Holiday Exhibition at Maryland Art Place

I was invited to exhibit my photography at the 10th Annual Benefit Exhibition at Maryland Art Place (MAP) in Baltimore and I couldn't be happier. Let me break it down.

Back in April I became a member of MAP. My $30 fee was a modest way to show support for the arts. Basically, I had intentions to submit my work to MAP for open calls and such, so I thought it would be good karma to throw them some love up front. In July, my $30 membership gifted me a thank you letter from the Executive Director which said, "Later this year we will be celebrating our 10th annual benefit exhibition. We would love to see you there!" I thought that was so sweet. But did she mean as a patron or an artist? Either way, I had work to do. 

My priorities were thus: 1) Wake up and drink very fresh, dark roast coffee, 2) Honor my friendship with Dee, 3) Take pictures of Baltimore.

Pretty simple plan. I also wanted to be on the lookout for any emails from MAP in regards to what they were up to and announcements for open calls. I noticed MAP was marketing their public art program, IMPACT, at the Hotel Indigo, which at the time was a solo show for a local painter. I put it on my to-do list—take a field trip to the Indigo. I eventually visited the hotel, which is conveniently located in the heart of Mount Vernon, and was jazzed by the venue, which was originally a YMCA back in 1907. The high ceilings were impressive, the retro furniture was chill and the cozy fireplace was a nice touch. I studied the paintings on display, but I also imagined having a photography show in the space, which would require larger prints than I was currently producing, and it would take approximately 12 frames to fill the room. I calculated the production cost at $3,400, which means I'd have to sell every photo, priced at $500, just to break even, which assumes a 50/50 split with MAP. I took one more look around the lounge and laughed out loud. Every photo. Hilarious. I’d be lucky if I sold one. But I wasn’t bumming, in fact, I felt motivated as I leaped down the Hotel Indigo stairs and headed uptown. 

Weeks passed without seeing an open call I could sink my teeth into, but I noticed MAP was hosting an MFA exhibition, which sounded like a perfect opportunity to check out their gallery, which I did. The space was classic, with the wood floors and that Soho loft feel; I loved it and felt my work would play nicely with their smooth white walls. At this point I was convinced my $30 membership was starting to pay off, but I would continue to scroll the MAP newsletters for future opportunities.

In September, while savoring my morning Sumatra and posting the daily gram, I read that MAP was seeking submissions for their inaugural exhibition at Zeke’s Coffee, which was a new addition to there public art program, IMPACT. I was interested; and ended up submitting my work. I wrote about it here. While at the opening reception at Zeke’s, I met the Executive Director of MAP and told her I appreciated the letter she sent me in response to my new membership. We got to talking a bit and I learned that the Zeke’s show had a three tiered vetting process which included herself, the program manager and a 12 person advisory committee. Well alright. The Zeke’s show runs through January 11th.

On October, 20th, I received an email from MAP that said their Program Advisory Committee had invited me to submit my work for their 10th Annual Benefit Exhibition. This was uplifting news. I was honored to submit the following three photos: My Chariot Awaits (2022), I Used to Be Super Lonely (2019) and The Trending Appeal of Corrugated Steel (2022).

***

The benefit exhibition runs for two days only: December 9th (Fri) & 10th (Sat). It’s a unique holiday event where each piece of art can be purchased, taken off the wall, and wrapped while you chill; which means, it’s more like a craft show than a typical exhibition where you can’t take your art home until the exhibition ends. 

On Friday the entry fee is $25 and includes an open bar, a DJ, drag queens as your hosts, and a cookies and ice cream sandwich truck. Naturally, you are encouraged to wear your most festive holiday sweater. Friday runs from 6pm-10pm. There is free parking in the Arrow garage across the street. 

Saturday the admission is free (because a portion of the art is sold by then and the drag queens and cookies are long gone) and runs from 12pm-4pm.

***

Ok, for sure, my $30 membership has definitely paid off. And I’d still be lucky if one of my photos sold; but I’m not bumming, because I will be attending the show as a grateful patron and a humbled artist. 

The best of both worlds.

⌘

Don't Think

Yes, and: the basic philosophy of the Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB).

UCB is an improv and sketch comedy group that eventually morphed into a theatre and training center. I learned about UCB when I lived in NYC and went to a bunch of their shows in Chelsea and the East Village. I was bummed when they shuttered their NY presence in 2020 but happy to know they still have a home in Los Angeles. Although I moved to NYC in 1995 I didn't learn about UCB until 2013 which is when I met Elle who was taking a series of classes at UCB and subsequently became a member of an NYC improv troupe called, "Ski Legend." I went to all of their gigs and started to delight in the art of improv. 

Yes, and. An improv scene usually starts with someone in the group making a statement about something to another person in the group. The other person agrees with what they heard (yes) and then adds another detail (and). 

View fullsize

The front of Elle’s t-shirt which she purchased at the UCB in Chelsea, NYC

When Elle and I took a trip to London in 2015 we treated ourselves to an improv show called "Austentatious" which is an improvised Jane Austen novel. London is brilliant. We spent five days based out of the Ace Hotel in Shoreditch and packed in as much as we could: the London Eye, a spot of tea, the Tate Modern, the National Portrait Gallery, fish and chips, the Soho Theatre. We walked everywhere and thought London would be wicked if we knew somebody that lived there, an artist perhaps, someone that showed us London on the cheap, nothing too fancy, maybe a trip beyond the perimeter, a tad more intimate.

These are the dreams of adventure.

In the meantime, Baltimore is as good as anywhere to embrace intimacy, which is basically what improv is all about. Yes, and—positively support your partner, keep the scene moving forward, and don’t think too much, just go with the flow. Trust. Improv partners are everywhere; we just have to recognize when a scene begins.

I received a message from a friend the other day inviting me to submit one of my photos for a collective photography exhibition called “I Don’t Know What You See” hosted by the artist IMPREINT and featuring 28 artists from around the world. This was the beginning of the scene. I said yes, and sent them Diesel. 

The exhibition will be on Saturday, 15 October from 15:00-23:00 BST at the IMPREINT Space—in London. 

It’s smashing to be back. 

View fullsize

The back of Elle’s t-shirt which she purchased at the UCB in Chelsea, NYC (sequined heart added by Elle)

⌘

Welcome to Opening Night of My Virtual Photography Exhibition

This is an intimate and suggestive reading. Let's begin.

Happy Friday! OMG, what a week, time to lay it way back. As you rub your hands together you visualize the evening. It's yabba-dabba-doo and the glow of summer is lustful and tempting. Thanks to the office pizza party, your belly is full, but you could definitely use a frosty beverage. Luckily your apartment is just a few blocks away. You pause and sigh after opening your front door. The perfect AC hits a sweet spot. This is why you live downtown. This is the yin to your breakback j-o-b. What a pad! You imagine a crisp IPA as you close the door behind you while trying to remember where, you put, the one-hitter. Ahh, there it is! A long slow puff chased by a deep chug of lemony citrus and your stress is adios. You toss on a stingy brim, check yourself, then Savion Glover down the front stoop. Just enough time to catch the last bits of Manhattanhenge as you smooth-it to Chelsea. You remember a nice write-up in the Art Forum about the minimalist photographer, MCHL WGGNS, reviewing the new series "Is It OK if I Come Over?" as oddly sensual in its simplicity. You feel a tingle as you watch the club kids smoking cloves in front of the gallery while slow bumping to muffled dubstyle. One of the dancers says, "Free chardonnay inside," and points to the beaded curtain. The salon is spacious and completely black save a few purple and green bulbs that hang from crocheted extension cords. Along the walls are eleven softly lit 40 x 60” photographs. Each image is printed on snowy white metal and displayed inside cherry heartwood floater frames. Someone hands you a pint glass of wine and says, "Thanks for coming, I'm dying to know what you think," and disappears. Was that? Your cup is perfectly chilled with hints of plum and vanilla. The room is misty from a palo santo cleanse. Along the walls are yoga mats and zafu cushions. The room is buzzing with jive, downward dogs and art shmooze. A stranger gently brushes up against your arm and giggles as they pass. You happily raise your chalice in return. Cheers. Your eye is drawn to I Used To Be Super Lonely a meditative image of a swirling mandala with an offering of soggy cigs at the core. $1,500. A red dot sits just below the frame. A companion book describes the show as minimalist photography and everlasting bliss. $75 in the gift shop. A playful couple whispers in both of your ears. On the left you hear, "We just bought, Do You Want to Talk About It?” On your right, "We're hanging it in our bedroom." You watch them sally to center stage and shimmy like Travolta. One of the club kids refreshes your tumbler and says, "I Love You," as they gesture towards a photograph on the other side of the room. When you approach, a small posse is gathered in front of the image and holding hands. They smile and gush, "That was the last exhibit in Roanoke. So rad. We danced until 4am." Then they scream, "Everlasting bliss!" and run to the next tableau.

I could go on-and-on of course but I think we'll stop there. I hope you enjoyed the show. As it turned out it was a fortuitous night for MCHL WGGNS. Every photograph sold! But thankfully there were plenty of books on hand for the darlings that wanted a keepsake. And a few limited edition copies are still available! **

Click here if you're curious.

** Sold out

⌘

New Canvas

On September 21st the Bower Center for the Arts in Bedford, VA invited me to have a solo video exhibition in their Sara Braaten Gallery. The space was built in 1843 as the St. John's Episcopal Church. The ceilings are pressed tin and 16 feet high. The gallery is 1,400 sq ft and can accommodate 100 people. There are 6 antique pews in the balcony. Four days later I accepted the invitation.

My first interaction with the Bower was back in May. Two of my photos were chosen for their National Juried Art Exhibition. The photos were displayed in the Terrace Gallery which is located on the first floor just below the Sara Braaten. My second collaboration with the Bower was a video installation and it also displayed in the Terrace. Perpetual Tea, or, Preparing Our Minds for Anything was the first video art to be exhibited at the Bower and was awarded Best in Show.

It is fair to say the Bower Center has been very kind to me. My two experiences with the Bower have been life changing in regards to the evolution of my art. I am a visual artist without limits. This is how I feel. So what was I going to do with my new canvas and how could it be something I could really sink my teeth into? The show is not until August, 2019 but having spent decades working in the film industry I felt like I was already behind the 8-ball. Tick-tock, tick-tock. I needed to have a plan. This was going to take some time.

The first thing I decided was to turn my solo show into an invitational group show. Yes, I committed to this idea and started inviting local friends to join me. But I really needed a concept first. What was I inviting them to participate in? I came up with a title, The Home Within A House. I would build a house on the gallery floor and my video would play on a loop inside the shack. Ok fine, moving forward. But did I mention that the Bower Center rents the gallery to the Bedford Lutheran Church every Sunday? It's a fact. I met the Lutheran congregation a couple weeks ago. I took communion, I sang a half-dozen hymns, I cried a bit when they said a prayer for the dead and then I pitched them my idea while nibbling on banana bread and crudités. I invited them to join the show. They are interested. I told them the house would be permanent for one month. Can't move it. We have not sealed the deal yet. I'll take communion again on October 21st and I'll ask for their official blessing. Wish me luck.

I really like the idea of shooting more video. Perpetual Tea, or, Preparing Our Minds for Anything was 15 one-minute meditation videos. Each video was a static, single take. So obviously my next video needs to be different. It's going to be a documentary. It's settled. The subject will be my collaborators, fellow artists in their home talking to me about art and feelings. And their art will live with mine in the gallery. We'll be together.

Ok, so that's enough for now. I'll spend the rest of this week visualizing positive vibes with the Lutherans. I'll put some tape on the gallery floor to give them an idea where the house will be built. I will imagine shaking the hands of my new collaborators, comrades-in-arms, musicians, painters, interior designers, illustrators, photographers, sculptors & poets. And I will wonder if any of my friends are handy with a hammer and a 2x4.

We got to build this house.

⌘

Perpetual Tea, or, Preparing Our Minds for Anything

When I graduated from college I was a mess. I left UC San Diego with a degree in visual arts and moved in with mom. She lived in Los Angeles. Slowly but surely I stopped rolling cigarettes and the craving for hallucinogens and speed eventually faded. I found work as a security guard but I spent the graveyard shift smoking reefer and sipping pints. Long cold nights in the VW Rabbit, writing big ideas on a tiny notepad, patrolling the scene with only a Maglite 5D for protection. Mom almost bought a Dobermann to keep me company. She was worried. Got a battery powered black and white TV instead. Crap reception mostly. So I would reread what I wrote. Here's an actual note-to-self from 1986:

Character 1 - "Yes, I made dinner. It's chicken. I hope you like chicken."
Character 2 - "Chicken. I like chicken. Chicken is good.”
(Montage of chicken bones with small amounts of moist meat still hanging on. As you see the image of the chicken bones we hear ...)
Character 1 - "You like chicken? Shit, you'd kill for chicken."

So yeah. Thankfully mom's landlord knew a guy that worked in Hollywood. I got the job as a set PA on “Kids Incorporated” and writing copy for the music video show “Night Tracks.” Mom was less worried now and she moved out of Los Angeles and settled in a small town called Springville. By this time I was living in Silverlake with my good friend James. I kept up the PA work for awhile until I landed a job as an assistant production accountant on the “Father Dowling Mysteries” in 1990. I didn't see that coming. But then I worked on another show as an assistant and then another and then another and by 1995 I had moved to NYC to be the production accountant on “New York Undercover.” Oh my god, is this happening to me, will I ever be an artist? I was afraid of my fate. But then I worked on another show as the accountant and then another and then another and then it was 2016.

But let's back up for a second. I was lying in bed with my friend Kat staring at the ceiling. It was my last year in San Diego and we passed our time doing acid, smoking bowls and drinking beers. Kat asked me if I ever meditated. I gave her a long-winded no. But she got me curious. I consider that day lying in that bed with that woman in that city the beginning of my meditation training. When I eventually left San Diego I had a misty vision for myself. I was going to be a visual artist and meditation was destined to show me the way. 

I imagined my future every day I drove around LA delivering scripts and picking up lunch at Le Dome. I kept writing. A friend turned me on to the Siddha Yoga Meditation Center in Santa Monica. I participated in a huge group meditation session with Gurumayi at the Shrine Auditorium. I kept dreaming. I discovered “Lilias, Yoga and You” on PBS. She taught me yoga as I prepared for another day at the office processing accounts payable and auditing petty cash. I took photos. I bought a piano. I created soundtracks. I kept writing. I bought an HD video camera. I made simple movies. I learned how to process payroll, prepare a budget, apply for a tax credit. I kept writing. I was meditating 12 hours a day now. I slept the rest. When someone didn't get their check on time I was meditating. When I grossly miscalculated a production overage I was meditating. And when I say meditating I don't mean smoking weed. I was really meditating. Definitely jacked up on coffee but breathing deeply and moving forward, solving problems, being mindful. I got frustrated. I hated everybody. But I loved everyone. I learned how to paint with oils. I shared my art on social medias. I'd work until 2am perfecting cost reports. I sexted. I stopped eating chicken. I kept making art. And then it was 2016.

When I moved to Lynchburg with my partner Dee I relied on meditation to say goodbye to a city I cherished for two decades, to acknowledge a profession I depended on for 25 years, to rent a truck, to pack a hundred boxes, to throw away a heap of useless and to drive to a town I basically knew nothing about. But our apartment on Main Street. What a dream. It was all the inspiration I needed (besides a thousand tiny kisses every day) to take another photo, to do another downward dog, to just be at the piano, to write, to believe.

When the Bower Center for the Arts offered me a blank wall to express myself I turned to a trusted friend. A companion that allowed me to appreciate the past. An awareness that gave me the courage to acknowledge my fears yet move forward. Meditation showed me the way. 

This is Perpetual Tea, or, Preparing Our Minds for Anything.

⌘

Sisterhood

This is how my hand woven photo looks in the Academy gallery. I really like how Dee and the intensely costumed girl to her left play off of each other. Dee is naked and vulnerable and making an effort to reach out, to connect. And the child, who is a bit imprisoned by her suffocating wardrobe, glances at Dee in a sympathetic and understanding way. These two have formed an immediate bond, a sisterhood, plotting a silent escape from the bondage of their picture frames.

⌘