GERALD SHEFFIELD
Above (L to R):
Termez, 12” x 9”, Vinyl on panel, 2020
Young Buck, 12” x 9”, Vinyl and acrylic medium on panel, 2020
White Gold Bloom, 18” x 12”, Vinyl and acrylic medium on panel, 2020
Kumushkon, 12” x 9”, Gouache on paper, 2020
LINNÉA GAD
Sprint, Carved juniper wood, 2020
In the last months I’ve been spending my time in the Stockholm archipelago on a small island where I grew up. Not since I was a child have I spent so much time in this place. It has made me painfully aware that I used to be more deeply connected to this island and its surroundings. Today I move around in a more traditionally responsible manner driven by tasks such as; reeking leaves, clearing forest of dead trees or cutting lilac bushes before they bloom. At this time, when it has been difficult for me to know why I make work, I’ve gladly directed my energy towards such steadfast labour.
I then came across this half dead juniper bush, so badly shaded by other trees that it had lost its vitality. I decided to cut the juniper down and work with it. As I shed old layers of bark, remaining needles and dead branches I found a hopeful structure inside that revealed uncertain but bouncy legs of a young deer that just learnt to hold itself up. It evoked in me the youthful experience of uncertainty as something hopeful and exciting.
What does not come across in this picture is the smell of the piece that fills the space it is in. The exposed juniper flesh when sanded can become incredible soft while releasing a calming aroma of warm spicy wood. Ideally for me subject matter comes out of the material I’m working with and is not just communicated through it. Through the time spent collaborating with this juniper I was reminded how my empathy for the natural world comes from time spent in a playful and mediative state with my surroundings. On this island I was able to invent a pine tree kingdom, a seaweed museum and a electronic shop out of stones.
When I think of the child now within me I think of it as both young and ancient, like the shaggy juniper which had such a soothing strength underneath. I once knew so much that I later forgot. The Sprint became a intermediary between me and the animate landscape. It now stands tall in my bedroom, I wake up to its calming smell and I’m grateful for it.
JAY MIRIAM
The Sex Doll, in conversation with her stoic Cactus, 24” x 18”, Acrylic on Paper, 2020
RACHEL LIBESKIND
Above (L to R):
Heavy Hand, 9” x 6 1/2”, Found paper and photographic print with tape, 2020
Getting Your Hands Dirty, 10 3/4” x 8 1/4”, Found paper and photographic print with tape, 2020
Hand in Hand, 9 1/4” x 6 1/2”, Found paper and photographic print with tape, 2020
Tip Your Hand, 11” x 8 1/2”, Found paper and photographic print with tape, 2020
Give Me A Hand , 6” x 4”, Watercolor Concentrate and found collage scrap on aquarelle paper, 2020
Changing Hands, 9” x 6 1/2”, Found paper and photographic print with tape, 2020
A meditation on Hands
Hand
A Hand
Left Hand
Free Hand
Right Hand
Heavy Hand
Out of Hand
Second Hand
Hand In Hand
In Safe Hands
Tip Your Hand
Hand to Mouth
Give Me A Hand
Changing Hands
Get Out of Hand
On the one Hand
Force Their Hand
I S"w it First Hand
All Hands On Deck
Iʼm Trying My Hand
On The Other Hand
Got Your Hands Full
Getting Your Hands Dirty
Like The Back Of My Hand
Bite The Hand That Fed You
Hands Down The Worst Ever
Handing It To You On A Platter
The Issue at Hand (Makes No Sense)
Iʼm Taking Matters Into My Own Damn Hands
Weʼre Washing Our Hands Of This Whole Situation.
DUNCAN HANNAH
Swing, 24” x 12”, Oil on canvas, 2020
SWING.
In 1987 I did a painting for an Art Against Aids Benefit that was held at several galleries in NYC.
Mine hung at Phyllis Kind’s space on Greene Street (where I was represented at the time), sold, and the proceeds given to the Gay Men’s Health Crises. I continued to explore this image over the years , (the original anonymous photo found in the Picture File at the New York Public Library) as it had such an easy metaphor going for it. It reminded me of that old American song, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”, and the idea of someone’s ascension being as commonplace as a backyard swing struck the right balance between what is familiar and what is tragic.
This pandemic is eerily reminding me of that time, as I see friends fall by the wayside. Being quarantined in NW Connecticut I have been very productive, and decided to revisit that old chestnut of mine. I gave it a taller composition, to make it read as if his swing has a long way to go up to the heavens. The format always reminded me of Robert Motherwell’s “Open Window” series, which is a minimalist composition. This is as about minimalist as I get.
Thank you,
Duncan Hannah, West Cornwall, CT.
April 2020