Ellie Irons

Exploring art, ecology, and whatever else catches my eye

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Fri Feb 5

Out of school...

Sort of! I’ve finished my masters, but continue to go to school, because of all this fun alternative/free school stuff that is going on in NYC of late. I particularly enjoyed some classes at the temporary Trade School (Grand Opening) over the past week. There are still a few weeks remaining to get yourself some education for barter. Dan is teaching on February 12!

(Image ripped from the OurGoods website)

Mon Jan 18

Watershed Closes Tomorrow

My MFA is almost complete! Tomorrow, January 18th, from 6-8, we have a closing reception in the gallery. Our thesis exhibition was written about favorably by James Wagner of Art Cat in a recent blog post. I like what he had to say about my work, especially his notion that it “addresses our ‘attachment’ to our environment, both the gifted and the corrupted”.  Details about the final events of the show here.

Image:

Tributary Study: Calamity Brook/Henderson Lake (detail), 2009
18 1/4 x 9 1/4 inches
graphite on paper

Tue Jan 5

Disparate Landscapes: Charles Burchfield and New Topograhics

I spent yesterday driving around Los Angeles with Dan, his sister Jen, and her boyfriend Jonathan. We were out to catch the final day of two exhibitions: Heat Waves in a Swamp: The Paintings of Charles Burchfield, at the Hammer, and New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-Altered Landscape, at LACMA. We weren’t intending to see two landscape-based shows back to back, but I’m glad we did.  Although the two exhibitions approach landscape from highly divergent perspectives, I found echoes of my own landscape investigations in each.

The Burchfield show, curated by Robert Gober, is romantic, expressive, and full of color. It includes a recreation of Burchfield’s 1930 exhibition at New York’s MoMA, the first solo show put on by the fledgling museum. It also follows Burchfield through his years working as a wallpaper designer, and his rise as part of American Scene Painting. For me, the most exciting part of the exhibition is the final room. Sparely hung, it is devoted to the large-scale watercolors Burchfield made in the final decades of his life. During these years (the 1950s and 60s) Burchfield broke his ties with American Scene Painting and returned to his youthful search for a romantic, direct connection with nature and his own experiences in it.

The paintings in this room radiate an exalted, ecstatic calm but also suggest a man deeply engaged in the world around him.  They are both mundanely detailed and somehow sublime- we see cicada husks, dirt, river rocks, trees, flowers; but also calligraphic arcs of sound and shimmering forms suggesting light and energy. Entering this room I couldn’t help but think of the final segment of the recent Turner exhibition at the Met. Both artists seemed to find a sudden and extreme freedom in their later years, expanding upon a lifetime of painting with new passion and certainty. As Dan and I begin this new year (approaching our thirties and looking forward to a lifetime of creating) evidence of such long-lasting creative output is inspiring indeed.

In a very different vein, the photographers included in New Topographics attempt to approach landscape with an objective, impersonal eye. The LACMA exhibition is actually a “restaging” of the 1975 exhibition held at the International Museum of Photography, George Eastman House.  It includes now well-known topographic greats like Bernd and Hilla Becher, Robert Adams and Stephen Shore, who participated in the 1975 exhibition, as well as additions like Robert Smithson and Dan Graham. The curators also commissioned a video installation from the Center for Land Use Interpretation (CLUI), whose contribution is the only contemporary work included.

As expected, the work in this exhibition takes a cool, analytic approach to landscape. Despite the emphasis on objectivity (and perhaps due to the lingering influence of Burchfield, which we saw first) I felt the sublime creep into this exhibition as well. In the work of Adams especially, I found an almost clinical sublime. He isolates and analyzes the landscapes he documents, but the images still retain a sense of the wild and the raw. In the case of CLUI, I see a combination of Burchfield and Adams. This sounds a bit illogical, but experiencing CLUI’s massive double video projection, drifting slowly over bleak scenes of oil fields in California and Texas, I felt a distinct sense of subjective passion infusing this objective “interpretation” of 21st Century Landscape.

update: another blog post/review of the show here.

Images:

Charles E. Burchfield, September Wind and Rain, 1949

Bernd and Hilla Becher, Loomis Coal Breaker/Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania, 1974

Sun Dec 6

Upcoming...

The results of my stick/branch/twig gathering habits of the past year or so are going to be on view soon as part of my thesis exhibition. Dan and I are also at work on a web component for the show, which will live here eventually.

Sun Oct 25

Autumn Colors

We took an amazing trip to upstate New York this past week. Most of the trip was concentrated near the heart of the Adirondack Park in the Huntington Wildlife Forest, but we also stopped through Albany on our rainy trip home, where I gathered a spectacular mix of sugar maple, norway maple, red oak and liquid amber leaves. More about the trip to come!

Sun Oct 4

Precipitation

It’s raining today in NYC. I’m sitting on the couch in the soft light of late afternoon, listening to the drizzle. I’ve been thinking a lot about water since I came back to this city about a month ago. Canals, storm drains, decommissioned water towers- infrastructure for controlling water surrounds us in urban environments. And here in New York, we also sit at the apex of many rivers- the Hudson being the most remarkable and well-known of them. A few weeks ago, I googled “Hudson River Watershed” and came up with this image:

I love how the watershed (the area of land drained by the Hudson and its tributaries) has little regard for city limits or state lines. It’s an ancient and ever-changing structure that as humans we participate in, but do not control. This image grabbed me in such a way that I started researching the watershed. I quickly stumbled into a complex web of issues (political, environmental, aesthetic, historical) that are tied to the Hudson, and I was hooked. I’m working on my masters thesis right now, and everything I’ve made so far (drawings, sculptures, sketches) relates to the concept of the watershed and our relationship to it as New Yorkers and city dwellers.

Below: me looking down on the Hudson and the town of Cold Spring. Much more “research” of this kind to follow! (thanks Dan)

Tue Sep 29

Flyway is launched!

Dan helped me document my Schiermonnikoog Project. He did a wonderful job:

www.ellieirons.com/flyway

Mon Aug 24

Gathering & Building...

This month has been extremely satisfying. I often spend early mornings out in the dewy forests and meadows of this island, gathering project materials (mostly dead sticks & branches). It’s very quiet, contemplative work, except for the moments when I startle a wild creature, or one startles me (generally a large Dutch hare or a panicked pheasant- they come bursting out of the brush as I move along).

When I have what I need for the day, plus maybe a cup of blackberries for breakfast, I bundle the sticks together and cycle back to camp.

There, in the afternoon, I build…also quiet, contemplative work, punctuated by the occasional difficulty (the sudden snap of a branch that breaks in my face with a loud crack), or the arrival of a curious visitor or a noisy tractor (see below!).  All in all, things are very peaceful in my make-shift outdoor studio. At this point, I have just one week to go- by next Saturday everything will complete, and I’ll have to head back to NYC and get my city life on again. Sigh!

Thu Aug 6

A small death.

There are swallows everywhere on this island. They swoop and flit from the early morning to past sunset (10:00 pm, currently).  There are very few cars on the island but this little fellow managed to collide with one of them, just as I was passing on my bicycle. A friend picked him up and handed him to me. I’ve never held a wild creature so recently deceased. The tiny body was amazingly soft, warm and light; the fragile neck was utterly limp, and I felt I had to support the head with my fingertips to keep it in one piece. Sad, but also terribly beautiful.

Mon Jul 27

Oh languishing blog!

I haven’t forgotten you! I just finished a really amazing week teaching acrylic painting and stick sculpture to an inspired bunch of 10-17 year olds at summer camp. Plus, I got to sleep in a tent under the pines, and saw the best milky way I’ve seen in years.  Here’s a shot of some of the paintings the kids came up with…I was trying to teach them about abstraction & alternative painting techniques, and for the most part, they did pretty well with it!

Plus, some images from my little corner of the arts classroom: