View allAll Photos Tagged kmcomment
"Merry Go Round (Alice K)", 1991, ink on paper, 22" x 15"
The setting here is the campus of KCA, a boarding school in Taejon, South Korea, in the late '70s. This was the school I attended when my family was in Korea. In the original photograph that I based this drawing on the were a group of students on the merry-go-round, but I decided to remove all but the most marginal (both in the photograph and in the culture of the school) person in the photograph. Pay heed to those on the edges.
A
This is a new edit of an image I posted a while back based on one of Kathleen Mercado's photographs. Check out my previous image and link to Kathleen's photo here.
Part of the reason that I am posting this is to give you a heads up about an exhibition that will include Kathleen's paintings. The exhibition is titled "The Marketplace of Mysteries" and it will include work by Kathleen, Samanatha Haring, Conrad Bakker and Mark Ottens. I am really excited about this show and the opportunity it gives those in the Chicago area to see Kathleen's work along with her illustrious co-exhibitors. The show will be in the Carlson Tower Gallery of North Park University and will run November 1 – 22 with an opening reception on Wednesday, November 1, from 4 – 7 pm.
"Lament (after KM)", 2017, acrylic on panel, 7" X 5". Collection Museo de Mercado
I made this recently for my friend Kathleen Mercado whose painting by the same title was stolen from the gallery at North Park University this past fall. I've run the NPU gallery for over 25 years and this is the first original work of art to be stolen.
The way I work is very different than Kathleen and after the painting was stolen I really liked the idea of doing an homage / study as a way thinking about work / process. She works very fast and I suspect my painting took about four times as long to make. It is rather crusty.
Incidentally, most likely if you are reading this you already know Kathleen's work. And you probably know that she is a very generous and insightful commenter. There are many people who have commented on my work (thanks to all!), but Kathleen has been exemplary. To give a bit of an idea: I went back through posts for a bit and tagged ones where her comment was especially interesting / meaningful. Goodness gracious: #kmcomment
Helt, Tim Lowly © 2015, acrylic on panel, 24" x 18"
This painting is part of the re. Rainbow Girl project. The "meaning" of these paintings is suggested in part by their conversation with specific works of art–mainly well known European paintings. The reference this painting is making is probably one of the most apparent. The composition bears a strong resemblance to Norwegian painter Christian Krohg's painting titled Syk Pike (Sick Girl). The better known Edvard Munch made a similar painting by the same title. It is perhaps obvious that I'm making a significant shift with the title here: instead of titling this painting "Syk Pike" I'm using the Norwegian word "Helt", which can be translated as either the noun "hero" or the adverbs "completely" or "whole" (it's etymology seems to have similar roots as the English word "health"). To use a word such as "hero" or "whole" in relation to someone like Temma might sound ironic, but that is not my intention. My experience of her is that, in her persistence she is definitely "heroic" and there is certainly a "wholeness" to her person and presence (albeit one that may take a long time and intimacy to discern). As such the title "Helt" is intended to put into question the distancing presumptions many people make when they see a "disabled" person: regarding them as inferior, someone to avoid or, at best, pity.
The red blanket may bring to mind a painting I did a few years ago titled Cardina. I was also thinking of how the red garment Jesus is wearing functions in El Greco's painting El Espolio.
I will be showing this and other works from this project as an exhibition at North Eastern Illinois University in Chicago August 24th-September 18th, 2015. On Wednesday, September 16th, 12pm I will be doing an artist talk in the gallery. And there will be a closing reception on Friday, September 18th, 6-9pm.
This is an edit of a wonderful photo posted recently by Rich Levine. Check out Rich's work here.
At one point I was doing this kind of editing work more frequently. You can see others in my processing parlor.
Just now seeing that the model for Rich's photograph was Krystal Marston.
I was able to make it out to Syracuse for the reception for the exhibition "The Poetry of Content: Five Representational Artists" at the Syracuse University Galleries in January and, more recently, for the panel discussion last Thursday. This is a photograph that my friend and fellow exhibition participant Joel Sheesley took of me with my drawing / painting "Culture of Adoration" in the exhibition.
Here is a review of the exhibition by Arthur Whitman
Between Here and There , Tim Lowly © 1988, tempera on panel, 24" x 35". Private collection.
If you click on that + above you will able to see the painting at an extremely close vantage point.
Tempera (or, to be more precise, egg/ oil emulsion tempera) generally requires a very methodical approach. Tempera is very delicate; it can't be fussed with: previous layers will come off if you try to push the paint around like oil. The paint is applied in small strokes. In this painting that paint application is most evidently meaningful on the wall. Essentially the paint strokes have a sweeping wave-like movement on the wall. While I don't paint this way now I am no less interested in how a painting's making carries meaning.
This is a detail of a painting I am currently work on titled Nachtwacht. It is part of the re. Rainbow Girl project that has been occupying me for the last year or more. I'll say more about this piece when it is finished, but for the time being I'll just say that the title makes for a rather specific art historical reference.
This extraordinary series of self-portraits made by Ivan Albright at the end of his life is currently on exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago. It is part of the exhibition Homegrown: The School of the Art Institute in the Permanent Collection.
This is an installation photograph of some of my work in the exhibition "The Poetry of Content: Five Representational Artists" which is now at the Kalamazoo Institute of Art in Michigan.
The paintings in the photograph above are, from the left:
Culture of Adoration, Dear in the Dark, Her Listening Eye,
From the press release about the exhibition: "In the landscape of contemporary practice, representational imagery has seemingly gone into hiding. With a few exceptions, imagery that incorporates a realistic visual space, modeled figures and natural surroundings is largely absent from the lexicon of art making. Over his more than forty years as a painter and professor at Syracuse University, internationally recognized artist and guest curator Jerome Witkin has championed representation and narrative in his work and his teaching. Poetry of Content is his examination and celebration of the work of five painters who share his interest in the subject: Bill Murphy, Robert Birmelin, Gillian Pederson-Krag, Joel Sheesley and Tim Lowly. Featuring over forty pieces of original artwork, this exhibition displays a variety of representational imagery as paintings, drawings, and prints."
The exhibition will be at the Kalamzoo Institute of Arts through February 19, 2017.
The photographer Eadweard Muybridge is known for his photographs documenting subjects in motion–often against a gridded backdrop. In making* this image I inadvertently stumbled into thinking about what is for me a rather interesting variant on Muybridge's practice. That is, what if (as is the case of these two photographs) the photographs document the movement of the camera / photographer in relation to a static subject. In the case of this image we see the same subject–an underpass–from two different vantage points. The photographs were taken from a moving train. The "subject" appears to have changed, but it actually has not changed: the change is in the location of the camera / photographer. Hmm.
* Beyond taking the photographs I combined them and overlaid the grid and book page / spread in photoshop.
Temma in front of one of Joel Sheesley's paintings at the exhibition "The Poetry of Content: Five Representational Artists" currently at the Kalamazoo Institute of Art in Michigan (through February 19).
with The Route
(In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites (Greek: Χάριτες) or "Graces" - goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility.)
Titled "AKUKO UWA" (“news from every source”) this exhibition features work by the six Art Faculty at North Park University: Kelly VanderBrug, Nnenna Okore, Maya Durham, Jordan Martins and Emily Lindskoog. In this photo are works by Kelly VanderBrug (on the left), Nnenna Okore (middle) and myself. The painting I am showing is still in it's under-painting stage. The exhibition is short, running 8.30 - 9.13. The reception is on Wednesday, September 6, 4 – 7 pm
This is a detail (mainly of dirt) in the foreground of the previously posted painting "Beacon ('Bless the bastard')"
A recent question regarding how I painted the dirt in this painting led me to thinking about the complex phenomena of a painting's surface. Tempera (to be precise, egg /oil emulsion in my case) is a very methodical technique that can lead to a kind of painted surface that speaks the phenomena of "control". In some ways it is fair to say that I taught myself how to paint with tempera, but I read everything I could find about the technique. The artist Robert Vickery wrote a book about tempera that included an explanation of how he would start painting a surface like dirt. He would use a sponge or spatter the paint and then work into that uncontrolled looking surface. By introducing that sort of chaotic start he was able to produce a surface that felt more natural. That said his paintings generally still ended up feeling pretty controlled: As did mine. Eventually (after sixteen years) I moved from tempera to matte acrylic which allowed me to use a similar fast build-up of (usually many) layers, but also employ reductive practices like sanding as a way of "losing control". Maybe this is all too obtuse, but I do think that how a painting is made is central to it's meaning.
Incidentally, I also recently added some text to the previously posted image of the entire painting: click here.
Much more about this painting here: Big Picture (check the comments section as well).
Much could be said about this painting (and if you click on the link above you will find plenty). One particularly important "fact" about this work is that I really did not make anything up. The baby keys hanging cryptically from the ceiling were really there. As was the craft paper rainbow on the wall behind Temma (leaning against the wall in the body cast she wore after a surgical procedure). Reality sure is strange.
One day when I was working on this painting in the gallery at North Park University a young boy walked into the gallery and exclaimed "It's like I'm there!" Exactly what I was hoping for.
This detail is the central section of a painting I made in 1987 titled Communicant. If you look through the folder of my paintings you will find relatively few that depict acts of violence. In those few, generally early paintings the intent was both critical and metaphorical. That is certainly the case with this painting which ironically references the Eucharist with the soldier drinking water tainted by the blood of his victims. The painting is intended as a critique of violence, drawing inspiration by paramilitary groups active in Central America (often with secret US support) in the 1980s. While I have little interest in making paintings like this now I can say that it was an unusual instance where the image came to me (mentally) pretty much completely formed. It is also exceptional (at least for me!) in that it ended up in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Occasionally I make paintings in pairs and that was the case with this one which has it's conceptual pairing with the (much less disturbing) painting Celebrant.
"Presente" 1989, tempera on wood, 14" X 10", wood, glass, stones, acrylic.
In this second iteration of thus installation the 99 stones were arranged in a coffin like box (under glass). The painting was inset into the lid of the box.
The painting references Giotto's "Lamentation", but the one being mourned is absent. In the portion on the top of the painting above a woman holds a lamb (alluding to the parable of the lost sheep) and a photograph of a young man (her son?).
In the '80s there were stories of gatherings in Central America of women whose sons and husbands had "disappeared" (most likely killed by militias). The men's names would be read and the women, holding a photo of their loved one would respond "Presente!" While preparing this project my sister Amy Grubbs Moore did research on people who had "disappeared" in such situations. The names of 99 of these people and the dates of their disappearance were written on the stones.
I'm really not sure of the efficacy of this kind of work, but I continue to be interested in art that moves us towards justice, love and engagement.
The initial presentation of this project looked like this: at Gwenda Jay Gallery