"Confluence" exhibition speaks to our climate crisis through artists' innovative techniques and vision

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The opening reception for my current exhibition Confluence: Reflections on Our Shifting Environment at the Marin Art and Garden Center (Ross, CA) was a blast – it’s always best to share the artwork with visitors in person!

The show features three artists - Arminee Chahbazian, Laura Corallo-Titus and myself – who bring awareness to our shifting environment, and our changing perceptions of it, through innovative techniques in drawing, painting, photography and sculpture.

The Confluence artists - Arminee Chahbazian, Laura Corallo-Titus and Cindy Stokes

The exhibition runs through August 28, so if you’re in the Bay Area I hope you’ll visit before then (details here)!

Here are some highlights from the reception and the exhibition generally - thanks to all who attended!

In the main gallery, my installation Close to Home anchors one end of the room. Developed specifically for this site, this installation considers the breadth of man’s relationship to fire - from romance to utility to threat. It incorporates images from family campfires and sketches made with ink ground from burned trees from the CZU complex fire near Big Basin. Together these are built into flames and embers rising high overhead, evocative of wildfire and reminding us of the ever-growing threat of them worldwide. The installation is approximately 25’ x 12’ x 2’, comprising pigment prints and charcoal drawings on paper with protective coatings, Reemay, magnets, and lighting.

Each of the artists gave a short talk describing the motivation and background of our work. I described the genesis of my Close to Home project - both the installation as well as the separate wall sculptures - based on my family campfires contrasted with the overwhelming San Francisco Bay Area wildfires of 2020 during COVID lockdowns.

In addition to the installation in the main gallery, I have a dozen wall sculptures made from my sculptural photographs of fire in the exhibition. These were variously inspired by ways we talk about fire and feelings evoked by the dynamic nature of flame itself. These pieces have names such as Fireline, Contained, Perpetual Motion, Imagining, and Breath.

Laura’s works are multi-media paintings that address the manner in which historic expectations of landscape painting have been hijacked by a more chaotic and disrupted visual conclusion.

Inspired by observations of natural phenomena, Arminée creates large multi-media imagery on paper to explore how recent environmental shifts modulate our desires for nature’s beauty and drama, leading to a sense of displacement. Her stone sculpture compositions on the table retain primal memory while offering narratives that shift with time, light and orientation, just as our own relationship to the earth does.

I so appreciate all who attended! Following are a few more gallery views from the day.

Taking pictures during one’s own reception is haphazard but I managed a selfie with friends from the Bay Area Photographers Collective (first picture) of which I’m a member.

And a special shoutout to Ann Trinca is owed (fourth picture, on the left), as she instigated this exhibition for the three of us with the Marin Art and Garden Center for its climate month theme.

To attend the exhibition, here are the details:

Confluence: Reflections on Our Shifting Environment

Laura Corallo-Titus, Cindy Stokes and Arminee Chahbazian, artists

The Studio at the Marin Art and Garden Center

30 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Ross, CA

July 21-August 28

Hours: Thurs-Sat, 10 am - 4 pm, Sunday noon - 4 pm (call MAGC to arrange a different time)

To receive pictures and stories from my studio about work-in-progress, event invitations, etc., provide your email here.

Did you miss it? Here's my Open Studio in blog form - enjoy!

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Holding a full-on, in-person Open Studio on May 14-15 for the first time since 2019 was incredibly satisfying - seeing many friends and collectors in-person for the first time in ages; unveiling new photographic and sculptural work to good response; my first sales of sculptural photographs and shaped paper sculptures; many great conversations about art, life, science; and more.

Thanks to all who attended! Here’s an overview of the weekend -

Hello! This is me on Sunday, just before opening. On the left is my project Meditations in the Forest, Japan, and on the right is Impossible Journey (AKA The Wall). Besides unveiling a bunch of new artwork, this was also the unveiling of a new look for me, which was fun to surprise people with.

And here are some of those visitors in a view from the studio door. There are pieces from about five different bodies of work in this picture, both photographic and sculptural, plus samples on the work table. Keep scrolling for closer views. (Photo - Todd Sulzinger)

Above is the full installation Impossible Journey. I finished this just before Open Studios and the satisfaction of shaping and affixing the last few meters to the wall was incredible. For scale - the wall is 20’ wide and 10’ tall, and I’ve crumpled, folded, torn, braided, woven, crocheted and otherwise shaped180 m of 1 m wide sekishu paper to make this. You can learn more about this project here.

And this is the other project seen over my shoulder in the picture above, Meditations in the Forest, Japan. These are from a wonderful forest hike in the fog along the Old Tokaido Road near in the Hakone region of Japan. These are printed on a thin kozo and coated/embedded with cold wax.

In the opposite corner of my studio I displayed photographs from my ongoing obsession with water in all its forms. The two in the foreground are from my Dreamspace series and the two in the center are from Form and Formless. The shelves on the right contain studies and maquettes for other 3D work.

The work in color here is a new project called Transformed Lands, which are aerial photographs from commercial airline flights that I’ve printed on a clear acrylic medium and then shaped back into 3D topographies. The Open Studio is the first time I’ve shown these to anyone in person. See the grid below for closer pictures of a couple of individual pieces.

More visitors. It was so wonderful to reconnect with so many friends and collectors in person again! (Photo - Todd Sulzinger)

Here are some closeups of the display in my studio during Open Studios.

Here are all of us at Project 275 who participated in SVOS 2022, in our common hallway. Clockwise from front left - Pat Mayer, me, Peter Foley, Colleen Sullivan, Robert Perry, and Shirley Bunger. Below are some photos from each of the others’ studios and our displays in our joint hallways. (Photo - Todd Sulzinger)

That’s it from me for Silicon Valley Open Studios. To get invitations to future events in my studio and at Project 275 as a whole, enter your email in the form here! (Photos - Todd Sulzinger)

I would've never thought of that!

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One of the most challenging things about the visual arts is explaining the “why” behind the artwork - the inspiration, motivation, or “what we want to say” with the work. And artists have to do it a lot – in our artist statements; applications for exhibitions, public art, grants and awards; critiques and reviews; and just plain conversation.

Some years ago I was asked by Lonnie Graham, photographic artist and educator, at a portfolio review, “How do you want someone to feel when they see these photographs?”  

Feeling like it’s not for me to dictate how someone feels, I answered something like, “I want the viewer to feel something, but exactly what is up to them.” He wasn’t very satisfied with that, asserting that I should have an opinion since it’s my work that’s in front of them.

And the question stuck with me, so I guess I wasn’t satisfied either. I’ve developed more insight since then with much pondering, writing and discussion, and this post is about today’s answer.

I had to ask myself first

At some point I turned the question around and asked what sorts of experiences make me feel best or most alive (in a positive way). How do I want to feel?

And for me, I simply love being delighted by something unexpected or surprising. Something I don’t think I’d ever imagine myself, or don’t expect at a given moment.

For instance, my favorite movie is Monsters, Inc., not because it’s cute or heartwarming or beautifully made or technologically amazing, all of which it is, but because in addition, I would never in a million years have thought of that story.

If you’re not familiar (spoiler alert!), Monsters, Inc. is about Monstropolis, a world of monsters in which they have to sneak into the human world to scare children into screaming so that they can harvest the scream energy to power their world. Of course things go awry and both hilarity and sweetness ensue, but I digress.

My point is that I’m simply delighted by the uniqueness of the premise, which I would never, ever have thought of.

I’ve done scientific research for decades and besides the huge satisfaction of learning new things (learning also delights me), I always feel jazzed when someone comes up with a new, clever way to do a previously impossible experiment. Or they put two and two together in a way that equals 8 or 15 or 237, not because they play fast and loose with science but because they realize the actual question wasn’t 2+2=? to begin with.

With music, I’m delighted when rhythms or harmonies or keys morph in unusual ways, or when a jazz improvisation goes an unexpected direction. Last night I heard Taylor Eigsti (pianist) and Lisa Fischer (vocalist) put a completely different spin on John Lennon’s Imagine and it was awesome!

After watching my sisters make many (many!) quilts, a practice which is often based in symmetry and pattern, I find those I love best are ones where the quilter threw in a twist - some block is rotated or snuck in the “wrong” color somewhere. The same goes for the rest of visual art – nontraditional uses of materials and offbeat concepts or subject matter wake me up. (I’ll write more about art inspirations another time.)

And then there’s nature, which provides me no end of awe and delight in both form and function. From my travels to lands vastly different than home (Iceland, below) or filled with different flora and fauna (Australia!), to daily glimpses of grace like ice crystals on a window or the unfurling of a fern frond, nature delights and awe when I choose to open my eyes (and other senses).

How I want the viewer to feel

After putting words to what I love most to experience, I realized this is a big part of what I want others to feel with my art, too.

Delight. Surprise. Mystery and piqued curiosity. While it’ll vary with specific portfolios and pieces, I hope in some way that my artwork will evoke a version of, “Wow, that’s unexpected!” or “I would never have thought of that!”  

Experiencing delight and awe are a core part of being human, I think, and we all need experiences with the arts, food, stories and so forth that evoke them. 

My art’s not for everyone but for those who also feed on surprise and delight, I hope my it brings them forth! In these days when so much is contentious, difficult or literally dangerous, having more delight in the world as a counterpoint can only be good.

(P.S. This last photograph is abstracted from the silty water pictured in the Icelandic lake in the Landmannalaugar region, above.)

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From threat to comfort, Close to Home reflects on our relationship to fire →

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The art installation Close to Home is my visual narrative on the breadth of man’s relationship with fire. Learning to use fire was central to the rise of civilization, yet fire in the wild also lives on, uncontrolled and increasingly threatening modern life.

Fire seasons worldwide continue to grow longer, hotter, more destructive and more deadly with each decade. In just the last decade, Bay Area wildfires have had devastating impacts on both man and the environment, burning entire towns and neighborhoods, thousands of structures, and millions of trees, killed hundreds of people and uncountable wildlife, and endangered us all with smoke and haze for months each year.

Similar scenarios are playing out worldwide, and man isn’t innocent in this growing threat. Our contributions to climate change, how we use land and natural resources, and where we choose to live all play a role in ever longer and more destructive fire seasons.

And still, the intimate flames of our campfires and fireplaces embody the very essence of comfort, family and friendship. Sharing stories and laughter around the fire pit are an early memory for many; stoking a fire on the hearth has fueled many a couple’s romance. More practically, we rely on combustion to fuel everything from heating and cooking to transportation and industry. Given this ubiquity, it’s not surprising that fire is a central symbol across religion, myth, literature and popular culture, variously representing passion and desire, purification and rebirth, destruction and punishment, or hope and eternity. 

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Close to Home speaks to these contradictory roles of fire in our lives. It is developed around my photographs of flames, sculpted into curving, gestural three-dimensional forms, that were made at family campfires and embody my memories of comfort, laughter and kinship. On the backs are gestural drawings made with homemade sumi ink ground from charred wood from the 2020 CZU complex fire. On a central structure, groups of these sculpted photographs are arranged, mosaic-like, into much larger formations to evoke the ascending flames and embers of forest wildfires.

In some areas and at different times of day, shadows are primarily visible, whispers of promise or threat…or perhaps nothing. Likewise, on most objects one side of the sculptural photograph is hidden.

In the contrasts of small and large, visible or implied, I’m asking the viewer to consider our multifaceted relationship with fire and the environment generally - how we use natural resources, where we live, and how we balance current desires with future disaster. Addressing such questions is essential for the future of both man and the natural world.

The exhibition is in the Art Kiosk at 2208 Broadway (on Courthouse Square) in Redwood City, CA from April 17-May 30, 2021. It is viewed through the windows on all sides of the building at any time of day. A variable light program runs after dark until 2 am.

You’re invited to get regular updates on my artwork by joining my email community - click here to do so.

"Close to Home" for Redwood City's Art Kiosk is commissioned

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In late 2020, I was commissioned to produce an art installation in Redwood City’s Art Kiosk right on the main square of its downtown. My installation “Close to Home” is a narrative on the breadth of man’s relationship with fire, and will be on exhibit from April 17 - May 30, 2021.

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