DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

Samuel van der Swaagh

EoW II

Dr. Nicola Blake

April 2, 2013

 

Painting the Art Studio

 

            This observation is on a remote studio in the Brooklyn Army Terminal at 58th St, and 1st Ave, which used to function as a shipping and porting dock for WWI soldiers and supplies. This paper records the fieldwork conducted on both March 15, at 4:00-4:45 P.M., and March 29, at 10:30-11:15 A.M. of Dorothy Robinson’s, a painter, studio. During the first 45-minute session, my initial objective was to sketch and orient myself to the workspace. In the second visit, I performed a non-participant observation of Dorothy navigating the studio. The collapsed nature of this ethnography combines the fieldwork notes from both observations. It is important to note that due to the informal structure of my observation method, I did not strictly perform mapping in one session and observation in the other. As one will notice, there exist overlap between observing and outlining the studio in the fieldwork notes. I first observed Robinson’s studio on an overcast windy afternoon when the Army Terminal appeared retired for the day. As I approached the old military complex buildings, which have been converted into multiple private workspaces, I was struck by the early twentieth century industrial architecture. In order to begin the observation, I first convened with Dorothy by an old dysfunctional railway. Dorothy’s studio is located in a building adjacent to the railway that has a classical exterior design and a warehouse interior.

 

Map #1

 

            After stepping off the elevator onto the third floor where Dorothy’s studio space is situated, I could not help noticing a slight buzz in my ears. I instantly remember that Dorothy informed me to be mindful of my speaking voice. The whole third floor consists of large warehouse like rooms that are segmented into smaller studio spaces by white high rising curtains. The particular room that Dorothy painted in consists of at least 12 of these curtained cubicles (refer map #1 above). Despite the artist’s close proximity to one another, it was evident that solitude mostly defined the culture of the studio space. The only observed common spaces of the studio room were the narrow walkaways and a sparse common area. The thick canvas curtains and the fluorescent lights casted a dank mood. Also, light streaming in from the windows seemed to offer comfort from the relative inner darker spaces of the room, esp. in the common area where one could sit by tiny tables. Though the dividing structures and lighting of the place produced a general stuffy atmosphere, further observation proved that the studio was animated with lively paintings, sculptures, and designs.

 

            While touring the studio room, I had the opportunity to glance into several artist spaces. As I was walking through the middle path of the room, I scanned the progress and finished work of absent artists. During the late afternoon, it appeared that most of the active artists were in the peripherals of the collaborative studio. At one instance I stopped to pear into an artist’s workspace to see an abstract gothic sculpture that created a mess on the ground. In another moment I become fascinated with a graph-like painting posted on a curtain door. Also, there appeared to be quite a few sketches and designs hung on artists’ curtained borders. An interesting observation of this practice of displaying artwork was that it seemed to promote artistic collaboration and discourse in environment that discouraged socializing. Hanging artwork on one’s “wall” stimulated dialogue outside the studio. For example, Dorothy, a new comer to the studio, started a conversation with an artist by using posted artwork as a prompt for outside discussion. This unique system of communication demonstrates the values of networking and independence within the studio.

 

Map #2

 

            The organization and structure of Dorothy’s rented section of the room provided insight into how she both interacted with her art space and paintings. The furniture and props within Dorothy’s own studio consisted of a wooden warehouse table, and a few stands holding brushes, paint, gloves, and other materials (refer to map #2 above). Dorothy’s walls were lined with intriguing abstract “memory landscapes,” and ink paintings on rice canvases. Perhaps the most compelling trait of this humble studio was the curation of her space. Behind and on her desk Dorothy exhibited lush and gay dream like landscapes that she wished were sold. On the left corner opposite to the wooden table and adjacent to the curtain entrance, Dorothy hung pieces that were still being conceptually processed. In addition, on the wall directly opposite from the desk, Dorothy showcased her most prized paintings, which were mostly surreal sketch like ink paintings. Lastly, Dorothy stored unfinished, work in progress, pieces near the farthest wall from her studio’s exit. In fact, I observed my informant treat the far side of the studio more as an area for prep work and intensive painting. More specifically, I noticed that Dorothy usually performed canvas priming and large scale painting activity in the back end of her space, while only light sketching projects on her desk.

 

            As I became more curious in how Dorothy navigated her painting studio, I had the pleasure to observe the painter during her Friday morning routine. The first habit that seemed to be natural for Dorothy was to play music. The instant Dorothy seated herself, the artist slid ear phones over her head. The act of drowning outside distractions with music seemed odd given that the building was completely quiet. Perhaps the pop music raises Dorothy’s spirits, or offers inspiration. Whatever the effect of listening to music was, Dorothy immediately became absorbed by her painting. I watch intently from a distance as Dorothy attacked her rice canvas with a brush or pen. Dorothy’s rapid and sweeping motions appeared to be creating an intricate map. Dorothy communicated to me that her passionate gestures allowed her to relive past moments, except with a pen in hand. Finally, either because the music lost its effect or that she was stirred by the awkward silence, Dorothy removed her ear phones and said to me “You know, you can talk to me.” I decided to switch my method from non-participation to participation observation by taking a more fluid approach of interviewing and observing Dorothy. The content of this informal interview will be recorded in a latter ethnography.

 

            After completing an ink painting, which resembled an abstract bird’s eye view of a valley, Dorothy placed her sketching brushes aside and began a new project. Dorothy walked to her paints stand and exclaimed “Crap, I forget to get more gloves.” While expressing some annoyance, the artist communicated to me that she would have to postpone certain aspects of a project. This inconvenience, however, only slightly delayed Dorothy’s progress on other work. Dorothy changed her goal for that morning by preparing another canvas and cleaning off her paint dish. She then tentatively slabs five thick stripes onto the canvas. The resulting composition resembled the color scheme of a fauvist painting. Also, while bending over her painting, Dorothy periodically used a similar color schemed painting as a reference for certain colors. The paintings that Dorothy utilized in this comparison process consisted of striking hues of orange, purple, red, and blue that had a radiant quality of reflecting off a viewer’s face. Despite the monotonous routine of Dorothy’s painting technique, I can understand the appeal of working in a quiet secluded environment.

 

            For Dorothy at least, painting demands a tolerance and love for solitude. For about 30 minutes I observed Dorothy musing over her paintings. Dorothy’s silent approach to painting defined her time at the studio to the extent that I always became startled by her impulse to scratch her paintings. Occasionally, after extensive periods of staring, pacing, and sighing, the sounds of the AC and distant construction work would be abruptly interrupted by a jarring screech. The most unsettling aspect of Dorothy’s system of retouching her paintings was her habit to suddenly spring at her paintings. Perhaps I describe Dorothy’s method of revising a painting in over dramatic terms. Nonetheless, Dorothy’s actions were highly emphasized by the silence of the studio.

 

            Although Dorothy never became lost in her painting, which is anti-stereotypical of artists, there were instances in which I was compelled to hold my peace from talking to Dorothy. I followed my instinct in judging the proper moments to verbally interact with my informant. During times of extremely focused painting, Dorothy maintained an engaging and friendly spirit toward my questions or comments. The non-rushed nature of Dorothy’s work elicited occasional informal conversations. Even the act of washing semi toxic paint from her hands was not a rushed process. Probably the most decisive activity that I observed during the second session was, as referred to earlier, retouching incomplete paintings. Revising about a 4 square inch sector of a painting consumed approximately 20 minutes. Thus, one can imagine the hours and energy that Dorothy invests into her studio time aside from her work as a graphic web/poster designer. Nothing has the quality of anxiety or expediency. Dorothy seemed to use her studio time as way to release her day’s angst through paint and images.

 

            As a young artist, who eventually wants to have a personal studio and to teach sculpture at a post-secondary school, Dorothy has enlarged my perspective of what it means to work in an art studio. My observations indicate to me that I will probably have to rent out a cheap space before I can afford my own private studio. Also, I have learned that there exists, though fluid, a system of communication within a collaborative studio room. And as an artist, I must be acceptant to the fact that working in a studio will require long hours of silent work. I believe working alone in quiet spaces will not bother me because I love working in solitude. In fact, the creative juices flow best when I remove myself from outside sources of distraction. However, one must still be mindful to maintain a balance. After all, interacting with the world is what fuels the creative mind.

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.