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My Studio
My art studio is located deep in the bowels of south St. Louis. It’s a dodgy part of town and, from the outside, the building where my studio is located looks like a place where serial killers would come to cut up their victims. But inside, the space is very nice.
I have 1,500 square feet of bright white work area, 12′ high ceilings, and lots of amenities like enough power outlets for a small city, a big electrical box so we never lose juice, and a peg board that can hold all the tools in a Home Depot.
Tim is the guy who owns the building. He’s an engineer. I like having an engineer own the building rather than an artist, accountant, lawyer or insurance agent. When things go wrong in a building, you want a guy who knows how to do stuff, not a guy who makes his living running income statements. Engineers know how to do stuff and because they’re engineers, they usually over-engineer a solution so the problem is fixed for the next millenium. This is Tim’s first foray into building ownership and management. I’m his first tenant.
My former studio was located on a third-floor walkup in an old brewery. Every time I stepped into the building I’d get a flashback to when I lived in New York City in the mid-70s. My studio then was close to Bedford-Stuyvesant, which at that time was the 2nd worst neighborhood in America. You’d practically need combat pay just to get in and out of the place.
My brewery studio had wonderful light, but the windows were loose in their frames and the building was drafty. The owners seldom turned on the heat in the winter and there was no air conditioning in the summer, so for half or more of each year, I’d either be shaking or sweating. But the street had large, mature trees. There was a friendly bar just outside, a shop that sold pies a few doors down, several antique stores, and the local coffee house two blocks away was grand. They had a small reading library so, if you wanted to, you could buy a cheap lunch, find a warm spot and read Elmore Leonard all afternoon.
I stuck it out for about 15 months at the old studio, but when winter came the second time around, I just couldn’t take the cold any more. So I flew south about 8 blocks to greener pastures and central heating.
If you’re in the neighborhood, stop in and have a cool drink from the community water fountain. I’ll play some jazzy tunes from the ipod and we can snap our fingers and call each other ‘man,’ just like artists are supposed to do. And depending on how I feel that day, I may even put on a beret.
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29 Dec 2011
Music for Making Art
I had an artist friend who never listened to music while she worked and seldom listened to music at other times. Personally, I think this is inconceivable. I can’t imagine not listening to music while creating art. For me, music is a muse and inspires the other art senses.
In no particular order, here are some of the tunes I like to play while in my studio. I usually crank them up to ‘Jive and Wail’ levels. Even though I’ve chosen one track from each artist, I generally listen to multiple tracks at a time.
(By the way, I’m sorry I couldn’t get this list to line up left and right. The justify function doesn’t seem to be working on my blog. I hate when that happens! I’m anal-retentive when it comes to lists.)
Title Artist
Until You Come Back to Me …………….. Aretha Franklin
Ocean Beach………. The Mighty Black Orchestra
Tangled Up In Blue…………….. Bob Dylan
Wings for Sarah…………….. Bob James
Where is Love…………….. Bobby Caldwell
Beyond the Sea…………….. Bobby Darin
Nick of Time…………….. Bonnie Raitt
I’m on Fire…………….. Bruce Springsteen
What are You Doing the Rest of Your Life…………….. Chris Botti and Sting
Viva La Vida…………….. Coldplay
Badge…………….. Cream
My Mate Paul…………….. David Holmes
New Frontier…………….. Donald Fagen
Peaceful Easy Feeling…………….. The Eagles
September…………….. Earth, Wind & Fire
Change the World…………….. Eric Clapton
Fall in Love…………….. Estelle
Gypsy…………….. Fleetwood Mac
Late Night Session…………….. Fluff
Noodle Soup…………….. Four80East
Crazy…………….. Gnarls Barkley
Route 101…………….. Herb Alpert
Yah Mo B There…………….. James Ingram
Shower The People…………….. James Taylor
All for You…………….. Janet Jackson
Steppin’ Out…………….. Joe Jackson
Rainbow Seeker II…………….. Joe Sample
Save Room…………….. John Legend
Callie…………….. Joyce Cooling
How ‘Bout That…………….. Kevin Toney
Smiles and Smiles to Go…………….. Larry Carlton
Something About You …………….. Level 42
Walk On The Wild Side…………….. Lou Reed
Cubanova…………….. Marc Antoine
Diggable…………….. Marion Meadows
What’s Going On……………. Marvin Gaye
Rock With You…………….. Michael Jackson
It’s Been Too Long…………….. Nick Colionne
Restless Feeling…………….. Nick Lowe
Pacific Coast Highway…………….. Nils
Minuano…………….. Pat Metheny
Graceland…………….. Paul Simon
Caravan of Dreams…………….. Peter White
Islands…………….. Phillip Glass
One for the Girls…………….. Rick Braun
Under My Thumb…………….. The Rolling Stones
Sunrise…………….. Simply Red
Faded …………….. Soul Decision
Sara…………….. Starship
My Old School…………….. Steely Dan
High Noon…………….. Steve Oliver
That Girl…………….. Stevie Wonder
Englishman in New York…………….. Sting
Sapphire Island…………….. The Rippingtons
With Or Without You…………….. U2
She’s All That…………….. Walter Beasley
Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?…………….. Waylon Jennings
What are the songs that inspire you? Please share. I need more music to add to my iPod.
29 Dec 2011
Revisiting Rothko and Newman.
Left: Mark Rothko, ‘Untitled.’ Right: Barnett Newman, ‘Achilles.’
In my youth, I was an admirer of the painters, Mark Rothko and Barnett Newman. I studied Rothko extensively and wrote a thesis paper on Newman in graduate art school. I always thought Rothko’s work was deeper, more intense, more spiritual and primal. Yet, I admired Newman’s minimalist approach to subject matter, content and palate.
A few months ago, I saw the theatrical play, Red, the story of Rothko in late career. The actor who played the artist interpreted him as loud, bombastic, tortured and a bit of a bully. Perhaps that was Rothko’s true personality, but judging only from his art, I had always pictured him as thoughtful and contemplative, so the two sides of the man didn’t fit well for me. I didn’t think the playwright seemed comfortable in Rothko’s skin. As a result, the play was a disappointment for that and other reasons.
Around the same time, I happened upon that thesis I had written some 30 years earlier and discovered my writing was full of the pretentious, inflated, pseudo-intellectual art speak that one finds in art magazines. Like the play, my paper was a disappointing read.
I’m still of fan of Rothko’s work. Visually, his paintings have held up well over many years. Newman’s art, on the other hand, looks thin, shallow and vacant. Not sure what I thought all the excitement was about.
— Mark Travers
20 Dec 2011
The Business Value of Art.
It is estimated that the arts return $8 in economic output for every $1 in investment received. Economic value is measured as a better engaged and more productive workforce, a more stable and diversified workforce, a more vibrant and attractive community, a better-educated local population, and the number of tourist dollars flowing in from outside the community. If someone said: “You give me $1 and I’ll give you $8 back,” you’d think that was a pretty good deal, right? Cutting subsidies to the arts is not just pound foolish, it’s counter-productive to job creation and regional economic vitality.
— Mark Travers
19 Dec 2011
