I am obsessed with line, the most basic element of art, a mark made by human assertion, an indication of the self awareness. We seek its definitive absolution, its calming assurance that there is something to be done with this condition we find ourselves in.. We can make a mark, we can leave a mark.and in so doing we stay alive.
The line then essentially encompasses everything we know with any clarity, simply because we can make a line. That line then can become anything, from the most simple self mark to our most treasured sophisticated symbols of human communication, of math, science,language.
As an artist I have always been in love with the line. I began making art by drawing, the act of making lines to suggest images or shapes.
Lately my obsession seeks the reassurance of the ultimate line, the horizon line.The one line that remains a a mystery, distant, an unreachable illusion, yet constant, there to offer its its dependable stillness.
Like a voyager on a stormy sea I look to the horizon, seeking its serenity to calm my life's anxiety.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Kate Miller in MOCA, UNF Faculty exhibit
Kate Miller is pleased to participate in the Museum of Contemprary Art, MOCA, UNF faculty Art and Design Exhibition. Go to : http://www.mocajacksonville.org/current/10-UNF-faculty
Friday, September 23, 2011
My Secrets of Beauty and Joy( or Directions for Avoidance of the Pain of Contemporary Life
A FEW DIRECTIONS FOR SAFELY HANGING ON TO THE AMERICAN DREAM:
Begin each status quo awakening by infiltrating your bloodstream with sufficient enough amounts of cardboard cupped caffeinated fuel to face the assault of pornographic heinous violence and, sticky soft pop that greets your sleepy-eyed morning.
Continue to amp your metabolic racing resistance on your treadmill to submission until your self-righteousness is filled with enough zeal to eradicate dissatisfaction, pity or creativity.
In the case of continued tingling emotional empathy or stirring original thought, add 10 or more milligrams of preferred Watson or Phizer product , (Prozac, Xanax, Adderall) or read mind-numbing morning meditations and/or your choice of Religious dogma until necessary apathy is achieved.
With take-out plastic topped Starbucks in hand and blue-toothed insulation in-ear, settle into your leather seat-belted-carbon-emitting shiny American/Japanese SUV. Accelerate to 70 mph to enabling passage through abject poverty and repulsive homelessness that remain only vaguely visable in the moving background. Do not for any reason slow down or disengage consumption of beverage or talk radio.
Chat, twitter and text along with the bombardment of noisy static designed to protect you from any terrifying revelations of silence . Sing your favorite Walmart, MacDonalds or other corporate jingle to create a comfortable zombie-like semi-consciousness.
A FEW NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS:
Hold fast to a local events calendar to enable escape planning, purchase as much as possible to ensure fulfillment of your American rights and duties and X off the passing days towards anticipated holidays, parties,festivals, games and other events. Stay as busy and engaged as possible to avoid possible long droughts of desperation or famines of fear. Drink large amounts of numbing alcohol and seek psychotronic medication if necessary. Other suggestions for snapping yourself out of threatening self reflection include; purchasing season tickets for the home team game hysteria ,a great way to express your frustration, or joining The Club to re-assure your position of righteousness and satisfy the need for belonging.
If neither the game nor the club re-ignites your Patriotic and Righteous unconsciousness, go quickly and often to the nearest mall. There you will surely find comfort in the washed out musac while losing unwanted pieces of nagging soul. After you have consumed copious amounts of food products from the Mall Court and maxed out your newest credit extension return to your suburban domicile and quickly turn on your Mega sized HDTV to your favorite show already in progress and ready to bring you back to "reality".
DANGEROUS MOMENTS TO AVOID AT ALL COSTS.
Never, I repeat, never, allow enough solitude, self-analysis or empty air time for original thoughts that may disturb your precarious balance of sanity and pretension with doubts of the realness of your existence and certainty that each breath brings you closer to oblivion.
Always be aware the waiting ambush that no amount of boy-scout, teacher-organized, five-year planned preparation can prevent, when a piercing pain, indistiguishable from pleasure, attacks you in an unprotected moment with a sudden vision of shining and unexpected beauty so glorious it may shatter your construct of power and purpose.
With trepidition and caution, bravely go forth knowing there is not medicine, religion or therapy sufficient to arm you from surprising and overwhelming moments of ecstatic joy so engulfing as to reveal a possibility of another reality, unknown dimension, or positive mental state of enlightenment.
To these ends I endure my life.
Begin each status quo awakening by infiltrating your bloodstream with sufficient enough amounts of cardboard cupped caffeinated fuel to face the assault of pornographic heinous violence and, sticky soft pop that greets your sleepy-eyed morning.
Continue to amp your metabolic racing resistance on your treadmill to submission until your self-righteousness is filled with enough zeal to eradicate dissatisfaction, pity or creativity.
In the case of continued tingling emotional empathy or stirring original thought, add 10 or more milligrams of preferred Watson or Phizer product , (Prozac, Xanax, Adderall) or read mind-numbing morning meditations and/or your choice of Religious dogma until necessary apathy is achieved.
With take-out plastic topped Starbucks in hand and blue-toothed insulation in-ear, settle into your leather seat-belted-carbon-emitting shiny American/Japanese SUV. Accelerate to 70 mph to enabling passage through abject poverty and repulsive homelessness that remain only vaguely visable in the moving background. Do not for any reason slow down or disengage consumption of beverage or talk radio.
Chat, twitter and text along with the bombardment of noisy static designed to protect you from any terrifying revelations of silence . Sing your favorite Walmart, MacDonalds or other corporate jingle to create a comfortable zombie-like semi-consciousness.
A FEW NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS:
Hold fast to a local events calendar to enable escape planning, purchase as much as possible to ensure fulfillment of your American rights and duties and X off the passing days towards anticipated holidays, parties,festivals, games and other events. Stay as busy and engaged as possible to avoid possible long droughts of desperation or famines of fear. Drink large amounts of numbing alcohol and seek psychotronic medication if necessary. Other suggestions for snapping yourself out of threatening self reflection include; purchasing season tickets for the home team game hysteria ,a great way to express your frustration, or joining The Club to re-assure your position of righteousness and satisfy the need for belonging.
If neither the game nor the club re-ignites your Patriotic and Righteous unconsciousness, go quickly and often to the nearest mall. There you will surely find comfort in the washed out musac while losing unwanted pieces of nagging soul. After you have consumed copious amounts of food products from the Mall Court and maxed out your newest credit extension return to your suburban domicile and quickly turn on your Mega sized HDTV to your favorite show already in progress and ready to bring you back to "reality".
DANGEROUS MOMENTS TO AVOID AT ALL COSTS.
Never, I repeat, never, allow enough solitude, self-analysis or empty air time for original thoughts that may disturb your precarious balance of sanity and pretension with doubts of the realness of your existence and certainty that each breath brings you closer to oblivion.
Always be aware the waiting ambush that no amount of boy-scout, teacher-organized, five-year planned preparation can prevent, when a piercing pain, indistiguishable from pleasure, attacks you in an unprotected moment with a sudden vision of shining and unexpected beauty so glorious it may shatter your construct of power and purpose.
With trepidition and caution, bravely go forth knowing there is not medicine, religion or therapy sufficient to arm you from surprising and overwhelming moments of ecstatic joy so engulfing as to reveal a possibility of another reality, unknown dimension, or positive mental state of enlightenment.
To these ends I endure my life.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Whistling pretty songs
My work is that of finding connections between vast spaces of emptiness. I am on constant watch for those things that seem to somehow synthesize the disparate and seemingly meaningless moments of daily life. I am a an investigator, in search of proof.
As a child I did not question my life. I simply believed in the myths that I was given. I went to Sunday school for my soul and public school for my mind. I was loved by my family and had many freinds. A life of rich relations, comfort and success was my heritage. I found all the promises glorious, and had no reason to doubt, I had faith in the infinity of the earth and took solace in the immortality of my soul. I was the product of American 1950s idealism, a true believer.
As I got a little older the turmoil of the sixties began to rock my proverbial boat and Donna Read gave way to images of Viet Nam and Civil Rights marches. I began to question. Lingering insecurity began its job of deterioration.
At my home we had crisis of our own and soon my Father would leave the happy household for another apparently happier one. So, undying love, family above all, blood over money? Scams, all of them, nothing but air, cliches. What then was real?.
I began to send out messages, prayers, desparate pleas, searching need, they all told me that Jesus would hear, he would listen and he would respond He had after all, died for me, he loved me and would undoubtedly be there if only I tried hard enough to reach out. I had many questions for Jesus and so I in my childish voice sent out prayers of pure and naiive simplicity, prayers that only a true heart could utter. I prayed long and hard to the blond sweet faced barefoot man I had seen in the Golden books and on the Sunday School posters in the childrens room. I needed answers about his bigger plan, surely there must be one. And so Ibegan with all of my young earnest effort to say the right words, I tried the ones I had been taught and I tried my own ,I sang the songs and worked to purify my thoughts,still none got through.
My freinds, my cousins,my family all seemed to have secret personal relationships with the almighty but I was ignored..
Eventually I decided that either Jesus was a lie like Santa Claus or a sort of comforting idea like a Teddy Bear to hold on to at night. Either way he wasnt there, not for me. I watched and listened for clues to what it all meant. Discovering no path to Jesus I concluded that they all were in on the conspiracy, it was a plot and I was an outsider.
Jesus asked me, "Are you saved? I didnt know what that meant, but Jimi (aka Hendrix) asked " Are you experienced?" To that I could relate.
So life my adolescence became about living from one moment to the next, making enough noise and commotion to fill the empty spaces. I was fine as long as nothing stopped, so I kept on moving. TV, music,drugs, parties, the opposite sex, and the buzz of life created enough static to avoid the vacancy I saw in the mirror.
Eventually I settled into some patterns, found things I liked, people I could tolerate and a way of life that seemed, well if not the American Dream, at least full of surprises and moments of ecstatic joy and along the way somewhere I discovered the beauty of silence.
At some point it became clear to me that all those people and institutions and books that had made all those declarations of truth and absolution were just lies, they were all just whistling pretty songs. Their deception was not evil or devious, instead they whistled as a way to feel peace, music can do that you know, a temporary solace.
Now with the very earth in peril, my children's children's lives unsure and nothing safe to hang a dream on , I love and I make art. I look and listen, read, write and watch. I collect and synthesize, seeking out even the vaguest of connections. Serendipity is my faithful servant, the sound of the ocean, the sun on my face, the touch of my loyal lover, the only proof I look for now.
My art is about the re-assimilation of fragmentation.The underlying armatures continue to break in front of my eyes but in the spaces that sometimes appear I find moments of peace. I cant for the life of me quite remember the tunes of those old pretty songs and in their absence I find a silence. It is the emptiness of ongoing pain and endless stife of living.
I have a constant need to build and repair the damage even as it continues in front of my eyes. It is my essential quest, to repair, to patch, to build .The work never ends but with enough effort I am able to piece together something, enough to hang my life on.
As a child I did not question my life. I simply believed in the myths that I was given. I went to Sunday school for my soul and public school for my mind. I was loved by my family and had many freinds. A life of rich relations, comfort and success was my heritage. I found all the promises glorious, and had no reason to doubt, I had faith in the infinity of the earth and took solace in the immortality of my soul. I was the product of American 1950s idealism, a true believer.
As I got a little older the turmoil of the sixties began to rock my proverbial boat and Donna Read gave way to images of Viet Nam and Civil Rights marches. I began to question. Lingering insecurity began its job of deterioration.
At my home we had crisis of our own and soon my Father would leave the happy household for another apparently happier one. So, undying love, family above all, blood over money? Scams, all of them, nothing but air, cliches. What then was real?.
I began to send out messages, prayers, desparate pleas, searching need, they all told me that Jesus would hear, he would listen and he would respond He had after all, died for me, he loved me and would undoubtedly be there if only I tried hard enough to reach out. I had many questions for Jesus and so I in my childish voice sent out prayers of pure and naiive simplicity, prayers that only a true heart could utter. I prayed long and hard to the blond sweet faced barefoot man I had seen in the Golden books and on the Sunday School posters in the childrens room. I needed answers about his bigger plan, surely there must be one. And so Ibegan with all of my young earnest effort to say the right words, I tried the ones I had been taught and I tried my own ,I sang the songs and worked to purify my thoughts,still none got through.
My freinds, my cousins,my family all seemed to have secret personal relationships with the almighty but I was ignored..
Eventually I decided that either Jesus was a lie like Santa Claus or a sort of comforting idea like a Teddy Bear to hold on to at night. Either way he wasnt there, not for me. I watched and listened for clues to what it all meant. Discovering no path to Jesus I concluded that they all were in on the conspiracy, it was a plot and I was an outsider.
Jesus asked me, "Are you saved? I didnt know what that meant, but Jimi (aka Hendrix) asked " Are you experienced?" To that I could relate.
So life my adolescence became about living from one moment to the next, making enough noise and commotion to fill the empty spaces. I was fine as long as nothing stopped, so I kept on moving. TV, music,drugs, parties, the opposite sex, and the buzz of life created enough static to avoid the vacancy I saw in the mirror.
Eventually I settled into some patterns, found things I liked, people I could tolerate and a way of life that seemed, well if not the American Dream, at least full of surprises and moments of ecstatic joy and along the way somewhere I discovered the beauty of silence.
At some point it became clear to me that all those people and institutions and books that had made all those declarations of truth and absolution were just lies, they were all just whistling pretty songs. Their deception was not evil or devious, instead they whistled as a way to feel peace, music can do that you know, a temporary solace.
Now with the very earth in peril, my children's children's lives unsure and nothing safe to hang a dream on , I love and I make art. I look and listen, read, write and watch. I collect and synthesize, seeking out even the vaguest of connections. Serendipity is my faithful servant, the sound of the ocean, the sun on my face, the touch of my loyal lover, the only proof I look for now.
My art is about the re-assimilation of fragmentation.The underlying armatures continue to break in front of my eyes but in the spaces that sometimes appear I find moments of peace. I cant for the life of me quite remember the tunes of those old pretty songs and in their absence I find a silence. It is the emptiness of ongoing pain and endless stife of living.
I have a constant need to build and repair the damage even as it continues in front of my eyes. It is my essential quest, to repair, to patch, to build .The work never ends but with enough effort I am able to piece together something, enough to hang my life on.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Artist Statement
My Identity: I am a mixed media artist. I work in any medium that captures my interest and accomplishes my need.
My process: I begin with a thought, an image, a found object, something overheard or read or sometimes an emotional state. Relationships appear out of random happenstance or deliberation. I rely on serendipity and coincidence as much as cognitive consideration. Chance, choice, process and assimilation eventually makes a connection and the piece resolves itself.
My medium:Although I never rule out any media I am currently infatuated with wax, it is luxurious and sensuous, it melts, melds and creates a membrane for my work. It is indeed the tissue that holds the mirad of stuff that is my work. It is like skin.
My work: I am involved constantly in making my own materials. I buy raw materials and create encaustic medium and encaustic paint. I use my medium and pigments in my work and workshops. I teach foundation classes in an academic setting and mixed media and encaustic workshops in my studio.
My Thoughts: As I work, juxtapositions that seem to randomly happen give reason to the vast disconnection I feel in everyday life and help my efforts to organize the noisy bombardment of stimuli.
I listen, observe seek our and make connections. I draw, paint,and collect and combine , I read and write. My muse is an unconscious intiution and my decisions are an eternal surprise.
The work itself creates and re-creates who I am and who I become. It contains my life and speaks of my experience. My art is a construction of self.
My process: I begin with a thought, an image, a found object, something overheard or read or sometimes an emotional state. Relationships appear out of random happenstance or deliberation. I rely on serendipity and coincidence as much as cognitive consideration. Chance, choice, process and assimilation eventually makes a connection and the piece resolves itself.
My medium:Although I never rule out any media I am currently infatuated with wax, it is luxurious and sensuous, it melts, melds and creates a membrane for my work. It is indeed the tissue that holds the mirad of stuff that is my work. It is like skin.
My work: I am involved constantly in making my own materials. I buy raw materials and create encaustic medium and encaustic paint. I use my medium and pigments in my work and workshops. I teach foundation classes in an academic setting and mixed media and encaustic workshops in my studio.
My Thoughts: As I work, juxtapositions that seem to randomly happen give reason to the vast disconnection I feel in everyday life and help my efforts to organize the noisy bombardment of stimuli.
I listen, observe seek our and make connections. I draw, paint,and collect and combine , I read and write. My muse is an unconscious intiution and my decisions are an eternal surprise.
The work itself creates and re-creates who I am and who I become. It contains my life and speaks of my experience. My art is a construction of self.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
2011 Spring Encaustic Schedule
Announcing :January and Febrary Encaustic Workshops and Demos
Encaustic Basics Workshop
When : Jan 22-23 , 12;00-4:00 each day.
Where: Butterfield Too Encaustic Too Studio, 137 King Street, St. Augustine, FL.
What will it cover?
1)Brief discussion of the history, nature and safety of u
sing this ancient method of painting and working with beeswax, resin and pigment
2)Demonstrations and examples of basic Encaustic technique, Heat-Apply-Fuse
3)Experiementation and creation of one or more encaustic pieces by participants
4) Demonstrations and examples of special techniques used in mixed media Encaustics including:
Collage, Transfer, Inlay, Sgrafitto and others.
5) Plenty of time, materials and chances to try all of these techniques
Who will teach it? Encaustic artist, Kate Miller
What should I bring? All materials and equipment will be supplied, participants are encouraged to bring collage materials,(papers, fabrics other absorbant small images, copies of photographs(no resin coated photos) string, thread , dried leaves or flowers, small imbedding objects such as buttons or small pieces of wood.Xeroxed or Laser copied images for transfer, no ink jet.
Cost? $ 140 tuition plus $20 supply fee
How do I register? Email me, Kate Miller at katepmiller@gmail.com; www.katepmiller.com; or call
Butterfield Too Encaustic Studio, (904-829-0078)
Limited space, call to reserve.
Encaustic and Alternative Surfaces:
When: January 29-30 12:00-4:00, 12:00-4:00
Where: Butterfield Too Encaustic Studio, Butterfield Too Gallery, 137 King St. , St. Augustine, FL.
What is covered: Breif Basic Encaustic information on the medium, its history, basic applications, safety and technique, followed by an in-depth exploration of approrpiate grounds for Encaustic surfaces.
Included will be exploration of fabric, paper, found surfaces such as old signs or architechtural pieces, plaster* and ceramic bisqueware.
Who will teach: Encaustic Artist, Kate Miller, joined by special arrangement with well known Ceramic Artist, Jerry Peters. Jerry will provide bisque fired ceramic tiles for student use.
What should I bring? All materials and equipment will be supplied. Students are to bring found absorbent surfaces, cement, wood or other such as an old wooden sign, the back of an old chair or other furniture, a piece of flat driftwood. Imbedding objects, small objects such as buttons, strings, fabrics, pieces of screen or other texture, shells etc. Very small objects may be imbedded into wax, larger objects may be imbedded into plaster*.
Cost: $140 tuition plus $20 supply fee
How do I register? Email me at katepmiller@gmail.com; www.katepmiller.com or call Butterfield Too Encaustic Studio (904-829-0078)
Call soon and leave a $10 deposit to hold your spot, space is limited.
Saturday or Sunday only Half Workshop-
Saturday only , Jan 22 12:00-400 History, Safety, Grounds, Medium and Basic application of the medium
$75 for Saturday only if space allows.
Sunday only Jan 30, for workshop participants who have completed a basic workshop.
Alternative surface exploration including ceramic bisqueware - $75 Sunday only if space allows.
February 5 One Day Encaustic Intensive
When: Feb 5 10:00-4:00 Saturday
Where: Butterfield Too Encaustic Studio, Butterfield Too Art Gallery, 137 King St., St. Augustine, FL.
What will be covered? History, Safety, Medium, Application of Encaustic on absorbant materials, plus demos and breif instruction and exploration into collage,textural techniques, transfers,inlaid lines and sgrafitto.
Who will teach: Kate Miller, St. Augustine and New York Encaustic and Mixed Media Artist
What should I bring? All equiment and materials supplied .Collage materials such as paper, fabric, string, dried flowers, imbedding objects such as buttons or small pieces of net or screen or copies (no resin coated photos) of photographs or images for collage, xeroxes and/or laser copied imagery for transfer.
Cost: $99 plus $20 supply fee
How do I register: Email me at katepmiller@gmail.com or http://www.katepmiller.com/ or call Butterfield Too Encaustic Studio 904-929-0078 ,leave a $10 deposit to hold your spot space is limited.
Encaustic Basics Workshop
When : Feb12, 13 , 12;00-4:00 each day.
Where: Butterfield Too Encaustic Too Studio, 137 King Street, St. Augustine, FL.
What will it cover?
1)Brief discussion of the history, nature and safety of using this ancient method of painting and working with beeswax, resin and pigment
2)Demonstrations and examples of basic Encaustic technique, Heat-Apply-Fuse
3)Experiementation and creation of one or more encaustic pieces by participants
4) Demonstrations and examples of special techniques used in mixed media Encaustics including:
Collage, Transfer, Inlay, Sgrafitto and others.
Who will teach it? Encaustic artist, Kate Miller
What should I bring? All materials and equipment will be supplied, participants are encouraged to bring collage materials,(papers, fabrics other absorbant small images, copies of photographs(no resin coated photos) string, thread , dried leaves or flowers, small imbedding objects such as buttons or small pieces of wood.Xeroxed or Laser copied images for transfer, no ink jet.
Cost? $ 140 tuition plus $20 supply fee
How do I register? Email me, Kate Miller at katepmiller@gmail.com; www.katepmiller.com; or call
Butterfield Too Encaustic Studio, 904-829-0078)
Limited space, call to reserve.
Fiber Arts Network
Encuastic Discussion and Demonstration
Encuastic Discussion and Demonstration
When: February 19
Where: Ponte Vedre Cultural Center
Watch for more information
MOCA Jax Encaustic Workshop(TBA)
Making a Handmade Artist Encaustic Book (TBA)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
CIRCLE snail mail Nov 5!!
Very soon we will be celebrating the work of the last year as CIRCLE, Community for Inspired Realization of Creative Life Experience. Work is coming in daily with the deadline fast approaching. If you still have a mail art piece that youve been meaning to get to or to get mailed come on, get it to the post office!! Cant wait to see all the work up. Join us at the First Friday Art Walk Nov 5th opening reception to be held at the CIRCLE snail mail exhibit at Butterfield Too Art Gallery, 137 King St. , St. Augustine.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Nice layout on Imagination Squared now on exhibit at MOCA, Jacksonville in Arbus, Jacksonville's local magazine on cultural events in the community
http://www.facebook.com/posted.php?id=368300448787&share_id=113648051989885&comments=1#!/pages/Jacksonville-FL/Arbus-Magazine/71252576097?ref=mf
http://www.facebook.com/posted.php?id=368300448787&share_id=113648051989885&comments=1#!/pages/Jacksonville-FL/Arbus-Magazine/71252576097?ref=mf
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Lovers, Mothers, Sisters, Others
I am pleased to announce I will be one of thirty five artists chosen for the"Small Works" show at Boltax Gallery, Shelter Island, NY.
http://www.boltaxgallery.com/
http://www.boltaxgallery.com/
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Imagination Squared,
Imagination Squared, opening on September 1, in Jacksonville
Article in the FLorida Times Union, see blog Thursday, July 22, 2010
http://jacksonville.com/community/riverside/2010-04-01/story/riverside-studio-square-middle-public-art-experiment
Article in the FLorida Times Union, see blog Thursday, July 22, 2010
http://jacksonville.com/community/riverside/2010-04-01/story/riverside-studio-square-middle-public-art-experiment
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Circular space: Circular Space Installation
Circular space: Circular Space Installation
http://www.katepmiller.com/
http://www.facebook.katepmiller.com/
http://www.facebook.circle/ group
If you have questions please contact me at katepmiller@gmail.com
Thursday, July 29, 2010
My thoughts on ,"Out of Orbit"
This piece is a triptych, the small dark square in the left corner, is painted with "black" encaustic created by the mix of Ultramarine and Burnt Sienna. The lower left is Burnt Sienna with mixes of encaustic medium and Umber. The right side is created from colors mixed only from Umber, Cobalt, Ultramarine, Burnt Sienna and Titanium buff encaustic. The "orbit" lines are inscribed and then filled with Oil pigment sticks in Ultramarine, Cobalt and Burnt SiennaThe band that separates the colors is about 1.5" encaustic medium . The inside edges of the three pieces are painted with Cobalt blue that can be glimpsed as one walks by bwithin the slight separation of the pieces. The piece measures a total of 30"x 48" x 2"By default or by intention I am the center of my universe. Like a planet I rotate slowly on an axis, that I imagine to be my stability, my ego, my self. This axis is still steady but it does not stand straight and tall and, like the Eiffel tower, its slant increases with the passing of time.
Around me there is constant circling movement; relationships , ideas, dreams, desires; all that I have ever thought of, longed for, or hold dear is an entity in my galaxy and has its own orbit.
Randomly mixed among these brightly colored and lit orbs are other globes that exist only in the shadows. They are there to remind me of embarrassments and failures, my darkest thoughts and losses, my secrets of haunting shame. There they remain, my fears and dreaded imaginings, nightmares or real events, pain I have felt or inflicted; needs that remain unmet or have left me disappointed.
These globes of the night, also orbit,waiting to inflict their specialties of guilt, anger or anguish and though I avoid making contact they are as essential to my life as my joy, for what is pain but validation of life?
Together the orbiting globes of light and darkness combine to create the chance of a reality that creates my identity, my self. All that I am depends on the possibility of reaching out and finding these global entities still spinning within my gravitational grasp.
All of this is immensely tenuous, a tedious and volatile arrangement of pulsing energyin the time and space I inhabit.Unsteady balance is achieved by continual motion and unrelenting tension that remains in check only by the mutual push and pull of ecstasy and despair.
As I age I am aware that the axis is slipping, its slant is becoming too severe, the angle altered and the hard metal showing signs of rust, not unlike the pigmented spots I find now on my arms. The metalic pole itself is beginning to show little bends and curves where once it was steely and straight, strong and dependable. The change of this slant manifests into an embarrassing self concious angst and I know that in spite vain or noble efforts, reversal is impossible.
The orbits too are stressed, their necessary tension giving in to stretch. Like an overused rubber band, they veer away from my outreached hand, becoming ever more ellipsed from their circular spin.I can only watch as their wobble increases, their elasticity loosening more and more like a worn out pair of gym shorts.
As I watch the increasing elipses, I am aware that I am in jeopardy of losing my center. Like a clay pot on a spinning wheel, it must stay intact or risk collapsing into self destruction or flying off into oblivion.
At times in the night as I lie safely in my bed, panic posseses me and I grasp desperately to the farthest ends of my outstretched fingertips , hoping to connect with a circling orb that will give me the reassurance. Again I will remember myself and be able to sleep with that familliarity.
As I enter the later stages of mid life I bravely continue, standing in the center trying valiantly to keep all the orbits in flight. Like an old woman with multiple hula hoops balancing on hips that have lost their shape, I seek the easy whirling rhythmn that I remember. The essential tension of confidence and snap loses tautness, everything begins to sag and fall.
Eventually all that is me will break away and go soaring into a youthful ,more confident universe still full of mass and sure of its own importance. My axis will quietly, or perhaps with a screaming screech, simply come to a halt.
With the finality of nothing to hold me up, I will simply dissipate and silently fade into gray memory
... a used up star.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
CIRCLE
CIRCLE- Community for the Inspired Realization of Creative Life Experience.
As founder of the online community called CIRCLE I have been very neglegent. I began this creative experiment a year ago with plans to grow into a Non-profit organization.
Our project was a Mail art project. It had been my intention to collect as many mail art pieces as possible and then pursue exhibition venues. Many of you were exhuberant and participated enthusiastically. I thank you for that.
In the meantime life got in my way or maybe I just wasnt good at planning but nothing happened with all of your good work and my good intentions for a long time.
I am happy to announce that I have scheduled an exhibit of CIRCLE Snail Mail Art for November, 2010 at Butterfield Too Art Gallery in St. Augustine. It is a wonderful, highly visited and popular gallery in North Florida. We will have an opening that coincides with the local "First Friday" gallery event and brings out many art lovers and other interested people.
I will send an exhibition agreement to all of you who have already sent in work. The Mail art will all e displayed in a way that both artists' (originator and collaborator) work can be seen.
The cost of showing in the CIRCLE Snail Mail Installation at Butterfield Too is $5 per artist per piece, with the exception of approved "starters " who have originated and returned the minimum 6 pieces to CIRCLE. you are interested in being a "starter" please contact me. Starters orignate and sucessfully enter a minimum of six snail mail art pieces with collaborating artists who have agreed and fullfill that agreement to work with them. With the sucessful entry of six pieces, the starter CIRCLE fees $2.50 per piece is waived. Starters are still responsible for paying the Butterfield Too Art Gallery venue entry fee of $2.50.
I extend my apologies to all of you who participated a year ago, expecting to be shown in NY state this fall. I hope to be able to urge you back into participation and promise to work diligently to make this show a wonderful success. I am also in the process of proposal of this installation to further venues following the Butterfield Too exhibition.
The idea of creating a catalogue of select pieces is also being explored and will be made if funding allows.
If you thought about doing a piece of Snail Mail art but didnt get around to it, you still have plenty of time. Go to our blogspot to check out the procedure or email me at katepmiller@gmail.com
http://www.circularspace.com/
http://butterfieldtoo.com/
Friday, July 23, 2010
Starn Twins Exhibit at the Met
Check this out, the Big Bambu, on the rooftop at the Met in NY. Amazing, this pic is taken from the roof, no pictures were allowed when we took the tour that took us 30 feet above the rooftop of the Metropolitan museum of Art in NYC. I was looking down at Central Park, It was quite amazing, wonderful.
It was an amazing experience and such a beautiful day to be up inside the structure looking down on NYC.
"The Starn Twins on the Met Roof Garden: Big Bambu DetailsDoug and Mike Starn: Big Bambu, will be on view until October 31, 2010, weather permitting. The Metropolitan Museum of Art is open Tuesday through Thursday, and Sunday, from 9:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., and on Friday and Saturday from 9:30 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. The museum is located on Fifth Avenue at 82nd Street. As always, the price of admission to the Met is "suggested." For complete information about the Met, please visit the Met for more information on the Starn Twins installation. "
http://www.glenwoodnyc.com/roller/blog/entry/doug_and_mike_starn_big
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Imagination Squared
To read about this project or become involved yourself, go to http://www.imaginationsquared.com/. Very exciting!!
Oil Pigment Sticks with Charles Forsberg
"Charles frequently returns to drawing, forcefully striking marks into the heavily manipulated buttery paint, then tearing it apart, alternating in a push-pull sequence of drawing and smearing, scraping back, revealing previous drawing marks, and piling what he has scraped up into thick sculptural mounds. It is an amazing and unceasing gestural exercise over many hours, as Forsberg turns the formless ooze he started with into a powerful structure of shapes and sharply accented marks.
Anyone attending Forsberg’s Pigment Stick workshop on August 10-12 will experience the thrill of sharing his method of working paint with utter abandon and confident control. " http://www.rfpaints.com/
I am pleased to be awarded a scholarship grant to attend the Charles Forsberg Pigment Stick workshop on August 10-12 at R & F Handmade Paints in Kingston, N.Y. I love the richness and abandon of this work, cant wait to get my hands into it!
http://www.charlesforsberrg.com/
Anyone attending Forsberg’s Pigment Stick workshop on August 10-12 will experience the thrill of sharing his method of working paint with utter abandon and confident control. " http://www.rfpaints.com/
I am pleased to be awarded a scholarship grant to attend the Charles Forsberg Pigment Stick workshop on August 10-12 at R & F Handmade Paints in Kingston, N.Y. I love the richness and abandon of this work, cant wait to get my hands into it!
http://www.charlesforsberrg.com/
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