LISA PRESSMAN

Transcending, 24 x 24", oil on wood, 2012-2013

 

 

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

I have several series of works in progress. Lately doors, windows and even figures are emerging in the work. Most of the time I paint over them. The metaphor of inside /outside has always interested me. Lately, I have been investigating an image suggests a bag, a purse, a container.   ….  I having researching Indian medicine bags and I relate to their healing and spiritual nature. I don’t mind the baggage metaphor as we all have some kind of baggage that we carry around. I have been exploring a change in my palette and scale. There are 10 8” x 6” s, which are small for me, along with the larger works.

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

 

 

I have days that I am in the studio, days that I am teaching, and days that I’m doing the business end of art, so I don’t know if I have an actual routine. If it is a studio day, I am in there in the morning and usually start with straightening up and figuring out what I am going to work on. It is a warm up time. I have concentrated bursts of focused time. I have never been one to paint for hours on end, yet the time I spend making serves me well. Working on many pieces at a time allows me such freedom not to think and just make. Recently a friend of mine joked that I can make a painting in a day. I laughed. I am happy that my work appears to be so fresh and alive but one day does not create a painting. I have been focusing on not overworking my paintings so stopping and starting again is key  to their development. There is a huge gestation time for most pieces. They sit around for weeks, or months until I get back to them and know how to “resolve” them. I always have multiple paintings around in various stages. Most of the work is done in a series and the paintings converse with each other, yet each piece is a completed idea and image on its own. For me, working in a series helps to expand the image idea making and keeps the work fresh.

"There are numerous paintings “percolating”

around in stacks and on the walls today."

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

I am working in my garage, which is a good space in the spring and summer but is pretty cold in the winter. I like that my studio is attached to my house but has a separate entrance.  However, I do not have much natural light and look forward to a studio with big windows and some space.  I am slowly outgrowing my space.

 

 

 

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

 

 

My working routine and process are pretty close. I am at a point in my art making where I feel I have my tool belt pretty well stocked with a vocabulary, ideas, materials, and inspirations. I try to trust that and stay out of my own way. Work begins as play, play with great freedom and without judgment. Evolution comes from looking and paying careful, intuitive attention to what is happening in the work. If I am listening, my work tells me my story. My visual memory and interpretation of the world are more perceptive and in tune than my intellect. I believe in the idea of the spiral. Images and ideas that I have investigated in the past reappear again and again in a different form at different times. I have found my photographs to be very helpful, not as something to work from, but as an indicator of how I see the world. The most important part of my process is looking, editing and of course, deciding when a painting is done. One of my favorite times is coming back to the studio after a day of working to see the work again in a new light.

 

 

 

 

 

Untitled, 11 x11", mixed media on mylar 2012

 

Untitled, 11 x11", mixed media on mylar 2012

 

 

 

 

 

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

 

 

I have trouble having faith in my process. Although I understand the way I work, I have to fight the doubts, judgments and feelings of that not being enough. This is resolved by just being able to move forward and continue working, and trusting that “not knowing,” which is the place I visit all the time in my work, is “knowing” in my world.

 

 

 

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

 

 

I come from experimenting with many materials. I have used clay, wood, nails, paper mache, pastels, charcoal, acrylic, oil, cold wax and encaustic throughout the years. Right now I am working on oil and cold wax pieces, encaustic paintings that include collage, ink and pastel and a series with graphite on vellum.
I enjoy the characteristics’ of each medium and switching it up activates different approaches. For me working with encaustic allows for a very quick build up of layers and many possibilities for scraping and excavating into the work, but it is a very focused intense process. When I paint with oils I have an expansive experience. There is expressiveness to the application of the paint and the moving around it is exciting. Lately I have been using scrapers, brayers, tools and monoprinting to move and mark with the paint. I am working on a new grouping drawings on vellum. Working with graphite, erasers, pastels is liberating as a visual thinking process.

 

 

 

 

 

The Dark,  8 x6”, oil on  board, 2013

 

 

 

 

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

I am preparing for a solo show at The Rosenfeld Gallery in September 2013. I have other shows in the works but which are not confirmed.  The work is changing as I write. I just had a great day in the studio.


 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

Thanks, Valerie, for this opportunity to talk about my current work and process!

Spirit Bag 3, oil on wood, 24 x 24", 2013



 

 

 

ERIN LAWLOR

Untitled, oil on canvas,116x89cm, 2012

 

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

Mainly a series of oils on paper right now. I'm about to move, so I'm a little wary of bulk at the moment. Storage is always an issue. I'll be working in the countryside for a month or two in between moves and I'm looking forward to working on some large canvases there.

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

 

 

I work most days, simply because I'm not a very nice person to be around when I don't, although how much time I have is very variable, with my other jobs and having kids. There's always an in-between time of doing nothing when I first arrive in the studio. I often start by finishing up the crossword puzzle I've started on the way up in the bus. It's funny but I know a couple of painters who do that and I suppose there's something visually satisfying and no doubt reassuring about a finished crossword. I suppose we all have our different ways of appropriating the space and re-appropriating the work itself. It takes a bit of time, looking at what's in there, what interests me in what's gone before, what I'll allow to survive and what hasn't made it through the night. Coffee, and cigarettes. So many rituals of approach, and the inevitable preparation of paint, brushes…There's an in-between time, which is more about setting aside the outside world and a letting go than it is about any technical preparation. At some point I turn the music up loud and just get on with it, and stop when I run out of light or time or floor-space.






Erin Lawlor - Paris 2013 from Calvin Walker on Vimeo.

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

I've been working basically in the same studio for the last sixteen years, one room with lots of light and a very leaky roof in eastern Paris. It's small, which inevitably effects the size of what I do there, and even the amount - as I work on the ground there quickly comes a point when there's just no more room, I have to wait for things to dry sufficiently to lift them up. Luckily, although I work in oil, the dissolvent I use considerably speeds up the drying time, so that's not quite as constraining as it may sound.

I only work in oil up there, and the whole place is covered in it, the floor is encrusted with a build-up from over the years, a bit like a Eugene Leroy painting. I sometimes work in a slightly bigger space out in the countryside, and I do find it easier to work on the larger pieces there, partly because I can have a few down at the same time, even if I still tend to work on them one after another rather than going back and forth. I also find there's a freedom in that it's less encumbered with past works; whether it's that or the fact that it's further south means that I find it easier there not to overwork, or over-stifle the colors. I don't yet know where or what my next studio space will be, so I'm curious myself to see if and how it will affect the work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

One painting very much leads to another. There's a certain amount of background work that goes on before I get down to the nitty-gritty, so that takes the pressure off the starting point, helps the warming-up process. It's not that these don't matter- they do, in terms of initial choices of format, tonal values, but it's a build-up over days or weeks. There's a gradual build-up before the culminating phase of work. I think it was de Kooning who said that painting a picture was like crossing the road, and at some point I find I have to just have to propel myself into it and take the leap. In that final phase it's more a question of being attentive to what's going on in the canvas for me, there's an internal logic that's takes over, the moment Guston described as leaving even yourself at the door. And of course I never know it is the final phase. Despite the quick drying times there's a few days when I can still erase the whole thing and start over, and I do that constantly. It's only over time that I ever know if I think a piece is really finished. And even then, not so much finished, as satisfactory, if it has life of its own, and one that interests me. I self-edit constantly, destroy a lot, I'm very wary of complacency.

 

The changes there are are gradual ones, I'm not really aware of any ruptures as such. I know my colors have got brighter recently, perhaps the influence of my recent trip to California for a show, but I think it was on its way prior to that, perhaps more a question of confidence. And I sense there's a freeing-up at the moment, of the brushwork and space, as well as the chromatic range, but again its a gradual evolution.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are you have most problem resolving?

 

 

I'm not sure I really think of things in those terms, at least not any more. I certainly don't have the conceit to believe I'm resolving anything, and it's the endless fascination with paint, and what transpires on the canvas, and precisely the things I don't control, that keep me wanting to go into the studio every day, and that have brought me to the point I'm at now. Over the years I think I've begun to accept the fact of being the painter that I am, rather than the painter I'd perhaps had an idea I would have liked to have been when I started out, and that perhaps makes it less of a struggle as such. A recent stint at curating brought that home to me, too, working with other artists, bringing together other people's work and highlighting dialogue's between them, makes it that much easier to come to terms with all the valid and interesting directions I don't take in my own work.

 

Of course there have been various technical issues, over the years, finding a satisfactory replacement for turps, which I developed an allergy to. And size - the relationship to space and volume changes dramatically according to format, but those are points of exploration and interest, and choices, at the end of the day, rather than problems as such. The only constant struggle, again, is probably complacency, avoiding the facile, trying to go beyond what works merely in terms of color and composition to something that has presence or sense of its own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

I experiment very little with other materials, at least not in the studio. I came back to painting through a love of oil, I'm an oil junkie, the endless possibilities of color, the light changing with the direction of the brushstroke, but also the texture and smell of it. I draw and paint with felt-pens or ink outside the studio, but that's through being an obsessive mark-maker. And I do some work on silk, and ceramics, but those are parallel activities to me, rather than part of the process, even if they are inevitably informed by what goes on in the studio, and vice versa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

As far as the work in progress is concerned, I have no idea which will survive or where they'll go next, but surely that's the point?

 

On a practical level, some will hopefully be heading out to the States. I've recently started working with the George Lawson gallery in L.A. and he's just opened a new space in San Francisco. There are also a couple of group shows coming up in France in the next few months. Inevitably a lot will be going into storage at least for now while I work out exactly where I'm going next myself…

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 

Just thank you for inviting me - I've discovered the work of so many wonderful painters through your blog.

 

 

 

 

 

Untitled, oil on canvas, 65x50cm, 2012

JEN HITCHINGS

All Hail Tequila, 2012, oil on wood, 16 x 20"

 

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

Right now, I'm working on a slightly new body of paintings, both oil and acrylic, on medium-sized canvas and wood. The new work has become a lot more psychotic, psychedelic, and a combination of dream-like and nightmarish than it used to be. Words have very recently made their way into the paintings, as of the most recent two. I've also just started experimenting with iridescent and metallic paints. Gold and silver do amazing things with light and give a lot of dimension to the scenes I create.

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

 

 

I use my studio as both a place to paint and an exhibition space to show other artists. Which is a lot more work than I thought it would be. I unfortunately only paint during "open hours," two nights a week, and sometimes on Mondays, my day off from work. Luckily, I work at Pierogi in Williamsburg, so I'm around amazing art and artists there anytime that I'm not making work and doing "normal" things that people have to do day to day.

 

 

 

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

 

 

My studio is in Bushwick, which is amazing because I'm surrounded by artists and galleries. I paint and keep all of my work and supplies in about 80 square feet. Between working full-time, doing studio visits, and trying to see other shows, my life feels a little hectic at times. I think the craziness and thus anxiety makes its way into the paintings too.

 

 

 

 

BitchRide, 2012, Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24"

 

 

 

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

 

 

I paint from photographs, usually of a group of people at a party or some kind of celebration. They're always of very sporadic and candid moments. I'll usually draw from the photograph first, and then make the painting from the drawing. The first moments on the canvas are always the most terrifying for me. I'll sometimes paint an irrelevant landscape, or use a palette inspired by some image in my studio to start. Once the canvas is covered with paint, I'll start painting from the drawing. A lot of things in the original photograph make it into the painting, proportions are often accurate, but during the process of painting many objects/figures grow and become attached to one another.

 

 

 

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

 

 

I often find it hard to know when a painting is done. It's something I always ask other artists, and I feel like there should be some answer, but in reality there probably is not. Once I stop working on something for about a week, I usually can't bring myself to touch it again. I also am battling with scale. The paintings are slowly getting larger, because I'd like to eventually paint large, but have tried and failed many times. Working from 4x6" photographs makes me feel like the paintings have to stay small and intimate, but I don't want to limit myself to that constraint.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

I prefer to work with paint on wood or canvas, though there are a million things I would like to try to do. I get too nervous about jumping into a completely unknown terrain, so I normally take baby steps. I hated acrylic until I received a ton of free acrylic paint, and decided to try it, so that's a start. I'd love to try working with ceramics. Allison Schulnik, who's by far my most admired painter, makes these beautiful fired ceramics and they really made me want to experiment with the 3-dimensional world.

 

 

 

 

 

One side of WEEKNIGHTS during the current exhibition,

WHY SO SERIOUS? Exhibiting the work of 30 artists

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

I hope to make a lot more of this kind of work, enough to have a solo show, within the next few months. There's currently 5 pieces, and I need more than that. A friend of mind kindly asked me to put some work up at Mama Joy's, a new soul-food-esque restaurant and really cool bar in Bushwick, and that will be the first time they are exhibited together, which I'm excited about.

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 

I really appreciate the opportunity to share my artistic experience on Studio Critical! Also, in the months of running the exhibition space in my studio, called WEEKNIGHTS, I've made some amazing friendships and have had SO much fun at the openings. I don't even have words to describe how grateful and appreciative I am of the support that I've received. Any other artists out there are welcome to submit work, and of course to view exhibitions. Information can be found here.

Adolescence, 2012, oil on canvas, 18 x 30 inches

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PATRICK MICHAEL FITZGERALD

Consolidation, oil & collage on linen, 55 x 46 cm, 2012

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

A group of paintings that have floating or hanging forms over a more structured painted background. Some of these paintings are older unfinished works, which have become transformed with the new elements. These floating forms are directly painted on the surface or collaged pieces of painted cloth or paper. I often work with them flat on the floor or on a low table or bench. In these paintings there is an ambiguity, it is unclear whether things are disintegrating or coming together. I feel time is the governing force in these paintings; their shallow spaces arise slowly from the process of time.

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

I have a pretty regular routine. Most painting is done in the mornings, as that is when I prefer the light. In the afternoons or evenings, and if I’m not teaching, I usually work on drawings in an area of the studio with a drawing table. There are moments of doing nothing, of being mentally or emotionally engaged but without physically working. Doing nothing is doing something. Learning what not to do and what to avoid is just as important as what I choose to do.




 

 

 

 

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

 

 

My studio is on street level in an apartment block. It’s about 130 square meters with a high ceiling and has two large ceiling to floor windows, one of which faces northwest. As I usually work on many paintings at the same time, the large workspace allows me to line them all up and see them all together if need be. I also have a good storage area where I can hide things from view for periods of time (something I find an absolute necessity during the process). The space is also very suitable for presenting work when I have studio visits. My studio is a kind of oasis, a place I constantly escape to, but also a place to return to things in a more intimate way. It’s a sensorial place as well as a mental space.

 

 

 

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

 

 

My process has become very organic; reworking things, interweaving things... paintings can have their origins in the history of my own work or the wider history of art. Some small aspect or detail can be enough. A memory of something or even certain sensations. I also use my immediate surroundings and day-to-day life as a source. For me this is important, it’s a way of transforming it into something else. The everyday can have a blind weight to it; the challenge is how to open it up, break it open even. The marvellous is always close at hand and often overlooked. There is also an element of recycling; discarded paintings or studio debris can be incorporated into a work, something from nothing, a kind of radical humility.   

 

 

 

 

 

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

 

 

One could consider each painting as a problem to be resolved but I shy away from this idea. A painting should be a lived thing, it is lived through in its making and in the viewing, as such it will often contain certain failures or inherent problems. It is very often the case that the unresolved has a lot of truth in it. For me a painting is an entity that should not depend on a fixed one-dimensional face to the world. It is an accumulation of evidence which reflects the life of its own making and the daily life that has gone into it.
The only real things that need resolving are those that most people have...life things, practical things. In my case, it’s creating a balance, which enables me to work, finding time and a certain tranquil state of mind. This is not always easy to achieve.



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

 

 

Essentially, I use traditional painting materials such as oil paint on linen or canvas... but I will often add other things, collaged elements, flanking wooden additions on one side of the painting, holes or openings in the surface etc. But I need to have certain limits. They define and articulate the freedom of a painting. I really don’t like painting that uses a lot of very obvious techniques or elaborate processes. I have always tried to find the most direct way of working at any given moment, keeping things within certain limits enables me to do this. Painting is a bodily extension of thought, a haptic experience. It arises from the dark pools of who we are. Light and dark light weave, forms arise through marks, colour and contrast and if I am lucky and have followed the painting to where it wishes to go (although this is not always clear), the painting will get to a state of affairs in which it pushes me out of its limits and yet holds my attention at the same time.   

 

Stages, oil & collage on linen, 104 x 86 cm, 2012

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

That is impossible to say because I’m seeking an unknown outcome.

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 

I recently read something by George Steiner on Heraclitus in his book The Poetry of Thought, which expresses something I can identify with (I have added the word painting):

“He quarries language (painting) before it weakens into imagery, into eroded abstraction. His abstractions are radically sensory and concrete, but not in the opportunistic mode of allegory. They enact, they perform thought where it is still, as it were, incandescent… Where it follows on the shock of discovery, of naked confrontation with its own dynamism, at once limitless and bounded.”

Finally these words by Juhani Pallasmaa from The Embodied Image define a wider territory where my paintings might function:

“In my view, in the near future, the notion of the ‘real’ will increasingly imply what is justifiable in the biological perspective, both past and future. The notion of the real in our settings of life cannot be endlessly expanded and relativised; we are are biological and historical beings whose entire physical, metabolic and neural systems have been optimally tuned to the reality of physical, ecological and biological facts. The human reality, as well as our future, is undeniably grounded in our biological and cultural past as much as in our wisdom concerning the future.       


    
 

Dissolution, oil & collage on linen, 46 x 39 cm, 2011