All of this combines to make Jon Rappleye’s new exhibition, “Land of Promise,” the must-see show of the fall.

Midori Yoshimoto, director of galleries at New Jersey City University, says Rappleye is one of the most exciting artists currently living and working in Jersey City.

“I didn’t know of his work until I saw his solo show at [Jersey City Museum] several years ago,” Yoshimoto says. “I was awestruck then to find such a gem in [Jersey City].

“Rappleye’s paintings of constructed nature are fantastic and fairy tale-like, but at the same time, contain contortions, tensions, and suspense as if something horrifying were to occur.”

Rappleye’s paintings read like fables on acid.

In his painting, “In the Land of Promise, In the Land of Famine,” a proboscis monkey is caught between two worlds as it crouches in the mouth of a tree. In the foreground, a throng of animals – both real and imagined – encircle the monkey in seeming chaos. At the perimeter, anthropomorphic shapes and neon flashes explode like psychedelic patterns in a kaleidoscope. In the background, a bucolic landscape is revealed, which features pale blue skies and pristine mountain peaks.

Minute details appear throughout the work; the scenic vista in the back is as clear and precise as the figures in the front, while the bark of the tree and the wrinkles on the monkey’s face have been finely rendered.

In “Sheltered in Nature’s Benevolence,” (seen at left) a baby gorilla embraces its mother as they sit in the nook of a tree. To the left and right, butterflies and birds flutter against open skies. The picture brings to mind Renaissance altarpieces of the enthroned Virgin and Child. As we look closer, the mood turns darker. Like bookends, two skeletons sit on either side of mother and baby, their heads cocked to the side as if in conversation. In the distance emerges a confluence of storm clouds. Like memento mori, Rappleye’s work reminds us of our mortality and of the brevity of life in the face of God and nature.

Rappleye draws inspiration from his native Utah, with its lunar landscapes and atmospheric light. His other muses come from art history, photography, the Internet and literature. Like the Flemish Renaissance painters Rogier Van der Weyden and Jan Van Eyck, the hallmarks of his work include attention to detail, craftsmanship, and inventiveness. Though his work appears deliberate, Rappleye allows for intuition and spontaneity to help inform his imagery.

If you go to one exhibition this season in Jersey City or New York, make it Jon Rappleye’s “Land of Promise” at New Jersey City University’s Harold B. Lemmerman Gallery.

Details:
Jon Rappleye
: Land of Promise

November 2 – December 14, 2011


Artist’s Reception: November 10, 2011, 4:30 – 7:30 pm
Artist Talk: November 10, 2011, 5:30 pm (in the gallery)



Photos of “Astounding in Infinite Awe and Wonder” and “Sheltered in Nature’s Benevolence” courtesy of the artist.

Entering the elegantly renovated rooms of the Museum for Russian Art (MoRA), the secret was revealed quickly. The pieces hanging on the walls showed a refined sense for classical painting technique, extensive schooling, an eye for historical references and a strong feel for European art-symbolism. MoRA is currently exhibiting two contemporary Russian/Eastern European artists who take the viewer on a stunning travel to strangely familiar places.

Voskanjan Andrey Valerevich, better known as Gasoyan in art-world circles, was born in Yerevan, Armenia in 1981. A former republic of the Soviet Union, Armenia is located at the crossroads of Western Asia and Eastern Europe. Gasoyan received his main art schooling after the collapse of the Soviet Union, ultimately making him a young Russian painter with a strong appreciation for the great European masters of the earlier 20th century, a genre far removed from the style of Socialist Realism that influenced generations of Soviety painters. The oppression of artistic freedom in the Soviet Union generated an entire arts movement, Soviet Nonconformist Art, with formidable representatives such as Serov and avant-garde expressionist Anatoly Zverev.

Gasoyan: ‘Era’s Portrait’

In his work, Gasoyan borrows. He takes the ability to express human emotions with basic brush strokes from symbolist painter Paul Gauguin; his sometimes-frantic approach from Vincent van Gogh; an undeniable predilection for themes such as love, fear, death and anxiety from Edvard Munch; and the precision and strong intuition for colors from Wassily Kandinsky. What turns these combined elements into a “Gasoyan” is the artist’s sense for space, surprising perspectives, his unconventional use of color and the brave ease with which he introduces loneliness to his artwork.

The MoRA’s current exhibition inspires in part because director Margo Grant understands the value in bringing together two different, but complementary, schools of thought.

Udita Leberg-Shapiro was born in the western Ukraine city of Uzghorod in 1955, and her obvious artistic talent was pushed along early in life by her parents and the Soviet government. In 1965, when she was just 10 years old, the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Cultural Affairs in Moscow gave her a solo exhibition and dubbed her a child prodigy at a press conference. She later went to art schools in Moscow, Budapest, New York and Jerusalem, and immigrated to the US in 1974. She lives now in Fair Lawn with her family, and is a devoted art and music teacher.

Udita Leberg-Shapiro: ‘The Piano Bar’

Leberg’s pieces are profoundly elegant, with a deep, timeless connection to the old world and an extraordinary skill to express life and liveliness in somber colors. Talking with her at the museum, she seemed almost apologetic for the way Soviet politics limited her use of bright colors earlier in her career.

“I would have loved to paint like Joan Miró, the way he uses colors,” she said. “But we had very strict teachers.”

Leberg’s story is that of a gifted young woman who learned early to follow the rules set by an oppressive regime. But, like so many others, she found her own ways around the oppression.

“I did my own paintings on the side, but I couldn’t show them at school,” she said, smiling astutely.

THE DETAILS

This exhibition is up though Sunday, September 25, at the Museum of Russian Art, 80 Grand Street. For more information, click here.

We caught up with Daly, who now calls Hoboken home, as he made some final preparations for a new exhibition of his landscape paintings in the Brodsky Gallery at The Heldrich Hotel in New Brunswick. The show, called Big Meadows, opens June 28, with an opening reception from 6 to 8 pm. The exhibition will be on display through Labor Day.

DALY’S WORK:

When did you begin to paint and draw?

I liked to draw as a kid, got more serious through high school and went to the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan for two years in the early ‘70s. Minimalism and conceptual art held sway in the art world at that time and since painting was “dead” almost no one taught about techniques and tools, and no one at all was interested in landscape painting. I dropped out with the idea I could continue out there on my own.

You are known for your paintings and drawings of northern New Jersey, the Meadowlands, and its immediate environs. New Jersey is often labeled the armpit of America, and the Meadowlands have often been described as the most disgusting place in the world. Why have you devoted your life’s work to this contentious place?

Some dopes still like to dump on New Jersey; it’s always been stupid. What a bore. As a kid I wandered around the meadows with my friends. In the reeds and along the creeks, it was a wild place, uncontrolled. Not dangerous but full of surprises.

I worked at postal facilities in Kearny and Jersey City, both of them planted in the meadows. I walked and hitchhiked through that landscape twice a day, flat and watery with black iron bridges, the local big sky country with relentless nature — just being herself — and filling every void. I was pursuing painting on my own, looking at art constantly and looking for an authentic subject for myself that, with observation, I might learn how to paint. Eventually I came to realize the meadows were a worthy subject. Things have evolved, attitudes too, and a fetid swamp became in fact and in people’s minds a valued wetland. And it’s full of amazing birds.

How exactly are the Meadowlands “not dangerous, but full of surprises?”

It’s less so now, but in the past random roadside dumping provided some memorable sights: a large bag of mysterious pharmaceuticals made a funky snapshot, elsewhere, the remains of a feast or sacrifice included a pig’s skull with a neat round bullet hole in the back. Under a Route 7 bridge I found a teenager’s party spot complete with a huge pot leaf spraypainted on a support. An eclectic array of chairs and mattresses completed the picture. I did make a drawing from this spot. I’ve seen movie location scouts, bow hunters, bird watchers, Chinese fishermen and an abandoned makeshift tent. The mosquitoes at night must be murderous. Once, at late twilight, in shallow water I saw what looked like an enormous snake, it’s back breaking the surface in four or five places, slowly gliding. I kept looking. It was a bunch of big sluggish carp all lined up. And always in the summer, dozens and dozens of white egrets in what by now is their breeding ground and home base.

Access becomes more and more limited, railroad and turnpike workers are locking gates these days but some determined people still find their way in. I should make clear that these meadows are the Hackensack meadows, all the water is Hackensack River water, ebbing and flowing, tidal. All of the many great bridges are there to get over the Hackensack River water. It might not look like much but it is a powerful presence.

You’ve spent a lot of time in the Meadowlands. Do you have a favorite memory that epitomizes this place for you?

Walking down a narrow trail between the phragmites reeds, turning a corner and coming face to face with a great blue heron that was as surprised as I was. Five feet tall with an 18″ beak, he spread enormous wings and with two slow, noisy wing beats rose straight above me.

The Sopranos debuted on HBO in January 1999. As I watched the opening credits, I experienced an acute sense of déjà vu. I had seen this imagery, landscape, and scenery before, and I had seen it in your studio, in your paintings, prints, and drawings. It was as if the creators of the Sopranos animated your paintings. Do you see a relationship between your work and David Chase, the creator of the show? What is your opinion of how Chase depicted the tenor of our landscape?

Talk about déjà vu; the minute-long drive in the opening credits covered most of the locations that I’d painted for years. I was thrilled and taken aback thinking “Hey, that’s mine!” I think Chase and the whole Sopranos team really got New Jersey, certainly the Hudson and Bergen County landscapes. I worked as a scenic artist on the Sopranos for a few weeks on season five. I was a big fan of the show and it’s always interesting behind the scenes.

Jersey City-based artist/curator Tom McGlynn included you in his exhibition Arcadia Now: Contemporary Art In Country at Christine Price Gallery in Vermont. In his curator’s essay, he quotes this passage from the book Walden by Henry David Thoreau: “From the desperate city you go to the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats.” Does this quote resonate with you? If so, how and why? And what does it have to do with your work?

It does. Even the abused meadows were still the natural world that has always attracted me, as a kid and today. I think humans need to be in and observe nature. Parks are fine for most. Some of us need to go farther.

At 56, you are still in the game, having built a life and profession around art and art making. Museums and galleries have featured your work in solo and group exhibitions. NJ Transit commissioned you to create 32 mural paintings for the Secaucus Transfer Station. Public and private collectors have sought your work for more than two decades. The New Jersey State Council on the Arts has awarded you four fellowships for excellence. I am interested in the day-to-day realities of this stuff. What type of income streams and revenue sources do you need to cultivate to sustain a career as a contemporary painter?

Being an artist, you might make a fortune but you can’t make a living. I’ve been lucky to sell much of my work over the years mostly from my studio — but it was never quite enough. I’ve been a freelance union scenic artist working on movies, TV and commercials since 2000. It’s on and off so there is time to paint. Also, the painting techniques I learned as a scenic apprentice have helped my personal work enormously. All of the artists I know make a living from something other than or in addition to the sale of their work. Many teach, although many of the traditional perks of academia have faded away, so it’s tougher now. In the end, painting must be it’s own reward.

Let’s discuss Jersey City a bit. You were born and raised in the Heights, and you graduated from Hudson Catholic. How has the city changed since you were a kid?

Jersey City has become the destination for immigrants from around the world and for many it’s really a refuge. When I was growing up Cuban and Puerto Rican people were the exotic new arrivals. Now there are sizable communities from Turkey, India, Pakistan and Egypt, South Asia, Africa and Central and South America and these new Americans all bring their cuisine with them. The dining possibilities are huge.

Artists have arrived in large numbers giving the city the kind of critical mass that could make it a contender with Williamsburg as a cultural destination. The danger is succeeding too well and getting priced out of your own newly gentrifying neighborhoods. Artists are, like it or not, the sharp edge of the real estate wedge that breaks old urban neighborhoods. They provide the buzz that developers and real estate agents crave to make property more attractive and valuable. Downtown Jersey City is an example of this. Inevitably, development will happen. Sometimes it’s beneficial to more than the owner. Artists need to be active citizens and be aware of the effect their presence has on the community to blunt the worst effects and further the good.

What are a few of the buried stories in Jersey City, and what do they reveal about the character of our city?

When I was a kid there were honest-to-god ducktail haircuts wearing, smokes folded up in the T-shirt sleeve, high school dropout juvenile delinquent greasers who ruled a little candy store around the corner from our home. Occasionally, the little old man owner would try to turn down the jukebox and regain control. They just laughed. I suppose they are all still somewhere in Jersey City, those that survived.

I only have the thread of a few tiny mysteries like that fading with time but I found Richard Price’s novel Clockers really interesting. I love the statue behind City Hall of the generic motorcycle cop up high on a plinth, ready to break heads, a symbol from the age of dictatorial mayor and arch criminal Frank Hague. Helene Stapinski’s fascinating memoir Five Finger Discount is soon to be a movie, I hear. The story of a century of Democratic Party hegemony, the corruption and wasted opportunities, a tragedy. The story of 111 First Street, the artist’s building, wrecked in an act of artistic and civic vandalism.

So what are you going to work on next?

The meadows have been a large part of my work but it was never the only subject I painted. There are, more and more, strange things in the sky, interesting people doing mysterious things, “power spots” in the landscapes, rocket launches, explosions and people dancing to salsa. People on rooftops all over Damascus, chanting for freedom late into the night. People in landscapes taking aim with ideas and weapons that I’ve already started to paint and draw. At it for years already, actually.

THE DETAILS

Big Meadows Opening Reception; Tuesday, June 28 from 6 to 8 pm. The Brodsky Gallery at the Heldrich Hotel, 10 Livingston Street, New Brunswick. Show is up through Labor Day. 732.729.4670.

At first glance, it is easy to see her paintings as eye candy, endlessly consumable. But to view her paintings as a confection alone would rob you of a rewarding visual experience. Approach her paintings as you would a seven-course meal. Do not rush; savor the experience. With a virtuoso handling of mediums and materials, Lee is in total command of her vision. To look at her paintings is to view a troupe of abstract and recognizable forms writhe above veils of shimmering blues and hot pinks.

We caught up with her to discuss painting and drawing, her upcoming show at the Korean Cultural Center in Los Angeles, the power and influence of K-Pop and life in Jersey City.

LEE’S WORK:

To view larger, click on photos for slideshow

You were born and raised in Seoul, South Korea, and educated in southern California. What brought you to Jersey City?

After I graduated from school, I had a chance to stay in New York City for a summer residency program at Cooper Union for about one month. I loved being able to see many various artworks at the numerous galleries and museums in NYC. After that one month in NYC, I just packed up and moved to NY from California.

After arriving in NYC, I got a studio in Manhattan, but I wanted to live someplace quieter and more laid back. That place turned out to be Newport in Jersey City. It’s close enough to Manhattan that the commute is only a ten-minute ride on the PATH Train, and it’s clean and quiet and peaceful.

“Clean,” “quiet” and “peaceful” are three words not usually associated with Jersey City. What is your experience of the art scene in Jersey City?

I still have a lot to check out in Jersey City. I usually go to Grove Street or Hoboken which are close to Newport, and I suppose I consider New Jersey to be quieter than Manhattan because my studio is located in Manhattan.

Last July, I took part in a show called, “Material Girls,” which was curated by Margaret Murphy, on six women artists who use different “materials” and live in Jersey City. That’s when I got to meet some artists located in Jersey City. I’ve heard Jersey City is putting a lot of effort into promoting artists from this area.

How does New York City’s art scene compare to Seoul’s?

The allure of New York is that there are more galleries and museums to go to and that I can see a diverse range of art up close. It’s probably because so many different artists from all over the world come here.

I visit Seoul once or twice a year and each time I go there I’m astonished by Seoul’s art scene. Galleries are increasing in number every year and the shows held in galleries and museums also exhibit a diverse range of domestic and international artists. Recently, there has been a steep increase in art fairs and residency programs, not to mention a widening art scene for artists to showcase their work. I also heard that lots of collectors are flocking to Korea to buy art. All of this indicates that art is taking firmer root into Korea’s pop culture.

Has living in Jersey City shaped your practice in any manner?

There are a lot of fascinating shops to browse in Jersey City. For instance, curio shops, craft stores, and 99-cent stores. There are so many fun ideas to play with, and if I’m lucky I’ll end up purchasing new material to work with.

What are you looking for when you visit a 99-cent store, and how do you incorporate these items into your studio practice?

I started frequenting 99-cent stores in college. Taking into account that I was a student, the prices were affordable enough that there wasn’t any burden in trying out new materials — if they didn’t work, I could toss them. On top of that, there was the advantage of getting all I needed in one stop, from household essentials to hardware.

The first item I discovered was party supplies. I used the colorful items to make crafts and later those transformed into paintings. I guess I began to reconstruct different materials into my paintings in college.

You have work in a group exhibition at the Korean Cultural Center in Los Angeles this month. How did you become a part of this show, and what work will be on view?

Every year, they select artists for a group exhibition. I was selected as one of the artists and I’ll be showing three of my works: “Light in the Dark,” “Make a Wish!” and “Welcome to America!”

Let’s discuss your paintings and drawings. I am immediately drawn to the colors in your work; it’s a neon Day-Glo wonderland. What role does color play in your work?

Color is an important element in my work. It’s the first step in my working process and it’s where I get my general inspiration for a piece. I don’t do a preliminary sketch. Whereas most people begin with a sketch before the main work, I begin by making a color chart. I begin by testing various things such as what color I’ll use for the background, which colors go well with the background and which colors are much removed from it. If the right colors are combined, the feel of a picture communicates well with the viewer. Of course, my emotions are better conveyed to the viewer not only with the colors but with the detail images and mixed media, and these may add to the interest.

I am attracted to the combination between organic forms and representational shapes in your work. Tell me about this interaction. I’d also like to know what your strategy is for including these more emblematic forms among the biomorphic shapes, whirls, and blots.

My pieces are visualized pictures of an unreal world or reflection on a memory, thus all forms are my language which has been reconstructed into image. The biomorphic shapes are mainly natural images that, through reconstruction, express the flow of my emotions. The whirls represent an entangled complex state of mind. The blots represent longing, sorrow, and joy. However, I don’t have a fixed vocabulary for each of my images. Simply, there are images such as the blots and whirls mentioned above which are repeated in my pictures and can be close to being an emotional vocabulary.

The whirls, blots, and masses of color in your paintings and drawings signify specific emotions and memories. These shapes are born from spontaneity, improvisation, and emotion rather than premeditation or planning — am I correct?

Yes, exactly.

There is a lot of tension in your paintings between the “serious” and the “playful” — do you ever worry that one side might overpower or undo the other?

I try to keep them at an even level. I think of myself as playing when I paint, but because I don’t use only paint but a variety of mixed media, there is a danger of my art turning into decorative art if I go overboard. Therefore, I do need to retain a fine line of control. Once it veers toward an overly decorative art, the meaning contained in my work may be falsely portrayed.

At what point do you realize that overt decoration is threatening your work? And if you realize a painting or drawing is veering toward the decorative abyss, do you try to rescue it or do you let it jump off the cliff and die?

If a painting’s materials catch your attention more than the image, then that means it’s “too much.” Although I use mixed media, most people don’t realize what materials I’ve used until they scrutinize the work up close or unless I give an explanation about the materials. For example, when I use glitter, I don’t use it as a domineering color or image but rather only use its characteristic of offering a hint of shimmer according to the light to certain portions of a piece.

Likewise, this was the reason I stopped using fabric and switched to a mixture of gel medium and acrylics—fabric showed itself in an obvious way and I felt that this quality interfered with image of a work.

I try to rescue my paintings as much as possible, but if I reach a point where I get so stuck that I don’t know where to put my hands on a piece, I don’t exhaust time over it any longer. Sometimes I’ll nearly forget about a piece and won’t work on it for few weeks, and will later approach it with a fresh view and finish it then.

Personal memory serves as a major catalyst in your work. Arshile Gorky’s series of paintings, Garden in Sochi, were inspired from his childhood memories of his father’s garden in Armenia. The dominant motif is a boot-shaped form, thought to represent a butter churn used by the artist’s mother. Can you assign a specific theme, memory, or association, in your recent work?

The painting “Beyond a Memorable Song” is what I remember of the sounds of the Pacific Ocean. I lived close to the ocean, so I’d take walks along the shore almost every weekend, and the sound of the waves, leaves rustling in the wind, the scent of flowers, the sound of seagulls, the tingling sunshine; each and every one of these things are compounded, reminding me of music.

It’s been four years since I’ve left California, but those sounds still ring in my ear. This piece is my pictorial expression of that music. The images were inspired from nature and I reconstructed them into an abstract image of “melody.”

You incorporate personal symbols in your paintings and drawings. I am interested in how you develop this individual pictorial language. Do you find inspiration from natural world, as Gorky did in rural Virginia, or do you find inspiration from contemporary life, television, magazine ads and consumer packaging?

Both. I think it’s only natural for me to be inspired by nature since I spent my 20s in California. On the other hand, New York provides entirely different inspirational materials. Fashion, TV, diverse cultural life, different cultures that people from all over the world bring with them … all of these things become new inspiration. Coming up with a fine mixture of the natural world and the new cultures of today’s society are also a good representation of who I currently am.

Your painting “Lost” was the first work you made in Jersey City after moving from Southern California. Tell us about this painting. What is it like to start over and begin again?

“Lost” shows how I felt when I first moved to the East Coast and I couldn’t find my bearings. The picture contains elements of fear and helplessness from being in a place where I have no one, from having to start anew all by myself, nonetheless, it also includes new hope and dreams of being able to start fresh. The title, “Lost”, has a despairing definition of “being astray” but the colors and images are even stronger representations of determination and hope for the future.

You listen to jazz and K-Pop in the studio while you’re working. How does the music affect your work?

I like all kinds of music, but I tend not to listen to classical music when I’m working. It’s probably because classical music doesn’t give me much inspiration for my paintings. On the other hand, I listen to a lot of jazz, K-Pop, and cinematic soundtracks. This is likely due to the fact that I draw about memories, and cinema soundtracks remind me of the scenes in a movie while K-Pop reminds me of my childhood in Korea. I get a lot of inspiration when listening to music that has lyrics. As for jazz, I’ve enjoyed listening to it since I was little, which is maybe why it always helps soothe me.

Do you work on one painting at a time or several?

I usually work on two to three pieces at a time. When I only work on one piece, ideas don’t come as smoothly, so I work simultaneously on pieces that have contrasting vibes.

How do you prepare? What steps lead up to the first mark?

The first thing I do when I get in my studio is to plug my earphones into my ears. Like beginning meditation with a deep breath, music is the deep breath to start my working day.

When you have to solve a formal problem that you encounter in a painting, what do you do? Some artists return to earlier works, preliminary sketches, or read. What’s your M.O.?

When I encounter a problem in painting, I usually cut pictures and images from magazines and make collages. It’s not that I actually use those images, but rather frequently I’ll get a clue from the new abstract images that I’ve made. For example, I’ll cut images of flowers and put them together into a collage-like manner and an entirely different image is made. This entirely new image is reborn in my painting as an organic thing floating in air.

What are you working on now?

I just moved to a new studio at PS 122 in Manhattan. I’d like to use that space for my new project, which is installation. I’ve always researched materials and processes that I could develop and have wanted to expand my paintings as installation art. I think this is the time to start.

All images courtesy of the artist.

Photos: Dave Feldman

HUGGINS’ WORK:

On Saturday night, Balance Salon hosted the opening to its UFO Abduction Experience art showcase, featuring the work of professed abductee David Huggins. At first glance, the collection on display isn’t necessarily attention-grabbing, with the 68-year-old Huggins tending to use very neutral colors in the same medium: oil paint on canvas. But craft aside, the story told by these paintings is something truly out of this world. Recurring characters, including Huggins himself, appear with groups of little aliens he refers to as “Grays,” an alien woman named “Crescent,” a hairy monster resembling Chewbacca and a giant praying mantis known as an “insectoid.”

For the past eight weeks, Balance owner Carla Anderson (disclosure: she’s also my boss) has been hyping up the show, fueled by her own obsession with UFOs. Last week, she became inspired enough to get a tattoo of a UFO drawing on the back of her neck. Anderson also advertised “Free Haircuts If You Have Been Abducted By Aliens” on the salon’s front window, in addition to the long-standing promise that “Our Haircuts Will Get You Laid!”

“I’ve been saying for years that the men in this town are being abducted by aliens,” Anderson says. “David is the first to come forward and admit it.”

Since October, local light architect Norm Francoeur has been building and installing UFO models in the salon, using materials like blinking light strands, pool noodles, disco balls, foam core, and stretched pieces of mylar.

“I think UFOs are pretty crazy, but I know Carla loves it,” he says. “I know she’s tried to convince people to get a crop circle shaved into their head, but I haven’t seen anyone do it yet.”

While Anderson has had a long obsession with UFOs and aliens, she was unaware of David Huggins’ work until being introduced to him by her longtime friend, Timothy Beckley, a UFO expert who has published several books on the subject, including The Riddle of Hangar 18, UFOs and Psychic Revelations and Strange Saga. Beckley is the owner of Inner Light Publications, a publishing company that puts out these books, as well as his monthly news magazine, Conspiracy Journal.

“I’m Mr. UFO so I come across everyone in the area who has had some sort of experience,” the 63-year-old Beckley says. “I’ve known about David for a while and I first saw some of his artwork about two years ago. I like that he is able to put a positive spin on his experience, where most would be frightened or hesitant to discuss what has happened to them.”

Huggins, a 68-year-old Georgia native now living in Hoboken, is a very gentle and polite man who speaks with a quiet Southern accent. He is not the stereotypical eccentric UFO abductee; indeed, for a man whose work relies upon a personal alien abduction story, Huggins is ironically very down to Earth.

Huggins’ first encounter, he says, happened when he was an eight-year-old living in Pauldin County, Georgia. He claims he was taken aboard a craft in the middle of the night and received an electronic implant through his nose. When he began to cry from the pain, he was comforted by Crescent.

When asked why he never told anyone, Huggins says that his claims were, not surprisingly, met with disbelief and anger from his parents.

“I guess one time I told them one time too many and I received a whipping like you wouldn’t believe,” he says.

Huggins later had his first sexual experience with the alien Crescent, he says, and while the story is highly dubious, I find that I can’t stop listening as he retells it to me. (A 68- talking to a 21-year-old usually isn’t the most comfortable of situations, but then again, not everyone can claim to have lost it to an alien.)

In the early 1960s, Huggins moved north to attend the Art Students League in Manhattan. For a while, he says, his alien visitations became less frequent; he even had a serious girlfriend. But sure enough, the aliens found him, coming through what he describes as a portal hole in his wall. Huggins says he later found out that he was the father of an alien hybrid child, and now claims to have fathered over 60 of these hybrids.

All of these memories about his UFO experiences resurfaced in Huggins’ memory on August 17, 1987, a date he refers to as the Harmonic Convergence. This astrological phenomenon is closely related to the Mayan calendar, which he has since switched over to. Huggins says that at the time of his experiences, the aliens would instruct him to forget certain memories, but promised him that on that specific date, they would all return to him.

He began to paint these recollections shortly after.

Despite all of these fantastic experiences, Huggins has managed to live out an existence most of us would describe as “normal.” After college, he got married (he is now divorced) and had a son, Michael, with whom he is extremely close.

“[Michael] grew up with these paintings. They’re nothing new to him,” he explains. Huggins also did commercial art for several big businesses, including Merrill Lynch and Paine Webber. He now receives Social Security, and, aside from painting, enjoys collecting old movies.

Of course it’s not a totally normal existence. Huggins says that he still receives visits from Crescent, his alien lover – most recently, just four weeks ago.

Huggins admits that the subjects of his paintings can be a bit much to swallow, but he maintains that he is simply carrying on the grand tradition of art through the ages and mining his personal experience.

“I don’t believe in anything. When you believe something, there is always a ‘but’ associated, as in, ‘I believe this, but…’ How could you believe in this? These things I’ve painted are impossible,” he says. “But I know they happened. If I didn’t know, I would never have painted them.”

THE DETAILS

David Huggins’ work will be on display at Balance Hair Salon (18 Erie St.) until May 1.

Riccadonna, who also works as a program coordinator and assistant professor of fine art at Hudson County Community College, will receive $7,000 of the $159,000 being awarded to 22 fine and performing artists around the state, who were chosen from an application pool of more than 200.

The fellowship program had been canceled last year due to state budget cuts, but were reinstated at a reduced level this year.

“Restoring this vital support for individual artists has been among the council’s highest priorities,” council chair Sharon Burton Turner says in a statement. “The arts are a vital aspect of healthy, rewarding individual and community life, and artists are at the heart of this important work. Simply put, artists are our creative capital, a commodity of enormous importance in 21st century life.”

Photo via LaurieRiccadonna.com

And now flesh is the subject of a big new exhibition, Flesh Art, at New Jersey City University (NJCU). The show is curated by NJCU art history professor José Rodeiro (at right), and it features the work of 12 artists, including Joan Semmel, Ben Jones, Babs Reingold and Jen Mazza.

“The premise of the show is that human flesh can be an aesthetic motif on its own,” Rodeiro says. “I hope that those who attend the exhibit will leave with a renewed perspective on what flesh is and what it can mean.”

Rodeiro told us more recently as he made some final preparations for the exhibition, which has its opening reception this Thursday.

SOME WORK FROM THE SHOW:

Tell us more about the show, and how it came about.

I first became involved in Flesh Art by viewing and considering the artworks and the ideas of Matthew Lahm, when he was still one of my graduate students. His extraordinary work and ideas intrigued me.

For example, at the current show, you will see a ten-foot painting called Body View 1, which depicts part of a human body. By only showing a small part of the body within ten foot surface, the image is utterly mysterious, because the model’s identity, gender, and the actual part of the body displayed are unknown. Through this unusual “hyper-figurative” approach, the flesh itself becomes the subject of the work.

Suddenly, I realized that Lahm was part of a coterie of urban artists who used flesh/skin as their primary subject matter via this ambiguous visual-artistic handling of the body that I called “flesh art;” I began to notice a trend in contemporary metropolitan-area figurative art traceable to pioneers like Joan Semmel.

In the early 1970s, Semmel created innovative flesh-based paintings, which made her a pivotal figure in the development of flesh art. She seems to have influenced numerous artist like Lahm, Coronado, Cruz, Sandra Silva, Mazza, and Rogeberg, and others, whose images echo many tendencies found in her work. We are fortunate to have three never-before-seen paintings by her featured in the show. Flesh Art points to what I think is an evolution in 21st Century figurative art and where it can go in the future: amplifying parts and fragments of figures as subjects in and of themselves.

What is attracting this new generation of figurative artists to investigate flesh, and why now?

Perhaps it is that cosmopolitan artists feel that their core humanity is under attack from hyper-technology, fanatical dogmas, war, economic uncertainty — and perhaps that art itself is under threat.

Who is in the show, and what can viewers expect to see?

I have already discussed Joan Semmel and Matthew Lahm. Also featured are NJCU’s eminent retired professor Ben Jones, who is a prominent figure in African-American art, and NJCU professor and acclaimed sculptor Herb Rosenberg. The exhibition includes works by Rutgers professor and internationally active painter, Hanneline Rogeberg. There are strikingly visceral installation and multimedia works by Babs Reingold of Bayonne; intimate oil paintings by Jen Mazza of Brooklyn; cityscapes incorporating flesh in media by acclaimed painter John Hardy of New York; and video art by Giuseppe Satta of Italy. Furthermore, there are exceptional and distinctive images of human flesh (and innovative flesh-based compositions) by three other exceptional and gifted emerging artists (and like Lahm, NJCU alumni) Williams Coronado, Sandra Silva and Olga Cruz.

As soon as I heard the title of the exhibition, Flesh Art, I pictured the painting Woman, 1, by artist Willem de Kooning. When I mentioned the name of the show to my girlfriend, she assumed it was of tattooing.

This is merely my own aesthetic-opinion, but I do not immediately think of human flesh or skin when I see de Kooning’s Woman, 1. De Kooning’ s paint-application is very sensuous, which is the only thing about his work that I consider to be fleshy.

Honestly, tattoos are not an issue in the current Flesh Art show, because tattoos modify, hide, or visually change flesh and skin. Thus, tattoos tend to transmogrify, decorate, camouflage, or they add ancillary symbolic iconological meaning to skin, which distracts from the actual tone, texture, and fleshiness of “natural” skin or flesh.

I had another thought nipping at the heels of Woman, 1, and it was pornography. “Flesh Art” sounds dirty, and I ashamed of myself for thinking in this manner. As an artist, I like to think of myself as progressive, tolerant, and open-minded — but occasionally I am not. Did you intend the title of the show to be provocative or am I way off base?

The original intention of the Flesh Art show was never to be pornographic or provocative, [but] it could come across that way because flesh can be so taboo. The title is merely descriptive and represents 12 exceptional artists who exalt in seeing and depicting human flesh — artists who are fascinated by human flesh – as human flesh. In my opinion, none of the selected Flesh Art artists pander to prurient interest nor do they endeavor to arouse lascivious curiosity.

So, according to your definition, flesh art would not include painters such as Lisa Yuskavage, Terry Rodgers, and John Currin? Am I correct?

Yes, because flesh art is far more concerned with mysterious parts of bodies, instead of full-figure grand-manner depictions. Flesh art is not concerned with scintillating and pseudo-pornographic calculated depictions of hyper-seductive, manipulated, erotic and embellished dehumanized figures.

The nude is the foundation of Western art. However, as an Irish-Catholic male born and raised in a modest ranch house in New Jersey, I am not wholly comfortable with the human body in a state of undress—unless I am watching two men inflict and take punishment inside a boxing ring. What do you hope the viewer takes away from the work in this exhibition?

Within the context of art history, representations of human figures in the nude or naked are recurrent subjects. In fact, the history of art is saturated with astounding depictions of flesh from Classical Greek and Roman antiquity; Hindu and Buddhist artistic traditions; or as exemplified throughout Western art from the Renaissance onward. As a theme in art, unclothed human subjects are widespread and rooted deep in art history.

The artworks in the Flesh Art show describe the body as a medium through which the mind thinks and feels. As a result, flesh art imagery presents human skin/flesh as a layer through which the human body meets the world in which it lives. Hence, according to this view, people (in every way) truly inhabit their skin. Moreover, on a visceral level, both affectionate people as well as sadists are drawn to flesh, erotically desiring the skin of others. Therefore, both the human body and its flesh are noetic or intuitive vehicles for processing and possessing existence. Thus, skin functions as a “self-reflecting” subject that reaffirms and embodies the self, as a mirror image of our “being.” As the old-adage warns, “Beauty is only skin-deep.” Likewise, skin — as the largest organ of the human body — encases the body.

Art history is stacked with men. As a viewer, I have usually seen flesh — usually the flesh of nude women — depicted by male artists. Do female painters approach the body in a different manner than their male counterparts? If so, what does their work communicate about the body?

The old distinctions and obsolete hegemony between male artists and female artists are not central to contemporary flesh art, since most 21st Century urban pioneers of flesh art have been women artists. Yet, the key issue is that flesh art does not depict the full grand manner figure. Despite historical figural traditions that reveal nude or naked human bodies from head to toe, 21st Century flesh art images often portray only portions or sections of human bodies wherein strong emphasis is placed on ample corporeal surface-effects that meticulously define each body’s accentuation of flesh (or skin). Generally, the sheer veneer of flesh is not the main aesthetic focal point; instead what is often stressed is the exterior fascia, revealing a modular or sectionalized surface façade that may well be smooth, sinewy, vivacious, undulating, rough, coarse, or expressing countless other surface possibilities (even within one piece). Consequently, each work offers a crucial section of a human being’s body.

De Kooning once said, “Flesh is the reason oil paint was invented.” For me, oil paint is particularly suited to capturing the vivacity of flesh. However, not all artists use oil, and not all artists paint. Artist Babs Reingold is featured in the exhibition. She has used encaustic, silk organza, animal skin and human hair in her installations. What can other mediums communicate about flesh that oil paint cannot?

The diverse artists exhibiting in the Flesh Art show do not exclusively rely on oil paint to attain their facsimiles of flesh or skin, although several do use oil paint. On the other hand, the show also features artists working with charcoal on skin, scratching and machining onto aluminum, using photography or doing wet-acrylic colorfield-painting like Ben Jones — or like Babs Reingold, using encaustic, silk organza, animal skin and human hair. The multimedia nature of the show broadens the artistic examination of human flesh on many levels.

Art has the power to reveal our uneasiness about the body. Does art that reveals our uneasiness about the body have the power to heal it?

I think there is an element of redemption of flesh in this NJCU exhibit, in that flesh art liberates the nude from social presuppositions, prejudices, and peripheral narratives that can taint our points of view about it. Flesh Art shows how artists can communicate a variety of meanings through flesh, which are simultaneously experiential and conceptual. Human skin/flesh is our connection to the world and — as a person living in the world and as a person devoted to art — pondering the significance of this “natural” bond to me is valuable and worthwhile.

Photo of Rodeiro by Parida Suwannewisch/All other images courtesy of the artists

THE DETAILS

Flesh Art; Harold B. Lemmerman and Visual Arts Galleries at NJCU; 2039 Kennedy Blvd. The opening reception is Thursday, January 27 from 4:30 to 7:30 pm. A ‘Flesh Talk’ with Matthew Lahm and Babs Reingold is in the Visual Arts Gallery at 5:30 pm. The show is up through March 4.

All images courtesy of the artist

The suffering artist full of maudlin self-pity is a well-known stereotype in pop culture. Mark Rothko slit his wrists. Arshile Gorky hung himself. Kurt Cobain blew his head off. But Bojana Coklyat is not your typical artist.

Coklyat, who was raised in a single-parent household in Jersey City, was diagnosed with diabetes at 10 years of age. By 27, she was legally blind, and her kidneys began to fail. In the face of these challenges, Coklyat continued to paint, execute commissions, and regularly exhibit work — she even designed an ornament that hung on the presidential Christmas tree in the Blue Room of the White House in 2008.

Less than two months ago, the 31-year-old Coklyat received a life-saving kidney and pancreas transplant. We recently caught up with Coklyat to discuss her operation and recovery, as well as her life and work and newfound prowess in the kitchen.

Tell us about yourself; who are you and what do you do?

I am a Jersey City local, an artist and an art teacher at St. Joseph’s School for the Blind. My focus is painting people. I have fun with what I do and I share that with my students and with other people in the community. I have also done murals in Bayonne and Denville — and I have a mural in progress in Jersey City.

Tell us about the mural in Jersey City.

There is a wonderful chiropractor, Brian Corrigan, in Downtown. He has been working on me for almost two years. He’s been instrumental in helping me walk normally again, and he is currently making house calls for me since I can’t go out. I am doing 15x10ft mural in appreciation for what he has done for me and as well as the Jersey City community.

When did you begin to paint and draw?

I have always drawn, and at 13 I was accepted to the Artistically Talented Class at my school P.S. #6. Upon entering McNair Academic High School, I was also accepted into the Visual and Performing Arts program — it involved students from various Jersey City high schools participating in special classes at NJCU. I went on to attend The School of the Art Institute of Chicago and found new inspiration, and I’ve been evolving as an artist ever since.

You recently received a kidney/pancreas transplant over the Thanksgiving holiday. What happened, and why did you require two organ transplants at such a young age?

I have been diabetic since I was 10, and it had taken a toll. I had initially taken fairly good care of myself, but with no mom and my dad working a lot I was kind of out there on my own. It got worse in high school; by senior year, I was eating doughnuts, Doritos and then washing that down with at least one or two liters of soda a day.

In college, I was on my own and even more reckless with my health — at times not taking my insulin. I ended up in the hospital several times.

Diabetes affects the nerves and blood vessels in the eyes, kidneys and feet. When your blood sugar is at a high level it feels like tiny shards of glass rubbing against your nerves and blood vessels. I kept telling myself I would get my health in order by the time I was 30.

But then at 27, I became legally blind and had to change everything. With the help of my brother, Andre, I was able to retain as much sight as possible and make a positive change. Despite taking these steps, my kidneys were failing rapidly and once that happens there isn’t much to be done to bring them back. About a year and a half ago I had to begin dialysis, and let me tell you: I would take twenty years of diabetes over that any day.

How long were you waiting for a kidney and pancreas? And when did you find out that you would receive the transplants?

I only waited about a year and a half. When you receive a pancreas, you and the donor must be a perfect match. Over the summer I had been called several times from the transplant clinic updating me on my status on the list, and when I last talked to them in August I was at number one. However, by the middle of November, I hadn’t heard anything.

The day I got the call, I was at Newport Mall with my friend Nadia and she literally asks, “So what’s going on with your transplant?” and I said, kind of dejectedly, “Who knows, maybe after New Years…” We settled in to get ready to watch Morning Glory. Nadia goes to the bathroom, I check my messages and lo and behold there was one from the transplant clinic — they had a match for me. When I finally could breathe and dial, I called them up and began to cry and laugh at the same time. Nadia came back bewildered, and then I explained and then we were crying and laughing together.

You are home now. What is the state of your recovery? And have you begun painting again?

Recovery is going well; the organs are happy in their new home. I was able to make it home for Thanksgiving and that was absolutely wonderful. Part of my recovery has been cooking everything from scratch and finding new recipes. I can’t eat food prepared on the outside for several months, because of the risk of bacteria, and I can’t eat out in a public place for the same reason. So cooking has kept me busy and been like therapy.

Last month, right before Christmas, I did come down with an infection with a high fever and had to stay in the hospital for several days. Luckily I made it home for Christmas.

Having to adjust to a whole new way of being and taking care of myself has been pretty huge and taken all my concentration. Messing up my meds can mean the difference between my organs sticking around or not, so it’s been a lot to process. There are so many new feelings to sort through, and new ways of thinking to adjust to, that I have to approach how I paint a little differently. I’ve had visions of new paintings that are very different from what I had done before, but I haven’t started those yet.

Overall, my mind is clearer and I think that will be reflected in my work. I feel there will be a significant shift in some way, I’m just not sure how yet.

As mentioned earlier, you’re a painter. Unlike the majority of painters, you’re legally blind. When did you begin to lose your sight, and how did it affect your work as an artist?

About four years ago I began losing my vision. Right now, my vision is stable at 20/200 and I’m thankful for that. It’s like looking through a dim foggy windshield, not really being able to make out a lot of detail without getting my face right up against something. Glasses can help me see larger print but not with books, street sign and seeing at night.

I am painting now more than ever. I have such gratitude to be able to do it and see it. At first, I gave up for a period; I couldn’t paint with the detail I once had. But the New Jersey Foundation for the Blind helped me adjust to my vision loss and I found a way to paint in a new way, by outlining everything in black paint and using a lot of contrast. I also began to use more vibrant colors that would help me see better and switched from oil to acrylic painting. The shine was less from the acrylic.

Throughout the history of art, a few notable painters have suffered impaired vision or blindness, including Mary Cassatt, Francisco Goya, Edgar Degas, Paul Cezanne, Honoré Daumier, and Claude Monet. Cassatt’s blindness was a direct result of diabetes, and she experienced concurrent retinopathy. Do you identify with any of these artists?

Well, I gotta say, I didn’t know about Mary Cassatt. I do love what she did and actually I love all of those artists named. I definitely do identify with the fact that they had visual impairments while being artists. There is a challenge, but it is not really a choice if you are a true artist. It’s not about being inspiring or tough, you just have to do it or your soul will shrivel up. I don’t identify so much with the work they actually did, although I enjoy it. I am more drawn to emotionally raw work, or work that tells me about the artist. To throw my own two cents in here, I have to say I identify more with Frida Khalo’s work. She just put it all out there, how she felt, how she suffered — and yet it was so vibrant and full of life. She wasn’t like, “Poor me.” She had so much physical strife as well as emotional and she turned it into some of the most beautiful and inspiring artwork.

As an artist, what I find inspiring is how these artists adapted to their visual impairment and continued painting. As Degas’ eyesight diminished, he changed from oils to pastels. Acute light sensitivity made him work indoors. Arguably, he created his best work – female dancers at the opera — during this period. In the last decade of Francisco Goya’s life, he executed a group of miniatures on ivory. These paintings are some of the most extraordinary paintings in art history. At this point, he was nearly blind and completely deaf. His eyesight was so dim, he used a magnifying glass to help him paint.

Have you changed your working method or mediums as a result of your visual impairment? If so, what have you changed, and how has it affected your work?

There are the technical things I changed to help me adjust to painting with vision loss, which I just outlined. But the element that really stands out to me is how I changed emotionally, and how I changed what I was conveying. I was always trying to tell a story, but somebody else’s story with what I was feeling. With the onset of my vision loss that facade fell away and it was just me. Not perfect self-portraits but I did these paintings understanding the people were me and the feelings were mine. My paintings became more and more personal, I moved away from doing group scenes to just single women. I let my imagination go a little bit farther, creating alien girls, octopus women and 50-foot girlfriends. In my work and my life I have become a lot more introspective, putting importance on key things like love, integrity and having a purpose.

You’re a great role model for artists. Like Kahlo and Goya, you suffered a series of severe physical setbacks, and met the challenges head on. What is the source of your strength and perseverance?

First off, I’d have to say that though there were rough times growing up, I felt loved and protected. My father was tough but told us he loved us everyday. My brother, Andre, has been my best friend and had been above and beyond supportive to me all my life. He always makes me laugh and doesn’t ever allow me to pity myself. My friends show me their strength and unending support and love. My boyfriend, John, has seen me from the beginning of dialysis to the end and he has been so loving and kind, allowing me to feel at ease.

These things help to give me the strength to get through all this, but if we really want to get to the root of the strength and perseverance I’d say it starts with my father. He grew up in the former Yugoslavia during World War II and he had to survive Nazis, bombings, and not knowing if you were going to eat and live. He came here not speaking English 40-something years ago and was determined to make it somehow. He learned English, got his operating engineer’s license and began working throughout the U.S., ending up working as an operating engineer on Wall Street (towards the end of his career was working for Donald Trump).

He taught me you could do anything you want to as long as you try hard enough. That goes for anything. You have a disability? So what! The question is how bad do you want something? How much passion do you have? My dad taught me that. He always said, “life is 10 percent inspiration and 90 percent preparation.”

I am drawn to your painting Come See the Flying Angel. Tell us about it.

That was probably done about six or seven years ago during my dark circus series. I had concocted a whole storyline concerning all the folks at a slightly mystical and questionable traveling circus. The “flying angel” was the veteran trapeze artist who was now being threatened by a newer younger trapeze artist. There are several paintings with them together and with the others. This was more of a mock circus poster for advertising they were in town.

I think she represented the part of me that felt at the time was being brushed aside by my ex-boyfriend. I was old hat and there was a new gal on the horizon (I was more right than I could have imagined or painted). She was trapped, but somehow sickeningly comfortable at this twisted circus, she didn’t know what to do … but now I think she found a new life maybe teaching kids how to fly on the trapeze.

Any last words?

I’m always looking for new projects and challenges; ideas are bubbling forth and I can’t wait to share them. I’m really hoping to find a space to have a comprehensive show of my paintings right before dialysis, during dialysis, during my recovery and then after my little cocoon phase here. That, as well as participating in an outside mural somewhere in Jersey City. Something that would speak to everyone and make them JC proud.

COKLYAT’S WORK:

“I studied at Middlesex University, which offered a very self-directed open course with no constraints on medium; this certainly influenced my approach to making art, and the work I produce now,” McNamara says. “Although my work could be described as painting, I find it hard to classify as one particular medium, so I call them art objects.”

We recently sat down with Graham to discuss the studio tour, his work and the subtle differences between London and Jersey City.

You were born and raised in London, England, and currently live in Jersey City. Fate brought me here. What’s your story?

I met a Jersey girl and fell in love. My wife Tracy studied abroad for a semester at my university; she liked England — and me — and decided to transfer the rest of her studies there. When we graduated, we moved as close to New York as we could, not realizing what a great place Jersey City is. It couldn’t have worked out better.

How does New York City’s art scene compare to London’s? Is one city more artist-friendly than the other?

My knowledge of interacting with the London art scene is limited compared to New York; I left university, got on a plane, and headed for America, still wet behind the ears. I think both cities are tough and exciting, but I think London is more critical whereas New York is more all accepting. I think at this point in my career this is the best place for me to be, although I do try to stay involved in London. I’m currently in an exhibition at Edel Assanti Gallery there titled Superunknown; it’s a fantastic space and I’m excited to be showing in both cities.

Has living in Jersey City shaped your practice in any manner?

I would say it fits perfectly with how I want to conduct my practice. Jersey City has an aloof relationship to New York. It is neither a part of it nor apart, and so you interact with New York in a very different manner than if you lived there. I am able to draw inspiration from New York City; its art scene and people, yet live and run my studio at a step back. Jersey City is the calm I need to research and create my work!

How did you become involved in Existential Dread, and what work will be on view?

I have known Tina for a number of years; we worked together and have stayed friends ever since. I really respect her work as an artist and as a curator, she puts together shows that really harmonize and convey her ideas well. Tina told me about the show and asked if I had anything that would fit; we had a studio visit and picked 4 pieces from my IMG_ series — IMG_6297, IMG_6293, IMG_6295 and IMG_6291.

The studio tour is a great chance for the public to meet artists in person. What time will you be on site?

It’s nice to discuss your work with so many people; I’m excited to be participating. I will be around for all of Sunday to meet, greet, and answer any questions.

Tell us about at the IMG_ series. What is it, and why should people come to the gallery to see the paintings in person?

In the IMG_ series, I focus on unsettling accepted norms. The series deconstructs the very chocolate-box works of William-Adolphe Bouguereau, which are quintessential in their idyllic imagery and comfortably absorbed into a mainstream acceptance of art and history.

I subvert these moments from this dreamlike state: reduced to one color, seemingly corroded by drips, painted to look as though they were pasted arbitrarily onto medium-density fiberboard (MDF) — a composite, false wood — as opposed to a traditional canvas. This system of processes strips away Bouguereau’s romantic idealism, removing the aura and exposing its “truth,” which in turn confronts us with our own. It’s like a movie star on an autopsy table, guts on the side in a bowl. The pieces are titled after their own documentation; the code given to the main image by the camera that photographed them.

I’d say these pieces need to be seen in person because there are a lot of subtleties in the work that are important, like the ultra smooth painted area and how the thick, uniformed MDF boxes take on a sculptural presence, taking the work outside of a painterly reading and turning it into a conceptual art object.

What a great analogy — the dead movie star, in the meat locker, cut up and dissected. This says a lot about you and your work: the artist as coroner.

I have always taken a very analytical and scientific approach to my environment, and I enjoy exploring the world in a somewhat controlled and methodical way. But I also love those moments of chaos; like in my work how the drips are done before the image is painted, and without thought to how it would affect the image.

The series appropriates paintings by William-Adolphe Bouguereau. Who is this artist, and why did you choose his paintings to subvert and not someone else like David, Ingres, or Corot?

Bouguereau was a French painter from the 19th Century; very academic, very traditional, very romantic. He sold well and was highly regarded around the world until Impressionism grew in popularity; he opposed this and they considered him a dinosaur, which he soon became. I am drawn to his work for its overt romantic idealism, especially in light of his stubbornness to move away from his dreamy idyllic style. I am also working with a lot of Caspar David Friedrich’s paintings, and that strand of German romantics. Although David’s work is stylistically similar, the subject matter comes from a very different place; it’s much grander and less intimate than Bouguereau. Corot’s portraits have far too much honesty to them, and even his landscapes have this subtle bitterness in their beauty.

Bouguereau was popular, had it made, but refused to change with the times — as a result, he fell into obscurity. He is Skid Row to Monet’s Nirvana. Speaking of music, do you listen to it while you paint or do you prefer silence?

It depends on what stage I’m at — I go through a real range. While I cut wood and build the MDF boxes, I listen to bands like The Streets and Babyshambles. Then whilst I’m sanding, taping areas, painting base coats and drips, its Coco Rosie, Beirut and Sigur Ros. And whilst I paint the image, it’s This American Life. I normally spend a good hour or so every studio day in silence, thinking about whatever I’m working on.

I like the fact that you are not afraid to use paintings from art history in your work. In 1997, I had the opportunity to attend the Vermont Studio Center on residency. A visiting art critic from Newsweek blasted me during a studio visit for using art historical references in my painting and collages, and his remarks paralyzed me.

There’s a great Glenn Brown quote:

To make something up from scratch is nonsensical, images are a language. It’s impossible to make a painting that is not borrowed — even the images in your dreams refer to reality.

I think where the problem lies is when art is not moving forward, when I see new young artists making abstract expressionist paintings or geometric minimalist works and not considering them as referential. Whatever you are exploring with your work should be unique.

Before we move on, one more question about your show on the studio tour. Will your work be available to purchase?

Yes they will — get them while they’re hot!

As an artist, I have always found it difficult to determine the value of my work. Is this the case for you, and how do you determine the price of your work?

It’s very difficult; there are so many factors to take into consideration. Every element of my work has deep amounts of thought put into it. With the IMG_ series, please pay close attention to the joins in the MDF boxes; it’s intentional and required a lot of tests to what worked well for the piece. Although I’d like to say it’s an hourly rate plus materials, it isn’t always that simple. If I applied that formula to my paintings, I’d average about $1 an hour. You always take a loss as an emerging artist.

The emerging artist makes a dollar an hour for their work — I think you’re being more than generous. In my experience, the wage for an emerging artist can be calculated in nickels and dimes. What can we do to change this?

I love what I do, so I don’t mind that the financial reward isn’t there yet; I work hard and I hope it’ll pay off. I think in a way it’s part of the process and only makes you more focused and dedicated.

Oil painting was invented sometime in the early 1400s. This is the medium you choose to use today. Why use oils when you could be using laser beams like everyone else?

With my use of paint I make a reference to the material; if I abandoned the paint completely it would lose an important element to my pieces. I think it’s more about how you think about and use the material. In my work the brush strokes in the paint are wiped clean, leaving the surface balanced between the romanticism of painting, and the impersonal, aura-less mechanical print. It becomes about the transition.

Apart from folks like Damien Hirst and Jeff Koons, most artists are poor, especially painters and artists who use Polaroid cameras and typewriters — they live on stale bread and water. Why did you become an artist, and what steps have you taken to sustain your career?

I don’t think you really chose to be an artist; it’s more that you are one, and you have to figure out how to make it work. You find an art-related part-time job to pay the bills, and work every free moment you have around it. I’m currently a studio assistant three days a week for an artist in New York. The key in today’s art world is to realize you’re a businessman too. It is a career at the end of the day, and you need to balance that with your creativity. Damien Hirst is a very smart businessman, and no comment on Jeff Koons.

What’s wrong with Jeff Koons?

I don’t like his work or how he runs his factory-esque studio. I know Hurst’s studio isn’t much better, but his work is much stronger and that goes a long way.

Let’s focus on Jersey City. What is your favorite diner? Who has the best jukebox, and where can you find a decent cup of coffee?

The best diner has to be the Flamingo; its Jersey City’s best-kept secret, straight out of the movies. I love White Star as well, as it’s just like an English pub and plays lots of English music. For a coffee it has to be Legal Grounds, which is actually opposite my apartment — lovely garden, great staff, and always a perfect cup. I still have had no luck with a good cup of tea, I have to import bags from England and bring them with me! There’s nothing like a good cup of tea.

MORE OF McNAMARA’S WORK (all of these pieces will be on display at Existential Dread):

You describe yourself as a fine artist and illustrator. Everyone knows that illustrators dine on butter-poached oysters and drive Volvos while artists slurp 40s of Mickey’s and ride the bus. What are some other differences between the two professions, or misconceptions about those supposed differences?

Luckily I like to wash my oysters down with a 40! Apparently there’s a big division between the two professions and you’re supposed to choose one or the other, but to me the lines are blurry. I’ve exhibited artwork in galleries that was originally created for illustration purposes, and adapted personal work for illustration assignments. A lot of people think that illustrators are sell-outs, but I find that fine artists are just as willing to pimp themselves out, only in different ways. I’d say I actually make more “oysters” off my fine art.

In my experience, illustrators and graphic designers have a better business sense, and tend to be more financially savvy and realistic than most traditional fine artists — painters and sculptors. I studied painting and drawing in college. The program stressed painting and drawing, but not money. When I graduated from school, I was broke, and had no viable skills. I could make a painting, but I could not sell it whereas illustrators and designers could work, determine the value of the work, and earn money. Did you study illustration in school? If so, did the program discuss money—billing, price quotes, how to value your time and work?

Yes and yes. When I started at Parsons I planned to major in either Fashion Design or Fine Art. After the “foundation” year (which we lovingly referred to as boot camp) I knew I didn’t want to do fashion because I couldn’t remotely relate to the other kids going into that department. I was still interested in Fine Art, but my professors encouraged me to do Illustration because my work was very concept-driven and because that department was known for instilling a lot of practical techniques and valuable skills. Senior year we were required to take a class called “Professional Practices” that was so boring, but so useful! We learned how to make invoices and contracts, discussed cost of living, and were informed about the implications of being a freelancer, as far as taxes, insurance, etc. are concerned. Those skills have turned out to be just as important to my career as artistic skills.

What work have you decided to include in Surface Tension, what work have you decided not to include in the exhibition, and why?

LITM is a big space and I wanted to utilize it to the fullest, so I’m showing a sampling from many different series. I did try to gear my choices to a younger audience because LITM has a vibrant, loyal scene of locals. It’s great that people are starting collections early and I want to encourage that. Buying the work of your contemporaries while it’s affordable is a smart investment. I left out my series of author portraits because I thought it might be a bit too serious for the LITM crowd. It worked out well because The Authors is perfect for another solo show that came up unexpectedly at Made With Love that opens next week.

Tell us more about that series.

The Authors is an ongoing series of portraits of writers that I admire. So far the series includes Truman Capote, Marcel Proust, Vladimir Nabokov, Maya Angelou, Amy Tan, John Updike and Jean-Paul Sartre. Now I’m working on a set of portraits of Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin, so those will be fresh for the show. I do a pretty realistic likeness of each author, and then add collage elements that give insight into the subject’s personality and the personalities of the characters they create, as well as the time period they wrote in/about. I feel an intimacy with the authors in my portraits, like I get to know them personally by reading their books and doing artworks about them. I emphasize that by making the portraits really small, so they’re like family photos you’d have around your house.

What has been the biggest highlight of your career as an artist? What has been your biggest disappointment?

It’s hard to choose the biggest highlight. Landing my first solo show (at the Rotunda Gallery in City Hall) was something I’ll never forget. It was also satisfying to have my illustrations recognized by 3×3 magazine, the Creative Quarterly journal and Communication Arts. I was recently commissioned to paint a pole dancer for a wine label, which is basically my dream job. As for my biggest disappointment, I still haven’t gotten over being rejected by Cooper Union.

At least you applied to Cooper Union — I was too afraid. Tell us about the pole dancer, and why is it your dream job?

First of all, I’m really amused by the randomness of this company choosing a pole dancer for their label. When they originally pitched the concept to me it sounded really cute and playful, and became more blatantly sexual as the job moved forward. They wanted a 1940s style pin-up girl dancing on a pole … did pole dancing exist in the ‘40s? … and throughout the sketch phase they kept asking me to make her waist smaller and her T&A bigger. It was priceless! Anyway, it’s fun painting sexy ladies – who isn’t fascinated by a beautiful woman? And I’ve always wanted to do a wine label for the simple reason that I love wine. Beautiful woman plus wine equals dream job.

What three pieces of advice would you give to an artist just starting out their career?

Ask lots of questions and be receptive to advice. Experienced artists are usually more than happy to help out emerging artists — it strokes their ego! Also be open-minded; sometimes an opportunity comes along that seems really lame, but ends up leading to something amazing. And lastly, don’t quit your day job.

New York City is arguably the center of the art world. As an artist, why did you choose to live in Jersey City, not New York? What does Jersey City provide you that NYC cannot provide you?

I have to admit that I moved to Jersey City as a necessity, not a choice. I couldn’t afford to live in Manhattan after graduating from Parsons. But now I like Jersey City — it has everything that NYC has, only it’s less pretentious. I can afford a bigger space here and anytime I need an NYC fix, it’s just a PATH train ride away.

What is your favorite place to eat? Who has the best jukebox, and where can you find a decent cup of coffee?

LITM, of course! And then Made With Love for desert! In all seriousness, I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find a lot of top-notch restaurants in Jersey City — Light Horse Tavern, Skinner’s Loft, some of the waterfront restaurants are nice. … I’m still exploring, you’ll have to ask me that again in a year.

Who would you rather paint of portrait of, Lady Gaga or Katy Perry — and what materials would you use, and why?

Well, I guess they’re similar in that they’re all about shock value — playing up their sexuality, making bold fashion statements. I guess I’d rather paint Lady Gaga because she’s more extreme and extreme things tend to be fun to portray. I would use collage, because when you do a collage every piece you incorporate is an opportunity to represent some aspect of that person. Building up the layers of the collage is like building up all the characteristics of a person that make them who they are. You end up with something much more dimensional than a straight-up portrait. That being said, I’d still rather paint classic authors than pop culture icons. Does that mean I’m getting old?

What’s up next for you?

I’m really excited to be curating my first show: Nature Vs. Nurture at Broadway Gallery in Manhattan. It will be up November 1 – 15, with an opening reception on November 4 at 6 pm. I get to work with a lot of amazing artists that I admire; a combination of local artists who I’ve shown with, a couple of my favorite alumni, and even some former professors.

SAMPLES OF GLORIS’ WORK:

The opening reception for Surface Tension is Tuesday, September 7 at 7 pm; at LITM, 140 Newark Ave. The exhibition will be on view through October 3.

The opening reception for The Authors is Saturday, September 11 at 6 pm; at Made with Love, 530 Jersey Ave. The exhibition will be on view through October 11.