INTERVIEW with Eleanor Brennesholtz

Borough Gallery: What the fuck is that bull’s head with the spider eyes!  It freaks me out.  I feel caught in its multi-eyed stare, like I’m about to have my innards sucked out by this placid animal.  How did that monster burgeon from your mind?

Eleanor Brennesholtz: The bulls head was a combination of a few ideas. I wanted to make something that was threatening and easy to understand, but also nod to the surreal. He (the bull) actually started out with the right number of eyes, he ended with a few extra. As a child I remember accidentally spending time in a barn with an angry bull thrashing and complaining about his lot in life. I had never been so scared and threatened by an animal, and I was a kid who grew up in barns. That bull may as well have had multi faceted eyes and a forked tail, at the time is was going to suck my innards out. Emerging unscathed from that barn was an exhilarating moment, I could live forever.

Eleanor Brennesholtz's studio.

BG: Whoa.  I know what you mean, those situations where you think, “This is it.  I’m about to die.”  Then half way through making peace with existence the danger suddenly passes.  In general, people seem surprised when I tell them such stories, like they’ve never been through such a harrowing ordeal.  But I think everyone must have such experiences, unless they like life under a rock, they just put them out of mind.  Is mortality a driving force when making your work?

EB: The most interesting and exciting part of any given day is when you realize that even though you are going about your day normally ( and without any extreme sports) you almost just died. And this is something you can think at any moment and it’s always true. Life is risky; buildings burn down, bridges fail, drunk people drive and desperate people hold up liquor stores. Humans are a strange species with all this emotion and tradition, protecting death like a priceless piece of art. Immortality is boring and consequence free. Fear of death and tradition keep humankind desperate for answers.

On the flip side of that dark and nasty coin is the beauty of the planet and how humans use the natural world to explain and essentially treat the affliction of life. The entrails are loosely associated with empty organ sacs after the organ part of the meat has been removed and now there is nothing inside. Organ sacs are dried, stretched, stuffed, eaten, painted on, chopped up and salted. Nothing goes to waste, life continues.

Eagles Fly

BG: Does “using everything” also apply to your art?  Whether that’s taking scraps from life or your own floor.  Do you find yourself sometimes more interested in incidental parts of an artwork, rather than the main subject you started with?

EB: I don’t so much “use everything” as I tend to use carefully chosen weird things. I pass up materials everyday, but hold on to some for years before I use them. I like old forgotten things, and children’s images from past generations. Many of the basic images I used in these pieces are inspired by two coloring books I bought at a tag sale. They were printed in the mid 50’s and nowadays are antiquated and dull. But the simplicity of the images as well as the subversive application of them really appealed to me.

I rarely begin with a main subject, usually it is at least two images or an image and a material together that kick starts a work.  The sculpture really is about process and seeing what can be done with a material. More often than not a fiber piece is forgotten for long periods of time before I pick it up again and either finish it or dismantle it.  These pieces are little bursts of inspiration and work that I essentially rediscover and use as complete objects. The rediscovery is always exciting, like thrift shopping in your own studio.

Seringe

BG: A sagely hermit comes from the woods and says, “I’ve placed the wisdom of ages in this cup,” then hands it to you.  There is a slimy liquid glowing green in the mossy bowl she’s given you.  What do you do?

EB: My mother always said that you should smile and thank someone when they give you a gift. She also says that you can get rid of it as soon as their back is turned.

Where is the fun in posessing the “wisdom of ages?” Life would be meaningless.

Don’t forget Borough is open today 5-8, tomorrow 10-7 and Sunday 10-5.  Come see Eleanor Brennesholtz and the rest of the show “Entropic Restructed,” because after this weekend it’s all scattering to other galleries, restaurants and living rooms.

 

INTERVIEW with Raychel Severance

Borough Gallery: Anyone who’s driven an all-nighter through that mid-Atlantic void of I-95 feels drawn to South of the Border.  But the kitsch found there rarely makes one think of art.  Most snapshots only intend to say, “look at this funny shit.”  So how does SOB become a subject of one of your photographs?  Or anything else for that matter?

Raychel Severance: To be honest, the first thing I felt when we arrived at SOB was an overwhelming sensation of “Holy shit,” and in the best way possible. We drove back and forth, up and down the stretch no less than five times before we finally had the capacity to exit the car, and when we did, it was a struggle to put my camera down long enough just to keep up with my company. The place was a gold mine, and there were times when I wasn’t getting the photos I quite wanted when my swashbuckling companion had to remind me, “it’s OK, Raychel, some things are just too damn easy, ya know?” And she had it spot on; there were some things at South of the Border, be they abandoned bumper car rides or two-story gorillas with chipping paint, that were so out of this world that doing it justice with a photograph seemed impossible.

I think what draws artists and adventurers to places like SOB, or places riddled with abandonment and loss, is our ability to recognize artistic gain in what the rest of the population overlooks as uninteresting because it is deceased. While we see the abandoned bumper car ride as a golden photographic opportunity, others see it as nothing more than bumper cars that don’t bump into each other anymore. So we grant ourselves elite access to a place that’s no longer overseen, facilitated or secured in any way, and we turn over every stone in search of that thing that those not looking would never find. We see it as a brilliant representation of so much more than a place nobody goes to anymore. We ask ourselves Why, instead, and then we portray it.

Raychel Severance "Tokens Sold Here" Digital fine art print, 24"x36"

BG: Photographing both what goes literally unseen and in ways people rarely see is a helluva combo, but what about when you photograph something familiar?  As a photographer, what qualities do you catch at first glance in the everyday that others might miss or ignore?

RS: I’m lucky in this regard, because I’m normally a candid portrait photographer; I shoot a lot of bands and performance, but not your average rock band or smiling face. The people I’m surrounded by each day have an exuberance that goes unrivaled by that of most average everyday life. It’s easy to take a good picture when your subject is a beautiful person doing something eccentric and exciting. So a familiar picture for me is still usually out of the realm of the ordinary to most people who I am usually trying to show them to. I am fascinated with gypsy culture and life and strive to become a bigger part of it, not because I want to live a life without work or responsibilities and eat donuts out of dumpsters, but because I’m determined to uncover a world of incredible characters and lifestyles that often go entirely overlooked. It’s become a good outlet for me because not only do the personalities themselves appeal to me, but the photos I get usually have people asking themselves “what the hell is going on here?” which I like, because to those pictured, it’s really just another day in the life. I’ve got more photos of accordion players than I know what to do with, yet people outside the social circle are still drawn to each one because it’s something they’re not used to.

I try to keep my eye out for not only the things I know most people don’t get to experience, but especially the things that are new to me. I’m still young and there’s still so much I haven’t seen, so the curiosity I have is ferocious and I couldn’t ignore it even if I wanted to; I see these travelers and gypsies and hobos and swashbucklers all around me and they’ve all got different things about them that separate them from the rest, and that’s what I usually try to capture when I’m shooting them doing their thing. I don’t like to pose people and usually like to catch them in their natural element, so with candid photography it’s almost as if everything is new. When I see someone busking for some beer money by stomping on a suitcase drum, juggling hackey sacks and playing the banjo, obviously there is an appeal. I feel like not everyone is as lucky as I am to have become a part of this kind of culture, so it’s like a duty of mine to show them how incredible it really is. I’m always looking out for joy and the circus in everything, so that’s what usually catches my glance and gets my camera out.

BG: The subjects in the show are all inanimate, but how do you go about capturing candid shots of people and culture in motion?  Is it rapid fire or a careful waiting?  Any pointers about how to hone a photographer’s eye?

RS: I shoot and shoot and shoot. And then I shoot. And shoot and shoot and shoot. When I do band photography, for example, of fast-paced energy and motion, I’ll take anywhere from 100-300 pictures of one show, 80% of which I usually delete. I used to get down on myself over this until I realized that if I get anywhere from 5-10 pictures that I love from a band’s show, then it’s an absolute success. With things not music-related, I just shoot everything going on around me; like I’m participating in all the festivities only with a camera between me and everyone else. So it’s a combination of rapid fire and waiting; I wait until there’s something going on that I know will produce a good shot if I can nail the timing and placement right, and then I just shoot away. As for honing a photographer’s eye, I’m not sure; people saw I have a way of making people look like rock stars when they’re living their everyday lives which may or may not be exciting, but I think I just like the photos I’ve taken because they capture the way I see my subjects, rather than just the way they look. I see so much beauty in the people around me that I’m not interested in trying to convince others that it’s beautiful, but rather just show them exactly what I see. I guess you can’t take a good picture if you yourself aren’t passionate about what’s there in front of you. If I’m into it, the shots just frame themselves because I’m trying to accurately show other people how I saw it through my own eyes. Sometimes you’re successful, and other times you’ve just got to resort to mental pictures. A retina camera would help with this. I’m still waiting for the introduction of this invention to the world.

Raychel Severance "Ferris Wheel" Digital Fine Art Print, 24"x36"

BG: If you could have one prehistoric and/or mythical animal for a pet what would it be?

RS: A wooly mammoth. No question. I’d ride that thing everywhere and slay everything and at night we would snuggle because he would be friendly. But only with me. Everyone else gets slain. Kinda like a really big hairy pit bull.

See more of Raychel Severance‘s photographs in our current show “Entropic Restructed” before it closes May 9th.

 

INTERVIEW with Michael Heeney

Borough Gallery: A lot of your artwork is constructed from found objects and materials, much of them desiccated and fragile.  How do you collect them all?  And is the collecting important in some personal way?  Because they do seem like you happened upon them at opportune times, a month earlier or later and they wouldn’t have the qualities they do, or even be preservable at all.

Michael Heeney: I do work with a lot of found objects and materials. The act of collecting them can take on many forms.  Sometimes I know that I want, say, an antique light bulb, so I search for the perfect one in junk shops, industrial areas, online, or wherever else I think I might find what I’m looking for.   Other times I’m not even looking for anything specific, but the thought of collecting an object and incorporating it into my art keeps my eyes open all the time and makes me look into the dark and dirty corners of my everyday life. So the act of collecting is important to me because it forces me to look into the places that have been forgotten about.  I don’t treasure the objects in and of themselves, but I do treasure their symbolism, and I love the mystery of their stories and their history that I will never understand.

Michael Heeney's studio space

BG: Is that “history that I will never understand” a subject you explicitly express through your artwork?  Do you think a person can have an intense relationship with something they cannot know?

MH: I try not to explicitly express any subject with these pieces,  I don’t want to define them too much, I want them to be a beautiful mystery mounted to the wall and I’m just relaying that mystery.   I love that I don’t know the history of these objects, where they came from, who the last person was that touched it, misplaced it, drop-kicked it, or how or why.  And yes, I do think that someone can have an intense relationship with something that they cannot know, but I wouldn’t encourage it; it will probably just lead to heartache, sleepless nights, or trespassing.

Michael Heeney "Untitled VII" shotgun shell, 100 year old barnwood with original nails, and dirt, 5"x8"

BG: I was talking with a friend the other day about ghosts; that, rather than disembodied spirits, they are aberrations in an attempt to understand unanswerable mysteries, which is actually more terrifying if you think about it.  Is making your art anything like that?  Do you ever get spooked with all these collected objects assumedly in your closet?

MH: Wow.  Great question.  I don’t know, but I love the theory about ghosts being unanswerable mysteries.  It is very human to want to solve every mystery, even if it is beyond our capacity, i.e. religion, god, the afterlife…   I like to theorize and fantasize about the answers, but I accept the mystery as  unanswerable.  This grounds me and makes me feel human and a part of the natural food chain, and I like that.   I don’t get spooked by the collected objects.  I am delighted by them.

BG: If the moon is colonized and the city there suddenly became “the it place” of the culture scene would you leave the earth to live there?

MH: Nah. Well, maybe if there was an atmosphere on the moon.   I wouldn’t want to wear a space suit every time I went outside.   If the new culture scene was on a moon of jupiter I’d be down…

Michael Heeney "Untitled III" inkjet photo transfer, joint compound, polyurethane, and found wood, 11"x12"

See Michael Heeney‘s work and the rest of the artists hanging around our current show “Entropic Restructed” before it closes May 9th.

 

INTERVIEW with Diane Gabriel

Borough Gallery: The roadside junk you photograph isn’t just trash, but symbols of what you see as systemic cultural destruction.  But your subjects are out there on rural roadways, far from cultural “hubs,” and the people who erected them likely don’t see them as destructive at all.  Why make photographs of these “landmarks”?  What compels you to share your perspective of them?

Diane Gabriel: I agree with your statement.  I do not see these images as photographs of roadside trash, but rather symbols of cultural destruction that I find problematic. Each of these photographs was taken before Shawna invited me to be part of “Entropic Revisited”. I photographed these places exactly because ” the people who erected them likely do not see them as destructive”, but I do – as you can see in the statements which accompany the images. I’m happy to elaborate on these statements if you want me to.

Interestingly, far from being”out there on rural roadways far from cultural ‘hubs'” each image was taken from a major Interstate highway, primarily Route 40 which replaced the older, kitschier Route 66. In fact “The Largest Cross In The Western Hemisphere” is noted in the reference book, “Next Exit.”  “Next Exit” does exactly what its title says it does, listing which gas stations, eateries or Malls, etc. are located at the next exit of each and every Interstate in the United States. The LCWH is one of the few references other than the afore mentioned attractions. Quite a tome in and of itself.

BG: You’re right, I hadn’t thought about how these are not roadside anomalies one only happens across, they are endorsed far and wide as a cultural “must see” for travelers.  And what we must see on our road trips seems increasingly absurd.  In a way, the “biggest holy cross in the western hemisphere” is even more absurd than attractions like “the world’s tallest thermometer” or “largest box of raisins.”  Beyond just destructive, what cultural value do the subjects in your photographs share?  What cultural morals do you see expressed along our highways?

DG:

What the photographs have in common is the wry amusement I feel which makes me want to document these places; it is feeling the despair which I perhaps keep at bay by taking these pictures.

BG: With the ubiquity of cameras, picture taking is an everyday activity.  Many cultural shifts have resulted, some for the seeming worse (like oversharing), others for the seemingly better (the public revelation of Oscar Grant’s homicide, for example).  Do you think this also has an impact on authentic experience?  How is that “highway culture” also a part of your life?

DG: There are different kinds of photographic experiences for me. Taking pictures can sometimes make me  hyper vigilant. I feel as if I am stalking, looking for just that moment when the pieces come together. I like it the feeling and it is exhausting. Photographing on the highway was sheer pleasure. Some of my favorite pictures are “drive bys”. Ha, there are drive by shootings and I do another sort of drive by shot!

I was disappointed there were not more photographs to take. I think that is the highway culture. However, it also allows me the opportunity to see my family in New Mexico, something that would be very difficult without the Interstates.

BG: What is the highest point you’ve ever been?

DG: Is this a literal or figurative highest point?

BG: Is the question too loaded?  Is that high point something you fear publicly revealing?

DG: Actually it is. Remember I am a child o’ the sixties!

See more of Diane Gabriel‘s photographs as part of “Entropic Restructed” at The Borough Gallery, now until May 1st.

 

INTERVIEW with Emily Wilson

Borough’s own Emily Wilson currently has her show up at Studio Place Art in Barre.  She’s got site specific works crawling the walls, a chandelier in the stairwell, a quilt that can’t stop gazing at you and perhaps her most novel series to date, “Odds N Ends.”  We could certainly go on about why you need to see this show, maybe while hitting up BASH this coming Saturday, but we won’t.  Emily was also interviewed in the latest Art New England and we decided to ask her some questions ourselves, her as in us, like she and we… oh you get the idea.

"Patience." Braids, paper and yarn. 2010

Borough Gallery: You say the new works in Springing Through Space are unabashedly intended for visual pleasure and also to create awareness of space they hang in.  So what is the pleasure of space?  How is space exciting in a way material objects are not?

Emily Wilson: Looking at spaces create opportunity. I have done so many projects over the course of my short lifetime. I have tried so many new materials, worked and reworked old projects, worked academically, worked independently and can sustainably operate a studio space, have worked within a variety of art institutions- under artists and personal career endeavors.I feel trapped not incorporating all that I have learned from each endeavor that I have had artistically and creatively. Looking at spaces give me a chance to incorporate the many areas that I find of interest. When I encounter a new space or opportunity to show or create within a space- I take it on as a privilege and in a sense want to be able to expose all that I discovered of interest within the space and in turn visually expose all that I can do with it  to viewers. With each endeavor that I have with a new space, I learn something  that in turn inspires, limits or expands ideas I had originally planned for. Which stimulates new interests and  need of obtaining some more the necessary skills in order to create the works I want to. Things that are essential to me as an developing artist.

"Mustard" from Odds N Ends series. Mixed media on glass. 2010

BG:For this show, where have you pushed yourself?  What is it about this space, or what you’ve done with your new work that both integrates what you know and pushes you someplace new?

EW:This show has been a tremendous test of my ability to plan, organize, manipulate and devise ideas. The work incorporates and expands on all these areas and the physical installation of the show challenged me in new ways. Not only was my focus on building new works in the studio, I had to plan for transportation and manage time well, once arriving on site. Each piece became a series in itself, explicitly because of the process and agenda of getting it to Studio Place Arts. I was forced to figure out what was the best order of operations as far as construction, transportation and installation goes. I used my experience from hanging previous shows for Borough and what I have witnessed as an artist assistant during Fleming exhibitions, in order to prepare for my first solo-show. Watching other artists methods of installation allowed me to problem solve the issues and constraints of my pieces. The fact that this is a solo show, really pushed me to think about what exactly I wanted to express to viewers and made me realize I have an opportunity as an artist to showcase what it is that I do. For me, having this show to work on brought my methods to a whole new level and allowed me to look at myself as a developing artist and realize all that I hope to learn in order to show at the level I am interested in.

BG: How does seeing other artists hang their work, wether that art is or is not as concerned with the gallery space as your work, affect your own?  What are some “positive” realizations and some “negative” realizations about your own work from looking at others?  Perhaps an example?

EW: From my experience and from watching other artists I have learned being an installation artist, perhaps being any type artist- that your skills are developed from a variety of areas and everything that you do learn, from one thing to another is multifaceted and re- purposed for your specific creative needs. Carpentry skills, hardware, surfaces and finishes, safety, ladders; are all new things to me in the last years. I am lucky I have gained some experience with various building methods and a tremendous capacity to problem solve from my parents and UVM, but I am yet to feel truly confident in the wood shop. There are things I want to build and install, that I know I can’t do because I don’t have the skills yet . I am looking to refine my focus on craftsmanship and quality pieces. Things that can exist beyond a one time installation. For example, “Move Past 2, to 3.” better known as the wooden box- installation, is the first site specific piece I designed for the studio and when I realized my carpentry skills lacked. The piece consists of 9 wooden boxes suspended by hook and eye hardware with certain embellishments lineally placed within the edges. I would not have been able to build this piece solo. I had designed the project explicitly on paper and shared it with a friend of mine who works for Wanamaker Restoratoration, who has access to a great salesroom and wood shop on Pine Street, conveniently around the corner from the studio. We created a sort of assembly line to complete the project, and I learned the ropes as far as hook and eye hardware and drills go. Now, I own a drill. Which enables me to do things like I have done at Studio Place Arts. I have also taken an intro class to PhotShop, which has enabled me to take spaces home and try examples of my work on the walls so I don’t get to a space with a quilt that’s three inches longer than the wall or realize that hanging 10 bike rims in 8 foot space might be a little crowded. Because of these developments, I have seen the quality of my work rise. However, it makes me realize how far I have come as a developing artist. In addition to the realization of how much more I am going to make, because I have time to learn the necessary skills and explore the things that interest me, I just have to pace myself.

Untitled. BLUES. SPA site specific Installation. Fibers and nails. 2010

BG: Have you ever considered taking your art outside a gallery, into a public or out-of-the-way space?  Is there some space you see your work going?

EW: I have done two pieces in public in out of the way spaces. One of which, I think includes “Looking Inside Out”, outside our gallery door and the other was, in my then backyard on Weston Street in 2007. I did a site specific piece that was best viewed from an aerial perspective, and designed to be seen explicitly from my bedroom, which was at the very top and in the eave of the three story Victorian style-duplex. I have been thinking about this installation recently and the things that explicitly worked about and within this site. I think looking at non-traditional, public, or independent sites has a lot of possibility for my work and might enabled me to extend my palette in a new and unique direction. I like the idea of incorporating art in nature. Especially organic images created from clearly non-organic materials or essentially purposeless items. My parents were landscape designers and had the capacity to transform outdoor spaces, just by highlighting a few key elements. Whether it was aesthetic purposes, structural, conservation or environmental, landscape design takes on some of the same roles as installation design. I would like to find a blending of these areas and possibly capitalize on the essence of surprise and freedom viewers have when you liberate art to the other side of the gallery walls.

Drawing on Inspiration. BLUE. mixed media on paper. 2010

BG: Have you ever been in a social situation and thought, “I’m bored.  I’d rather be working on my art,” and then mentally disengaged with your physical self and the engagement you were trapped in?  Have you ever gotten caught in the act?

EW: That very situation happens everyday. Especially in the afternoons after I have been working all morning. When my flow is abundant and I have been able to engage in one project or one aspect of a project for hours, my mind will stay actively part of it for hours. This also happens most frequently when I am someplace where I feel trapped or stuck. I daydream of my new projects or ways to enhance the projects I am working on now. I haven’t got caught per say, but people definitely know I am thinking about my own things and have mentioned so. Ive never been so fixated that I can’t do the task at hand, but it is possible that’s all that I have been thinking about while I have been there. Im good at multi -tasking, so sometimes I feel like I am always tyring to find something useful for my projects from my “life” situations. I kinda use life skills and the things that work within the sturcture of day to day life to structure my life for art.

Emily’s show “Springing Through Space” will be hanging at Studio Place Arts, 201 North Main Street, Barre VT, until April 17th.

 

An interview with Jude Bond

"Niagara Falls" 7x11 hand painted backdrop

Borough Gallery and Studio: You often use images of “TV Women” from the mid-twentieth century.  What do you think “TV Women” today are like?  Are they prodding the same desires/anxieties as in the 60s, or do they present whole new problems for women and their identity?

Jude Bond: I grew up in the early days of television. My sister and I watched many shows about the supposed happy family life. There was Leave it To Beaver, Father Knows Best, The Donna Reid Show, and many more. The women in all these shows were moms and they were all “stay-at-home moms”. There was very little discussion about a career other than being a homemaker.

These women were running the household and not a corporation but were bright savvy women. They did all the cooking and the cleaning yet still had a certain glamorous appearance. Their houses were shiny, and so were they. These were “domestic goddesses”.

The women I recall as “Sirens” or “Sex Kittens” were single and appeared more often in film than in television. They were women like Marilyn Monroe and Ann Margaret. They were not usually wives and mothers. They were the girlfriends, or the object of some man’s desires.

In fact the most significant media role model I had as a girl was in literature not television or film; the incomparable Nancy Drew. This series for young girls had a powerful influence on me. Nancy gave me courage and hope through all of her adventures and escapades. She was afraid of nothing, and she was also smart and kind. She used her intellect and her sleuthing skills to help people, which appealed to me. When I was reading these books in the early 60’s there were few female heroines in literature for girls to emulate, and I was utterly and completely hooked.

A few years back I did a series about Nancy Drew. I re-read a couple of the books while working on the series and they are cheesy and dated, and yet so, so good. In the Secret of The Old Clock Nancy gets locked in a closet and manages to escape by using the closet pole as a lever to jimmy the door off its hinges, saves a child from drowning, rescues an old woman who had a bad fall, changes a flat tire, fixes a broken motorboat engine, and of course, also solves the secret in the old clock and brings a much deserved fortune to family and friends of a recently deceased gentlemen whose last will and testament could not be found. Whew! Wow! And all this while also dressing smartly and being warm and friendly to all she comes in contact with.

But back to television and your question…

What is most interesting to me about television shows from this time period is something no-one ever seems to talk about. This is the curious fact that there were several shows in which the mother had died. There was My Three Sons, Sky King, Bachelor Father, Bonanza, just to name a few. In these shows it was as if the absent mother enabled the surviving father and children, whether young or old, to take on roles they would not have been allowed to have otherwise. The men got to be the nurturers as in My Three Sons, or got to go on dates, as in Bachelor Father, or the female child got to have more adventures than perhaps an overprotective mom would have allowed, as in Sky King. This was also the case in the Nancy Drew mystery series. Nancy’s mother had passed away and her father was less protective than perhaps a tv or novel mom of that time would have been, allowing her to have a life filled with dangerous adventures.

TV women of today exemplify a much broader range of options than those of yesteryear. Today’s TV women are doctors, lawyers, cops, judges, car dealers, designers and moms and housewives. Yet, some of the same underlying stereotypes still apply and some of the same struggles exist. What I find most interesting about contemporary television is that one of the most popular shows is Mad Men, which is set in the 50’s and 60’s. Several of the key female characters intrigue us precisely because they do not fit the mold. They do not behave as we might expect from a show set in that time period. They are not kind and loving mothers, or good Catholic girls, or long suffering secretaries or wives. They are questioning their roles and daring to step outside the parameters of tradition.

BGS: Your art uses traditional domestic skills, stitching, quilting, etc… yet you say you’re not a “domestic goddess” yourself.  What was it like learning these skills and applying them to art that asks the viewer to question their tradition?

JB: You are correct. I am not a Domestic Goddess. I come from a long line of Domestic Goddesses, but I did not inherit the gene. I grew up in a time when moms stayed home and cooked and cleaned and sewed and had dinner on the table each night with meat, potatoes, vegetables and a home-made dessert. My mom sewed matching dresses for my sister and me, knitted sweaters, stitched quilts, hooked rugs and embroidered pillow cases.

As a young girl I was taught to embroider, sew, and crochet.  I spent many pleasant hours in solitude practicing these skills. I loved the techniques, but as I came of age I avoided them as if they would create snares that would trap me in the domestic life.

As an adult I returned to “women’s work” and the medium I love, to create works about home and domesticity, and to address issues of women’s roles in contemporary society.  Using this medium to comment on the very thing that it has come to represent appeals to my sense of humor and irony.  It also gives a new view to the long history of “women’s work” as fine art.

"Hand in GLove #2" textile

BGS: Snares and traps are also present in the creative process: creative blocks; anxieties and fears; addiction to research and information; getting caught in imitation of another’s work.  Are there any traps your art has been caught in and now learned to avoid?  Are there parts to your process where you must tiptoe to avoid being ensnared, and others where you can run without fear?

JB: This is an interesting question and very relevant to me. Over the years I have dabbled in many different mediums. What I have found is that when I do more traditional work, say painting or drawing, there is a constant voice in my head that says things such as “that is not the way it is done”, or “that is not good enough”, “you are not a painter” etc.

I am very drawn to traditional landscapes and still lifes.  If you saw the art work that adorns the walls in my home you might be surprised, as it consists almost exclusively of paintings that were purchased for a few bucks each at yard sales. These paintings touch me with their earnestness and encourage me to try again someday when perhaps the voices have abated.

In contrast, when I work intuitively with a vast array of elements gathered from near and far, I never hear these discouraging voices. Quite the opposite, I get energy and encouragement from the elements I piece together; from the doilies, undies, gloves and textiles. I feel completely free to make the work the way I wish to, and in the way that my muses lead me. The only things that hold me back are technical issues, and then I just set out to learn the new skills necessary to complete the work the way I envision it. Often these technical solutions come to me in dreams and I awake in the morning with a pleasant little “aha”.

I am happy to say that I have never had a creative block since I began to make art seriously. I feel very blessed in this regard.  I awake every day bubbling with ideas and am blocked only by time constraints placed on me by real world demands, such as work, socializing with other humans, and ordinary daily tasks.

"Tomatoes" textile and metal sculpture

BGS: Do you have an idilic home/lifestyle that lives in your head?  Throwing away all of reality’s restraints, what would your typical idilic day consist of?

JB: My ideal scenario is as follows: I am independently wealthy. My home is in the countryside. It is a beautiful old rambling farmhouse. There are rolling fields for long walks and a brook or pond for dipping on hot summer days. My studio resides in a refurbished barn with high ceilings and lovely views. There is plenty of organized storage for my collections of art making materials.  I have the time and money to go on seasonal forays to hunt and gather at rummage sales, yard sales and thrift shops for unique art making finds. I have a once a year give-away to move wonderful materials back out into the world for others to utilize and enjoy. There is a beautiful space in my studio to teach workshops and classes for adults.

Most mornings I awake early and carry my coffee to the studio to begin my day. Most days are spent here. I do not have to earn a living through my teaching or my art or craft work, but choose to volunteer in the Early Arts program I now coordinate. Once or twice a week I go into town to teach art to preschoolers in their classrooms. This keeps me in touch with the joy, spontaneity, and seriousness of art making. The children inspire me and keep my work fresh and make me feel like I am giving back to the community in some small way.

I am still a member of 215 College Gallery, so I have the support, encouragement and opportunities that provides. I also show at other galleries across the country from time to time and have the flexibility in my schedule to allow for these travels and opportunities. Life is good!

For more information on Jude Bond go here. To see more of her work visit 215 College Gallery or check to see where she’s exhibiting next .

 

Closing Reception for “The Place You Hang Your Hat” Tonight From 5-9!!!

Join us at Borough tonight from 5-9 to celebrate the closing reception of “The Place You Hang Your Hat“! We’ve thoroughly enjoyed being surrounded by the beautiful artwork of our 9 exhibiting artists, so we’re throwing a little goodbye bash to see them off. We hope you’re enjoyed getting to know them and their art a little better thanks to the stellar interviews that our resident writer Steve has been conducting, and we will have the last few up next week!

Rachel Moore "Abstract Wetscape 6" Oil on canvas

Jude Bond "Domestic Godess/Sex Kitten" Yo Yo Quilt, Textile Art

So join us tonight while you’re out for Burlington’s First Friday Art Walk for your last chance to see our “home” inspired exhibition! We will have live music by New York old thyme blues/bluegrass musician Mathias Kamin and our neighbors Vintage Inspired are throwing a holiday party to show off their curious goods which have just arrived, and they also have some gorgeous goods on display from local crafters. This will be Borough’s last group exhibition until February, so we hope to see you here tonight!

Mathias Kamin

 

An interview with Rachel Moore

Painting "Cicada Tree"

Borough Gallery and Studio: You grew up in a family of committed artists.  Now that you’re an artist how are they involved with your work?

Rachel Moore: Some of my earliest memories are of family members, particularly my grandfather, teaching me to make art and to see the world as an artist. I remember learning how to properly hold a pencil and write my name, and then to draw shaded shapes like spheres and cubes on the same page. Equally important was learning to really see things. He would show me a mirror, point out the range of wild colors he saw in my face and then show me how to mix them. He has always offered astonishing lessons, bringing me back to the core of how and why people make art. Then he’ll finish up with something like, ‘But that’s just how I do it, you do whatever the hell you want’. And that is what I do.

Now that I am exhibiting my work and building an artistic career, relatives offer an example to follow and my greatest source of support and encouragement. I refer to their work as I make my own and depend on them for an honest critique. A Sonstein family exhibition was held this past summer in North Wales, Pennsylvania. Eight family members participated with ages ranging from 12 to 86. Some works were dated 60 years ago and some were finished just before hanging the show. Seeing the continuum in one room was fascinating. I am clearly influenced by everyone.

BGS: Do you see an evolutionary path in your own work since you’ve finished formal studying?  Any ideas about where your work has been, where it’s going?

RM: I am very much affected by the place I am living and working. My work has changed substantially as I have changed homes and environments. I had done a good deal of traveling before my college years and I think that was quite inspirational, but my later experiences of traveling alone and moving from place to place are what stand out as enormous landmarks in my artistic development as an adult. This began in spurts during college and picked up speed when I graduated.
Looking back, it seems that college was a somewhat frustrating time during which I had to control the stimulation and excitement I was gathering. I looked forward to a time when I would learn more naturally, be autonomous and let loose my creations. After completing college, I thrust myself into a series of situations that were both extremely challenging and rewarding. I attribute my growth to the creative people I met along the way and the repeated opportunities to reinvent myself.
My earlier works from college and previous years seem to have been dedicated to exploration of materials. I was fascinated by what paint and other materials would do on a surface, even with little or no manipulation. I worked for several years without a paintbrush, allowing a composition to appear naturally through pouring or spreading and watching it dry. I would then reinforce or eliminate elements of the composition to complete the piece, but I felt little intervention was necessary. I still enjoy making compositions of pure abstraction and my current painting process begins with a similar technique of loose painting. However, I have now come in to a more controlled style. I am working to find a balance between allowing the paint to move naturally and manipulating it to convey my intentions. Projecting into the future, I see myself honing in on the most effective way to achieve this balance and creating a more cohesive collection of works.

Working on "Pear Tree"

BGS: What work of art took you the longest amount of time to make, what took the shortest?  Please tell us what each experience was like.

RM: I think it is important to consider the whole lifetime of experiences and education that lead up to the making of a work. There is often a very long period of incubation during which a painting or sculpture develops conceptually. To answer the question more directly, I believe the piece that took longest to make is the knit sculpture titled “Organic Periscope”. I completed this over 10 8-hour sessions. I was hooked on this project because I was so curious about how it would turn out. The shape kept changing before me and eventually became its completed self. Like most of my works, I better communicated my intentions by disobeying the original sketch. Interesting avenues kept presenting themselves and I had to take them. I believe the painting titled “Abstract Composition 1”  took the least amount of time to create. I achieved these effects by applying painted objects to the canvas, pouring ink and oil on the surface and then tilting it to put the materials in motion. This was made along with a series of other small canvases that were studies for satisfying compositions. I later used these as references for large scale works. This composition relates directly to Abstract Wetscape 2.

"Abstract Wetscape 2"

BGS: An evangelist knocks on your door, professing the opposite of everything you know to be true about existence and the universe.  What do you do?

RM: If an evangelist were to inform me that my interpretation of this universe is wrong, I would take my father’s advice and be aware of everything, discard what does not work for me and take what does.

For more information on Rachel Moore go here. See her work in person at Borough until Friday, December 4th.

 

An interview with Kathryn Combs

Kathryn Combs "Quiet" 12" x 24" Digital Fine Art Print

Borough Gallery and Studio: Your photographs depict objects of comfort (a sink, an oven door, a bed), yet they’re rendered desolate, their functions mute.  Where did the inspiration to render them this way come from?

Kathryn Combs: In all honesty I don’t “choose” what to photograph, it’s more of a  happy accident I stumble upon.  When I say “choose” I mean that I’m not constructing these up in a studio, they are objects that are around me that I happen to find interesting enough to photograph.  I feel that the subconcious reasoning for the objects being rendered almost useless has the most to do with how my interactions changed with people over time.  These images ultimately are about me dealing with the emotional scarring I had left from when I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, and the objects one could view as a metaphor for the people.  People who used to be sources of comfort changed once I was diagnosed and told them, my relationships with them either changed or ended entirely.  So, much like the sink or Christmas lights collecting dust, so did manyof my relationships with friends and family.

Kathryn Combs "Conflict" 12" x 24" Digital Fine Art Print

The reappearing image of the bed has the most to do with the nature of the underlying reasoning for the photographs – not only was it somewhere I spent a lot of time post-surgery, but it was also the place I contracted the disease which led to the cancer in the first place.  For me it was about a push/pull relationship: a space of comfort and a space where I also dealt with conflict and hid from what was happening.

BGS: Being diagnosed with cancer, or any series of trauma, often changes
the work of an artist.  Do you find your work has changed radically?

KC: I think that’s a tricky question.  Because it wasn’t like the type I dealt with was “life threatening” per say, it just left more emotional damage and future physical risks than anything.  I would say my work did change a lot though, it because much more introspective and about what I could learn about myself from making the work rather than making ac commentary on something outside myself.  I went from looking at others to looking at myself.  In terms of the actual product, going through all of that was good in a weird way.  It became a catalyst and gave my work focus.  The images themselves began to have a style that grouped them together.

BGS: That is a big change for an artist to go from external subjects to internal ones.  Did you also find yourself interested in different artists?  Did you find some guide that helped you achieve a new direction with your photography?

KC: I don’t know if my favorite artists or at least the ones I found to be the most inspiring changed at all.  I’ve always been a Rauschenberg, Warhol, Goldin kind of gal.   I’ve always been interested in artists who deal with a variety of media and subject matter.  However, a professor at RIT did have a huge influence on my work during the past year and a half.  He helped me discover what it was I was trying to say with my photography, and really helped me to narrow the focus of my work.  A lot of people have actually compared my work to his, saying they’re similar in many ways, which I find extremely flattering.

Kathryn Combs "Invitation" 10" x 20" Digital Fine Art Print

Also, I got really involved in psychology about three years ago, and I think that definitely had an influence on the work I was making.

BGS: The desire to own a home seems caught with the fear that home ownership can end up a financial/social trap.  Certainly this desire and fear conundrum is exacerbated by the housing bubble-bust, but what have you learned through your relationship to “home,” or of any desire mingled with fear of that desire?

KC: My relationship with the concept of home has gone through a lot of changes throughout the past few years.  In college I never felt like I had a home, I was always in between places and never truly settled.  Now that I’ve moved to Burlington and feel a little more settled, hopefully my art will reflect that.  My hope is that with a new sense of comfort will be reflected in my work and allow me to explore a lot more with my photography and try out new things.

However, I have always had a fear of being “too” settled.  I think that while having a home is something I’ve wanted since I was a little girl, the artist in me screams at that notion of settling down.  It’s a lot of push/pull that I think all artists deal with at heart.

For more information on Kathryn Combs go here. See her work in person at Borough until Friday, December 4th.

 

An Interview With Emily Wilson

Emily’s work will be on display at Borough Gallery & Studio as part of the exhibition “The Place You Hang Your Hat” until Friday, December 4th.

Emily Wilson "Looking Inside Out" 8' x 12', ribbon, yarn and nails, site specific installation Borough Gallery & Studio Entrance

Borough Gallery & Studio: Your instillations seem to burst, like they’re in the process of organic growth, yet they also have a careful, mathematical structure to them. What’s it like creating that effect?  Is it mostly play, or agony to get it right?

Emily Wilson: This piece exemplifies the true process of site specific installation and the overall transformation of space, materials and limitations. I worked mostly from inspiration of the physical space. Responding to the layers of mortar and brick as well as the skylight, overall wall height and the room layout. I essentially was bursting during the actual installation. It was very physical. Full of movement, rhythm, gesture. It represents the energy, enthusiasm and ethic I have for my work. I wanted to create something that allowed others to step into a world that is completely created by me. The layering of colors, values of buttons and repetition are all intentional and especially constructed for this piece, in this space, for this show. At the end and nearer to its full completion I began to edit and add various components, which was challenging and the only part that became grueling. I was looking for a specific balance, simplicity and overall startlingly affect, which initially was hard to achieve. But as I became more familiar with the piece, with in the space I was able to finally distinguish what needed to be done in order to finish.

Emily Wilson detail of "Looking Inside Out" 8' x 12', ribbon, yarn and nails, site specific installation Borough Gallery & Studio Entrance

BGS: If your installations start with the space, have you ever walked into space where you’ve been asked to create and felt intimidated or stumped?  Have you ever had a space where you and it just did not get along?

EW: Only once that I really, really remember. Actually, it was one of the more important learning experiences in my artistic career. There was a project  I was committed to in a corridor space. It was two walls outside of a gallery space and was a travel way for students to and from the stairs. There were two staircase that led up to this area, and two stairways that went to the level above. The walls were 10 feet high by 22 feet long, on both sides of a set of double doors that were in the middle, that led to the gallery. It wasn’t a challenging space, per say. It was relatively familiar. However, I thought I had developed this great plan, and I had, on paper. I had designed a piece that I thought was powerful, uniform, responded to the movement of the space, reached for simplicity, but had an overall impact. When I got there, I unpacked and took out my drawings and plans. And I had planned it so carefully I did exactly what I planned on paper… measured down to nails. 8 or 10 hours later, I stepped back. Done. Excited, because it looked exactly like my drawing, exactly what I wanted this planned, conceived project phenomenon to be. I left satisfied. The next day, as I approached the stairs as any other student would that day, I looked at the piece. And was so unimpressed. So lifeless, so perfect, so idealized. It didn’t respond to the space or communicate with it. Rather, it sat, placed on the wall, like a drawing. Planned, mediated, framed, matted, and hung. That night I took it down. I Used the materials to build something within the limitations of space as well as trying to mimic an excitement and energy, Williams, the Art Building had. The next day when I approached the same stairs as I had the day before, I was psyched because it worked, beyond the capacity it was intended to… I was interested in my own work on a whole new level and realized how essential the total engagement with the space is, and more so realized that the space is just as much a material as paint or paper is… it has color, depth, texture, mass amount… you respond to watercolor one way, you respond to brick in another.

BGS: Your windows and paintings still have the same energy as your installations, yet they can’t start with a space. Where do you start with those pieces?

EW: They still start with space. In a sense I build my works from the medium I have, the limitations of the space I can work within, and other constraints. For example, I usually approach a new project with a very simple idea or inspiration. A quick thought about something I’m curious about or find appealing, and then I turn to what I have. Whether it be an 8′ by 10′ canvas, a postcard -sized piece of watercolor paper or a new storm window, I choose something to spark  my interest further. Then I turn to unique materials and try to catch the specific energy, inspiration, and innovation in a two -dimensional or three -dimensional form, specifically in a design -oriented manner. Drawing is the best way for me to capture the exact product that I hope for or urge for in painting, installation and sculpture. I learn from my drawings the path to building other things. Even if they are not exact replicas of each other, they stem from each other and in turn progress each other.

Emily Wilson detail of "Looking Inside Out" 8' x 12', ribbon, yarn and nails, site specific installation Borough Gallery & Studio Entrance

BGS: Is there any non artistic, or non creative activity that you do that in turn inspires or aids your art?

EW: I am not sure anything I do is non artistic or creative. Ive realized that I approach most of what I do as a project, maybe even an installation project. Most of my daily tasks have the goal of being aesthetically pleasing and completed timely- in order to create a living environment I can flourish in. From folding clothes, to putting away the dishes to making my bed; each activity becomes a project in itself. I also have a lot of collections. I collect scarves, bags, funky jewlery, tea cups, small dishes… Each one of those have been inspirational in one way or another. I am also active. I like to run and hike… which might enhance the overall physicality of my pieces.

BGS: When you were five what did you think your life at twenty-five would be like?

EW: I think I pictured myself as a grown up. Thinking it was much like playing house and setting up my dollhouse. I had mature hobbies at a young age, which enabled me to develop an extreme taste in home decoration and design. I remember thinking of grown up outfits and shoes… I never really thought of exactly what I would be doing for a job etc. Maybe thats why I am  struggling now! But, the real answer is I think I always pictured myself being a grown up version of what I was then. Doing the same things I did then, but better because I could have my own house to set up in and car to drive. Ive been on an artistic journey since I was born. Going through phases of interest, talent, motivation and development.

For more information on Emily Wilson go here. See her work in person at Borough until Friday, December 4th.