The Unwilling Feminist. Or, dealing with the role of gender in one's own art.

I hopped the Metro-North up to New Haven yesterday to attend Yale's MFA Open House. On the way back, my tired mind inevitably wandered to the topic of my own artwork. It looped idly around the whats and whys, contextualized by having just visited a dozen studios of first-year MFA students as they approach the end of their first semester in the country's top painting grad program. My conversations with them tended toward a discussion of their work itself and how its direction is changing since coming into the program, the where and when of their undergrad, and the portfolio and interview portions of the application process. And so I was left pondering how the disparate tangents of work that I'm making and brainstorming (the bodyfolds, the babies, the dress paintings) make sense together as a body of work.

This isn't a new rumination, by any means. Since mostly abandoning my previous 'style'/approach, I've been trying to let myself paint whatever it is that attracts me, without [too much] judgement. There have been ample fits and starts and dead ends, though, leaving a wake of scattered ideas and unfinished pieces. How to bring it all together into something cohesive and application-worthy (whether for grad school or another opportunity) is something I'm often trying to figure out.

Bodyfolds 1 Oil on canvas, 23"x23"

Baby #3: Dexter Oil on canvas, 17"x17"

This train of thought keeps bringing me to the same conclusion: I seem to be painting about "women's issues." And every time I reach that idea, I'm quite taken aback. Surprised, and dare I say, appalled. And then I'm a little horrified or embarrassed at my own reaction. Is it really so horrible to think that I might be painting about "women's issues," whatever that means? Is the thought of being a feminist artist so terrible?

No, of course not. But it's not something I identify with, either. I've never considered “women's issues” or feminism at all central to my existence or philosophy, perhaps to the chagrin of the women around me. I have been content to essentially see the world as somewhat ungendered, or to accept and live by "men's" rules (and often, to win by them, at least according to my own scorekeeping). The way I see it, I am a body but I don't feel like a terribly gendered body.

Except when I do feel like a terribly gendered body, which of course makes me incredibly anxious. And my paintings tend to come from a place of anxiety. If the challenge is now to figure out the underlying impetus of my imagemaking (rather than what the images themselves have in common, which worked for me in the past) then maybe there's your answer.

So, now to deal with this idea that I might be painting about "women's issues" or making "feminist art" or something along those lines. I think one problem I have with owning those sorts of statements is that they feel incredibly universal, whereas I'm intending to make work about the personal. I'm primarily just sorting out my own shit here; if it's relevant or resonates with someone else, that's great, but ultimately it's secondary. I identify more closely with the multitudes of artists who use personal mythology, psychology, and narrative as content. Furthermore, there's some frustration over the tendency for the question of gender to always be brought up in the context of women's work, but not in a man's.

Help Is Not Appealing
Karla Black, 2010
Sugar paper, chalk, spray paint, ribbon.

“It bothers me that only women's work is gendered. I wouldn't mind these questions if male artists were also asked them.” - Karla Black, interviewed in Modern Painters, October 2011

But I also wonder if that tide might be turning a bit. Both Andrew Salgado (whose show, “Anxious,” was up at Tache Gallery until just today, I believe) and Aaron Smith are working with ideas about masculinity and its portrayal in a way that seems akin to how some women artists who really own their feminine or feminist content have been dealing with those issues.

Untitled (After Bataille)Andrew Salgado, 2010 Oil on canvas, 40"x36"

Zooshy Aaron Smith: 2011 Oil on panel, 60"x48"

In examining my work, where it comes from, and where it fits, I think what is closer to the truth is that it comes out of my failure or refusal to embrace women's role(s). The bodyfolds paintings definitely arose out of a tense relationship with my own flesh. The baby paintings arose out of my anxiety (and if I'm totally honest, my attraction/repulsion tension) over children and childbearing. The dress paintings started with inklings of feminine costume or artifice -- quite literally the "trappings" of womanhood? -- perhaps involving mother-daughter relationships and coming-of age rites, and are now shaping up to have something to do with a feeling of foreignness in my own skin.

Lastly, part of my rejection or discomfort over where or whether my art might intersect feminist art comes out of the fact that I'm almost wholly uninformed about the whole thing. Feminism and art? I have no clue, really. I was at the Brooklyn Art Museum a few weeks ago with a friend, where we saw the Dinner Party and got into a discussion about its merits or lack thereof. All I could really say is something like “well it's art-historically important.” I have embarrassingly little knowledge of that whole realm, both historically and whatever may be going on contemporarily. Luckily, to fix that, I just need to read up.

Little synaptic sparks of memory

I've had quite a surge of inspiration/impetus to paint lately, but of course, the nature of such things is that they ebb and flow, wax and wane. And now it has waned a bit (in part because I have new painting ideas, but must gesso more muslin to get started... puts the brakes on a bit).


Tonight, to fill the void of inspiration, and the time between coats of gesso, I've gone back to working on the second Hemlock Semiconductor commissioned painting. I feel like it's going in a really nice direction, one that I didn't have much trouble picking back up on even though it's been a little bit since I've touched it. Plus, I have to say I welcome the technical challenge of this one in particular. The transparency, slight waxiness, and internal structure of the quartz still has me baffled -- I'm currently just glazing layers of semi-transparent color and hoping that something strikes me. And the polysilicon ingots, though much more of a predictable geometric and solid shape, still make me think hard due to their changing angles and the sheen of their surface. I've always had a hard time with surfaces and sheens in paintings; all of my textures come out the same. But I'll be very surprised if I haven't improved that particular skill by the time this one's finished.

Blocking in the silhouettes of the furthest-back ingots, I got a memory flash of Charles Demuth's "My Egypt," which I once wrote a paper on for Art History class. Something about the current flatness and linearity of the ingots, and their shape, similar to grain silos, and the general verticality, I suppose. Clearly not very similar paintings, but the connection made me smile.

Charles Demuth: "My Egypt," 1927, oil on composition board, 35 3/4 x 30 inches

George Saunders on allegiance to one's style

A writer-friend of mine, Casey Plett, turned me on to this project a classmate of his at Columbia is working on called The Days of Yore. It's a collection of interviews with various writers (and a few artists, musicians, etc., but mostly writers) about the days before they were famous/acclaimed and whatnot. It's fairly run-of-the-mill content-wise, but has this 'talking shop' feeling that is generally lacking from more public-interest type interviews. After all, it's writers talking to writers, so the combination of articulative skill and a deep connection with the creative process results in a pretty successful finished product. (I feel like I get more out of these writer-to-writer conversations than I would get out of an equivalent artist-to-artist interview specifically because of the skill of articulation that writers necessarily have... We visual artists are not necessarily the best of wordsmiths, let's admit it.)

Anyway, the most recent installment, interviewing George Saunders (who to be quite honest I've never heard of) included this statement, which struck me as being particularly relevant to my current style/subject shift: "...At any given moment, certain styles are going to seem more urgent and truthful. So the trick is not to get fossilized in something you’ve already done, out of some sense of allegiance to 'your' style."


In the most recent manic, figurative painting phase, I've been painting frantically at night, listening exclusively to Floater's Stone by Stone through headphones (headphones give a much more thoroughly insulated feeling than speakers in that they block out all ambient noise -- footsteps of A headed for the bathroom, dog nails across the wood floor -- and allow me to be contently straight-jacketed inside my own head), photographing the stages of each painting diligently, but otherwise avoiding looking at them. Especially in daytime. During nighttime, I've decided, my mind accesses this whole other part of itself, and the resultant mind-hand coordination is way more direct.

Not that it means I have any idea where it's going. That's the motivation behind not looking at the work except when I'm working on it. Trying to not second-guess myself. Trying to let my gut have its way with the world.

Toward a new figuration, I suppose.

I may be working figuratively again. That is, if I wasn't already before...

I'm still not clear on the nomenclature regarding style in the art world. Does figurative mean that one's work necessarily involves the figure? (The human figure??) Is all other work dealing with things from reality simply representational? What about work dealing with things that don't necessarily exist in reality, but could? Is that surrealism, or is that an art-historical term reserved for Dali and crew? Perhaps it's a matter of capitalization, surrealism versus Surrealism.

Anyway, I may be painting figuratively works with people in them for the first time in quite a while. I've been having the urge to, but putting it off or denying it because "I don't paint figurative work." But I paint from my gut, so those urges are all I've got. If I can't listen to myself, that doesn't leave me with much.

Structure...

I'm feeling really good about where this is going...

And in other news, I'm (super-extra) happy to announce that Plan B is the first brick-and-mortar store in the Portland area! Go in and check out this gallery-slash-gift shop on 2415 N.E. Broadway, and say hi to Brad and his adorable itty bitty dog, Pearl.

Divide and Conquer...

February: short but busy

It amuses me that I've taken on so many shows in a month that is so short. At least I'm keeping busy! So here's the gauntlet of show cards and info (in chronological order, for your convenience):

First to open is the Robot Love show at the newest and itty-bittiest gallery in NoPo, Good. It's a group show in which I have a painting. Look for my standard fleshiness with a touch of disturbing technology, and, um, arachnid-ness. (That's just how it came out.) I'm excited to see the range of artists that the gallery and its owner, who's very cool and talented, btw, have attracted.

The gallery is located at 4325 N. Mississippi Ave. The show opens on the 6th -- that's this Friday -- with the reception running from about 7 to 10. (If you want to run into me, hang around till the end. I'll be swinging by after I get off work at 9.) If you miss the opening, normal gallery hours are Thursday 4-7 pm and Saturday noon-4pm.

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Next up is the 4th Annual Love Show. It's still put together by the Launch Pad, but this year it's in conjunction with Chris Haberman/Portland City Art, and it's gonna be huge. So huge, in fact, that it's not going to be held at the Olympic Mills Building, just a few blocks away. See if you can find my piece among the work of 200+ artists. I'll give you a hint, it's a screen print.

The Olympic Mills Building is located at 107 SE Washington. (Careful: Google maps seems confused about which street is Washington.) The opening is the 13th, that's next Friday, from 7pm to midnight. Plus, it's doubling as a charity event: bring some canned goods or buy a piece of art and help out the Food Bank and Buckman Elementary.
Normal hours for the show are tentatively Monday through Friday, 8am to 6pm, and "some" Saturday hours. See the show's website, www.launchpadgallery.org/loveshow4, for specifics.

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And last but not least, my very own solo show at Seven Virtues. I'm calling it "Wet Paint" because it's all new work. So new that it's not even done yet! (No, really...) Paintings small and large and a handful of limited edition screen prints guarantee a variety of price points.

Physical show cards are in the mail -- but only if I have your address! If you want one, email me your mailing address and I'll send one on its way.

Seven Virtues is located at 5936 NE Glisan, right on the corner. The show will be up by Monday the 16th, but the reception will be on the 19th (that's a Thursday) from 6-8ish in the evening. Come have some coffee and chat with me!

Art Nouveau Room Screen

A couple days ago I finally finished this room screen painting project that I've been working on for FOR. E. VER. But it's done, and gorgeous. I'm very satisfied. And its owner took it home and loves it as well, which is even better. And now, I'm obligated to post pics -- which really deserve a full view.

As if getting a project done isn't sufficient reward in itself, I also got about a third of my painting studio back (the screen took up the whole end wall) and I can get back to painting in oils (the screen was all acrylics).

That's not to say it wasn't fun, though, and a nice departure from my "normal" painting style. It was also really fun to make something specifically designed for someone's personal space. The person who commissioned it left it very open as to what I was to do, except that copper is her favorite metal. So I took a poster she had of the Eiffel Tower being built and used that as my starting point. It inspired me to look at the Art Nouveau style entrances to the Paris metro, and other architectural details from that period. I only realized later that it would go particularly well with many of the paintings she has throughout her place, which are sort of Impressionist style.

This project actually reminded me a lot of set painting, which I haven't gotten to do for years now -- without the reassurance that "it only has to look good from far away." Needless to say it brought out my perfectionist neuroses, as evidenced by the fact that I painted most of it with a quarter inch brush. But it turned out great. And I actually finished it, which is (sadly) more than I can say for many of the project I start.

Oh, before I go I should post a pic of my latest greeting card. I'm working on some other designs, but I don't expect them to be done particularly soon. But the ones that do exist are all available for purchase now in singles and 5-packs on my etsy: carlybodnar.etsy.com. Enjoy!

New Painting, as yet untitled

Finished up one of the paintings that's been on the wall for too long. (I have to make room to start new work.) It's about 4 ft tall by 2 or 2.5 ft wide. Not sure what to call it -- been struggling with that the whole time I've been working on it. It's "about" multiple unrelated things. Don't want to pin it down too specifically with a title. Worth looking at the larger view. Better pictures to come later.