Listened to the artist – Julia Holderness

 

Listened to a talk tonight by Julia Holderness

There was no mention of “the theatre workshops at the Bauhaus” that were in the blurb & what attracted me.

Wonderful exploration of metaxy, medial aspect, “truth”.

Exhibitions | University of Canterbury
— Read on www.canterbury.ac.nz/arts/schools-and-departments/school-of-fine-arts/exhibitions/

Working with a range of archival materials from the Macmillan Brown Library & Heritage Collections, Julia Holderness explores her own textile making alongside that of artist and teacher Florence Akins (1906-2012). Akins’ documents relate to her teaching of textiles at the Canterbury College School of Art, and include lecture notes and other instructional resources such as colour diagrams. Holderness reworks them and presents their possible entanglement with the international Bauhaus movement. Connections are also made with Florence Weir (1899-1979), currently the only known New Zealander to have studied at the Bauhaus. In 1936 Weir designed the costumes and sets for a local Christchurch production, and these were said to have been inspired by her time at the Bauhaus. The production was never staged publicly, and in the absence of any surviving documentation, Holderness imagines these designs in an appliqué series. This exhibition is part of a Visual Arts PhD in practice-led research at Auckland University of Technology, in which Holderness develops practices of fabrication, approximation and invention to interrogate archives and their construction of art-historical narratives.

“…construction of art-history.” ?

Wabi Sabi Photos -> Mark Tobey

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Now I wonder how much wabi sabi influenced the work of Jackson Pollock and those whom bought calligraphic ideas from japan like Mark Tobey

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Autumn Field

1957
Mark Tobey
Born: Centerville, Wisconsin 1890
Died: Basel, Switzerland 1976
tempera on paper
sheet: 47 x 36 in. (119.4 x 91.5 cm)
Smithsonian American Art Museum
Gift of S.C. Johnson & Son, Inc.
1968.52.23

Not currently on view

NewImage

Poem and Paintings

I like this poem by David Dominguez.

And I found images of the portrait, and the watermelon paintings as well.

 

Wedding Portrait

BY DAVID DOMINGUEZ

Yesterday afternoon, I hung a framed print in the living room—
a task that took two head-throbbing hours.
It’s a wedding portrait that we love: Frida and Diego Rivera.
I wonder how two people could consistently hurt each other,
but still feel love so deeply as their bones turned into dust?
Before Frida died, she painted a watermelon still life;
before his death, Diego did too.
I want to believe that those paintings were composed
during parallel moments because of their undying devotion.
If I close my eyes, I can see melon wedges left like
centerpieces except for the slice
Diego put on the table’s corner—
one piece of fruit pecked at by a dove
that passed through a window.
I know that I won’t be building a bookshelf anytime soon
and that the chances of me constructing a roll-top desk
are as slim as me building an Adirondack chair that sits plumb,
but I’m good with the spackle and putty knives in my tool belt.
The knots in my back might not be there
if I had listened to her suggestions,
and I could well have done without two hours of silence
over a few holes in the wall.
But somehow, life has its ways of working things out.
This afternoon, I shut the blinds,
turned off the TV, lights, and phone,
and massaged my wife’s feet to fight off a migraine—
her second one this week despite
the prophylactics and pain killers that we store in the breadbox.
For once, I’d like to experience what she feels:
nausea, blindness, and pain that strike
when the cranial vessels dilate,
fill with blood, leak, and make the brain swell.
Earlier, an MRI triggered the reaction as it mapped her head
with electrical current, gradient magnets, and radio waves
hammering her floundering eyes.
For now, we have our room, the bed frame, and the mattress
where she lies as I knead her toes.
Come nightfall, I hope that we’ll sit in the patio and watch
the breeze stirring the lemon, lime, and orange trees
that I planted along the back fence.
On certain nights, the moon turns our lawn
into green acrylic where we sip Syrah and mint tea
until all we know is the sound
of our breathing among the whispering leaves.

David Dominguez, “Wedding Portrait” from The Ghost of Cesar Chavez. Copyright © 2010 by David Dominguez.  Reprinted by permission of C&R Press.

Source: The Ghost of Caesar Chavez: Poems (C&R Press, 2010)

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Viva La Vida  1954

Perhaps this was the portrait:

Howard Rheingold

from here

An experiment in automatic drawing

I put myself in a receptive state of mind and let my hand just move without attempting to direct it, Ouija-board style.

This is in the tradition … Mark Toby, Jackson Pollock, letting nature come through … nature’s handwriting.