I titled it "Spending Time"

Today I read a conversation between artists David Horvitz and Alexandar Provan wherein the topics of time and space - as delineated by modern society - are challenged or re-explored so as to perhaps find oneself unconfined by the ideas.  After all, we can mostly all agree that time and spacial organization are tools that we've devised to organize ourselves and do not actually exist apart from our mutual understanding and agreement.  There was a time (haha) when we knew approximately what time it was simply by the appearance of a star on the horizon line or by a cast shadow.  In that era, intuition and the reflexive "body clock" were still of great relevance compared to modern life - wherein we stay up all night working because the deadline is tomorrow and we need global synchronicity (ie: working simultaneously with partners in Japan) to stay ahead (of?).  Yikes!  Always trying to get ahead.  The "keeping up with the Jones" theory morphs into global competition.  What a huge drag!  How completely exhausting!
This Victorian era "clock" designed to tell time based on the moments in the day when flowers bloom should give a lift after that depressing thought:

Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus proposed use of this time keeping device in Philosophia Botanica (1751)

All that to bring up what I thought as I was reading about the irrelevance or pliability of time and space - two things: 1. I've recently learned the technique of transcendental meditation which seems to exist in a space of no time and 2. I titled my first cross stitch double portrait of myself and husband "Spending Time" - more on that....

The experience of transcendental meditation has been somewhat miraculous to me in that I haven't ever felt the way I feel while practicing this meditation.  All other types of meditation have left me feeling frustrated and wondering if "it's working" or if I'm really doing anything to help my most basic anxieties.  This technique seems to do as it's named, transcend.  I actually don't experience time (even though my thoughts are going on and on just as "normal"). Instead, there's this inexplicable experience of all and none, here and nowhere, now and forever.  I have a short, set amount of time that I'm shooting for to spend meditating and it's important that I don't meditate all day, but the precision of time just doesn't matter.  It's the activity that takes precedence and must be repeated twice daily along the rise and fall of my typical human energy levels and moods.

The more personal realization of how I work on my artwork as a timeless technique came to mind as well.  I'm currently working on the 2nd (of what may be a series of) cross stitch double portraits of myself and my husband.  There are almost 41,000 stitches equaling the number of pixels in the 10" x 16" photograph I am reproducing.  When I did the first one, titled "Spending Time," I approached it much like the honoring meditations of my repetitive artworks before it.  Spend a lot of time working on it through a repeated action, practice precision and contemplate the work as it slowly evolves however sometimes frustrating or other times freeing.  To me, this idea correlated with my understanding of myself in a long-term (marriage) relationship.  However sometimes freeing or other times frustrating, it's all time, spending time, it's an accumulation of everything all intermingled together into one big jumble of "us."  And then, there's the "no time."  I'm reminded of the buddhist "no mind." There's also the "no us" and the "no me."  The slowness of making my art also flies in the face of contemporary art making practices which run along the same rat race (art market) as the rest of our capitalism based self making.  I realize that I am just NOT cut out for that race.  So, as long as there is "no time" and  I'm "spending time" I'll be taking care of the otherworld, perhaps the neitherworld (like Horvitz captures) of the Art world.

Working on my self.

Art and practice.

Speaking of books, another book I have been reading is Buddha mind in contemporary Art, a collection of essays and interviews regarding the relationship of Buddhism to art making and artworks.  There are so many valuable and inspiring commentaries by artists, critics, curators, and just art "people "in this book that it is difficult to choose one idea to share here.  I picked up the book because of a curator I liked - a few of his writings I'd read just rang true to me.  I've  always been interested in Buddhism, so this book has proven inspiring to me as it addresses, from various points of view, the  remarkable similarity between mindfulness practice and art making.

When I was in college, I studied printmaking and fiber arts as I was magnetically pulled toward those  repetitive disciplines.   Much like my love for running as exercise, hiking, and other sustained, contemplative activities, I was unaware of how my art-making resembled mindfulness practice and pointed to my essential desire to create space in my own mind and cultivate the mental state of flow.

 Upon introduction to meditation technique, I realized my art making was so similar. I also realized my art making could provide context and  inspiration for mindfulness as the end result is a product that continues to exist beyond my own contemplative practice. So I started to make  art, however sophomorically, that pointed toward these ideas I was learning in a novice Buddhist study.  I still love many of those well intentioned works.

In my recent years of having stepped away from the art community, I find (through reading, art making and learning new art 'languages' such as piano and Spanish),  that my mindfulness practice is stronger and more important to me than ever.  As a student, I was not fully aware of the potential for mindfulness practice in my art making, but over time I see there is always an unfolding realization of this essential aspect of my work.   Perhaps the only purpose of art making for me is to cultivate and present the possibility for mindful living.

Current progress in my time of slow contemplation of my marriage, the "spending time" that is "us" and that unequivocally builds my awareness for our growth (with all it's rises and pitfalls) as partners.

November happened.... I swear.

It's hard to believe, but the month of November actually happened.

It's December 1st.  I've been thinking for a few days about writing a post during the month of November (Somehow, keeping the blog current, ie: at least one post per month, seems like the "right" thing to do, but really, whatever.  Is anyone reading?  Doesn't matter.), but then, I just didn't.  I've been feeling worn out and low-down lately for a number of reasons.

Peru and Me, communing in the 1st Chakra
 garden on my last day at Willka T'ika.

I returned from Peru October 31 and hit the ground running.  Peru was fantastic.  I think I belong there.  The people are incredible, the countryside of the Sacred Valley along the Urubamba river is beautiful and rejuvinating, and the centuries old style of artesanias hit the nail on the head (for me).  I may catalog my acquisitions from the trip on this blog's next post....

Anyway, when I returned, I had this great homecoming with Christian, enjoyed the beauty and cleanliness of my home, partied late into the night with some new friends, celebrated my birthday(!!!!) ...and then, Trump was elected president.

...this seems to be the general consensus
in my neighborhood.

Wow.  Not a hoax.  For real.  I know many of my peers are deflated and feeling disoriented and wondering what the hell is going to happen now.  The month of November has been clouded over by this potentially devastating reality.  Or, we have no idea what may come of this change.  Perhaps the USA will not go down in flames.  (That's my little hopeful voice.)

mural beginnings after measuring
& chalking lines for 2 days

On the first day after that reality struck, I spent my day painting a mural on my friends, Russ and Shannon's Salon.  The exterior wall facing the alley was in pretty bad shape, so we decided, before I left for Peru, that I would paint the mural when I returned from my trip.  It was good to be outside and doing physical labor - I called it Art Labor and Heart Therapy - after the election result shock.  So I spent the next 3 days measuring and prepping to paint.  We visited our friend in Portland for a long weekend.  That was awesome because I love him and I love our other friends that we got to see there - so a little pick-me-up.  Then I worked for 3 more long days on the mural, trying to get it done before the temps of mid Nov. start to plummet.  So hard on my body!  So beautiful a result though...

The golden goodness of simple patterns, textile style on Russ Salon, 3221 East Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80206.  I am super proud of this great, big achievement.  ...I'm also grateful for friends who trust that art and beauty matter!

Anyway, all this to say, I didn't really get to process the trip to Peru.  So much psychological and emotional shifting took place because of traveling by myself to such an awesome place, and I had some really important things to process, and I still feel like I'm hanging out in liminal space with all of it still unsettled (Run! Run-on sentence!).  Feeling unsettled always makes me feel depressed.  The cold weather of November's second half has been rough.  Thank goodness for Thanksgiving!  I needed that fun, fun time with tight friends and totally delicious, incredible, artful food.  All along, I've also been in the midst of work for our friend Caroline's new restaurant.  Christian did the architecture and we worked together on the interior finishes, much of which will be handled by my very own hands.  I'm into that.  That also means I'm missing working on my own artwork.  The cross stitch sits untouched for about 2 months now.  I find it hard to get back on that wagon - it feels like the feeling of starting a new project, like having to take the leap again.

So, if you're out there, reading this, and it occurs to you to think of me, send me some loving encouragement vibes.  I'm working really hard, but I'm not feeling the flow or just feeling good, and the lack of specificity around that issue feeds into some weird, self destructive internal thinking.
I need what the Peruvians call, Munay - "love and will."

Just makes sense to end with an image of this precious sheep, Obobo who lived where I last stayed in Peru.  He was such a comfort and a delight to me when I was alone and wasn't feeling well.  Just thinking of him makes me feel a little better.

out of the studio

Whenever I remember that I have a blog and I haven't written anything to contribute to it for a while...  I try to remember why I keep the blog.  The first thought that comes to mind is for the purpose of processing my art practice.  In keeping this blog, I've wanted to have a forum for thinking through the work of making art, sharing and exploring whatever inspires my art-making and showing work in progress.

Lately, my art practice has been only a few hours (if that) each day because it is late Spring and my garden's going nuts and there are berries on trees and bushes all over Denver that I need to pick for making tarts and jam, and the weather is perfect for bike rides....

Agnes Martin used to advise that young artists keep with the intuitive need to be out of the studio at times.  My friend Alvin Gregorio also keeps with the idea that studio practice is not always in the studio and the art practice sometimes needs development via other exposures and creative work. There are certainly creative practices that happen all throughout my life!  The garden is proof of that, and so is this Saskatoon berry tart:

cross-stitching-again-again-again-again-again-again-again

spending time
again
with thread and needle
with my face
and yours
spending time
again
and again

resisting the restlessness
exploring ordinary
time
with my self
and you
and the thread
and the needle
and the tiny
moments
and the meditation on
each pixel
a stitch
another stitch

yours
and mine

and everything in between
the fabric

print making

Making prints, as in, print-making was one mode of art-making that hooked me when in college.  Maybe it was my personable, inspiring and empowering professor, Jack.  Perhaps it was the satisfying repeatability of the images - if anyone takes a look at my website or elsewhere in this blog, it is obvious that I will repeat an action, a process, or an image/symbol for a very long time (I am also a long distance runner and can make gnocchi or tamales for hours).  While printing with Mark Lunning at the Art Students League of Denver for the past few months, it has also become apparent to me that this art media is offering me an immediacy that is helpful in keeping up momentum with my art working.

Let me elaborate on this issue of momentum.  For about 3 - 5 years, I've been making epic projects.  I will diligently work on the same project for 5 - 12 months.  The vision, drawings, technical planning, acquisition of materials and summoning courage to really begin may take 2 - 3 months.  Then the various phases of repetition (mind you, this isn't tedium to me and I'm not bored) - whether it be dying fabric, sometimes dying it again, and again, measuring and cutting fabric and measuring, sewing, measuring, sewing, sewing, measuring, seam ripping, sewing, seam ripping, measuring, cutting, sewing, measuring, and so on and so on (oh I forgot all the pressing and the organizing and referring back to the drawing from months ago).  There's even more to this and then more steps for finishing.  I am more or less describing the piecework that I do (I don't actually quilt - see definition), but the epic process is very similar for my cross-stitch projects and other media that I've worked with over time.  And here's what I'll say about momentum:  At about 2/3 of the way into the process, I usually come up against this big feeling of non-productivity because I don't yet have the product of so much labor.  I think this is an American psychological hang-up - being productive means rolling out and showing off a lot of products, and having news about what you're doing because there's "always something new!"  About 3 years ago I got really clear with myself and decided to turn against the contemporary American way with my art-making.  I don't actually care to be prolifically productive with my artwork (what will I DO with all of that work anyway? I also get grossed out by the art-market and choose not to participate, so I really don't need a lot of "inventory").  I prefer an art making experience that is more like the culinary movement, slow-food.  ...but even slow food has an amuse bouche carefully added in along the way to refresh the palette and liven up the pace.

Lesson learned:  Commit to the long haul, and find ways to keep up the creative motivation along the way.

over a year

Canopy inspiration

Over a year since posting to this blog and I'm thinking it would be overwhelming to update everything that has happened since the last post.  Really, what I think is more important is the impetus to simply begin again now.


My most consistent work for the past 10 months has been the design, fabric dye, cutting and sewing of Canopy, the next quilt.  Images to follow.  Coincidentally, the last post on this blog before now, was "quilt, quilt, quilt, quilt, quilt, quilt, quilt" where I was talking about, now titled, Bridge, the quilt inspired by Anni Albers' work and by the work of psychotherapy and dreams that I had begun to focus on at the time. This too is a work related to psychotherapy, dreamwork and active imagination - inner contemplation or diaglogue with the symbols of my life.  The canopy of trees that I reference is the forest canopy in my childhood patch of forest next to our house where I would play with my sister for hours during warm seasons.  Lying on the forest floor, smelling the humus of the leaf decomposing soil, and seeing the sunlight filter through the leaves - this is a wholehearted memory self as Self.  That memory was reinforced by love, love of another childhood place that seemed to love me and later a place for falling in love with my now husband, Christian.   Christian and I would lay on the forest floor and talk for as much time as we could steal away while working at the outdoor summer camp, Camp Hanover, in Virginia.  That place, the forest there, memories before and after knowing Christian were rich with life and self as Self for me.   When imagining a place that holds great potential for healing and self knowing, I think of the forest floor, protected and created by the beautiful forest canopy.  Perhaps this quilt already begs a sister - the imagery of the rich and aromatic forest floor.

Canopy sketch for quilt, Jan. - Feb. 2015

The work of Canopy, designing and creating has proven to be what I expected in a way - "I want this to be a part of an ongoing practice.  I don't want to get hung up on the idea of this work being an 'opus,' as the pressure to do so often keeps me from trying new things and keeps me from relaxing into the process of creative work."  This has, thankfully, been the case for this project.  I feel less attached to my vision/plan as the unexpected differences come up, and I am willing to take it as it comes - I think more so than usual.  The unexpected:  how the dyes act with the fiber and what colors emerge despite what colors were planned.  I wasn't expecting the swirling, flowy look of tie-dye, but...  there it is.  I expected a minty green; I got an aqua blue.  Thus, I stand on the fence of "fix it" and "accept it."

My fingers, my sewing machine, my quilt

"Fix it" or "accept it." That's probably a good metaphor for my life and my work as of the last year too.  Through 2013, I'd say it was my normal mode to "always fix it."  The urge to make everything better (better, in my opinion) was practically irresistible to me and I might push myself beyond my energies and boundaries to make it so.  Everything - my projects, our projects, even your projects!  I realize this sounds very self critical, but even if I didn't actually do the fixing, there was this inner voice that said, "but I want it to be better.  I want it to be mine."  So in learning acceptance, as in "accept it," I am hearing that voice saying "fix it," and I am responding, "is it necessary?"  It's been a shift in thinking and living that gives me great relief.  I believe my artwork will benefit most from my willingness to see the long game of the artist's practice as critical to my creative development.  Perhaps that opus that the younger me desired so fervently is simply further down the road, and releasing myself from the pressure to produce it enables the creative work to get rich with time and decomposition and cycles and repetition and ....you know - all that stuff that keeps a person alive.

Direct Connect Denver

Direct Connect Denver's "What If..." as seen at one of 3 venues, GroundSwell Gallery.

Late summer of 2013, Don Fodness and Sabin Aell approached me and my partner (at GroundSwell Gallery), Danette Montoya about putting together a project for artists in Denver.  The basic goal was to create a project for as many artists as we could manage to collaborate with other artists internationaly.  Almost right away, we four felt the awesome energy of people who work well together.  Not only did we begin to organize and define this project, "What if..." but we also began to organize and define ourselves as Direct Connect Denver (DCD).
The purpose of our new group began to unfold as this:  to create opportunities for ourselves and other artists in Denver and to connect directly with artists, galleries, and general culture in other cities and/or countries through our art work.  The realization we've all made was that most of the events defining success in our careers have been connections, relationships, and experiences with other people in our field.  Read about DCD and "What if..." in Westword and at Colorado Public Radio's website where Danette was interviewed about the project. 

Direct Connect Denver is now our four person team devoted to creating one project per year for  artists to engage with other artists/galleries/communities nationally and internationally.  Our first project, "What If..." just opened on March 14th in Denver, CO, USA and March 15 in Berlin, Germany with over 100 participating artists.

The framework of the project was this:  Sabin Aell catalyzed the relationship with Neurotitan Gallery in Berlin to do a collaborative art swap with artists in Denver.  Each team, DCD in Denver and Neurotitan in Berlin, enlisted 53 artists/art-groups to participate in the project.  Each artist/art-group was asked to pose a "what if...?" question and then was paired randomly with another artist/art-group in the opposite city.  The "what if..." questions were swapped and having receive the question, each artist/art-group had to begin an art work in response to that question.

 I was one of those artists and the question that I posed was, "What if I finally took off my East-Coast-Conservative-Protestant baggage and got naked?"  My partner was Xueh Magrini and her question to me was, "What if all is just an illusion?"  Xu's artwork, as seen on her website, was delightful to see because, being randomly paired, her work fit right into my hope for this project: to let loose! 

If you know my work, you know that I'm not prone to work loosely with pastels and I tend to draw very formally, so you can see what of this collaborative work was made by Xu (though elaborated upon by me) and you can see where my style works in.  I felt that this artwork was an invitation to keep working on artwork for myself (as I have been learning to do in the last year), but to also make it more vulnerable by showing it outside of my studio (or this blog).

All 53 artists in Denver and all 53 artists/art-groups in Berlin got to work responding to their questions knowing that their work would be finished by the asker.  After a month of working, all of the artwork (in Denver) was due to GroundSwell Gallery so that we could ship the artworks to Berlin for the artists there to finish and then exhibit at Neurotitan.  Likewise, Neurotitan had to collect all of their artists works and send them to Denver.  (Organizational note:  Always send all the artwork in one package, one time if you can.  Sending multiple packages on different schedules does not seem to make a schedule run smoothly.  Repeat: Ship everything at once.)  In late January, early February, artists received the artworks that their collaborator started in response to the question they had asked.  Everyone had to work on responding to his/her own question AND responding to another artist's interpretation of that question.  Finally, all of the artworks in Denver were exhibited at Hinterland (Sabin's gallery on Walnut St.), Showpen (Don's gallery/artists' residence on 9th & Santa Fe) and at GroundSwell Gallery.

Left: Sara Guindon & Sophia Martineck, Center: Andrew Huffman & Vela, Right: Travis Hetman & Johann Büsen.  These 3 artworks each became an enmeshed synthesis of the collaborators' styles.  Sara and Sophia's styles seem one in the same, Andrew Huffman transformed Vela's (barely discernible now) gnome into his more rare stream-of-consciousness work and Travis had to break from his negative-space and work within Johann's frenetic overload of imagery.  In my opinion, these are awesome collaborative efforts.  (click on this image to see it larger...  find the gnome?)

In my experience I found it interesting that I had had an idea in my mind of how I would respond to my own question, but when I received my artwork from Xu, I had to re-think, re-imagine my visual "answer" to my own question.  As an organizer of this project, having looked at everyone's original questions, it became evident that some asked "what if..." with a plan for themselves and others asked as though "anything can happen!"  I can't say for sure, but I imagine the latter askers may have felt more free as they attempted to work on another artist's work and deal with the existential problem of answering our own questions.  Of course there is also the issue of working right on another artist's work.  I applaud the artists who boldly negotiated this problem for themselves and created excellent works while dismantling (ahem... destroying...) their partner's input.  I think it was important for artists to see this as a project where it was appropriate and expected that we just do-what-we-have-to-do to make an artwork. 

Left: Tyler Beard & Andres Villareal, Right: Jeffrey King & Nat Hamon.  Both Tyler and Jeffrey dismantled or destroyed their partner's work as a means to making work that is their own.  I point out that their partner's work is collaborative in that it is used as the medium for the artwork seen here.

Finally, I'll just say that this project has been a joy to co-create because of the co-creators.  The best parts about working with Danette at GroundSwell Gallery for the past 3 years have been our ability to lay everything out honestly, our naturally mutual objectives and our equal willingness to work hard with attention to the balance between our workloads.  Working with Don and Sabin on this project has resulted in a similar working style and the four us seem as surprised as we are delighted and motivated to continue working together.  Group projects are not often this easy and fair.

Direct Connect Denver plans to document this project carefully and create a pdf book as well as a print-to-order book of the artworks.  DCD also plans to do another project in 2015.

What kind of artist am I?

Me, at right, deliberating. **

At the beginning of this month, I participated in a panel discussion on Provisional painting.  At the start, I was introduced as a curator and founder of GroundSwell Gallery and as a conceptual artist.  Albeit the moderator did hesitate around the term "conceptual," I found myself befuddled as my mind tried to respond to the larger issue: What kind of artist I am.

This is a familiar topic for me nonetheless.  Most people, upon discovering that I am an artist, ask me, What kind of artist?  Am I a painter?  Or... ?  Most people who are outside of the art community immediately wonder if I am a painter.  I'm amused by this initial thought: Artist = Painter.  I imagine this is a result of one's art education only reaching the middle school level, so familiarity with artists ranged from Monet to Picasso to Pollack to Warhol (MAYBE Warhol).  All painters.

Anyway, my response is usually that yes, I do paintings sometimes, but my art making and media choices are a result of an initial inspiration.  I usually have a vision that relates to philosophy or a personal discovery and that vision leads to a media choice that makes sense.  I just follow my intuition in answering the question, "How can I realize this vision?"  I don't consider myself an expert in any one media, but I do consider myself adept at many media and broadly experienced with various techniques and skill-sets.  Blahdy blahdy blahdy, is this person still listening?  Is what I am saying ringing any bells?  Maybe...  so, sometimes I do paintings.  Sometimes I make sculpture.  I've worked in performance.  I enjoy making large installations, site-specific and otherwise.  Right now, I'm making drawings on paper.  Another aspect of my work is that I tend to work in a very repetitive way.

In the case of the panel discussion, which was also about a vague matter (Provisional painting), I realized I was now talking to a group of people who speak the language of art, of media, of technique and the artist's practice.  These individuals had the background information on the subject and I felt compelled to answer this question more in depth.  However, I was also posed with the categorization of conceptual artist.  I began my response by saying that I had never actually considered myself a conceptual artist, but I could see why she, the moderator, might say so.  My work, being of different media and techniques from project to project, is often linked to a concept, which I describe alongside my work (examples: www.rebeccapeebles.com).  The concept from one project to the next may string along familiar modalities of thinking and working or similar goals despite varied processes toward reaching the goal.  So by the end of my dribbling, befuddled artspeak, I actually said out loud, "Well, maybe you're right.  Maybe I AM a conceptual artist."

No, that's not true.  How bizarre that I walked all around that self-definition-moment undecided, almost desperate to end the tail-spin, and then I just accepted the assumption.  So having given it some thought for a few more weeks, I'll say what I have meant to say for a long time.  I am not a painter.  I am not a sculptor.  I am not an installation artist.  I am not a conceptual artist.  I am not a performance artist.  I am not a print maker.  I am not a textile/fiber artist.  I am not an illustrator.  I wouldn't even call myself an interdisciplinary artist (although that vague term is perhaps the closest fit).

I am an artist.  That is all I am.  I utilize all of who I am and what I know and what I have as I need to.  I make art.
That's enough for me.
I'm certainly not trying to fit into any categories for catalogs or historical documents.  I could care less about my CV or resume.  I even think it's time to re-write my Artist's statement to say less about what kind of artist I am.
There's no reason for me to try to be the right kind of artist or make the kind of art that's popular.  I don't believe in making art for the market or even for an audience - those aims are destructively distracting from my art practice.
I make art for (first) myself and (second) for the love in it and (third) for beauty.

To the moderator of that discussion, thank you for helping me realize who I am not and therefore, who I am... as an artist.

**photo credit - Rebecca Vaughn

Moving Day

Today I moved my studio from a 120 sq. ft. room (our 2nd bedroom) to a 600 sq. ft. SPACE (emphasis on the "space").
snapshots of the 14th Ave. Studio (2 yrs of claustro-arto-phobia):

These photos were taken by cramming myself into the opposite corners of the room

and the new 4747 Studio ((sigh) take it all in):

As usual, these photos don't begin to convey the enormous difference this will make for my art making life.

My studio mates: John McEnroe and Bruce Price.  I am stoked.
Here's to a new adventure! 

Installation - One Work of Intention

Yesterday My husband I installed this painting, one of three in a series called, Works of Intention, that I made in 2011.  My patron, Tara Emrick and Dr. Brian Kono opened Highland Integrative Pediatrics (H.I.P., for short) over in the LoHi neighborhood of Denver last Spring to answer a need for more holistic pediatric care.  Dr. Brian's words: 

There is a way to combine the best of natural and conventional healing in one center.  We don't have to be solely eastern or western practitioners and patients.  We can integrate the two and improve the health of our children and our family in a holistic way that treats each child and family unit as a unique and valued member of our practice community. 

Tara runs programming for H.I.P. Studio in a spacious studio within the building.  H.I.P. Studio provides therapeutic classes for meditation, yoga, grief counseling and various health and parenting education classes.  Tara has been a patron of my artwork in the past and I am honored to have my artwork influence the soulful life and work of this lady.  
This Mantra, called the Gayatri Mantra reads as follows (first in Sanskrit, then in English):


 Aum Bhur Bhuva Svah
Tat Savitur Varenyam
Bhargo Dhevasya Dhimahi
Dhiyo Yo Nhaha Prachodayat 

On the absolute reality and it's planes, 
On that finest spiritual light, 
We meditate,
As remover of obstacles
That it may inspire and enlighten us.

Thanks Christian! 

The purpose of this artwork is to lend intention to a space and to express warmth beginning with deep hues of heat and lifting up to the yellow hues of sunny lightness.  The lettering of the mantra is monochromatic (one derivative off its corresponding band of color) to increase the sense of rising warmth and lightness.  The mantra is not so obvious as to be quickly read and forgotten.  To read it requires a moment of looking and may lend a pause for meditation.

There are three Works of Intention.  The other two are the Anusara Yoga Invocation and the 4 Dharma's of Ghampopa.  Each of these, including the Gayatri Mantra are 7.5' x 7' and were originally installed side by side by side to fill a foyer, floor to ceiling, for a yoga studio in Denver.

Co Incidence

Co Incidence installation, view upon entry, with one of two portraits at Pablo's Coffee 1300 Pennsylvania St., Denver, CO

Co
Incidence
Coincidence

I'm talking about two things that happen at once, partners in incidence, existing and acting simultaneously whether in or out of balance.  In the case of this art installation, Co Incidence, that I did at Pablo's Coffee (Pennsylvania St. at 13th Ave., Denver, CO), I intended to highlight a nuance of understanding of this term as described by Carl Jung that particularly affected me as I work to increase my personal, mental stability.

Whew... stay with me.
Jung describes the coincidence of opposites as an achievable state of mind wherein opposing states such as chaos and peace of mind can be balanced by placing one's awareness directly between or in the middle of the two states.  This is an exercise in the mind usually applicable when experiencing overly negative or painful states of mind.  For example, I have a habit of critical self judgement that is usually productive, but, when extreme, can make me feel like a helpless failure.  When I'm feeling this way, I am aware of myself as self supporting and a person of intelligence but the extreme feeling of failure or helplessness keeps me distant from these more useful modes of being.  Jung says that if we can become aware of ourselves as a coincidence of these two opposites that even in these most off-balance experiences we can pull back into balance.  We can reengage with ourselves as whole beings.  It's hard work, but I've been able to do this a few times and when that point of awareness, balance and then compassion for myself arrives (at the co incidence), I am lighter, more peaceful, more clear-thinking, and able to forgive myself for the overly critical, self effacing judgement I've imposed.  At that point, I can even think more clearly about why that critical judge flew off the handle like that.

When I first realized this possibility,  I shared what I had read (in Healing into Life and Death, by Stephen Levine) with my therapist and was feeling particularly hopeful about my personal welfare as I drove home from our session.  In a most typical Colorado way, a storm was moving through and the sunshine burst through from behind me and a rainbow appeared ahead.  The rainbow - a representation of the coincidence of opposites: sunny-day, rainy day.

So I went to my studio and made a portrait of myself having skin with a rainbow gradient of color as my skin.

The rainbow that I made at Pablo's, perfectly level, at average eye-level, cutting through all of the spaces inhabited by cafe goers, represented to me a kind of settling awareness and a moment of looking around, seeing where you are.  The rainbow colors are uniquely uplifting in their color-grouping (different than any other group of colors).  The whole installation evolved out of intuition from the moment I saw the rainbow from the car that late afternoon.  For me, it's personal - a part of the journey of self healing and self balancing and self love that I've been on throughout adulthood and that has increased since the death of my Sister in Law, Whitney and her husband Dave.  For everyone else, it's a moment of present awareness and recognition for the feeling you get when a rainbow sets in.  The rainbow colors of my skin tone (there are two self portrait drawings directly across the room from each other) may imply different things to different people, but to me it was seeing the rainbow in myself.  It was seeing the coincidence of the opposites and placing myself there in order to be a more complete expression of myself.

Formal presentation of this work is viewable on my website, www.rebeccapeebles.com under "Installations."
Many thanks to Christian Butler, AnnaMarie Fidel-Rice, Gretchen Marie Schaefer and Pattie Lee Becker for their assistance in realizing this project.

I don't know what Art is.

I'm at home sick today so maybe that will explain my wild statement about not knowing what Art is in the subject line.  Or, maybe this is just an expression of Zen knowing and not knowing and I'm about to unleash some real higher thinking right now.

Unlikely.

I bring this up because I just read in the September 2013 of The Atlantic, Out is the New In : Why outsider art - dirty, brutish, and raw - is all the rage by Sarah Boxer.  From what I gather, in my experience as an artist and with running GroundSwell Gallery, the tendency with most artists is to do what they believe is their "art" and it's usually noticeable when the spark of authenticity is not there.  I'd say that meeting the artist and talking with him or her about the art is usually a good test to find out if this is really Art or not.  Sometimes I do come across folks who are making what I would consider to be decoration or very creative design projects.  Sometimes it seems an artist could dive more deeply into his or her art-making but is distracted by the notion of "reaching the audience," pleasing gallerists, or making works that are "consumable" or "priced to sell."  When it really comes to Contemporary Art Trends, it has nothing to do with, on the whole, what artists are making.  When it comes to Outsider Art today, we're all outsiders for the most part...  The insiders are handpicked by a few know-it-alls looking to make money right now.  This is, unfortunately, how our culture is defined now - not as much by authentic expressions in response to our time, but a framing of "culture" utilized to create a market demand.

Sarah Boxer's article expresses that many outsider artists were psychotic in some fashion, "madman," brut, traumatized, and others were just doing their thing, uneducated, but owning it and practicing art-making as an innate calling.  My favorite reference is to Bill Traylor, an African-American artist in Alabama "discovered" by a younger artist, Charles Shannon, who was enchanted by Traylor's serenity in his art making.  In this case and the case of the "brut," the artist is not driven by expectations, ideas, trends and money of the "Art World."

Oh my, that sounds attractive albeit a little isolated.

Then, the isolated artist (maybe he's psychotic, maybe he's a hermetic monk) and, more importantly, his or her artwork are discovered by someone of influence within the upper echelons of the "Art World."  The know-it-alls are enchanted by the never-before-known genius of this artist and see the art as a another get-rich-quick opportunity: "Oh, Auction House B just went nuts over Henry Darger's obsessive paintings of children!  The crazy sh*t this new-found artist makes out of mud and her own feces is going to hit the market like a firecracker!"

I'm starting to sound bitter, and maybe that's because for the lasts 10 - 15 years I mostly believed that any hardworking artist could make a living off of their ARTwork.  At this point in my artmaking life, I don't really think that's true.  Almost every artist I know has other work that supports them and they're lucky if that work is a healthy utility of their creative talent.  It seems to me, especially after reading Don Thompson's The $12 Million Stuffed Shark, that "Making It" as an artist has two very separate meanings.

Making It! option #1:  Make art in such a way as to brand yourself.  Make sure that people know what you look like or what your artwork looks like by creating an indelible propaganda with your art.  Often this entails tapping into the neuroses of our culture streaming out of popular media trends already driven by marketing tactics and economic models.  Hustle.  Get to know as many people hustling as you can - power in numbers!  Always be in the right place at the right time.  Get into publications, known-name-gallery exhibitions, museums, collections and make sure that you are international in your reach.  Then, there's a .0001% chance that someone in the Auction House arena will PICK YOU.  Yesssssss!

Making It! option #2:  Make art in such a way as to increase awareness, increase tactile and emotional intelligence, and increase truth and joy in this world.  Start with yourself.  It takes a lifetime of practice to reach a point where your artwork may affect the larger culture.  Attend to the inspiration that evolves out of your art practice and the life that you live with friends and family and work.  Pay attention to your dreams and to your intuition and make what you envision.  Make what you want to make.  This isn't a dress rehearsal - make what reflects who you know yourself to be.  If you can do this, talent or no talent (remember the outsider artist), there is a 99.99999% chance that you will die happy.   There is also a .0001% chance that someone in the Auction House arena will PICK YOU.  (...whatever...)

What I mean to say is,
No matter what an artist does, whether making art or making propaganda, whether making mud and feces sculptures, or making perfectly square black lacquered cubes, whether working on the inside or the outside, inside-out or outside-in, the chance of "making it" like a rock star is slim to none.  But, the chance of living a happy, fulfilled, self-knowing, wise and serene existence is pretty high.

I say I don't know what Art is because I see it as ephemeral and in flux.  I know that when I look at many works on the walls at museums, galleries, and in my own home, I understand the work to be "Art."  Sometimes I know nothing about the artist, sometimes I know more than enough.  I have tastes and preferences though even work that I don't aesthetically connect to can move me.  I know that when I set about to make art, I am either working from my own inspiration or I'm plagued by a sense of pleasing others.  When I think about Outsider Art and Insider Art, I realize that either can be Art, and that one or the other is being promoted by those in the Art dealing game.

Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art Art

Remember that game where you say a word as many times as it takes to begin to lose meaning and seem to be an arbitrary sound coming out of your mouth?  You can do it with any word.  I think it could be important to do that exercise with the word "art" every once in a while so as to remember how arbitrary the word and it's attending subject matter really are.

Now, I'm going to go and look at some art at two different art shows going on in town.  Then I plan to head back home and make some art with 10 lbs. of leftover porcelain clay I've been musing over in my studio for about a year.

Let it be known that my opinions change and my knowledge is always being reformed. 

2 years and counting

GroundSwell Gallery, the gallery that Danette Montoya and I conceived in May 2011, has now been operating for over 2 years.  We had our 2nd birthday in May, celebrating aesthetically and skillfully advanced artwork by Denver's own artists; celebrating consistent and fair exhibition opportunities for professional rising artists; celebrating our own achievement as one of Westword's Masterminds for 2012; and celebrating all the positive and constructive relationships we've built with artists and designers, musicians and performers!
The warm season began with color,

Andrew Huffman 4U2C, April 2013, yarn installation detail with drawing at back

with poignant, personal artworks by deep-thinking artists,

Jaimie Henthorn, Body Building, May 2013 and Evan Isoline, Poltergeists, June 2013

with new media exhibitions and with a new mural

alley-mural west of gallery, June 2013, Kevin Hennesy, Mario Zoots, and Ryan Ingersol

and currently continues with an exquisite exhibition of 39 local artists' postal collaborations - Exquisite Corpse : Stamped & Mailed.

please follow the Exquisite Corpse link above to see more images from the exhibition

To say the least, running GroundSwell Gallery for these few years has felt like a time-warp (Did that just happen?) and has pushed Danette and myself to utilize as many skills and as much energy as we didn't know we had.  We've realized that as artists running a gallery for artists, that we can provide a unique experience for those wanting to exhibit (as much as possible) on their own terms.  We've opened ourselves to the ideas of other artists, designers, musicians and diverse creatives and put our curatorial muscles to work.  The gallery makes us very proud of Denver artists.  The gallery has inspired us, taught us  many lessons and has helped us realize who we can be.

I am thankful for the history we've made so far with our 3,672 square feet granted to us by GroundSwell Cannabis Boutique.  All we did was get started...  and now our desire to provide aesthetically adequate and credible space for the art of Denver's own has been achieved... and then some!  I hope you'll visit (we're open every day) 3121 East Colfax Ave., Denver, CO, 80206.

I would like to extend heartfelt thanks to Danette Montoya, Don Novak, Christian Butler, Sara Guindon, Mario Zoots, Christy, Shannon and Mary of GroundSwell Cannabis Boutique, Susan Froyd, Mark Sink and to all the brilliantly talented artists who have worked with us! 

Tinnient Campana... public.

Completed throughout last summer, installed in 2 exhibitions last Fall and installed early January 2013 in Russel Christopher Hair Salon - Tinnient Campana. 

click on images to view larger

This sculptural installation of 99 bells engages the viewer's own sensory knowledge and curiosity.  To engage a bell is intuitive despite the Bell's ongoing antiquity and gradual obsoletion. 

The spatial relationship one has when near a bell is often magnetic as we are drawn to hear its tone and resonance.  Each bell is completely unique and offers the classically peaceful experience of hearing sound and feeling subtle vibration.

So thankful to Russ and Shannon to have this lovely black wall to install these bells.
Visit the salon to see the installation at 3221 E. Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80206.
Tinnient Campana is available for purchase; if interested, please inquire.

new to the collection

Currency Andrew Speer, oil and acrylic on linen, 16" x 20"

Thrilled to have a new painting in my art collection!  This work by Denver Artist, Andrew Speer, was just a part of GroundSwell Gallery's exhibition, Provisional.  Andrew's paintings, however provisional they may be, are refreshingly of the moment.  The title, Currency, may be as much about money as it is "the quality or state of being current."  This currency for me is the moment of release - when you've let go of the work and it's flying off to the sky though you still feel the energy in your heart and hands from making it.  Thank you to Andrew for giving rise to this feeling in me each time I pass near your work in my home.

Westword's Mastermind Award 2013 - Visual Arts

Danette Montoya & Rebecca Peebles (photo: Bianca Bourgeois)

Just as thankful as I can be to work with such an extraordinary lady, Danette Montoya.  We started GroundSwell Gallery in May of 2011 with a good intention, love for art, and willingness to work hard.  We wanted to use the opportunity that GroundSwell Cannabis Boutique provided - a sunlight filled empty room - to provide a gallery space unlike any other we knew of in Denver.  The idea was to work pro-bono to create a niche for artists looking to show their work without the hype of convincing anyone that their work is easy to sell.  We didn't intend to make a profit, so we wanted to afford the opportunity to show for installation, performance and nontraditional/new media.  On top of that, we knew this kind of gallery space - beautifully lit, good location, and professionally managed was what many up-and-coming artists of Denver (and surrounding areas) needed in order to exhibit their work with integrity and confidence.

Today, we were announced as one of five winners of the Westword's Mastermind Award for 2013!  "Recognizing that artists need not just creativity, but money to help things go — and grow — Westword started the MasterMind Awards program in 2005, to honor the city's creative geniuses in the categories of literary arts, performance, multimedia, visual arts and fashion/design; we've inducted a new class every year since."

Danette Montoya (photo: B. Bourgeois)

Wow.

We are so pleased and honored to receive this distinguished award and to stand amongst some of the most wonderful people we know in Denver's art community.  With big hearts, we look forward to using the award money to increase the potential for the many artists scheduled to show with us in the months to come!  Thank you to our peers.  Thank you to Westword for this amazing program, which  affirms so many hard working hours and efforts.  While I'm at it, thank you to GroundSwell Cannabis Boutique and all those affiliated with it's existence - we are deeply grateful for your contribution to Denver's cultural wealth.  Lastly, another huge thanks to my partner, Danette - I can hardly describe what a phenomenal partnership we have.

For What it's Worth

Some of you know that I co-run and co-curate GroundSwell Gallery in Denver, CO.  The gallery's focus is to provide contemporary, local artists a place to exhibit without the risk of failing to pay our rent.  This means that we can show the work of artists who have never shown before, artists working in experimental media, artists making site specific installations, artists who don't want exclusive representation, etc. - let's face it, other galleries often deny these kinds of opportunities because they must have certainty around selling work to the audience they have worked hard to attract.  No one's to blame... but it leaves many artists sore about their lack of venue and unrecognized contribution to our city's art "world." 

With about 1 1/2 years of work toward making this gallery a valuable component of Denver's art scene, I find that the most perplexing issue we face is PRICE.  The monetary value of art from the artist's perspective, from the curator's perspective, and from the audience's perspective - these are all different numbers.  Despite not having to "worry" about money as much as other exhibition venues, we do have to deal with this issue because artists want and sometimes need to sell their work and the "audience" (sometimes) wants to be able to buy art.  On top of that, we truly want the public to have access to authentic (not made just to make some money), soul-stirring, beautiful, aesthetically intelligent, skillfully made ART in their lives, in their homes, and for the health of their hearts and minds.  (sound churchy?  yeah, this is my religion)  We may not always succeed at this, but that is what is at the core of our intentions.

Having said all this, I admit, my real intention is simply to do what I (personally) can do to support what I believe (described above) is GOOD ART.  That's all I want.  That's what I want with my own artwork as well - and I have little interest in participating in the art market* myself because, apart from some serendipitous opportunities based out of good relationships with like-minded people, the art market is a confusing, trend based shape-shifter and often aesthetically disinterested.

Even if I don't want to, I do participate in the art market with this gallery.  I want to have a broader view about it, some way to work with it, some willingness to understand some gist of it....
Beginning with Rebels in Paradise, Hunter Drohojowska-Philp's book on the LA art scene in the 1960s, I'm reading to gain depth of understanding around the value of art, how that value is defined and why.  I want to read whatever theories are out there regarding the art market and art trends.  This is not to stand in for some "Art and Business" course, nor is this an attempt at learning sales tactics.  I am simply interested in standing more firmly in understanding (or at least affirming my fear that this art market thing is just a hoax anyway). 

I just read Sunday Dialogue : What is that Art Worth? headed by William Cole's letter to the Editor (New York Times, 1.5.13)
Planning to read The $12 Million Stuffed Shark: The Curious Economics of Contemporary Art by Don Thompson.  
 
Any texts, blogs, articles or editorials are welcome - please recommend.

*I realize the term "art market" refers to a monstrously indefinable monster.

October and November

I got busy.
busier than normal and then I had to decompress after all the business.

Most of October I did one of 3 things: Worked at Pablo's coffee where I always work on the weekends, worked weekdays at the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver where I do install on contract a few times a year, and worked on a large cross-stitch.  I also spent a few days with my amazing, artful friends, Nina and Craig who visited from Wisconsin and I also did the work of GroundSwell Gallery because we had another opening (as we do every month).  Here are a few notable pictures from that time:

MCA's Postcript show up through Feb. 3, I helped hang the many grid layouts

Lindsay St. Antoine opened at GroundSwell Gallery Nov. 10,  I bought this painting.

field trip to Clyfford Still Museum with Christian, Nina and Craig.

Pablo's Coffee...  mmm, latte.  I can sling a lot of lattes in 5 - 7 hours

This is the project that it's been all about for the last 8 months.  Showing one more week at Redline Gallery for the Art by Craft exhibit. (click image to see full size)

The month of October was especially important for completing this cross stitch project.  Spending Time, a double portrait of my husband and myself created from a photograph that I took and then pixilated.  Each stitch recreates the image pixel by pixel.  Formally, this work nods to early American needlework and the tedious work of commemorating family through stitches.  Conceptually, the sustained work of cross stitching over 8 months, spending time with the image of us together, builds to a meditative practice.  I felt the work became compulsive as the deadline for the Art by Craft exhibition neared, though I doubt it would have been so, had there not been a deadline.  This piece is immediately very personal to me.  Maybe that's obvious, but unlike other artwork that I have made, I feel more protective and private about this.  I want it to be as simple as it is and as monumental as it is without elaboration.

Also installed at this exhibition, the Tinnient Campana installation (previously installed at Forest Room 5 in September). 

Tinnient Campana also on view at Redine through Nov. 29 (click image for full size)

This artwork refers to the proliferation of ring tones without bells in modern culture.  The bell itself (like latin and other obsolete forms of communication have done) is gradually becoming a lesser known object or tool for communication.  Lovely in tactile forms and unique resonances, I wanted to make the bells for this installation out of adoration for the antiquated object and recognition for its outmoded-ness highlighted by our dear cell phones.  Tinnient Campana literally means, ring the bell, and our unknowing of that meaning may leave us hesitantly reaching for the bell as though to ring it, unsure of our intuition.

This installation is difficult to photograph because it is about 25 ft. long in total.  Eventually, my website will be updated to include best images.

Last note:  Because I needed to get back to it, a thank you to Mark Bystrom for noting that my blog has been ignored since early September.