Saturday, June 28, 2014

Fact & Fantasy Winners: Angelina Kidd

At only seven years old, Angelina Kidd had caught the photography bug from her mother.  By trusting her daughter to use her 35mm camera, the Kidd’s mother planted the photography seed in Kidd’s mind. Since then, Kidd has had encouragement from a variety of people in her life and one very important mentor. Her photographic eye evolved over time into the surreal and theatrical work that defines her style today.  Her winning image, Jumping Into the Vortex, is a prime example. At first glance it appears to be constructed set pieces, perhaps from a theater stage, but closer in reality the set is small-scale cut paper and shadow puppets.

Jumping Into the Vortex

Constructing images is Kidd’s preferred method of working.  Unlike most photographers who record and interpret the world around them, even if aided by props and costumes, Kidd finds freedom in creating a tableau from raw materials. Of her process she says, “I know very little about Photoshop. Not because I am against it, but rather I relish in the experience of cutting paper, using tape, playing with textured fabrics and then my camera translates it into something even more magical than I expected.” It is the unexpected that keeps her interested in the medium. Each photograph begins as a dream or a flash of inspiration. She allows it to marinate in her consciousness until it is time to enter the studio. Once there, she allows her subconscious and emotions to take over and guide the camera to the final image. Her photographs require some pre-planning to determine what materials might be needed, but once she is behind the camera, the characters and scenes she has created take on a life of their own. 


In an age when images are consumed at a rapid rate, Kidd’s way of working is extremely time consuming and her hope is that her viewers will take their time to examine the photographs, as she has taken time to create them. The series itself is about time and its long-term effects, focusing on the life-death cycle on a macro scale, examining multiple lifetimes.

New Mexico

Kidd has been taking a much-needed break from creating new work. Having recently completed her MFA in photography from Lesley University College of Art and Design. For two years she traveled between her school in Boston and her home in Washington State. The intense travel and curriculum pushed Kidd out of her comfort zone and “took me to levels of creativity I never thought I was capable of.” This current period of repose has allowed time for reflection and inspiration as she contemplates the next direction for her work. Kidd has also used this time away from the camera to exhibit this series, which has garnered positive press.

Silhouette of Silhouettes

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Barbara Crawford

We are pleased to exhibit the paintings of Barbara Crawford. A prolific painter and Lexington resident, Barbara’s work examines memory and place. We spoke with her about her work and inspiration.

Anticipating Memory
32 x 36 oil on linen

Tell us about your upbringing and its influence on your identity as an artist.

I was born in southwest Oklahoma where the vastness of the prarie and its partnering sky still haunt my memory. There is a raw beauty to be found in the starkness of the landscape with its severe contrast between sky and land. This is the heart of tornado country and they were part of the drama of my childhood.
Summers were spent “camping” in the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge and on the Comanche Reservation. The animals in my life were the longhorn, buffalo, rattle snakes, scorpions, scissor tailed flycatcher, prairie dog, tarantulas, and a pet rabbit called “Peter Underfoot.” My father grew up there and knew every secret fishing spot and every resident: human, animal, insect, bird and reptile. (I killed my first water moccasin at age 8 because he had my fish in his mouth!) I say “camping” but all we really did was throw a sleeping bag on the ground. Every three or four days we would head back into town, clean up and refresh our supplies. I thought all children grew up like this. It was during these summers that my mother was running the family business which was a combination of art supply, framing and toy store. My parents made valuable contributions to the arts in our small town and from as long as I can remember, I had all the free art supplies I could want, in addition to unending encouragement from my mother.
When I look at my current painting I can see a resonating spirit from the landscape of my childhood and the accompanying experiences.

Anticipating Memory
32x36 oil on linen

Anticipating Memory took your work in a new direction from your more traditional landscapes. How did this shift come about?

I think of myself as a painter, not so much as a “landscape painter” but with a strong connection to the land; it seems logical. I do work in series, but to me all my paintings seem connected, where one emerges from another. If I could line them all up in the studio, I think it would be evident. There are only three notable shifts or changes in my work, thematically speaking. I had been doing a series called Felled by Bliss, where there was mostly sky with a low horizon line and just a slip of land. One beautiful October day, while working in the studio, and having just painted one of these skies, but without the land, my husband came to the studio and told me about the shooting at the West Nickel Mines School, the one-room Amish school house in Pennsylvania. Here ten girls were shot, and five died. The horror of that event touched me to the core. Each time I returned to the studio, I attempted to finish the painting but could not. I had the feeling that on that day, October 2, 2006, there was a separation of heaven and earth. From that experience came the sky-only paintings. Later, the inserts were added, as if there was a piecing in parts of memory. This evolved to where the works were enclosed within architectural frameworks with additional arched inserts. The Sanctuary series, with it's animals posed in religious structures, also grew out of that group.
Prelude to the Night
30x40 oil on linen

You spend part of each year in a small town in Italy. How has that environment influenced your work?

The architectural elements in all of the works are obvious references to my experiences in Italy. I have taken my art history students to Italy for over 30 years and my husband and I have had the good fortune to spend our summers there.

11x14 oil on canvas

You have participated in several prestigious residency programs overseas. What is it that you hope to get out of a residency on a creative and personal level?

My first residency—at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts—was valuable in that it offered me the opportunity to deeply immerse myself in long, uninterrupted periods of work.  These periods often felt like a long, deep dive to the bottom of my creative self. When I did surface for air, I found myself among fellow divers, who wanted to talk about their discoveries and to hear about one's own. The result mirrored art itself, in that experiences that were entirely personal became shared experiences. 

The experiences I described were repeated in subsequent residences. But I became more attentive—my gratitude extended—to the qualities of the place of the residency. In Ireland, it was the land, sky and people; in Rome, it was the buildings and the history their bricks and stones contained. Of course, Italian life enriched the experience.

11x14 oil on canvas

Finally, we ask this of all of our artists, what does success in art mean to you?

I find that if my work is based on honesty—with myself, the subject, the materials used and the public—then I have been successful.

Poetics is on view at The Kiernan Gallery through June 28.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Fact & Fantasy Winners: Zoe Zimmerman

Director’s Choice winner for Fact & Fantasy, Zoe Zimmerman speaks about her studio practice.

Her Mother's Garden

Describe your path to alternative process photography. What led you to it, where did you start, and how did you end up working with albumen prints?

When I was a kid my mother taught me how to make a soufflé. She did not tell me that people find making soufflés challenging. It was something we ate. We had chickens, lots of eggs at all times and not a lot of money. To my mother a soufflé was the logical choice to feed the family. I did not find making a soufflé difficult, just that there were many steps involved. More than making an omelet. The steps were worth it. An omelet is good but a soufflé is miraculous. So delicious and truly much more than the sum of it’s parts.

I came to albumen printing in much the same way. I already had a leg up, what with the egg separating expertise from the soufflés.  Albumen printing requires more steps for the final satisfaction of a beautiful print. Each step in itself is not difficult, there are just a lot of them. The result is definitely more than the sum of its parts. It is miraculous and better than an omelet.

That is the poetic answer, but there were also circumstances that drew me to alternative process work. I have always been a stickler for print quality and when I was in art school there were students churning out ‘work’ prints for critiques, hundreds of the horrible, muddy things that we were then expected to discuss. I was genuinely offended by the ugliness and the gross quantity of what I was seeing week to week. Couldn’t I find a process that was involved enough and beautiful enough to justify pinning up just one or two gems for a critique? My teachers did not love me for it, did not encourage my methodical insanity, but I felt so much better with one successful albumen print than with reams of concept driven drivel. I started making albumen prints as a form of rebellion. I was not a Julia Margaret Cameron throwback, I was a cocky little punk.

Her Dream III

Your work has a surreal and sometimes theatrical element to it. How much pre-planning is involved in the making of a photograph?

My brain stays pretty busy. I have files upon files of ideas in there. Most of them will never see the light of day. I suppose one could say that the pictures take a lifetime of planning…or no planning at all. I keep things very simple in the staging and execution of the images but some of my operatic nature leaks in nonetheless.

The image Her Dream III was planned for a long time. I bought the dollhouse from a junk store with the intention of burning it (there is a sub-theme of cathartic arson peppered throughout my work) but at the time my daughter was too young for the picture to tell the story I intended. The picture is about being a tween; that uncomfortable edge one walks between child and teenager. This year my daughter announced that she wanted to get rid of all the effluvia of childhood in her room…so I knew it was time to take the picture.


Tell us more about this series. What was its evolution? How has using your daughter as your model influenced your work?

The ongoing series of pictures of my daughter is the marriage of my two main modes in life. The dance of Artist/Mother is a challenging one for me and though the ultimate goal is grace and balance, I do not find it easy. How does one carve out the time and energy for a creative endeavor without neglecting some of the needs ones children? How can I say, “ I am here for you.” When what I really want is to be in the studio messing with pictures? This series started as a means of including my child in my studio life.

When we first began, I directed her and she happily joined the game, but quickly she began to have ideas of her own and the project became a collaboration. Her ideas are always more spontaneous and less concept driven and this keeps the project from becoming too static. Now that she is older, she reminds me to continue the series. “Mom, we need to make a picture today” Do you know how satisfying that feels?

Her Dream

Working in the studio you have to construct your images from scratch. How does this process influence your work?  

I did not always shoot in the studio. When I was learning my craft, I was more of a hunter/gatherer; loading the large format cameras into some disreputable vehicle that was bound to overheat and scouring the countryside for a beauty that sparked me. It was good. I was a professional trespasser.

I moved into the studio because my life changed. I had my son and, well, if he wasn’t with me then someone needed to know where I would be. If I was going to get any work done, I had to be available.

The studio was intimidating at first. It was “creating” as opposed to “finding.” I started slowly with still lifes that were metaphors for emotional states and then worked up to more narrative images. I have grown more comfortable with the process and appreciate the control the studio affords. Creating things from scratch comes naturally to me. You know, like the soufflé. It just takes more steps.


Finally, we ask this of all of our artists, what does success in art mean to you?  

Success as an artist is having at least one person (who isn’t your mother) who gives a shit about your work. Art is a form of communication. If you are communicating clearly, someone is going to get it and applaud. If you are lucky, that somebody is a curator or a gallery director or an art critic who can lead you to a larger audience of somebodies who get it and applaud. Applause feels good. Understanding feels good. But really all you need is one person (who is not your mom) who would be heartbroken if you quit.

Fact & Fantasy is on view at The Kiernan Gallery through June 28.