Pi

ART ON 45 has turned five, and the auction event was supposed to be on March 14th. Yes, that's right, on Pi Day.

I loved the idea of having the anniversary event on Pi Day. It seemed so perfect to celebrate a project that is all about the circular dimension of a song in both a mathematical and in an artful way. I had various things planned to make the event memorable. And then it didn't happen after all because of the coronavirus situation.

I postponed the event just two days before its scheduled date. It was the right thing to do, but disappointing nonetheless. Each auction event is the culmination of one year's work (and delight) for me, and right after it's over I am already planning for the next round.

A couple of weeks before the original date I had hung up the 42 pieces of the 2020 edition.

I had also installed the exhibit of reproductions showing the 150 art pieces which were created during the first four years of the project. I wanted to showcase, once again, these many amazing works that are such a joy to look at and be inspired by. I wanted people to see the many innovative and diverse ways of how these wonderful artists have approached the vinyl to make it into something new and unexpected. At the same time I wanted to honor the artists who have supported ART ON 45 so generously.


Hanging up all these prints in neat rows took me all day and most of the night plus the help of a close friend and fellow artist. It was an impressive wall of art indeed.

I was wonderful to have all that nice wall space of this year's event venue, a beautiful downtown store named Fine Line Supply, which is all about fine art, from selling supplies to reproducing and displaying original art. I love that store and all the friendly and knowledgeable people working there. Moreover, the kind-hearted owner of this small business has done so much for the growing art scene in our town and for our community in general - including ART ON 45.

A number of people went to see the ART ON 45 show before the shut-down came.

Back then, I expected a few weeks of sheltering in place and then slowly getting back to life. Well, obviously it didn't happen like that at all, unfortunately.

Things continue to be on hold or they are falling apart.

Meanwhile it has become clear that in-person events like the ART ON 45 auction are not going to be possible in the foreseeable future.

Tomorrow is the first day of August. The ART ON 45 exhibit has been up since March - but for the longest time behind locked doors. "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" George Berkeley once asked. Good question. Time to rethink this whole affair.

Meanwhile, the retrospective part of the ART ON 45 show has come down. And the auction event is going to be held in a virtual space this year, August 12-15. It's okay, really.

Now that it is round the corner, I am getting quite excited about the online event. I am trusting that the outcome of the auction itself will be just as successful as in the previous years, and I want to believe that the community feel will come in spirit, infinitely and easy as Pi.


2020 ART ON 45
Please visit the facebook event page for details and link to the auction site.

How We Connect

Another good thing in my life has been the virtual residency that I was invited to by the local arts council NCLAC and the regional non-profit Ross Lynn Foundation. It was the very first residency for me, and I felt honored and excited about it - but also instantly overwhelmed when I received the invite. More pressure, I thought, more schedules, more stress.

But then it turned out that this residency was exactly what I needed. 19 artists mostly from the area but also from other states came together for eight weeks of zoom meetings in May and June. We shared our works, our processes, our thoughts, our blockages and inspirations. It was good and helpful and enriching.

For the residency, I decided not to make a 2-D collage. I put my "Earth" series on hold for a while too. Instead, I started working on an interactive 3-D object about human connections.

I love making 3-D projects in general but other than as school projects I don't really do them a lot. The last sculpture I made is "Undo" (2016) which is about my relationship to my biological father.

When I think about it, I only work in 3-D when I go through deep painful emotions. When I am finding myself in a deep valley I have the strong urge to work on something that I can not only touch and hold but physically embrace.

In addition to the 3-D aspect, I felt that my residency project should respond to my need to have a work process with lots of repetition. I often use repetitive elements in my work. They seem to make a message louder and shriller. And, according to the common (German) saying, repetition produces truth. I want the project to give me time to reflect. And I hope I will find myself in it.


I had the vague vision of this project when I picked up this large wooden salad bowl from a thrift store years ago. It's a beautiful bowl despite and because of its many imperfections: It has a large crack that obviously someone tried to fix with glue (didn't work), the bottom is uneven, and there are many tiny cracks, chips, scratches, and stains at the rim and on the inside.
 To me, this bowl was an image of a society, and I immediately felt that I wanted to fill it with people.

The bowl has been sitting untouched in my studio ever since I bought it. I was glad to finally use it now. With "How We Connect" I am indeed making a reference to the metaphoric "salad bowls" versus "melting pots" that have been used to describe diverse societies. Obviously there can't be such thing as a melting pot when social and systemic dynamics of a society don't allow or encourage any blending of groups. The image of a salad bowl society seems to fit much better, where all the ingredients are in the same container but stay alongside each other. Some are on top, some in the middle, some at the bottom. Some are at the margin, some are hidden, some are exposed. Some are so small that they will always fall through, no matter where they are. Not all are touching each other, and even if they do, those connections are scant, unstable, temporary. 


However, my project is not about making a specific model of a diverse society. It's about how people connect in general, the groups they form, and about the dynamics of these groups within a changing society. An interactive sculpture about how we are functioning (or not) as a society.

I am making the groups of people using wooden balls which I am covering with names cut from many different paper sources to have a wide variety of old and new names from as many cultures as possible. I have 350 spheres in different sizes, 1/4" to 5", to go into the bowl.

I want to make the bowl very full so that it is difficult to stir in it. Some balls will fall out when you do, while the ones left in the bowl will be getting closer to each other. As I said, the bowl has a wobbly bottom and a crack on the side. Altogether it's a fragile construction.

Work In Progress.

Windows Should Be Able to Dance

Yes, indeed, they should!

Friedensreich Hundertwasser said that. He is one of my very favorite artists. His work is not only beautiful, inspiring, timeless and timely but it contains every little piece of his soul and his longing for a wholesome peaceful world. His works make me feel the things he was feeling, the pain about people losing touch with nature and with themselves. His paintings are vibrant and playful. Though he got most recognition for his not-straightlined architecture, and for the boring buildings that he transformed into fairytalish treasures.

Because of all that, I have done a lot of Hundertwasser inspired projects with students of all ages, and it is always wonderful to see how well everyone responds to his art.

Anyways. Summertime usually is the time when I teach art camps at my studio. I love working with children and I love seeing their excitement and joy while they are working on a challenging yet captivating project. I am not teaching in-person this summer and who knows what next summer will be like. And the school year. I don't trust that I will be teaching face-to-face any time soon.

So I have been thinking about guided projects that children (and adults!) can do on their own. Projects which combine many different techniques and materials to make the project a fun experience. At the same time I want to create projects that makes the maker contemplate during the process. This is a difficult time for everyone. Diversion is good but reflection is necessary.

This is the first project that I am offering: a Hundertwasser Birdhouse. All ingredients that are needed to make one are included in the kit, except everyday tools like scissors, and craft paints and brushes. I have prepared detailed instructions with lots of photos and examples. However, there is plenty of room for individual expression. Contact me, if you would like to purchase a kit or two.
More projects to come.

Appetizers

Number 14 of my "Earth" series.

"Appetizers"
Mixed media: clippings from vintage cookbooks and storybooks, yellowed edges of old book pages, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book, 8" x 11"


I finished this one a while ago and meant to blog about it but I have been procrastinating. Life here in this country is weird and difficult and depressing these days, but in between are good moments, and I am trying to find them and to hold on to them as long as I can.

Good moments I find with my children and my husband, and with my true friends when we talk on the phone or see each other from far. I am missing my family in Germany, I haven't seen them since last fall, and it's painful to know that I will not be able to hug them for a long time.

Because of the climate in this country, I have virtually connected with a few people in various online groups who I haven't met physically yet but who seem to be sharing the same spirit and the same desires and hopes. At the same time I am letting go of those people in my life who have been holding on to questionable realities and who have been trying to convince me of their absurd belief systems.

Regarding my art life, some very good things have been happening in that department, too. For example, the regional arts council, NCLAC, invited me to make an artist video. And so my husband Markus and I spent a few weeks making a film about my studio and my work during which I created the "Appetizers" piece. We make a good team; my strength is creating storylines, while Markus is amazing with his artistic and technical movie-making skills.

Besides the fact that it is nice to have this video, it has helped me reflecting about my work and to articulate what drives me to do what I do.

Hands of Time

#13 of my "Earth" series.

A piece about time.

Time feels so different these days. Quarantine. More than ever before I'm spending significant time in the backyard, especially because the weather has been quite nice and inviting, and also because there always is something to cut or weed or rake anyways. For example, every day I pick up those hundreds of sweetgum balls that keep falling onto the lawn. They look a lot like coronaviruses, by the way. Looking up the trees, I can expect many more weeks of daily collecting those sweetgum balls, and that's just fine with me. I like doing repetitive things like these. It's calming and has a cleansing quality to it.

Yes, the days seem to have extra hours. Strangely, I'm feeling that these extra hours are not my own time but that I am spending other people's lifetime. In a way, that's actually true. Our family is privileged, we are in a safe place still, we have a home, income, health. We are functioning still. I am grateful for that, and I am heartbroken for those who are not as fortunate. How can we save their time?

This piece is a combination of some lucky finds: The plague doctor comes from a 1940s "Building America" magazine, a special issue about the nation's health situation, and the rainbowish window is cut from a 70s elementary schoolbook. For the numbers I used old Bingo cards, and the aluminum hands I took from an owl-shaped clock that I had bought at a garage sale a few years ago because I loved its charm but then it wasn't working and ended up in my special box labeled "wooden things."

I started out with a completely different concept where I wanted the plague doctor to hold a fly swatter to fight an Earth that was looking like a huge coronavirus. I still like the concept a lot but it didn't work out compositionwise, at least not for this particular series. I like the final result much better than my original idea, and also find its message to be more on point: The doctor is putting the clock together - or maybe he is taking it apart. In both ways I find the clock hands to be quite perfect, as they look like swords. But still, the doctor is not really fighting with these unfit tools that he's got, not visibly. He seems to be figuring out how things work, a bit puzzled, the feet barely on the ground. Altogether I wanted to present the life-or-death scenario like a game show with some magical unicornish rainbow vibe. I think, it works.

"Hands of Time"
Mixed media: clippings from various vintage book sources and bingo cards, fly leaves, ink, aluminum clock hands, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book, 8" x 11"

Mother

#12 of my "Earth" series.

The barefooted woman has been living in my studio for quite some time. I love her, the way how she's smiling with such content, and then the head scarf which indicates various possible origins.

I cut her out a few years ago when I had intended to place her into a huge gardening scenery along with other people where I thought they would water rows and rows of root vegetables. But that very piece actually became something completely different at the end: an ocean with lots of fish competing with each other to get those tiny drops of water coming from a little red watering can tied to the sky ("Whatever It Takes," 2018).

Anyways, this woman had to stay in my drawer for a while. Now she's come out, she's here, taking care of business as "Mother."

"Mother"
Mixed media: clippings from a storybook and a Space collector's album, yellowed edges from book pages, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book, 8" x 11"

Six Feet Apart

#11 of my "Earth" series.

For this one, I have used  an old copy of Goodnight Moon. I love this book, I didn't know it as a child because I grew up in Germany. But my children did, and it was one of their favorite bedtime stories. The words and storyline are simple and yet they deliver the message of peace in the most perfect way.

You may remember the framed picture of the three little bears that was hanging in the bunny's bedroom. Here I placed them six feet apart for obvious reasons. The mouse seems confused.

"Six Feet Apart"
Storybook clippings, scraps from fly leaves and softcovers, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book, 8" x 11"

With Balloon

#10 of the 30-in-30 challenge that I wasn't able to complete in the month of February but which am continuing now that I am having so much time on my hands, for obvious sad reasons.

So this is "With Balloon."

I finished it yesterday. In a way, it is inspired by Banksy's Girl With Balloon. Only that this one is a grown woman, and she is holding on to her balloon, even though she seems quite apathetic about it.

The woman is cut from a sewing book, from a chapter about taking a woman's measurements.

I used balloons from many different children's books. Usually you find them in contexts with circus clowns or birthday parties or a day in the park. A symbol of fun and for childhood. There is something magical about balloons that makes children want to have one. Please Mom, can I have one? They would pick the one they love best, a difficult choice, and then they would hold the string, looking up at the balloon with joy and pride, smiling and probably dreaming about soaring up there, too. This fragile thing will suddenly end up as a wrinkly little thing, if you let it pop, and it will fly away if you don't hold it tightly. It's something to care for and something you have control over.

Later, when you realize that you are not in control over anything, balloons may appear in your dreams, telling you about your own ambitions and about opportunities that you have taken or lost. You can do anything, people like to say in this country. Well yes, that would be very nice. Banksy's Girl With Balloon, which actually is a girl without balloon, is probably as close to the balloon as she will ever be after the wind caught it.

"With Balloon"
Clippings from various children's books and a sewing manual, sewing thread, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book, 8" x 11"

Blue Note

#9 of the 30-in-30 challenge.

I think it is a wonderful coincidence that the world maps on the backs of the LIFE books that I am using for this series have exactly five latitude lines - just like a musical staff. I like the idea of the earth hanging out in there, being a song consisting of only one note, a colossal note, a ponderous note.

At the same time, this note is not massive at all. Because it's a blue note.

As a child I wanted to learn to play the violin, or piano maybe, some instrument that wasn't a recorder or glockenspiel. I didn't get real music lessons back then, and I never took the time to learn it later on.

But I have become a music lover anyways. I appreciate many different music genres. I have developed a love for jazz and blues in particular, and, I believe, some decent understanding of it. 

So this is my love letter to the blue notes and to the artists who know how to play them.

"Blue Note"
Clippings from a storybook, vintage sheet music, and an adult coloringbook, sewing thread, on the hadcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book.

After the Ball

#8 of the 30-in-30  challenge

Whats the elf doing there, said my daughter this morning. No, it's a prince, said my son. He doesn't look like a prince, said my daughter. He doesn't have to, said my son. Oh now I get it, said my daughter. I get it too, said my son. It's it's it's -

Yes, that's right. It's political.

After the ball, the prince finds a glass thing that was left behind on the staircase. Who does it belong to? Good question. The prince looks puzzled and not in touch with the situation.

I used images from a book about mansions in "Early America" (top) and about president's homes (bottom). The elegant room is the East Room in the White House which has been used for balls and other festive events, so I've learned. The room looks lifeless, of course, with no dancers dancing, and the still piano makes the quiet even quieter.

By the way, most colors of the hardcovers that I am using for this series are quite bold; many shades of red and darker blue. Sometimes the world map is printed in black instead of white, and sometimes the lines are very thin, which makes it more challenging to incorporate the graphic into the image. This one was perfect for the glass globe.


"After the Ball"
Book clippings, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book.

Rock Me

#7 of the 30-in-30 challenge.

This rocking chair - what a find! I love the 50s design so much. And yet this piece of furniture certainly does not speak comfort and love. This piece of furniture neither invites an old lady to knit a pair of socks, nor does it serve an overtired mother to fall asleep while nursing her newborn baby. 

I like how the troubled Earth is sitting quietly in the chair. I don't like the fact that the Earth who is in severe need of love and comfort is not able to rock herself to peace.

Interestingly, from far the image looks like a pregnant chick. Let's think about that for a while.

"Rock Me"
Clipping from an antique guide, ink, on hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book.

Find Me

#6 of the 30-in-30 challenge.

"Find Me" may be an open invitation by the reader to join him in his retreat and to discover what he is discovering. Maybe he's asking you to see and understand his mind and his soul. Or maybe it is the globe that is talking to you, inviting you to explore the world and define its meaning and purpose that it has for you.

Whatever you are seeing in this image, it sure is a comfortable place up there.

"Find Me"
Clippings from storybooks, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book

Hopes

This is #5 for the 30-in-30 days challenge, and this is day 11. I've had too much on my agenda to even think about blogging. And actually, this day is not different. So what should I do in  the middle of all this stress that I am currently having? Yes that's right, the right thing to do now is to sit down at our kitchen table, sharing a few minutes with my husband who has turned the radio on and poured me some nice coffee into my chipped favorite mug. Hold me now warm my heart stay with me. Someone is singing, I forgot who. Meanwhile, the soft rain is making little ponds in our flowerbeds for the birds to bathe in.

I made this piece about hopes. Sometimes hope is all we have to keep going. Even if there doesn't seem to be a reasonable basis to have these hopes, you may let yourself fall into something unknown, hoping that the place where you are going to land is going to be better than the place where you came from.

The children which I have chosen for this image all have bare feet to emphasize their ungroundedness. They also have open hands to show their vulnerability. 


"Hopes"
Clippings from storybooks, sewing thread, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book.

Hear Me Sing

Day 4 of the 30-in-30 challenge.

The experience of not being heard is one of the hardest, I find. I find it especially hard when this happens in your immediate surroundings, in an environment that you have known and loved for long because it feels like home. You love and appreciate the people there, the ones who have created this environment and who have made you a part of it too. And then things are changing because of irresponsible decisions made by a few people in power, and the changes are not good.

And you want to help make things good again, you want to protect the people you love, you make suggestions, you get involved, you voice your opinion, you explain your concerns, you discuss and argue, and you show and say how you feel. Still, things continue to change, and the changes are not good.

Sometimes you can't change things, you can just walk away.

"Hear Me Sing"
Clippings from storybooks and catalogs, sewing thread, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE World Library book.

You Should Be Dancing

Two days late but here is my piece for ...

Day 3 of the 30-in-30 challenge.

I am enjoying the theme I have chosen for this challenge. I have lots of ideas in my head what to do with the globe on those "LIFE" hardcovers. I was occupied with ART-ON-45-related things yesterday and also the day before but managed to finish up two pieces this morning. And: my piece for today is half way done already, too!

So. For this one I did the most obvious and considered the globe a disco ball. I found some groovy young folks in several 70s school books; of course, originally, they were not disco dancing but walking to the library, playing ball, or running in the park.

I added different size O's for the light reflections and to make a sociological/psychological/ political/environmental/historical reference. "O" is a typical sound in German language (and in other languages too) to express pain, empathy, or sorrow. There's a lot of all that in the world. But we should be dancing nevertheless and even more so.

"You Should Be Dancing"
Clippings from various 70s school and storybooks, sewing thread, ink, on the hardcover back of a 1960's LIFE world library book.

Birth

Day 2 of the February 30-in-30 challenge.

I like the idea of our planet being exhaled, it's an image that I have had in my head for a long time. With this one I went a little further and made the fish blow smoke rings. Of course, smoking something, no matter what, is not cool these days. However, the seaweed seems impressed.

Like yesterday, I used the back of the hardcover of one of my "LIFE" World Library books as a basis. I made a half circle cut into the fish mouth so the Earth would appear to be coming out of it.

I like to incorporate sewing threads into my work, especially the ones which used to belong to my grandmother. She used to make dresses for my sister and me when we were children. My grandmother left 25 years ago, and I miss her still so much. Using her threads in my work makes me feel more connected to her and I want to believe that she is feeling that too.

"Birth"
Storybook clippings, sewing thread, ink, on the back of the hardcover of a 1960's LIFE World Library book, 8" x 10"


 

Free

My son Jacob pointed out this morning that my last blog post was from early October. That's right. I did my annual 30-paintings-in-30-days challenge last fall, and then got distracted and too busy. For example, I visited my family in Germany for a couple weeks. Came back, had an art event, then Christmas happened, which was beautiful but too short to make me relax. New Year, new resolutions, new everything.

I got an award from the local arts Council, "Artist of the Year" which makes me feel proud and very honored. Got an invite for my first solo show - really? Yes. My annual fundraising art project "ART ON 45" is keeping me busy these days. And in the middle of all that, I am finding myself doing another 30-in-30 challenge, starting today.

I'm doing the challenge more or less out of despair, because I have this huge pile of special edition "LIFE" books that I recently received from a dear friend. These books are from the early 1960s. They are beautiful, and a little or very outdated, charming books indeed. They take a lot of room in my studio though, so I had to come up with something quickly.

I love the hardcovers of those books, especially the backs. They all have the same design: One solid color (a different color per book) and in the middle is a simple image of the earth as a global map. I love it. I have 26 books altogether and I am intending to make a series of collages, all based on these hardcover backs.

So this is my first one: "Free."

I used photo images from dikes/levees to make an inhospitable landscape. I added sewing threads to make plants without blossoms and leaves to suggest that this vegetation may not multiply.
The scenery doesn't look very hopeful; something has come to an end, or something has just started, or both. Or neither. Meanwhile the figure is sitting on the earth as on an ottaman, being in his own self, listening to his own voice. Nothing else matters. At the end, nothing else matters.

I used sandpaper to make the sky. And a little bit of inkpen here and there.

"Free"
Book clippings, sewing thread, ink, on the back of a LIFE World Library book, 8" x 11"