The post Prism of Poetry: An Interview with Illustrator and Designer LK James appeared first on Newfound.

Check out Bubblegum & Whiskey in the current issue of Newfound.

Laura Eppinger: First of all, I am enchanted and impressed by the range of materials and objects you incorporate. Woodwork! Embroidery! Metal! Paint! How do you decide what materials to use? Which artist brings which expertise to a piece?

Sarah E. Swist and Kevin R. Mercer: We’re glad you enjoy the wide variety of materials!  We definitely want to explore as many methods of creation as possible.  Our formal art studies were technically in the areas of drawing and painting.  We created this project knowing it would be based in mixed-media.

Swist and Mercer: For Bubblegum & Whiskey, we are happy to utilize any process that we think would be most beneficial for a particular piece. Sometimes, that means learning an entirely new skill. Other times, we pick up a technique that has a strong sense of history within our family. Sewing and woodworking are things that our parents and grandparents did for both practical reasons and for entertainment. We have moved several times and there hasn’t been continuity in resources. It encouraged us to branch out, take risks, and endure failures.

Kevin does quite a bit of woodworking but when space was limited he dove into modeling and digital fabrication. Sarah often makes large oil paintings but when ventilation was an issue she started embroidery instead. We teach each other new skills while meshing together our own areas of expertise. We never say “no” when the opportunity to try something new arises.

Bubblegum & Whiskey functions best when we make use of things we find or already have on-hand.  It’s about the spirit of making good things happen with leftovers, in less-than-ideal spaces, or with skills we taught ourselves.  This kind of attitude is what makes the small, rural communities that we live in continue to thrive.

In addition to professional artists, we like to look at drawings, notes, journals, quilts, tools, and photographs from relatives. – Swist and Mercer

Eppinger: “Bubblegum & Whiskey” is a great name for this exhibit. It’s an unlikely pairing at first, but is also appealing. Something sweet, something dangerous and potent. … Am I missing anything?

Swist and Mercer:  We feel like the name Bubblegum & Whiskey totally encapsulates the highs and lows of daily life. We like to feel the uplifting nostalgia of childhood and dig-in to the monotonous underbelly of adulthood. As humans, we want to experience success and growth but we are tied to some of our daydreams from the past. It can be creatively challenging to commit to an entire body of work because life doesn’t always cooperate. Some things appear to be stagnant forever and other things change way too quickly.

Each piece we make has a light side and darker side so we may indulge in whatever is happening at the moment. For example, the pieces titled “Heirloom” are portraits of vintage fabric scraps Sarah’s grandmother saved. They come from dresses made in the ’30s and ’40s that clothed many women in the family. The small sizes, unique patterns and odd shapes make them unusual to work with. When her grandmother had to move out of her home, it felt so unceremonious and gloomy. What do people get rid of and what do they keep? These pieces have no monetary value but they were saved for generations. The paintings we made are portraits of some of the individual scraps that survived more than 60 years of storage.

Eppinger: “Manager’s Special” is bright and eye-catching. It brought Andy Warhol to mind—would you consider Pop Art an influence? If not, who is a bigger influence or inspiration?

Swist and Mercer: We love Pop Art! We’re also interested in old signage and the graphic design often seen in generic items or “off-brand” substitutes. When you shop at a dollar store or pick-up bargain brand groceries, the packaging seems new and eye-catching but it is also budget friendly. It is easy to go to a chain store and glance down an aisle and recognize logos or brands before reading the label.

Kevin worked at a small, independent grocer for several years a long time ago. It was the only grocery store for about 30 miles. It had five aisles. He often labeled produce, stacked cans, and carried out bags for regular customers. After six years, he had seen every aspect of meat grinding and slicing in the deli where the same folks often came for the same order. Taking that slimy slab of meat and cutting it out of felt and wrapping it up in cheap plastic is a really playful homage to those years and that town.

The aesthetics of Bubblegum & Whiskey are influenced by well-known artists like Tom Sachs, Barry McGee and Margaret Kilgallen, and Pip and Pop. We love still-life painting, art with a sense of humor, and getting sucked into Instagram rabbit holes of art. In addition to professional artists, we like to look at drawings, notes, journals, quilts, tools, and photographs from relatives.

Eppinger: “Birthday Tank” takes an object of war and inserts it into a scene from childhood. Of course, children’s toys do this all the time! How did you arrive at this juxtaposition? I feel like there is a minefield of commentary just lurking under the surface.

Swist and Mercer: There are a lot of small towns across the country that have patriotic memorials, statues, artillery and armaments in community parks. Main Street is decorated with flags, folks have banquets and get-togethers at the V.F.W. and local heroes make the paper. There are parades and picnics in the summer, birthday parties in the gazebo and kids in swimsuits ride their bikes to the county pool. These places still exist. It’s really endearing to feel the spirit of a small town.

At the same time, it’s hard to know if people are holding on too tightly or if time has already passed these places by. Sarah’s parents live in a rural town of 800. This year, a grain factory two towns over is shutting down. What happens to the people employed there and their families, or the local businesses where they shop? At the same time, a huge parcel of land on the way to this agricultural plant was sold and the new owner removed all the mature trees to make room for more crops.

Truthfully, we hope that Bubblegum & Whiskey will always be a work in progress. The continual progression, improvement, and evolution of the work is a parallel to the persistent work ethic and optimism found in the small communities we love. – Swist and Mercer

Eppinger: At the time Vol 8 Issue 2 of Newfound went live, Bubblegum & Whiskey was considered a work in progress and still evolving. Is this true today? What new additions have been made? What’s next?

Swist and Mercer: Bubblegum & Whiskey will be in a show at James May Gallery in Algoma, Wisconsin this spring. Recently we have begun to add 3-D modeling and digital collage to the Bubblegum & Whiskey canon, which is a fun and contemporary method of visualizing vintage fabric patterns and retro color schemes. We hope to get this work posted on our website soon.

When we moved to Nebraska last summer, we drove all around the state and went way out in the countryside. It took us a few weeks to get familiar with the area and absorb our new surroundings. We have lived in small rural towns across the Midwest in the past, but we have intentions of staying in this specific place long-term. That gives us a different perspective and allows us the time to explore this place at a slower pace. It’s exciting to think about how the project will change when we become really attached to our surroundings. We aren’t just passing through—Nebraska is home.

Truthfully, we hope that Bubblegum & Whiskey will always be a work in progress. The continual progression, improvement, and evolution of the work is a parallel to the persistent work ethic and optimism found in the small communities we love.

Eppinger: What’s on the horizon for you as a team, and individually as artists?

Swist and Mercer: In 2018, Bubblegum & Whiskey will participate in “Treat America Project” with Treat Gallery out of New York. We will serve as representatives of Nebraska and take pictures to post on Instagram for one week this summer. We join a great group of artists from every state in the country and at the end of the year, there will be a physical exhibition of photographic prints.  Proceeds from sales of hardcopy prints during the opening reception in 2019 will go to charities in each state selected by the artists.  Folks can follow @TreatAmericaProject and @TreatGallery to see the what will be shared from across the country.

We hope that Bubblegum & Whiskey will continue to be fresh and adventurous. We love sharing this work and enjoy the opportunity to do something different outside of our individual work.  Thank you so much for asking such great questions and for inviting us to talk about our ideas and processes.

Sarah E. Swist received her BFA from Western Illinois University and her MFA from Penn State University. As a graduate student, she served as a drawing instructor for the School of Visual Arts and as a digital fabrication assistant in the School of Architecture. She was the recipient of the Fund for Excellence in Graduate Recruitment Award as well as a Creative Achievement Award. In recent years, she worked at the Carnegie Science Center and taught at Penn State Altoona. Swist has lived and shown work across the country. She is currently working and making art at Hastings College in Nebraska as Assistant Professor of Painting.

Kevin R. Mercer received his BFA from Western Illinois University and his MFA from Penn State University. At WIU, Mercer received the University Gallery Purchase Award and at PSU he was the recipient of the prestigious Gerald Davis Painting Prize. As a graduate student, he served as a design instructor and as a wood/metals shop technician. Mercer previously worked with the Carnegie Museum of Art and as Assistant Professor of Art & Gallery Manager at Texas A&M University in Corpus Christi. He has shown in cities such as Chicago, Cincinnati, New York, Brooklyn, Portland, and Pittsburgh. Currently, he lives and works in Nebraska where he serves as Instructor of Art & Gallery Director at Hastings College.

Laura Eppinger graduated from Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA in 2008 with a degree in Journalism, and she’s been writing creatively ever since. She the blog editor here at Newfound Journal.

The post The Highs and Lows of Daily Life: Artist Interview with Sarah E. Swist and Kevin R. Mercer appeared first on Newfound.

Within these dancing forms, a story unfolds: Informed by the life and experiences of her ancestor, Cynthia Ann Parker, Salazar explores and exposes a story that has been forgotten over time.

You can see Salazar’s work in Vol. 8 of Newfound Journal here.

In her conversation with Newfound, Salazar shares the story of Cynthia Ann Parker, her work with paper as an art form and her newest work:

Courtney Simchak: The work you’ve been showcasing this year has roots in your family history. Can you tell us more about how your family history has inspired your work?

Samantha Parker Salazar: I am incredibly intrigued by the story of Cynthia Ann Parker, an ancestor shrouded in mystery and controversy. My interest in her story was prompted by the lack of a written account of her life, leaving a multitude of possibilities regarding her character and intentions. On the one hand, she was held captive by the Comanche who raided her family’s land, but on the other hand she married the tribe’s chieftain, Peta Nocona, with whom she also had several children.

Cynthia Ann was captured around the age of 10 and by the time she was discovered by Texas Rangers she had completely abandoned Western language and customs to live as the Comanche did. A portion of her contemporaries viewed her with pity while the others assumed she was a deserter, a harlot. Time has washed away the significance of her story; today, her only relevant contribution to American history was giving birth to the last Comanche Chief, Quanah Parker.

My recent work is a visual exploration of each facet of her life and personality. I am not looking to tie up her story with a neat bow, but see myself shaking the dust off a piece of forgotten American history that I feel is especially pertinent to women.

Simchak: What do you enjoy most about working in paper and sculpture? Do you find it easier to work in three-dimensions? Why work with paper?

Salazar: I enjoy the challenge of making a material do what it’s not meant to do. Paper has this amazing ability to be malleable yet it is rigid enough to hold a form. The unexpected act of taking using it for sculpture has me excited about the process.

Paper is also a metaphor for skin, perceived fragility, basic human material. When I cut into it repeatedly with a scalpel it feels like I am performing a surgery or an ancient ritual. The paper just feels so simple and familiar to the touch—anyone can relate to it as a material.

Simchak: I think that is what makes your work so moving—it’s simple, yet complex. Delicate and strong. All of the contradictions found in seeing an everyday material contorted in new and unsuspecting ways. Do you think you’ll ever work away from paper? Or do you think it will be a lifelong interest?

Salazar: I suspect paper will stay with me from beginning to end. It started with paper—from my childhood fascination with the papery seeds that fall from maple trees to summers spent drawing in my grandparents’ greenhouse. In high school, I was primarily interested in drawing and took a drawing/printmaking course at when I was 16. That was when I was first introduced to the supple, smooth material that comprises fine art printmaking papers.

Through college, I drifted back and forth between works on paper and sculpture, never really reconciling the two. It wasn’t until the end of graduate school that I realized I could make sculptures out of paper—that the two ways of working with materials could become one. Paper became the perfect material to use for sculpture: I found it was lightweight and portable, would yield easily to physical manipulation yet strong enough to hold a form, and it was a material that was distinctly human.

Simchak: Lighting seems like a very important aspect of your work, in the way it plays up or down the contrast, the interpreted weight of your materials and color. Do you work with the galleries or do you have complete control over the lighting with your work?

Salazar: Light is always important and I appreciate when that aspect is not overlooked by the viewer. Sometimes lighting the piece can be the hardest part of install and is typically a collaborative step between me and the gallery.

Generally, I prefer to take down most of the lights before installation begins, adding some back in as the sculpture grows within the space. At the end of install all the lights are adjusted to illuminate particular areas in the composition, much like creating a drawing or painting except it is happening within our three-dimensional world. It is always challenging to adjust lights at the end because you have to deal with this large physical obstruction of paper and monofilament, especially when lighting work from behind or within the piece.

Simchak:  Can you talk about why you to turn away from colorful sculptures to the stark weight of the black and white paper? I am thinking of the pieces in “Wakeby Night” and “Iceberg.” Do they all belong to the same narrative or do they work in and from different avenues?

Salazar: It may seem that way, but I wouldn’t say that I have turned away from color. In 2016 when I made those sculptures I was just getting used to the move from one studio to another. The first studio had an amazing print shop where it was easy for me to run color flats on paper components. Without having the advantages of printmaking, I have had to find new ways to add color into my work. I exercised this practice of painting and collaging found imagery onto paper by focusing on 2-D work in 2017. By coming back to a traditional way of working with paper, I was able to focus on new methods of applying color to the page.

Currently “Iceberg” is in the phase of becoming a new piece, “Arctic Turbulence,” for ArtPrize. It will include much of the original white forms with a gradual transition to a deep, royal blue. Simultaneously, I am working on another installation that delves into the intricacies of color. That piece will debut in 2018.

Simchak:  How did you get started in art and installation? Have you always been interested?

Salazar: Learning printmaking was a big push toward installation art because of the ability to make multiples. The quickness of making monotypes lended itself very well to making large scale works. Tired of my lack of direction in graduate school and feeling unchallenged by my then-current work, I made the very first cut into a stack of prints that had been sitting in flat files for several years.

Simchak: What is one of the most challenging things you face as a contemporary artist? One of the most rewarding?

Salazar: I think it is both challenging and rewarding to navigate the financial aspect of being an artist. This isn’t something that’s talked about often enough in the art world. Working as a full-time artist, you have to learn how to market yourself, brand yourself, and decide who your audience is while at the same time trying carefully not to give the (taboo) appearance of being a sell-out. The fact is, if an artist is to make a living by their work, they need to get paid. Once you find your niche and client base, however, it is very rewarding. I could not think of a dream greater than supporting yourself and your family by doing what you love.

Samantha Parker Salazar creates site-specific paper installations and mixed media works on paper. She received an MFA from The University of Texas at Austin in 2014 and a BFA from Bradley University in 2011. Salazar is based in Columbus, Ohio, and is currently a Studio Instructor at the Dayton Art Institute.

Courtney Simchak lives in Texas. She received a Bachelor of Arts in English from Texas State University in 2016 and has been the Visual Arts Editor for Newfound since 2014.

The post Carnage Garden: A Conversation with Samantha Parker Salazar appeared first on Newfound.

Each painting is a hand-printed photograph, screen printed with multiple layers of resin, ink and other materials, and then stretched around a round frame. These geographical studies take on an informative and thoughtful look into what marks we make as a species. In a recent discussion with Newfound, David shares his thoughts on his work, his artistic process and what influences him. You can see more of O’Brien’s work on his website.

Courtney Simchak: How did your Disc paintings get started? What was your inspiration for the series?

David O’Brien: The disc paintings began when I started getting serious about photographing the ground. They are a way to map and document the landscape from my own perspective. Each title is a set of GPS coordinates, accurate within a few feet of the photo.

If you look down at the ground in any given place, away from pavement, you’ll most likely find some mixture of grass, plants, earth and trash. No matter how far out in the woods you go you can still probably sift the dirt and find some bits of paper, or a little shred of plastic nearby. I’ve always been interested in watching buildings and machines decay and thinking about the lifespan of materials. Organic things regenerate so quickly and synthetic things often age incredibly slowly. So these little bits of trash are fascinating to me, just as much as the ruins of some great building. They are cultural and technological artifacts, markers that we’ve been here, destroyers at the chemical level.

Simchak: I feel like that is the danger in our capabilities as humans—the willingness to acknowledge the beauty of something, while also being able to recognize the power of its influence and, in this case, destruction: your work is beautiful, even with the message of sadness, astonishment. It has both the insight of poetry and the remoteness of observational notes. Would you consider these disc paintings as a series of rumination? Do you feel your work is as much scientific documentation as much as it is art?

O’Brien: Oh I don’t think that’s a danger at all. Being able to see both sides (or for that matter, many sides) of any human endeavor, in this case material waste and excess, is a positive thing. You have to strain to see all sides of an issue and spend time reflecting on them. Only then can you really act with intention.

You could call it a rumination or documentation, but I definitely would not call it science. It’s certainly guided by scientific though but the work itself isn’t a science project, it’s an art project. It asks different kinds of questions.

Simchak: You implement screen printing– a rather elaborate layering system of different mediums and inks– to print your photographs. How did this decision come about?

O’Brien: The process of getting photographs printed, mounted and framed was never fulfilling for me personally. It’s just too detached for me, too robotic, no offense to robots or print labs or photographers. I love photography but I wanted to find a way around it. I had gotten too deep into computers, I needed something hands-on, something where I could manipulate pigment directly, away from the filter of the computer, and yet still retain a connection to what’s essential about photography. Screen printing just fit. Of course I am still trying to find a way to make it my own, to take the medium in a different direction somehow. It’s a process.

Simchak: What do you find most satisfying and most frustrating about the screen printing process?

O’Brien: What is both frustrating and satisfying are the mistakes that can still happen, no matter how scientific the process. Serendipity is a big element in screen printing. There is always a moment of surprise when you lift a screen up. You never get two pieces exactly the same.
I’m also drawn to the fact that there is real physicality to the process. In the end you’re laying down acrylic paint on a wood panel. It takes some strength and focus to make each layer of a painting and I like that about it. The screens are big heavy objects that get thrown around, and the kind of pressure you apply when printing makes a real difference.

Simchak: I feel like your gravitation to the circular shape, versus the standard rectangular/square format amplifies that pull away from the daily digital influence of how we see images. The circle seems so anti-digital. So that kind of “worldly” shape combined with the tactile nature of ink and resin, really brings out the elemental aspects of your work. Your work in installation also seems to bring your work and experiences into a physical reality. Do you think this real-world element is why so many artists work in installation form, nowadays? Do you think you might work more with installations in the future?

O’Brien: Thank you. Yes and yes definitely.

Simchak: Time is very important to your work: the time the natural space takes to decompose (or not), the time it takes to photograph and the time it takes to impose the image onto the canvas during the printing process. Can you talk more about how this informs your work?

O’Brien: For me, nothing has ever come easy. I always feel like I have to work ten times harder and it’s still not enough. Probably for this reason I tend to appreciate work that is thoughtfully crafted, patient, and slow to unfold. I envy artists who can make things quickly and it works, I’ve just never been like that.

Time is invisible and unstoppable and it etches an impression on everything. For whatever reason I’m drawn to the impression time makes on materials, regardless of their origin, natural or otherwise. So I make paintings about everyday ruins. I study that process of decay and rebirth and attempt to gain some insight from it. Many of the places I’ve found are illegal dumping sites out in the desert, or houses left to cave in on themselves. Many are utterly unremarkable patches of land no one gives a thought to.

It’s possible that one day a landfill will be as valuable as a gold mine, if we ever learn how to harvest the embodied energy in all the things we’ve throw away. I feel there is some great opportunity there yet undiscovered. That’s what makes it poetic for me, matter is always changing in time and its value is always changing. Something new is always coming.

David O’Brien currently lives and works in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He has had solo exhibitions in Los Angeles, Berlin, and Santa Fe, as well as numerous group shows. His current practice makes use of video, photography, painting, and printmaking. David travels extensively and primarily documents found natural phenomena in unexpected ways. His work questions traditional views of waste, nature, human intervention in the landscape, and the passage of time.

Courtney Simchak was born in Albuquerque, NM and raised in Central Texas. She received a Bachelor of Arts in English from Texas State University in 2016. She has been the Visual Arts Editor for Newfound since 2014 and has an artistic background in drawing, printmaking and photography. Her work has shown in Austin and San Marcos.

The post In The Garden of Externalities: A Conversation with David O’Brien appeared first on Newfound.