Posts Tagged ‘maximalism’

In the studio: March 10, 2009 – New abstract painting

Tuesday, March 10th, 2009

I’m not really into the term “abstract painting,” but since I really don’t know how to describe my art, then I have to settle with terms that the rest of the world uses. Abstract painting can mean anything to anyone. It’s almost a useless term.

That said, here’s a new abstract painting in the works. It’s called Acid Battleship Amylase, measures 60 inches square, and—thanks to a yummy fluoro yellow-chartreuse base—glows under blacklight.

The new abstract painting Acid Battleship Amylase

The new abstract painting Acid Battleship Amylase

But wait! There’s more! Below is the original sketch for this new abstract painting. I think the blue paint I’ve chosen is a little off. I prefer the 0F72B1 that I see below.

The sketch for the new abstract painting Acid Battleship Amylase

The sketch for the new abstract painting Acid Battleship Amylase

I haven’t ditched my maximalist style of painting. I may not feel like painting this way all of the time, because my mind changes and I go through phases. But when I do paint maximally, I’m out to produce the most radical structuring of shape and color possible, in my own way.

Some of my readers have suggested that they’re more interested in my maximalist style, compared with my minimalist style. I understand this … but there has to be room for both styles of new abstract painting in my creative life. I hope that makes sense. I haven’t lost anything … or given up on anything. If anything, I’m gaining; I’m working; I’m learning as I go.

Beyond that, I can’t stop listening to Ceephax Acid Crew, aka Andy Jenkinson. Check out the free downloads on his site. Be warned: The tunes are infectious.

—Grant Wiggins

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

New maximalist paintings

Sunday, August 31st, 2008

While I haven’t posted much on this blog lately, I’ve been painting practically every day. Here’s a new batch of work.

As you can see, I’ve wholeheartedly returned to my maximalist style. At top is Where Is Gibarian? Below that is Ifx Xypilekk.

Paper art work to show in upcoming Tempe Center for the Arts biennial

Wednesday, July 30th, 2008

I am pleased and proud to announce that my recent paper construction, Ekeliges Zeug! (pronounced ek-el-EE-ges ZOIG), will be among the works of 26 Arizona artists on display in TCA Biennial: Paper this autumn at the Tempe Center for the Arts (TCA).

TCA Biennial: Paper opens Saturday, September 6 in the main gallery of the Tempe Center for the Arts. The show will run through January 10, 2009.

The opening night of TCA Biennial: Paper falls on the one-year anniversary of the opening of the TCA. As a matter of tradition, paper is given as a gift to celebrate first anniversaries. Consequently, the city of Tempe built the show around works on paper, art made of paper, and art inspired by paper.

Eighty-five Arizona artists applied to the show. Judges were impressed by the “high level of craftsmanship and innovativeness” found in works submitted, according to the museum.

TCA Biennial: Paper will be my fourth biennial exhibition in Arizona. Others include the 2003, 2005 and 2007 editions of the Arizona Biennial, held at the Tucson Museum of Art.

Taking a break from minimalism, again

Monday, May 19th, 2008

Over the past few months I’ve put focused almost exclusively on producing minimalist paintings. And now I think it’s time to explore the opposite end of the compositional spectrum: what I call “maximalist” paintings. (It’s not my term, but it’s what I call that part of my work.)

abstract compositions
One of my favorite maximalist abstract compositions, Ultraam Aeterrix, from 2005. More like this in my flickr gallery.

To be honest, I think I’ve hit a wall with minimalism…for now. But I will come back to it at some point in the near future, I am sure. This isn’t the first time I’ve gone back and forth between minimalism and maximalism in the recent past.

I feel the way I do for two reasons:

One, the minimalist designs I’ve produced recently aren’t blowing my mind. For me, minimalism is a sensibility, a way of thinking, a way of making. The process of designing minimal compositions is very rewarding, in itself. But I’ve found that the end product doesn’t quite reach the intensity I originally sought.

Two, maximal abstract compositions are a blast to make, because they are often generated through improvisation. They afford seemingly infinite room for combinations of colors, lines and shapes, which excite the eye and fatigue the retina. Sources of inspiration are limitless. And to top it off I can give them perfectly strange names, like I Got Distracted by the Grass and Still Life with Inverted Florida Maritime and Diamonds.

I look forward to giving shape to the mental pictures I am currently carrying in everyday life. I see bizarre combinations of patterns, fluorescent colors and blown-apart logos. I see horizons of twisted significances and a color wheel that is spinning out of control!

I look forward to showing you the progress of this exploration quite soon.

 

Innovation means failure is inevitable

One of the things that has motivated me to paint was the idea that I was innovating: pushing new territory. That’s what got me going when I started 14 years ago. I wanted to make stuff that had never been seen before. I wanted people to experience work that was completely unhinged from reality. It was nonrepresentational and nonsensical.

When I paint a minimal painting, I get caught up in things like surface and lines. Minimalist painting is a purely visual experience. There is nothing to “read” on the painting.

It’s difficult, however, for me to try to innovate with minimalist painting. I have the horrible feeling that it’s already been done. No matter what I paint, it reminds me of something else. This may or may not be true in reality, but it feels that way.

With maximalism, anything goes. I can try to make things that I know for certain have never been seen before. I may triumph, I may roll the canvas up and hide it. The potential to innovate is there, however, and that’s what attracts me to it. Failure is part of the process.

Well that’s my story for the moment. Thanks for reading.

Until next time,
Grant Wiggins

A change of course, of course

Tuesday, September 25th, 2007

Over the summer, I returned to minimalist painting yet again. My interest in pared-down compositions was rekindled unexpectedly, out of the blue. Starting in mid-June, I was focused solely on making pared-down compositions, letting line and color work on their own terms. I was transfixed by the idea of doing more with less.

Somehow, however, the novelty of minimalism started to wear off about three weeks ago. Inexplicably, I found myself getting bored with the pared down and spare — the simple stuff. No matter what adjustments I made, I wasn’t happy with the results. A few stripes here and there weren’t doing anything for me. I felt like I was trying to divine something that wasn’t there. I got bored.

So I started making patterns again. And it only took about two months to reach that point.

And so, a few days ago, I decided that minimalism isn’t where I want to go with my art, after all, at least for now. I therefore feel compelled to recant what I wrote back in June, when I swore off maximal art. The funky, fresh, and fun stuff — swatches of my homespun 70s wallpaper patterns, fragments of logos and garbled nonsense, the work I produced this spring — is where all the fun is at.

I’ve veered from minimalism and maximalism several times over the past four years. I wonder if changing my mind like this is healthy — a sign of growth — or a sign that I’ve lost my voice. Hopefully it’s the former.

Years ago, I banged out weird ideas for paintings with seeming ease. They just popped into my head and I made them happen. My ideas don’t happen that way anymore. My process is different; I sketch out elements in pieces and jam them together. To me, that way of working offers many more possibilities for surprise and strangeness.

My plan for now, and for the future, is just to make things that I enjoy and lose myself in the creative process — the act of making. I just want to sit down at the desk (or easel), put on the headphones, and mess around, not really caring about the outcome or thinking so much. Just focusing on process, not product. I hope to post the results of this newly chartered course soon.

Grant Wiggins

Minimalism vs. maximalism

Saturday, June 23rd, 2007

Had kind of an epiphany yesterday. More like a realization. Whatever it was, I see myself, and my work, in the middle of a change. What I learned: my minimalist art works (reductive compositions) and acid pop paintings (busier pieces) do not mix well. Of course, I’ve intuited this many times before. This time, however, the realization really hit home.

My friend Tatyana Koziupa spinning some records Wednesday night at Plaid, in Tempe. A few paintings in the background. Showing these pieces together, I felt like something was off. Perhaps this foretold a swing back to minimalism.

This new insight came to me yesterday when I was putting together some marketing kits, for galleries — just trying to get my work out there. With some prints within the kit, I placed minimalist and abstract acid pieces on the same pages. The result? They battled each other. But the shocker was that the minimalist work had more gravity or pull. It seemed much more interesting to me.

Over the past four years, my thinking has gone back and forth between minimalism and maximalism (the acid stuff) — two poles on the compositional spectrum.

Theoretically speaking, minimalism makes much more sense to me. And there’s the simple fact that there isn’t enough minimalist painting going on, in general, in my opinion. (I truly admire the work of Stephane Dafflon. Frederick Hammersley is a legend. And I really like Jim Isermann and Sarah Morris, too. Jo Baer and Jeremy Moon are other favorites.)

For quite some time, I thought I had to choose between styles. Sometimes, my internal debate was pretty frustrating, almost creatively paralyzing. The moment I embarked upon a minimalist approach, I started getting ideas for the other approach. Yet, last summer, it dawned on me that I didn’t have to make choices. I would just keep painting — doing what I wanted to, having fun, no categorization, no rules — the way it was when I started out, making parodies of cleaning products, like a next-generation version of the earliest work of Andy Warhol.

Nevertheless, this “no rules” approach causes some problems when I’m trying to explain what I do in a paragraph or less. The dichotomy seems like a schizophrenic lack of focus.

Perhaps continuing to paint acid pop pieces is just a sign that I haven’t wanted to let my “old style” go.

Since late January, I’ve been experimenting, trying to push the acid pieces forward. In the process, I’ve neglected the minimalist side of my work. Given what I learned yesterday (the conclusion of this blog post starts here), I’ve determined to refocus on minimalist and design-oriented pieces for the next few months. I will reevaluate where it’s all going at the end of the year. Meantime, if I jump back into the busier compositions, it’s just purely for fun, as an experiment, just jamming some ideas out, mashing patterns and stripes together.

Therefore, expect to see a concentration on more streamlined, simplified compositions from me in the near future.

As always, thank you for reading.

Grant Wiggins

Raw Power

Sunday, June 10th, 2007

Below and to the left is a photo of my newest painting, titled Death Trip, produced Friday through Sunday. Measures 20 x 16 inches and is, as always, acrylic on canvas. The backstory can be found on my previous post.

To the right is a sketch of Raw Power, intended as a follow-up piece … using the Maersk logo as a point of inspiration and ultimately the result of listening to the Iggy & The Stooges album of the same name for five days straight. Raw Power will be the next painting I’ll be working on.

Death Trip   Raw Power sketch

Thanks for paying a visit!

Grant Wiggins

Death Trip

Wednesday, June 6th, 2007

My friend who is a wonderful photographer wrote to me today: “I keep seeing Maersk trucks around — love the star and the blue color and thought you might find inspiration in it as I do.”

Yes, I love the Maersk logo and have been inspired by it. It is a mighty fine thing to see on trucks and trains as one drives along.

And so my friend’s email triggered some crazy design experimentation this evening, the fruits of which you see here.

I just cranked up “Death Trip” from Raw Power, by Iggy & The Stooges. At 6 minutes and 07 seconds, it’s one of the most repetitive songs ever — and I played it over and over and over and over and over again, all 6 minutes and 07 seconds of it, until I finished this composition.

Must stop listening to Raw Power. Three days and counting. It’s changing how I think.

Grant Wiggins