Spots Before My Eyes: An Open Ended Encounter with Damien Hirst

A visitor to Hypergraphia at the Flatiron observed, "there is the infinite variety of things, then there is an infinite variation of one thing. Your installation is the latter". I like that a lot! Infinite is out of my reach, but it is true that each time I draw or paint on a paper coffee cup - always the one shape and surface texture - a new image emerges.

 Cup of the Day #99 by Gwyneth Leech

Homage to Damien Dot Cup - state 1

Colored India ink on upcycled white paper cup

This came back to me shortly after I entered Gagosian Gallery on 24th Street to look at the Damien Hirst Spotravaganza on view. At first it was just acres of spots, but as I wandered the huge galleries I noted with appreciation that no two canvases are alike. He too is engaged in the infinite variation of one thing, in this case grids of multicolored spots on pristine white canvas. Principally the colors and sizes of the spots vary, as do the sizes and shapes of the canvases, but within each group of shapes and sizes are further variations. I especially appreciated the different meta-patterns emerging from whites spaces between spots in a set of circular canvases in the rear gallery. 

The edges of paintings caught my eye also. Where the spots are huge and sit right at the edges, the canvases seem to bulge and contract. In another room a very long canvas contained the spots on three sides, but cut through all of them on the vertical - spots by the yard!

 Cup of the Day #99 by Gwyneth Leech

Homage to Damien Dot Cup - state 2

Colored India ink on upcycled white paper cup

All of this was interesting enough to take me to the second Gagosian gallery on 21st street. When I walked in the door and saw the same display of large and small canvases, with the same tonal effects of highly pigmented spots on pristine white canvases I was suddenly filled with a feeling of exhaustion. But plunging in I enjoyed the extremes of scale - in some paintings the spots so tiny that I could barely make them out hanging next to one the length of a football field. I also made the fun discovery that when you stand close to the wall the spots turn into rows. 

Overall I have to say, I like the spot paintings to the extent that they remind me of those strips of candy dots on white paper that we used to buy as kids! Funny then that some of the spot studies shown in an accompanying book are actually arrays of venoms. Some candy strip that!

  Cup of the Day #99 by Gwyneth Leech

Homage to Damien Dot Cup - state 3

Colored India ink on upcycled white paper cup

At this point, I would love to show you some photos of the spot painting shows, but the security guards said no cameras. I was tempted to photograph the Hirst gift shop through the window on 24th street, where a pile of Hirst coffee mugs was plainly to be seen on a plinth (a colored dot in the bottom of each), but respecting his intellectual property, I returned to the Flatiron window and drew a Damien Hirst homage spot cup and hung it up.

The color swatches on the white background looked all wrong hanging there. So I took it down again and considered. Would I leave all that negative space? Let Damien have it; I would follow the call of the fractal! Before long, a positive lace of smaller and smaller dots encased the cup, knitting it up until it found its proper place amongst the Hypergraphia cup drawings.  

 Cup of the Day #99 by Gwyneth Leech

Homage to Damien Dot Cup - finished state

Colored India ink on upcycled white paper cup

This is what I learned form the experience - painting free hand circles of color is hard! If my project of infinite variation involved that kind of pristine execution I would hire a stable of workers too. As it is, my approach has a lot to do with impulse, error and chance - of which there is an infinite amount in the world. It really is an open-ended proposition.

"And for that matter", said my husband, "so is a cup."

Good photos of Damien's spots at Gagosian can be seen on Blake Gopnik's Daily Pic.

And here is a posting of 10 spot reviews over on GalleristNY.

The Naked Studio

See the lengths to which we artists will go to make our art?

Ready to work in the Flatiron, Studio in the Prow
Photo courtesy of Cecilia De Boucort 

I am an active procrastinator. When my apartment is as neat as a pin, the cutlery drawers sorted, the filing cabinet in perfect order, that is usually when I have a pressing art deadline. When my painting studio was in my home, I became adept at Final Cut Pro video editing, Photoshop, Excel spreadsheets, and writing.

Eventually, I started renting a painting studio in the Garment District in Manhattan with no internet access and no computer on site. My children are in school all day, I had the time to paint seriously and so I did, regularly and productively.

But I grew lonely.

Cup of the Day #91

Twining Vines by Gwyneth Leech

Colored India ink pen on upcycled white paper coffee cup

It seemed like a few committees would balance things out. But my active procrastinator took over and before I knew it two schools, various art groups and a lengthy turn on the co-op board of my building were keeping me from my brushes and glued to my computer again.

 

Then came the cups. Sitting still and listening at meetings, my hands needed to move constantly and without really being aware of it, my paper coffee cups were covered with drawings. These drawing intrigued me and I followed the thread. The cup form is the same each time, so I gave myself complete permission to draw anything I liked. This way, with pens at the ready, and an inexhaustible supply of something to draw on, I have managed to stay in a highly generative place.

 Early morning, Flatiron

The Naked Studio before the artist arrives

September, 2011 

Now all that was needed was a way to put art-making firmly center stage, the inviolable fulcrum of my day. My current exhibition at the Flatiron Building, Hypergraphia: Studio in the Prow is the perfect answer. Here I am, in a naked, glass-walled studio right in the center of the city, in the middle of my best and most productive time of day and days of the week. Everyone passing by is making me keep my commitment to my art-form, and the flow of visitors who come inside to talk livens the solo work of making my art. 

Visitors to the Prow Artspace from 

Saint John's University, NY and from

England, Scotland and California

Several artist friends have said they couldn't do this, they couldn't draw in public, couldn't commit to all these weeks. But it doesn't feel like a burden to me. The prow is quiet, the faces - especially those of the children - full of delight. What a privileged position to be in, to see how viewers react to our artwork!

And when January comes and I have to leave the Prow Studio?  I am going to remember the lessons I have learned about pacing myself, about ring-fencing time for work, about being unplugged, about making art with others.

And my cutlery drawer is going to be very, very neat once again.

Waking Up to Christian Marclay's Clock: 5:00 AM - 8:00 AM

New Yorkers are always in a rush, on a schedule, trying to fit in too many things in a city where everything is too far apart. So how to explain the attraction here of Christian Marclay's the Clock, a video projection made up of time-marking moments from thousands of films and TV shows... with a running time of 24 hours!?

Cups of the Day #71

Wall of coffee cup drawings

by Gwyneth Leech 
10:00 AM in the studio

 

It played at Paul Cooper Gallery for five weeks. Two days before it closed an article appeared in the New York Times and suddenly the lines were hours long to get in. I decided I couldn't bear to spend more time in the line than I did watching the film, so, since I had left it to the last 24 hour screening, I went in the middle of the night. When I woke at 4:30AM last Saturday in the grip of my usual anxieties I thought, "what the heck, I'll go to Chelsea". I dressed in the dark, sneaked out of the apartment without waking the family and hopped a cab to 21st Street.

I joined a short line, made up of some people ending their night, others beginning their day. We talked about the movie and its meaning, swapped stories of why we had left it so late to come and generally built a bond of camaraderie in the cold night air. I enjoyed the chat and was almost sorry when 20 minutes later I was ushered inside to take the place of someone who had baled.

 Wall of Cups

by Gwyneth Leech

10:25 AM in the studio 

There, along with hundreds of other viewers, I found myself quickly drawn into a weird world of sleepers, waking dreamers, lovers, workers, families, all hermetically sealed inside their endless movie. The conventions of time compression are turned upside down as the banal, dramatic, suspenseful or funny time marking devices expand into a huge, seamless, kaleidoscopic almost-narrative. The whole is a clock marking real time. The video is a triumph of vision and sound editing, a hyper-tribute to the beauty of the movies, and a time collage of beloved actors aging, growing young and aging again.

In the three hour segment I watched, hundreds of screen people woke up to clocks and alarms of all descriptions (who knew there was so many ways to wake up - some funny, some amorous, some murderous?). Between 6:30 and 8:00 AM, at first intermittently, then with ever increasing frequency, breakfasts flickered across the screen - toast popping, bacon sizzling, coffee brewing, coffee pouring, coffee being drunk. Finally, I could stand it no more - I fled to find my own.

Outside, I was surprised that it was broad daylight, and was struck by the long vistas of the empty streets after so many close ups. Climbing the stairs to my apartment, I felt disoriented by the smell of bacon - my husband was making a movie breakfast, and greeted we with a kiss on the cheek. Life mirrors art mirrors life. The time was 8:15AM.

Wall of Cups 

by Gwyneth Leech

11:00 AM  in the studio

Trash Talk

Cup of the Day #29

by Gwyneth Leech, 2010

Green India ink on white Cup

The High Line Park, that extraordinary oasis atop an old elevated rail line in Chelesea, is looking lush and gorgeous right now. The plants are acclimatizing well since the park opened a year ago and it feels more and more like the urban nature preserve of many imaginations, albeit with comfortable places to sit, amazing lighting at night and spotless, litter-free walkways.

There are also lots of trash cans - not found on the old High Line of course - and giving into my trash picking artist instincts I peeked into many during my walk there the other day, doing a quick survey of the contents around noon on a weekday. Far and away, there were more cardboard coffee cups than anything else: Joe's Coffee, Ninth Street Coffee, 'Wichcraft, Starbucks, 7-11, anonymous deli cups and more.  'Wichcraft sometimes has a coffee cart up here, but not today. These are all carry in, and leave behind.

The High Line Park on a June morning, 2010 

 

Is it a New York City thing or is it everywhere, this walking with a coffee cup? Time was, everyone had a cigarette in mouth. I looked around - no cigarettes, but almost everyone had a cup in hand. Someone told me recently, "I love my coffee in a cardboard cup. It means I am out somewhere, doing something, on the move." It has an irresistible appeal, but doesn't it add up to an awful lot of cups? A few days later, my friend Christian sent me a photo he took during the inauguration in DC last year. Ah yes, a lot of coffee cups.

Back on the High Line, I have to admit, I couldn't resist picking out two empties: a Joe's Coffee cup in tender pale blue, and a Ninth Street Coffee cup, all-over black with a crisp white silhouette of a cup on the side. They went into my bag to be drawn on later. It's a slippery slope, this trash picking, but I took the chance.

 

Guest photo

Discarded coffee cups

Inauguration, DC, 2009

by Christian Smythe 

The Chelsea Transverse

 

Cup of the Day #18

Ochre Cup, Verso by Gwyneth Leech

India ink on ochre colored cup, 2010

It started with the decision to go see Jacob Kedzierski's photos in a show at Baboo photo Lab on 20th Street between 5th and 6th. I had heard about his large scale photo-collage using a shot of every street sign in New York City and I wanted to see it for myself.

I was on 5th Avenue where by chance I had come across a butter yellow Van Leeuwen's Ice Cream and Espresso Truck parked at 15th Street. Known for an impressive array of organic ice cream flavors, their coffee also rocks. They use Intelligentsia, a fair trade coffee, the beans roasted in Chicago.  One of their five vans is parked at this location Monday to Friday and they Tweet their movements here.

I tried an Affogato - vanilla ice cream (beans from Papua New Guinea) drenched with a shot of hair-raising espresso. Wow! Highly animated after this, I was ready to walk straight across Chelsea on 20th Street from 5th Avenue to the West Side Highway.

First stop, Baboo at #37. Jacob's piece was a satisfying crazy quilt of street signs and traffic signs arranged into a kaleidoscopic cityscape - the product of months of shooting and many hours of photoshop.

From there I strode west and was met with a panoply of unexpected treasures, including:
- A Chinese import shop, ancient-looking chests lurking in darkened recesses and knock-offs of contemporary Chinese paintings hung by the door.
- At 7th Avenue a tiny girl in a starched primrose frock and red hair bow, joyfully new to walking, rounding the corner with an attentive nanny right behind.
- One, two three amazing coffee shops in a row: Spoon, Cafe Grumpy and the original La Bergamote.
- The modest brownstone at #347 where 98 year old sculptor Louise Bourgeois still lives, bringing back the recollection of several tea salons there (a good story for another occasion!).
- A cascade of wisteria in bloom, hanging over the wall of the General Theological Seminary at 9th Avenue, abuzz with bees.
 - Finally, the Renegade Accordianist sitting by the steps leading up to the Highline Park just past 10th Avenue. Sporting a cardboard Centurion helmet, he was playing rather doleful tunes but was cheerful when I engaged him in conversation. A student at City College, he is training to be an engineer and is excited to be starting an internship with the MTA next week. I dropped a dollar in his box and continued along the final block of the transverse.

Wisteria in Chelsea, NYC
April, 2010

My ostensible destination was Elizabeth Dee Gallery at the corner of 20th and the Westside Highway, where Ryan McNamara was giving a running commentary on his life to all comers over the course of four days. When I got there he was still in good voice, explaining the multifarious stages of his colorful career as dancer, curator, painter, performance artist and prankster, illustrated by a gallery-full of photos and videos. His taste for theatrical wounds was interesting. (The question I didn't get to ask - is that a real black eye he sports in the studio photo taken when he was about two?)

However, it was at Kim Foster Gallery nearby that I made coffee landfall again. In John Kirchner's solo show, sadly just closed, "Reflections on the Process of Assimilation" was a standout installation. A man's white dress shirt hangs suspended in mid-air. The lower part of the sleeves and shirt tails are coffee-stained and the brown color appears to be draining down from the shirt in thin streams into three cups of real coffee sitting on the ground directly below. Or perhaps the color is wicking upwards, turning the shirt from white to brown? When I was there the installation was still available for purchase at $10,000, refills not included.

 

Reflections on the Process of Assimilation

By John Kirchner

from A Short History of America and Its Peoples

Photo courtesy of Kim Foster Gallery

Minding Your Beeswax

 

 

Cup of the day #17
Drip Cup by Gwyneth Leech, 2009
Color India ink on white cardboard cup

A lot of discussion has been going on recently amongst artists and critics - again, still - about the handmade art object versus conceptual art (in which the idea is perceived as being more important than the actual artwork). During the Spring art fair week last month, a fair in Chelsea called Independent showcased a group of international galleries interested in both. Ideas were balanced by well-made art objects and there was much attention given to thought-provoking installation. Independent was the brain child of Chelsea art dealer Elizabeth Dee who has a consistently interesting gallery program along these lines in her Chelsea space. Visit the upcoming program here.

Independent was held on four floors of a huge gallery building on 22nd Street just off the West Side Highway. On the ground floor, art and concept married to create some terrific sandwiches at the Farmcart table, a business started by an artist and manned by artists during the fair. The food and the Illy coffee were amazing, although the artists on shift were remarkably grumpy. Perhaps sandwiches are better served in New York by actors than by painters?

Upstairs, among the galleries, hands down my favorite piece was a voluptuous crimson vase displayed in a bell jar at Moss Gallery. It was rather off-center and a little lumpy but of the most exquisite delicacy. Its rare and extraordinary craftsmanship was in the fact the work of bees! Tomáš Gabzdil Libertiny, a Slovakian-born designer based in the Netherlands, makes a form which goes into a hive and the bees build the honey comb over and around it. The crimson comes from a dye dripped into the hive, ingested by the bees and secreted in their wax. This detail reminds me that Charles Darwin used the same dye technique 150 years ago to study how bees build their cells, a pleasing cross-reference.

The dealer added another interesting twist. Once the bees have made a vessel in this way, industriously building it around the form, that particular hive refuses to do it again. They are busy but apparently they aren't stupid! Well, it isn't exactly handmade, but that's what I call one of a kind.

Crimson Vase, Made by Bees
Studio Libertiny at

Moss Gallery NYC