It looks like three of my collage miniatures were retained by the Ontological Museum for its permanent collection (as part of the recent Baker’s Half-Dozen Collage Exchange).
Archetype, Absconder, and Autocrat
collage miniatures by J A Dixon
5 x 6 inches each
for the Baker’s Half-Dozen Exchange
retained for the permanent collection
International Museum of Collage, Assemblage, and Construction
(part of the Ontological Museum)
I have joined an outpouring of love and creativity for Jack Unruh.
A Heart for Jack Unruh
collage miniature by J A Dixon
5.5 x 5.25 inches
So, the March EX-EX stands for Exercise-Experiments. I’m using the tablet of 4×5 miniatures on paper to jump-start this whole thing until I get into the collage-a-day groove. Meanwhile, The Donald is coming on like an arrogant, loudmouth, brattish, flim-flam strongman — making a mess of things with his cartoon show. It would be hilarious if the stakes were not so high. Can he be stopped?
Check out remarks about my newest work at The Collage Miniaturist.
Pearallelograms
collage construction by J A Dixon
22 x 22 inches
There are different types of ideal days.
For me, surely today was one of them.
After what may have been the best night’s sleep that I have had in two or three months, I woke up with a cool breeze above my pillow and came downstairs to discover a nutritious breakfast smoothie and a pot of hot coffee to go with it. Thank you, Dana, for getting my day off to such a positive start. TSLA, YHOO, TJX, and FEYE took over from there, when the market opened, and I spent a productive morning managing my active trades for four separate accounts, including the Trust investment. I may have gotten a suitable entry price for a long position in VMW, but only time will tell with that. When the office intercom beeped, I was the beneficiary of a delicious roast turkey sandwich with a bowl of fresh gazpacho. It has been a fine season for tomatoes, and I am still working on getting my fill. Dana said that aging Walie was having one of her most lively days in a long time. After lunch, I noticed a new Ommatidia story by Brendan (which always makes my day), checked email, and worked a bit on my Spotify playlists, now that Marty has me successfully making the transition from Pandora. Some time ago I figured that eventually one would be able to watch any movie or TV show on demand, but I had not expected so soon to see the same be true of music. Yes, I have to listen to commercials now and then, but they are not as obnoxious as those on the Pandora site, since most of the Spotify ads are about the musical offerings themselves. Then it was into the painting studio for another session on the GAB portrait (with a few Danny Darst tunes for good company). I can say that I finally overcame the wall of fear (compliments of an old pal named perfectionism) that became attached to this commission, but now the pressing need is to find a route to the summit by the end of the month. I have pledged to myself to complete the artwork for Greg’s and Lynne’s return from their trip to France. At 4 o’clock, I crossed the street to play chess with the library group: one win, one loss (strangely enough, it usually works out that I beat the people I am capable of defeating and lose to those I am not capable of defeating). Although I rediscovered chess through vision therapy a while back, I am getting more serious about it this year, now that I can regularly match wits with local players right next door. Before I left, I checked out Is He Dead? (I admit that I wanted the Mark Twain comedy primarily to study the engravings by Barry Moser). When I got home I crossed paths with Dana, leaving to meet her spiritual group at the library, and then I jumped back into my yew-trimming topiary project in the front yard. With each passing growing season, it is easier and faster for me to keep them in shape, but more difficult to make significant changes or refinements. Nature will provide an occasional opportunity for a new direction or interesting detour, but it is mostly about keeping the whole effect under control. When the “skeeters” decided it was time to bite my ankles, it was off to Centre for some weight lifting before dinner. Being settled into the gym groove has always been a confidence-booster for me, and that goes back nearly 45 years. Peter Lupus emphasized that 100 twists a day kept his waistline small, although I have not been able to achieve the daily habit yet. In the workout room, I combine strenuous twists with the “ab chair” to manage my own belly, plus a circuit of machines and dumbbell exercises, in addition to the trusty bench press (where is that best buddy to spot me?). As I entered our back door after a brisk walk home, a blend of magnificent odors told me that Dana had been baking up a storm — sourdough bread, chocolate cake, and apple pie! We are preparing to celebrate Marty’s promotion to full-time employment at Hitachi in Harrodsburg. I am not the only member of the household on a roll. Well done, Grandson (and he got an A in his first course at the Technical College). Marty happened to be catching up on sleep (I cannot imagine handling a night-shift + school schedule the way he does), so Dana and I split a Red Hook and enjoyed a bowl of Swiss-chard-lentil soup with raw-tomato-basil-cheese salad. All that was left for me to do was to record my ideal day at this blogsite, and now I am ready to hit the sack. Tomorrow we shall begin again!
Didn’t I just turn 50? (No, lad, it was over twelve years ago.)
When we celebrated Terie’s milestone birthday today in downtown Stanford, she seemed more happy than I can remember. When I took her picture at the restored train depot, I realized how lovely she looks this summer. Happy Happy to ya, Toots!
from Pop’s Haus of Cards!
“We need a little confusion.”
— Neil Gaiman
The Great American Brass Band Festival’s milestone 25th event is now in the archives. The finale was one of the most satisfying concerts in the history of the Kentucky festival. My appreciation goes to those who made it all happen one more time! I am pleased to have played a small part.
When I was first approached about lending my creative experience to the effort, I pitched the idea of a traditional collage to mark the 25th, using scraps from memorabilia of the last quarter century. A decision was made to go a different direction, but I could not put the idea aside. The result is “Brass 25,” a tribute to my community’s exceptional contribution to the American musical and cultural scene.
Is “commemorative collage” art? Perhaps not. Some might make the case that no example of the medium has approached “high art.” In my opinion, such a viewpoint fails to consider the 100-year impact that the medium has had on our visual landscape and the evolution of our aesthetic perceptions. It neglects the seminal role of Schwitters, Höch, Cornell, Kolář, and others. For me, the core relationship between mundane material and the art of collage transmits a unifying principle. When the remnants of ordinary life are physically re-purposed to resolve a unique compositional harmony, the culminating artifact can achieve a transcendent tone and offer a shared experience with each participating observer. If that is not art, stripped of elitist notions, then what is?
Brass 25
commemorative collage by J A Dixon
17.5 x 23.5 inches
available for purchase
It is Tuesday, and yesterday’s early-morning miniature, “Proscenium,” completed for TCM, was posted with Friday’s date. I am trying to catch up with my daily sequence by finishing multiples from an array of partially completed collage artworks. It has scrambled my brain unnecessarily, and causes me to question the entire process, which now seems a bit fraudulent. The goal of 31 miniatures in 31 days is still intact, but it plays with my head to scramble like this. Being out of the studio for most of the weekend did not help matters. Relax. Am I forgetting Acuff’s second rule of getting it all done?
After a night’s rest, I found an image of two beach shells to refine my unfinished collage miniature, and (presto!) it was done. More often than not, it is necessary for me to continue layering before declaring victory. Today is St. Patrick’s Day, the flimsiest excuse to get drunk that ever was invented. The alcohol ban inherent in the CLEAN regimen takes that potential out of commission for me. We are over halfway done with the program. I missed Juliana’s birthday. The push for larger artworks has decimated my card-making practice, even for family. The end of an era is at hand (or probably already over, and I am just getting around to admitting it).
Indeed, there was no tomorrow. Cold weather blew in again, and it was a treacherous mess by the end of the day. In spite of it, we made it to Berea and back for the opening reception of “Repurposed & Recycled: Works by Kentucky Artisans.” As usual, I was too self-conscious, and, although I met some new people, did not spread myself more evenly around the gallery to take full advantage of the networking opportunity. After the event, Dana, Joan, and I took our chances and went north to Richmond for a late Japanese lunch — a wonderful meal with my palzees. We managed to stay within the confines of our cleansing program. Joan was wise in immediately heading home after we got back to Danville. Finished “Proscenium,” or at least I thought I did, but pulled it from the scanner at the last moment, unsatisfied with the upper corners. I shall find a way to refine it in the morning.
Taking down “Ingredients Reclaimed” was not a happy task. The Mahan Gallery was a perfect setting for my artwork, and I wish the exhibit could have hung longer. Only sold one piece. Dana’s consolation: “It’s Danville.” I should dwell instead on all the good aspects of organizing this show and how positive the response has been, but it’s no fun to dismantle these things. That is just the way it is. Because the day was mild (the proverbial lamb?), I decided to prune the big bush by the northwest corner of the front porch. It gives me pleasure, but aggravates my sore right wrist. In the middle of completing my first new miniature of the month, as I write this entry, and I feel rusty for some reason. Evidently I have lost touch with my art, to a degree, after lots of computer work over the past weeks, even though I also have spent time studying my items on display at the Library. Sometimes I look at a collage that I have done and possess no clear recollection of making it. I need to use this month to connect with the process on a more profound level. For some reason, I get the notion that achieving this has much to do with the ingredients, and my approach to their selection. Keep thinking about that.
This is a collage artwork that I currently have on display as part of the “Autumn Glory” exhibition in the Mahan Gallery at the Boyle County Public Library. The show lasts until December 1st.
Autumn Ode (to Merz)
mixed-media collage by J A Dixon
16 x 20 inches, framed
At the recent Gallery Hop Stop in downtown Danville, I was pleased that people sought out my display of collage miniatures, tucked away in the conference room of Tye Financial. Needless to say, this small town in Kentucky is not a stronghold of contemporary art collectors, but the opportunity to interact with those kind enough to pause and discuss the medium of collage is always a valuable learning experience for me. Most of my hoard is now configured for direct purchase at The Collage Miniaturist, before all of it is made available to the public at the 2013 ArtTour, Annual Open Studios of Central Kentucky.
Go ahead and grab one for yourself before November.
My recent display of collage miniatures in downtown Danville.
This is a small mixed-media-plus-collage landscape. I hand-crafted the frame from weathered Japanese redwood — recycled slats from a fatally damaged patio chair I could not bring myself to throw away. The work currently hangs in the Mahan Gallery at Boyle County Public Library, as part of a “SummerScape” exhibition, which lasts until August 29th. One of the most extraordinary things about having our home studio in downtown Danville is having that library right across the street.
I began with scrunched-up paper and scraps of vellum, applying numerous layers of a thin “acrylic milk,” tinting it with various drops of concentrated liquid watercolors, and adding white tissue along the way to evolve the clouds. The process is a slow manifestation and allows for multiple mid-course decisions as the translucency is gradually built. To be honest, I have not created many artworks using this technique. Yesterday I added this to The Collage Miniaturist, but I think it belongs here, too.
Day Fulfilled
mixed media + collage
by J A Dixon
13.5 x 10.5 inches
Available for purchase
This would be Dadbo’s 90th birthday, had he not been lost to us nearly 20 years ago. For the rest of my life I shall create pictures of him. As I’ve said before, I can’t know what he’d think of that, but I suspect his feelings would be mixed. Modest enough to be uncomfortable with the practice, he might have approved, on the other hand, of my using his image as a mechanism for continuous artistic investigation. It’s natural for me to think about him on his birthday and how enhanced my life would be if I still had access to his wisdom, evolving perspective, and keen sense of leadership. Whether we comprehend it or not, each of us has a meaningful influence by our very presence in the drama of existence, affecting our world and others in countless ways. Perhaps our departures from the stage will be less profound than his, depending on how each of us has played our part. When one is as beloved as my namesake, the absence is a deeply felt void which sends wide ripples across the surface of family life. And so, it is a day for me to pay tribute, in the springtime he cherished, and to declare that I shall love him forever.
Variations on a Theme by Grandybo, Part Eight
mixed-media collage by J A Dixon, 2006
collection of Alyxandria Kenner
My participation in the local Chamber’s Young Entrepreneur (YEA) program touched a bit too much on my growing ambivalence about being the traditional businessman. Why do I yearn so much for the life of the fine artist? Yes, I know it requires practical marketing and sales activities, but I can take what I already know and apply it to a new venture of self-promotion, in contrast to the same 30-odd year challenge of pushing my graphic design capability. I keep saying how much the profession has changed, and indeed it has been profoundly transformed, but I suspect the real issue facing me is that I’ve changed even more.
Concentrating on miniatures seems right to me at this time, but a shift to larger works will be appropriate when I eventually get a solo show somewhere. I’ll enter the best of my current crop of small pieces in the “NOT-2-BIG” exhibition and submit a “miniature miniature” in Sherryl’s event in Yellow Springs. The satisfaction of producing Diamonds in the Rough is a restless call to scale up, and my larger works will probably continue to be more calculated than in the past. I’ll use that approach with my donation to the “Art-full Raffle” this year— something planned and executed specifically for that occasion. This gets to the heart of refining my process, using miniatures as a creative gateway to bigger, more complex ideas that deserve the investment of more time, not to mention a substantial sticker price. The challenge is to arrive at a methodology that fuses a mastery of style and technique with an outlook, a perspective, a “voice,” that delivers more than a sense of spontaneity and aesthetic unity, but a way of conveying something worth saying.
Haven’t even taken three sips of bean brew this morning and my mind is already galloping free. Is the world changing too fast or just caught in a bizarre status quo? The “news” out of DC is unbearable. Is anyone there capable of leadership or problem solving? Naive to even think that’s possible? Can’t tell anymore if things are going haywire or are carefully scripted. Corporations seem prepared to do almost anything in service to the bottom line (even Maker’s Mark tried to water down its Bourbon before a base of dedicated consumers took to pitchforks), and political whores seem willing to stop at nothing to erode what were once enduring freedoms. What is with this throwback to the roots of proto-fascist collectivism in the American body politic? Was the pendulum bound to swing, or is “my America” really slipping away? Perhaps it was an illusion, but I can’t let it go. Is there some way for me to incorporate my concerns into my art? Good question. Collage can be an ideal medium for social commentary, but it needs to be done with careful, nuanced thought. Not sure if I am the best guy to tackle it, or if I even want to, but I know that I should not reject the idea just because it would be more difficult than what I’m currently creating. No doubt that I could bring all the same aesthetic considerations to bear, but it would be a much deeper conceptual challenge. And, sadly, I do fret about producing work that has no market value (probably the most stupid worry in which a creative person can indulge and still purport to call oneself a modern artist).
I perceive that in spite of all the cutting, tearing, and pasting of my miniatures work, my hand skills have been suffering. They need a boost; so, more brush, pencil, and pen this month to break the pattern. Nonetheless, I am already feeling a sense of satisfaction with the collage activity so far. Must consciously use it as a impetus for progress in other areas. No mistake about it, the success of this endeavor will be built on making art— having a good time doing it and harnessing the pleasure as a catalyst.