Pack it in, pack it out

Packing work after my recent saleArtists use stuff to make other stuff and then when people buy the stuff they make, they use more stuff to pack it.

It's a pedestrian view, but remove the esoterics and art is another product to be packed and shipped. Of course if that's all it was, you could go to Bed, Bath & Beyond and get yourself some. Or Target.

I like to imagine that the experience of opening up a carefully wrapped package and unwrapping an original painting, something you saw and responded to for reasons you don't necessarily care to explain, is gratifying in a different way than receiving those Haflinger wool slippers you bought on Amazon or that Motorola headset you scored on eBay; that there's something about buying original art, this unique thing whose sole function is to hang on the wall or sit on a pedestal and be looked at, that separates it from something made to be used as a tool or garment or toy, no matter how beautifully designed.

It comes back to my thoughts about the uselessness of art. Its uselessness is precisely its value.

I'm curious: Is it different? Perhaps they're equally satisfying experiences.

I enjoy packing the work I've made and sending it on to its new owner, especially when I witnessed their initial response to it right here in my studio. It's another reason I love selling my work directly.

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Art is useless

HEIGHTEN

About

In a project that gradually unfolded from January - May 2012, I collaged the interior walls of Seattle's University Heights Center in order to take art out of the gallery, off the canvas, and into a public space.

The collage responded to everything in its path with sprays, swirls, lines and bursts of handpainted squares and rectangles of paper, each individually applied to the walls.

The idea was to highlight the intrinsic elements of the historic building, from wood paneling and old photographs to vending machines and fire extinguishers.

I involved my private art students in the early stages of the work and blogged my progress, including responses from passersby of all ages.

Artist statement

While we may recognize a space as historic, spacious and pleasant, we tend to ignore or accept as givens the mundane and more modern details such as vending machines, water fountains, trash cans, signs and fire extinguishers.

Heighten celebrates the historic aura of Seattle's University Heights building in its entirety including every ordinary detail, inviting viewers to notice and appreciate their surroundings in a new way.

The cut paper shapes unify disparate elements by calling attention to them and tying them together as organic parts of a whole aesthetic environment. The idea is to treat the building itself as art rather than simply hanging art in it, and to engage viewers with visual surprises at every turn.