Beauty and The Beast

Once again, our post is not a happy tale, much to our regret. The disaster in Japan awakens fear and angst for everyone. A natural disaster of this magnitude is too much for most souls to bear. Compound that with a man-made disaster, that has far reaching and deep psychological implications, and the burden may be too much for one nation, or the world, to handle.
We, as artists, but more so as Human Beings, are deeply concerned about the effects of nuclear energy. Yes, it's a "clean" source of electricity; Until an earthquake happens or someone falls asleep at the controls (think Homer Simpson!), or someone decides to fly an airplane into a reactor. Are we so arrogant to believe that any or all of these scenarios can't happen? Some of the comments from our politicians following the initial reports from Japan lead us to think so. And France as well, who derives 75% of their electricity from nukes, seem unfazed by what is happening in Japan.
Our concern about nuclear energy has once again pre-dated the latest disaster in Japan. And, again, we are not visionaries, merely observant, concerned and fearful. We also live about 20 miles from a nuclear power plant, whose steam can be seen rising above the nearby mountains and farm fields. This proximity coupled with our disdain and visual awe spawned some interesting pieces relative to current issues.
First there is "Cloudy," a Currier and Ives-esque pastoral landscape until closer inspection. Here we are pointing out the cloudy issue of living in close proximity to a power plant and how that effects both psychologically and physically those who live in the shadow of these plants. Not to mention the fact that many new houses are built in the shadows of these behemoths. Our houses are blue (from an old Milton-Bradley game called "Finance". Ironic, no?). The tree is dead but for one dying leaf.

In another ironic and timely piece, "Fallout" depicts a cherry tree whose leaves are blown off in a wind (nuclear) depicted in a very Japanese style. This landscape is also above a row of black (scorched) houses. Although this isn't speaking to nuclear power, it is addressing the effects of radiation on a population, specifically, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and more recently the entire Northeast coast of Japan.

And the final piece, and the most recent, is "Tower", again depicting a pastoral landscape. In the foreground looms a giant cooling tower. There are clouds in the blue sky. But upon closer inspection, the clouds are steam from the towers and the grassy hill is comprised of green Monopoly houses. This is directly influenced by the construction taking place near and around our local nuclear plant that can be seen while driving past. What are these people thinking who live in these houses today? How easy their access to the highway is so their commute is less painful? We can't imagine seeing those huge towers out of our kitchen window every day.

We feel that our pieces about nuclear power and humanity reflect an honest concern for the future. Are we, as a people, willing to risk everything for electricity? The atmosphere, the air we breathe, the water we drink, our lives??? It is time to rethink everything. Everything.

Prophet or Profit?

We have realized recently that we had made a piece in 2006 bemoaning the oil industry and its penchant for deception, lies and basic tactics that make it the most criminal of enterprises on many levels. The piece is titled "RIG", and depicts vintage metal Monopoly cars circling around what appears to be a mammoth aquamarine behind which lies a pastoral silhouette of a typical oil rig.

The title refers to both the equipment that extracts the crude from the ground and how the system in place to deliver said oil is designed to make us junkies for the stuff. The entire industry, from large, greedy corporations to lobbying groups trying to convince us that it is clean, safe and necessary for our future. Everything is rigged in their favor. That was until April, when they could no longer hide the ugly truth with slight of hand.The cat was out of the bag. The pelicans were drenched in product.
"RIG" refers to this with its outsized fake gem (cast epoxy resin made to look like a precious stone) and its endless ring of cars (from a game) circling both this faux stone and the oil rig, creating a very sinister Currier & Ives-esque narrative. Even the necklace closure is a gas pump nozzle, the equivalent of a gasoline hypodermic.
Some may look at this piece as somewhat prophetic. Many say that artists foretell the future through what they create. Perhaps, but in the case of "RIG", we are merely practitioners of common sense, not seers or prophets. We are angered by what we see to be as a plain truth and "RIG" was our way to express our grievance. We are responsible humans who are both saddened and sickened by the recent events that only further point out that the system is broken and that change to the modus operandi is needed.
A special thanks to Joan for the "nudge" and for her support.

Magnum Opus

We (humans) are always asking "what was your favorite...?", at the movies, the museum, talking about books and music. People are obsessed about finding out from each other what their favorite song is or their favorite food, painting, actor, artist. After a recent trip to a museum, the normal banter took place; "What was your favorite piece that you saw?". It created a whole new set of questions. How does one choose a "favorite?" What is the criteria? Can one be objective? Or is it a whim? "Today I liked the Picasso." "I thought the VanderWeyden was magnificent."
It raises the question for us as artists that we are constantly trying to create a "great" piece. They can't all be great. Yet it is the striving for something special, a hint of the eternal or spiritual or that sublime something that seems the quest of makers. Why does one aspire to greatness or care to be compared amongst the gigantic looming shadow of History? Certainly ego enters into the picture. But that can not be the only answer. It is far too simple.
On a daily basis, we don't think of this. We make and sometimes the outcome is good, sometimes not. But in the soup of everyday making, we are incapable of deeming something indelible. It is with the passage of time, the opinion of the few, and the endurance of the work that are the judges of what becomes "important." After all, even the educated are subjective.
So, we just keep making. Always striving to create something better than the last one. It is the struggle and the striving for betterment that makes us human. The pursuit, subconsciously, of the Magnum Opus, the defining work. We certainly won't know if or when we have made that piece, but we might get a glimpse when we hear "Oh, that one is my favorite".