Archive for September, 2008

New minimalist art work, based on ‘long-lost’ minimalist design

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

After going on an early rampage into my new series of paintings inspired by randomness, I hit a creative wall last Friday afternoon. Instead of finishing a maximalist painting (titled Retroactive Psychology)—I was adding a plaid pattern to the top third of it—I felt utterly compelled to paint a minimalist design I conjured up in July 2007, but shelved.

Rather than slog through what I was working on, I abruptly resolved to stop what I was doing and switch things up. So, Saturday morning, I started the painting you see below, which I finished this morning. My thinking was this: If I’m not enjoying making something, it will show.

Above: Cirrex (tentative title), based on a minimalist design I created more than
a year ago, proving how ideas and inspiration can resurface later on.

This new minimalist art work is 30 inches square and acrylic on canvas, as is everything I paint. However, I do not yet know what I am going to call it. Names batted around include Cirrex, Corpex, Xorpec, Xorpekt—but nothing really sticks. Cirrex is the leading candidate, though.

The question from here: What to work on next? I feel more inspired to paint another minimalist design from summer ’07 than I do the random series painting. Does it matter?

I’m already behind in the timetable I outlined for my random series, although I know I’ll come back to it. Also, there’s a lot of work to do in my backyard garden—building raised planting beds, etc. Growing things is becoming more interesting to me. There is no reason to stress about things.

Wishing you happiness and the causes of happiness,

—Grant Wiggins

Random art: A new series of paintings inspired by randomness

Sunday, September 21st, 2008

Afterword on October 2, 2008: I’ve since put this project on hold, simply because I have a few other commitments. One of them is implementing a redesign of this site. While I was very excited by the time component of this project at the outset, I quickly realized it just wasn’t realistic. I will return to this project in time.

This weekend I have embarked upon a ridiculous art experiment, in an effort to unlock new approaches to making work and force my mind to try new compositional methods.

The experiment relies on the wisdom of randomness as a foundation for producing a series of 15 paintings, based on the materials I have on hand. My goal is to paint these pieces by the end of the year.

At left, the paint cups before the “beer pong paint lottery.” At right, a ball lands in the cup.

In this experiment, I used randomness 1.) to determine the size of the canvases I will paint and 2.) to select paint color combinations for each painting.

Painting sizes were determined using the Random Integer Generator at random.org. This random number generating tool selected the length of stretcher bars, from 8 to 26 inches.

The process of determining each painting’s color combinations was slightly more complicated and chaotic. It was a lot like beer pong. I got together 70 cups of “leftover” paint (an ounce here, two ounces there) from paintings I’ve already made—it’s a bit like recycling. I arranged these cups onto my painting table, from which I bounced a ping-pong ball. When the ball landed in a cup, that paint would be set aside and put into a group number. In sequential order (Group 1, Group 2, etc.) five paint colors were assigned to each painting.

Once canvas sizes and paint combinations were determined, I held a “draft” to assign paintings with color combination groups. I then held yet another draft to establish the sequence of production.

The experiment has led to some predictably unexpected results:

My first painting is 18 inches high by 19 inches wide, and will include navy, light blue, yellow, fluorescent orange, and fluorescent red-orange.

The seventh painting, as another example, will be 22 inches high by eight inches wide, and will have turquoise, light blue, pine green, light green, and purple as a basis.

The paint groups
The 14 paint groups. The 15th paint group is a “wildcard,” to be used in the fourth painting in this series.

Why I have gone down this path? People who know me well that I’ve long enjoyed adding randomness into the creative process. I see randomness as a way of challenging the mind to try new things. Contestants on TV shows such as Project Runway and Design Star, for example, have no idea what project will be thrown their way next. When you’re invited to create an installation in a gallery or museum, a room’s dimensions is pretty much a set of random variables.

I have found that I am more prolific when I have more parameters around my work, which randomness provides. Dealing with random variables in the creative process is also a way of testing one’s wits. Plus, randomness can be a lot of fun, as it leads to unexpected results.

Random Art Series: The Official Table

Painting # Size Paint Group Projected due date
1 18 in. x 19 in. 8 Sep 25
2 21 in. x 14 in. 3 Sep 30
3 12 in. x 16 in. 2 Oct 7
4 13 in. x 8 in. Wildcard Oct 12
5 20 in. x 11 in. 5 Oct 18
6 17 in. x 20 in. 7 Oct 24
7 22 in. x 8 in. 10 Oct 31
8 21 in. x 25 in. 11 Nov 9
9 19 in. x 8 in. 13 Nov 16
10 17 in. x 26 in. 12 Nov 23
11 22 in. x 19 in. 1 Nov 30
12 23 in. x 11 in. 9 Dec 8
13 25 in. x 8 in. 4 Dec 15
14 18 in. x 21 in. 14 Dec 22
15 9 in. x 26 in. 6 Dec 31

On that note, I am heading back to the easel. Thank you for reading. Check back in the near future to gauge my progress … and keep my honest with my plans.

Wishing you happiness and the causes of happiness,
—Grant

A self-interview … of sorts

Thursday, September 18th, 2008

A couple of weeks back, I was contacted by year 12 student (equivalent to senior in high school in the U.S.) from Australia named Sarah. For an art class project, she was assigned to “do write-ups on artists,” as she puts it. Surfing around, she found my site, was interested in my hard-edge paintings, and wanted to ask a few questions via email. (Her paintings, by the way, are pretty impressive.)

Since I don’t really have occasion to give interviews, I thought I’d offer my responses here, in case you’re interested. I really like the interview format. It can afford a wonderful way to crystalize ideas and figure out one’s self. In the process, I feel like I learned something, or at least I learned a new way of articulating what’s in my mind right now. So here goes:

Q. Why did you begin painting? I just wanted to. It was back in 1992 – 93 and I was really inspired by corporate logos. (Still am.) I had a couple of ideas in my mind, so painting them out just seemed like the thing to do. My mom was an artist (at one point she designed greeting cards for American Greetings), so I had access to the right materials. (I used to “borrow” her art supplies when she wasn’t around. I just stayed up late painting in the basement. The next morning, I definitely heard about it!)

But I’m a self-taught artist. My technique was really quite poor for a long time. I just kept at it, though. Technically, I’m still not great. I’m more motivated to get ideas out, rather than obsess over surfaces. After all, perfection is just an idea. We never attain it, no matter how hard we try. Creation is a process.


A progression: At left, Scramp King, the first painting I painted, in 1994. At right, my most recent maximalist art work.

Q. Why hard edge? My interest in hard-edge painting stems from Jo Baer and Frederick Hammersley. I first came across Baer’s work in the catalog for the SITE Santa Fe Biennial of 2001, curated by Dave Hickey, a critic I really admire. Hammersley was in that show, too, but I didn’t really get the “point” of his work until I saw it in Santa Fe a couple of years ago, at Charlotte Jackson Fine Art. Seeing Hammersley’s work left a lasting impact on me. His work justified, for lack of a better term, my “switch” to painting with a more minimalist style. Plus, he was a pioneer of hard-edge painting, back in 1959. I call my minimal work hard-edge because the edges are clean, but I also believe in carrying on that tradition, even though the term “hard-edge painting” meant something totally different back then.

Mind you, hard edge is one half of my work. The other half is what I call “maximalist.” It’s a descendant of my early “acid pop” work (from 1993 onward). I think it’s really what I’m all about.

I started to explore minimalist painting in 2003, just before I saw that SITE Santa Fe catalogue. I was losing interest in painting in a neo-pop art style, which was my original direction. When the Iraq war started, I started to feel really uncomfortable with irony—spoofing corporate logos. That was a 90′s thing, anyway. I decided I wanted to make something beautiful instead.

So, for about five years, until earlier this year, I couldn’t make up my mind about whether I was to be a minimalist (giving up on my earlier work) or a maximalist (continuing the “acid pop” line of thought). It was a difficult five years. I realized it’s okay to go back and forth between the two styles; they form a complete whole. I thought I had to choose between the two, but that’s not the case.

Q. Who are your major influences? Beyond Baer and Hammersley, I’d say Warhol was my first big influence. He had a Dadaist sensibility, and I was really into Dadaist poetry when I was in school. I loved the way he deflated mass media. For a long time, it was Warhol, Warhol and more Warhol.

Otherwise, artists I really admire include Eduardo Paolozzi (his work is amazing!), Bridget Riley, Julian Stanczak, Stephane Dafflon and early Sarah Morris. And Oliver Hibert, a great artist friend of mine. We’ve been going against the grain, out here in middle-of-nowhere Arizona, for years.

Ultimately, I’m not really inspired by other painters. And I don’t really pay much attention to the “art world,” which seems to be more and more about all of things that art isn’t about. I get more inspiration from semi trucks, vintage wallpaper and fabrics, football (soccer) jerseys, corporate logos and fashion. I just kind of jam all of those influences together in my maximalist work.

How do you make your paintings? I do everything on the computer first. My work isn’t really conducive to improvisation. So I spend a lot of time “versioning things out” on screen first. Sometimes I’ll design something and it will sit there for months, even years, before I go back to it. Also, I mix my colors to printouts. I want to know exactly what I’m going to do before I jump into making a painting.

Wishing you happiness and the causes of happiness,
—Grant Wiggins

Upcoming show: ‘Painting’ at Foundry Art Centre

Monday, September 15th, 2008

Just found out that a couple of my paintings have been selected to show at the Foundry Art Centre in St. Charles, Mo. next month, in a juried exhibition called Painting.

Painting will be on display from Friday, Oct. 10 through Nov. 21. The show is billed as “a juried exhibition celebrating the art of painting,” where “traditional or experimental styles” are welcome. When I saw the word “experimental” in the call for entries, I knew I had to throw something Foundry’s way. Everything I make is an experiment!

The two paintings I’ll be showing are: The Acid Rain Falls Mainly on the Acid Plain (2007, acrylic on canvas, 20 x 16 in.) and Where Is Gibarian? (2008, acrylic on canvas, 21 x 16 in.). Here they are, freshly framed, in my studio this evening.

The Acid Rain Falls Mainly on the Acid Plain and Where Is Gibarian?

Want to know the story behind Where Is Gibarian? As I was painting this piece, I was listening to an audiobook of Stanislaw Lem’s Solaris, a truly mindblowing work of science fiction. (And the Tarkovsky movie is fantastic, too!) When narrator Kris Kelvin enters the space ship Solaris, he’s hoping to meet with a crewmember on board named Gibarian. When Snow, another crewmember, won’t give a straight answer about Gibarian’s whereabouts, Kelvin repeats, “Where’s Gibarian?” Turns out that Gibarian is dead. And the planet they’re orbiting can control the ship’s measurement tools, produce wicked storms and create hallucinated humans. But are they real? You get the idea.

On that note, I wish you happiness and the causes of happiness,

—Grant Wiggins