I studied painting throughout college, and then again at the Atlanta College of Art (now SCAD Atlanta) under the guidance, encouragement and exuberance of Eula Rodgers Ginsburg. My other mentor at the time was local artist Deanna Sirlin, who through her informal tours of artist studios, collectives and co-op galleries tutored me on the business side of the art world.

In my early 20s, one of my paintings was selected for the LaGrange National Biennial, juried by Benny Andrews (1930 - 2006), and would become my first ever group show.

Meeting Andrews in person and hear him talk about my work was incredibly inspirational. Surrounded by so many of the talented participants in the show, I felt confident for the first time to call myself an artist.

After our chat at the opening, Andrews shook my hand and said, “Keep making good art.”

That was the last time I saw him.

The art continues.

As for the art being “good”--- that remains to be seen.

Information about my current projects are on my my Artist's site.

// Nexus

Atlanta Contemporary, founded as artist collective and exhibition space Nexus in 1973, was the backdrop of my formative days as an artist. While I balanced studio art classes with the rest of my course load in college, it wasn’t until I started studying painting at the Atlanta College of Art (now SCAD) that I actually felt comfortable in my artist’s skin.

It was around that time that the Nexus name was replaced with Atlanta Contemporary Art Center, but all the artist circles I inserted myself in still lovingly referred to the space as Nexus. This was my real life version of an MFA, going on gallery walks here or being guided on surviving the realities of the contemporary art world by renowned local artists.

Having not set foot inside the building in 20 years, it was wonderful (not to mention a shot in the arm (brush?)) to commune with Sam Gilliam, Hasani Sahlehe, and Greg Climer for the Contemporary’s 50th anniversary.

// After the Flood

// Hunter Museum of Art (Chattanooga, Tennessee; November 2021)

Oh, nostalgia.

The Hunter is a special place for me since a visit there with my father was my earliest memory of going to any museum (more on my dad in an earlier post below).

Whenever I get the chance to revisit, I always make a point to see two of my favorite works: Rauschenberg’s “Opal Reunion” (1976) and Milton Avery’s “March by the Sea” (1945).

Aside being a Rauschenberg fan, the “reunion” in the combine’s namesake is always a literal one for me, both with the painting and with the Hunter Museum. I love slowly gliding up to it in person and catch my reflection in its hazy mirrored panel each time; each time I’m older and hopefully slightly better as an artist than was reflected last time.

I first learned about Milton Avery during my early fascination with Matisse in college. One evening while flipping through issues of ArtNews in the library stacks (when I very much should have been studying), I saw an ad for an Avery show in a New York gallery.

Not knowing anything about Milton Avery there was a Matissean familiarity for me, but something much more modern. I remember going the next day to Borders books to get that exact same issue so I could cut out the picture for my wall. It was “Mother and Child” (1943) and I still have it framed in my study.

This visit I also got to see an Elizabeth Murray, “Rollin’ Stone” (2003), one of the early group of contemporary artists I learned about from to date, still one of my all time favorite documentaries about the art world, Art City: Making it in Manhattan (I still own the VHS and its well worn dust jacket).

// Joan Mitchell at SFMoMA (October 2021)

Really enjoyed this immersive exhibit that combined a very thorough survey of Joan Mitchell’s work with the inspiration she drew from her friends and contemporaries in poetry, music and dance as well as the natural world around her.

// Pace Gallery Discussion: Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen (April 2021)

Pace Gallery recently hosted a virtual panel discussion facilitated by curatorial director Oliver Shultz about the collaboration and partnership of Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen. I had encountered Oldenburg’s work before through the famous binoculars in Venice Beach near an office I frequented, the famous cherry on a spoon in Minneapolis, and especially cool for me as both an artist and an archer, the giant bow and arrow under the Bay Bridge in San Francisco.

But what I learned from the panel was that their partnership is a story of advocacy for each other’s vision and maintaining authenticity while still staying open to the demands of the art market despite an atmosphere of gender bias.

What was not as well known outside their circles is why giant cherries on spoons and and fluttering neckties are known as Claes Oldenburg sculptures (only) and not Oldenburg-van Bruggen sculptures. Because of response from gallerists and clients, being a woman at that time, van Bruggen removed her name from mention so the work would retain higher market value.

And as one of the panelists exclaimed during the talk, “Not much has changed today.”

According to past museum director Kasper König, this never prevented Oldenburg always being van Bruggen’s biggest champion and always praising their collaboration, publicly or privately.

Great to hear the panelists all share their personal stories and encounters with Claes and Coosje.

That and I finally know that “Spoonbridge and Cherry” at the Walker Art Center isn’t just the iconic symbol of the Minneapolis art world, but is also a working fountain (I had no idea).

Pace CEO Marc Glimcher, Walker Art Center Executive Director Mary Ceruti, and Past Director of Museum Ludwig in Cologne Kasper König were on the panel, with Pace Curatorial Director Oliver Shultz moderating.

// Vaknin Schwartz Gallery was the heart of all artists’ ambitions in circa 2000 Atlanta

The arts scene as I experienced it in early 2000s Atlanta was not unlike the indie film community in town at the time: collaborative, supportive, communal. Artists attended each others shows, we’d volunteer to give docent tours of each other’s studios, we’d gather for parties and boxed wine at gallery openings or listen to live music meets contemporary art events at Eyedrum.

My favorite memory of this time was going to Vaknin-Schwartz for an artist talk by Kojo Griffin, a Vaknin Schwartz artist who had work at the 2000 Whitney Biennial. He ate Fig Newtons from the food spread and talked about the elaborate characters of his paintings.

He balanced his art-making with a full time job at a local Pearl Art Supplies and still very much espoused that there’s nothing quite like putting in the work to make your art a reality: “You’re tired, but you just got to put in the hours.”

I wrote that in my notebook that night and kept it bookmarked.

// Museums Under Coronavirus

When I used to attend gallery talks in person, it was usually accompanied by a tray of Wheat Thins and Fig Newtons with two large boxes of Franzia holding down the rest of the card table. Now with fresh new gallery talks in a COVID-friendly format, collaborations with local mixologists have made the experience that much more tasty.

Enjoyed my first virtual gallery talk thanks to 8 Bridges for a talk on how galleries and museums are surviving the coronavirus era.

Panelists were:

• Susan Sayre Batton - Director, San Jose Museum of Art

• Thomas P. Campbell - Director, Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco (a.k.a the deYoung and Legion of Honor)

• Monetta White - Director, Museum of African Diaspora

• Moderated by Jori Finkel - New York Times; The Art Newspaper

It was a nice behind-the-scenes discussion ranging from increasing diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives through building curatorial staff, to whether museums can be more inclusive by being free (and some very real conditions of why some institutions can’t), to the ethical approaches of using deaccessioning as a means of expanding collections but not to fund operations. Important insights into the minds of museum directors as they navigate a time where experiencing art in person has been completely disrupted, extremely limited at best, entirely shut down at worst.

// Oral Histories of the ATL Art World

Got really excited to see this series from Art Papers that highlights each decade of the Atlanta art world from the 1980s to the 2010s.

I really grew up as an artist and got comfortable calling myself an “artist” thanks to all the mentors, colleagues, gallery shows, and collectives that I was given access to in the early 2000s in Atlanta. This became a super inspirational time for me as well as a chance to look around and be motivated to do more. That slice of Atlanta art world history that I had the chance to participate in really became the formal starting point in my art career.

// Studio Days

// I’m an Artist thanks to Big Julie (and my Dad)

COVID-19 has given the chance to many museums to start sharing more of their collections online. So I was thrilled when my hometown museum, the Hunter Museum of American Art, included this image from their permanent collection, the wood sculpture Big Julie, by Alan Siegel (b.1938)

This is easily the first image I can remember of seeing any piece of art in any museum. My parents were working class restaurateurs who went out on their own to open a Chinese restaurant in Chattanooga, Tennessee. They would run the business there for 36 years before retiring.

As such, my dad was at the restaurant seven days a week. Taking time off was a rarity for him, but when he did, he made every effort to spend it with family.

It was on one of these off days that he took six year old me to the Hunter Museum of Art for the first time. I was excited to spend time with him and in what became regular father-son visits, loved exploring what felt like some giant mysterious mansion filled with endless hallways and hidden stairways.

Big Julie was installed near the entrance, so seeing the sculpture was a visual signal that an afternoon of artsy discoveries with Dad was about to begin. The artwork’s vibrant green and yellow grid is still what gets conjured in my mind whenever I hear the word “museum,” even to this day. I remember looking at all the different artwork in the corridors that followed, fascinated by the diverse colors, shapes, and sizes of the paintings, photographs, and sculptures within.

Maybe one day I could be an artist, too, I thought.

Thanks, Dad.

// Nothing Begins Until You Start

// First Day in the New Studio

In May 2020 I was fortunate enough to find a new studio space as this corner of the art world continues to shelter-in-place and stay socially distanced. Enjoying getting settled back and trying to make the best of social isolation.

// Untitled Art Fair - San Francisco (January 2020)

For the last couple of years, Untitled SF has been my chance to art fair, first at Ft. Mason and this year moving to Pier 35 within a street performer’s coin toss away from Fisherman’s Wharf.

// SoBu Art Scene - Atlanta

In the late 1990s / early 2000s, the spot to be in the art world was the South Buckhead art scene (or SoBu as it was popularized by artists back then). It was a stretch of Peachtree Street (of course Peachtree Street) that featured a mini gallery-row of high profile gallerists. This was the glitz and glam while the more down to earthy parts of the Atlanta art world were 10th Street, downtown Atlanta, Little Five Points, a (then) up and coming artists-live-and-work-here part of the city called Cabbagetown, and a few other locations scattered throughout.