with a big, red bow on it. Being in his studio made me conscious that not everyone thinks like I do, and perhaps I should qualify my answers just a little bit more.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

I Went To Spain and.....Part I: Reina Sofia Museum


I suppose it's somewhat silly to begin a post on Spain with photos from the sky, but I actually like these. I'm not a photographer, and I'll never claim to be, but even a blind squirrel can find a few nuts.

Miami, March 2013. Photo by Carolyn Jacobs
Carolyn Jacobs,  Sunrise in Espana, 2013
Not my hotel, Madrid, 2013. Photo by Carolyn Jacobs

Not my hotel, but across the street from my hotel, and a far more interesting building than my hotel in Madrid.  I don't know much about Spanish history, but the first thing I realized--without the aid of any history or guidebooks---is that the Romans were no where near the old city when it was first laid out.  It is a crazy maze of meandering streets that make no sense. I missed me some good old-fashioned Roman urban planning while trying to figure out where the hell I was going in Madrid. Love 'em or hate 'em, those Romans had a good sense of direction. Spaniards....not so much.




In general, Spain's economy is in the toilet. This bank had closed just days before, and protestors had lost their life savings. It was rainy and chilly in Madrid the entire time we were there, but I think there is a general vibe of exhaustion in the city.  People are just hunkered down and hoping to survive.

The Reina Sophia Museum
The Queen Sophia Museum is the modern art museum in Madrid.  The Prado takes you, basically, from the Renaissance into about 1850, and then the Reina Sophia takes over.  The big contemporary exhibit on display was Spanish artist Christina Iglesias, and it was quite lovely. Here's a link to the exhibit: Christina Iglesias: Metonymy
Christina Iglesias at Reina Sophia Museum, Madrid. Photo by Carolyn Jacobs

Christina Iglesias at Reina Sofia Museum, Madrid. Photo by Carolyn Jacobs

Christina Iglesias at Reina Sofia Museum, Madrid. Photo by Carolyn Jacobs

Christina Iglesias at Reina Sofia Museum, Madrid. Photo by Carolyn Jacobs
Here's a link to her website: Christina Iglesias She uses a fairly wide variety of materials, and I particularly like that it feels painterly without forcing it.  The interaction of object and space is beautifully handled.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Faith and Glory

stock photo from Nat Geo
When I was about 25 or so, I visited the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico City.  While there I saw numerous pilgrims crawling tiny step by tiny step across the courtyard to the old Basilica. The old one is sinking into the ground and breaking in half; there is a modern one in the same courtyard. The one in the picture isn't the oldest one---it's just the most famous one---others sit nearby.

I was really struck by the sight of women in skirts and head scarfs crawling forward, knees scraped and bleeding, in some cases, silently crying. Here I was, a tourist, interfering with their private pain, or glory...I'm not sure which. I've often wondered what inspires that kind of faith. I don't really believe the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe--likely it was manufactured to herd the local natives into the Catholic church, but I wonder what switches on in someone's brain to have that kind of faith in something or someone?  I wonder if there is anything or anyone I would crawl across a stone courtyard, bleeding and crying for? Does wisdom and experience make us immune to that kind of faith---be it religious or personal?

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

L.A., in progress

L.A. (in progress), oil on canvas, 11x14" 3 hour session from life
I've reached a point in my life where all I really want to do is paint and draw, and all this other crap just keeps getting in my way. I was woozy and fragile from a 3 hour Benlysta infusion this morning, but this afternoon, I got to paint---and briefly, all was right with the world. This is in progress...I see things I need to change, but I like the way it's going, and he's a really good model.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

I've been thinking about this book a lot lately. Then, this morning as I tidied up my room, I came across an old journal--a journal that documented in painful detail one of the most challenging times in my life. I never want to repeat the experiences mulled over in that journal. It reminded me of the way Tereza was tethered to her emotions, so utterly committed to them in the most fundamental way. I've read this book a couple of times, and it's one of those books that shifts meaning a little each time I read it. The Times review, published in 1984, isn't a gushing one, but one thought caught my eye:
 
"We can hope, with Milan Kundera, not to enact one of his elegant paradoxes in our separate choices and discover that either one leads to the same exhausted end."


The movie is definitely worth seeing, but obviously lacks the nuance of the book. But it's hard to go terribly wrong with Daniel Day-Lewis and Juliette Binoche.
Watch it here:


Saturday, February 23, 2013

A Poutin' House

As I become wiser, I see more clearly the need for a Poutin' House. Everybody needs one....for obvious reasons. So I've begun the search for the perfect Poutin' House for me. 
Then, someday, I'll build it, if only in my mind.



This place is so magical, you couldn't pout for long in it. And it's just as magical on the inside.     Perfect. Click the link below to see more images.



This next one is perfect too---I can't think myself into a corner in it! And, it's recycled material, so I'll feel good about that too. Win + Win = Winning!




Thursday, February 21, 2013

Kentucky School of Craft



So much opportunity!
How do you convince people that the arts are a viable way of life? 
Can you teach old dogs new tricks?  
Here is a place dedicated to making art, and it sits virtually empty. What would you do with an empty building, a community that's only mildly interested and under-employed, many of whom have probably never stepped into a museum, and a license to make some magic?

I'm not going to pretend I have all the answers, but I do know that a lot of success comes from building a sense of community and a feeling of positive energy. No, not everyone who walks through the door will make a living as an artist, but taking advantage of the opportunities that are handed to you isn't just about workforce development. Creativity is what sets the individual apart, and studying the arts is a mighty fine way to explore that.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Tim Flach photographs

  
Tim Flach, see more at www.timflach.com



Tim Flach is a photographer whose work is somehow both epic and intimate at the same time. And they are beautifully, perfectly composed. Don't spend time thinking too much....just look.

Tim Flach

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Carolina Dreaming

You and Me, Carolyn Jacobs, c.2005, oil, wax and sand on paper
Last night I dreamed I was inside one of my paintings. Underground, forced to scoot around because it was so cramped  I couldn't even crawl.  It looks very different though, because now I realize I've always painted the scene from the outside, looking in.  A small shaft of light illuminated the space, which was populated with amazingly large creepy crawly creatures. I was searching for something terribly important, and I knew what it was during the dream, but now that I'm awake, I've lost it.  I searched for a long time though.

I love and hate such a vivid experience------

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Hey! My eyes are up here!!

I often say how much I love my job. I'm never bored and often opportunities to do really interesting things just drop in my lap---murals, collaborations with the symphony, meeting interesting people...many days bring something new and unexpected.

When someone wants to donate art to the institution, I sometimes go out and photograph it and get a sense of whether or not it's something suitable for the permanent collection. That's what I did today. I trekked waaaay out of town to a lovely, exclusive home in a gated community to see some work. Now, I had TONS of grading to do back at the office. Tons. So I probably wasn't in my most accommodating frame of mind.

A mature man opened the door and quickly showed me a series of nice, but 1970's dated looking works. Probably not something we'd invest in, but they certainly weren't awful. I turned my attention from the images and asked "Did you purchase these yourself? Why are you getting rid of them?"

"My tastes have changed" he told my breasts.

I turned my head, and looked around his home, which was tastefully and expensively furnished and zeroed in on the paintings on the walls.  I could barely contain the shriek of horror I could feel gathering in the core of my being as I recognized.....Thomas Kincaide.

"What's the department like where you teach?" he asked my cleavage.

"Which campus are you based?" he inquired of my nipples.

"How many students go there?" he mentally undressed my chest.

It took several more minutes before he gathered the information I needed about the work....during which time I was mocked by Kincaide images of sickeningly sweet cottages and brooks and flowers that do not die, and manufactured light that drills through my eye with shrieking "eek, eek, eek" that sounds like the stabs in the shower scene of Psycho in my head.

It was one of those times in my life when my exit felt more like an escape.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

The Charlotte Observer has 5 questions for Marek Ranis

Marek Ranis, Albedo-Carpets, 2007, 7' x 6', wool. Handmade by Tibetan
refugees in Katmandu, Nepal; based on Albedo paintings.
No child labor was used to produce the rugs.
 
He's not an art historian, but otherwise, this is a nice little Q&A! Go Marek, my friend!

Marek Ranis makes multimedia work about social issues like climate change and war. And he's a really cool guy. In this Q&A, he talks about his work and how Americans tend to view it versus Europeans:

"There is something special in America and Charlotte. People are much more willing, especially at the openings, to talk to others, much more open to engage in some kind of conversation. They ask questions and are more willing to say I don’t understand or question the work. I really enjoy that exchange more than Europe where people are a little bit more jaded and they feel like they don’t want to show they don’t know something."

Read more at the Charlotte Observer

Article by Joanne Spataro


Visit Marek's' website: Marek Ranis



Read more here: http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2012/11/07/3650050/marek-ranis.html#storylink=cpy

“It is a sign of great inner insecurity to be hostile to the unfamiliar.”

Oh, this is the best explanation of the importance of the writer and artist in society:


"Educators do all in their power to prepare you to enjoy reading after college. It is right that you should read according to your temperament, occupations, hobbies, and vocations. But it is a sign of great inner insecurity to be hostile to the unfamiliar, unwilling to explore the unfamiliar. In science, we respect the research worker. In literature, we should not always read the books blessed by the majority. This trend is reflected in such absurd announcements as “the death of the novel,” “the last of the romantics,” “the last of the Bohemians,” when we know that these are continuous trends which evolve and merely change form. The suppression of inner patterns in favor of patterns created by society is dangerous to us. Artistic revolt, innovation, experiment should not be met with hostility. They may disturb an established order or an artificial conventionality, but they may rescue us from death in life, from robot life, from boredom, from loss of the self, from enslavement.

When we totally accept a pattern not made by us, not truly our own, we wither and die. People’s conventional structure is often a façade. Under the most rigid conventionality there is often an individual, a human being with original thoughts or inventive fantasy, which he does not dare expose for fear of ridicule, and this is what the writer and artist are willing to do for us. They are guides and map makers to greater sincerity. They are useful, in fact indispensable, to the community. They keep before our eyes the variations which make human beings so interesting. The men who built America were the genuine physical adventurers in a physical world. This world once built, we need adventurers in the realm of art and science. If we suppress the adventure of the spirit, we will have the anarchist and the rebel, who will burst out from too narrow confines in the form of violence and crime."

Anais Nin, 1949 (Diary of Anais Nin, Vol 5)

From Brain Pickings

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Beverly McIver, The Mint Museum and Me !

Ohhhh, this is going to be fun! I'm helping out Mint Museum's master educator Rita Shumaker by leading a painting session on expressionist figure painting on November 20 (6:30-8:30).  This is one session only in a three session class that's in conjunction with Beverly McIver's exhibit at the Mint. 

Beverly McIver, Renee Moving Away, oil on canvas, 48x48", 2003 courtesy Mint Museum
It's a lovely little show...intimate, containing primarily portraits of the artist's mother and mentally disabled sister. It's gestural and direct, and there seems to be great joy within the works.  I saw just just moments after viewing the big Giacometti exhibit at the Bechtler, and the contrast was marked. The stillness and structural veil of Giacometti's work compared to the intimacy and directness of McIver's---two wildly differing approaches, but both dealing with psychological status.

Here's a link to the exhibit: Reflections: Portraits by Beverly McIver at the Mint Museum

And here's a link to the artist's website: Beverly McIver



Contact the Mint if you're interested in the class (but do it soon)!

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Everything Comes to an End



I read this a couple of weeks ago, and it has been haunting me. When he was 22, Stieg Larrson wrote this letter to his girlfriend, to be opened in the event of his death. 27 years later, it was. It is beautiful, haunting and bittersweet for me.

Stockholm,
February 9, 1977

Eva, my love,


It's over. One way or another, everything comes to an end. It's all over some day. That's perhaps one of the most fascinating truths we know about the entire universe. The stars die, the galaxies die, the planets die. And people die too. I've never been a believer, but the day I became interested in astronomy, I think I put aside all that was left of my fear of death. I'd realized that in comparison to the universe, a human being, a single human being, me...is infinitely small. Well, I'm not writing this letter to deliver a profound religious or philosophical lecture. I'm writing it to tell you "farewell." I was just talking to you on the phone. I can still hear the sound of your voice. I imagine you, before my eyes...a beautiful image, a lovely memory I will keep until the end. At this very moment, reading this letter, you know that I am dead.


There are things I want you to know. As I leave for Africa, I'm aware of what's waiting for me. I even have the feeling that this trip could bring about my death, but it's something that I have to experience, in spite of everything. I wasn't born to sit in an armchair. I'm not like that. Correction: I wasn't like that...I'm not going to Africa just as a journalist, I'm going above all on a political mission, and that's why I think this trip might lead to my death.


This is the first time I've written to you knowing exactly what to say: I love you, I love you, love you, love you. I want you to know that. I want you to know that I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. I want you to know I mean that seriously. I want you to remember me but not grieve for me. If I truly mean something to you, and I know that I do, you will probably suffer when you learn I am dead. But if I really mean something to you, don't suffer, I don't want that. Don't forget me, but go on living. Live your life. Pain will fade with time, even if that's hard to imagine right now. Live in peace, my dearest love; live, love, hate, and keep fighting...


I had a lot of faults, I know, but some good qualities as well, I hope. But you, Eva, you inspired such love in me that I was never able to express it to you...


Straighten up, square your shoulders, hold your head high. Okay? Take care of yourself, Eva. Go have a cup of coffee. It's over. Thank you for the beautiful times we had. You made me very happy. Adieu.


I kiss you goodbye, Eva.


From Stieg, with love.


From Letters of Note