Alex Gingrow

Hmph. Well. I guess everything can't be for everyone, 2012, Graphite and acrylic on paper, 22" x 30"

Hmph. Well. I guess everything can’t be for everyone, 2012, Graphite and acrylic on paper, 22″ x 30″

I tend to be very organized and compartmentalized in both daily life and my artistic pursuits.  That, mixed with an overwhelming resistance to being pigeon-holed for one particular type of work, leads me to work serially in my studio practice.  I have been working on my most recent series of sticker paintings for approximately four years.  In this series, I appropriate provenance stickers, which I collect from my day job at a frame shop in Manhattan, with my own name, title, media, date, and dimensions. The appropriated titles correspond directly with the gallery sticker and are typically snippits of conversations overheard at my shop, galleries or fairs, or are statements that I would like to pass along to the respective galleries myself.  To date, there are about 45 works in this series and many more in the sketchbook to be completed over the coming months and years.

However, in the meantime, I feel that I am also ready to start working on a new body of work so as to keep things fresh and new and to push myself outside of my comfort zone. I have begun working on a new project that will tentatively be comprised of endurance video, paintings, installation, costume design, model building, and, in my dream of all dreams, performance–but only if I had unlimited funds and perhaps a cold environment. The new series deals with personal narrative, family history, and ice skating. This image is a still, shot from the computer screen, of a test video that may become an endurance based, looped film. The object is a crystal ball with an ice skater laser etched inside in the position of a Biellman spin. When I spin the ball, the skater appears to be spinning. However, the ball is not attached to the base and so eventually the skater spins off axis and ends up seeming to somersault with her leg pulled high above her head.  -Alex Gingrow, 2013

William Crump

Rise After Rise Bow the Phantoms Behind Me, 2012, linen, wood frame, glass, brass, gouache, flash, various dimensions

Rise After Rise Bow the Phantoms Behind Me, 2012, linen, wood frame, glass, brass, gouache, flash, various dimensions

Claude Monet, Rouen Cathedral, West Façade, Sunlight, 1894, oil on canvas, 50 1/4 x 36 in.

Claude Monet, Rouen Cathedral, West Façade, Sunlight, 1894, oil on canvas, 50 1/4 x 36 in.

There were a very few specific works by Monet I saw in Paris last summer while at the Musée d’Orsay. Namely, his paintings of the Rouen Cathedral. Those pieces had a huge impact on me from the start. As I approached my painting last year, I had those pieces in mind. It’s hard to get a sense of how powerful those works are from one jpeg, but standing in front of them, they looks as if they were painted yesterday. I wanted to steal as much as I could from that experience. My work I’ve included here attempts to capture something of that same spirit. –William Crump, 2013

Matt Mignanelli

Heavy Load, 2012, Gloss and matte black enamel on canvas, 72 x 60 inches

Heavy Load, 2012, Gloss and matte black enamel on canvas, 72 x 60 inches

 

Studies for Low and Grattan Street II, 2012, Gloss and matte black enamal on paper, 8.5 x 5 inches

Studies for Low and Grattan Street II, 2012, Gloss and matte black enamal on paper, 8.5 x 5 inches

As part of my practice I began creating these studies on paper as intermediary works between pencil drawings and the paintings. All of my work is painted completely free hand, but extremely tight. These studies give me an opportunity and a freedom to work out ideas quickly and loosely. They have begun to stand alone and become works on their own, but I love the fact they are simply byproducts created out of pure necessity.This departure from the delicate object a painting becomes is liberating for me in the studio. –Matt Mignanelli, 2013

 

 

Tirtzah Bassel

A mask will appear from above you, oil on canvas, 48”x60”, 2012

A mask will appear from above you, oil on canvas, 48”x60”, 2012

Airport In Security (installation view), duct tape on wall, 44’x12’, 2012

Airport In Security (installation view), duct tape on wall, 44’x12’, 2012

Last year a friend challenged me to recreate images from my paintings using a medium I had never used before. The night before she came, I picked up a few rolls of duct tape that were lying around my studio and was immediately turned on by the countless possibilities it offered as an artistic medium. Using subtle differences in tone and transparency I molded the tape into figures and forms, creating a highly tactile surface that engaged the line between drawing and sculpture. Soon I was transforming these images into large-scale duct tape installations rendered directly on gallery walls. The limitations dictated by the size, color and opacity of the tape challenged me to capitalize on the possibilities that each stroke presented. The large scale of the pieces and the short time frame I had for these site-specific installations were new to me and pushed me to work in a clear and concise manner. My subject matter, Airport Security or the transient space of the subway, resonate with the duct tape’s allusion to things held together temporarily in emergency situations.

Strangely, not only did the duct tape whet my appetite for oil paint, it also shifted something fundamental in the way I relate to painting. Back in the studio I began to pay closer attention to the characteristics of each color as I squeeze it out of the tube. Rather than coerce the paint, I use its inherent limitations to propel me forward. I tackle larger surfaces and complete paintings in shorter time frames. When images from my duct tape installations creep into my paintings I ask: what can paint tell me about these images that the duct tape has not revealed? In turn, images that develop in paintings feed into the next round of duct tape installations. At this point, as I move continuously between duct tape and oil, it is hard to say which is the body and which is the buddy.  –Tirtzah Bassel, 2013

Tirtzah’s recent duct tape installation is on display at ROOMS through February 14th 2013.

Claire Sherman

Tree, 9 x 14’, Oil on Canvas, 2012

Tree, 9 x 14’, Oil on Canvas, 2012

 

Trees, 20 x 15”, Xerox Transfer and Collage on Paper, 2012

Trees, 20 x 15”, Xerox Transfer and Collage on Paper, 2012

The first work is a large painting from 2012:  Tree.  The second piece is from a recent project I completed at Aurobora in San Francisco.  It is a combination of collage and Xerox transfer on paper.  I am working on a series of large tree paintings in which the Redwood fills the entire surface, becoming an abstraction.  Alternatively, the Xerox transfer is a new medium for me that I see as an extension of how I think about the relationship between image, abstraction, process, and material in painting.  I hope to make a lot more of these.  I think of them as a form of drawing as I investigate this new series of work.  -Claire Sherman, 2013

Amanda Church

In Road, 2012, oil on canvas, 72" x 80"

In Road, 2012, oil on canvas, 72″ x 80″

 

Foam, photograph

Foam, photograph

I have been thinking lately about image and self-image and also perception and misperception. These thoughts have led to the distorted silhouettes I have been depicting in recent paintings: bodies without heads, with deformed limbs and ambiguous genitalia, either on their own or in pairs. These are not meant to horrify; on the contrary they are alluring in their strange eroticism. The first in this series was In Road, 2012, oil on canvas, 72 x 80″, which was taken from a photo I took at the end of a beautiful beach day. Since then I have been working from photos I have either taken or found, using them essentially as starting points until there is often little left of them in the resulting paintings. –Amanda Church, 2012

Joanne Mattera

Diamond Life 23, 2012, encaustic on panel, 25 x 25 inches

Sistering the Rafters 1-24, 2012, graphite on Fabriano 300-lb hotpress, each 22 x 30 inches

I work in a style that is reductive and geometric. My primary work is painting, primarily encaustic on panel. My secondary work, which I do each summer, is painting on paper, either with gouache made thin and grainy with water, or graphite powder suspended in alcohol. Where encaustic is hot and process intensive, gouache and graphite are cool, direct, and light on the brush. Usually color is the focus of my work, but after a series of monochromatic paintings in the spring—elongated diamonds within a square diamond field—I had a hankering to work achromatically in graphite. I transitioned onto paper, creating a series of interacting diamonds afloat on a field of indeterminate space. Despite the restricted palette, the work looks like color in black and white. I surprised myself. I love when that happens.  –Joanne Mattera, 2012

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