29 April 2012

Small-Scale Ecorevelatory Architecture: Treehouses, Tiny Houses and Tipis


The first time I heard the term, "ecorevelatory," I was at an architecture conference at the University of Oregon in 2000. It made me think of Gaudi, whose work I had seen in Barcelona when I went there in 1996. Around this time I also became aware of the ecobuilding movement. Since then I have seen a wide array of buildings that I consider highly ecorevelatory. They reveal nature through their form and materials, and they also reveal the nature of the person who designed them.

These types of structures fit well into a classic problem: solution ratio. Thus, the need for shelter, for creative outlets, for a greater connection to nature and each other; these needs and others are met by the actual building we live in. As we know, the medium is the message, and a beautiful space yields beautiful ideas.

It is an ideal situation, to me.

The difference between Art and Architecture? To me, Art is primarily spectative, meant to provoke thought and incite whimsy. Architecture, on the other hand, produces something you could actually dwell in. This makes it extra special in my book, and why I didn't become an architect a decade ago, I couldn't tell you. Perhaps it was the music, knocking at the doors of my perception. Or maybe it was the seed crops, asking for water and weeding. At any rate, here is a list of my favorite examples of ecorevelatory architecture.





Treehouses

Who wouldn't want to live in such an integegrated and inspiring structure? If you don't have vertigo, a treehouse brings out the kid in all of us. Check out:

A treehouse resort in Southern Oregon

Treehouse Workshops

The Treehouse Guys



Tiny Houses
The tiny house movement has taken off, and people all over are starting to agree that less is more. You can find detailed blueprints all over the web, but here are some links to get you started.

The Tiny House Blog

Tiny House Designs

Tiny Houses for Sale





24 April 2012

Land Art


Andy Goldsworthy

“The medium (and the message) is Mother Earth herself.”
--Grace Glueck

I am learning to differentiate between art that is made in nature, art that is made out of natural materials, art that is made to represent nature, and art that directly protects or influences a natural system. A preliminary google search on Land Art yields too much information to explore in a short overview such as this, but I have done my best to conduct a thorough survey of the most prominent artists in this arena, and have highlighted several of them below.

For detailed, debatable definitions, read these wikipedia entries:
And here is an interesting article on definitions:

In his book, Land Art, author Michael Lailach presents the Land Art movement as a radical departure from the last 2000 years of art history, in that the art is made without intention toward indoor display. Of course outdoor public sculpture has always been popular, but Land Art, as labeled by Gerry Schum in his 1969 television special on the topic, is something new.

Christo and Jeanne Claude
Land Art is art that changes (and often disappears) the way life does. This is fascinating to me because I have always thought of my art as my legacy, and of the works I leave behind as the replacement for the children I have chosen not to have. The idea of making art that is designed to disappear is simultaneously terrifying and inspiring.

The primary curiosity of this kind of art (and also, perhaps, its power) is the fact that it is so difficult to show it in a gallery. Some artists seem to prefer it that way, eschewing gallery politics and making bold statements about the way humans interact with art, nature, and each other, such as Walter De Maria’s famous quote “God has given us the earth, and we have ignored it. ”  (page 15)

When De Maria was commissioned to create a show for an upscale gallery in Munich in 1978, he filled the entire gallery with dirt and barricades visitors from entering. This was a statement about the way the natural world is barricaded from our upscale gallery culture.

17 April 2012

Springtime in Portland: An Ephemeral Art Collaboration

In these early stages of my inquiry into land and ephemeral arts, I felt it necessary to get outside and make some stuff. My friend and colleague, Seattle-based photographer Audineh Asaf came to Portland for the weekend and we spent a day paying tribute to the resilient, multifunctional, and misunderstood dandelion. These are just the very beginning of a body of work that Audi and I intend to co-create.


We started with three simple pieces: The first piece was a spiral around the fire pit in my back yard. I live next door to a houseful of young, vibrant people, and we share a large urban backyard that is in much need of proactive garden energy. I was hoping the little gesture of affinity for the plants would stir up some interest and intention between us.

How to Make a Sock Cthulhu (and other fun ways to reconcile with your mortality)

I stumbled across this silly and delightful project. I mean, who doesn't need a cute little effigy to the Sleepless Dreamer?

Here's the directions for making a sock Cthulhu. But I warn you, this is a gateway doll-making project! After I finished this one I spent the weekend obsessed with turning lonely old socks into goofy little creatures.


When I make monster art, I always think about how small we are in the universe, and how inexplicable reality is.












Last night I watched the Secret Life of Plants and was reminded that every living thing has a consciousness, and responds to the consciousness of those around it.







Another relevant film is the deliciously ridiculous mockumentary, Trollhunter. I found it quite provocative in its revelation of the contrast between humanity and the unknown.

And who is to say that there aren't great beings--not gods--just creatures that are too large for us to see? I understand that millions of people believe in gods. But I am talking about mortal, breathing beings that exist in places we have yet to have explored. I enjoy the humility that comes from this type of contemplation.



16 April 2012

Life Drawing Class: Pyxie in a Halfshell

The other night I hosted a Life Drawing session at my tiny studio in Portland. My friend Pyxie was the model and four of us circled her, drawing and painting in a variety of media. We had her do four 3-minute poses, three 10-minute poses, and two half-hour poses. It was really fun! And really challenging.

The drawings here were all made by the other women at the session. Only the painting at the bottom is mine.
It has been about ten years since I tried to draw from a live nude model. I felt like I was in third grade, drawing lumpy, ugly sketches that didn't look at all like Pyxie. It was humbling but also very interesting. In the final pose I decided to go abstract, focusing on how her lines and angles made me feel, rather than trying to get it all shadowed and proportioned correctly.


I know that, for art to have the resilient qualities that bring about culture change, it usually needs to have a human figure represented in some fashion. Sure, there are plenty of examples of artwork that doesn't have any eyes, but for the most part, the art that moves me most often contains some aspect of the human form.


I enjoy trying to think of ways to use figures and silhouettes in eco-revelatory work, whether visual or performance-based, as a means of connecting more deeply with the audience.