Drawings for a book of prints that Cinders is assembling.
This is the front cover of a booklet I created for the NY Art Book Fair at P.S. 1. The event is sponsored by Printed Matter and will be attended by the good folks at Cinders Gallery. The booklet is in tribute to the TEMPLE of BLOOOM crew and Cinders Gallery. Best of luck to them as they look for a new home.
Labels: ny art book fair john orth
Paintings for Temple of Blooom at Cinders Gallery. See Cinders blog for price list and pictures of install.
Labels: cinders gallery temple of BLOOOM
Another Little Stallion image for The Retelling project.
Labels: john orth retelling holopaw
David John from YouHaveBeenHereSometime kindly asked me to contribute to his site. In lieu of an interview, I submitted images of the objects I collect.
Up until a few years ago an original Indian River Fruit Stand still stood on A1A in St. Augustine, Florida. It was an open air souvenir shop that had spindly palm trees growing through holes cut in the orange and white aluminum awning that fringed the building. My friend Alison and I visited the shop each time she was in town for the holidays. To our amazement, much of the original stock was still on the shelves. Our purchases over the years included hand painted coconut shell banks, lucite dolphins embedded with shells and glitter, a postcard that read "Sweating my ass off in Florida" and a set of pink and white plastic leis.
I was certain I never needed a pink flamingo in the yard. But this particular flamingo with its sun beaten pink paint accented with dripping black enamel and a splinted neck that makes it seem as weary as the joke it has become, made me think otherwise.
The cypress knees are props left over from a video my boyfriend shot last summer. The action has me and our friend Jeff McMullen, clad in black wetsuits, wandering the tangled woods of Central Florida in search of each other. The shoot had us wading into icy springfed ponds on moonless nights. The roar of cicadas, tree frogs and a 50 amp generator filled the air. The long drives back into town tested the limits of "too much whisky" and too many sad Will Oldham songs.
I found these artificial birds in at a thrift store near my house. 30 or so birds of all colors and persuasions were piled together in a gallon size freezer bag. Despite their tattered feathers and pitted foam, their eyes have a lively, black lacquer shine that makes them seem hopeful. I tried separating out favorites for display but ended up pinning the whole lot, freezer bag and all to my office wall. It suits them best.
On tropical summer days I close myself into my front room. The walls are painted a cool, aquarium blue. The staghorn fern hung outside the window diffuses the sunlight into shades of shadowy green. I listen to a pulse lulling mix that might include Arthur Russell or Blossom Dearie and watch the silver wire snowflakes hung in front of the window unit whirl.
I have a small collection of concrete lawn ornaments, half of which I keep inside. The rabbit is my favorite. He sits atop a cabinet in my bathroom. His pink, marbled eyes have an intensity that seem to imply the unknown trauma that left him with two wire, cartoon tracings where his ears had once been.