December 20, 2014
The outdoor interactive drawing is going really well. I visit at various times of the day to observe the changes. The cold affects my ability to do work for any length of time. I've finally made the first videos to document the piece at night. It's quite beautiful in a haunting way. The hues of blue are incredible. The shadows and movement in sync are fascinating to me. I am the observer.
I've also caught close ups of several elements on their own.
Below is the link to the night video in full.
"Wild Is The Air", 2014
Detail of Metal element.
"Wild is the Air", detail metal element
"Unseen Lines" text detail (c) Dianne Bowen
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Monday, December 8, 2014
BEING THERE
December 7, 2014 East Village Interactive Drawing Installation Mural (that's a mouthful)
Winter, dusk brings evolution to my interactive drawing. Gusts billow metal, vine, light, and shadow, sounds repeat a new composition in progress.
A storm the night before shook my windows in the frames, billowing curtains from cracks in the wall and windows improperly installed. Falling asleep with hope it would continue the next day so I could catch it causing the mural piece to move with frantic play. The light is perfect in the later afternoon. The light is white turning warm yellow aging like parchment. The shadows deepen. The vines catch larger fallen limbs sway gently rocking them back and forth as a mother rocks her child. The light creates 2 dimensions of shadows; one of the trees and nature closest to the work, the other the urban wrought iron fence and gate in the foreground surrounding the park. This adds an eery play in light and shadow cast over the work moving just slightly off... I wonder as I watch and film, what if?
It was very active today and my friend George who sit's in the park carving things from fallen branches quietly whittles on the bench beside me. George is an oldschool East Village character with many stories, a crazy life and a sense of humor to match. We chat as we work, and sometimes simply just smile with a knowing glance a moment of being alone is cool. No words needed. Today I noticed a group of younger college age people exiting shuffling and snapping pics as they left the park waving to George. He said "I was just explaining that your work makes sounds, music, it's a musical instrument at least to me of course. You know I was here a few days ago and I heard it. It was cool I really like to watch it." I asked what did it sound like, to me a drum symbol perhaps?" He smiled and said, "Ok, maybe to you, but I can't say exactly and laughed. I know it was like that but not that and I was looking for you to tell you it was making lots of noise."
I've filmed a good assortment of short clips to use for a longer video documenting the piece. It's taken on a life of it's own, it's progress or evolution while predictable to some extent is yielding so much more than I expected.
"Wild is the Air" indeed, being there....
Winter, dusk brings evolution to my interactive drawing. Gusts billow metal, vine, light, and shadow, sounds repeat a new composition in progress.
A storm the night before shook my windows in the frames, billowing curtains from cracks in the wall and windows improperly installed. Falling asleep with hope it would continue the next day so I could catch it causing the mural piece to move with frantic play. The light is perfect in the later afternoon. The light is white turning warm yellow aging like parchment. The shadows deepen. The vines catch larger fallen limbs sway gently rocking them back and forth as a mother rocks her child. The light creates 2 dimensions of shadows; one of the trees and nature closest to the work, the other the urban wrought iron fence and gate in the foreground surrounding the park. This adds an eery play in light and shadow cast over the work moving just slightly off... I wonder as I watch and film, what if?
It was very active today and my friend George who sit's in the park carving things from fallen branches quietly whittles on the bench beside me. George is an oldschool East Village character with many stories, a crazy life and a sense of humor to match. We chat as we work, and sometimes simply just smile with a knowing glance a moment of being alone is cool. No words needed. Today I noticed a group of younger college age people exiting shuffling and snapping pics as they left the park waving to George. He said "I was just explaining that your work makes sounds, music, it's a musical instrument at least to me of course. You know I was here a few days ago and I heard it. It was cool I really like to watch it." I asked what did it sound like, to me a drum symbol perhaps?" He smiled and said, "Ok, maybe to you, but I can't say exactly and laughed. I know it was like that but not that and I was looking for you to tell you it was making lots of noise."
I've filmed a good assortment of short clips to use for a longer video documenting the piece. It's taken on a life of it's own, it's progress or evolution while predictable to some extent is yielding so much more than I expected.
"Wild is the Air" indeed, being there....
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| "Wild Is The Air", 2014 daily diary, Filming in the late afternoon, (c)Dianne Bowen |
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Tuesday, November 25, 2014
I've gone for a walk
November 25, 2014
In mulling through notes and photographs of the outdoor piece before heading over to do a little work I thought of calligraphy. Gestural language marks, extinct languages, pictographs, the way the light creates these forms naturally, moving across the surface. Natural Graffiti an inaudible language of transient mark making. Taking a photograph in October when the light is very dramatic, I caught an example of this thought aiming the camera up through the work. It takes on a vertical composition like Japanese or Chinese. I think of reaching towards the unknown for answers for conversation with the universe all around me.
Knock-knock.....
It's me again
In mulling through notes and photographs of the outdoor piece before heading over to do a little work I thought of calligraphy. Gestural language marks, extinct languages, pictographs, the way the light creates these forms naturally, moving across the surface. Natural Graffiti an inaudible language of transient mark making. Taking a photograph in October when the light is very dramatic, I caught an example of this thought aiming the camera up through the work. It takes on a vertical composition like Japanese or Chinese. I think of reaching towards the unknown for answers for conversation with the universe all around me.
Knock-knock.....
It's me again
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| "wild is the air", 2014 (c) Dianne Bowen, detail current work in progress, East Village, NY |
Monday, November 24, 2014
November 22, 2014 I had several of my cellular pieces included a show "The Right Amount of Wrong", curated by Lovina Purple at the ISE Cultural Foundation, 555 Broadway, near Prince Street in Soho, New York. The show closes on December 19th so if you're in New York City I hope you can drop by. The most repeated quote at the opening I heard, "This is a really strong show, best I've seen in awhile including Chelsea". Not to be biased but I'd agree. Lovina did an fantastic job, all the work was really strong and as we spoke during the artists talk it became more clear the many ways the artists were conversing. From materials, concepts, color, technique the room was a lively conversation indeed.
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| "Cellular Secrets Popping Sound", 2012 (c) Dianne Bowen with associated note poem oils, pigments, china marker, light fast wax pencil pigment sticks on canvas |
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| "Deep Sound II", 2012 (c) Dianne Bowen, pigments, oil, oil stick, china marker on canvas |
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| "Red Is A Hunger", 2008, (c) Dianne Bowen, pigments, copper pigment, recycled tire treads, guitar wire, coriander seed, light fast pencils, cut outs archival pen on paper,associated poem; Red is a hunger, licks it's lips, curls a smile |
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Nomad
SOLD
Studio photograph, Framed and ready for delivery. Didn't have that much time to sit with this and contemplate but long enough I get let it go.
Last week I wandered around Chelsea to catch a few shows I had missed the openings. I thought I'd beat the heat while I had the chance so an early walk about was perfect and inspiring. Recently I'd taken to a little early morning walk in Tompkins Square Park where I can sit quietly with nature and just simply walk, write or think alone. A gift in a city of non stop chaos on many days. On the walk back to my studio an empty store window caught my eye. Panels of glass seemed kicked in cracking the glass with white spray paint graff text over it. This combination was incredibly intriguing to me so I whipped out my cell and snapped a few shots close up and changing sections of the lines from the text in an abstract composition. These are perfect to include in my on going series "foundlings" which I'd been working on for several years. They are impromptu, random, encounters with what I term "found drawings". Using photography to capture these combines photography and drawing in both medium and concept I think arguably I'm sure.
Studio photograph, Framed and ready for delivery. Didn't have that much time to sit with this and contemplate but long enough I get let it go.
Last week I wandered around Chelsea to catch a few shows I had missed the openings. I thought I'd beat the heat while I had the chance so an early walk about was perfect and inspiring. Recently I'd taken to a little early morning walk in Tompkins Square Park where I can sit quietly with nature and just simply walk, write or think alone. A gift in a city of non stop chaos on many days. On the walk back to my studio an empty store window caught my eye. Panels of glass seemed kicked in cracking the glass with white spray paint graff text over it. This combination was incredibly intriguing to me so I whipped out my cell and snapped a few shots close up and changing sections of the lines from the text in an abstract composition. These are perfect to include in my on going series "foundlings" which I'd been working on for several years. They are impromptu, random, encounters with what I term "found drawings". Using photography to capture these combines photography and drawing in both medium and concept I think arguably I'm sure.
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| "Foundling" Ave A, East Village NY, July, 2014 |
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
East Village Studio, July 7, 2014
July 15, 2014
Recent work inspired by a line in a poem by poet Alyssa Yankwitt, "This Is How We Spill Our Grief". The two smaller recent works come from this line. Her words stuck in my head wandering around for weeks after I read her poem. It took a little time to know where I would begin or what surface?
The two piece's were created in July, 2014, one on artist board and the other on mylar. Hope you enjoy them ! Here are some studio shots.
SOLD
The winter in New York City was long, dark and fraught with many storms. Cold and rainy as winds whipped through windows, and all manor of cracks and crevasses it could manage. I've been very ill since last summer which has led me to slow down my pace and focus on my health and recovery. Thankfully I'm a tough broad as my father would say and will recover.
In the east village studio which I fondly refer to as "the think tank", my mind was dulled by the meds. It was hard to think clearly and put things together. A line, a very simple line from one side of the surface to another was a feat. It became impossible to work as my head simply couldn't wrap itself around exploring or defining any ideas possibilities. So I waited ... and waited...
and waited...
every day growing frustrated
waiting for my body and mind to heal to recover, to recognize the image in the mirror.
to recognize the person who spoke from this body that was mine I no longer recognize. I search for
pictures to remember what I looked like, where my thoughts were going.
searching for me, searching for something recognizable.
This was the hardest part, the body failed me, but my mind failed me too. The horror indeed.
Now almost a year later, I see myself again. There you are, I thought staring in the mirror. It's been so long I've missed you !
The new work is coming very fast as my mind returns to it's frantic wonderful active self again. Puzzles, fireworks, the joy ! I've several series I'm working on at the moment in a variety of mediums. From site specific installations to drawings, mixed media and video incorporating my note and code poems simultaneously. Collecting words, sounds, colors, motion, textures, all delicately woven quietly as I slept. A line in a poem by my dear friend poet Alyssa Yankwitt has inspired several works on mylar and wood panel artists board. "This is how we spill our grief". It's subtlety, the act of "spilling" something for me is a languid motion, which could be quick or slow. It's how we perceive the passing of time, how we understand time in relation to all things in the bigger picture of life.
Some images will be posted shortly as I get back in the swing of things and my computer gets up and running again. Enjoy your day where ever you wander !
Recent work inspired by a line in a poem by poet Alyssa Yankwitt, "This Is How We Spill Our Grief". The two smaller recent works come from this line. Her words stuck in my head wandering around for weeks after I read her poem. It took a little time to know where I would begin or what surface?
The two piece's were created in July, 2014, one on artist board and the other on mylar. Hope you enjoy them ! Here are some studio shots.
 |
| This Is How We Spill Our Grief, 2014, July, oil, pigments, gouache, pencil on mylar roughly 21" x 30" |
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| This Is How We Spill Our Grief, I, 2014, July, oil, pigments, guoache, china marker, on raw wood artist board, 8" x *" |
The winter in New York City was long, dark and fraught with many storms. Cold and rainy as winds whipped through windows, and all manor of cracks and crevasses it could manage. I've been very ill since last summer which has led me to slow down my pace and focus on my health and recovery. Thankfully I'm a tough broad as my father would say and will recover.
In the east village studio which I fondly refer to as "the think tank", my mind was dulled by the meds. It was hard to think clearly and put things together. A line, a very simple line from one side of the surface to another was a feat. It became impossible to work as my head simply couldn't wrap itself around exploring or defining any ideas possibilities. So I waited ... and waited...
and waited...
every day growing frustrated
waiting for my body and mind to heal to recover, to recognize the image in the mirror.
to recognize the person who spoke from this body that was mine I no longer recognize. I search for
pictures to remember what I looked like, where my thoughts were going.
searching for me, searching for something recognizable.
This was the hardest part, the body failed me, but my mind failed me too. The horror indeed.
Now almost a year later, I see myself again. There you are, I thought staring in the mirror. It's been so long I've missed you !
The new work is coming very fast as my mind returns to it's frantic wonderful active self again. Puzzles, fireworks, the joy ! I've several series I'm working on at the moment in a variety of mediums. From site specific installations to drawings, mixed media and video incorporating my note and code poems simultaneously. Collecting words, sounds, colors, motion, textures, all delicately woven quietly as I slept. A line in a poem by my dear friend poet Alyssa Yankwitt has inspired several works on mylar and wood panel artists board. "This is how we spill our grief". It's subtlety, the act of "spilling" something for me is a languid motion, which could be quick or slow. It's how we perceive the passing of time, how we understand time in relation to all things in the bigger picture of life.
Some images will be posted shortly as I get back in the swing of things and my computer gets up and running again. Enjoy your day where ever you wander !
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