Kurre Exhibition at the Eric Fischl Gallery

ihet – july/august 2018 – issue 234

The Eric Fischl Gallery is a great environment for exhibiting and viewing art.  For my exhibition, it’s all new work. Both paintings and objects, so it promises to be a good show.  The opening reception is on Monday evening, September 17th from 5:30-8pm. I’d love to have you join me, so save the date and come see the new work.

Clyfford Still is one of my all-time favorite painters and visiting the Clyfford Still Museum, in Denver, has been on my list. I’d tie myself in knots trying to choose a favorite, but this painting, 1944-N No. 1 would certainly be in the mix.  There’s a boundless volume of color in his paintings, but this black is just fearless.   “Black was never a color of death or terror for me. I think of it as warm – and generative.” Clyfford Still. – To view more of Still’s work – The Clyfford Still Museum 

“Abstraction allows [one] to see with his mind what he cannot see physically with his eyes . . . [it] enables the artist to perceive beyond the tangible, to extract the infinite out of the finite. . . . It is an exploration into unknown areas.” This quote by Arshile Gorkey was included with the exhibit and for me captures what all art attempts to achieve. Gorkey’s work bridged the gap between surrealism and abstract expressionism and is considered one of the seminal artists of his time.  For more on Arshile Gorkey visit – The Arshile Gorkey Foundation.

The show at Fischl Gallery has provided the impetus to give my website some much-needed attention.  So rather than just a bit of polish, I decided to do a complete overhaul. Take a look and let me know what you think . . . charleskurre.com

Besides the website revamps, I’ve been putting finishing touches on work for the exhibition. The most recent . . . A layered history of remembrance, a bridge between then an now. Tuning perception to desire’s needs. Deconstructed elementals assembling the kite.

And no, it wouldn’t be Summer without a bit of beach time . . .

Found on the street by my studio, drawn by one of the neighborhood kids. 

 

Thanks for reading.

Charles

Back to Black and Other Reflections

ihet – january  2018 – issue 231

Bang, bang, bang . . . twenty seventeen  . . .  it’s done and gone and I’m thinking a quick review is just the ticket.  So this is it . . . a year of paintings and an brief inside look at how the Monuments Series of sculptures came to be.

I like the idea of mixing it up, compare and contrast. The paintings are shown in pairs, partnered up by virtue of the same inexact science that helps drive my creative process. The first image is of a new painting The Sleepwalking Beast (#31), all other paintings are from this year’s posts.

The Monuments have dominated my recent creative output. Beginning as a pleasant byproduct of organizational efforts, they’ve assumed a life of their own. This second grouping of photographs show the early development of the work, from creative play to the first primitive vignette. The subsequent  photographs are reproductions of the background scenery taken from the finished work.  A note on my photographic efforts. I relentlessly document my world in pictures. Besides a simple record of time and energy, these images end up being source material for my work, including the original urban images for the monuments. The landscape image is taken from a paint by number from my collection and the list is from my notebooks. Theses images have been digitally manipulated for this work.

For a closer look at The Monuments click here.  For more on the paintings please go to ithappenseverytuesday.com  click on Archives. Here you’ll find a list of posts from the past years, select a month and year and enjoy.

Thanks for reading.

Charles

The Long View

ihet october / november  2017 issue 230

When being kind, I regard my propensity to acquire random junk, as collecting. It’s an infatuation fed through impulse and curiosity, stilted toward harvesting discarded mechanical and industrial minutiae.

The reason I’m bring this up . . . I was attempting to implement a method for organizing my confused jumble of things . . . but what actually happened was an exercise linking the bits and pieces together into a celebration of imagined histories.  Here they are . . . The Monuments. Top Left. Monument for a Machine Painting the End of Time and a Hole to Fall Into. In commemoration of artificial nostalgia, this piece was the first official Monument and established the format for the series as theatrical vignettes. The vintage frame and interior images are photographs mounted on board. The frame stand was assembled with machine parts harvested from dental devices. A photograph taken in 2011 from the Paulina “L” stop on Chicago’s Brown Line, provides the backdrop. All Monuments are presented on an eight by ten inch panel.

Top right. Monument for Into the Wild.  In commemoration of the domestication of the natural world. (with thanks: Salvador Dali Riding In A Goat Cart).  The monument is constructed from locally harvested woods, a billiard ball, chain, brass wire, nylon replica of a quail egg, and bottle cap, on glass.  A photo of vintage paint by number, provides the backdrop.

Bottom Left. Monument for a Prime. In commemoration of organizational obsessions . A number five pool ball and cast metal obelisk balanced on a plinth of lacquered wood, glass, and map cube. The backdrop is a photograph of the prime number list I use to assign numerical designations to specific paintings.

Bottom Right. Monument to the Repudiation of Science. In commemoration of a future of the past. A quail egg with drawn elements, dental machine parts, steel ball bearing and painted wood. The backdrop photo was taken while traveling south on I10 toward Tucson.

It’s not all nuts and bolts, tongue in cheek, or just plain fun . . . the last couple of paintings are killing me. Attempts at progress are abominations. Hopeful in their application, disaster in their effect. A series of events painful yet familiar and reluctantly welcome.  It’s harbinger of change, and as the struggle goes on, I know for certain, this will pass.

Meanwhile, no sense letting the good bits go to waste.

It’s idle hands rendered in black and white, plus this detail, scaled down, reprinted, cut out, and applied. The garden of my secret life reimagined as landscape with beet stems and ribbons of paper, eclipsed by premonitions of transformation.

Thanks for reading.

Charles.

click here – To read November’s entries in the 1999 project piece It Happens Every Tuesday.