Sketches

For an article about computational linguistics. Way off on the first few efforts, but I think the latter ideas came close.

iceberg painting

I spent far too much time on this disaster. The form of the face just doesn't work as well  and the icebergs are overworked. Still, the idea intrigues me, and I'll continue to explore it.

 

Iceberg Painting (too)

Iceberg Painting.

I began this series in fall 2009. After grappling with it for some time, the motif began to crystallize.

Iceberg.

New Freelance.

From an article about the impending bankruptcy of Twin River, a slot casino in Lincoln Rhode Island. The article made use of some medical imagery (IV's pulse, etc.) hence the "flatline" gag.

From the Cutting Room Floor.

Now and then I like to post some things that—for one reason or another—didn't make the cut for illustration jobs. Here are a couple of ideas I suggested (and favored, at least in the formal sense) for an article about the transformation of North Carolina from a hot bed of KKK activity to one Obama's swing states in the 2008 election. The editors felt the imagery suggested racism targeting President Obama (not really the thrust of the article), so neither image was used.

More to the iceberg.

It's probably an act of vain folly to include unfinished work on a blog that is mean as self-promotion, but here goes. I think my process is a testament to the old apothegm, "it ain't over 'til it's over." While things look pretty bad en route it's always heartening to turn a corner and see some promise of resolution on the horizon. I worked last night on one of the paintings from a previous post and while it's nowhere near finished, I think I have begun to understand what needs to be done.

Sono tornato.

It's been far too long and a great deal has happened since my last entry, but I'm back in the saddle, having moved home to the US. What a great two years in Rome and the rest of Europe. I have many photos from my travels and will post them soon, but meanwhile I'm including here some stirrings of new paintings. This group is about icebergs, the metaphorical partner to volcanoes. 

New Freelance.

A couple of new illustrations for Brandeis University's Catalyst magazine. The first is for an article about research into the locomotive properties of microscopic organisms in developing new nanotechnology. The second concerns the gradual transformation of North Carolina from a KKK hotbed in the 1960's to Obama swing state in 2008.

Got it.

I finally got my tattoo, courtesy of a former student. She did a fantastic job, in my opinion. Here it is in the aftermath, still a bit gooey and red.

Maroc.

In late April and early May, I fulfilled a longtime dream to visit Morocco. My parents met there in 1953-54 and through my father's old photos and my mom's colorful stories of "French Morocco" I gained an enthusiasm for its exotic appeal.

My friend John and I spent about 10 days traveling in the western portion of the country. In retrospect I wish we'd explored the mountains as they're great for trekking, but we opted to stay in cities to better appreciate the energy of daily life. We flew from Rome to Barcelona and landed first in Marrakech. Essaouira, Rabat and Tangier followed and each city definitely possessed distinctive character. The whole trip (about 10 days) was relatively inexpensive, and I suppose we each spent about €600, including all meals, lodging and travel. It's very inexpensive to eat in Morocco, with large meals costing the equivalent of about €5-10, but there's not a tremendous variety on the menus. Riads—tranquil respite from the chaos of the streets—are also pretty cheap, and for the most part we stayed in these converted houses with inner courtyards and gardens instead of hotels.

Marrakech was fascinating. It's a pretty smelly place—lots of piss-soaked streets—but the people were extremely warm and hospitable. We stayed at a nice Riad in the Medina, and it was very inexpensive and nicely furnished, with beautifully carved plaster ceilings in the room. The souks and Djemaa el Fna square were teeming with life and it was truly an amazing place to be from dusk until dark. The mounting energy is brought to a crescendo by drums and horns in the early evening and I can only compare it to waiting for a thunderstorm to begin. By the time the sun sets the whole square is absolutely electric, with music and smoke filling the sky and crowds of people sharing meals at huge steel tables spread across the enormous square. Acrobats, snake charmers, belly dancers, the works.

Someone's always pestering you to buy something and they're very eager to take you for a fool when it comes to bargaining, but if you have a sense of humor you'll really enjoy it. It DOES grind you down, however, and I'm glad we started—rather than ended—there. We got lost in the souks at night and that was a bit scary, as people were coming out of some pretty dark and smelly places to hound us for money or "guide" us to where we needed to go. Beauty in Marrakech is in details, rather than in the big picture. Colors and textures and the remarkable plaster carving in architectural moulding, etc. is really impressive. We spent an afternoon at the Bahia Palace—really nice. One evening, we took a great run along the outside of the old city walls, with the sun setting over the olive groves and thousands of swallows careening around us.

Essaouira was a nice switch—lots of whitewashed walls and some great views of the sea. Again, we were in a nice Riad in the Medina. The food was excellent in several places although there's not a lot of variety in most restaurants. The ubiquitous mint tea, tajines and couscous were the fare on almost every menu, along with some simple but unimpressive pizzas. Unfortunately, John got pretty sick with an intestinal infection here and had to get antibiotics from a local doctor, so he was out of commission much of the time. You have to be pretty careful what you eat or drink in these places, (including the coffee, a lukewarm cup of which is what may have dogged John). While John and I consumed almost exactly the same meals, I wasn't affected for some reason. We had a pleasant time watching a soccer game on the very windy beach among a group of local men, walking in the medina and exploring the ramparts which were used as the setting for Orson Welles' Othello. Despite the elegance of our riad the maze of streets around our building smelled a lot like raw sewage, and there was significant poverty right next door—places with no electricity or running water. Still, the people were very gentle and warm and I was impressed by how content they seemed despite their hardship.

Rabat was an elegant city and I was so happy to arrive there after so many years of romantic imagination. It's a much more European place with some of the most impressive Art Deco architecture I have seen—stylized in reductive ways by Islamic motifs. In my parents' day it must have been stunning, as it has exceptionally refined and consistent architecture, resulting in a truly unusual and very nicely laid out urban environment. The best part of Rabat for me was the kasbah, which has a gorgeous Andalusian garden and museum inside, along with some beautiful, cobalt blue dwellings. The museums in Morocco are underfunded, so they don't compare to the contrived grandeur of western Europe, but they're extremely inexpensive and worth a look. I liked Rabat a lot, both for sentimental reasons and as a fascinating city whose cross-cultural history is evidenced in its buildings, food and language.

Tangier was an immense disappointment, and I won't waste too much energy recounting the unpleasant encounters we had there, most of which were tied to our demoralizing stay in a riad run by fundamentalist whackos. It's an extremely dirty city with every other person offering us drugs through toothless grins and urine-steeped pants. We stayed two days there and while the scenery along the shore was visually pleasant, it smelled like shit with the runoff from sewers, which we could see cascading into the ocean as we explored the coast. Despite this cruddy ending, we had a fantastic trip—more educative than relaxing, but everything I expected and more. I have absolutely no regrets and returned home exhausted and still buzzing from the cacophony of a strange land.

Site Specific: Three Projects by Students from Rhode Island School of Design

On May 23, at an enormous castle outside of Rome, the Centro Internazionale per l'Arte Contemporanea hosted an exhibit of site-specific installations by RISD students.

Artist Bruna Esposito led a site-specific workshop resulting in three student-defined projects from the European Honors Program of Rhode Island School of Design. Each project is concerned with the rich historical, formal, and sensory context of Castello Colonna. Coordinated by CIAC Director Claudio Libero Pisano, as well as Ezio Genovesi and myself from RISD, the three projects respond in earnest to the environment of the castle—from Dorion Barill's animated migration of the chapel frescoes to the walls of another gallery; to Marlene Frontera and Grant Conboy's infusion of intimate domesticity in the grand setting of the castle and grounds; to another group's impulse to conjoin interior and exterior spaces, harnessing the energy of the light and wind outside toward delicate aesthetic expression in an upper gallery. The CIAC exhibition marks an important transition from the scholastic to the professional context for its participants.

It was a beautiful night, and the whole EHP family, as well as many visitors from Rome and environs, made the trip to Genazzano to celebrate the good work done by our students. What an opportunity for our students—working in such an inspiring setting, with an important contemporary artist. Many thanks to Bruna, Claudio and Ezio for their support.

Vernissage.

The opening for my show of paintings was quiet, low-key. The students made some wonderful food, and some local guests rounded out the evening. Afterwards, a couple of friends took me to dinner. I'm happy to have pulled it together with a couple of weeks to spare as this means I have some time to pull the canvases off the stretchers and pack them up for the trip home in July.

Resurfacing

I've received messages from people asking about updates. My apologies. I've been very busy lately with both travel and finishing up with teaching and work for my show. My journey in italy is coming to a close and I suppose I'm getting a little distracted.

In a future post I'll try to include some photographs from a recent trip to North Africa. My parents lived and met in Rabat, Morocco, in 1952-53. That, coupled with my longstanding, earnest desire to see a way of life quite distinct from my own, stimulated my thinking about a trip many years ago. I first made plans in 1984, but had to ditch them when I learned how expensive the trip would be. 

So I went to Marrakech, Essaouira, Rabat and Tangier for 10 days. While I encountered some bleak modes of existence, it was pretty much as I expected: extreme poverty in some places, countered by unparalleled beauty in details and some of the most pleasant people on earth, even when they were trying to talk you out of 1000 dirhams. It was more educative than relaxing, that's for sure, but I got a good tan from wandering outside everyday for hours on end.

Anyway, I finally made it there, with the linguistic help and warm companionship of my friend John.

Eight down. One to go.