New Inspiration

We spent all day yesterday in the first of our graduate seminars during the residency. We’re being taught by Vera Iliatova who stressed the importance of educating ourselves on contemporary artists. The afternoon was spent looking at a slide presentation of artists she hand selected for each of us to consider. This was such a great insight into both how she viewed our individual practice and to how she processes and categorizations art. Many of the connections went beyond content and were to do with application of material and how to address the pictorial space.

Here are three contemporary artists she brought to my attention.

Jackie Gendel

I’m lucky to have worked with Jackie over the past year, so I am very familiar with her work. She was such a positive influence on my artistic development and I know I will continue to gain so much by looking at her work. She’s an incredible painter and will be part of a two person show at Horton Gallery in New York opening June 19.

Night Portrait, 2010. Oil on cavas ©Jackie Gendel

Night Portrait, 2010. Oil on cavas ©Jackie Gendel

Installation view from Revenge of the Same at Jeff Bailey Gallery © Jackie Gendel

Installation view from Revenge of the Same at Jeff Bailey Gallery © Jackie Gendel

Swim Club, 2009. Oil on canvas © Jackie Gendel

Swim Club, 2009. Oil on canvas © Jackie Gendel

Maya Bloch

Maya Bloch lives and works in Tel Aviv, but recently had a solo show in New York at Thierry Goldberg Gallery in the Lower East Side.  Sadly I missed that show, but will be on the look out if her work comes back to New York in the next few years. She seems to have a clear influence from Marlene Dumas, but with more saturated color.

img-maya-bloch_115722473745.jpg_standalone MayaBloch mayabloch

Helen Verhoeven

Helen Verhoeven splits her time between The Hague and New York City. She will be part of the Summer Show at Wallspace opening June 27, and it will be great to see her work in person. I am interested in the way her figures exist in space and the way she builds each piece. (Images taken from her website)

The Thingly Character IV, acrylic on canvas, 190 x 310 cm, 2010

The Thingly Character IV, acrylic on canvas, 190 x 310 cm, 2010

A Tragic Taste for Birk Bruski, oil on canvas, 100 x 120 cm, 2011

A Tragic Taste for Birk Bruski, oil on canvas, 100 x 120 cm, 2011

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Taking responsibility for the image

I’ve just come off of two days filled with group critiques, so I thought I would share some common themes that popped up during the discussions.

Value of Curation

When presenting your work it’s critical to think through the themes present and to consider how you want the viewer to experience your art. So often critiques became hinged on the placement of paintings because care was not taken to create a dialog within the work. Art changes with the context of the surroundings, so it is essential to know why you hang two pieces next to each other and on which wall. As artists, we may not be fully aware of what our work is really about, so it’s important to experiment and rearrange your work until the display flows for the viewer. This is also essential when submitting a digital application. You always arrange your files to be viewed exactly as you intend.

Intentionality 

Take responsibility for your paintings. When someone asks you why you chose to create an image the way you did, saying “I don’t know” doesn’t cut it. It’s ok to not know the full psychological depth of those decisions, but there was a reason you did it. The answer can be as simple as “I wanted to see what happened if I painted the face green rather than skin toned,” or “I like boats and was attracted to this particular sail.” It’s important to be aware of your motivations, and exploration is what art is about. We must challenge ourselves to look at our work critically and push beyond the absent minded painter. You don’t need to over intellectualize your work, but you do need intentionality. Be hard on yourself. Not everything you make has to be special.

Leave something for the viewer

Great art holds back. You want the viewer to be able to bring his own energy to the work and complete it in his mind. If all the thoughts are there and spelled out then there will be nothing left for the viewer to discover. It’s more interesting, as a viewer, when you can’t fully understand how a work was made. It’s through that desire and curiosity to know that discovery happens. I felt this way when I went and saw Inventing Abstraction at MoMA. I had never seen the Russian Constructavists’ work in person, and when I was confronted with Malevich’s paintings, I was blown away. They didn’t look at all how I imagined they would from the photographs I had seen. There were so many nuances to discover that I stood in front of those works for minutes on end completely lost in the paint. It was the unpolished, unfinished quality that drew me in and kept me engaged. It’s important to remember that it takes time and many ‘overworked’ paintings to find that balance to create something that can sustain a viewer over time.

Cropped bodies

At the last meeting I had with my mentor, we discussed the appropriate way to crop the body in an image. One of the best things my mentor has taught me over the past 8 months is to be more aware and purposeful in my image making. I don’t have much classical training, so I will often ‘wing it’ when it comes to composition and scale. Intuition is extremely important in art, but so is planning. My paintings often feature a figure that is cropped in some way. It’s rare that a full figure makes it onto my canvas, and, before this meeting, I hadn’t really thought about why. It just sort of ends up that way. She and I spent a long time going through the work of Munch and Braque to see how each artist dealt with the cropped body in his paintings. What struck me the most was how classical Munch really was in his compositions.

"Separation" ("Løsrivelse") from 1896 is among Edvard Munch's works on display this summer at Oslo's Munch Museum. PHOTO: Munch Museum

“Separation” (“Løsrivelse”) from 1896 is among Edvard Munch’s works on display this summer at Oslo’s Munch Museum. PHOTO: Munch Museum

Take this image above by Munch called “Separation”. My mentor and I discussed how the man has been cropped around the knees while the woman is shown in full. This gives the viewer a sense of perspective – the man is closer to us than the woman. We also looked at the structure of this image on the whole. It’s a rectangular canvas with the two figures standing parallel to each other and to a tree. This gives three parallel forms to anchor the image. The woman’s hair floats behind her connecting to the male figure in an almost straight line. This creates a rectangle formed by the two figures. The woman’s dress gets enveloped by the shore curving from the bottom right toward the center and then spiraling back into her shoulder. The red plant at the man’s feet creates the counter balance for this shoreline making two diagonals within the rectangle of the figures. Visually it controls the viewers eye and keeps the viewer within this rectangle, feeling the tension of the forms who face opposite directions and are moving away from each other, yet simultaneously they are being pulled back and held together by the plant and the shoreline criss crossing between them.

My mentor pointed out how, as an artist, you must think with each figure about how it moves into or out of the space and why. So now I am looking at images in new ways. Why do artists or photographers crop the body in a certain way? Does it work? Why or why not?

Here are some images featuring cropped bodies that I thought were engaging.

George Braque. Figure, 1939. Color lithograph

George Braque. Figure, 1939. Color lithograph

George Braue. Tete de femme.

George Braue. Tete de femme.

Edvard Munch. Kiss. Etching

Edvard Munch. Kiss. Etching

Edvard Munch. Madonna, 1894-95.

Edvard Munch. Madonna, 1894-95.

Marlene Dumas. 'Purple Pose', 1997. lithograph

Marlene Dumas. ‘Purple Pose’, 1997. lithograph

Henri Toulouse-Lautrec. Then Medical Inspection.

Henri Toulouse-Lautrec. Then Medical Inspection.

Marlene Dietrich, New York, 1948  National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. Gift of Irving Penn © Condé Nast Publications, Inc.

Marlene Dietrich, New York, 1948
National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. Gift of Irving Penn
© Condé Nast Publications, Inc.

Patrick Demarchelier

Patrick Demarchelier

Patrick Demarchelier

Patrick Demarchelier

Provincetown

Tomorrow I leave the city behind and head toward Cape Cod for my month long residency at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, MA. This is the residency portion of my low residency MFA that is through MassArt in conjunction with the Work Center in Ptown. I’m sad to miss May in Brooklyn because Spring is one of the best times to be in the city. I feel as though everyone has woken from a deep sleep and is emerging to enjoy all that the city has to offer. I am looking forward to the change of pace, though. Ptown will still be a little slow and not so overrun with tourists. It will be a wonderful way to escape the normal hectic day to day and fully focus on my art. There will be a number of studio visits with notable artists including Gregory Amenoff, Vera Iliatova, Jim Peters, and George Creamer.

My studio at the work center

My studio at the work center above the print shop

Ptown has long been associated with artists – it even touts itself as the oldest continuous art colony – so I’m gonna pay homage to a few notable artists that have lived, or simply passed through, this town.

Edward Hopper. It should come as no surprise that Hopper would be at the top of this list. He and his wife had a house in South Truro and spent Summers there for most of his later life.

Edward Hopper. Cape Cod Evening, 1939. Oil on canvas

Edward Hopper. Cape Cod Evening, 1939. Oil on canvas

Edward Hopper. October on Cape Cod, 1946. Oil on canvas

Edward Hopper. October on Cape Cod, 1946. Oil on canvas

Ellen Gallagher spent two years as a FAWC Fellow from 1995-1997. I am a big fan of her work, so it’s exciting to know that she has spent time in this community.

Ellen Gallagher. Bird in Hand, 2006. ©Ellen Gallagher

Ellen Gallagher. Bird in Hand, 2006. ©Ellen Gallagher

Agnes Weinrich was a founding member of the Provincetown Printers in 1915. She developed a style of printmaking that lent itself to cubist images.

Agnes Weinrich. Fish Shacks, 1936. Wood block print.

Agnes Weinrich. Fish Shacks, 1936. Wood block print.

Ross Moffett was one of the first modernists to teach art in Provincetown. He studied under Charles Hawthorne, who had an impressionist approach to painting.

Roff Moffett

Ross Moffett

Edwin Dickinson recently had a retrospective at PAAM. He spent most of his life on the Cape and was another influential painter that studied under Hawthorne. I love both of these paintings. His use of color is amazing, and I love the texture created by his brushstrokes.

Edwin Dickinson Landsacape

Edwin Dickinson Landsacape

Edwin Dickinson. Self Portrait, 1914. Oil on canvas

Edwin Dickinson. Self Portrait, 1914. Oil on canvas

In the 1940s and 50s Provincetown became a Summertime center for AbEx artists such as Jackson Pollock, Lee Krasner, Motherwell, and Helen Frankenthaler.

Lee Krasner and Jackson Pollock in Provincetown. Photographer unknown.

Lee Krasner and Jackson Pollock in Provincetown. Photographer unknown.

Marisa Merz

After spending an afternoon in Chelsea, it takes some time (days even) to reflect on all the shows that I saw. The current exhibit at Barbara Gladstone Gallery is one of those that I keep coming back to in my mind, so I will definitely go back for a second visit. It’s a solo show of Marisa Merz’s work. She was born in Turin, Italy and was part of the Arte Povera movement, a term coined by the Italian critic Germano Celant, that took place in the late 1960s-early 1970s. This exhibit has both early and new works. The show is at the W 24th street location, and will be running until June 8, 2013.

From the press release:

Using abstracted, organic forms, Merz creates intimate portraits and sculptures that insist on subjectivity and ever-shifting meaning, espousing her belief that every shape must be capable of transforming into another shape. Merz attests that she draws no distinction between her art and her life, and her work advances a critical framework that draws on traditional customs associated with female domesticity, using craft techniques and unconventional materials to explore the infinite possibilities of the everyday. Throughout Merz’s oeuvre, the figure of the face emerges – a symbol of the eternal human spirit. Composed of fleeting arabesque lines, Merz’s figures are disconnected from any social or narrative context. Instead, each reveals a ghostly configuration of abstracted features that defy expressions of individual identity, fixing each form in a state of suspended time.

(All images taken from Barbara Gladstone’s website)

Installation view

Installation view

Merz, Marisa. Untitled, 1966. Graphite on paper. 166 x 150 cm

Merz, Marisa. Untitled, 1966. Graphite on paper. 166 x 150 cm

Merz, Marisa. Untitled, 2012. Mixed media on wood. 25 x 25 cm

Merz, Marisa. Untitled, 2012. Mixed media on wood. 25 x 25 cm

Merz, Marisa. Untitled, 2010. Mixed media on paper. 255.3 x 156.2 cm

Merz, Marisa. Untitled, 2010. Mixed media on paper. 255.3 x 156.2 cm

Outsider Art

A couple of weeks ago I went to see the Outsider Art exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The exhibition is fantastic, but what I couldn’t shake was this doubt about the term “outsider art”. According to Dictionary.com “outsider art” is defined as “art produced by self-taught artists who are not part of the artistic establishment.” I can get behind that definition. The phrase was coined in 1972 by art critic Roger Cardinal, and it is the English adaption of art brut, a French term meaning “rough art” or “raw art” first used by artist Jean Dubuffet. He defined such artists as those living outside the realm of the contempoarary art world- including art from inmates and insane-asylums. Most of the artists in the PMA exhibit were self taught and lived beyond the mainstream of the art world. It’s challenging, though, because the viewer is experiencing the work within a mainstream art institution. Does this very fact change the way the art should be perceived. Does that not place their work within a conversation with the rest of the art world? Context is everything in art. How would my understanding of the pieces change if I came across them in those contexts in which they were made? Most of these artists were discovered posthumously, but what about those artists still alive and creating work? Even though the label says outsider, the work has been brought inside. Perhaps those artists are simply unaware or uninterested in the conversations happening in the art world.

I also couldn’t help but notice how male dominated the exhibit was. It made me wonder if female “outsider art” gets labeled, instead, as “craft” which demotes it from the realm of “fine art” all together. Where were the quilters of Gee’s Bend? Or Aloïse Corbaz, a Swiss woman included in Jean Dubuffet’s original catalog of outsider artists? This particular exhibit was dedicated to the collection of Jill and Sheldon Bonovitz, so there will inevitably be holes, but the fact remains that it’s a thin line between what we consider craft and what we consider outsider art. I would speculate that female artists, more often than not, end up stuck in the craft classification rather than elevated to fine art status.

Regardless of these questions, the work in the show is excellent. The flow of the exhibition works well, and the museum did a good job highlighting each individual artist while also tying together common threads.

In the first room Eugene Von Bruenchenhein was featured, which set the tone for the show. Not only were his chicken bone thrones just what you hoped to see from an outsider artist, but his manifesto was also intriguing. The write up on him said they found this on a plaque hanging in his kitchen:

Eugene Von Bruenchenhein
Free Lance Artist
Poet and Sculptor
Inovator [sic]
Arrow Maker and Plant Man
Bone Artifacts Constructor
Photographer and Architect
Philosopher

I love the simplicity of that statement. It made me want to write my own 8 line manifesto (will do in a later post).

My highlights:

James Castle, Untitled (Pitcher, Side, and Pitcher, Back)

James Castle, Untitled (Pitcher, Side, and Pitcher, Back)

Howard Finster - detail

Howard Finster – detail of one of his paintings

Eddie Arning, Untitled.

Eddie Arning, Untitled.

Purvis Young

Purvis Young

Friday Five

I finally made it back to Chelsea this week, and here are my favorite shows.

Joshua Marsh: As If  (Jeff Bailey Gallery March 29 – May 4)

From the press release:

Strong color and the play of light dominate Marsh’s paintings, slowly revealing simple objects. Color functions as form, while objects and their surroundings border on dissolution.

Pitchers, tables, dustpans and brooms serve as subjects, but it is through their shapes, shadows and changing perspectives that Marsh pushes them into altogether different realms. The curves of pitchers suggest bodies; the interplay of other objects evokes openings and closings, solids and voids. Distinctions between what is observed and imagined break down, and being and appearance are as if equals

Installation view ©Joshua Marsh

Installation view ©Joshua Marsh

marsh_broom_13_30x18

Joshua Marsh, Broom. 2013, oil on panel, 30 x 18 inches ©Joshua Marsh

marsh_pitcher_12_28x20_400 2

Joshua Marsh, Pitcher. 2012, oil on panel, 28 x 20 inches ©Joshua Marsh

Vera Iliatova: Days of Never (Monya Rowe Gallery, CLOSING APRIL 27)

From the press release:

Vera Iliatova’s new paintings eschew the logic of gravity and
classical composition for more visually complex spatial grounds
born out of painterly abstraction. Gone are the signifiers of
stability: the park-like settings with clear views of the city, the
carefully modulated color schemes and naturalistic light, the
poussinesque compositions. We used to see Watteau, Balthus,
Claude Lorraine in the paintings. Now Mitchell, Stettheimer and
Salomon loom like a gathering storm. The paintings are full of
painterly delectation, as we have come to expect, but at the
service of more transgressive beauty. These women (like
Mitchell, Stettheimer, Salomon themselves) traverse
increasingly tumultuous territories of pleasure. These are the
days of never. Now one leads the way, then another. “Onward!
And Onward! And Onward I go, where no man before could be
bothered to go.”

– George Rush, 2013

Vera Iliatova Let Themselves Be Sad Songs, 2013 oil on canvas 24 by 18 inches

Vera Iliatova
Let Themselves Be Sad Songs, 2013
oil on canvas
24 by 18 inches

Three Point Turn: Robert Bordo (Alexander and Bonin CLOSING APRIL 27)

From the press release:

Some of these works seek to balance formal concerns relating to color and mass with the symbolic resonance of dirt, mounds, and hills. Others depict the landscape as it is obscured through the windows of a moving car, employing the metaphors of compressed time and distorted memory. Through these recent paintings we see the artist’s increasing interest in allegory, particularly by way of the intercession of objects; a shovel in one mound, a crown on another. Both Dial, 2012 and the evocatively titled The Future, 2012 are effectively obliterated by crescent-shaped swipes, reminiscent of a car’s windshield wiper; the mechanism meant to clear one’s view becomes a vehicle of complexity and commentary. In this way, the landscape comes to resemble its mediation – having been manipulated and enclosed by the viewer in its midst.

Robert Bordo DWI  2012 oil on linen 45 x 55 in/114 x 140 cm photo:  Joerg Lohse

Robert Bordo
DWI 2012
oil on linen
45 x 55 in/114 x 140 cm
photo: Joerg Lohse

Robert Bordo Mogul  2012 oil on canvas 54 x 66 in/137 x 167.5 cm photo:  Joerg Lohse

Robert Bordo
Mogul 2012
oil on canvas
54 x 66 in/137 x 167.5 cm
photo: Joerg Lohse

Atlas, Kahrs, Mucha, Whiteread (Luhring Augustine CLOSING APRIL 27)

There was really just one piece that I liked in this show, and it was the video installation by Charles Atlas. The piece features Leigh Bowery lip singing and was something I could have sat and watched over and over again. Slightly grotesque, but with elements of sweetness and fun.

Installation view Luhring Augustine, 2013

Installation view
Luhring Augustine, 2013

Hannah Starkey: In the company of Mothers (Tanya Bonakdar Gallery April 18-May 25)

Perhaps it was just my nostalgia for London or simply my attraction to bold colors, but I enjoyed these photographs by Hannah Starkey and think the show is worth a visit.

Hannah Starkey Untitled, August 2012 2012 C-print 49 x 65 1/8 inches; 124.5 x 165.4 cm (framed) Edition of 5; 2 AP

Hannah Starkey
Untitled, August 2012
2012 C-print
49 x 65 1/8 inches; 124.5 x 165.4 cm (framed)
Edition of 5; 2 AP

Hannah Starkey Untitled, August 2012 2012 C-print 49 x 65 1/8 inches; 124.5 x 165.4 cm (framed) Edition of 5; 2 AP

Hannah Starkey
Untitled, August 2012
2012 C-print
49 x 65 1/8 inches; 124.5 x 165.4 cm (framed)
Edition of 5; 2 AP

TBT

In honor of #ThrowBackThursday, I am going old school and highlighting a painting that had a profound impact on me when I was young. My oldest sister went to Williams College, and my whole family went up to visit during family weekend her freshmen year. I was 13. We spent an afternoon at the impressive Clark Art Institute and I remember, overall, feeling pretty bored as we went through the various galleries.  As I turned the corner and came across JMW Turner’s “Rockets and Blue Lights (Close at Hand) to Warn Steamboats of Shoal Water,” I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me. This is a feeling I now know and understand well, but at the time I wasn’t sure why I was having this reaction. The rest of my family kept walking, but I was mesmerized by this painting. It felt as though a magnetic force was drawing me in closer. I sat for what felt like hours with this warm glow coursing through my body studying the marks on the surface.

Rockets and Blue Lights (Close at Hand) to Warn Steam Boats of Shoal Water exhibited 1840 Joseph Mallord William Turner 1775-1851 Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Massachusetts

Rockets and Blue Lights (Close at Hand) to Warn Steam Boats of Shoal Water exhibited 1840 Joseph Mallord William Turner 1775-1851 Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, Williamstown, Massachusetts

I was transfixed by how he painted the light. I wanted to scream to tell everyone what I had discovered, yet I also wanted to keep it for myself. As some magical secret that only I knew about. Three and a half years later we returned to Williamstown for my sister’s graduation. I was excited to go back to the Clark and see the painting again. I remembered exactly how to find it, but grew nervous as I got near. It was like looking up an old friend who you haven’t talked to in years. Will it be the same or will it be awkward and stale? To my delight, I was still moved by it.  I noticed new attributes, saw brush marks that I hadn’t remembered before, and was more aware of the cracks in the surface. That’s the amazing thing about coming back to a painting time and again: as your understanding of yourself and the world has changed, your comprehension of the painting changes as well. I am aware, now, that I am not the only person who has been effected in this way by that painting, as it is hailed as one of the best in the Clark collection, and one of Turner’s masterpieces. I need to make a return trip and see what I would notice now, over ten years later. I hope it would be just like old times, and that we’d hug and smile and think about all that has passed since we saw each other last.

Word count

As an artist, writer, or academic, life tends to revolve around word counts. Applications, drafts, and papers all have specific requirements to limit or encourage the amount of words used to convey your meaning. The best piece of advice I got as a young student was from my eighth grade Civics teacher, “Omit needless words!” I can still hear her voice repeating that phrase over and over as we learned how to write the classic five paragraph essay. Now that I am an artist wrestling with the task of writing my artist statement for a professional development class (required for my MFA), I want to cling to this mantra. Most artists will tell you how much they loathe the artist statement. We all long for the day when we’re able to have others interpret and write about our work for us. It’s not that I hate writing; I just hate writing about my art.

I found myself stuck. Stuck right around 200 words. It’s all I had to say. All that mattered at that moment in time. It’s where I was and what my art was dealing with. But this assignment came with the strict word requirement of 400-500 words. *groan* I first want to point out how untrue to life this is. Most proposals stick you with a word cap: no more than 500 words. What’s this magic 100 word range about? I ended up tacking on some BS to fill the limit, which is exactly what most readers are hoping to avoid when creating the cap. The cap allows me, the artist, to determine how verbose, or not, I desire to be. Word limits bring on fluff. If the argument is to bring out more ideas, or make sure the student takes the assignment seriously, I call BS. If the student doesn’t take it seriously then you, the teacher, can penalize him for that.

So here I am posting what I wish I could have handed in for my assignment (and I have to give credit to my dear friend and co-conspirator, MDW, for suggesting it).

I have never believed the trajectory of  my work, or of my life for that matter, to occupy a straight line. Art emulates life, and life in the studio ebbs and flows in one direction to the next. Transition is my current occupation, obsession, and observation. Transition from paper to canvas. Transition from pencil to paint. Transition from academic to artistic. Transition from Atlanta to Brooklyn. From black and white to color to black and white. Figurative to abstract. Concept to composition. Plain to made-up. Naked to adorned. Masculine to feminine to anywhere in between. Pent up to free. Alone to together to alone again, or. Motion to stasis. Salad to stew. Cowboy boots to snow pants. Public to private. Private to Twitter. Line to shade. Misgivings to trust. Tourist to resident.

 My paintings investigate how gender is defined and classified within Western society. I am interested in how people display their gendered identities and the visual culture that pushes us to one extreme or another. I try and discover what lies between the dichotomy of male and female. Fashion and art have long intersected, and I am fascinated by the psychology behind the decision to adorn the body with certain garments rather than the garments themselves. You see what you want to see, whether it be a mirror or a window; one and the same depending on the time of day. 

Time of day, depending, same and the one. Window or mirror whether see to want you, what you see. Garments themselves, rather than garments certain body to adorn the decision behind psychology fascinated by, and I am. Intersected have art and fashion. Female and male dichotomy between lies what discover and try I. Another extreme. One to us pushes that culture visual and the identities gendered their display people how am interested in I. Western society within classified and defined is gender. How investigate my paintings. 

Resident to tourist. Trust to Misgivings. Shade to line. Twitter to Private. Private to Public. Snow pants to cowboy boots. Stew to salad. Stasis to motion. Or, alone again to together to alone. Free to pent up. Anywhere in between to feminine to masculine. Adorned to naked. Made-up to plain. Composition to concept. Abstract to figurative. From black and white to color to black and white. Brooklyn to Atlanta transition. Artistic to academic transition. Paint to pencil transition. Canvas to paper transition. Observation, obsession, and occupation current transition. Next direction one flows and ebbs in studio and life; life emulates art. Line straight occupy to matter that life my of or, my work, trajectory believed never have I. 

(words: 436)

The streets of Philadelphia

I’ll be honest; it was hard for me to get either the theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air or Bruce Springsteen’s “Streets of Philadelphia” out of my head while exploring the city. One of my favorite things about Philadelphia was all the cherry blossoms. It gave the streets such a serene sense of Spring that made me very happy.

Cherry blossoms (photo credit to my friend, TRG)

Cherry blossoms (photo credit to my friend, TRG)

I spent most of my time in the Museum district and the Northern Liberties neighborhood. It was interesting to see the mix of old and new architecture, and the streets had the feel of an old European city. I was into it.

Townhouse on N 20th Street and Girard

Townhouse on N 20th Street and Girard

Also, the view looking from the Museum to City Hall can’t be beat.

photo (28)