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Archive for the ‘Opinion’ Category

Occupy Wall Street

I’ve been busy with little jobs and other distractions as of late and haven’t followed the news as closely as I normally do.  It’s been wonderful.   So I have only recently noticed, with passing glances, the growth of the Occupy Wall Street movement in the last several weeks.  At first, I thought it would be short-lived, a roman candle that burns bright but fades away quickly.  But as the weeks marched on, the movement seemed to grow and it became more than the typical type of protests that accompany financial summits such as the G8 or G20.  You know, a sort of protestapolooza with no real direction and no unified message that verged on pure anarchy.  This movement has taken on different face than those types of protests.

It has a core of anger that is not purely based on a far left agenda.  It is more centralized,  the result of an anger over the failure of oour politicians to listen to the real concerns of  all the people, instead adopting policies and positions that seem to favor the very wealthiest.   Anger borne out of seeing that the vote no longer can change much in the face of the lobbies with deep pockets.  The anger of the disenfranchised, people who don’t see a light at the end of any tunnels.

It’s a dilemma for many people to consider.   I mean, I have no problem with wealth and the corporate world.  I believe that every one should have the right and the opportunity to make as much money as he desires and is able to produce.  But when it comes at the exclusion and expense of the majority of the populace it becomes a problem that must be addressed.  So, while I may understand and have empathy for this movement, maybe it should be directed more at those in government who enable amd have become part and parcel of the corruption that these people are protesting.

  Everything points to a political system that doesn’t function on almost any level right now.  Something must change and the people deserve to have their voices heard.  I’m still unclear on the direction of this movement and where this will go or if it will eventually fade away.  But for now, it continues to grow and the anger builds, only pushed on by the actions and words of those in power.  For instance, the same politicos such as Eric Cantor, who praised the protests of the Tea Party as patriotic  rallies call these protesters “mobs”.   Amy Goodman has a great article that addresses how the powers that be seem to be protected by a police presence that has been bought.  It is an article that is both enlightnening and disturbing.

 The allegiance by politicians and government agencies, if Goodman’s words suggest in this particular instance,  to these corporate supporters is troubling.   If  her observations are true, this could get very ugly before this whole thing is over.

We shall see.

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Hypocrisy?

Only crime and the criminal, it is true, confront us with the perplexity of radical evil; but only the hypocrite is really rotten to the core.

—-Hannah Arendt

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One can’t watch the current political discussion, if that’s what it can be called, taking place in our nation without the word hypocrisy or hypocrite somehow emerging in the  mind.  I’m thinking of those elected officials who have worked for decades in government who now claim that government is, in fact, the problem and that they now have the solutions, even though their past performance shows no indication of any initiative to change anything.  What they were once for they now oppose.

 Each side sees it in the words of the other and those who favor neither political extreme wish only to hear words that are earnest and truthful, or at least truthful in a way that they themselves see as truth.  Unfortunately, truth seems to no longer be an absolute but has become a relative term, with degrees and shades, leaving those who seek some sort of answers to quell their fears and concerns to decipher a melange of facts, truths, half-truths and bald-faced lies.  A ball of confusion that yields nothing but frustration.

I certainly have no answers.  I’m as frustrated as the next person by this currently disjointed and ineffective dialogue and only want clarity.  A delineation of our common goals that we can strive for together, goals that bind us rather than pull us apart.  I don’t think there’s much room for hypocrisy in this effort.

Probably not making much sense or providing any clarity here myself.  Just a little early Sunday morning half-rant.  Hope your day is good.

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I’ve been thinking more about Eugene Von Bruenchenhein since writing about him yesterday, mainly about how he continued creating prolifically throughout his life, all the while keeping it pretty much to himself and his wife and perhaps a friend or two.  I try to compare his obsession with my own need to paint and I find they are quite different or at least appear to be.

I don’t think I could do what artists like Von Bruenchenhein and other private artists have done.  I don’t think I could maintain that intensity in the work if I thought it was only for myself.  I suppose these artists get their satisfaction in the actual creation of the work and  that, in itself, is their reward.  That makes sense but is different from what drives my own obsessive need to paint.

I think that the actual creation of the work is vital to me  but more important  is the communication that comes with each piece.  Knowing that the work is going to be seen and is going to be able to reach out to others is the driving point in what I do.  If I thought that the work would only be seen by myself I probably wouldn’t create it, wouldn’t feel the need.  The painting itself is an expression of something I hold inside already and wish to get across to others so, if I’m not going to show it to others, why do it

That being said, there is work that I do periodically for only myself.  I don’t do these pieces in the prolific manner of Von Bruenchenhein but those few I do are meant to stay with me and are painted only to be seen by me.  They are private expressions, different parts of my own personal prism that will remain hidden from sight.  Perhaps I do this because so much of my life is shown in relation to my work and feel the need to have something that is created only for my eyes.  That is different than the obsessive creators.  Maybe because their urge to create is so different than my own is why I find these possessed few so fascinating. 

 

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Another Labor Day

Just another Labor Day, the annual holiday here that marks the end of the summer.  Most of us don’t even think for a moment about what the name of this holiday anymore, don’t realize that this holiday was meant to honor the trade and labor unions that have been so demonized in recent years. I know that I’m aware of the history of this holiday and even I forget it most of the time.  And that is a shame because we all could use a reminder of how the working class of this country has truly built the great wealth of the nation.

I guess I’m a labor guy.  My first real job was in a grocery store, a Loblaw’s, and we were unionized.  My next two jobs were also unionized and for a couple of years I was  a Teamsters’ union steward for my department  when I was working in the A&P Food Processing Plant.  I learned a lot from that experience, things that shaped how I still view the world today, thirty years later. 

There were some good guys who were supervisors at the plant. Bosses.  Management.  I could  see how people would say there’s no need for all the labor regulations and the protections of unions when I worked for these select few.  They were fair and pragmatic in their approach to dealing with the workers and most of us worked harder than hell for these guys. 

 But many were not fair-minded and used their position of authority as a hammer to try to pound everyone under them as though they were nails.  They continually tried to circumvent every rule and regulation and were constantly at odds with their workers.  These guys were the face for me of why there was a need for labor unions in many places.  I can still see many of their faces so vividly in my memories of that time.  They were the first layer of management, the least trained and most ill-equipped, and they would do anything to meet the demands that the layer of management above that had placed on them, even if it meant abusing the rights of the workers under their supervision.

It’s not that they were bad guys.  They had goals set for them that had to be met and they were simply not very skilled at dealing with people, specifically their workers.  So they would try to bully and punish.  Probably in the same way that they had been dealt with most of their lives.  As a union steward, I could see that the behavior of these abusive bosses made the need for protecting the workers imperative even though there were other fair and just bosses out there.  There would always be some bad bosses, especially at the lowest and middle levels, and they were the ones who dealt primarily with the labor force.

We were built with our labor force and we have prospered most as a nation when the labor force shares equitably in the wealth being created.  On this labor day, we should remember that and be thankful for the sacrifices made by those workers and unions before us in creating protections against the bad bosses of this world.

 

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Ego

I was asked yesterday what I was going to speak about in today’s gallery talk at the West End Gallery.  I kidded that I was going , of course, to speak about me.

Me, me, me.

I went on to explain  how I approach these talks, trying to read the group in attendance and finding something of interest in the work that sparks a dialogue where they participate.  The hope being that they leave with a little more insight into the work  and I leave with with a little more knowledge of how they view it.   But that offhand joke yesterday about me has stuck in my craw.  Just joking about it has bothered me somehow. 

One of the conundrums of art is that you are expressing a sometimes very personal aspect of yourself in a public forum, exposing one’s weaknesses and flaws to the world for all to see.  The need to do this is the need for an affirmation of one’s own existence in this world.  I know that this has been the case for myself.  I have often felt insignificant throughout my life in this world, unseen and unheard.  But it seemed to me that my life, like all others, had to have meaning of some sort and that my feelings and thoughts mattered as much as any other being’s.  If I was here and thinking, I mattered.

Cogito ergo sum.

 Until I fell into painting I never found a way to affirm this existence, an avenue to allow my voice to be finally heard.  But having found a method of expression, the question becomes: What part does ego play in this?  Where is  that line that separates the need for self-expression from base self-glorification?

This has always bothered me.  Even though I want to express myself and want my work to hopefully affect others, this constant self-promotion puts one at least on or near this dividing line.  For me, that’s an uncomfortable position.  Don’t get me wrong.  When it comes to my work, I certainly have the confidence of ego.  It may be the only part of my world where I have supreme confidence and on many days even that is shaky.

But on days like today, when I have to talk about me, me, me, I always get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach both before and afterwards.  Before because of the dread of exposing myself as a fool and afterwards from the fear that I did just that. 

Oh, well.  All just part of the job…

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Memorial Day

Like a great many of you out there, I have not had to experience the hardships of war firsthand.  It remains a sight to see from a distance, on the television or in movies.  Terrifying and deadly but always from afar.  From this remote view it becomes an easy thing to simply shrug it off after a while and turn back to our own personal endeavors, thinking that the spectre of war won’t affect us and can remain a distant afterthought.

But it doesn’t take much  to realize how close war has been to each of us and our families for generations.  I know for me,while doing some genealogy,  I found war after war through the ages where relatives  served, some dying and some being wounded.  Young and not so young men who rallied to the call and paid some sort of price for their efforts.  My genealogy is unremarkable in that aspect as the same could certainly be said for almost all of  families.

There is a lot to hate about war.  The death, devastation and destruction is enough, let alone the financial costs that sap the economies of the world.  But while war is, and should remain, a thing to be despised, we owe a huge sense of gratitude for those who have served and paid the ultimate price to preserve the things and ideals we take for granted nearly every day, all the time  thinking that these things will remain in place without any need for protection. 

So today, remember the price paid, the lives cuts short.  Hate war, yes.  But give these soldiers who have shed their blood our gratitude and respect, as well as our empathy for the other lives they were never able to realize. 

 

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I’m sitting here wondering if the birthers will finally go away now that President Obama has given them what they claimed they sought.  I know I shouldn’t wonder such things because it’s obvious that this was never about a birth certificate, never about where the man was born.  If it was as simple as that, the question was answered long ago.  No, this is about intolerance, about a group of people being willing to accept any contrivance of a story that delegitimizes the man that they cannot accept as president because  of his differences from them.  Differences like his ideology and his intellect, where he definitely differs from them.  Differences like the Muslim roots of his name.  Like the color of his skin. 

Though this has been a dark blot of shame on our country, I am sure it will not end even now.  The hatred of these people knows no reason and will find a new lie to rally around.  New conspiracies raised by the winking shepherds of this willing flock.  And the media will sit by, unquestioning as it allows the lie to build.

Ah, it’s frustrating to see such unchecked hatred and idiocy. 

Here’s a song, Shoot Out the Lights, from Richard Thompson.  It was the title song from a highly acclaimed 1982 album from him and his then wife, Linda, that acted as a document of the end of their marriage.  I’ve always liked the imagery the title brings to mind, of someone shooting out the lights to mark the finality of something ending.  Let’s shoot out the lights on this birther business.

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A last word or two on the Maine mural controversy that I wrote of in  a couple of posts here.  I came across an interesting project from guerilla artists who went to the Maine state capital building and projected a large image of the mural on it,  re-installing the mural in effect.  Like the mural itself, it was symbolic, which is the purpose of art.  The anonymous statement for their project was simply put  but effective:

We put this video up to remind our peers that you have a voice, as soon as you choose to use it. If your government takes a symbol away and tries to hide history, you can make the truth resonate a thousand times stronger with your own 2 hands.

This is a lesson the labor unions taught us all, though some have chosen to forget it. We will remind you.

The maker of the art is unimportant. What matters is that you see it, and you have the freedom to speak about it.

I was also contacted by an AP reporter, Glenn Adams, who had somehow stumbled across this blog while researching an article on the widespread response across the nation to the mural controversy.  We talked for a while about why I had responded to the removal of the mural  and the symbolism to the whole thing.  He told me he planned on using a quote from  my blogpost as a sort of summing up.  The article came out yesterday afternoon and mentions the Detroit Institute of Arts’ Diego Rivera mural as well as an incident concerning Ralph Fasanella, who I have also mentioned here in the past.  One of Fasanella’s paintings had to do with a famous strike at one of the mills in Lawrence, Massachusetts in the early part of the 20th century and had hung for years in a hearing room of the U.S. House Subcommittee on Labor and Education.  It was removed in 1994 after the Republican’s took control of congress.  So this is certainly not the first time nor will it be the last time that politicians try to alter the symbology of our history.

Here’s the video of the Maine mural being projected:

 

 

 

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Hubris

When men are most sure and arrogant they are commonly most mistaken, giving views to passion without that proper deliberation which alone can secure them from the grossest absurdities. 

David Hume

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Confidence is a big element in what I do and probably in the careers of most folks, regardless of their field.  Nobody buys from a salesman who doesn’t express supreme confidence in his product, nobody attends the sermons of a minister who isn’t cure that his beliefs are absolute and nobody wants their financial adviser to tell them that he’s not sure if they will make money with his investments.  Likewise, nobody is drawn to paintings that are unsure of what they are trying to express.  I think that people feel enough uncertainty in their own lives that they find work that contains a surety of vision an appealing thing, something that speaks to what confidence they do maintain.

I know I am drawn to confidence and try to maintain a certain level of confidence in my work.  I am usually sure that a piece has a level of surety before it leaves my hands and goes out into the world, away from protective space of the studio.  But I generally go through several crises of confidence throughout the year , unsure that I am expressing fully what I desire or uncertain that a new path I may be following is the right one for that time.  This has been going on with me forever and it’s gotten to the point that I am expecting these times of self doubt and when I am working, especially on new work that hasn’t made its way to the public yet, and don’t feel this doubt, I begin to be suspicious of whatever I may be working on at the moment.  I’m always most suspicious of new work that excites me the most, uncertain if my reaction is real and related to the work or if it is merely a reaction to something new and different in the work, something that may be fleeting in its appeal.

It’s times like these that I wonder about those folks in other fields who seemingly never express self doubt, who maintain a shell of absolute belief.  Is it real or is it merely hubris, an arrogance born of a certainty that clouds the vision and the judgement?  When I think of all the problems in the world, this cocksure confidence, this absolute belief in ones own view of whatever is driving the issue, be it religion, politics, economics or race, is surely in the forefront of factors of causation.  I think of the Florida minister who burns the Quaran because he is so steadfastly sure that his religious vision is the one and only tolerable view.  Or politicians from either side who feel that there is no room for compromise, that their vision is the only way forward.   That their vision allows them to do whatever they might do to achieve it and that anyone who questions their viewpoint is against them and must be destroyed or removed in some manner. 

Their confidence turns to arrogance and these  people begin to  see only in black and white.  They can’t see the subtle shades of gray that are present in everything, can’t recognize the  absurdities, as Hume points out above, they have fostered.  There is only right or wrong, black or white. And even though we are a people who live for the most part  in a world of grays, they persist.  I don’t really understand it but I am just a person who lives daily with self doubts and eyes such absolute self-confidence suspiciously.  Unfortunately, these zealots of self belief will always be front and center in this world.  They rise, again and again.  And they fall, again and again, because their visions tended to be flawed or not inclusive of all the factors that they need to keep up the momentum of their efforts.  After all,  this is a world of shades of gray and not simply black and white.  There is seldom one right answer to any question.

Okay, enough thinking aloud for now.  I have my own work to question…

 

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Yesterday, I wrote about the mural controversy in Maine where the work depicting the history of labor was removed from a state building.  It made me think of other murals and immediately brought to mind the work of Diego Rivera,who I have written briefly about here before and who was arguably the greatest muralist of recent history.  Rivera’s work often focused on the struggle of the worker. 

The Mexican Rivera (1886-1957) was an ardent Marxist who saw the mural as a way to to make expressive art available to the masses, away from the confines of museums and galleries which he saw as elitist.  But it took money to commission his masterpieces so he was often working with those powerful forces that he often eyed with suspicion.    There were episodes where the two sides bumped heads, the most famous coming when his mural at Rockefeller Plaza in NYC was destroyed because of his inclusion of Lenin in the mural and his subsequent refusal to remove it.

The work he considered his finest was centered around the worker and the industry of America.  In 1932-33, Rivera painted , under the auspices of Henry Ford (who is depicted in the mural) and at the height of the Great Depression, an epic mural at the Detroit Institute of Arts.  Covering more than 447 square yards, Detroit Industry is massive.  It is filled with vibrant imagery depicting the worker, in both a heroic and subservient manner, as integral cogs in the rhythmic throb of the busy industrial world.  It is a feast for the eyes.

I have always been drawn to Rivera’s work on a gut level, drawn in by his gorgeous color and exciting composition.  When I see his grand murals I am deeply humbled and this work is no different.  I am pleased that it has survived the changing tides of political favor without somebody suggesting it be painted over.  If anything, it should remain if only as a reminder of the part the worker has played in building the wealth of this country at a time when the American worker is quickly overlooked by industry in favor of cheaper, unregulated labor on distant shores.

Here’s a video showing the scope of Rivera’s work.  As an artist, I am both inspired and intimidated by the sheer amount of amazing work here. 

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