SLAM! Seeing Skidmore Community in a New Light

This blog post is a little late, but I really wanted to describe my whole experience with attention and in detail. It is lengthy, so skip to the last paragraph for a summary of the show itself. 

On March 1^st, the Tang Thursday Night Events Coordinators, hosted a very successful spoken word & music night under the title Slam! When we started brainstorming ideas for this semester we knew that a spoken word night, similar to the one that occurred last year, was at the forefront of what we wanted to accomplish. Furthermore spoken word could be associated with the main exhibition of Corita Kent’s work, which is strongly focused on text and political action. I am a long-standing fan of spoken word and have always felt that it has been underrepresented at Skidmore. While I had some ideas for guest poets, I contacted Skidmore students Kali Block-Steele, Seth Johnstone and Luke Conely who are known for their spoken word talents to hear what poets they liked. There was a general consensus that nationally acclaimed poet Buddy Wakefield was a favorite. Simultaneously I was in contact with a friend and spoken word artist Michael Rosen to get his expertise. Coincidently he was organizing Buddy’s tour, so it just seemed like fate and we negotiated a suitable time for the tour to include Skidmore. From there, with the help of Luke, I approached many clubs and departments to accumulate enough money. With Buddy’s renowned status, recent appearance on Tedtalks and broad topic range, we were able to receive the money and support from Speaker’s Bureau, SEC, Hip-Hop Alliance, English, Sociology and American Studies Departments. I decided on my friends and Brooklyn based band, The Universe Project for the opening act, because of their laid back style and similarities between lead singer Kahiem’s poetic rapping to the syncopation of spoken word. I also asked Mike to act as the emcee for the night. He opened up a Buddy Wakefield show a couple years ago and his high-energy dynamism instilled an electrifying energy in the audience. More importantly I wanted him to explain to the audience how to react to and support the poets on stage. Spoken word or performance poetry is not a widely recognized art form. I know that when I was introduced to it I was surprised, excited and totally overtaken by its power. It is not a literary reading, it is equally dependent on the performance as it is on the content and to produce this unique relationship the audience must respond to the performer with attention and vigor.  

With all the pieces in place we began to prepare for the show. Between Ginger Ertz (taking over Susi Kerr’s position in her absence) and Susi over the phone, we discussed staging, lighting, equipment and promotion. I created a poster utilizing overlapping speech bubbles to express the importance of speech and communication of the event. We decided on the name SLAM, referring to slam poetry, another name for spoken word usually in a competition context. While it was not intended to be competitive, we thought it was a catchy title that encompassed the goal of the night, to impact students in a new way. The week leading up to the night was a whirlwind of emails to teachers, the tang-list, art-list, creating student announcements, covering the campus with posters and a gigantic poster, requesting promotion on Skidmore Unofficial and organizing contracts for the performers. Last minute I asked Rivkah Gevinson if we could project one of her videos behind the band and pulled together the materials to do so.

I was totally confident in the success of the different components, but still nervous about the attendance level. Do people know what spoken word is? Will people give up a good portion of their night to come to the Tang and engage in something they may not be familiar with? My fears quickly receded as I saw the atrium of the Tang fill up with people way earlier than expected. In no time at all, the seats, floor space and staircase were filled with a couple hundred people. Despite an awkward pause and some technical difficulties, The Universe Project played a great set that filled the room and provoked some of the audience members to get up and dance. Emcee Mike Rosen riled up the audience creating an incredible energy followed by our amazing spoken word poets Kali, Luke and Seth who delivered outstanding performances each with their own style and authority. Finally came Buddy Wakefield. His performance was surprising, jarring, funny, awkward, truthful and powerful, providing a totally new experience for the audience. Even though I’ve seen Buddy once before and viewed many recordings of his performances online, he is able to create a totally new and quirky set each time. He is so dynamic and bizarre and the messages and stories he describes resonate deeply with our communal experience as human beings. It seemed like a really unique and momentous event and I hope that those in attendance felt the same.  I can only begin to explain the profound impact that organizing this event and seeing the tremendous outcome had and will continue to have on me. Seeing 200 + people enraptured for two hours by the event that I constructed from scratch was so thrilling and truly made me feel proud to be a part of and a contributor to the Skidmore community. So many thanks to Susi Kerr for letting me run wild, to Ginger for making all the pieces fit together, to the Thursday Night team for their constant support and to the Tang for allowing students creative freedom. 

Corita Art Day

Last Thursday the Tang celebrated the ongoing Corita Kent exhibit Someday is Now through an all-day extravaganza involving students, faculty, Corita experts, and community members. Events started early in the day, first with a gallery tour held by Ian Berry, Cindy Burlingham, Michael Duncan, and Sasha Carrera, followed by a panel discussion later in the evening. By far the best event of the day was the Corita Art Party, held in the atrium of the Tang. As student staff members we participated throughout the day, attending the panel discussion and joining the arts and crafts events.

It was great to see a large portion of the Skidmore community come together in the spirit of Corita and make their own Corita-inspired collages, shirts, and prints. Sprawled out along the floor, participants used magazine clippings, billboards, and stamps to create Corita boxes, which were later assembled into a structure that now sits in the atrium. Students were also able to create prints and t-shirts using Corita-inspired silk-screening tools. We abided by the Corita Rules while bringing the exhibit alive.

Below you’ll find some photos of the event and all the Corita fun we had!

Student participant with her Corita box!

Megan and Rachel love Corita!

Curatorial Assistant Dylan shows off his Corita-inspired shirt!

Tang student intern assembles the Corita Box structure.

Today, the Tang has the great honor of displaying a 12 x 12 section of the NAMES Project Foundation AIDS Memorial Quilt in the We the People exhibition. For those of you who may not know, this quilt was started in 1987 in San Francisco to remember and honor those who lost their lives to AIDS. Since then, it has been added to by countless families who were affected by the AIDS epidemic, and sections of the 54-ton quilt are now displayed nationwide to spread awareness of and promote reflection on the tragic loss of so many lives. One of the main goals of the quilt is to turn “numbers into names,” and once you see the quilt, there is no denying the impact that seeing so many names stitched into the quilt can have on your perception of AIDS in America. Today, on Valentine’s Day, when we are all especially aware of and grateful for the loved ones in our lives, the quilt’s message is especially powerful. Please take the time to visit the Tang today to view the quilt. It will be on display until 9 PM tonight.

2/14/2013

Class Previews- Spotlight on:

Steve Lambert (1976-)

The Artist

“Steve Lambert’s father, a former Franciscan monk, and mother, an ex-Dominican nun, imbued the values of dedication, study, poverty, and service to others – qualities which prepared him for life as an artist.

“Lambert made international news after the 2008 US election with The New York Times “Special Edition,” a replica of the “paper of record” announcing the end of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and other good news. He has collaborated with groups from the Yes Men to the Graffiti Research Lab and Greenpeace. He is also the founder of the Center for Artistic Activism, the Anti-Advertising Agency, Add-Art (a Firefox add-on that replaces online advertising with art) and SelfControl (which blocks grownups from distracting websites so they can get work done)” (http://visitsteve.com/bio).

His Art in his own words:

“For me, art is a bridge that connects uncommon, idealistic, or even radical ideas with everyday life. I carefully craft various conditions where I can discuss these ideas with people and have a mutually meaningful exchange. Often this means working collaboratively with the audience, bringing them into the process or even having them physically complete the work.

“I want my art to be relevant to those outside the gallery – say, at the nearest bus stop – to reach them in ways that are engaging and fun. I intend what I do to be funny, but at the core of each piece there is also a solemn critique. It’s important to be able to laugh while actively questioning the various power structures at work in our daily lives.

“I have the unabashedly optimistic belief that art changes the way people look at the world. That belief fuels a pragmatic approach to bring about those changes” (http://visitsteve.com/bio).

The Exhibit

            Lambert’s work has focused on many topics and been created through many media, but his recent aluminum and electric sculptures explore consumerism and class with retro glitz and wit.  His enormous Capitalism Works For Me! True/False allows visitors to vote and will likely make a grand first impression outside the Tang’s doors (it is 9 ft. x 20 ft. x 7 ft.).

Capitalism Works For Me! True/False, 2011

            “Starting a conversation about Capitalism is like walking up to a stranger and asking, “Can I talk to you about Jesus?”

“The word “capitalism” is a red flag. And for good reason—pretty soon either some dude is talking your ear off about “The System” or aggressively confronting you about taxes. Ugh.

“At the same time, capitalism is discussed every day using euphemisms like “jobs,” “job creation,” “the business climate,” and discussing whatever “crisis” is deemed relevant; a housing crisis, financial crisis, social security crisis, tax crisis, or fill- in-the blank crisis. But the whole is rarely a topic of frank discussion—much less alternatives or meaningful reform.

“As a culture, we need the vision and boldness it takes to discuss the problem itself. The idea that “there is no alternative” to the way our world works takes away our ability to dream. As citizens we need the courage to begin these discussions on order to move on to new and better visions for the future.

“But what to do? Start a conversation about capitalism and friends edge away slowly, and strangers even faster.

“This is what art is for. This is what art does well. It creates a space where new ideas and perspectives can be explored. A space unlike any other.

Throughout my artistic career I’ve challenged myself to take on difficult subject matter in ways that are engaging and fun. I’ve found humor and popular culture can open doors to difficult but worthwhile subjects and enable us to envision and move toward new, utopian futures…

“I’m excited that this piece takes on what for most Americans is a taboo, or even nonexistent subject: whether global, hegemonic capitalism actually works for most people. But whew, talking about that is boring! And telling people what to think is worse! This sign gets passers by to participate in deceptively simple vote (True/ False) which only pretends to offer resolution. Every aspect of the interaction draws them in to more complex questions and conversations, leading to new thoughts and ideas about a better world!

“For 50 years it has been unacceptable, politically, in the United States to ask what is basically a straightforward question. We have a particular economic system, it’s called capitalism. We have every right as a society to ask of that system, is it working? Is it working for us? Do the benefits and the costs balance themselves out in a way that says, do we want to keep this system? Or that says, we want to change this system? Or that says, we ought to look at an alternative system. We’ve been afraid to ask that question. We’ve been afraid to have public debates—that’s the legacy of the cold war. We can’t afford anymore to not do that. We have to raise the question” (http://visitsteve.com/made/capitalism-works-for-me-truefalse/)

            The video interviews (bottom of webpage) from the tour have now been edited and compiled, and make for a very personal, thoughtful consideration of our capitalist system.  Interviews of Lambert about his work are even available for viewing as well.

It’s About Power, 2009 

            Another of Lambert’s enigmatic, considered pieces that would fit nicely in the upcoming exhibition.

So I realize I never did a follow-up post to my post regarding setting up for my first solo video shoot. Since that time, I’ve had the pleasure of successfully shooting those interviews with members of Class Action for Skidmore Students, editing the footage, and, most recently, creating a montage from the footage of Terry Adkins’s performance of Facet.

The world of shooting video is somewhat more familiar to me than the world of editing. Having assisted with video shoots for a large portion of my time working here at the Tang, I’ve gained a decent amount of experience, and so the interviews I shot for the Class video went fairly smoothly. However, editing is another beast entirely.

Final Cut Pro, being one of the most advanced, specialized, (and mind-blowingly awesome) video editing softwares out there is consequently the most complicated. The simple navigation of the program, I’ve been able to get pretty comfortable with. However, the fine tuning that goes into successfully editing a video takes an extreme amount of practice and know-how. One must take into account not only how clips are organized within the video, but also how they transition, the balancing of audio levels, color correction of each clip, integration of music, credits, and general flow of the video, just to name a few. This is, needless to say, a very time-consuming process, and one that I still need ample practice with. However, the experience with editing that I’ve gained through both editing the Class video and creating a montage of Facet has certainly taught me some things and tested my ability to deal with technology (and my own patience!).

12/6/12

Who remembers my trip to EBI to create drinks for the Terry Adkins music event? Who remembers us fumbling for a name as well? 

Well. It finally happened! The event was moved to November 8th but it was a smashing success. In the end, we chose to name it the Downbeat Lounge . And if you think about it, not only is “Downbeat” the name of a jazz magazine, but it also plays off of the Tang’s summer series, Upbeat on the Roof.  Clever, eh? 

The drinks I settled on were:

-Bessie Smith’s “Blue Philly” mixed with ginger ale and blueberry pomegranate juice

-Jimi Hendrix’s “Machine Gun” mixed with mango juice, cranberry juice, and sprite

-Sam “Lightnin” Hopkins’ “Lightning Strike” mixed with grapefruit juice, ginger ale, lemon juice, and a sprig of mint

-John Coltrane’s “New Blue Thing” mied with black cherry soda, grapefruit juice and lemon juice

-Ludwig Van Beethoven’s “Darker and Stormier” mixed with ginger beer, black cherry juice, and lemon juice 

Here’s a shot of the minibar all set up:

The menus and coasters that you see there are all designed by the incredibly talented Elena Scott who is on the Thursday Nights at the Tang team and is our resident graphic designer!

The next element of the night was of course, the music. Honestly that was the most important part seeing that we were honoring Terry Adkins and his affinity for the blues and avante garde music. 

Four artists performed beginning with:

Fuck You Raptor

(also check out Terry in the red scarf in the back! He showed up and he loved it! )

The Hilarys (sans their guitarist Sarah Brandt)

Peter Oundjian

and Kathleen Fogarty

Each one of the performances added SO much to the night and I am incredibly thankful that all of them participated. I’ll admit that we did scramble a bit to find performers… but this group is more than I could have hoped for and had immense talent. 

Terry Adkin’s exhibition was open the entire night so everyone could peek in and see what the night was all about- that certainly added a nice touch. 

The attendees loved it, the Tang staff loved it, and we even got some praise from a visiting museum! All in all, it was an event that I’m certainly proud of, as is the rest of the team, and I’m so glad we could turn the idea into a reality. 

Who knows, there’s been talk of a second installment of the Downbeat Lounge so we’ll see! 

**special thanks to Andrzej Pilarczyk for all of the photos!

I am currently working on the upcoming Class exhibition, creating web content and possible interactives.  A recent brainstorming session got me thinking about my life in relation to class, so I wanted to share and hear your thoughts too.

Perspectives:

Personal Thoughts on Class Opportunities in the Medical World

            Different classes afford people different opportunities.  Being born to middle class parents started me off with advantages.  And yet, for the enormous impact these advantages have on my life, it’s incredibly easy to forget them, to take this different set point for granted.

            Certainly this is natural—we are always tied to our biology, and thinking about every aspect of my life at all times would be as overwhelming as noticing every speck of dirt on the desk in front of me.  Can’t do it.  But living in a perpetual bubble of ignorance is just as unfortunate an option.

            So, having my attention arrested by a particular anecdote or idea and my focus brought to bear is a surreal and important benefit of researching and working on one topic in depth, like class. 

            The Curatorial Department recently held a small brainstorming session with students in preparation for the upcoming class exhibition.  The discussion prompts related to objects, lifestyle, and consumption habits to investigate what sorts of objects and interactives could be incorporated.  I am going through the various table notes, looking for patterns and investigating what practical ideas could come out of them.  And one bullet point caught my eye:

                        Medical experiences.  Where does one seek medical attention?  How much is expected?  Does a patient challenge the doctor or not?

            I have had health problems since puberty—the miss-30-to-50%-of-your-classtime, chronic-and-interconnected, getting-a-diagnosis-revolutionizes-who-you-are-and-can-be, oh-my-god-these-insurance-people-are-morons-why-can’t-they-do-their-job-correctly, another-specialist?-pick-a-number-buddy, and that-number-can’t-be-right kind of health problems.  So high school was a bit rough for me.

            But what if I were born to a different class?  I think about the hours out of my mother’s and my days just getting to appointments, ordering prescriptions, sitting on hold to fix problems, paperwork, legwork, workwork and I realize how monumental that one little change would be. 

I think about the difference of available time and money, both mine and that of my saintly mother.  And don’t get me started on insurance—tiny computer input errors can steal a dozen hours, a couple hundred dollars, and a month’s worth of proper health.  And even I, in my selfish little bubble, am grateful, on a weekly basis, to have decent insurance coverage at all.  My most important, irreplaceable prescription is an injection I need every three months, and it costs $1800.00.  Per injection. What if that wasn’t covered?  It’s a fear I have had for a long time now—what would I do? 

I think about the expectations we have for my life and options.  We always aim for the cheapest option, but only as long as it works.  And when my doctor doesn’t seem to listen, or I’m not sure about their diagnosis, we get a second opinion.  I speak up.  I research and talk to my mother.  And, having found the right specialist, we haul ourselves into Boston for the appointments even though it’s annoying.  But with all that it has still taken years to suss out underlying conditions, so otherwise I might have never known and just assumed I was sickly, or weak, or my gut overly sensitive.

I think about who I would be if I had been healthy all that time.  And where I might be if I never was as healthy as I am now.  For example, I used to have sleep apnea.  I had a tonsillectomy, which cured it.  Four weeks after surgery, when I was still sore and couldn’t open my mouth properly, I took my second SAT try.  My scores went up 20, 60, and 80 points.  And the only difference was that surgery.

But what about the people are Celiac but can’t afford gluten-free food?  What about the kids whose parents can’t afford to buy them vegetables every day?  Or all those patients skipping medications?

So, what about you?  Have you ever had a moment in your life when your class was brought to the forefront of your life?  When you thought about the disadvantages and advantages presented to you or your family?

While my typical day at the Tang consists of creating viewer guides, I also at times have the opportunity to work with the people who use my guides. Recently, I helped Ginger and the rest of the education crew lead tours for French foreign exchange students, young adults with special needs, high school art classes, and elementary students.

Despite helping run Family Saturdays during my freshman and sophomore years, which required diligent VTS (aka Visual Thinking Skills—if you want to know everything you ever wanted to know about this, ask Ginger), I am (as a senior) now a bit rusty. After seeing Ginger work her VTS magic with one group and lead a quick tour sans VTS with another, she then asked Melissa (a fellow Ginger/education girl recently graduated from Skidmore) and I to lead a group of 9^th graders on our own! Melissa wasn’t too familiar with the current exhibitions and I could not remember the last time I had led VTS, but after about 10 minutes of prep, we just dove right in. Also, I am not sure if you have ever met with a group of 9^th graders, but they are not a very chatty bunch. Nevertheless, it ended up being the perfect combination because Melissa had more practice at VTS, while I could chime in with the background information.

The following week, I was in the same situation, this time helping Karen lead a group of 10^th- and 11^th-grade art students. Combining our strengths, the tour went well—possibly a bit better since older high school students seem a bit more willing to talk.  

I found a trend among all of these disparate groups—they love the elevator. Whatever sounds the elevator presents mesmerize kids, families, and students of all ages. This is what I enjoy about my job at the Tang:  while I feel gratified making viewer guides, it’s also a nice break from working on the computer to actually work with the types of people who use my guides and see to what they are drawn, what questions they ask. It even sparks new ideas and activities that I can put in my guides. These two components of my job that seem so distinct are actually intertwined and complement each other.

12/2/12 

Sup, Blog.

Long time no write, huh? It’s been quite a while since you’ve heard from me. I know it’s been rough on you — it’s been pretty difficult for me as well. What’s been going on in my life? Well, it’s funny that you ask.

Last Thursday, I conducted a gallery talk through my exhibition As the Night the Day — a show investigating darkness and its relationship with light, conceptions of darkness, and its subversion in the images selected.

Let’s backtrack a little bit though. So, about two months ago, I was given the opportunity to organize my own exhibition on the mezzanine kind of like what Nina did over the summer. Needless to say, I was as ecstatic as my monotonous voice could convey.

My first step was to look through approximately 3,500 collections images. It took me about one or two perusals of each image to find a good system for actually extracting the images that could be useful in creating an exhibition. (Fun fact: Contrary to popular belief, the word “peruse” does NOT mean to casually skim something. It actually means to take a close look at something. The more you know!) Although I didn’t have any real ideas for a show, I went through the images and wrote down the name and accession number of each work that I liked. Yes, I know, using the verb ‘like’ is not very descriptive. It’s true though. I just picked works that I liked — things that were simply aesthetically or conceptually appealing to me.

I then looked at all of the works that I had selected and tried to find commonalities between them. My goal was to create rough outlines for about three or four shows from these pieces. After staring at the images for a while, doing some more staring, and typing up proposals, I had actually come up with three and a half (the half was not fully formed) ideas that I was ready to propose. At the end of this process, a theme was chosen that eventually became the exhibition that is currently on the walls of the mezzanine.

To make a long story short, I did some (lots of) research on the artists, made models, wrote wall text, wrote some more wall text, lamented the fact that writing wall text was the most difficult thing ever, finally got the wall text right, looked at the actual works in the space, shuffled some things around, eliminated a piece (sad face), and took a bunch of installation pictures like a proud parent. It was truly amazing seeing what started as an idea on paper transform into something concrete and tangible. Well, maybe not tangible. It’s not that kind of exhibition. But definitely concrete and absolutely real. Although I had fancied myself an aspiring curator for quite some time leading up to this event, I had never curated anything real. This opportunity allowed me to confirm my desire to pursue curation as a career. Putting together As the Night the Day was a truly engaging, intellectually stimulating, and overall very fun experience.

Anyway, about my gallery talk. Not gonna lie, it was kind of terrifying. Just kind of though. Although public speaking is not my favorite thing in the world, knowing exactly what I wanted to say made me feel more comfortable. Also, side note, there was sushi at the little reception thing. And black and white cookies. Too good.

So yeah. That’s my life.

Bis später,

Dylan

Class Previews- Spotlight on:

Benny Andrews (1930-2006)

The Artist

            “Benny Andrews, nationally recognized as an artist, teacher, author, activist, and advocate of the arts, grew up in rural Morgan County.  Although he moved to New York in 1958, his formative years in Georgia continued to inform his work. Andrews explored American life in his collages, prints, paintings, and drawings by fusing memory and imagination.

            “Andrews was born on November 13, 1930, in Plainview, a small farming community three miles from Madison. His mother, Viola, instilled in her ten children the importance of education, religion, and freedom of expression; his father, George, a self-taught artist, fueled their creativity with his drawings and illustrations. Although the entire family worked in the cotton fields as sharecroppers, Viola Andrews was adamant that her children attend school. Andrews’s attendance was sporadic because he went only when he wasn’t needed in the fields or when it rained.

“After several years at Plainview Elementary School, Andrews walked to Madison to attend Burney Street High School, and in 1948 he was the first member of his family to graduate. A two-year scholarship awarded by the 4-H Club enabled him to enroll at Fort Valley State College (later Fort Valley State University) in Fort Valley. The only art course offered was a single class in art appreciation, which Andrews took six times. By 1950, with the end of the scholarship money and with poor grades, Andrews left school and enlisted in the U.S. Air Force. After four years of military duty, which spanned the Korean War (1950-53), Andrews was honorably discharged. He used the G.I. Bill to fund a portion of his studies at the Art Institute of Chicago in Illinois.

“When Andrews arrived at the Art Institute of Chicago in the fall of 1954, he had never visited an art museum nor had a formal art lesson. His distinctive figurative style developed from his childhood habits. Andrews and his brother Raymond, who became a novelist, saved illustrations from newspapers, magazines, and comic books, which Andrews then copied. He created original drawings based on the observed gestures and expressions of those around him or from memories of characters he saw at the movies. With an economy of lines and elongated figures, he emphasized gesture and subtle expression.

“During this period Andrews experimented with collage both as a way to incorporate a three-dimensional element in a two-dimensional medium and in an effort to create rawness and tension within his work. He was inspired by artwork at the Art Institute of Chicago and by the people he saw on the streets and in the jazz clubs. His work took on a singular style, which defies categorization but shows the influences of the dominant movements of the 1950s, abstract expressionism and surrealism, as well as the dominant movements of the 1930s and early 1940s, social realism and the American Scene.

“Andrews left Chicago in 1958 after he was awarded a bachelor of fine arts degree. His work had been rejected from every art show at the institute, including the veterans’ exhibition, which had a single exhibition requirement—military service. He left for New York City.

“Within his first six years of residence in New York, Andrews became an established artist… He became part of the art scene, met other practicing artists, sketched people in the jazz clubs, and worked out of his studio. He also tended to his three young children while his wife worked outside of their home.

“In the next decades Andrews’s artwork was exhibited nationally and internationally; he taught at Queens College of the City University of New York for twenty-nine years; and he was a visiting lecturer at many colleges and universities across the country. He became a leading spokesperson for artists whose works were not considered for exhibition in the large public institutions in New York. He was a cofounder of the Black Emergency Cultural Coalition in 1969 and led both protests and negotiations in order to bring awareness and inclusion of work by minority and women artists into major collections and exhibitions. Andrews wrote articles, curated exhibitions, and established an art program in the New York state prison system, which served as a model for other similar programs throughout the country. He and his second wife, the artist Nene Humphrey, established the Benny Andrews Foundation, which aims to introduce art to as vast and diverse an audience as possible.

“Although Andrews dealt with such difficult subjects as slavery, the Holocaust, and the American response to revolt and war, his figurative expressionistic style celebrates the human spirit and the pursuit of the American Dream” (www.georgiaencyclopedia.org).

The Exhibit

            Andrew’s focus on people and their stories fits well into the upcoming exhibition—his piece, on long-term loan from Marlene and Alan Gilbert, depicts the rarely-mentioned Savannah Credit Card Protest in restrained yet exuberant colors, and gestural clarity.

Savannah’s Credit Card Protest, 2004

oil, fabric, and paper collage on paper

His Art in his own words:

            “ ‘I paint and draw things from my imagination, which is filled with bits and pieces of experiences that I’ve lived, juxtaposed with what I’m experiencing now, and projecting what I feel will happen in the future.

While I make works of a lot of subjects, such as still lifes and landscapes, I’m really interested in doing works of people. To me, everything revolves around the individual. A successful work of a person or people is one that evokes some kind of emotion. I want my images of people to give off a feeling of being real. By real, I don’t mean rendering them photographically, but rather something more abstract, something more than what the viewer usually sees.

My subject matter is very broad, and I am very inclusive of whom I depict, although I do have a large representation of African-Americans in a high percentage of my works. Often, it’s not their race that I’m presenting, but rather what they are doing. I’m also very responsive to people who reflect their lives in their work and leisure.

When I depict the affluent, it’s often from the position of my being outside of their world, and I try to depict that perspective in how I represent them. In short, I’m a people’s painter’ “ (www.artnet.com).

[Note: I apologize for the length, but the Georgia Encyclopedia summary is very well written, detailing a long, interesting life without feeling bogged down.   It seemed a shame to truncate.  All italics and bolds within quotations added by me.]