group exhibition: off the wall

i will be exhibiting a variation of whisper in off the wall, the annual three-dimensional art exhibition with CAAG (canmore artists and artisans guild). there will be books, lights, pillows and a tent. drop by and take a look between october 22 and november 8.

invitation: your thoughts, like stars

i received the invitation for my solo show in november at profiles: art gallery of st. albert. they did a great job considering all of my pieces are still in process. they combined several of the elements that will be in the exhibition: books (natch), cosmological images and light. i will be posting more information about the pieces in the next week. for now, here are the invite images:

the conclusion of asher lev: the final conclusion

as i leave my discussions and thought about my name is asher lev, i would like to leave you with a blessing. it is the blessing that the Rebbe gives asher as he releases him to develop his talent and gift:

i wish you a long and healthy life. i give you my blessings for greatness in the world of art and greatness in the world of your people. (p. 271)

it is good to be blessed. i hope that you have had the experience of being blessed, whether by a father, a brother, a spiritual leader, a stranger. i hope you have been blessed as a father, mother, daughter, son. i hope you have been blessed as an artist. be blessed.

(we could all use a little more blessing)

the conclusion of asher lev, pt. 2

i will end my posts about my name is asher lev by discussing something about its beginning. the novel begins thusly:

My name is Asher Lev, the Asher Lev, about whom you have read in newspapers and magazines, about whom you talk so much at your dinner affairs and cocktail parties, the notorious and legendary Lev of the Brooklyn Crucifixion.

I am an observant Jew. Yes, of course, observant Jews do not paint crucifixions. As a matter of fact, observant Jews do not paint at all--in the way that I am painting. So strong words are being written and spoken about me, myths are being generated: I am a traitor, an apostate, a self-hater, an inflicter of shame upon my family, my friends, my people; also, I am a mocker of ideas sacred to Christians, a blasphemous manipulator of modes and forms revered by Gentiles for two-thousand years.

Well, I am none of those things. And yet, in all honesty, I confess that my accusers are not altogether wrong: I am indeed, in some way, all of those things.

The fact is that gossip, rumors, mythmaking and news stories are not appropriate vehicles for the communication of nuances of truth, those subtle tonalities that are often the truly crucial elements in a casual chain.So it is time for the defense, for a long session in demythology. But I will not apologize. It is absurd to apologize for a mystery.

(p. 9)

it is a curious thing to start a novel by explaining that the story is not the story -- that this story about art is not about surfaces, but about what lies beneath, and that that story is more often a mystery. and that is really what art does. it presents you with a surface, but that surface has depth. or, at least, it should. art is an onion, or a cake (one of my favourite art metaphors). it has layers. you absorb it. it becomes part of you.

this introduction is also instructive in being careful about reading too much of the artist into the work. of course, the artist's experiences, culture, identity all play into the kind of work they make, but - while these things may inform the work's creation - they do not necessarily limit the work to those contexts and interpretations. possible readings will shift depending on where and how we encounter the work. hopefully, the work also speaks to larger ideas about art, ideas, human experience.

so let's look at the image potok created of Brooklyn Crucifixion, lev's infamous painting:

the painting could offend people on numerous levels: as a cubist work, subbing its nose at mimesis and realism; as an expressionist work, with its twisting of space and modernist language; and the crucified figure (the artist?) could offend both jew (it depicts a gentile event) and christian (it depicts someone other than jesus). on the other hand, it is a painting about those visual traditions - a rupturing of space and time, reflective of the modern human condition; it is a painting about human suffering, both individual and tribal; it is about the public's potential to attack the artist/ writer for the content and/or delivery of the work.

the question always is: can we move beyond those [initial] surface elements and create a composite of possible meanings? can we move beyond that first reaction, and tune into the wealth of responses available to us as we enter into the work's story, including both the imagery, style, scale and context (material and conceptual) as well as the artist's personal experiences and how they may inform its production and content (or not)? can we take the time to read the story rather than trying to condense (and therefore limit) the work to a sentence?

please?

the conclusion of asher lev, pt. 1

before i leave chaim potok's my name is asher lev, i wanted to touch on a few more ideas (again). near the end of the book, after a major exhibition in which the various spheres of faith, family, inspiration and commerce collide, and after a series of discussions and meetings with representatives of those spheres, asher thinks this:

Asher Lev, Hasid. Asher Lev, painter. I looked at my right hand, the hand with which I painted. There was power in that hand. Power to create and destroy. Power to bring pleasure and pain. Power to amuse and horrify. There was in that hand the demonic and the divine at one and the same time. The demonic and the divine were two aspects of the same force. Creation was demonic and divine. Creativity was demonic and divine. Art was demonic and divine. The solitary vision that put new eyes into gouged-out sockets was demonic and divine. I was demonic and divine. Asher Lev, son of Aryeh and Rivkeh Lev, was the child of the Master of the Universe and the Other Side. Asher Lev paints good pictures and hurts people he loves. Then be a great painter, Asher Lev; that will be the only justification for all the pain you will cause. But as a great painter I will cause pain again if I must. Then become a greater painter. But I will cause pain again. Then become a still greater painter. Master of the Universe, will I live this way all the rest of my life? Yes, came the whisper from the branches of the trees. Now journey with me, my Asher. Paint the anguish of all the world. Let people see the pain. But create your own molds and your own play of forms for the pain. We must give a balance to the universe.

Yes, I said. Yes. My own play of forms for the pain. (p. 348)

asher is determined to walk out his vision of, and conviction about, the artist and the role he plays in society. he is willing to offend and hurt, though not maliciously - more as an unfortunate effect of painting the truth as he sees it. he is willing to be mocked and criticized. he is willing to bear rejection and exile. he seems to acknowledge the moral aspect of the work, its emotional and even spiritual content and effects. he knows there are choices to be made as one creates, and sometimes those choices may be hurtful, and even seen as evil. and yet, the work must be made, and truth must be its subject - regardless of consequences.

the question is: is that the kind of balance the artist brings? is that the artist's role? to bring a kind of balance to the universe? what kind of balance? the fact is that the power of the artist to move, shake, confront can be twisted and abused. the artist must make a choice as to how to use that power. it would seem that the artist's task of putting "new eyes into gouged-out sockets" is a painful one. and necessarily so. [asher recognizes that] there is a choice the artist must make. does the artist become an instrument for the demonic? or does he choose to become an instrument for the divine? or tool. or weapon. a technology. a techne. and perhaps that doesn't look like we expect it to.

so then, here's the question: is that pain necessary? is the quickest way to a heart through a wound? it reminds me of an anish kapoor quote:

there are two kinds of artists in the world: those who reveal the wound, and those who hope to heal it.

so. which are you? which am i?