I love it! I love your artist statement and I love your attitude and your paintings.
But to tell you the truth I'm alarmed by the twombly references in art and in the world in general. It colors my days because of the clouds and the childrens' constant cries in my building. I think bricks refer to closing in, finishing off and jailhouses. This painting has blood in it, darkness, dread and unfriendliness. These are familiar to me. There is a certain kind of poignance that is referenced by the color brick red and blue. Black too. I am harmed in the day and harmed at night by pictures of explosions, see this references the mind and the body as well, as well as human experience.
Creative approach. Nice try. Keep trying. These are questions to be considered with every day of an artist's life and hopefully they already know about this. WHATEVER YOUR DAY IS LIKE, I PRAY THAT HOPE IS YOUR CONSTANT GUIDE. Hope is what I feel when I see good paintings.
In thinking more about this artist I love this artist and his work. You should read his statement it is whole-hearted. I understand him intuitively and I feel the way he does when he paints. Just call me admirer. This is a show for all to see and re-see.
damm dude you need to find this guy and take him out for dinner or something so he can know his secret admirer. I don't know his work.... where would I find his must read "statement" This painting seems like its got some truth to it and I respect that. Don't by any means think its something to cream your nickers over.
hey Cy Guston, well i will go read his artist statement since you are so ga ga about it. I hope all of his paintings aren't bricks but i have a feeling they will be and thats why i haven't creamed myself yet.
That something is so simultaneously ugly and exotic could be among the most numerous types of art is inspiring. Such self confidence in spite of your looks is reminding me of something. Keep up with the buildings.
No link needed just include it just like you included that your ready to spar. Is this kid blatently nodding to the Twombster ? and your last statement makes no sense try again. I understand though when people are just falling in love they don't make sense sometimes.
martin wong, sarah mceneaney, jason fox, ben shahn, ezra jack keats... it is hard to find fault with the bricklayers.
hey, merlin james has a survey show at the studio school. and the high times, hard times show opens in nyc soon. i think someone was asking for recommendations earlier.
For what its worth, I was too busy/bored by the last few paintings to comment, but this one is pretty. Pretty enough for me to come down and say somethin.
Don't know mch about this artist either, but I guess I am a sucker for how well he's handling the twombly influence. I mean, it is dangerously similar, and there are like three other students in my year attempting this kind of stuff, but this one seems to succeed--
And it might have something to do with the space established by those red "bricks" in the forground. De-flattens it.
i agree with above, handling influence well.. i like that theres more happening with the representational. his other few paintings without this element didn't do anything for me. just more of the marks = something. Now they represent something more specific.
I am so active. Listen. Poppy stop agreeing with handling the influence, do you or do you not like it. I like it. I am unafraid to say it, I am representing my own opinion which is so specific. WHAT. Why don't you be like me? you are concerned about the world's opinion of you and that is unacceptable for your soul and your future. Please give art a chance, let it love yourself. Let it bring you HOPE!!!!! YES.
Hope is for suckers. I like demolition, as a rule.
THis painting looks like art. that means it si not in the top 5% of the avant guard.
Does anyone get anything more out of cy twombly than the idea that you could wqrite anything you want and have it mean everything to everybody and yet nothing to nobody? I hate that about twombly, all that freedom - like he could take a vacation forever and not care that his vacation is allowing the terrorists to win, which it is, and you all are complicit.
The interests of a black man in a cellar Mark tardy judgment on the world’s closed door. Gnats toss in the shadow of a bottle, And a roach spans a crevice in the floor.
Aesop, driven to pondering, found Heaven with the tortoise and the hare, Fox brush and sow ear top his grave And mingling incantations on the air.
The black man, forlorn in the cellar, Wanders in some mid-kingdom, dark, that lies, Between his tambourine, stuck on the wall, And, in Africa, a carcass quick with flies.
i am not afraid to say that i agree with zip about his twombly comment. and this painters earlier work was too much like that. at least he's thrown something else in the mix. He gets a belly rub for that, but that's it. If you stick around and look at some more paintings you will realize you become able to stomach certain elements of certain works. So once again, Kudos for making a painting better than an elephant.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said-- "Ha! ha! ha! --he! he! he!
I hear you go through a full spectrum of emotions on experiencing something as traumatic. But what if its just funny? I mean thats a distancing technique. Hahahahah. Yeah, its a fucking laugh a minute around here. I felt happy for about five minute yesterday. its was rad. The sun was shining, it had warmed up a bit and I was doing something - stripping wire for recycling. You know, burn off the wire and lets go party.
why is everyone so against elephants--and finger painting for that matter. who do you think you are?
We do not believe that painting is a language. Nor do we try to "say" things, but we do try to fix upon canvas the joy of vision. To express, to show...not to write hieroglyphics. We have no concern with stories, with lapse of time, nor with the probability of improbability or hereafter. In other words, we are not trying to illustrate a thought or write a catalogue, but to produce a joy through the use of the eyes. We have much to express, but nothing to say.
I don't know Johnny Rotten... but I'm sure, I'm sure he puts as much blood and sweat into what he does as Sigmund Freud did. You see, what, what sounds to you like a big load of trashy old noise... is in fact... the brilliant music of a genius... myself. And that music is so powerful, that it's quite beyond my control. And, ah... when I'm in the grips of it, I don't feel pleasure and I don't feel pain, either physically or emotionally. Do you understand what I'm talking about? Have you ever, have you ever felt like that? When you just, when you just, you couldn't feel anything, and you didn't want to either. You know, like that? Do you understand what I'm saying, sir?
hey closeup, you're the person with the music lyric blog right? thats pretty cool you feel that way about music, i feel pretty strong about it too. Are you a musician? You should take it up. Having spent a good chunk of time doing both myself, i don't feel they are as seperate as I am interpreting that you make them out to be. Personally I'm not against elephants. If we gave them more credit, which by the way we are starting to, they could give some of us a run for the money. Studies are trying to prove elephants have a similar level of self awareness as monkeys do. Preliminary studies. Now we've got 2 mammals to compete with, Hey,...Give a dolphin some digits would ya!
Actually three mammals...don't forget cats...there are probably more being trained as we speak!
Twombly is an aesthete; flirts with 19th century or earlier Romantic sensibility. I like them, some times more than other times. All art asks to be defined by their own contexts or criterias it seems...you either like 'em or you don't.
I don't mind this piece by Piedilato but then maybe i justkike the Twombly in it...I like Tuttle and Partenheimer too...I'm susceptible...other stuff I have seen on the net by Piedilato doesn't interest me as much but maybe it would if I saw it 'in the flesh'.
you are probably seeing something I dont see. what i was saying was--feel something or feel nothing--but thats where you're human.
so we face that crepescular dawn whether the lovecraft or the virillo version. we are invaded by the posthuman. do we get a gun or body armour or irony or do we reach for it and breathe it in.
ever look into an elephants eye? i have and i could see it was forgiving me. crazy huh? but i wish i could forgive. i cant and thats my destiny.
crack house staring at the ceiling so long it looks like its caving in the diagonal crack is a friend but also the end mend and tend mend and tend decimation isolation instigation irrigation nation corn belt constellations save your war rations krugerands and ampersands ushering in a new fall fashioning fire hardened Poetry to poke the porky pig. You can't go home again but you can cross the same river twice if you drown in it.
He becomes a sort of hollow, posing dummy, the conventionalized figure of a sahib. For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the "natives," and so in every crisis he has got to do what the "natives" expect of him. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it. I had got to shoot the elephant. I had committed myself to doing it when I sent for the rifle. A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things. To come all that way, rifle in hand, with two thousand people marching at my heels, and then to trail feebly away, having done nothing – no, that was impossible. The crowd would laugh at me. And my whole life, every white man's life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at.
mancipate yourselves from mental slavery; None but ourselves can free our minds. Have no fear for atomic energy, 'Cause none of them can stop the time. How long shall they kill our prophets, While we stand aside and look? Ooh! Some say it's just a part of it: We've got to fulfil de book.
Nellie the elephant pack her trunk and said goodbye to the circus of she road with a trumety trump trump trump trump Nellie the elephant packed her trunk and trumbled of to the jungle of she road with a thrumety trump trump trump trump The head of the heard was calling far far away they meet one night in silver light on the road to Mandaley
Plant a flag on the rocks if you're lost Blow your pants up and float back to shore If you're happy and you know it clap your hands If you're leaving the room close the door
If youre leaving close the door. Im not expecting people anymore. Hear me grieving, Im lying on the floor. Whether Im drunk or dead I really aint too sure. Im a blind man, Im a blind man and my world is pale. When a blind man cries, lord, you know there aint no sadder tale.
Had a friend once in a room, Had a good time but it ended much too soon. In a cold month in that room We found a reason for the things we had to do.
Im a blind man, Im a blind man, now my room is cold. When a blind man cries, lord, you know he feels it from his soul.
"The printmakers at Universal spent months finding ink to match the electric pink, yellow and blue of the digital images."
is that a nice way of saying Caroll Duhmam knows fuckall about CMYK? Or did the printmakers at Universal really get off on licking up the challenge? Because I'm no print maker but it seems to me spending MONTHS on a project is pretty fucking AWESOME!!!!
By which I mean, this would make a good print, edition of 15 or a hundred. Maybe a color xerograph? Im into that sort of thing. Im thinking of working with the craftsmen at kinko's.
that stuff seems pretty conservative show your mom kinda stuff. THats cool and all but when were finished looking at the dust settling through the sunshine youll be wondering why your beer is warm.
Andrew Piedilato @
ReplyDeleteBlack and White Gallery
The Sheltering Sky group show
636 West 28th Street, Ground Floor
NYC
brick by brick
ReplyDeleteI love it! I love your artist statement and I love your attitude and your paintings.
ReplyDeleteBut to tell you the truth I'm alarmed by the twombly references in art and in the world in general. It colors my days because of the clouds and the childrens' constant cries in my building. I think bricks refer to closing in, finishing off and jailhouses. This painting has blood in it, darkness, dread and unfriendliness. These are familiar to me. There is a certain kind of poignance that is referenced by the color brick red and blue. Black too. I am harmed in the day and harmed at night by pictures of explosions, see this references the mind and the body as well, as well as human experience.
Creative approach. Nice try. Keep trying. These are questions to be considered with every day of an artist's life and hopefully they already know about this. WHATEVER YOUR DAY IS LIKE, I PRAY THAT HOPE IS YOUR CONSTANT GUIDE. Hope is what I feel when I see good paintings.
In thinking more about this artist I love this artist and his work. You should read his statement it is whole-hearted. I understand him intuitively and I feel the way he does when he paints. Just call me admirer. This is a show for all to see and re-see.
ReplyDeleteWhy? I want to be like Zip and post a lot.
ReplyDeleteStill here! Waiting to spar with you.
ReplyDeletedamm dude you need to find this guy and take him out for dinner or something so he can know his secret admirer.
ReplyDeleteI don't know his work.... where would I find his must read "statement"
This painting seems like its got some truth to it and I respect that. Don't by any means think its something to cream your nickers over.
Look it up online. I am not good with links.
ReplyDeleteIt is truthy, this painting.
ReplyDeletehey Cy Guston,
ReplyDeletewell i will go read his artist statement since you are so ga ga about it. I hope all of his paintings aren't bricks but i have a feeling they will be and thats why i haven't creamed myself yet.
Please don't cream yourself, it is too messy.
ReplyDeleteThat something is so simultaneously ugly and exotic could be among the most numerous types of art is inspiring. Such self confidence in spite of your looks is reminding me of something. Keep up with the buildings.
ReplyDeleteNo link needed just include it just like you included that your ready to spar.
ReplyDeleteIs this kid blatently nodding to the Twombster ? and your last statement makes no sense try again. I understand though when people are just falling in love they don't make sense sometimes.
i can't find much else except the one in black and white gallery. tim, link us up. this seems different approach than the few other paintings I found.
ReplyDeletetim, you should meet doug and chucky. maybe they will come back...
ReplyDeletetra
ReplyDeletela la-say,this is okay,fragile brickers
ReplyDeletetho martin ramirez sais it for real"
ReplyDeletemartin wong, sarah mceneaney, jason fox, ben shahn, ezra jack keats... it is hard to find fault with the bricklayers.
ReplyDeletehey, merlin james has a survey show at the studio school. and the high times, hard times show opens in nyc soon. i think someone was asking for recommendations earlier.
pink floyd.
ReplyDeletelook im sorry im late jim
ReplyDeletenot gonna read any statements, sorry. but Tim did say one thing i totally agree with... great paintings have 'hope' as an element.
ReplyDeletenow tim, calm down. you will hate this work in 6 months. love is like that.
there is nothing wrong with their bricks as design,they got a good handle on bricks... problem is with actual foundation.
ReplyDeleteFor what its worth, I was too busy/bored by the last few paintings to comment, but this one is pretty. Pretty enough for me to come down and say somethin.
ReplyDeleteDon't know mch about this artist either, but I guess I am a sucker for how well he's handling the twombly influence. I mean, it is dangerously similar, and there are like three other students in my year attempting this kind of stuff, but this one seems to succeed--
And it might have something to do with the space established by those red "bricks" in the forground. De-flattens it.
i agree with above, handling influence well.. i like that theres more happening with the representational. his other few paintings without this element didn't do anything for me. just more of the marks = something. Now they represent something more specific.
ReplyDeleteI am so active. Listen. Poppy stop agreeing with handling the influence, do you or do you not like it. I like it. I am unafraid to say it, I am representing my own opinion which is so specific. WHAT. Why don't you be like me? you are concerned about the world's opinion of you and that is unacceptable for your soul and your future. Please give art a chance, let it love yourself. Let it bring you HOPE!!!!! YES.
ReplyDeleteHope is for suckers.
ReplyDeleteI like demolition, as a rule.
THis painting looks like art. that means it si not in the top 5% of the avant guard.
Does anyone get anything more out of cy twombly than the idea that you could wqrite anything you want and have it mean everything to everybody and yet nothing to nobody? I hate that about twombly, all that freedom - like he could take a vacation forever and not care that his vacation is allowing the terrorists to win, which it is, and you all are complicit.
Shame on you.
oh and bring it. WHatever that is.
ReplyDeleteThe interests of a black man in a cellar
ReplyDeleteMark tardy judgment on the world’s closed door.
Gnats toss in the shadow of a bottle,
And a roach spans a crevice in the floor.
Aesop, driven to pondering, found
Heaven with the tortoise and the hare,
Fox brush and sow ear top his grave
And mingling incantations on the air.
The black man, forlorn in the cellar,
Wanders in some mid-kingdom, dark, that lies,
Between his tambourine, stuck on the wall,
And, in Africa, a carcass quick with flies.
i am not afraid to say that i agree with zip about his twombly comment. and this painters earlier work was too much like that. at least he's thrown something else in the mix. He gets a belly rub for that, but that's it. If you stick around and look at some more paintings you will realize you become able to stomach certain elements of certain works. So once again, Kudos for making a painting better than an elephant.
ReplyDeleteFunny, zip, you seem to be the type to write things that could mean anything or nothing. Cryptic.
ReplyDeleteWe dont need no education.
ReplyDeleteIt was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said--
"Ha! ha! ha! --he! he! he!
I hear you go through a full spectrum of emotions on experiencing something as traumatic. But what if its just funny? I mean thats a distancing technique. Hahahahah. Yeah, its a fucking laugh a minute around here. I felt happy for about five minute yesterday. its was rad. The sun was shining, it had warmed up a bit and I was doing something - stripping wire for recycling. You know, burn off the wire and lets go party.
ReplyDeletewhy is everyone so against elephants--and finger painting for that matter. who do you think you are?
ReplyDeleteWe do not believe that painting is a language. Nor do we try to "say" things, but we do try to fix upon canvas the joy of vision. To express, to show...not to write hieroglyphics. We have no concern with stories, with lapse of time, nor with the probability of improbability or hereafter. In other words, we are not trying to illustrate a thought or write a catalogue, but to produce a joy through the use of the eyes. We have much to express, but nothing to say.
I don't know Johnny Rotten... but I'm sure, I'm sure he puts as much blood and sweat into what he does as Sigmund Freud did. You see, what, what sounds to you like a big load of trashy old noise... is in fact... the brilliant music of a genius... myself. And that music is so powerful, that it's quite beyond my control. And, ah... when I'm in the grips of it, I don't feel pleasure and I don't feel pain, either physically or emotionally. Do you understand what I'm talking about? Have you ever, have you ever felt like that? When you just, when you just, you couldn't feel anything, and you didn't want to either. You know, like that? Do you understand what I'm saying, sir?
hey closeup,
ReplyDeleteyou're the person with the music lyric blog right? thats pretty cool you feel that way about music, i feel pretty strong about it too. Are you a musician? You should take it up. Having spent a good chunk of time doing both myself, i don't feel they are as seperate as I am interpreting that you make them out to be.
Personally I'm not against elephants. If we gave them more credit, which by the way we are starting to, they could give some of us a run for the money. Studies are trying to prove elephants have a similar level of self awareness as monkeys do. Preliminary studies. Now we've got 2 mammals to compete with, Hey,...Give a dolphin some digits would ya!
I make them out to be separate? I dont.
ReplyDeleteActually three mammals...don't forget cats...there are probably more being trained as we speak!
ReplyDeleteTwombly is an aesthete; flirts with 19th century or earlier Romantic sensibility. I like them, some times more than other times. All art asks to be defined by their own contexts or criterias it seems...you either like 'em or you don't.
I don't mind this piece by Piedilato but then maybe i justkike the Twombly in it...I like Tuttle and Partenheimer too...I'm susceptible...other stuff I have seen on the net by Piedilato doesn't interest me as much but maybe it would if I saw it 'in the flesh'.
i must have read something into something,..
ReplyDeleteabout cats,.. I think they would think we are crazy to care about any of it.
you are probably seeing something I dont see. what i was saying was--feel something or feel nothing--but thats where you're human.
ReplyDeleteso we face that crepescular dawn whether the lovecraft or the virillo version. we are invaded by the posthuman. do we get a gun or body armour or irony or do we reach for it and breathe it in.
ever look into an elephants eye? i have and i could see it was forgiving me. crazy huh? but i wish i could forgive. i cant and thats my destiny.
stupid is in charge.
Did I miss something? What is elephant a euphamism for?
ReplyDeletecrack house staring at the ceiling so long it looks like its caving in the diagonal crack is a friend but also the end mend and tend mend and tend decimation isolation instigation irrigation nation corn belt constellations save your war rations krugerands and ampersands ushering in a new fall fashioning fire hardened Poetry to poke the porky pig. You can't go home again
ReplyDeletebut you can cross the same river twice if you drown in it.
He becomes a sort of hollow, posing dummy, the conventionalized figure of a sahib. For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the "natives," and so in every crisis he has got to do what the "natives" expect of him. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it. I had got to shoot the elephant. I had committed myself to doing it when I sent for the rifle. A sahib has got to act like a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things. To come all that way, rifle in hand, with two thousand people marching at my heels, and then to trail feebly away, having done nothing – no, that was impossible. The crowd would laugh at me. And my whole life, every white man's life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at.
mancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
ReplyDeleteNone but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look? Ooh!
Some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfil de book.
Nellie the elephant pack her trunk and
ReplyDeletesaid goodbye to the circus
of she road with a trumety trump
trump trump trump
Nellie the elephant packed her trunk
and trumbled of to the jungle
of she road with a thrumety trump
trump trump trump
The head of the heard was calling far far away
they meet one night in silver light
on the road to Mandaley
Hell is for buildings
ReplyDeletePlant a flag on the rocks if you're lost
Blow your pants up and float back to shore
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands
If you're leaving the room close the door
If youre leaving close the door.
Im not expecting people anymore.
Hear me grieving, Im lying on the floor.
Whether Im drunk or dead I really aint too sure.
Im a blind man, Im a blind man and my world is pale.
When a blind man cries, lord, you know there aint no sadder tale.
Had a friend once in a room,
Had a good time but it ended much too soon.
In a cold month in that room
We found a reason for the things we had to do.
Im a blind man, Im a blind man, now my room is cold.
When a blind man cries, lord, you know he feels it from his soul.
You know, all deep and shit.
Nobody's fault but mine, nobody's fault but mine.
ReplyDeleteIf I don't read it my soul be lost.
I have a Bible in my home, I have a Bible in my home.
If I don't read it my soul be lost.
Mmm, Father he taught me how to read, Father he taught me how to read.
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine.
Ah, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine.
If I don't read it my soul be lost.
Ah, I have a Bible of my own, I have a Bible of my own.
If I don't read it my soul be lost.
Oh, Mother she taught me how to read, Mother she taught me how to read.
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine.
Ah, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine.
If I don't read it my soul be lost.
And Sister she taught me how to read, Sister she taught me how to read.
If I don't read it my soul be lost, nobody's fault but mine.
Ah, mmmm, Lord, Lord, nobody's fault but mine.
If I don't read it my soul'd be lost, mmmm.
"The printmakers at Universal spent months finding ink to match the electric pink, yellow and blue of the digital images."
ReplyDeleteis that a nice way of saying Caroll Duhmam knows fuckall about CMYK? Or did the printmakers at Universal really get off on licking up the challenge? Because I'm no print maker but it seems to me spending MONTHS on a project is pretty fucking AWESOME!!!!
By which I mean, this would make a good print, edition of 15 or a hundred. Maybe a color xerograph? Im into that sort of thing. Im thinking of working with the craftsmen at kinko's.
ReplyDeleteNote to self: Dont forget to make artists proofs and walk barefoot in the store.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteHey Painter- How about posting Merlin James from the NY Studio School show? Interesting show.
ReplyDeletepp, is this show online? Merlin was posted here in the summer i think, Is he still painting beaches?
ReplyDeletemerlin
ReplyDeletethat stuff seems pretty conservative show your mom kinda stuff. THats cool and all but when were finished looking at the dust settling through the sunshine youll be wondering why your beer is warm.
ReplyDeletewho are you carrying all those bricks for anyway?
ReplyDeleteThink about it.