Above the Noise

Lately I have had passionate conversations at art events about feeding the hungry.  My work as a volunteer with a food bank has re-kindled my passion for the cause.

After working in a mission based ministry in North Carolina I understand the spiritual drive to feed the hungry and serve the poor.  By serving “the least of these” we are serving the Most High God.  By ignoring the poor and hungry we ignore Him.

Homelessness, hunger, and generational poverty are pervasive in the Pacific Northwest.  My artwork doesn't communicate anything about this.  What's up with that?

"Migrant Mother", 1936, Dorthea Lange; Collection of the Library of Congress

I’ve been working with geometry, algebra and trigonometry for several years.  It makes sense after 24 years in the cabinet making field.  

But there is a more excellent understanding.

The hexagons, hyperbolic paraboloids and octahedrons that have captivated my attention since 2013 are technical works with clean finishes.  Geometry is an idealized imagery that alludes to higher realities.  

These artworks refer to the peace of God.

Consider Elijah’s experience of the whirlwind, the earthquake and the fire.  Despite the tumult he found that the Lord was not in them.  It was the still small voice that was the Lords.  (1^st Kings 19:11-12)  

The disruption, chaos, and turmoil didn't contain the Lord.

We are moved emotionally by what we see and become swept up in our circumstance, our society.  Then we express ourselves out of the abundance of our heart:  anxious, angry, afraid.... 

Our circumstances can blind us to the ever present, all knowing, all powerful God.  We are reminded that those things which are seen are temporary and that the unseen things are eternal. (2nd Corinthians 4:15-18)

"Single Red", 2017, ©  James Thatcher

Clean lines, concise edges, and sequenced colors are an expression of faith and not the world’s noise.

Pine study based on the work of Scandinavian architect, Soren Korsgaard; © 2017

  

I’m keeping on.

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Mathematics as Abstract Text

Grids, octagons, X-Y-Z axes, coordinates, parabolas…mathematics are increasing these days in the studio.  Equations, formulas, letters and numbers have become part of the expression.  They accompany geometric shapes and represent an aesthetic relief.

"Let f = F", Gesso on Roofing Felt, 72" x 36", © 2015

In 1982 the third year faculty at the Corcoran College of Art + Design (Washington, DC) became aware of my job experience as a sign maker.  Since then there has been a push to incorporate text into my artwork.  I became very self-conscious about it…what to say?  In those days I took the sign influence into the direction of graffiti.

Washington, DC, Dupont Circle 1984  Photo Richard K. Thomas

As part of a retrospective exhibit in the early 2000’s I painted individual words in a frieze section of the gallery. The selection of words was rife with meaning and hanging my large scale abstract paintings below them created interesting contexts.  

Installation View, "Excerpts", Lees-McRae College, Banner Elk, NC  2007

But text was not integrated into the imagery.

My struggle was with words themselves.  They’re so descriptive that they guide viewers thinking, perception and meaning.  I've had no problem with this as far as titles go. But actually using them in the artwork has continued to make me feel self-conscious.  I’ve tried to use text as texture by burying them under layers of paint but without success.

Now it seems that the use of geometric shapes demands these equations to emphasize the depth of the subject. The math is specific without being literal.  It’s an abstract language.  

"Untitled Hypar", Gesso and graphite on primed matboard, © 2015 Collection Steve Nyland

As such, I enjoy incorporating it freely into these recent artworks.  Many formulas are too long to use but sections are fun to place into these compositions.  The complexity makes for rich content. 

Underpainting, Gesso on Roofing Felt, 2015  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FCVWpCgt1w

Using algebraic formulas touches on some difficult areas for me.  Algebra was incomprehensible when I was a high school freshman.  The basic concept of letters equaling “any number” was beyond me.  My dad taught math and science and worked with me to get a handle on it.  In spite of his tutoring it didn’t connect and was very frustrating!

I revisit these memories often as I continue this series of artwork.  It’s uncomfortable.   Algebra was my great academic melt down.  (Let’s not talk about Speech class.)  

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Rebellion Became an Embrace

For about 25 years I was a cabinet maker.   It’s a world of minute detail:  blueprints, trim, and tight spaces.  Add to that delicate finishes, matching color samples, and pristine installations in expensive homes.

Creating large scale abstract art was a way of taking a break from the fastidiousness of the trade.  Throwing, splashing, thrashing, and dripping fields of paint became a refuge from the demands of the industry. 

However, at the turn of the century circumstances led to a break from cabinet making, as I spent several seasons remodeling and finishing my parent’s home in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  

About five years later, my bride’s career in higher education took us to the mountains of North Carolina. I found myself back in the field of high end interior woodworking.  

A custom Maple entry door.

After several years of carpentry and drywall, I found myself poorly suited to the demands of cabinet making.  I’d lost my edge….

It took a few years to sharpen up. Those times were marked with frustration and dissatisfaction and eventually with the real estate collapse of 2008 I was laid off.  I’ve kept my tools but haven’t returned to cabinet making.

Deb’s career has gone forward and the opportunity to pursue my art career is in full flight.  I make this preamble to say that I don’t have much to rebel against any more:  times are good.

As such, the thrashing and running paint techniques of my large scale abstract art had become more of a habit than a reality.  Interestingly, now that the requirements of the field are removed I have discovered that the skills and orientation of my woodworking experience persist.

They have filtered back into my creative life.  

After being away for five years the clean lines and processes re-emerge.  I am not back in the shop polishing fine hardwoods, but I am drafting, laying down clean edges, building structures and enjoying the technical facility that decades of shop experience has instilled in me.  Yay!

The contrary days have passed.  These are quieter thoughtful times.  The means have changed, and the ends necessarily so.  What was rebellion has become an embrace. 

http://jtnwdc.wix.com/jamesthatcherarts

Studio Strategies--The Treadmill!

Consider this idea as you have started to gain momentum in the studio, or have a problem area in your current artwork.


Over the winter I got into the habit of using our treadmill in my studio.  What a great way to look at art!  With nothing else to distract, aesthetic issues get an in-depth viewing with plenty of time to consider, “What if…”


I saw an article on CBS Sunday Morning about incorporating treadmills into the office, with workstations outfitted for pacing.  They made the point that endorphins are released, increasing creative thinking.  I’ve definitely experienced this as I tread before my paintings.

I regularly have concerns about my abstract images.  What’s working, what isn’t; what’s the matter, why doesn’t it work?  Often I will put off decisions about that next step until I’ve had a chance to tread before the artwork.

Sometimes I am anxious as I enter my studio:  what needs doing, deadlines, or ordering my day.  The treadmill is a great way to sort it all out.  It’s perhaps counter intuitive, because I feel urgency about getting started.  But the exercise orders my thinking.  Inevitably, I end my workout knowing what to do and how to do it.

I go for 45 minutes at the beginning of my studio day.  I slowly build up to 3.5 mph at 6 degrees incline.  It takes about 20 minutes to get there; I hold it for 10 minutes, and then back off for the final 15 minutes.  Not a grueling pace, but it gets the job done.  Hydrate!

I’m considering including treadmills in exhibitions of my artwork.  I want to encourage viewers to regard my pieces more thoroughly.  It’s an accomplishment to get 30 seconds of serious consideration for a painting from exhibit attendees…how about 5 minutes from treading? 

5 minutes while looking at an artwork won’t release any endorphins, but that’s a significant increase in viewing time.  What if a treadmill was installed for every painting—or maybe every 2 or 3 pieces?  That would be a more practical arrangement as a number of artworks could be viewed per station.  What about groups of treadmills, so more than one viewer could participate at once? 


Would this encourage interaction between viewers?  Would people become self-conscious? 

The treadmill creates an interactive element, which is novel for a standard exhibition of paintings.  Perhaps this would create opportunities for different kinds of exhibits and venues?  Maybe the gym!

At any rate, if you’ve got the machine give it a try!  I’ve been surprised by the quality of viewing experience.  By the end of my session any aesthetic choices have been well considered.  I have utter confidence going forward.  I've weighed my options, visualized the results and resolved the situation...all before touching brush to canvas.

It’s a great approach to problem solving!  

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