TIM LOWLY I make representational art (paintings and drawings) that is intended—to the extent that art can do such a thing—to give agency to the subject as well as to encourage the viewer to take a deep dive into a meaningful life The raking mid-winter light this morning brings to mind this painting from the #re_rainbowgirl project.The title of the painting references Andrei Tarkovsky’s film by that title, specifically the daughter of the main character (the “Stalker”) a man who is a kind of guide who leads people into a place called “the Zone” where, supposedly, their greatest desire will be realized. The Stalker’s daughter is disabled, and seems to be a minor character in the film.That apparent marginality of her role (and implicitly her place in the world) is complicated by the final scene of the film. In that scene, from across a tabletop we see her sitting alone at a table, reciting a poem.Upon finishing the poem, she turns her head towards the camera and unexpectedly directs the cups on the table to slide towards us across the table. When the third cup reaches the edge of the table, it falls to the floor. The girl puts her head on the table as a train passing in close proximity (joined by strains of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”) shakes the room.Temma is (for those of us who live with her) a mysterious being who in her being constantly puts to question what life is really about. “At 25 (Temma side)”, mixed media on panel, 30” x 25” x 2”. Minneapolis Institute of Art. Gift of Eric Brecher, Koplin Del Rio and the 30 artists who participated in the production of the work.This project was a rare one for me in that—while the concept, photograph and some of the preliminary work were done by myself—almost all of the painting was done by the collaborators listed below. Each were given the section of the photograph corresponding to the block they were given—which they painted as stylistically neutrally as possible with black and white matte acrylic (also provided) without seeing the rest of the image.– There is also a photo of @timothy.vanlaar —one of my professors from college and who was also one of the painting’s participants—with myself.– Another photo is of a tiny detail from the back (see last post) of Temma depicted on a broach by @leonora_weissmann .– And another detail of the section by @stevencarrellipittore who painted a portion of Temma’s (imagined) gold lamé prom dress in honor of his mother who was a seamstress.– The last photo depicts one edge/side of the painting with a blurry @dan_wolbert (who did the exquisite wood fabrication of the piece). The only part of the painting that I painted is on this edge/side: Guy Chase had painted his part of the “make it gold” side of the painting with fake gold acrylic paint squares (such as you might see gold leaf applied but smaller). But he didn’t realize he was supposed to paint the edge/side. So I painted fake fake gold leaf squares. “At 25 (gold side)”, mixed media on panel, 30” x 25” x 2”. Minneapolis Institute of Art. Gift of Eric Brecher, Koplin Del Rio and the 30 artists who participated in the production of the work.(I just posted over at @tlo.photo a self portrait taken in the reflection of the top middle panel of this piece and thought I should repost the painting. Some additional artists who participated are now on IG: see below)Each of the 25 parts of this work was painted by one or two artists from around the world. For this “quilt” side of the piece the directive for the participants was to “make it gold”. As one might expect the results were quite varied (in contrast to the uniformity of the other side).This project was made as a commemoration of my daughter Temma’s first 25 years and her central place in my work (and that of my wife Sherrie as well). As is often the case with a “friendship quilt” #friendshipquilt this side is more clearly a metaphor for the community of support and care that has attended Temma (and her parents) on her long journey. “Temma on Earth”, acrylic gesso with pigment on panel, 96” x 144”. Collection of the @fryeartmuseum in Seattle.This is the seventh of seven pieces that comprised my 1999-2000 exhibition “painting, this world and the next” that I have been posting about recently. More at #tl_cccWhen I started this painting I was still working with an egg oil emulsion tempera painted over a fairly monochromatic under painting made with black and white acrylic gesso. In the case of this painting I added some pigment (mainly earth tones) to the gesso to speed things up (?).But then my father died. He had cancer for several years so his death wasn’t unexpected, but it was a decisive moment in my life nevertheless. Returning to this painting (and most of the other works I was making for the show) I decided to stick with this palette and the gesso with it’s matte surface in finishing the paintings: both as a gesture of mourning and respect / reverence for my father and a way of focusing my intent with the paintings.The specific protagonist of this painting (and much of my art) is my daughter Temma. Temma is a persistent mystery who in her profound “otherness” always unmoors me from “understanding”. I suppose that the loss of my father was an “unmooring” experience. It is possible that the process I used to make this painting (including the photo collage I made as a reference) led to an image that might be analogously unmooring for the viewer. Hmm…. On the morning of April 10, 2018, after tending to my daughter Temma and while standing by her bed, the word “Radiator” came to mind. I liked the word in relation to my experience of Temma who–like a radiator–is relatively static in her presence and yet radiates a kind meaningfulness that belies that stasis. I took a series of photograph of Temma there as she lay in bed: starting the photographing at one end and moving parallel to the bed. Those images–all seeing from straight ahead–were then assembled to create an image that complicates and supersedes our experience of seeing from one place at one time (since one is seeing everything in the resulting image as if from eight different locations at the same time–all straight in front). I did this photographing process a number of times over the following weeks until the version that I ended up using for the painting came along. On that day at the end of that particular photographing session it occurred to me to take the braid (beautiful as it was!) out of Temma’s hair and that tumbling torrent of her hair said “now!”. So it began. WEBSITE INSTAGRAM Share this:TwitterFacebookTumblrPinterestWhatsAppLike this:Like Loading...