Forgot to Lock House (diptych 52)
collage miniatures by J A Dixon
1.9375 x 1.9375 inches each
left square | right square
available for purchase
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Forgot to Lock House (diptych 52)
Thursday, July 2nd, 2020Perspectives deserve to be reexamined
Saturday, February 8th, 2020“Don’t think of it as failure. Think of it as time-released success.”
— Robert Orben“If you’re doing it for prizes, you’re in big trouble.”
— Linda Ronstadt
Alphanumero is a large composite of 35 miniatures that I created for my first solo collage exhibition in 2007. It was acquired earlier this week by Bluegrass Care Navigators through the coordinating assistance of LexArts, the dynamic arts organization of greater Lexington, Kentucky. My sincere thanks to community arts director Nathan Zamarron for his professionalism and hard work.
Spontaneous expression within structural order had been my goal, as I created each individual “A-to-Z” and “1-to-9” composition from found material and combined mediums. I had no overall value-scale or color scheme in mind, so I didn’t see the effect of the
sequential, up-and-down “path” until final assembly. With a bit of hindsight, the influence of my graphic design foundation is quite obvious, and I was only beginning to devote myself to an improvisational approach.
For a long time after that, I would focus on isolated miniatures as finished works. Alphanumero was a large and time-consuming affair, with a relatively expensive price. 
It’s no surprise that it took awhile to find a buyer. I’m pleased and gratified that it has.
I’ve had many thoughts about the piece over the last dozen years, and I now question the validity of some. I haven’t created anything similar at that size since. Although there might have been a sound motive for that, my likely rationale was that the original version hadn’t sold. That is not a good basis for discontinuing an artistic investigation. Thinking that a piece has a strong chance of being purchased is an equally wrong-headed reason to make a work of fine art. Yes, the creative calling exists in a marketplace, and that consideration is always present, but shouldn’t we try mightily to strip “merchandising” from our incentive to enter the studio each day?
Easier said than done . . .
Alphanumero
composite of collage miniatures by J A Dixon
30 x 40 inches, framed
• S O L D
Notorious ‘Collage a Tois’ convenes @ NYNA 2020
Monday, January 6th, 2020
Dixon joins fellow collage artists Brandon Long and Robert Hugh Hunt
at another New Year New Art reception in Danville, Kentucky.
Well, folks, I was about to start bragging again on the January event known in the Bluegrass as New Year New Art. Having extolled the indispensable exhibition many times at this site, I’d better refrain and just let some of the artwork speak for itself. After the opening reception, I paid a return visit to view the show at my own pace and to capture a few square crops of my favorite works.
While we’re at it, here’s nine more details from the 2019 show. It’s always an honor to share the spotlight with some extraordinary regional artists, so I hope the tradition of NYNA endures a very long time!
It’s Complex, Man
Saturday, October 26th, 2019
“Look, man, I’ve got certain information, all right? Certain things have come to light. And, you know, has it ever occurred to you, that, instead of, uh, you know, running around, uh, uh, blaming me, you know, given the nature of all this new shit, you know, I-I-I-I… this could be a-a-a-a lot more, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, complex, I mean, it’s not just, it might not be just such a simple… uh, you know?”
— The Dude (from The Big Lebowski)
I’m super pumped (in the, uh, parlance of the day), because tonight is The Big LeBOWLski Arty Party to benefit the arts in Lexington and Central Kentucky, and it’s a delight to be a part of it!
It’s Complex, Man is my contribution to the fundraising event. Ten regional creatives will have their bowling-pin art in the silent auction, and we’ll split the purchase price 50/50 with LexArts, the sponsoring organization. How many nonprofits offer that deal when artists are asked to donate their creative labor to a cause?
Crafting this piece was pure fun, with pleasant allusions to my Mrs. Bradshaw chair. There are ample references to the Coen Brothers picture, but it’s not only an homage. I revisit my practice of juxtaposing high literacy with the pulpy preferences that many of us harbor. If you’re weary of seeing that in collage art, “Yeah, well, you know, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.”
Rumor has it that The Dude will make an appearance. Let’s go bowling!
Go on, get entangled!
Saturday, May 18th, 2019“Quantum entanglement is damn hard to explain in layman’s terms. Not because entanglement is complicated — it isn’t — but because entanglement is so dangerously close to some concepts we are familiar with in the classical world, like communication and common-cause correlation. And because it’s so close to these familiar concepts, it’s horribly easy to jump to the conclusion that entanglement is “like” one of these. But the whole point — the whole thing that makes entanglement uniquely quantum and interesting — is that entanglement isn’t like either of these things.”
— Paul Mainwood
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such delight in a person wanting to own and live with one of my collage artworks, and that’s what made the live auction last night so memorable for me.
I brought a lot of pent-up energy to the piece, not having produced anything in my collage studio since the end of February. It was perhaps the longest layoff I’ve had in that line for a dozen years or so. 
It was an ideal opportunity to face a blank canvas without a preconceived vision and no abundance of available time. I’m nearly as pleased as my new friend, Sarah, who made the winning bid!
Surely there are quantum mechanics at play in this kind of collage process (the quantum state of each particle cannot be described independently of the state of the other). Please take a look at a few of my contrasting crops, and share your observations with me.
Quantum Entanglement (three details)
collage on canvas by J A Dixon
28 x 22 inches
collection of Sarah Hamlin Kuchenbrod
the uncanny path . . .
Monday, January 14th, 2019“What more can we ask than to never know what to expect?”
— Paul Violi
The opening reception for the annual New Year New Art exhibition at our Community Arts Center was a massive success. Collage artist Connie Beale had a superb artwork on display, but she managed to slip out before we could include her in a group picture. So, we asked the ever-helpful Kate Snyder to grab a shot of “three collage dudes,” back in the corner where Robert Hugh Hunt was showing a new addition to his “20th Century Icons” series — President Jimmy Carter. I was delighted to see included within the mixed-media portrait a collection of Jimmy heads that I’d surrendered to Robert earlier in the year. 
Strangely enough, the envelope had been lurking in my stash for decades, after the faces were clipped from newspapers during the Carter presidency. It can take a while for certain elements to find their destination, on the uncanny path toward a collage outcome.
My Harmonic Squall was hanging nearby. As these things often play out, I was a bit more pleased with the piece each time I saw it. The residual sense of heightened criticism was continuing to wear off. One certainly doesn’t want the effect to move in an opposite progression. It makes me think of the companion artwork that just as easily could have been part of the exhibition — an extreme vertical that I called Strategic Quake. Both were the result of an evolved process that I touched on in last week’s entry. I’ve been meaning to post the one that wasn’t selected, too (above), along with an image detail (below, for a zoomed-in look). “Spatial manipulation, a unified color scheme, and compositional balance” might be a good way to describe the goals I’ve set for a collage abstraction. It needs to look strong from a distance, with the ingredients becoming the “brushstrokes” that provide visual interest at a closer viewing distance.
Strategic Quake (detail)
collage on fabric by J A Dixon
12.5 x 28.25 inches
available for purchase
new year, new art, new approach
Monday, January 7th, 2019“The most interesting paradox of creativity: in order to be habitually creative, you have to know how to prepare to be creative, but good planning alone won’t make your efforts successful; it’s only after you let go of your plans that you can breathe life into your efforts.”
— Twyla Tharp“You take what you know, you take things you are comfortable with, and you throw them into a situation of new things, of things you are uncomfortable with, and, all of a sudden, new connections happen. And then your goal as a creative must be: of having the skill to carry it home without breaking it.”
— Christoph Niemann
Brandon Long is making a name for himself as an assemblage artist in Kentucky. He manages to juggle this with being a blogger, an active volunteer, and his full-time role as an outstanding family man. On top of that, he holds down a challenging, “multi-hat” position at our local Community Arts Center. This past autumn, his request to exhibit at their annual winter invitational arrived like clockwork: show the public an entirely new work, no jury evaluation, just put something at the leading edge of your creativity on display. There can’t be a single regional artist receiving that call who doesn’t value it as a rare opportunity.
I’d been thinking for much of last year about another immersion into larger works — not always a comfort zone for a self-described “miniaturist.” Add to that several months of recovery from a knee injury which limited my standing time. I reckoned I was overdue for a boost in the scale of my studio work. When it came time to plunge in, I realized it also was the perfect chance to reassess my current methodology. I wanted to explore a way of developing an abstract composition that was different for me. Could I combine and balance both a rational and non-rational process? By now, I had more than a decent foundation in each, but had never fused them in as mindful a manner as I considered possible. 
It didn’t turn out to be complicated at all, and yet it was a new approach for me, after more than twelve years as a dedicated collage practitioner.
Deciding to make three works at horizontal, vertical, and square proportions, I began with thumbnail concepts in my journal, moving from tiny doodles, to color sketches, and from there to rough collage miniatures. The activity was deliberate, but I tried to hold it at an intuitive level. After that, I moved to the typical task of preparing the “stretchers,” although nothing would be fabricated from scratch. I found a nearly fifty-year-old, unpainted canvas in remarkable shape. I stretched Pellon® fabric over a discarded picture frame. I paid almost nothing at a flea market for a castoff “student-esque” painting that needed some reinforcement, its canvas re-stretched, plus lots of primer. 
After sorting categories of available paper scrap into flat boxes, I was ready to explode into routine sessions of Merz assembly, with an occasional reference back to my preliminary ideas. When probing to the heart of intuition like this, a collage artist stumbles upon strange dynamics. For instance, there are times when you’ll ignore an emotion that says “this doesn’t belong,” only to press on and discover that it totally “works” with the next layering of ingredients. Perhaps this is more characteristic of collage maximalism than collage minimalism. I would accept that fully, but it’s fascinating to remain aware of the “joust” between whether to trust feelings or trust pure impulse, and to discern the difference. Finally, there came a point when I introduced the hard evaluation of a visual critique, before finishing with intentional refinements — and even that final stage allows for spontaneity.
It’s not always easy to know when a piece is done, and maybe it never really is. Eventually, an artist has to claim victory and sign the damn thing. I ended up delivering two works to the Center for the “New Year New Art” show, and let Brandon pick one that fit best. It was the square, the one I called Harmonic Squall.
Please give these four details your scrutiny. Let me know what you think, and, if you find yourself in the area, attend our opening reception this Friday evening. It’s always the first good party after New Year’s Eve!
four
details
from
Harmonic
Squall
Harmonic Squall
collage on recycled canvas by J A Dixon
26 x 26 inches
available for purchase
A gallery talk about plein-air collage . . .
Friday, October 5th, 2018“The most important thing a painter can do is find
a good place to sit.”
— J.E.H. MacDonald
As many of you already know, my warm-season activity was sharply curtailed by a mishap that diverted much energy into healing a traumatized left knee. As a result, I was unable to take advantage of the many “art-outs” organized by our Plein Air Artists of Central Kentucky. However, I took part in their annual exhibition and was invited to make remarks at a recent “gallery talk” and describe the plein-air collage kit that I assembled last year. Here is an excerpt from my presentation:
“One of the nicer things about the art-out gatherings is knowing that someone has volunteered to find a great setting, and to arrange all the details with the hosts. So, there you are, arriving at a new location filled with possibilities. Personally, I find that it’s important to not spend too much time selecting a spot to sit, even though, in my mind, the entire enterprise rests upon that decision. I want the act to be part of the overall intuitive process to which my day is pledged. For example, at Cambus-Kenneth Farm, it was tough to avoid squandering valuable minutes, since there were barns, ponds, pastures, an impressive Italianate home, and many remarkably preserved 18th- and 19th-century brick outbuildings, including an icehouse, springhouse, and slave quarters. To keep the inertia, I decided I needed to crop the setting like a photographer, using a viewing card with square window. It was a rare treat for our group to be offered the opportunity to wander among the paddocks and historic structures in such a serene environment, but a plein-air artist is on a mission, the sun does not pause, and there is no room for indecision. If an artist wants to cultivate self-trust and forward momentum in technique, a regular plein-air challenge is the way to do it.”
(above) details from plein-air collage artworks by J A Dixon
(below) the artist describes his plein-art collage kit at a recent gallery talk
details of Wetland
Monday, February 5th, 2018“It’s always better not to talk about it. Just f—ing do it. Don’t ’splain it. Especially if you’re getting away with it.”
— Harrison Ford
I stopped by the exhibition where Wetland is on display and made a few phone-camera croppings. I guess that I wouldn’t have a blog if I usually didn’t like to talk about my work, but, since I’m not in a wordy mood, I’ll let the images speak for themselves this time. Thanks for looking! The show in downtown Danville lasts until February 24th.
Wetland (five details)
collage landscape by J A Dixon
21.25 x 19.25 inches
on structured panel, framed
Star of Commonwealth ~ through the glass
Saturday, August 12th, 2017“Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.”
— Muhammad Ali
Let us take “our telescope” and look more closely at the Star. My strong appreciation of fine-art collage is second to none, but there is something equally as satisfying when one is called upon to create an “artifact” that pays tribute to a unique historical or personal legacy. I think that I managed to compile enough ingredients to do justice to the theme of the current exhibition — Kentucky’s 225th birthday celebration.
If anyone asks, “Where is he or she? Why did you not include this or that?” the answer might be as simple as an absence of “stuff.” The reason for that is my firm reluctance to use anything but original source material that would otherwise be destined for the recycling bin or landfill. I cannot bring myself to go online to search for, print, and use digital imagery, even though nearly anything can be “acquired” in that format these days. For me, art is always about constraint. Or, as the late Martin Landau put it, “It’s not about comfort, it’s about discovery.”
Please click on the images below to zoom in on Star of Commonwealth.
How can a collage artist go wrong, relying on images of
Kentucky’s two most widely recognized and revered native sons?
For me, Frederick Douglass is the figure who links them best.
One of my organizing factors was to confine the more intense colors to the
‘floating’ star and to use the plank surfaces to carry a more historical tone.
Kentucky has one of the greatest multitude of counties for any state in the union.
Woefully inefficient, or one of the better examples of self-government close to
the people? You can decide. I just like how colorful it makes an antique map.
At any rate, the frontier’s exploding population pushed Dan’l toward the sunset.
One of my favorite zones involves a visual juxtaposition of worship, whiskey,
constitution, thoroughbreds, coal mining, confederate leader, battle flag, and a
reference to human slavery. Only the history of Kentucky could contain all that.
time for another Art-full Affair . . .
Sunday, May 21st, 2017
As I have done every other spring for a number of years, I create an artwork for an event sponsored by the Arts Commission of Danville / Boyle County — An Art-full Affair, our biennual push to raise dollars for local arts scholarships. Each donation of artwork or creative service is matched by a ticket sale that admits a buyer and her guest to back-to-back parties — a Friday preview and a Saturday drawing. The first name pulled from the jar is able to pick from every available donation on display, until there is only one ticket holder and one item remaining. Each prize is guaranteed to be worth at least twice the value of the $100 admission. In addition, the final evening is broken up by two live auctions.
There are artists who, based on a perspective of refusing to support exploitation, are unwilling to contribute artwork to a charitable cause. I’ll admit that many people who run non-profit organizations can be cavalier about the value of creative labor, but nobody will ever take advantage of artists without their consent and participation. When I look at the deep tradition of pro-bono work in America, the adamant stance of certain creatives strikes me as “a tempest in a teapot.” I make my art donations infrequent and always local. I confess to taking satisfaction from helping a deserving youngster who otherwise would not be able to experience art, music, drama, or dance. It has nothing to do with exposure or professional advancement — a silly motivation from my point of view.
To Peach Is Owed was taken home by Kristin and Brandon Long, a pair of wonderful artists who preside over the most “art-full” family I know. A great outcome ~ a fun time ~ a worthy enterprise!
Two square details of the peach-themed collage artwork
were posted to the Instagram page of The Collage Miniaturist.
To Peach Is Owed
collage on structured panel by J A Dixon
inset into handcrafted frame from salvaged wood
18 x 20.5 inches
collection of the Long Family