The Flog.

LA based artist Richard Colman has a short interview on Fecal Face about his new body of work and his current solo, The Ghost at White Walls in San Francisco.

In the interview, Colman talks about disappearance:

__”Well the idea for the ghost sort of started out because my paintings tend to Have a lot of the old sketches on the panels before I finally get to the Image that I like and they have a ghost-like quality to them. Then as I Thought more about the title the ghost, I started to think about some of my Own feelings of being detached from my life, physically there but not really Present, you know? I have become increasingly busier in the past few years So I’ve been feeling sort of like I have been disappearing from my own life, So the show sort of has a lot to do with that I guess.

The characters in this set of paintings are sort of being swallowed up by The compositions, even becoming the composition. The end result represents The transition or metamorphosis of the character, changing into something Completely different from what they physically are.”

Scroll for a lof of images featured in the show. Gorgeous new work, go see it it in person before the show closes October 6th.
Colman’s work will also be on view both at Preview Art Fair in Berlin, and at the Zoo Art Fair in London, presented by v1 gallery.

(All images from Fecal Face)

- Caryn is back on art.blogging.la and it feels good. I am really looking forward to seeing the new September site and its sweet implementations. And I have to say that Caryn brings out important points regarding the core idea of blogging, the privilege of being able to read something free and independent and the not all-inclusive aspect of each post. Points that I often re-digest as I decide to post about a show I saw and liked. Read her full entry here.

- Monsieur Ed Templeton was interviewed for the new issue of Artkrush. He talks about yes you figured, skateboarding, and art, as well as the Beautiful Losers enterprise, and ANP quarterly. The later being lovely resumed as is:__That’s basically it: the freedom to do what we want, without having any other agenda, because the magazine is free, and it doesn’t take advertising. It’s wide open, so I’m interested in pushing beyond mainstream culture.

- This morning, I checked Artipedia and saw this post, in the form of a letter written by Philippe Mogane, co-founder of the Punk label Siamese Records, back in 1977, and addressed to Craig Leonard, following on his current show at Raid Projects. Fabulous.- On Saturday, I went to Robert Berman Gallery to see the gorgeous installation of Brooklyn-based artist, Jason Peters. Dress in black and pick a slow gallery day to fully enjoy the intimate experience.

(Left image is Ed Templeton, from Artkrush website. Middle is Philippe Mogane, from Artipedia. Right image is Jason Peters from Robert Berman Gallery.)

London based artist Wilfrid Wood has an interview on Beinghunted. __”I invented these characters. They are cast in resin, usually painted with an airbrush and varnished. Sometimes I leave them plain but polished. They are from 4″ to 12″ high.”

(All images Wilfrid Wood, left is Proud Farmer, middle is Bikers and right is Travis)

To stay in the british category, Concrete Hermit collective put together Nib Wax, a web space which “brings together and showcase the work of international artists and illustrators“.
The first issue features the work of Sara Rodgers, Bob London, G3L and Nicholas Di Genova, who was also recently showing at Harvey Levine Gallery’s booth during artLA.

(All images from Nob Wax, left is Sara Rodgers, right is G3L)

Kris Chatterson.
Friday, November 18th, 2005 - Upland, CA.

middle image: Depth of Complexity, acrylic on canvas, 96 x 92 inches, 2005.
right image: Back detail from Dark Heart (With a Crash and a Shwoosh), acrylic on canvas, 2005.

Could you please introduce yourself, what you do, why you decided to come to LA and why you stayed?

I am 26, I was born in Orlando, Florida. I came to California, to go to graduate school. While I was in undergrad in Florida, I spent some time in New York, in the New York Studio Program. So I kind of got a feel of New York, and while I was there, a lot of discussions around my work was LA, so I figured, why not go to school in LA. There is so many great graduate schools there, so I did. One of the reasons why I wanted to go to school in LA was because I wanted to be part of that community. It seemed like it was young enough and open enough to artists that maybe were thinking a little differently about making art. Not like the sort of traditional hierarchical like in New York.
It seems like a better place to really enter the art world as a young artist. So that’s why I came and that’s why I stayed.

Did LA make sense in regards to your ideas?

I think that a lot of that grew while I was still an undergrad and considering where to go in terms of where I wanted to go, but I will definitely say, Florida and LA, at least for where I come from in Florida, Orlando - that’s Disney world - I essentially went from Disney world to Disneyland. So I think, in a lot of ways, culturally I kind of just switched coasts but I am really kind of in the same sort of ultra suburban environment. But there is Art here, and there is a real vibrant young art scene happening and I really wanted to be a part of it.
Also, while I was in New York. The conversations that I was having about my work with other artists and critics. LA would come up and I think it was my disposition towards paint, towards light and color. They really brought that along even though I think some of the way the work is now you can see a New York influence but I think the space and light that’s in it is definitely sort of seen as more a west coast.

Were you specifically looking for this suburban inspiration for your work?

It was something I understood and I knew I could, not maybe talk about, but I understood it. And I could be comfortable in it enough to really focus on work. One of the great things about LA and also it contrasts NY is the space. Like, the amount of actual real estate a young artist can afford to have and devote to their work. An also, the isolation of it. You know in NY, you have a little studio crammed on top of someone else’s little studio and you are constantly bombarded with tons of, just, daily stuffs. Life on the street. And in LA, you are in the car, you are in your studio, or you are at the grocery store and it is a very isolating place even though it’s such a big metropolis. But it also affords you the time to have like a mental or psychic life or an imaginary life to yourself which I think is important, at least for me as an artist..

I am always curious to understand how artists express their interest in LA and its inspiration.

My take on, so far is that you have enough isolation with yourself that you really get to see what you are made of. And really where you want to go.

I came across this exhibition which will open this weekend, November 18, in San Francisco titled "Abstraction is dead, long live to abstraction". Why, do you think such a statement has its importance and do you think that it has, somehow, to be made?

I think that to give a very accurate response I would need to know more of the curator’s intent and what they meant. And have a little more than just the title, even though the title is a little provocative. I mean, we’ve had speculations about that in terms of Abstraction dying and then being reborn, forever. Even in the 80’s, there were all these shows and here is the old generation of old-school abstraction and here is the new generation which is actually an older generation for me so I am, I guess, the newest generation interested in Abstraction. So maybe they are talking about, you know that old saying, you have to kill your parents in order to make a life of your own so maybe they are paying homage to the older generation while kind of looking at a younger generation. I think I would need to know more about the artists who are in it and how their works interact together. But I personally don’t find it to be that provocative in that it has been a statement that has been made over and over again.
But I do think it is important that each generation defines itself as it’s own, against, or in contrast to the previews.

Would you agree as Jonathon Keats was stating, that "abstraction has to be reinvented"?

I must say that I don’t agree with his statement in full. I think that maybe what he is trying to get across is the sense that each generation needs to re define.. or define themselves. I don’t think to reinvent. Because how do you reinvent painting? That doesn’t really ring truth to me.
Even though I know categorically I am an abstract painter, I try not to think of myself as only an abstract painter, but a painter at large. I look at all kinds of paintings and I think it’s important to see where you can bring in elements from even other art forms into the work. Within my own work, space and light, time, movement, all of which could be coming from video or film or dance. Things of that nature. Moving up the body.
I don’t like, in terms of thinking about my work, to pin myself down to a saying I am this abstract painter and I am going to reinvent abstract painting. I feel like, I am a painter, who happens to paint abstractly, that’s trying to search out and find other ways or new ways to represent a painting that is been made right now.

left image: studio shot, on view is Muscle,Guts and Luck, acrylic on canvas, 66 x 60 inches, 2005.
middle & right image: details from Muscle,Gutters and Luck.

You said something about video. When I look at this piece, Muscle, Gutters and Luck, I am thinking about a night car crash taking place here in LA. There is something very photographic in this work.

I am by nature a nocturnal painter. And it could be because that’s when the world is the most quiet where I have the sort of space in my mind to just be alone with the work. And I think even my earlier highly saturated paintings had a nocturnal feel. But yes, I do think that the layering and this compression of the space that also allows vast openings of space is very characteristic of LA. This particular metropolis because you have areas that are just compressed with people and infrastructures and then all of a sudden you go over the hill and it’s this just vast openness. You feel like you can breathe. But then, you go down the hill and you are right back in it.

How would you say that this particular environment influence your work?

I think it’s everything. I was thinking about myself as a painter a lot, because I knew you were coming, and one of the things I summed up is that I am definitely more of a introverted painter or artist in general, in that, I live in the world and I take everything thing in from the world. I love this essay by Merleau-Ponty, Eye and Mind. He talks about how painters often feel the world looking back at them and how painters live in this constant state of fascination, which I definitely identify with. Because, whereas I am sitting stuck in traffic and frustrated, I am still looking and absorbing. And also what’s going on globally, I am still thinking. So when it all comes down to the moments that I am painting, I think all of this things fracture into my decision because it is which is shaping all of our lives.

The paintings take a long time. Usually, two to three months, which might not seem to be the case. But they are built in layers. The layers, first have to dry, but also, I like to spend time with them as they are going through each stage of development to really get to know them, to find out what they are all about. So it is slow. And I think that is what I like about painting is, that it’s slow. And I think it’s important, specially in our sort of super fast, you know, get-it-now, world. Something more fundamental happens when you do slow down and allow something in. Whether it’s painting or not, but just the idea of slowing down. And giving yourself over to either the process or as a viewer giving yourself over to a particular work and really investing your time in it.

When do you know when a piece is done?

Well, That’s the age old question, especially to abstract painters.. How do you know when it’s done… And the best answer is, you just… You just know. All the pieces not necessarily fit but something happens in the painting retinaly that effects your body in a way that you know something has happened in the painting and it needs to stop. That this is what needs to be shown.
You can’t go any further with it, it’s time to move on. Or it’s time to let this one go and continue on with the rest of the work. Because I guess it’s important to know that I don’t work on one painting at a time, I work on several at a time. And sometimes, they get put away and get brought back out. And then get worked over again because maybe I’m not ready to look at the painting. You know the painting hasn’t revealed itself to me yet enough for me to go back and work more. So, I will put it away for a while, while I work on other things. And as i’m working on other things, something happens and I learn something or, something new happens or unexpected that is the key to the painting I just put away.
So I bring it back out so this whole other world sort of opens up in the work.

left & right images: Studio shots.

Would you consider the pieces that you do simultaneously, part of a series or independent from each other?

They are definitely independent from one another. And I work, not that I work hard at it, but I just think it’s just the nature of how I work that each piece needs to be distinct. As it is apart from everything else. There are similar marks, similar colors, but they are all arranged very differently and they all sort of come to the foreground and move to the background differently in each one. That’s how I keep going, it’s that constant trying to push, trying to push, trying to push beyond. Find that next unexpected element to arise and then push that into the next group of paintings.

What part of your work could be intuitive and which part would follow your line of confidence? How do you see those two balancing into the result?

I think they are one in the same. Because the way I view intuition is that you’ve done something so long that your body just knows it. And it is almost on an instinctive level. So as you paint or do whatever for a certain amount of years, there are these things you just know and they are not at the forefront of your conscious thought.
Because a lot of times, when you are learning it’s there because you are not trying to take it in.
But as you take it in and as you do it over and over and over again.. Like there are certain ways I mix colors. I know how to get what I want, but it’s not something that I had to write down and figure out, because I’ve already figured it out that it’s there. So I don’t have to think about it, which allows me more time and space in my mind to think about or to prepare for what I want to do on the painting. I’m not freaking out over about trying to get a certain viscosity of paint or a certain color.

Well, I do keep a sketchbook which is super super important to my process because, not so much drawing, but more writing my own thoughts about the work. Kind of trying to express my work trough language helps solidify it in my mind. That it allows me to move forward into the next group of paintings. So I write a lot in my journal and also sketch but the writing I think is more important.

Do you see these sketches as the beginning of a new piece or is it more like exercising? like training your mind, or training your arm..

I think it’s more a visual exercise. Because the nature of the pen or the pencil that I’m using, you can’t get that flow or that width of mark that you can as you are painting. So I generally try to sketch paintings more structurally. Like how could I set up other structures to allow these more organic structures to overlap and engage. So it’s also a lot, I guess, more immediate, I can make these tiny little sketches and just do 50 of them in the space of half an hour to an hour.

You talked about video or dance as sources of inspiration, can you talk more about it?

Video and films, I would definitely say it’s the light and space element of the work. My generation, we grew up, we were kids in the 80’s, teenagers in the 90’s, so video games and MTV was like, there with us the all way. Going to the movies, the sort of dazzling, sort of spectacle of special effects and films and the quality of video games got better and better. So there were always sort of that sensibility of light coming from the screen. I think it’s not just me, I see it a lot in other painters as well. The glowing light sort of irradiating out or even glowing into or trying to come out of a particular work.

How do you decide a certain size for your paintings?

It would have to do with how I want the viewer to respond to the work. I shouldn’t say want to, but how it actually does respond to the viewer or a viewer’s body. I prefer to work on somewhat large scale. I think the paintings work better because of the tools I use and how I like to engage my own body in the work but also how it effects the viewer’s body. You know, having something, an eight foot painting that’s bigger than you, you have a different body relationship, a different sensation to the painting. Not to say that you can’t have those with a smaller painting but the smaller paintings to me, are more intimate. Given the way I paint is more about the body rather then my wrist. Because to paint these, I have to engage my whole body into that.

left & middle image: Studio shots.
right image: Dark Heart (Black #1), acrylic on canvas, 37 1/2 x 36 inches, 2005.

Can you talk about your upcoming show at Western Project, Oceans?

I knew there was going to be a group show that I was going to, somehow, be involved with. Back in the summer time. And I had made work, not specifically for the show because I am always working, and then Cliff, my dealer, came by, picked up a series of paintings and picked out the painting that worked best for the show.

So you didn’t create the piece on display specifically for the show.

No.
I don’t really work that way. I haven’t cross that bridge yet. I am still working, just working away.

Did you work on any specific pieces for your upcoming solo show at Western Project?

The way I normally work and get ready for a show is I’ll make a lot of work on a smaller scale, really trying to sift through and sort out ideas and concepts until I feel like I am really ready to approach larger paintings, because I do know I want larger paintings for the show. I want my work to be fully present in that space. So once I’ve done that, I’ll take my process to the larger painting and then see what happens and see where it goes. What ever works out to make enough work for the show is what will be in the show.

So you don’t have a preconceived idea of a theme that you could bring out for a particular show.

Not ahead of time. I’m the kind of painter that paint it first and then think about it and then paint again and think about it.
If I ever have a preconceived Idea it goes right out the door the minute I start to paint. So, for me it’s useless to have them. I mean it’s nice to have maybe a number of ideas, floating around, and then see what sets in as your working, but I can’t pick just a single thing and then work, because it will fly right out the door the second I start to paint.

Do you think there is a certain kind of trance that make you do your paintings if you don’t think ahead of them? How would you describe the state that you are in when you paint?

That’s kind of a tricky, tricky question..

Maybe you are in a different mood or different state of mind when you paint?

Absolutely. I don’t really think that any artists of any sort when they are actually creating will deny that they were in an altered state of mind. But I think some of the language that’s around that, sort of altered state, has become a little, what’s the right word.. Just become a little, I guess just too familiar with. And it really cheapens the experience, a lot of language around that state of mind. So I don’t really know how to characterize it. It’s definitely outside the realm of language, which also interests me a lot in terms of my work.

Is there a certain piece of work you would like to discuss?

How about you ask me questions about a painting? I think it would work better. You know, the painting is what it is. I don’t know how it changes the paiting by talking about it, because, the paintings really are about that experience and then your experience with the painting.

My questions might be too literal or too technical.. Well, I like how the texture of your paint will get darkly translucent or will carry strong and opaque whites.. Which are not questions, more impressions I have or feel about your work.

You said I don’t how to say I just know how to feel and I think that’s probably the most important thing to get from the painting. Is that is exists outside of language, the words aren’t there because it’s more sensation in terms of where the painting meet your eyes, how the retinal information affects your body. That’s what I am interested in, that is I think, the core of what I am interested in, not just in my own work, but in all work that I look at. It is that moment where your body is affected by the presence of the work at hand.

all images: details from On the tip of my tongue, acrylic on canvas, 5.5×5 feet, 2005.

left image: On the tip of my tongue, acrylic on canvas, 5.5 x 5 feet, 2005.
right image: Studio shot, on view is Dark Heart (There Is No There There), acrylic on canvas, 66 x 60 inches, 2005.

all image: Oceans exhibition shot & details from Divergent Fracture, acrylic on canvas, 7×6 feet, 2005.