Courtesy of the artist.

I have always loved drawing directly from my subject, particularly figures in movement, portraits, and dramatic landscapes. I like wild, dramatic places and watching athletes and dancers at the peak of their fitness. I work with mixed media using torn paper, acrylics, and oil pastels, but love working purely in oils too. I love the way dancers inhabit their space, the moment before the jump, the split second of flying through the air. I have been fortunate and privileged to work with the beautiful Russian dancers in St. Petersburg at the Vaganova Ballet Academy and Marinsky Theatre.

charlotteleadbeater.com

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Herod is dancing in Chambliss Giobbi’s Tanz für mich, Salome!, inspired by Richard Strauss’ very modern opera based on the Oscar Wilde play Salome. Giobbi loved the music but has turned the story around and made Herod the one dancing. This collage is filled with the image of an aging, overweight, almost naked man full of faults. He is incestuous, adulterous, and on his way to seduce his stepdaughter. For this image Giobbi used his own body as a model—a brave thing to do, since Herod is anything but handsome.

Herod is dancing. His expensive robe is open, showing most of his naked body. His head, arms, and legs all have multiple images, as Giobbi uses this “cubistic” method to capture movement. The two heads betray Herod’s indulgence with food and wine. In Wilde’s play Herod invites Salome to “Dip into it thy little red lips, that I may drain the cup” and, “bite but a little of this fruit, that I may have what is left” but Salome refuses. Herod still drinks the wine and eats everything else too. In Giobbi’s image we see the remains of red wine and food all over his face. He’s reached a point of drunkenness when reason is no longer bothering him. He touches his right head in a moment of recognition of his madness but he can’t stop dancing just now. Jewels cover his body. All of his fingers are richly ringed. One of his fingernails is badly bitten. He has worries. Metal necklaces surround his body like snakes.

Giobbi was a composer of classical music before he turned to visual arts. As he said, in music “time contains every move we make, everything exists in time, develops over time. I love the idea behind cubism. I love the brutality of it, the honest kind of brutality of it. These are like getting multiple moments of time; doing the direct opposite of (music), like compressing multiple moments in one cathartic image.” In the way that music is composed of single notes, Giobbi’s collages are created from thousands of little pieces. He takes portraits of his models, sometimes as many as 300 images, from different perspectives, enlarges them on the computer (but doesn’t modify them) prints them, and then cuts them into small pieces in order to create his compositions. He uses boards as a base and covers the finished work with a thin layer of beeswax to keep the pieces in place and so they will also “smell good.”

However fascinating his method is, Giobbi’s main focus is the character of his models, “I look for people with a free spirit and strong character; who stand for what they do with great conviction and passion.” This search often leads him to well-known personalities such as artists Joe Barnes and Alice O’Malley, filmmaker Fisher Stevens, performance artist Penny Arcade, or cult figures such as Indian Larry, the Chopper Shaman, or the transgender Amanda Lepore. Modeling for Giobbi is a commitment, since it takes about a year until he reaches the point that he knows them really well and feels that he can get into their skin, or more likely under their skin. That’s when he finally gets to the actual work. When there’s no secret left, he recreates the person in his work not as an idealized version but the “full truth.”

At first sight, you can see that Fisher Stevens is a nice guy, someone you would love to have a drink with. He seems to be a big dreamer whose head is in the clouds, surrounded by the artistic haze of cigarette smoke, while he tells sophisticated and funny stories about the characters he brings into life in his films. Stevens is an accomplished film persona with many movies to his credit including Short Circuit, Hackers, his documentary The Cove and his debut as the director of Stand Up Guys. When he talks about his work his favourite words are, “it was so much fun” or an “amazing experience.” Giobbi got him absolutely right: a nice, amazing, funny person.

Herod is not the only one who is dancing in Giobbi’s compositions. The photographer, Alice O’Malley chooses her models from New York’s club culture, and always strips them down in order to recreate them in blinding whiteness. Inspired by this method Giobbi stripped down O’Malley as she dances in the collages depicting her. There is a lot of stripping down and nakedness in Giobbi’s works. His images of the seven deadly sins (Se7n) are embodiments of unfortunate passions that are pregnant with many evils. They show the aesthetics of the morbid, its cruelty and its beauty. In the collage Pride transgender celebrity Amanda Lepore is dancing in front of a mirror. In their need for exposure Giobbi’s models become overexposed and sometimes too naked, making the viewers into voyeurs.

Herod is still dancing in his Dionysian haze. Does he really dance for Salome? I don’t think so. His dance is no longer filled with desire but becomes a bottomless pit of lust, a burning itch, more like a disease than a pleasure. It is greed that moves him, wanting more and more, never to be satisfied. This modern version of Herod is being consumed by his own needs. Giobbi’s characters are unmasked guests at the masquerade of our times, and his Herod, this overfed, oversexed antihero, leads this mad cavalcade.

By Emese Krunák-Hajagos

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Image courtesy of the artist.

These bullet paintings take on a visceral approach to the politics of violence, focusing on the dynamics of infliction and trauma, as well as depicting traces and spaces, a mental place where empathy translates into healing.

My “ballistic” medium grew from personal traumas, experienced, converging with collective history. My work embraces influences from different cultures taking on an investigative approach to place and time, in relation to a sense of self. My works have used more than 30,000 spent shotgun and brass bullets of different calibers – wondering if any among those I have used has taken a life.

josephineturalba.com

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Leah Oates: How did you become an artist and what is your family background?
Julie Peppito: When I was in the second grade I drew a picture of a turkey and it won first prize in a statewide elementary school competition in Oklahoma. My mom put me in art classes. In my free time I would draw, sculpt and make jewelry at our dining room table or at a desk in my room. When I was older I became a thrift store and junk shop fanatic. That is when I began to notice the beauty in things others discarded.

LO: What are the ideas in your work and what is your working process?
JP: I wonder why I am drawn to some things and not others. What makes some things valuable and other things trash, or on their way to becoming trash? Sometimes I feel like my purpose is to rescue them. I want to make them have meaning for more time than they are in fashion. I have a love/hate relationship with fashion and consumerism. I have the “I want everything” disease of our culture. I desperately want to buy things, and then I feel incredibly guilty because I know the harm that materialism causes the planet and people. My work is a manifestation of this conflict. It is also a manifestation of my need to connect with others and the world, while at the same time desiring escape and disconnection.

My process begins with collecting. I used to collect only funky Americana statues and nostalgic “collectable-ish” things. Then the lines got fuzzier. Now they are really fuzzy. I collect things that most people would consider trash, along side more notably valuable stuff. Then I mash, bind, and merge them together with wire, clay, cords, fabric, and thread. I paint and draw patterns and images on it. If it is a work on paper there is more imagery. This imagery is narrative, expressing the ideas of connection, disconnection, and value mentioned previously.

LO: Your work uses found materials, drawing and collage and is a unique blend of the whimsical, fantastic, and scary. Please elaborate on how you came to work this way and what this mix represents thematically.
JP: On found materials, collage, whimsical, and fantastical:
When I was very young I used to play in the roots of trees. My dad helped me make little boats out of walnut shells, toothpicks, and paper, and I would pour water in between the elaborate root systems and sail the boats. My dad was an Eagle Scout from Brooklyn turned engineer who had a strong belief in do-it-yourself everything. I was also born in Tulsa, Oklahoma in 1970, at a time when people still made things instead of instantly buying them. It was a place where craft was held in much higher esteem than art (although I hadn’t realized this until I went to Cooper Union for my BFA and learned that what I thought was art was actually considered craft in the NYC fine art world.)

I learned very young that almost anything could be repurposed to make another thing. That led to my thrift/junk obsession. (That obsession was also influenced by my lower middle class budget; plus it was the 80’s and it had recently become fashionable to thrift. Remember “Sixteen Candles”? I was 14 when it came out.)

On Drawing:
I have always loved to draw, and because I was good at it I was always encouraged to do it. I have observed that everyone, regardless of class or culture, can appreciate a good drawing. For a long time I had stopped doing it in rebellion to that realization. Now I draw as an appreciation of that observation, and for my love of the connection to the moment that I feel when I do it.

On Scary:
My mom was a stay-at-home mom from Long island who later got her MSW and became a therapist. She was a feminist baby boomer who took me to march on the capital OKC for the ERA when I was 10 (I think). She had always infused me with a sense of justice even though growing up I was more concerned with boys, fashion, and making things over anything else. After I moved to NYC to go to art school in 1988, I gradually began to learn things about our country and the world that I had never known before. I learned more when I started listening to Democracy Now! on WBAI and reading Howard Zinn’s People’s History of The United States of America. The culmination of all of that was a deep anger for being lied to by the media, history books, and politicians. I believe the “scary” in my work usually comes from this.

What this mix represents thematically:
We are complex creatures. We have all of this amazingly detailed, gross and beautiful stuff on the outsides of our bodies: skin, hair, eyes, pores, butts, appendages, etc… Then there is all of that equally detailed, gross and beautiful stuff on the insides of us. As if that wasn’t enough, there is all of that other stuff that goes on in our brains and our hearts. When you put it all together there is a complete being and each one has a poignant and unique story. I’ve always had an inner drive to make art that is just as complete.

Julie Peppito
Snoopy Homeboy Cake, 2009.
Wood, Found Objects, Epoxy Clay, Aqua Resin, Gouache, Acrylic, Pen, Pencil, Thread.
Variable Dimensions 8 x 10 x 4 in. Image courtesy of the artist

LO: Why do you think art is important to people and what does art do exactly for the world?
JP: I have struggled with this question a lot in my life. I have often felt that being a visual artist is looked upon as selfish and unhelpful. The results are not usually quantifiable like they are with a doctor, lawyer, scientist, teacher, or social worker. I have always had a strong sense of justice and a desire to help and be selfless. What I have realized is that it does help. Art connects us. We spend much of our lives trying not to feel or being cut off from our feelings by the monotony of daily tasks or the horribleness and scary parts of our lives and world events. Art is like love. It makes us feel and it makes it okay to feel. Feeling makes life worth living. So, to pull it all together, art helps make life worth living.

LO: What advice would you give an artist who has just arrived in NYC and who is not sure where to begin?
JP: Network. Show up. Or don’t, and just make art. Or leave, and just make art. Before anything though, come to terms with why you have come here to make art. If you are going to stay and want to make a career out of it realize that you will spend a large amount of your time working a job to support your art while simultaneously running a separate online and in-person networking and PR business. This is all unless you are already well connected and independently wealthy.

There are some contradictions in this amazing city. This is where the critical mass of like-minded people are, but you rarely have time to meet with them (especially if you have procreated). If you do, you can’t make art that takes time to make. There is also a critical mass of people who appreciate art, but it is difficult to figure out where the ones are that will appreciate your particular brand of “making life worth living art” and have the time and money to appreciate it in a way that will sustain you so that you can focus on making their life (and yours!) worth living.

LO: Who are you favorite artists and why?
JP: So many!  I like art that insists I look at it for more than a minute. For me this usually means it is well crafted and detailed with visual power. The essential component is that it helps me see the world in a new way. To put it another way, it must make me fall in love with it. When I am making a piece of art I know it is working if I fall in love with it. I want other artists’ work to inspire the same feeling in me. (See previous question “Why do you think art is important and what does art do for the world?)

My list: Niki De Saint Phalle, Mark Ryden, Joyce Scott, Robert Rauschenberg, Sigmar Polke, Vermeer, MC Escher, Swoon, Murakami, Amy Cutler, Gideon Kendall, Paul Klee, Alexander Calder, Dr. Suess, Ernst Haeckel, Banksy, Kim Holleman, Anton Gaudi, Friedensreich Hundertwasser, Norman Rockwell and so many more. Genres: folk, medieval, Baroque, and Renaissance sculpture, painting and jewelry, 19th and early 20th century botanical and animal illustration and decorative objects such as Faberge eggs.

LO: What are your upcoming projects?
JP: For my third show at Heskin Contemporary in the fall of 2013, I am taking personalized commissions. My multi-media collages and sculptures, which incorporate objects from the sitter’s everyday life, are not traditional portraits. This series of work is from my “Connected Portrait Project.” In keeping with my philosophy, each piece explores our complex and varied relationships with objects. Why do we do cherish some items and easily discard others?

To create the portraits, I require ten small objects and/or images. These should be a selection of both commonplace items and items of sentimental value. Three titles of the sitter’s favorite pieces from my website (www.juliepeppito.com) to help inform me about the sitters tastes. And five words from the sitter’s imagination.

I have a longstanding interest in environmental issues and will donate ten percent of the proceeds from the “Connected Portraits Project” to Hurricane Sandy and climate change relief efforts.

If you are interested in participating in the project, please contact me (juliepeppito@gmail.com) for further details and pricing.

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John Stezaker, Mask, 2009. Collage, 10 x 8 in. Image courtesy of Petzel Gallery.

John Stezaker graces Petzel Gallery for the third time, presenting his latest exhibit—John Stezaker: Nude and Landscape. Stezaker, a native of the United Kingdom, uses the photographic image as a platform to challenge our understanding and the limitations of the photographic medium. Subtly combining a variety of vintage images Stezaker elegantly creates a space that evokes nostalgia, while simultaneously subverting notions of the past through the splicing of the images. The theories of philosophers and critics, such as Walter Benjamin, have further galvanized our understanding of Stezaker’s body of work, launching the artist’s reputation and practice to the forefront of the mixed media milieu.

May 8 – June 13, 2013
Opening reception: Friday, May 10th, from 6:00 – 8:00 PM
Petzel Gallery
456 W 18th Street New York NY 10011

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Leah Oates: How did you become an artist and did you know early on that you would be in the arts or did you begin as something else?  Where there other artists in your family?
William Crump: Growing up I always knew that I wanted be an artist. I went to school for painting. My uncle, Walter Crump, is an amazing artist living and working in Boston. He was more or less my example for leading the artists’ life. If it weren’t for him, I don’t know that I would have had the same outlook as I do today. That same thing can be said about the friends and artists I surround myself with. It took me a long time to find my way in NY, but once I did, I realized I wasn’t alone. After I received my B.F.A. I went to Boston thinking I would continue on with a Master’s, but I was so poor and miserable I seriously considered doing something else. It was during this time I had begun to visit NY, where a few friends were living and making work. I quickly realized there was nothing for me in Boston, and so I moved to Williamsburg in 1998. It was there that I met a couple of friends that I’m still close to today. We’ve clawed our way up as artists ever since. I would say I’ve been “all in” since day one, despite the many rejections, epic failures, and burned bridges along the way. I keep working. There is nothing that can prepare you when you are young for just how hard it is and how committed you have to be from the start.

LO: What are the themes of your work and what inspires your work?
WC: The images I’ve presented here represent something of a new direction for me. My work and my themes began evolving over the last year. I’ve made a commitment to liberate ideas about painting from my sketchbook. I don’t feel like I could have made the work I am making now without having spent time working with other mediums. All of it has led me to this point. More than anything else, my goal with painting is to start fresh and to look at this next decade as wide open. The starting point here, with the work I’m currently making, is to rebuild things. By that I mean using all that I’ve done before as the foundation for building off of new ideas, making something new from what has come before.

This series of paintings, drawings, and mixed media works, titled; Gathering Ground mines themes of spiritual rebirth, reconstruction, and longing. In reexamining my work and reasons for becoming an artist, I began with the idea of literal reconstruction of materials, and the suggested reconstruction of nature and the human spirit.

As far as inspiration, I had a moment while viewing Monet’s Cathedral paintings, at the Musée d’Orsay over the summer. Those few paintings, grouped together, under glass, clicked with me in a way that I didn’t expect. It wasn’t just that they were beautiful, but they reminded me of what a radical shift that time period was in art history, and how artists can define themselves by breaking away from what’s going on around them.

I try to keep a critical eye on what is going on around me, and whether or not it’s a passing phase or someone breaking new ground by pushing things forward. It’s still early in this decade, and the century for that matter. We’ll see where things go and who is taking the risks. In that regard, I’m always influenced and inspired by my artist friends and the exchange of ideas that we share in critique. There is a motivation that comes from having an honest dialogue with other artists who I respect, and that keeps me pushing myself to make better work.

LO: What is your working process? Do you plan things out or play in the studio?
WC: At this moment I’m doing all I can to keep things as unplanned as possible. That is not to say that I don’t work off of ideas in my sketchbook, I do. It’s just that the execution of my current work allows for play and experimentation. The work I’ve made previously has been planned down to the last detail. It’s only been in the last year that I’ve been open to letting the process guide me. I have a long way to go, but I’m happy with this approach. If anything it’s sped up my thought process, and opened up new possibilities in my studio. The biggest change in the way I’ve been working has been in my drawings. I’ve begun to draw from pure mark making. No planning. It’s been challenging to keep these pieces purely spontaneous and undefined. I’ve wanted to move as far away from a figure or a narrative as possible with this series. Each time I sit down to begin one of these drawings I have to remember to ignore all my impulses regarding defining space, composition, line, color, etc. A friend recently mentioned that I’m finally moving towards abstraction … Not sure about that, but I’m certainly moving away from everything else.

William Crump, Untitled no.3 (Spirit)
collage on paper, 16″ x 20″, 2012

LO: Each artist is so different in how they approach their work. How do you approach the creation of your work?
WC: The first thing I do when approaching these paintings, is to try and leave all distraction outside of the studio. It’s about keeping my focus and discipline. There are times when I want to dive in head first, but that can lead to not seeing your work with a critical eye. I spend a lot of time arranging and rearranging the materials I work with until something new happens. Experimenting with new materials has been key for me lately. Cut glass or wrapped linen. The older I get, the more time I spend with my work, I realize I’m not as interested in what the viewer thinks. I remember reading about Albert Oehlen wanting to be taken seriously as the decade changed and his work shifted. That struck a chord with me. If anything is brought into the studio with me it’s just that, “Take your work seriously, think about the long road.” This approach has been more rewarding and has led to a broader exploration in my practice. I just keep trying to push myself, and my ideas into a new place.

LO: Why do you think art is important for the world and why is it important for you as an individual artist?
WC: That is an extremely broad question and could be answered a million ways. I’m sure that artists in any part of the world would relate their answers to their own experiences. I feel that having the drive and the will to be an artist is something I was born with. It has been the force that has given me purpose and direction. It’s either just in you, or it isn’t. I won’t try say that I have a definitive answer as to why art is important to the world. I suppose in some sense, it’s about giving perspective to the times we live in. We look at the artists of the 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s through some great historical lens, but that time wasn’t very long ago. I only hope artists right now will think about the decade they are in, and how they will be remembered. Are you part of something important? Are you really doing something groundbreaking or original? You had better get busy. This goes not only for the work being made around us, but also for the words and actions the artists too. It’s about shifting ideas in our culture and being in the forefront of influence and social change. I think the artists, when we are at our best, our most playful, our most ironic or spiritual, truthful, bitter, etc., are reshaping the times we live in while also knocking down walls. The next generation can then build on those new ideas and move things forward.

LO: Has being a dad changed your work if at all?
WC: It has, but I don’t talk about that anymore. I’m keeping my personal life is just that, personal.

LO: What advice would you give other artists who are emerging?
WC: I did it all wrong from the beginning, so what can I say? I mentioned some things related to this in the previous question, but if I know anything at all it’s this: Stay hungry. Just don’t ever stop working, no matter how successful you do or don’t become. Time is your best friend.

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