Art is conversation. Art is thought. Art is expression. Art is feeling. Art is vulnerability. For these reasons and many that follow, I sought a way to better bridge the gap I felt existed between those who create and those who experience. I offer now an opportunity for those who create to experience, and those who experience to create. Meet the "Reflection Book" - an open invitation for visitors to express themselves after interacting with the work. At the end of each exhibition, I will provide the artist with these pages with the hope that they might experience their own creations through another's eyes. I will release one page at a time as the book, like most things organic, grows. Enjoy!
My fascination with machine parts might well be the basis for the habitual acquiescence to the "call of the junkyard". In this place, the multitudes of ruined and discarded parts are artifacts of our disposable culture, of our unquenchable persistence for the new. I am intrigued by the obsolete stuff and inspired by their burial grounds. Here lies the mechanical detritus reflecting the former "lives" of automobiles whose owner's egos came also to rest, metaphorically, in oily ignoble graveyards.
Scrap piles are the subject matter of this new body of work. Salvage is inspired by these objects that morph between mechanical and organic, reality and imagination. These are not acres of trash but rather mounds of matter moving through a transitional state; at times emerging with qualities that seem oddly human.
Will these old parts become something new? Will we?
Reilly Jensen (artist statement: "Salvage" exhibition at Abmeyer + Wood)
Ann Mallory "Higher Ground" Review by Vanguard Seattle
Across the street, Ann Malloryâs monumental ceramic sculptures are placid beauties that also have an indirect nascence in Japan, albeit an even more mysterious and tragic one. After the devastating Touhoku Tsunami in 2011, giant stone slabs were found unearthed by the waves. These stones are speculated to have been placed centuries and centuries before as warning markers, indicating the point at which it was no longer safe to build because of the threat of tsunamis. Malloryâs show Higher Ground is partly inspired by these ancient monoliths, but goes beyond the association with tragedy and the literal higher ground. These objects have a warmth, a weight and gravity that instills peace and serenity to all who come in contact with them.
Visitors are encouraged to touch these massive works, which Mallory piled up over months of work. The drying process alone takes many weeks before they can be fired, and when Mallory fires them it is a harrowing process that lasts about 36 hours. And then comes the glaze, which is a science in itself, and Malloryâs choices are utterly lush. These are works to which no picture can ever do justice, as even beyond the physical details and feel of them, each âstoneâ has a presence and personality all its own. The Casing series inspired by cocoons is absolutely dreamyâŠmight even be eerie in its beautifully grooved egg shapes. They seem to be better suited for indoor spaces, but all of Malloryâs worksâlike those monoliths that withstood the tsunamiâare made to weather elements and would be utterly stunning in a garden space. The contemplation vessels have dipped surfaces to capture water, which will allow the interaction with nature to extend to other life.
The hum of a spinning wheel, two hands giving direction to a malleable surface, the subtle undertone of percussion as foot meets pedal.... this is the orchestra behind Ann Mallory's ceramic creations. The transformation of block to vessel is a skill Ann has not only mastered, but evolved. The medium of ceramics is most widely known for its functionality: bowls that hold, plates that present, vases that decorate.... Ann internalizes the function of her works, seeking to be a focal point to rest oneâs mind and inspire imagination differently in its stillness. These Stones, Vessels and Casings, derived from ancient shapes of containment, now stand to metaphorically contain ideas, meditations, and reveries.
In her studio, Ann is the conductor, but her sculptures, brought to life through the evolution of both medium and idea, are the music. And if you listen closely enough, you might recognize the song as your own.Â
As an artist, Ann Mallory is emotionally moved to express the joys and sorrows of being human. Although she might have selected paint, prose or poetry as her medium of expression, she chose the "sensual, impression-arresting" material of clay, which, she believes, is uniquely suited to receiving and recording human feelings.
Jane King Hession, Architectural Historian, Writer, Curator
(Excerpt #2) Ford Crullâs Luminous Mysteries, Essay by Carter Ratcliff
In 1943, [Wolfgang Paalen, a Surrealist], tried to explain how abstraction emerges from our earliest attempts to picture the world. Writing in an artists' magazine called DYN, he argued thatÂ
We can ascertain successive stages of consciousness: in order to pass from emotion to abstraction, man is obliged, in the maturation of each individual to pass through the ancestral stratification of thought... and that is why we find in everyone's childhood an attitude toward the world that is similar to that of the totemic mind.Â
At the Bauhaus, Kandinsky found himself increasingly surrounded by theorists and ideologues who insisted that much in the realm of the aesthetic is absolute. Rigid rules for art can be formulated, and the artist's task can be assigned and executed with impersonal precision. Finally, Kandinsky left the Bauhaus, choosing to spend the latter part of his career in Paris, unaffiliated and free to pursue his intuitions wherever they took him.Â
When Kandinsky lamented the mechanistic, materialist tone that had infiltrated his world - and much of the art of his times - he was repeating complaints that had become routine during the previous century. Artists concerned with the spirit were troubled especially by the obsessively precise realism, with its almost photographic rendering of details, that had become so prevalent in the 1800s. No artist expressed those misgivings more powerfully than the Symbolist painter Odilon Redon, who is among Crull's favorite predecessors. As a student, Redon had studied with Jean Leon Gerome, the era's most obsessively accurate realist.Â
From the outset, student and teacher clashed. In his "Confessions of an Artist," written in 1909, Redon recalled that Gerome "exhorted me to enclose within a contour a form that I myself saw as quivering. Under the pretext of simplification...he made me close my eyes to the light and neglect the vision of substances." Fighting his way free, Redon arrived at what he called "an art of suggestion." Art of this kind, he saidÂ
Exists more fully, more radiantly, in the excitations of music... but, by transposing and changing the forms, by combining diverse elements and creating wholes that have an organic logic of their own, although they do not obey the laws of the naturalistic world, I have made this art mine, too... My drawings are not intended to define anything: they inspire. They make no statements and set no limits. They lead, like music, into an ambiguous world where there is no cause and no effect.Â
Turning away from a world made frantic by commerce and technological innovation, Redon invented a new world filled with an atmosphere of serene contemplation. One finds a comparable quietude in the art of Paul Gauguin and his Symbolist colleagues, Paul Serusier and Maurice Denis. Though Crull admires all these painters, he finds it impossible to follow them into the zone of peacefulness they created. Since Redon wrote his "Confessions...," technology has advanced immeasurably. And, in alliance with the media, it has become ever more intrusive. Rather than retreat from these accelerating forces, with their threat of depersonalization, Crull confronts them. And, it seems, he lets these forces into his art - or cannot keep them out. At first glance, his paintings look like mirrors of our hectic moment. Colors smear, patterns are disrupted, shapes are distorted by the gravitational pull of others nearby. Almost, but not quite, lines form themselves into words. When words do appear, they are not always legible. Colliding with inarticulate forms or getting lost in fogs of high-keyed color, sentences become fragmentary phrases, phrases disintegrate. There is much to track, to trace, in Crull's paintings. He has said, "I want the imagery to stay alive, to keep moving, because I want your eye to keep moving constantly. There a red story to follow, a green story, a yellow story."
(Excerpt #1) Ford Crull's Luminous Mysteries, Essay by Carter Ratcliff
One tends to assume that all artists seek freedom, yet this is a bit of wishful thinking. Though the era of strict doctrine and rigid ideology is long past, many artists - perhaps most - still look for an authority from which to take dictation. For some, the demands of the marketplace point the way. Others find guidance in some version of art history. Few contemporary painters are willing as Ford Crull to trust themselves, to put themselves at the mercy of their own intuitions. Crull has said that, as he paints, he never  knows exactly what he is doing, and sometimes cannot remember how he managed to obtain a certain effect or even what certain symbols meant to him when they appeared in his art for the first time. About the wing one sees at the edge of [When You Wish II (1998)] and elsewhere he comments:
Maybe it's the wing of something leaving, or of something wanting to appear. Maybe it represents freedom. It might be the wing of a bird, an angel. It may represent not only freedom but the fleetingness of freedom... I can't be sure. The surfaces of these paintings build up over time. I paint, draw, write, spread on the paint with a palette knife - sometimes I scratch into the buildup. The painting evolves, and I often feel that it's ahead of me....
At that point, looking can begin, and if one trusts one's intuitions as completely as the artist trusts his, one's looking will be a reinvention of what is seen. In tracing the nuances of Crull's art, in all its individuality, each viewer will take imaginary possession of the image. And in the process the viewer gets a glimpse of his or her own, irreducibly individual feelings and beliefs.Â
The ambiguities of [Ford] Crullâs art have a double purpose. First, they demonstrate with endless finesse the complexity of his experience, his being. Next, they provide each of us with an opportunity to respond in the manner dictated by our own feelings and concerns. Crull invites us to be ourselves.
Lately, I have been considering bravery. Not in the context of soldier or knight, but rather in the context of artist, creator. To put pen to paper is a commitment. It says âhere begins my journey on this canvas.â Once you have left a mark on that coordinate, the creation process has been initiated. Even if you say âI changed my mind, Iâm starting hereâ â the original mark is now dormant, not eradicated. Sure - you can cover it up. But the mark sits there under the surface, maintaining its moment in history as the first brave step in the final creation.
I admire this truth behind painting. As I observe video recordings of Ford Crullâs works in progress, I see the brush dance across his canvas without hesitation. It is almost as if Crull is but the facilitator to his inner inspiration, his soul guiding his arms and body as he moves. Once his brush makes the initial mark, he has committed to embarking, to evolving, to creating. The works that rise from his inspirations are visually magnificent. But what is most magnificent to me, is the bravery it took to begin â to make a mark. And this, ultimately, is what makes Ford Crull a true creator.Â
To even attempt a definition of art today seems almost insurmountable. But what might be more reasonable is to seek some understanding of the issues that are prevalent in our current artistic climate. - Essay by Ford Crull
âThe painting evolves, and I often feel that itâs ahead of me. It begins to go in a certain direction and I donât always have anything to say about it. I want to put an image here, and the painting says, no, it goes there. At a certain point it tells me that itâs complete.â
The Hypnotherapist and the Painting : An Internal Conversation
Surrounded daily by the work of Ford Crull, I find myself hypnotized by the colors, bold brushstrokes, and vocabulary of forms. People often say âit speaks to meâ or ask âwhat speaks to you?â when discussing art. When it comes to Ford Crull, I wouldnât say the work speaks to me as much as it invites me to partake in an internal conversation â it encourages me to speak to myself.
My first visitor today was a hypnotherapist. Â He entered the gallery, introduced himself, walked about the paintings for a moment, and then returned to describe his line of work. âThese probably wouldnât do well in my office,â he said. I could agree: Â Fordâs work isnât famous for its calming power. The hypnotherapist and I embarked on a short conversation about Fordâs use of symbolism, dramatic color, and unpredictable composition. âI just donât know how they would do in a relaxed and peaceful space,â he restated. At this point, I shared with him what we had written to represent this exhibition:
There is a strong diaristic quality to Crullâs work, with each painting serving as a kind of painterly journal of reflections and reveries, set loose from their origins in specific events. In a wider sense, these paintings constitute a kind of intensive search to wrest meaning from the anarchy of feeling. As meditations on emotional chaos, they enter into a world of competing impulses and simultaneous transmissions, seeking a resolution that is both cathartic and mysterious.
To this, he responded with a question: âWould you like to be hypnotized?â I felt this was probably not the most relevant response to the description of Fordâs paintings, but decided to answer the call of adventure and accept his offer. He began the session by asking me to imagine a blanket of relaxation falling over my body, starting at the head, ending at the toes. As the session continued, he asked me to close my eyes and go into a deep sleep - I do not sleep in front of strangers nor do I find it appropriate to sleep at work, so I made a conscious decision to pretend. He then called upon my unconscious: âWhat are burdens you feel labor your life?â My (secretly conscious) unconscious replied, âI worry.â Â In my pretend state of unconsciousness, I surprised myself with a very not-pretend answer.
For the next 20 minutes, the hypnotherapist and my âunconsciousâ discussed my worry, verbally kneading it away like a tightened neck muscle. âOn the count of three, you will awaken with no conscious recollection of what we have talked about,â he explained. âBut you, Emilyâs unconscious, will remember: you will no longer worry about things you are not in control of, you will live in the present, you will be vigilant, you will feel fantastic.â One, two, three â I open my eyes with a look of surprise. I did feel present. I did feel vigilant. And surrounded by Ford Crullâs paintings, I was âIn the Realm of the Fantastic.â
Feeling accomplished, the hypnotherapist shook my hand and bid me farewell. Alone again, I looked around at the paintings on the wall, realizing what perhaps the hypnotherapist had not: they were colleagues. Both hypnotherapist and painting discovered a place within me where my unconscious and conscious partook in dialogue. Both hypnotherapist and painting asked me to meditate on emotional chaos, entering âinto a world of competing impulses and simultaneous transmissions, seeking a resolution that is both cathartic and mysterious.â So, perhaps the hypnotherapist was right: these paintings would not do well in his office. But today, we shared an office. And today, I feel fantastic. Â
Ford Crull discusses his work during a studio visit by curators of a show for the Roger Smith Hotel. Three works in this short video are hanging in our gallery for the entire month of July!
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
prguitarman
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton