Lucy Lippard at Mills

Sorry for such a crappy phone photo, but it was a dark auditorium. In case you didn't get it from the title of this post, I saw Lucy Lippard speak at Mills College last week. She was there to promote her new book, Undermining, and her talk gave a synopsis of the book.

In truth, as much as I admire her, I felt her talk was fairly cursory, and basically covered the same ideas that those such as myself - who fit into center of the Venn diagram of artists, environmental issues, and activists - have debated and explored and focused on for the past ten years. However, I am still thinking about her talk, so I guess it stayed with me.

I took some notes, although she read her talk at a fairly quick pace and I didn't always get everything. Much of what she said that I found interesting was when she quoted someone else, and I didn't always catch who was the source.

What I came away with:

1) Her new book, which she describes as "an extended essay with parallel narratives," focuses on the gravel pit as a metaphor as an antithesis of the city, the lowest level of the landscape, and an example of what humans are doing to the planet.

2) Pueblo Indians farm with gravel mulch to preserve water. (Just thought this fact was cool).

3) On the global margins, emptiness and negative space are more important.

4) "All art is agriculture, not industry" - Carl Andre. Artists like him focused on absence and the dematerialized rather than object.

5) Land Art for Lippard is now, as she stated, "in the rear view mirror." Now she has turned her focus to things like Land Use and Land Appropriation, and the longer she lives in the West, the more she is drawn to the peripherals, the sideshows.

6) Earthworks take their power from distance - from cities, people, and are often instruments for seeing rather than being seen.

7) Remember that places like Trinity and the Nevada Test Sites were the original Ground Zeros.

8) She discussed how photography can be a form of activism by documenting destruction and degradation, and debated when photographers capture images of such, does the beauty they create allow people to look longer at such destruction, or does it hinder the cause by making it beautiful?

9) EcoArt is a response to the destructive tendencies of Land Art, and coincidentally, has more women involved than Land Art did.

10) "It is easier to conceive of the end of the world than the end of capitalism" - didn't get who said this, but it's sooooo true.

11) "Art may not change the world, but it can be a worthy ally to those trying." - Lippard

12) "The Activist is the artist's ashes, artists rise from the ashes of obsolete art."

13) "An artist who is not an activist is a dead artist." - Ai Wei Wei, although Lippard doesn't agree that all artists are activists. Yet she feels that in this global age, everyone needs to be activist of some sort.

14) Lippard has never been to Burning Man, although she's been told that the Rainbow Gatherings are really where it's at. (But hasn't been to one of those either).

15) When asked by a student if this was a call to arms, and if so, what should be done, her response was, "I'm 78 years old. I shouldn't be telling artists what to do. You've got to rise up and do your own."

16) Social ecology and the importance of the local are necessary involvements for artists and activists.

A form of mourning

A few weeks ago, I was teaching a class involving collage, and the students were using a bunch of old National Geographics. In one corner, a few students came across an article on the Red Panda. "Aren't they extinct?" I heard one of them ask. "Yeah, I think they are extinct," another agreed.

Yet...they aren't extinct. However, what struck me most was their nonchalance towards such an idea. They are so accustomed to such events, that they are barely worthy of note to them.

Last week I was part of a discussion (picture above) at the Spare Change Artist Space, as part of the OFFspace exhibition Brave New World, (pictured above). One of the questions Emmanuelle asked of the group was,"What is the role of art regarding climate change?"

Regarding the works in the exhibition, (such those by Alan, Alicia, and Andreanne), I responded that I felt that one role art can serve in this changing world is an outlet for mourning.

(I also feel strongly that art can suggest solutions, but that is another discussion.)

The discussion ranged more broadly than just the idea of mourning, but it was something I've been thinking about since. I'm not sure we as a species are psychologically capable for the losses that are predicted, such as the potential for mass extinctions, global warming refugees, even changes in the food supply. This is an overwhelming subject, one that many people feel helpless against, and would rather avoid. For my students, it's become something that is normal. Most of them have never even seen a Red Panda, or say, a Western Black Rhino, so why should they care?

It's cool not to care, to not be impressed, to not be moved (especially to teenagers). And when you do care...there is so much to care about. It's overwhelming.

Yet we will need to mourn. We should mourn the black rhino, the baiji, the golden toad. We should mourn the loss of diversity, things that will never been seen again, which is also to me, a loss of wonder and possibility. But I'm not sure we will know how. Extinctions and dramatic shifts have happened before, but not on the scale that is currently predicted, and not in such a measurable and documented fashion.

I'm not entirely comfortable with this role that art is taking on - it seems in part, a form of giving up. Yet, it seems a vital role that will be needed in the time to come. I think right now what I am witnessing in this trend is mourning, but also the looming knowledge that there will be more to come, if we let it.

Detergent

This is Dulcinea, beating a load of a friend's jeans. All those suds? That's detergent. Detergent that didn't wash out of his clothes when he washed them.

Any papermaker worth their sizing knows this. You only need the barest amount of detergent - in fact, you can sometimes skip it. Detergent not only stays in the fibers of your clothing (where, in my case, makes me itchy all day), it builds up in your washing machine.

By the way, I scraped suds off the top of this load SEVERAL TIMES.

Washing machines and dishwashers are made to use far less water now than older models and, therefore, need less soap. And detergents have also become increasingly concentrated. So a little goes a long way.

“Most people use 10 to 15 times the amount of soap they need, and they’re pouring money down the drain,” Mr. Schmidt said...

... “If people see suds, they think their clothes are getting clean, but that’s wrong — it means you’re using a lot of extra detergent,” Ms. Notini said.

Here is Mr. Schmidt’s test to determine if you’re oversoaping. Take four to six clean bath towels, put them in your front-loading washing machine (one towel for a top loader). Don’t add any detergent or fabric softener. Switch to the hot water setting and medium wash and run it for about five minutes.

Check for soap suds. If you don’t see any suds right away, turn off the machine and see if there is any soapy residue. If you see suds or residue, it is soap coming out of your clothes from the last wash.

“I’ve had customers that had to run their towels through as many as eight times to get the soap out,” Mr. Schmidt said, who lives in Indiana.

(Source.)

Laundry detergents contain sodium triphosphate, which causes eutrophication. Green laundry detergents do better, but maybe, also, consider using less laundry detergent?

Riding the waves

This past week has had a strange melancholy to it. The previous week, Robert was in Stanford Hospital receiving an experimental treatment, which so far has proved to be inconclusive at best, but was most likely unsuccessful. At the same time, Hurricane Sandy pummeled the East Coast, and several friends have been without power or electricity for days.

It's so odd to be here, in beautiful, sunny California, while 3000 miles away people are cold and hungry, in places like lower Manhattan, the richest city in the world. Complicated by my personal struggle as a caretaker/my partner's health issues, I end up feeling isolated and guilty. My troubles are not shared, and do not have a an end in sight, yet at the same time, are not immediately pressing like those of people in Hoboken or Staten Island.

Last year, my in-laws lost all their belongings when their house was flooded by Hurricane Irene. As fundraiser for them, I ended up selling the print above, and I've found myself thinking about it a great deal this week. Fortunately, this year, for them, the creek didn't rise enough to flood their home, although they have been without heat or electricity for a week.

I find myself turning to poetry for comfort, guidance, insight. Poets like Mary Oliver, Pablo Neruda, Rainer Maria Rilke. And then, today, the poem below caught my eye. I have a copy of it on my fridge. It's been there for years, ever since my senior year of college when my teacher, Shelley Thorstensen, gave it to me. I just noticed it again after being blind to it. Shelley didn't know the author, or even the title, and I can't see to find it on Google. It may actually not be a poem, just a list of lifeboat survival techniques. But it can be an overall metaphor for getting through a tough time.

Keep riding the waves.
When there's a lull, take a rest.
If you have crackers, eat them sparingly.
Icebergs are dangerous, but are a source of pure water.
Eventually, you might see a ship. Fire off the flare gun, toward it.
Wave at all aircraft, but do not yell; they cannot hear.
If raft overturns, hold ropes on all sides.
All parties must be on the same side, to turn raft upright.
Be sure the automatic harpoon is pointed towards the water.
Rebroadcast your current location at regular intervals.
If you see birds, row toward where they fly.
Beware of using sharp objects inside raft.
Do not eat any species of blowfish.
When you hear the sound of breaking waves, be ready to make landfall.
The Bermuda Triangle is populated with giant squid, a source of protein, which will feed two people for many days.
Rest as often as possible, but keep an eye on the horizon.

If anyone knows who or where this is from, please let me know in the comments.

In related news, if you feel like helping and are far away like me, text REDCROSS to 90999 to donate $10 to go specifically to Hurricane Sandy relief.

"Rag Men" at the Sonoma Valley Museum of Art

Last Sunday I went to the Sonoma Valley Museum of Art for their presentation, "Rag Men," part of The Art of Handmade Paper exhibition (see my previous post here). It featured the curator, Simon Blattner, and Bryce Seidl, director of the Pacific Science Center, who is a also a paper historian and collector, as well as responsible for loaning many of the objects to the museum of the exhibition.

Most of Bryce's objects were left to him by his father, Roger Seidl, who was assigned by the US Government to assist and coordinate the rebuilding of the Japanese paper industry after WWII. Our country had bombed most of the paper mills, and during the reconstruction Roger Seidl ended up befriending many papermakers, who gifted him with some of the objects that were on display as part of the show.

Their discussion centered around the history of the commercial paper industry, which Bryce had worked in for years before his time at the Pacific Science Center. Much of it was just explaining the basics of how paper is made to those who were unfamiliar in the audience, but Bryce was able to rattle off facts - such as each person in the US still goes through 700 pounds of paper a year - that would have eluded me. He stressed that the paper industry has actually become much more environmentally friendly, with abilities to do things like recycle heat from the manufacturing for drying the paper, recycling the processing chemicals, and recycling paper in general. He stressed that the alternative to paper in most situations is plastics, from the petroleum industry, and that tree-based paper is a much more environmentally friendly alternative. Which, I guess when you think about it that way, is true. Although I will argue that that doesn't mean we shouldn't make intelligent choices about how we use paper.

Towards the end of the discussion, someone asked if either of these men thought that we would ever be a totally paper-free society, as the digital age progressed. Bryce said he didn't believe so, and also pointed out that as use of paper declines for things like books or business memos or whatever, we will still use it for toliet paper or tissues, and asked the audience to imagine a world without toliet paper. It was a very cogent point.

It was a good discussion, however I wished they had touched on the relevance, vitality, and importance of handmade paper as a contemporary art form.

I was fortunate to talk to Bryce a bit after the discussion, and he was excited to learn that I as an artist who was working with watermarks. Our discussion led him to ask the museum to pull out one of the objects they had chosen not to display out of storage, a large watermark his former paper company had produced that he wanted to show me.

I also had a chance to see the parts of the exhibition I'd missed in the crowd, such as this piece by Helen Hiebert:

Finally, I got to spend some time with the installation of Tibetan prayer flags and paper in the front of the museum. I forgot to note the information down about the story behind the piece, but nonetheless, it was beautiful.

Fibershed Papermaking Workshop

This month has been a whirlwind, and I've barely been able to keep up with this blog, as exemplified by the tardiness of this post. Two weeks ago I taught an intensive papermaking workshop for the Fibershed. Specifically, it involved a group of teachers from the Marin County school system who are incorporating sustainable and bio-regional art making activities into their curriculum.

The class covered how to paper from vegetables, invasive plants, and clothing. Here, some students harvest Andean Pampas Grass seed hair.

The class also covered various preparation methods, from hand beating, to blenders, to the beater itself. Many of the teachers really liked the idea of a classroom full of kids expending their energy by hand beating fiber, but to me it sounds like a cacophonous nightmare.

After learning about prep, we moved on to actual sheet forming. I also discussed techniques on preventing water from getting everywhere in a classroom situation. Over the course of the day, I kept making jokes about kids and how they react to various art classroom situations, and how I tend to handle them, which kept the teachers amused. One even commented that it would be very entertaining to watch me handle a group of kids making paper.

It was a great class, and great to share papermaking with a group of enthusiastic people who asked so many good questions, danced around my studio, and kept me on my toes the entire day.

"The Art of Handmade Paper" at the Sonoma Valley Museum of Art

Some of the Population Dynamics series is currently part of the exhibition, The Art of Handmade Paper, at the Sonoma Valley Museum of Art, in Sonoma, CA. The exhibition is up till the end of December, and last Friday I went up for the opening reception.

The show is predominately focused on the history of handmade paper, featuring a few contemporary artists like myself, as well as one of my teachers, Lynn Sures:

Also featuring a tiny little hand-crank beater. This made me think of all the discussions I've had with fellow papermakers about a bicycle-powered beater (which was finally developed by Lee Scott Mcdonald), although several people found pedaling while grinding rag pretty onerous (and could you imagine trying to make something like high-shrinkage? Hours and hours of pedaling!) Anyway, made me wonder if this would be better or worse.

Two other intriguing historic objects included were these fusan bakudan, or Japanese fire balloons. For those unfamiliar with the history, during World War II, these were washi balloons that were used to carry bombs across the Pacific towards the United States, floating along Jet Stream air currents. I gather that most did not make it, but some did. It brings to mind a conversation I had with Mary years ago in which she said something to the affect of," I don't know whether to be horrified or like, YAY PAPER!"

The show is up to December 30, and there is talk with the curator on October 28 at the museum.

On a related note, I was recently interviewed by Discover Paper. Check it out here.

Watermarks in Corn Husk

Work continues on my Corporate Corn series since my last post on the topic. Above, a mould with the McDonald's logo. Below, its result, along with the Monsanto logo.

A detail of the Monsanto watermark while still wet:

A General Mills watermark, freshly pulled:

Some results fresh out the drying box:

I'm planning on a series of ten in all, all of corporations that drive our corn-based food system. I'm hoping that when seen as a group, with the knowledge that the fiber itself is corn (husk), the overwhelming basis for GMO corn in processed food systems will be apparent.

Sneak Peek - Agents of Change, Artists As Activists, installation photos

I feel like this post should begin with the words: It was a dark and stormy night, in a nod to the way Snoopy always began his novels. Thought it's not that stormy, or even dark right now, but I'm proud and humbled to be a part of the upcoming exhibition at the Jean and Charles M. Schultz (yes, that Charles M. Shultz) Memorial Library Gallery! The exhibition, Agents of Change, Artists As Activists, features work by yours truly, as well as the Guerilla Girls, Betty Kano, Art Hazelwood, Occuprint, and a few others.

Here are a few sneak peeks of the installation in progress - my Ghost Trees:

This amazing piece by Betty Kano:

Occuprint posters:

Art Hazelwood representin' Occupy Oakland:

And the Guerilla Girls!

The opening reception will from 3-5 on Thursday, September 13, and will include a voter registration drive. Hope to see some of you there!

Richmond Library Papermaking

I was fortunate to teach a short, introductory papermaking workshop this weekend at the Richmond Public Library. So lovely to teach close to home. It was a promotion for Richmond Grows Seed Library, focusing on using leftover food materials. As examples, I had prepared artichoke and corn husk, as well as some leftover daylily-palm bark-fennel-hodge-podge mix leftover from the Papermaking with Plants workshop. The daylily in particular I'd scavenged on a walk past the Richmond Art Center while they were pruning, and it felt very appropriate to share it with fellow Richmond folks.

Just a reminder - there are still spaces for this Saturday, August 18's, Watermark Workshop in San Francisco at Bryant Street Studios. Follow the link to register.

Late Night Papermaking

As a promotion for my upcoming Watermark Workshop, I thought I'd post some of experiments for a new suite of watermarked handmade papers that I'm working on.

I'm tentatively calling the series Corn and Corporations, and the suite, of which this is the first, will be a series of logos of corporations that are part of our corn-based food systems. Though I guess technically, the USDA isn't a corporation, but it's part of the overall system.

Above is one of the laser-cut vinyl watermarks that John Sullivan of Logos Graphics made for me on a mould. Below are some tests.

The watermark, made of corn husk fiber, has been couched onto a sheet of denim. Together, these two fibers with this watermark embody the mythology and reality of our food systems and the American heartland.

I'm curious how the paper will look dried, if the denim will be too dark and the corn husk too light for clarity.

There is still time to register for my Watermark Workshop! And check out the photos from our past workshops - Papermaking with Plants and Pulp Painting.

Interview on Manufactured Dissent

This week I was interviewed by Manufactured Dissent. Check it out here.

Fibershed Camp Papermaking Workshop

This week I was so happy and excited to teach a workshop for the Fibershed Camp! My workshop was the last day of their camp - before I came, they had been dying, felting, weaving, and generally learning the basics of how to grow and/or raise their own fiber, as well as the understanding of issues of locality and sustainability in relationship to the clothing industry.

And on the last day, they got to learn how, after their clothes wear out, they can be re-purposed into paper!

I wanted to give the kids the idea of how something like jeans become paper, so we began with the kids having a chance to cut up some jeans. I was a little nervous that the kids would instantly become bored with such a beginning, however this group was blessed with good attitudes. Other than the issue of lacking any left-handed scissors for one child, they all seemed excited to chop up some jeans.

However, I ddin't want to lose time beating (and moving my beater is a whole other issue), so, as Rhiannon likes to say, we did it cooking show style. As they were cutting, I explained how this fiber would need to be soaked and beaten, and then voila! brought out the pulp I had prepared in advance.

Once I pulled out the pulp, the kids couldn't get their hands out of the bucket. We almost had to physically pull them away so they could learn to actually make the paper.

But once we got started....

...things just took off! Some of the tables were a little tall for the kids, so some took to standing on chairs to reach the pulp.

Below, Rebecca and a camper pull sheets.

Finally, the paper was pressed and transferred to paper towels for the kids to take home.

My workshop was in the morning; my afternoon was just spend hanging out at the farm and getting to know the kids a little bit.

The garden has certainly grown since my last visit!

The coreopsis was blooming while I was there.

After lunch, I went with Julie, the kids, the dogs, and the goats on a short little hike to see the waterfall on her property.

Spending time on Julie's farm makes me dream of moving to rural Marin, planting flax and starting a full-on papermill. Heck, Lagunitas Creek was once known as Papermill Creek, so there's evidence of a precedent. If only....