#studio&

[practicalsmagic]

Maisie Williams wearing 1965 Balenciaga and an archive Christian Dior purse.

[practicalsmagic]

Maisie Williams wearing 1996 archival Vivienne Westwood styled by STUDIO&

[studioand]

Studio & Turns 6:

Play dress-up, get creative with your formal attire, and come to Studio& this Friday, March 11th to help us celebrate turning 6!  Since March 11, 2010, it has been our pleasure to serve Durango with exhibitions, concerts, performances, classes, and conversations that couldn’t have been possible without the participation and engagement of our community.  Please join us as we say THANK YOU for making the last six years possible.   

[lularojas-blog]

Amigos - Transeúnte - Visitantes Transeúnte Studio&Shop Ituzaingo 1285 B° Nueva Córdoba (X5000IJY) Córdoba, Argentina Tel. [phone] [email protected] www.transeunte.net

[visualpractitioner]

Extinct :: The Art of Obsolescence

Pictured above: "X" - ink on paper, approximately 4' x 6', $125 SOLD Extinct Tool (tool that was not used): My 1969 Olivetti Valentine Typewriter

When invited to create a piece for the Extinct show, I knew immediately what I needed to create because the tool that has inspired me the most this past year (and throughout my life) has been the typewriter.

According to Studio &:

Each artist is asked to produce a piece of artwork pertaining to the theme of extinction or obsolescence. Each artist was asked to identify a major tool that they use in the making of their art. The artist is then asked to make their piece as if this tool were extinct.

Backstory

When was the first time you used a typewriter? When was the last?

The typewriter has made its way back into our culture thanks to hipsters and street typists. And to some traditional writers, the typewriter never died.

The year was 1982 when I received a printmaking kit that allowed me to typeset 8 characters at a time and stamp them onto paper with ink. Immediately I felt the limitation of only working with 36 point type. It was at that time that my mom dusted off her powder blue Smith Corona and showed me how to set the tabs. I already knew how to type from owning an Apple IIc, but I didn't have a printer. Perhaps this kit and the old typewriter was a cheap substitute to keep me occupied. With tabs, it was easy to type columns of text and use the large type as headlines. Using scissors and tape, I filled the pages with short stories, poems, and the school lunch menu. When there was a white space to be filled, in came a quote, joke, or pencil drawing of my cat, Iggie. My mom published my first attempt by making twenty, two-sided, 11"x17" copies from my four pages of fodder--enough copies for everyone in my fourth grade class and a few extra for teachers and kids on the bus. I delivered on a Wednesday and by Friday my classmates were hungry for more. So I spent the weekend refining the comic strip I had been working on that summer and featured "Peewee and Chubbs" in the first paid issue with the hand-drawn masthead that read "The Penny Paper". The comic was not influenced by the famous Mr. Herman, but an invention of my own inspired by Popeye because these two knuckleheads were always fighting (over pie) and chasing the girl.

It didn't take long for my publication to become extinct. With a mountain of content to work with--as submissions from other kids were coming in everyday--it was obvious that I couldn't keep publishing for a penny a copy when the cost of printing was much more than that. It was my father who suggested that I get advertisers to keep me afloat. He generously paid me $20 for a month's worth of ads in my weekly rag. His business was a recycling center so I drew up a crumpled can (thinking the organic shape would create more white space and draw the reader's attention) and wrote the words, "We Buy Cans, 25 cents per pound, at Leavitt's Recycling, 1512 S. 2nd St." He liked the ad so much, he ran it for years in the local newspaper--changing the price to reflect the current market value of aluminum, of course.

But when the advertising dried up, it was time to quit. As a country kid, I could only go so far on my bike to round up supporters and my audience was too small to justify advertising from larger companies. Five issues and I was out. Looking back, I realize all kinds of opportunities I could have taken to increase distribution through my schoolmates, grow the reading audience by writing more broadly, attract more advertisers, etc. The local paper even gave my dad a small piece of transparent linescreen that I could put over the pictures I shot with my Kodak Instamatic so my pictures would copy nicely. But it was too late. I closed up shop and focused my attention to coding on my Apple IIc. The typewriter went back into the closet and was never to be seen again.

However, a typewriter of some kind has always made it back into my life somehow. After college, I couldn't afford a computer so I bought an electric typewriter at the thrift store to type up my resume and cover letters to accompany slides of my artwork for sending out to galleries. It had a memory chip that stored files that could be printed on command. How else could 200 customized letters be printed at once? That effort got me two solo shows, several groups shows, and gallery representation in my first year out of college--it was the start of my art career. A decade later, I wanted to relive my childhood dream of being a publisher--that's what prompted me to start Arts Perspective magazine. The use of laptops, cell phones, and coffee shops made all of that possible. The typewriter took a leave of absence in my process until 2013 when the love of my life bought me an Olivetti Valentine for my birthday. This beautiful tool inspired me to create a new font and turned me into a seasonal huckster of words. With my street typing friends, Kate Skrainka and Crystal Hartman, Saturdays this past fall were full of poems, free writes, and exquisite corpses. We were transformed from oddity to staple on the sidewalk in front of Open Shutter Gallery.

So without a typewriter, what would I do? Continue to press ink to paper, in some form or another, I guess.

Extinct: The Art of Obsolescence An invitational show featuring 26 regional artists. February 21-March 2, 2014 Friday, February 21, 2014 • 5-9pm – Opening Reception

Durango Herald printed an article about the show here.