Thursday, December 5, 2013
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Maira Kalman
This post is
part of an interview I did with the artist/illustrator Maira Kalman for Paulson
Bott Press in Berkeley. She is more comfortable with an assignment and a
deadline than the process that takes place at a fine art press like Paulson
Bott. But she used her skill of observation to gather a series of images that
work together in a kind of grand collage.
-By Kenneth Caldwell
What’s been the process of
determining what prints you are going forward with?
We took all
of these images and snippets and staticky things and put them together in one
sheet. And then we went from there to doing individual plates and then putting
them together and then separating. Back and forth.
How is printmaking different from
working at home? What does it feel like?
When you’re
alone in the studio, you have to make your decisions, for better or for worse.
Here, when there are people who can give you feedback, I find myself in a bit
of a fog, but not in a bad fog—in a very, very good fog.
So at home you don’t have
assistants?
No. I have
negative assistants. I have resistance. I’m just in my studio wandering around.
Does this have chin-collé on it
then? Is this a sheet of gampi?
Yes.
That’s a whole new thing then.
It’s a new effect, but it has luminosity.
Yes. I could
paint on this. And I tried drawing some. This paper drives me crazy with
happiness. I want like my whole life to be this.Whose idea was it to print on cloth?
I wanted to print on cloth because I do a lot of embroidery stuff. And I thought, okay, it’s cloth, and then we’ll draw, and maybe try some embroidery. But the embroidery that I’ve tried feels unnecessary.
 |
| Mostly, 2012 A portfolio of 27 sugarlift aquatints and hardground etchings printed on linen. Edition of 15 |
I love the use of the fabric.
For me that’s
part of the process—that we went to a nearby fabric store and saw what they had—and
they had wonderful things. Can you talk about some of these images you brought with you to use for reference?
This is an airplane. It’s like the early airplanes.
Like Kitty Hawk?
Exactly, but it may be upside down. I’m not sure. And this was a dancer from New York. I cut out a lot of photographs, so this is a woman that performed a few years ago. Half the time I don’t know where I cut out the images from anymore, but she’s a dancer, and this is also a dance troupe. So the movements of people making it through the day, both intentionally as dancers, and then just how we move around really fascinates me a lot. There’s a man behind her in the photo, holding his hands on her shoulders. But she’s a little bit awkward.
There’s a stiffness, yes.
I’m always
watching how people are walking, and following them and photographing how
people walk and really struggle—a lot of yearning to be okay, and dignity, and
being brave. Basically I think everybody’s very brave for getting up in the
morning and continuing through the day. Sometimes people walking, people
sitting and eating, are just heartbreaking. I love Diane Arbus when she went to
visit the people in the home and the Halloween images of those people. That’s
also a Lartigue, but the photo is of a woman looking up at this ball, and then
it became something else. It became a woman holding a stick. And then there is
the rollercoaster after Hurricane Sandy.
With these images, are you
drawing into the copper plate?
I’m always
drawing into the plate, either the hard ground or the sugar lift. It only took
me four days to remember those four words—hard ground, sugar lift.
And now you’ve got chin-collé and
gampi too!
It’s like a
nice poem.
I was going to ask you, does it
feel a little bit like poetry—these scattered images or fragments that you’re
tying together?
Yes. I think
that the problem is, putting the word “poetry” on it—it depends what kind of
mood you’re in: poetry can be a wonderful thing to say about something, and
then, as a critic once said about me, “unnecessarily poetic.”
It’s a very different poem here
in this arrangement than it might be in that arrangement.
Yes. I don’t
want to forget the idea of a sense of humor along with the yearning and the
sadness. There’s a lightness balancing the heaviness. And so poetry would imply
one thing, and then just saying “I don’t know” would be the other.
Have you worked with poets?
No. But a
lot of the things that I write or things in the books are poems. The dog says,
okay, I’m going to write a poem now. I’m going to close my eyes and think of three
things and then make a poem out of that. So there’s a lot of poetry and there’s
a lot of songwriting in the children’s books. But I am collaborating with
Gertrude Stein [in the set designs for the Mark Morris Dance Group’s production
of Stein’s opera Four
Saints in Three Acts]. So yes, I’m collaborating with a poet whom I
never met.
She won’t get in the way.
I hope that
if she were alive she’d go, “Great,” as opposed to, “Don’t you dare.”
Where did your idea of illustrating
Elements of Style come from?
I found a
copy of the book one summer and thought, “Oh my God, this is a crazy great
book, and I need to illustrate it.” It’s the randomness of each sentence. The
continuity comes from [Strunk and
White’s] wit and the vivid cinematic images that they use. You don’t have to
worry about a plot.
Do you want to come back to
Paulson Bott Press and make more prints?
Of course I
want to come back some time in the future when it all makes sense. I’ll go home
and I’ll be able to moan and go, ugh, what was I thinking, or what was I not
thinking? Really, it’s the beginning of a conversation.
You’ve been to Berkeley before?
I’ve been to
Berkeley some other times, and I spent time in San Francisco installing the
show at SFMOMA [about her late husband Tibor Kalman]. And then I came here to
this gallery, and I said, “This is an amazing space. I love being here.”
Have you been able to explore a
bit?
Well, I walk
from my bed-and-breakfast in the morning. It’s over a mile. But that’s
also the graph of the day—that sometimes you’re just sitting there like a
stunned animal, not knowing what’s going on. We are animals that sort of
freeze, and then—well I guess it’s like a possum, but a possum plays dead for
something else. But I feel like sometimes I’m an animal that all of a sudden is
dead. And then all of a sudden I come back to life.
So much of your work depends on
observation. What do you see on your walks?
One of the
things I did in Rome was go watch people pray, because I was trying to say, “What
exactly are you doing? What are you doing on your knees? What do you think is
going to happen here?” The intensity of people publically displaying their
emotions and their grief and their hope, it’s incredible. Plus in Naples there
were a lot of places where people are in confession and the priest is just
sitting up, kneeling opposite them, not in a little contained cubicle, just
open.
I think the concept of prayer is
so interesting, because it’s one idea that can’t be defined, because each
individual completely changes it.
The thing is
that if you’re in the formal construct of a church or a synagogue and you’re
praying to a deity, as opposed to praying for the strength to deal with
whatever tragedy might befall you, and you are looking for a deity to save you,
that feels delusional. I say “Oh my god” a thousand times a day.
Then I say, “But I don’t believe in God.” And i am really not sure
which statement is true.Thursday, August 15, 2013
Book/Shop
 |
In March, Erik took the keys to a quaint, 250-square-foot space in the thriving Temescal neighborhood in Oakland and set up the brick -and-mortar Book/Shop. In addition to acquiring books, he is amassing and designing several lines of merchandise related to reading: beautifully handcrafted canvas book bags detailed with fine Japanese leather, small portable bookshelves made from a variety of beautiful woods, (we bought five for the press and some for home too!), stackable bookshelf components, modernist furniture, art, and lighting.
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| The "Ballast" Bookbag Raregem Japan + Book/Shop |
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| Erik Heywood |
Erik’s enthusiasm about our gallery program spurred us to collaborate. He is currently featuring five of our new Maira Kalman prints on the north wall of Book/Shop, and he has invited Maira Kalman to curate a pop-up bookshelf at the press in late September. (We will keep you posted about the date.) I hope you take the time to visit Erik’s shop. His attention to fine detail is truly extraordinary.
BOOK/SHOP 482D 49th Street, Oakland, CA, 94709. Tues.-Sat. 12-5. 510-907-9649
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Martin Puryear
By Rhea Fontaine
I can remember years ago, when I first interviewed for the position at Paulson Bott, my friend and former colleague, Sherry Apostol encouraged me by stating, “What a great place, Rhea. You have got to work for them; they work with Martin Puryear!”
Before I had met Martin in person, another colleague compared the experience of his company with that of being in the presence of the Dali Lama. When I met Martin in 2002, I realized that she was right. His grace is remarkable. In his company, one knows they are in the presence of greatness. Martin is very soft spoken, but when he speaks, people listen.
We also listen to his art-- the vibrations, the emotions
released from his sculptures.
They speak of the natural world, the human spirit and world history. They nod at, bow to and break down our notions of the object. Like Martin, they are quiet, magical and sublime.
It is my greatest pleasure as Gallery Director at Paulson
Bott, to introduce his work to those who have yet to discover it. I often resist my temptation to scream, “What?
You don’t know who Martin Puryear is?!” “Haven’t
you heard, the critic Robert Hughes has only declared him to be ‘America’s Best
Artist’!”
I can remember years ago, when I first interviewed for the position at Paulson Bott, my friend and former colleague, Sherry Apostol encouraged me by stating, “What a great place, Rhea. You have got to work for them; they work with Martin Puryear!”
Before I had met Martin in person, another colleague compared the experience of his company with that of being in the presence of the Dali Lama. When I met Martin in 2002, I realized that she was right. His grace is remarkable. In his company, one knows they are in the presence of greatness. Martin is very soft spoken, but when he speaks, people listen.
 |
| Martin Puryear, Reliquary, 1980, Gessoed pine; Martin Puryear, Self, 1978, Stained and painted red cedar and mahogany. Photo Courtesy the New Museum |
They speak of the natural world, the human spirit and world history. They nod at, bow to and break down our notions of the object. Like Martin, they are quiet, magical and sublime.
Martin employs wood, mesh, stone and metal to create forms
that resist identification. They evoke
the future and the past, both forging ahead and leaning back. They excite and provoke and comfort.
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| Martin Puryear, North Cove Pylons, 1992-5, Granite and stainless steel |
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| Martin Puryear, This Mortal Coil, 1998-99 Red cedar, stainless steel cable, aluminum, and muslin |
Martin’s first comprehensive show in the California bay area
was in 2001 at the Berkeley Art Museum. Sadly,
it’s opening day was September 11th and many missed the exhibit for
obvious reasons. Slight redemption took place
in the fall of 2008 when his retrospective,
Martin Puryear, traveled to the
SFMOMA. It was an exciting chance for
the bay to experience his impressive oeuvre. I remember speaking with a friend who had
just seen the show, and she stated, “I’ve always admired the images I’ve seen
of his work but standing next to the sculpture in person literally gave me
goose bumps.”
After the opening, the SFMOMA hosted a spectacular dinner at
the St. Regis to honor Martin. Neal
Benezra spoke to the group and expressed how fortunate we all were to be sharing
such a momentous occasion with an artist of his caliber. It is indeed our privilege at Paulson Bott Press
to engage with an artist that we know will mark our time and leave a lasting
legacy in the art world and beyond.
 |
| Martin Puryear, Phrygian, 2012 Color Aquatint Etching; Published by Paulson Bott Press |
Friday, June 28, 2013
About Time
I applaud the Supreme Court’s decision to
strike down the Defense of Marriage Act. This was discrimination enshrined in
law. It treated loving, committed gay and lesbian couples as a separate and
lesser class of people. The Supreme Court has righted that wrong, and our
country is better off for it. We are a people who declared that we are all
created equal—and the love we commit to one another must be equal as well.
—Barack Obama
+and+woman+together.jpg) |
| Kerry James Marshall, Untitled (Handsome Young Man, Woman), 2010 |
Wednesday’s ruling is a step forward
for civil rights and civil liberties. The Supreme Court struck down the Defense
of Marriage Act (DOMA) as unconstitutional, in contrast to Tuesday’s ruling,
which took voting rights a step backward. We have come a long way on many
fronts, but we still have a long way to go towards real equality.
Kerry James Marshall has focused his career on achieving real equality in the art world. "In the Tower: Kerry James Marshall" goes on display Friday at the National Gallery of Art's Tower Gallery and is Marshall's first solo exhibition in Washington, D.C. This is the first time that the National Gallery has curated and exhibited the work of a living African-American artist.
In a conversation with NGA curator James
Meyer, published recently in the Huffington
Post, Marshall describes the importance of the show:Kerry James Marshall has focused his career on achieving real equality in the art world. "In the Tower: Kerry James Marshall" goes on display Friday at the National Gallery of Art's Tower Gallery and is Marshall's first solo exhibition in Washington, D.C. This is the first time that the National Gallery has curated and exhibited the work of a living African-American artist.
When you walk through
the museum you don't have a sense that the variety of different people who made
up the nation as a whole have many any real meaningful contributions to the
development of this country in the ways that people talk about its greatness. And
I think to finally start to bring into a place like the National Gallery
somebody who does work like mine that is not always celebratory of American
ideals, that has an ambivalent and at times critical relationship to the
overall story, to finally start to allow that work to be seen and those
narratives to be articulated, starts to fulfill the promises that the idea of
the country and the founding documents set out to guide us.
Today, 50 years after the
civil rights movement’s heyday, we are at a tipping point. I hope today’s DOMA
ruling and Marshall’s exhibition at the National Gallery of Art indicate that
we are tipping in the right direction.
 |
| Kerry James Marshall, Bang, 1994 |
Friday, June 14, 2013
Collector Profile: Ross Evangelista
By Renee Bott
 |
| Ross Evangelista in front of painting by Gerben Mulder; Tauba Auerbach, 50/50 Random (Fine) , Tauba Auerbach, 50/50 Random (Coarse) |
When I was in New York
earlier this spring I had the good fortune of being invited to our client Ross
Evangelista’s house for lunch. Since finishing graduate school at Fordham, Ross
has been working in the financial services industry. Mike, Ross’s partner,
enjoys moderate doses of art viewing and gives Ross plenty of latitude when it
comes to collecting. I was curious to see Ross’s collection, and I never turn
down an offer for a home-cooked lunch. Mike commandeered the kitchen while I
spoke with Ross about his relatively new obsession: collecting art.
Renee: Can you repeat what you were saying to
me earlier about collecting art?
Ross: There’s a tendency for collectors
to be obsessive. There’s something about collecting and obsession that are
related to one another. Collectors end up getting more than their walls are
capable of taking. Mike is laughing because he doesn’t think that’s healthy.
Mike: We’ve actually had discussions about
whether putting paintings on the ceiling was an option. Or could they go behind
the doors? That one little bit of wall space there…that I have...that has the
Buddhas on it…how about if we just wall-board that? That would actually then
give him more space. Limited wall space is a challenge—he can have two or three
pictures propped up against the walls. I make him shift them about.
Ross: So whether or not it’s true for
every collector, I don’t know, but I’ve spoken to a few collectors, and they
say, “Yeah, it’s kind of a disease.” Gallerists are always saying not to sell
anyone, especially the young artists.
 |
| Richard Misrach, Untitled #213-04 |
Renee: Don’t sell them?
Ross: Don’t sell them. Don’t put them at
auction. So what is our option? Basically, accumulate. I have spoken to some collectors
who say that they do sell some works, and they put others in storage. We don’t
have the luxury of storage, and I’d rather live with my pieces. What happens is
it all gets to be more fun. Somehow, they find their place somewhere.
Renee: What about the idea of curating your
collection? I have a friend who’s an obsessive collector. He decided to build a
closet to store his extra work. He curates his own shows! Every month or two,
he pulls out a new set of work and rehangs his apartment.
Ross: Wow. Does he do it himself, or
does he have people helping him?
Renee: He does a lot of it himself.
Mike: Thank you for that great
suggestion. (Sarcastic laughter) I like that idea a lot!
Ross: I’ve considered that also. That’s
sort of what we do, especially when we get new pieces. We want to live with
them, so when a new piece comes in, we often have to move others around. Really
it’s a function of size and space—like the Auerbach prints that I got from you
that are in our Long Island house instead of our apartment, because there’s
more wall space out there.I’ve considered
curating, but you have to rehang and repaint the walls. I sold a print in the
bedroom, and I haven’t even filled the holes in yet! Plus, we are in desperate
need of better lighting.
 |
| Jessica Eaton, Cfaal 241; Tauba Auerbach, Plate Distortion I. |
Renee: When did your art passion begin? Is this something you’ve been doing for a long time? Or is this something that started recently?
Ross: It started about six, seven years
ago. I’ve always been interested in art. I studied architecture, drawing, and studio
arts in college, but never had the income to buy art. I moved around a lot
before that. I lived in Connecticut, the Philippines, Germany, so acquiring art
never occurred to me, since I lived out of two suitcases for a long time,
because you’re only allowed two suitcases on international flights.
 |
|
I think what eventually triggered my interest in collecting was getting exposed to online art blogs such as Modern Art Obsession and Artmostfierce as examples, which are (were, in the case of MAO) run by long-time collectors. Both of them featured “Buys of the Month,” which would feature prints by respectable artists at reasonable prices. Phillips de Pury & Company was also around the corner on 18th Street. We would sometimes go and look there, realizing full well that I couldn’t afford to buy at the time.
Back then, Jennifer Beckman had started something called 20X200. I started out buying from 20x200. I must have 20 or so prints from Jen. Afterwards, I started purchasing limited edition prints from Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Photography. I also have a few limited-edition Aperture and AIDS Community Research Initiative of America photos (ACRIA) too. We try to go to galleries every week. When we travel, seeing art is definitely part of our agenda, which Mike doesn’t always like. You like seeing art, right?
 |
| Nicole Eisenman, Untitled; Julian Lorber, Untitled |
Mike: In moderation.
Ross: In moderation, yeah. For me, the
key to getting into collecting was understanding that art is accessible. I let
go of my fear of asking gallerists questions. I was trying to understand what
artists do. I think a lot of people are afraid of art collecting because
they’re afraid of asking questions. They’re afraid of not “getting it.” Of not
knowing. My real collecting started after I got over that hump.
Renee: Do you remember the first piece you
bought from a gallery?
 |
| Sarah Pickering, Abduction Sarah Pcikering, Fuel Air Explosion |
Ross: Sure. This is actually the first piece. (Sarah Pickering: Fuel Air Explosion). It’s part of her Explosion series. That’s my first real print from a gallery, from Daniel Cooney Fine Art. He’s a great gallerist, by the way. This is also Sarah Pickering. (Sarah Pickering: Abduction)
Renee: I love that one.
Ross: It’s awesome right? I had that framed at Bark Frameworks since
it’s so special to me. New York Magazine
featured them as the “best” framer in NYC. I didn’t know then how dear “best”
framing is!
Renee: Tell me a little bit more about her.
Ross: As I understood it, her body of
work then had a lot to do with keeping public order. She is from the UK, and a
number of her series depict training grounds for policemen, firefighters, and
investigators. In her photographs, you see what looks like a real street and
real houses, but they’re fake. They are training sets. She worked with public
officials to accomplish this. She’s a bit of a pyro, right?
Renee: Yes.
Ross: This is called Abduction. For this piece, she worked with
the fire department. They would create a whole room and set it on fire to train
firefighters how to look for a fire, how to fight them. They would leave clues.
If you look closely, there’s a gun on the couch. It’s a very active piece. Even
the explosion is a bit narrative. You ask, “How did this happen? Why is there
an explosion? Is this a war zone?” You don’t know because they are so well
composed.
Renee: It’s stunning!
Ross: From there, the floodgates opened.
I finished grad school around 2005. I didn’t have much money. I still save up
and try to look for good value and for what is interesting to me. Tauba
Auerbach’s 50/50 prints were probably my next large purchase. I can’t
remember if I bought all three at the same time, but I have three.
 |
| Sara Vanderbeek, Treme School Window, Baltimore Window |
Renee: I think you did. You have the Zoom In Zoom Out. It’s fabulous! Mike
said that you’re reading all the time, educating yourself. Do you find that you
want to get informed after walking into a show and being intrigued by what you
see? Or are you doing research first and then seeking out the artists that you
read about?
Ross: I think both. I am definitely very
research-driven in terms of what I look at. Even though I can’t add something
to the collection, I still read about it. I’d even include it on my blog, which
is a repository of works I own and works that I’d love to own. I have a lot of
art books. I’m not sure about the real purpose, I just like doing research.
Otherwise you are just a buyer. I don’t want to be just a shopper or a
decorator. I want to be informed about what I’m collecting.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Asking Questions
By Renee Bott
 |
| John Cage 1987 surrounded by charts of random numbers. |
When Tauba Auerbach came to work with us at the end of 2012,
I found myself thinking often about the composer and artist John Cage. I was
fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with Cage in the late 1980s at
Crown Point Press. Cage used a method of composing using the I Ching to facilitate “chance
operations” to make his art. He believed that his responsibility was to ask
questions rather than make choices.
 |
| Marsha Bartholomy works with John Cage at Crown Point Press 1987 |
Cage would sit down at one of the large artist tables in the
studio to compose, pencil in hand, predetermined materials selected,
questions queried. During this process, he would consult one of the numerous
charts of random numbers that he travelled with. Silence would descend on the
studio while he worked, and graceful handwritten lists of lilted numbers
written in graphite resulted. His number compositions functioned as a list of
instructions. The directives were performed, resulting in a John Cage print. As
with Cage, Auerbach’s process poses questions, but in her case, it is her intuition
that informs her decisions, not the I Ching.
 |
| Tauba Auerbach prints in the Paulson Bott Press studio: Mesh/Morie 1-VI, 2013. Printer Maggie McManus curates prints. |
Kenneth Caldwell aptly describes her relationship to chance
and her creative process: “Nothing seems placed by accident, and yet chance
continues to play a significant role in the artist’s work. A lot of Auerbach’s
art is about the tension between an almost total control over what goes into a
process and an absence of control about the result that emerges from that
process. She explores her system and process thoroughly, with thought and
experimentation, and then when she’s ready, she lets go.”
While making the Mesh/Moire
series, Auerbach created seven subtly different softground plates. A visual
difference between any of these plates is imperceptible to the eye, and it
wasn’t until two of these plates were printed together that a moiré pattern
emerged.
 |
| Tauba Auerbach, Mesh/Moire IV, 2013 |
Printing combinations of two of the seven plates together
yielded 42 possible permutations. Of those, she found six moirés pleasing.
Auerbach’s meticulous adherence to her idea and the chance involved in the
making of these plates is what reminded me so much of Cage. Both artists were
charming and lovely to work with, and it has been a privilege to have been
involved with their process. The strength of these two artists lies in their
ability to turn inquiries into stunning visual results.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
On the Road to Thornton Dial
 |
| Thornton Dial: Lost Cows, 2001 |
Earlier this spring I took a trip with my daughter
Isabelle and our friend Matt Arnett to visit
Thornton Dial’s exhibition at the High Museum in Atlanta
and see his studio in Alabama. Dial’s incredible works were showcased in the exhibition Hard Truths/ The Art of Thornton Dial. The exhibition, which originated at the Indianapolis Museum
of Art surveys twenty years of Dial’s paintings, sculptures, and drawings. The work emphasizes the strength and compassion that Dial brings to each idea. The survey brings up the difficult question of
why Dial’s work has not been given the respect and notoriety it is due until now.
Race, education, and class have all played a factor in the denial of Dial’s admission into the
contemporary art canon. The exhibition is a resplendent manifestation of a powerful discourse on
the human condition from a vantage point rarely celebrated. |
| Thornton Dial: Ladies Will Stand by Their Tiger, 1991 Isabelle at the High Museum with Dial drawing. |
 |
| Looking into Dial's studio, 2013. |
The warehouse, built by Dial’s sons, is the home of their steel patio furniture business, Dial
Metal Patterns. What was once a thriving industry has now slowed, devastated by the steep
and prolonged rise of steel prices. Dial and his sons have worked in the metal industry most
of their lives. Machines for bending, cutting, and painting , once used in the production of patio furniture now slumber. Dial’s sons Richard and Donnie explained to me during my visit that not only had they built one of the metal bending machines after seeing one in another metal shop, but they had also constructed the entire warehouse itself, having had no experience with constructing large buildings. Creativity and ingenuity run in the Dial family.
 |
| Thornton Dial: Construction of the Victory, 1997 (Detail) |
 |
| Joe Minter's yard, 2013. |
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| Joe Minter's Sandy Hook tribute, 2013 |
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| Dial's early studio. |
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| Homemade soda can bricks line the driveway at Dial's former home. |
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