Sandow Birk's "American Qur'an"

Thoughts on Sandow Birk’s American Qur’an

I’ve been mulling over Sandow Birk’s epic project: a fully illustrated version of the Qur’an on display currently at the Orange County Museum of Art.  Some 300 pages are on display—somewhere between a graphic novel and an illuminated manuscript.   Graffiti and comics are a big part of the imagery.  The consistency and pure invention on this scale is mind boggling.

First off, it is amazing.  A wonder.  And what an what a way to approach such an enormous subject!  It depicts the everyday experiences of American life in the borders of the pages of this Qur’an, each verse transcribed by hand.  

I’m not sure what possessed him to take this on, and to apply the visual banality of everyday LA life to verses of the Qur’an.  If the goal was to make it more accessible, it did— but to what end?  If the goal was to shed light with some sort of correlation between the text and his images, only rarely could I make a connection.  Perhaps the goal was to present something bigger than the artist, bigger than all of us, to remind us of that sense of awe before the divine.  We can see our daily lives for the minutia that we occupy ourselves with, totally separate from the spiritual heights of godliness.  In his work there appeared no joy in this life.  Duty, yes.  Happiness, no.  I felt totally drained after the exhibit.  It was too much.

All that said, perhaps the way to appreciate American Qur'an is one page at a time, in book form.  Pick it up, read a verse, and contemplate the daily goings on of whatever is happening in the pictures.  You might take that verse with you through the day, digest it like a healthy vegetable, and enjoy the benefits.  But all at once, it was too much.  

I love Sandow’s work, and I look at this show with tremendous admiration.  I just didn’t have the ability to digest it in one go.  I look forward to having some time with work in book form.

My Taste in Art?

My taste in art.. That is the question at hand: what shaped my taste in art?  Sort of a problematic question--

I guess influences would be the most interesting way to describe this, but it is not quite complete.  I have a taste for Lalique Jewelry, but this is not really an influence.  Or I love Takashi Murakami and Robert Irwin, though I would not call them influences.  I will do my best, bear with me, here goes:

My earliest influence would be my father and his figure drawing cohorts in Palo Alto.  This was classic Bay Area Figurative, influenced by Olivera and Diebenkorn. The drawings were all over the house.  My earliest memories are of a house with those large female forms, pastel or ink, on every wall in the house.  As a young child I would go sometime to his life drawing group-- a bunch of bohemians drawing and drinking wine.  And little me.

Then came middle school and high school and drawing comics.  Frank Miller.  Mike Zeck.  Katsuhiro Otomo.

My freshmen year of high school was my first trip to Italy, and we went through the major art highpoints on the Grand Tour stops.  Somewhere between Fra Angelico's Annunciation at San Marco and walking into the Sistine Chapel I realized, deep down, I want to be part of this.

I went to the Prado for the first time when I was 16.  I've been back many times, but I think the first time leaves you struck by the total command of paint by someone like Velazquez-- who can freeze time in a painting like Las Meninas, but make the magic trick look like it was dashed off, like the painting is being created before your eyes.

I have a profound taste for this sort of painting, a work that seems to paint itself before your eyes-- Deibenkorn also has it.  And Matisse.  And Morandi.

Gustave Caillebotte, Study for Paris, Rainy Day

In college I was influenced by the draughtsman of the Italian Renaissance.  I copied many original drawings in the Gabineto of the Uffizzi-- Bernini, Bronzino, etc.  Also during college, I saw a huge Caillebotte show at the Art Institute in Chicago.  Looking back now, Paris, Rainy Day and The Floorscrapers along with all the accompanying studies in the exhibition influenced me a great deal.


When I moved to New York a couple years after college, that was when I feel my tastes expanded and my eye became more sophisticated.  It was an eclectic frenetic absorption of new art-- not just current art but also historical art that was new to me.  I saw epic shows and tiny happenings: I fell at once for Ingres and Twombly.  Jenny Saville and Tim Hawkinson.  Uta Barth, Barry McGee.  Chardin, Morandi, Yuskavage and Guston.

Philip Guston, Zone, 1953

More recently my wife, painter Judy Nimtz, has opened up my taste in 19th Century painting.  There were always painters I admired from this period like Corot, but now I find myself delighting in Albert Moore, puzzling over Leighton, and generally allowing myself to indulge in the pure pleasure of looking at this period of painting.  My desire to look at Matisse is waning, in favor of my compulsion to inspect more traditional 19th century paintings.  I feel I still have the taste for Modernist painting, but I would rather look at a Puvis or an Arnold Bocklin than a Cezanne.

So, those are some of my formative influences.  Blend 'em all together and you get this:

The beginnings of a painting.. [rough cut]

Working in Istanbul

We are now in the flow of Istanbul.. and by in the flow I mean
watching it flow by us. From our balcony we've been taking in the
comings and goings of the Bosphorus, the clouds parting, and the
lights twinkling on. Plein-air painting in a city can be tough--
packing up your rig, hiking through the city, and often setting up in
a spot where others are seeking the view too. So we sometimes hole
up and work from the 'home studio'.

That said, we've been taking in the city. We went to the oldest
Hamam (bath) in the city, built 1584, to see the spectacle of the
Turkish Bath. We explored the Grand Bazar, as well as Arasta Bazar.
Judy and I have also had fun getting to know our neighborhood well.
It has a great feel-- full of artists and directors and such. Nice
little restaurants. Sometimes it is like a parallel 'cool' universe
to Silverlake or some other industry neighborhood. Except everyone
speaks Turkish (which, by the way, is really to tough to learn).

I've been working on a painting of the local fruit stand. After a
few days of working, I became sort of a fixture on the scene.. people
would stop to say hi, poke their heads out of a window offering tea,
roll me a cigarette.. pretty funny. or ask why their flower shop was
not in the painting... Once people here see you as a local (even if
it is for a week) they open up. We've also been working on a couple
paintings near the Blue Mosque. Again, a more touristy area, but
once the local cafe recognized us we were welcomed like locals
(permit me my delusions).

Mostly it is just painting, cooking, eating, watching. What the
doctor ordered.

Love from Istanbul
Kenny

(pics-- Painting at Blue Mosque, Local cafe "Cuppa", Judy painting
down the street from the flat, morning 'commute')

First entry from Istanbul

We arrived in Istanbul 6 days ago after a week in London.

The London leg was full of art museums and jet lag. We stayed in central London, walking almost everywhere. We hit the major museums like the National and the British, the Waterhouse show at the Royal Academy, and the Tate Britain. Smaller collections stood out like the Wallace Collection and the Cortauld. And an amazing little museum of the Sir John Soane house was a stunner-- his residence, full of antiques and casts of roman and marble sculpture, an Egyptian sarcophagus, turner paintings, etc. We aslo checked out Elizabeth Peyton at Whitechapel and the BP portrait award a the Nat'l Portrait Gallery-- both shows seemed a bit flat... as in "how many ways can we paint a photo?"
And a side note: Artrace started airing in UK four weeks ago on SkyArts. An employee at the National Portrait Gallery actually recognized me from the show.. bizarre!

With art-saturation reached, we flew to Istanbul. They've had really wet weather with bad flooding in the past few weeks, so it was no surprise to see heavy skies and passing showers when arrived. We found our way to the flat by taxi and it didn't look like much from the outside. It is quite plain on the inside, but what it does have is the view of the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn overlooking the Hagia Sophia, Blue Mosque and the Topkapi Palace... stunning. We just sit and look over the water to the old city, contemplate
paintings yet to come.

Judy and I have spent our days painting, exploring our neighborhood, and more painting. It has been perfect. We've even started a couple portraits of each other.
It has only been a week since we landed in Turkey and I feel like we're just settling in. We've been very slow on the tourist thing here.. we have time for that. So we take the city in small bites, and digest through observation in oil. We didn't bring phones and I'm happy for it.

More later on thoughts on Istanbul.. back to the easel...

Kenny

pics of the balcony and the Blue Mosque

I don't have great photos from the opening as I was scrambling around
setting it up. If some come in, I'll post them.
thanks to everyone..
k

Final Show

I'm writing this four and half months late.

I couldn't wrap my head around finishing the last blog. I was exhausted and needed a break. Not to mention immediately following this break I plunged into the paintings for my November exhibition based on the trip. I just now finished up those paintings, so I'm returning for my last blog entry.

Suffice to say we had a 2-day mad scramble to get the final show prepared. After running all the canvases and some drawings to my framer, we headed to the printer to talk photos. Ian, our cameraman, had shot a bunch of photos from the journey (many of which are on this blog) which we used as a sort of photo diary to accompany the art. In addition, I put up the map I used to navigate, and traced in red Sharpie the path across the country. We also included the pack and easel I brought with me.

What I tried to do was to share with my friends and supporters that came to the show a bit of the experiences of the trip. I hoped the paintings and the photos together would tell a good story.

With the help of the crew (when they weren't filming) and a few close friends, I franticly went about arranging the chronology, and mounting the show. We had cardboard hitchhiking signs I has used along the way, mounted drawings on matte board, framed oils, and two big signs explaining the journey to all who came through the doors.

When the evening rolled around I had just changed, and my friends started arriving. More and more came and I was very touched as friends and art supporters from all corners came out to see what in the heck I had been up to. My parents even came down from the Bay Area. A friend of Levi (ride outta Grand Canyon) named Ira rolled in by train from Norther California just for the show not knowing anyone. Everyone was so excited about the trip and the presentation-- I guess there really was a lot to take in, both the narrative and the art itself.

And they bought work! I sold almost all of the paintings and drawings I had for sale, thought it wasn't that much as I'd traded most of it.

At the end of the night I was called up to say a little something publicly. Sebastian, our producer got up and said a few words, and when I got up to speak it was overwhelming. All the faces just radiated love and support at me, it was pretty incredible. I said some words of thanks, and then came the final event... the envelopes to see who had won the Art Race.


.. but I'm afraid I can't say who won... it would not be fair to the show or the viewers at home....

We did however party till the wee hours in celebration of the end of the Road. A true catharsis.

I won't speak any more on it, but I will say the experience was remarkable. I will process it in time to come. I don't know when it will air, but I'm sure it will be a sort of closure for me.

Thanks to everyone who helped me along the way, and to those who, by reading this, joined in on this Art-trip across the United States...

that is all from venice
good night.

Kenny