GUY YANAI

Daivd Hockney is not Jewish, 2011,oil on linen, 165 x 165 cm

What are you working on in your studio right now?

Right now I’m working on seven works on linen. Two 165 x 165 cm, and five 100 x 100. The subject of the works does not really have anything to do with one another. One is called Tent City, one is a transcription, or what I like to call “re-mix” of a Piero della Francesca fresco, one is called Murder and just a bunch of marks with a plant of top of them, etc. I’m really just letting the works define themselves here. I’m after a big show here in Tel Aviv, so these are transitional works.

When I finish these I will be making three 200 x 250 works for a project called Allegory of the Daily Desperation of Indifference. One will be of my shrink’s clinic, one of my local post office, and one of my living room as seen from the outside.

Adoration of the wood, queen sheba in the studio

Can you describe your working routine?

I’m in the studio five days a week, at least ten hours every day. Every day I fight myself to begin to work. Beginning is always hard. Every morning the same story. I work in projects and groups of works. Its very rare that I’ll be working on one individual work. I just don’t think like that. Music and coffee help.

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

My studio is 80 meters in size. North light. Third and top floor in a building that now has allot of artists. Probably the worst neighborhood in Tel Aviv, but I love it. Yeah, the studio really affects my work. I’m always moving things around, the tables, the works, everything. Its never as organized as I would like, and sometimes it gets so messy and crazy that its insane. The studio is my savior.

 Installation of drawings from

"FIRST WE FEEL THEN WE FALL" exhibition,

Alon Segev gallery, Tel Aviv

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

My process begins with little sparks. Little things that really excite me. These come from walking down the street and seeing how a woman walks, seeing a few colors in a new relation, an image, a plant, a film, something from the internet, something sensual. Usually a feeling, rather than an idea. Then I start. I try to sustain that first spark, that first feeling of terror which was obsessed by some form of beauty, some form of gesture. In the beginning, I’m certain that the painting/s will take a week to do, and somehow that’s never the case. They get layered with opposing languages, images, and conceptions. And that begins another round of excitement. An excitement of how painting needs to have irreconcilable forces in it. The process is very difficult to describe, but usually when I finish a work/s I get sick for a few days. The end tears me apart.

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

Everything. Everything is in question. Size, format, orientation, forms, color, subject, thought, idea, formally executing the work... Everything gives me trouble and unease. In fact, when it gets easy, then I get depressed and start to worry. So in that respect its really a lose/lose situation. Every six months I feel like only now am I starting to make work that is really the work I want to be making, and then three months later, I look back, and have no idea how I did previous works. Just a few days ago I looked at a painting I did of a boat and had no idea how I did it.

Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

Mainly, I work oil on linen, or birch wood. I would like to do more sculpture, and by sculpture I mean painting on forms of birch wood. But, yes, mainly oil on linen. In the past two years I prefer square or just off square. The parameter is very important.

What does the future hold for this work?

The future holds more impossibilities. I always go back to this line by David Foster Wallace (speaking on Kafka) :  That the horrific struggle to establish a human self results in a self whose humanity is inseparable from that horrific struggle. That our endless and impossible journey home is in fact our home. Meaning, there is not going to be some point when, AHHHH, I’ve made it. It’s never going to be easy, nothing is ever going to be easy. My work will never really give me satisfaction. This is it.

This is not some empty trajectory to a ‘place’. This here is the place. All I want is to continue working, and to be able to keep all of these problems. And coffee and music (and a few other things) make it all a little easier.

Is there anything else you would like to add?

Not really, maybe later.

Bus in Italy, 2011, oil on linen, 190 x 190 cm

AMY MOFFAT

Untitled drawing, ink on paper, 2011

What are you working on in your studio right now?

At the minute I'm working on a series of sculptures. Sculpture is pretty new to me so I'm trying to figure out how materials work, mainly reclaimed wood, netting and latex for now. I am also doing a lot of drawing; for sculptures and also just to get things out of my head. Drawing has become a huge part of my practice over the last 18 months and I couldn't live without it now. I think everyone should draw, it allows for a free fall of imagery, shapes and marks to come out on to a page. I love drawings that I don't understand as over time I begin to realize their relevance; almost in a psycho-analytical way. I learn a lot about myself through drawing.

Can you describe your working routine?

As I said drawing is a big part of my practice. I draw when I don't know what to make, or what to do or don't feel like painting. My paintings and now sculptures usually begin with a drawing. I tend to work in black ink with water but have recently started incorporating three colours in to the drawings too. I would then begin paintings loosely based on a drawing or sometimes specifically based on a drawing. However I find painting in this way unsuccessful as I don't want to make paintings that are illustrations of drawings. It's only recently that I have begun to see the drawings as complete works in themselves. I think this is why the painting side of my practice has taken a back seat in recent months and the sculptural work has begun to emerge. There's still a lot for me to do with sculpture, there's a lot to figure out and negotiate and the piece evolves more in the making than it has done with my paintings. This is perhaps because of my limited sculptural skills! But also because the sculptural materials I'm using can be more unpredictable than paint, at least in my own experience.

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

I completed a year long residency a few months back at Kingsgate Workshops where I had a great space to work but unfortunately once my residency finished I had to find a new space. My new studio is too small and there is no natural light...quite depressing really! I feel like I need to move out as soon as I can. My sculptures are growing out of my space, everything is on top of one another. Perhaps this is another reason painting has stopped. When painting I feel I need an organised area where I know where to reach for a cadmium red if I need it, I like to paint quickly. At the minute the paints are all crammed on top of one another. I've started working on hanging sculptures, perhaps as a result of the space I don't know? All I know is that I need a bigger, lighter studio!

 (top) Projection, oil on wood, 2010

(below) I change shapes to hide in this place,oil on wood, 2010

from the Diary Series

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

The 'Diary Series', which is my most recent body of painting work, was important to me in discovering what it was that I really wanted to make and also what I needed to make. I used to work a lot from found imagery which gave me a starting point to make paintings but the neither the imagery nor the paintings really told me anything about myself; they didn't go beyond the boundaries of the frame. This is when I began using my own imagery, I tried to allow myself not to think and just draw...which is very difficult in today's hectic lifestyle, we are programmed to think with logic and reason and our unconscious isn't allowed much time to breath. It took a lot of practice to be able to just draw.

Certain motifs would re-occur and I found myself incorporating them in to different scenarios and the work had small narratives within them. At the minute I want to move away from creating any kind of narrative as such and rather allow a more primitive, uncontrolled process to take over. My aim is to draw and make without analysing it at all during the making process. I want to leave this until afterwards to prevent any decisions that are too consciously focused. I want to access the unconscious more and allow marks and shapes to appear and then figure out what it all means and its relevance after. I guess this leads to a more process based practice as I will be focusing on the materials whilst making; how I can make the wood fit together or hang in a certain way, how the ink and water react, how to get a particular surface finish etc

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

Painting is cruel! Painting is really hard for me at the minute and I'm trying to resolve it by not doing it! Perhaps the drawings and sculptural work will inform the paintings or allow me to think about making paintings in different ways...or maybe painting will take a back seat in my practice and I'll consider myself more multi-disciplinary?

Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

Well until the past few months I only really worked with oils, mainly on board. I was also doing the ink drawings which still continue and in fact have become a real focus of my practice; it's where the thinking happens, but like I said at the minute I'm working in sculpture so my main material at the minute is reclaimed wood.

What does the future hold for this work?

I have a solo show coming up in October at The China Shop gallery Oxford. I'm hoping to continue with the sculptural work to show in this exhibition but I also want to allow the drawings more focus. They have always been hidden in the studio for my eyes only but I would like to present them as finished pieces as they really are an integral part of my practice.

Is there anything else you would like to add?

Did I mention I like drawing? Draw more!

Untitled drawing, ink on paper, 2011

AMY FELDMAN

Irascible leftovers, 20 x 20", acrylic on canvas, 2011

What are you working on in your studio right now?

I am in the middle of stretching a 96” x 80” wedge shaped painting. At its top, the width of the painting is 1” from the wall and at its bottom the painting is 5” from the wall. Eventually, it will be hung a few inches from the floor or may even lean against the wall. I just made a few shaped paintings, mostly circles and ovals, and I like seeing them hung on the wall, but it’s also exciting to have them hanging out around the studio conversing with the rectangles. I am also making some drawings.

Can you describe your working routine?

I don’t really have a set routine but I am in the studio almost every day. I don’t always make something, but I feel like it’s important to check-in and look around. Before I make work, I generally like to have a coffee and variety of snacks on hand.

studio views

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

My studio is in Gowanus, by the canal, and under the train trestle. I am on the 4^th floor of a building facing southwest and can see the top of the Lowe’s Building. It is painted in grayed white and emits a fuzzy light that makes you squint depending on the time of day and the weather conditions. I have high ceilings, large windows and have a view of the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. There is a lot of construction happening under the train and workers have wrapped the cement beams holding up the tracks in black mesh-like coverings. Every few feet there are silver-colored, steel circular grommets holding the black covering in place. It’s been like that for years and some of the black mesh is falling down.

The structures are massive (like 50 feet high) and between each two posts, there are supporting beams that ironically make the shape of three upside-down triangles. I love that the supports are rigid but the coverings make them look soft and unstable. It's very toxic and beautiful and bare-bones. A trumpeter often plays music by the canal, competing with the sound of cranes moving scrap metal from junkyard to barge. I think, the unfinished (or seemingly-unfinished) quality in my work feels like it is in a dialogue with the landscape; the forms are carefully articulated yet under-polished.

Photo credit Winnie Au.  

Courtesy Blackston, New York.

 

 

 

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

I always make drawings before I do paintings to get some idea about how I want to execute the paintings. Generally, the paintings stray far from my thumbnail sketches, but it’s really about the attitude of the drawings that I am interested in. I’m nonchalant about it and take many liberties, sometimes cutting into them and reassembling. Often my drawings are made on junky paper that I buy at the drug store. They are pretty quick and matter-of-fact. When I paint, I try to transfer a similar casualness to the paintings yet retain a specific poise.

After I make sketches, I often begin the paintings by “drawing” directly on the canvas with blue tape. Usually, I am working on multiple supports. The tape allows me to get a rough idea how the large forms will look. I always photograph the paintings with my phone before removing the tape so I can refer to the photos while I am making the painting. I then lay down a few layers of a colored ground and sometimes repeat the taping process, making changes. When I begin to use paint on the blank canvas, I have a loose vision about how I want the painting to look, but don’t hold myself to it and it often changes. I let the paint drip where it wants to go, but at the same time I am sensitive to the axis of the painting, its borders and how the forms are interacting. Sometimes the painting is left as is—take it or leave it. But other times, if I can’t articulate a particular awkward and seductive quality that I’m after, I will rework the painting. From time to time, I will mask out peephole-like areas at random that I work with later or I will just paint over the whole thing and start over.

Untitled drawing

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

I try not to get too worked up about resolving a painting and actually love the moment when the stakes feel high and the painting will either crash-and-burn or become something. It amazes me how a simple gesture can sometimes be so full of promise.

 Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

I’ve done a fair amount of experimentation with materials, and think that I really like just working in paint. I do use a spray gun to make the glowing grounds you often see in my paintings and I love how a spray gun or a can of spray paint is such an easy material to use and the result is always a beautiful cliché.

What does the future hold for this work?

I hope, a lot! But, it’s probably best not to think about the future since my work feels very much in the present tense. On a personal note, I believe that everything that I want from my work is already there, inside it somewhere. It satisfies its own desires and resists expectation.

Is there anything else you would like to add?

Yes, thank you so much for your interest in my work and for hosting this online studio visit. Meeting artists and having studio visits with artists from all over the globe is something I enjoy and has been an inspiring and challenging part of my practice for some time. I have been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to travel a little bit and attend a number of residencies. Over the last few years, I was an artist-in-residence at Virginia Commonwealth University, the Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture, Yaddo, and The MacDowell Colony. In each place, my work has been greatly affected by those who have come to see it, and I have had some major breakthroughs in response to dialogue in the studio. At, Skowhegan, for example, I had studios visits that instigated the body of work I just described, and interrogated my vision for Painting.

Having a community of artists to exchange ideas is truly a gift and studio visits are the life-blood of my practice, as they can be uprooting or reaffirming in many ways. This fall, I will be subleasing my studio in Brooklyn to begin my first residency in Manhattan. I am excited and looking forward to the new possibilities.

Square flaker, 42 x 48", oval, acrylic on canvas, 2011

MARILYN KIRSCH

The ochre sea, oil on canvas, 60 x 56", 2011

What are you working on in your studio right now?

After working on large paintings over the last three years, recently I decided to work on a set of relatively smaller canvases. The new series is 36 inches x 54 inches. Since I've become very interested in photography over the last couple of years, I chose this size because it is similar to the proportions of many of my photographs. I thought it would be interesting to see what the format would lead to in a painting.

Can you describe your working routine?

Basically I don't have one! If a painting is at its early stages, I work on my photographs in the morning and paint in the afternoon. As the painting begins to take shape, I work on it earlier in the day. When a work is very close to completion but not quite finished, I usually finish it in the morning after being away from it for a day or two.

studio

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

I'm very fortunate to have a wonderful studio just one floor below where I live. Obviously, this makes it very convenient. It's quiet and has a lovely feeling of solitude. It's set back from the street, so even though it's in a very busy part of Manhattan, it's isolated and private.

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

I slowly add thin layers of color, usually alternating between dark and light. I build up dozens of layers before the surface becomes interesting to me. Also, the colors are constantly changing because each layer mixes with the previous one, usually in unexpected ways. The composition shifts as I work because I make decisions between my preconceived ideas and the random happenings of each layer's color and surface. Somehow through this process the work starts to paint itself. Then I know that I'm getting close to a finished work.

Reflection in gold, photograph

The sun hat, photograph

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

I find non-figurative painting compelling and I have no desire to paint recognizable things, but I love photography and working with “real” images in that way. Communicating the essence of the visual ideas I'm working with in my photographs in a non-figurative painting is an exciting exploration but a difficult one to resolve.

Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

My paintings tend to be oil paint on canvas without too much deviation. I experiment more with how I apply the paint than with the paint itself. When I try new materials it's usually with collages and other work on paper. Recently I've been using the computer to “draw” on my photographs, bringing them somewhere between a drawing and a photograph.

The artist at work

What does the future hold for this work?

I don't know if the conversation will remain between my paintings and my photographs or if I'll mix the materials in some way in the future. Right now I love painting and I love working with photography.

Is there anything else you would like to add?

Only to thank you for your interest in my work.

Salt of the earth, oil on canvas, 60 x 112", diptych, 2011