2020: Are We Done Yet?

I won’t be the first nor the last to describe this year — 2020 — as one of the crappiest on record, at least in my lifetime so far. The drawing above pretty much sums up my feelings. Between the Corona virus, the reaction to racial reckoning in this country, the mad man in the White House (soon to be out the door, thankfully), the almost-coup, and overall environmental, social, and economic despair, I really don’t know what has been left out of this basket of terribleness.

As an artist, I’m wondering what my role will —and should be— in 2021. My work is not overtly political (other than the occasional drawing) but maybe that will change. Or, maybe I let my drawings do the political work (organizing, motivating, sharing information) and my paintings and collages can do what they do in capturing surreal, contemporary moments. I’m not the first nor the last to ask this question - what is the role of art in a (struggling and raw) democracy? I’m hoping 2021 will hold some answers. In the meantime, I’m taking particular inspiration from artists Marcel Dzama and Deborah Roberts whose Instagram posts are daily reminders of the power of art AND the power of the people.

Birds' Eye

Birds-eye-view, aerial, and panoramic views…why do I love it so? I’m working on a picture of Montpelier, VT, currently my hometown, and in doing so, I’m seeing what the wide world of Google has to offer me for references. So much overhead view! Is landscape a character? If attachment to a landscape supersedes other things like job opportunities, cost of living, diversity, are you crazy to remain attached? I find myself in that boat, tied up to a particular harbor. In my case, the boat is a canoe, and the harbor is a green bank on a Vermont lake. It’s frightening, committing to a place. My limitless view of the world (”I could go ANYWHERE…except maybe Afghanistan”) has tightened, the aperture dialed down, and gone is a periphery. Through my pinhole view, I gaze at the details. All of this is by choice - or is it? Is there a thread that keeps us tethered to a place, because the landscape matches up with our own shape? Like a giant hand moving puzzle pieces, slotting me in to this one little open space. 

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Bird's eye vintage view, Montpelier, Vermont