This installation consists of a 5′ x 8′ print on paper, a collection of carved wooden block sculptures of various sizes, a set of chess pieces whittled from twigs, a dried common mullein plant, a representation of a monumental roadside religious pilgrimage site built by a distant cousin of mine, my grandmother’s drawing of a piece of driftwood, and the actual piece of driftwood. The matrices from which the print was made are carved and engraved on the set of sculptural blocks. Some are patterns, others contain images and/or words, while still others are typographic sets of letters and punctuation marks in two different sizes. I have been carving this series of blocks and printing them in various combinations since 2005. For awhile I was doing street performances using the blocks, in a project I called Footprint Factory, and they were also a part of A Work of Art.
The chess pieces are arranged such that all the high ranking pieces have not moved from where they started, but the pawns are gathered at the center of the board, as though conspiring together around a long feasting table laden with food.
The message in the patterned, quilt-like patchwork of prints reads as follows: ”
WE’VE WORKED SO HARD FOR YOU
BUT KEEP YOUR MONEY, HONEY-!
TAKE IT, & HIDE IT SOMEPLACE
WE DON’T REALLY NEED IT:
WE ARE RICH IN LOVE
When I was young, my family, like the vast majority of families that share this Earth, did not have a lot of money. We struggled to get by in those days, and we still do. But we did have some love, and I must insist that it will always mean so much more, in spite of everything we’ve been conditioned to believe, here in the brutal clutches of capitalism.
I made this print on commission from Kate Riley. She said she wanted something for her best friend Nora. Nora’s favorite story is the Parable of the Prodigal Son a.k.a. the Running Father from the Bible. I read Henri Nouwen’s book about Rembrandt’s painting of the story. It gave me a lot to think about in terms of my own family and the human family more generally. I made two new carvings, which you see repeated in the bottom of the print. Both are self portraits from photographs, one laughing, one crying. The other images are assembled from blocks I had made in the past: a tree, some people in the Siberian landscape of my memories, and a visual feast of food within a house frame, from the recent print project “the Land Gives…” The original text in this piece I did by hand in oak gall ink. I made it in an edition of three. One went to Nora, and I have two left.
I was in a funk that winter. Making these drawings kind of got me going on making stuff again, but I think you can tell I was in a funk when you look at the drawings. I made them for this online residency project that Gabriela Vainsencher organized for a different artist to make a drawing every day for a week: the Morning Drawing Residency. Go to the link to see all the drawings.
This is a work I made at the Center for Book Arts in 2012 when I was a resident artist there. It consists of thirty-six woodcuts and wood engravings from all six sides of six handmade type-high (0.918″) blocks of maple, with an original narrative text & list poem handset in lead Caslon Antique type, letterpress printed in seven colors on a paper booklet & fold-out broadside. For sale in the Emporium of Real Things.
This is not just any old business card, but a parody of one, which opens out to an accordion-fold book with a very long, very irreverent list-poem of every job or identity construct I have ever had in my life. I made this book while I was a resident at the Center for Book Arts in New York, using hand set lead type on a Vandercook letterpress, in three press runs. It is printed on lightweight chinese tissue paper with a cardstock cover. I put a pretty insane amount of hours into producing these books, which are in an edition of 200. The typesetting and printing alone took several hundred hours, not to mention the cutting and folding of each one. It sort of became a marathon meditation on how changeable identity is and how we present ourselves in all these different complex ways depending on the situation. Doing all that work to produce this ridiculous thing with highly questionable use value was somehow therapeutic, and appropriate, in thinking about the choices and sacrifices we make for the sake of the holy dollar or whatever.
3 3/8″ x 2″ x 3/32″ (closed), 3 3/8″ x 52″ x 1/64″ (open). 2012. Edition of 200. For sale on a sliding scale depending on your income, at the Emporium of Real Things. Barter is also a possibility: contact me. The info is on the business card.
Click on the long skinny image at the left two times to make it big enough that you can read it.
This work imagines what it would be like to convene an inter-species committee about the monumental environmental crises we face on Earth. The acronym, C.R.I.E.R.S., stands for “the Committee for Relentless Inquiry into the Earth’s Regretful Situation.” Click on the image to view it bigger so you can read it.
Handset letterpress, original text, four color reduction woodcut, additional marks made in homemade oak gall ink and storebought shellac paint. Printed at the Center for Book Arts in 2012. Edition of 15 deluxe four color, plus 45 single color. 14 1/2″ x 11″. For sale at the Emcee C.M. Emporium.
This book was made at the UConn printshop using Gus Mazzocca’s offset press, embosograf, and screenprint, in 2004. I made drawings of everything in my toolbox at the time, and grouped them into rough categories. The book is hardbound in an edition of 67 with a few extras that are softbound. For sale in the Emporium.
This was a studio process project I did in 2002 when I was a senior in college, and had my own art studio for the first time. I made a series of sculptures from a bunch of found junk; each time constructing something, taking a slide photograph of it, making a screen print based on the construction, then taking it apart and reconfiguring the materials for the next cycle. The project was shown as a suite of 10 prints and a new arrangement of the objects, along with a slide projector automatically advancing to simulate the chug-chug sound of a train, while flashing images of the previous configurations on the wall. I still have copies of all the prints. If you want one, buy one at the Emporium of Real Things. They’re actually not bad, although this photo sure could be better: