what a bad-ass: Ai Weiwei

An artist with superb craftsmanship, timing and most of all for me, a witty and seemingly constant sense of humor, Ai Weiwei is the biggest bad-ass artist working today. 

detail of Ai Weiwei sculpture installation

It's not just that he critically examines his Chinese government; he critically examines all government and demands accountability. It's his persistent clear voice that cannot be denied. And ultimately, thanks to his poetic images and objects that quietly and relentlessly declare better of humanity, he'll always have the last word. 

Detail of Ai Weiwei installation, Straight, commemorating school children

One Ai Weiwei sculpture is displayed in front of the Sol Lewitt mural on the main wall of museum first floor, making it delightfully easy to consider relationships of minimalism, light and form between the two works.

Ai Weiwei sculpture in front of Sol Lewitt mural

Walk around the works spanning more than 20 years of Ai Weiwei's "According to What?" exhibition and let his insight make you shake your head, nod your head and giggle a few times. 

I did. 

Near that mural is a separate gallery space loaded with thousands of photographs rotating on multiple screens. Be sure to spend a few minutes in there and see some of the ongoing themes in Ai Weiwei's work.

My favorite is the only piece he made when he lived in New York in 1988. It's the most modest in scale but so simple and clever of a sculpture that you have to appreciate it. When you go, look for it and let me know what you think of it.

And let me know if you think he's bad-ass, too. Or if you don't, what artist would you name as a bigger bad-ass?

On view at the Indianapolis Museum of Art through July 21, 2013 (click here to go to IMA website).

Click here for more info and images of the exhibition. Be sure to see the list of events associated with the show, too.

me at the entrance of the IMA

capturing velocity shooting days

My sculptural video installation, titled capturing velocity, was included in the Montana Triennial this year.  In the last week of the exhibition, my friend Doug Ness documented it for me.  
  
The final installation in the Missoula Art Museum looked like this.

capturing velocity, Toni Matlock, © 2012, photo Doug Ness

capturing velocity, detail, Toni Matlock, © 2012, photo Doug Ness

The projection of the video into the granules of salt made a slightly reflective and rough texture that looked something like this.

capturing velocity, detail of projection into salt grains, Toni Matlock, © 2012, photo Doug Ness

***

I shot the video footage over the course of 30 Spring days in Missoula, Montana.  

When it didn't snow or rain, shooting days usually looked something like this:

pointing west, Missoula, ©2012 toni matlock

watching wind, Missoula, ©2012 toni matlo

To follow posts of my artwork, see ToniMatlock.com. 

 
See my earlier post on the making of capturing velocity by clicking here, it's titled knocking myself out. 











See Doug Ness' photography website, too.

a cool little town Columbus, Indiana

We've been getting creative with how we spend time closer to my family in Indiana.  Last Spring we stayed in Columbus, Indiana about twenty minutes south of my hometown, Franklin, on US 31.  And let me tell ya, it was super faboo!

In many ways, Columbus is like a lot of Midwestern small towns.  It has a walkable downtown with long and tall brick buildings and a groovy old movie theater past its hey day (and yes, I fantasized I would move back to Indiana so I could fix up this one).

 

Because it's Indiana and the heart of Limestone country, you'll see carved limestone architectural details in much variety on residential and commercial buildings all around town, if not an entire building.  You just don't see quite as much of that out in the Rocky Mountain states where I live now.

Columbus' downtown has the buildings, vintage signs and details to keep that nostalgic Midwestern small town feel.

But beyond the classic Midwest vibe, Columbus has a bit more to distinguish it.

First, there are several downtown restaurants that are bustling with people day and night, inside and out on the patio.   I took this photo of Tre Bicchieri in the morning before they opened. 

The alleys that fan out from the main street are groomed with detail and some actually lead somewhere worth going, like the Soup Market down this one.  They only sell soup, simply and thoroughly with a selection of several kinds every day, including sides like bread and crackers.

Alive and charged with energy, the city of Columbus has dedicated considerable attention to public spaces including public art. 

Mom at War Memorial, Columbus, Indiana, photo Toni Matlock © 2012

This summer you might even have heard a segment on NPR featuring the architecture in Columbus, particularly Mid-Century Modern.  This is the cities' most obvious bragging rights.  Some of the greatest architects of the United States are represented in Columbus and quite well.  

How about an I.M. Pei library? 

I.M. Pei, Columbus public library

A large Henry Moore sculpture stands in front of it.

Across the street from the library is the First Christian Church designed by Eliel Saarinen.

 First Christian Church, Eliel Saarinen

The playground is sunken and framed by the back end of the church.  With details like these outdoor benches integrated into the structure.

I was really taken with these cement and glass windows in the tower.

 First Christian Church, Eliel Saarinen

Columbus' claim to architectural fame is mostly thanks to a truly generous and civic-minded Cummins Engine Company Executive, J. Irwin Miller. 

"Whatever you do in this world, you've got a responsibility and a privilege of doing it the very best way you can.  And whether it's architecture, cooking or drama or music, the best is none too good for any of us."  J. Irwin Miller  

Amen, brother Miller.

Cummins Headquarters downtown Columbus, Indiana

Tours of J. Irwin Miller's house, built in 1957 and designed by Eero Saarinin is open to the public by appointment.  They didn't allow photographs, so see the Indianapolis Museum of Art's site for touring the Miller house to fill in the visual blanks. 

*** Note: Two Photos of the Miller House added after the original posting, compliments of the Columbus, Indiana Tourism Bureau. ***

Some highlights for me:  
1. The Miller house was the first to have Eero Saarinen's signature modernist "conversation pit".   

First 'conversation pit' design, architect Eero Saarinen, Miller House, Photo © Indianapolis Art Museum

2. Integrated and personalized rugs, drapes and upholstery by Alexander Girard are colorful and thoughtful in how they relate physically, aesthetically and symbolically to the architectural surrounding and the family that would be living there.
3. The subtle natural light in the interiors that gently creeps down the marble interior walls. A quality not well illustrated in photos and must be experienced in person.
4. I am also interested in the problems with the design. The challenge of the skylights in a flat roof is no small one.  A great conceptual idea for the subtle natural light but is also problematic in its application since the roof leaks to this day. *
5. The bumpers and terrazzo floor in the driveway.  An excellent detail worth repeating in a space where many of us cut corners. *

*You'll have to go in person to see those last two since they aren't standard photography highlights.

Miller House, architect Eero Saarinen, Columbus, Indiana, photo © Indianapolis Art Museum

Beyond the Miller house, there are more Primo architectural specimens to be found in Columbus.  I am only touching on a few.  Definitely see the Visitor's Center for maps and tours.  I especially liked the self-guided cell phone tour that comes in a stack of post card sized descriptions of each point on the tour with a number to call for more details about the building.

It's not just the Mid-Century Modern architecture that's worth attention, either. We stayed in a sweet little Victorian that we found on VRBO (Vacation Rentals By Owner).  It was only a few blocks from downtown, so we walked everywhere everyday.

Living room of "The Little Pink House" in Columbus, Indiana

If you stroll the neighborhoods and are a fan of architecture, you'll find many structures, proportions, materials and details worth noticing.  

One of the more classic homes is the Italianate Irwin house built in 1864 that is now an Inn. Even though it's spendy, I would really like to stay there sometime. Here is a glimpse of it with some pictures I awkwardly took through the fence.

Photo taken through the fence of the Gardens at the Irwin Inn, Columbus, Indiana.

Holy smokes they were paying attention to detail when they built this place.  I walked by it several times and noticed something on every pass. On about the fifth round, my sister, D, noticed that each of the carved limestone faces on the ends of this window sill are different.  One has sunflowers and the other has some kind of ivy pattern.

Copper drip edges and gutters, slate shingles, wrought iron fencing, gardens, and so on and so on. The place has it's share of craftsmanship to appreciate. These curved windows in this copper-trimmed bay window are outstanding. 

It's not just the bay that is rounded. Look closely. So are the windows and the glass in them.

As I said, from the street the photo opportunities are limited.  One day I will go back and take the full tour of this place.

I'm barely touching on all the reasons why we enjoyed staying in Columbus, Indiana.  We met friends downtown almost daily for coffee, lunch, dinner or drinks.  We took my parents downtown several times and of course you can't go far in most parts of southern Indiana without someone knowing my Dad and stopping to say hello, as happened here as well.  But more than that, we wanted to be there.  The Columbus community felt welcoming and exciting with people of all ages eating, visiting and socializing. Sadly I cannot say the same for enough of the southern Indiana towns I (re)visited that hardly have any activity in their downtown anymore.  Not beyond a bar or two it seems.  Anyway, I won't pretend to know the secret but Columbus appears to be doing something right. 

So if you go to Columbus, Indiana, keep an eye out for two of the finest unofficial Ambassadors of Columbus:  One of my pals from Franklin College, Morlock, and his fiance Erin.  (Since Erin works at the Columbus Visitor's Bureau I guess that makes her official, but even if she didn't work there, I bet she would still bubble over with pride for Columbus.)

Here's Morlock in front of their mid-century modern home. He might try to wring my neck for posting this, but let's see if he ever notices.

And one more thing about visiting pretty much anywhere in the southern half of the state of Indiana.  Whenever you see local produce, get it.  From tomatoes to these pie cherries, you won't regret it.

Fresh picked pie cherries, Columbus, Indiana

Be sure to listen to the Weekend Edition NPR segment on the architecture in Columbus, Indiana (click here). 

See images of the Miller House on the IMA website (click here). 

Get information from the Columbus, Indiana Visitor's Bureau website (click here). 

Information to stay at The Inn at Irwin Gardens in Columbus (click here). 

*** Note: Two Photos of the Miller House added after the original posting, compliments of the Columbus, Indiana Tourism Bureau. ***

remembering still feathers

Near the end of working on one side of the Good Bones remodeling project, a cedar waxwing crashed into a kitchen window.

It hit the window so hard that some of its feathers stuck to the glass of the window.

feathers left © 2011 Toni Matlock

feathers still © 2011 Toni Matlock

I turned to a fellow artist, Stephanie Frostad, for solace and she made a painting in honor of the sweet bird.

Hapless Waxwing © 2011 Stephanie J. Frostad

Stephanie currently has an exhibition of her art titled 'Natural Circumstances' on view in Seattle, Washington at Davidson Galleries until September 1st.  Be sure to visit the show in person if you can.

knocking myself out

documentation of shoot with iPhone using TiltShiftApp by Toni Matlock ©2012

We have all said it, right?  

Knock yourself out.

It’s meant as a phrase of encouragement but mostly casually and without much pressure. Right?

still frame from "capturing velocity" by Toni Matlock ©2012

Well this past spring, I said it to myself and accidentally did a doozy, literally.  It happened in the midst of a studio project.  I have been working on a series of art works that contemplate wind.  The series began when I received an artist’s residency at Jentel in Wyoming in 2011.  (Click here for my posts on the Jentel residency.)  Each work in the series is a study of wind and the human relationship with it.

In the spring of 2012, I set out to document the wind activity in the Missoula valley.  I packed a video camera and a portable windsock and hiked up a ridge where I was confident I would collect good wind activity and have a visually strong shot of the windsock.  I wanted to collect a visual representation of wind.  I wanted to study its patterns and habits through the lens of a camera.  I set out to do so roughly every day.  

still frame from "capturing velocity" by Toni Matlock ©2012

In the first few days I explored the perimeters for the collection.  What would be the boundaries for the piece? Would the location always be the same? How long would I shoot each day?  Which way would I point the camera?  Would it be the same every time?  First, I decided that the camera must always point to the West.  Simply, I preferred the aesthetic of the shot when pointing west.  The windsock looked most alive to me in this direction.  And I always shot in the afternoon, between noon and five o’clock.  Then, in an effort for economy, at first I only shot for 30 seconds, but it felt incomplete, like I was interrupting the shot – interrupting the wind.  In the middle of a gust of wind, with the windsock popping around chattering about the speed and shifting directions, I looked at the time and after 30 seconds were up, I clicked off the record button.  It felt like I was being rude.  The windsock continued bobbing around but I wasn’t capturing it.  I had gone out there for more than this, so I changed my own rule and decided that each day I needed to record a complete thought - the wind’s complete thought.  (Or my perception of it.) I would watch and listen and feel whatever I concluded that would be.  I let the wind be as expressive or quiet as it appeared it wanted to be each day.  I shot up to 10 minutes in a day as long as I recorded a single ‘complete thought’ from the wind.  I did it for 30 days.

still frame from "capturing velocity" by Toni Matlock ©2012

So there I went, each day in a routine of charging camera batteries, loading the camera and its supporting parts into my pack, strapping a tripod to the back of it, heaving the entire bundle onto my back and carrying the 2-piece metal portable windsock in my arms like a baby.  I never hiked very far, but I always went uphill.  Each day, after placing the windsock, setting up the camera and selecting the frame of the shot, I sat with the wind.  On beautiful clear days, when the wind was low or still, I wished for it.  I longed for the slightest breeze. I made note of the different birds that I met.  I paused to enjoy their chatter.  I peered across the valley and measured the clarity of the air from one day to the next.  On cold, rainy, tumultuous days, I hid under raincoats and fought the wind to cover my camera and protect it and simultaneously rejoiced the dynamic performance of the windsock.  I also wondered, repeatedly on cold or wet days, who the hell’s idea is this?  Why am I sitting out here with a storm rolling over?  Oh, right.  I decided to do this.  Steady on. 

On one particularly crappy day, I hastily packed my gear.  The tripod dangled a little too high off the pack.  When I reached the location where I wanted to shoot and started to take off the pack, I forgot to unclip one clasp low on my waist, so the load fell back and all its weight pulled hard at my waist.  Instinctively I shifted forward and launched the load up on my back again.  In doing so, the dangling tripod went too far and cracked me in the back of the head.  I went black and dropped to my knees.  One knee landed hard on a pointy rock.  Without thinking, I quickly stood and unleashed myself from the pack and let it drop to the ground as if it were a bomb from which I needed to distance myself.  I sat down again on thorny weeds and rocks. Everything slowed down.  The chirping of birds distorted like I was under water. When I heard the train huffing along below me in the valley, I laughed out loud.  I just knocked myself out.  I looked around but no one was there to see what a silly thing I had done.  I felt like a cartoon without an audience.

still frame from "capturing velocity" by Toni Matlock ©2012

Eventually, I forced myself up and continued with my shoot.  On that wet, cold, and windy day I wondered more than most other days what brought me to this place - this place of working out conflict and connection with a camera. When I finally hiked off the mountain, I felt my questions answered and yet persisting more than they had been before. 

I’m sharing this story partly because I think it’s funny.  It’s funny in that it reveals how confusion and mistakes can give way to clarity and humility right when you need it.  At least it reveals that to me.   

still frame from "capturing velocity" by Toni Matlock ©2012

The culminating video, a compilation of the 30 days of shooting, is four and a half hours in length and titled “capturing velocity”.  I present the video as a projection into a white porcelain-enameled cast iron sink filled with salt.  You look down into the sink, to watch the video on the grains of salt.  It is on view at the Missoula Art Museum as part of the 2012 Montana Triennial exhibition until August 26th.  To find it, enter the Museum, go up the stairs, turn left, go left again and up more stairs.  The piece is in the far corner.  MAM is open every day this summer. 

I’ll also be giving a brief talk about the piece and my process at MAM during First Friday on Friday, around 7pm August 3^rd.  Please come on by if you are in town. 

A sample of video from "capturing velocity":

fantastic flying books

App on Tap:

If you have fears and concerns with digital technology destroying the book, creativity and any art of the hand, you must spend some time with The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore on the iPad. The creators call it an 'interactive storybook,' that also fits into a fast growing trend called enhanced books.  This one, though, absolutely leads in raising the bar for interactivity and art direction in apps.  It's visually stunning for starters.  And it's creatively inspiring. 

The app-book evolved in conjunction with a short animated movie by the same creative team, Moonbot Studios.  Morris Lessmore is "Inspired in equal measures, by Hurricane Katrina, Buster Keaton, The Wizard of Oz, and a love for books, "Morris Lessmore" is a story of people who devote their lives to books and books who return the favor."   Once you have the app, be sure to watch the 'Making Of' video to get a glimpse into some details and concepts of the craftsmen behind the finished work, including the 1/6 and 1/12 scaled sets.  Morris Lessmore is the vision of a passionate collaboration of artists, indeed.

And the film?  The short animated film is also a warm, elegant tribute to culture and humanity. They'll get my standing ovation when William Joyce and Moonbot Studios takes home an Oscar for outstanding achievements in animated shorts this year!  Bravo! 


Here's a video clip of the iPad app.

To get the app, it costs US$4.99 (click here).

The HD short movie is currently free through iTunes or Vimeo.

not too silly or wild

Friday Flicks:

This week's Friday Flick is really Flicks plural. I want you to know about Art Babble, a website of short videos designed to educate on specific paintings.  Many are specifically arranged for children to tour artworks from collections in different art museums and galleries around the country.  The analysis is pretty basic and a great way to encourage and compliment a youngster's interest in art (or yours).

For example, below is a video on on Post Impressionist, Vincent Van Gogh's 1889 self-portrait.

It's not all dead white guys either.  They also have some videos on some contemporary art and artists as well.  

Here is Polly Apfelbaum installing "Blossom."

Certain works are specifically part of the Children's Video Tour, like this one:

Jan Steen's "The Dancing Couple" from 1663.





The style of the educational videos vary in the editing, the verbal aspect - lecture vs. thought-provoking questions - and music, so if you don't like one, you may still like others.  You can select specific channels on Art Babble's website to help guide you in your interests, too. 

This Friday Flick is not too silly or wild for turning over a new year, but hey, it could be.   Who knows where it could lead?

Check out Art Babble and Play Art Loud (click here)!

 

the body as medium, Abramovic

Being an artist:

Marina Abramovic on The Artist is Present and how she came to working with the body in her art.  Via MoMA videos.

i love ME says Yayoi Kusama

Being an artist:

Refreshingly secure with herself and with a strong unique vision, it only makes sense that apparently there are two feature documentary films about Yayoi Kusama.  "Princess of Dots" by Heather Lenz is slated to finish this year.

!! If you only have time to watch one of these, I recommend the first one for its tone and insight if you are unfamiliar with her work.

This is the trailer for the 2008 Japanese (with English subtitles) movie "I love ME" about Yayoi Kusama by Director Takako Matsumoto.  You can rent this film to watch online for 48 hours through New People Artist Series. Or buy it of course. For more information on this film, visit www.NewPeopleArtistSeries.com or www.viz-pictures.com

For another post with my story of seeing a retrospective of Kusama in Paris, see "conquering the Pompidou."

from bored and lost to being an artist; Sophie Calle

Being an artist:

Sophie Calle explains how she started making art in the 70s.  (Video from EGS, the European Graduate School.)

conquering the Centre Pompidou in Paris

Centre Pompidou front entrance

Centre Pompidou logo (the size of my hand) embedded in cobblestones of plaza

We visited the Centre Pompidou several times.  With just the right bustling vibe, it feels like the center of town to me even if not geographically the center of Paris.  I was really attracted to this neighborhood.  I kept wanting to go back to it and wander the streets. And we did. 

Riding the escalators up each floor along the exterior frame of the building gives a wonderful peek over the tops of buildings across the city.  The motion feels appropriate with the setting. 

On one of the balconies of Centre Pompidou

 Basilique du Sacre-Coeur at Montmartre in the distance

Jugglers, entertainers and passerbys dashing around the plaza at the entrance. 

 

We spent one visit to the museum in the Edvard Munch exhibit.  Munch is most known for painting The Scream (1890s) which is not there, but I don't think the exhibit needed it.  This exhibition, called The Modern Eye, runs until the first week of January 2012 and demonstrates the variety in the artist's work including his experimentation with photography in the early 1900s.  I was really glad to see his photographs.  While not as layered, expressive and well, obviously painterly, as his paintings, and well after his break from the current trend of Impressionism, they  show his effort to use photography as another medium for probing the psyche. Self-portrait after self-portrait trying to capture an image of  anxiety or an image of the tortured soul.  Munch made so many sensitive paintings in his pursuit of making the soul visible. He returned to the same setting to paint and repaint similar scenes.  He revisits girls on bridges repeatedly; figures flow like thick water, into ground, into sky.  One red-headed figure of a girl felt so present, you could feel her longing; she made me think of my red-headed niece for the rest of the day.   

Another day we spent combing the collection. Because it's a European museum, logically there are more samples of European artists in their collection than we  see in the U.S. I found this refreshing. The Pompidou's collection has great range, and for me it was such a pleasure to see pieces by so many avant-garde artists, Fluxus artists, and so on.  They have Plight, a Joseph Beuys installation of a pair of rooms lined with felt and a grand piano in it, that for all the pictures you ever see, standing in the room and feeling that installation can take your breath away. (They also have Infiltration Homogen for Grand Piano (1966), a piano wrapped in industrial felt, which pairs with the room installation quite well.)

Mmm, and works by Andre Breton and Piero Manzoni. 

Piero Manzoni, Achrome, 1959

I discovered a few artists new to me, including this sculptor, Dorothea Tanning.  

Dorothea Tanning, de quel amour, 1970

I could go back tomorrow and spend more hours.   I could spend days.


The first times we visited the museum, we always went up an escalator on the left side. According to the museum pamphlets it seemed all exhibits were reached by going that direction. One day, we ventured up the right escalator to see the small exhibit by the artist who won this year's Marcel Duchamp award, Cyprien Gaillard.  I couldn't clearly tell by the signage that any more exhibitions were up that side of the museum or particularly, how to get to them.   

Except, I saw a modest sign on a wall that said Yayoi Kusama. The polka dot artist! 

I thought there might be a little room of her paintings or a video behind that wall.  When I headed that way with my regular museum pass, I was turned away by the ticket taker. She didn't say much but I couldn't understand her French anyway. (Surprisingly, this didn't happen very often to me, by the way.  I usually got the gist of whatever French communications I had.) Anyway, wanting to see what else was up the escalator on the right side, I went to the main counter and bought more special collection tickets, this time asking specifically for Yayoi. It was our last day and I am so glad that I was so determined.  More than I even imagined, there was a whole half floor of art hiding over there.  It was a Yayoi Kusama retrospective! 

No. B. 62, detail, by Yayoi Kusama, from m.ariii's photostream

Many paintings, sculptures and installations were on display spanning her career.  I have only seen documentation of Kusama's work - never had I seen it in person.  The textures of the various obsessive mark-making and layers of materials are impressive.  Even though obsessive, her training comes through in the sense of pattern and strong use of form to command the eye.

When walking through one of her famous polka dot room installations, with mirrored walls and red and white inflated polka dot sculptures, I stood in the far corner to take it all in.  A french woman squealed at me in French.  I started with my clumsy, "Je ne sais pas..." to explain I don't speak French.  She quickly said in English, "You are part of the art!  You are an artiste!"  I looked down at my red sweater and a long black scarf with white polka dots.  We all laughed.

Here is a 2008 video clip of the same installation on display in La Villette, France.

The Yayoi Kusama exhibit is on view until January 9th of 2012.  (I didn't see this next piece from Gagosian while in Paris, but it's a good sample of Kusama's inflatable sculptures.  They really fill up the room.)

Yayoi Kusama [Installation view], Gagosian Gallery, a photo by 16 Miles of String on Flickr.

We never figured out how to get to a couple of floors of the museum where there is a public reference library (according to the website) and what looked like a vending machine cafe.  Plus verandas with sculpture outside that I couldn't get near. As fond as I am of libraries, it seemed fine to miss some things this time. Although, not knowing how to get around to those spaces, but seeing them through glass walls and locked glass doors, bugged the shit out of me.  You can imagine my nose pressed to glass!

It's hard to tell by Pompidou's website what exhibits cost what.  We bought some three day passes (you can get 2 day, 5 day or whatever you want) good at many museums around Paris at a vending machine in the lobby, but special exhibitions cost extra.  That's fine by me, I recognize these exhibits usually cost museums a fortune to rent the work from their home museums, have the art shipped and so on, but next time I plan to ask more questions about special exhibits when I buy tickets so I don't miss anything!

MORE:

Read an article on Munch by Tobias Grey in the Wall Street Journal.

Pompidou provides quality educational materials on their website.

Sources:

m.ariii's Photostream

Gagosian Gallery
Centre Pompidou 

*NOTE: I only have a couple of snaps for my notes because the Pompidou allows visitors to take photos of their collection but not borrowed works, like the Kusama show.  

Be sure to watch for Yayoi Kusama and Joseph Beuys features in my coming Being an Artist posts. 

Finally, this (akayheartsyou) person's fun little travel video of Paris that I found on YouTube gives a couple of glimpses of clever art installations at the Pompidou.