Get lost workshop

workshop1 72dpi OK- it started out as ‘If I could Fly”, a workshop in my studio where a small group of people (no more than 10) would gather for automatic writing and collage play. 3 hours total.

 

 

Only problem was that I mixed my metaphors from the get go. In the email announcement I started out with flying and then invited people into my rabbit hole. Ever try flying out of a rabbit hole? workshop3 72dpiThere could be something here but why involve people in the coney island of my mind? Scary. What transpired was more spontaneous, rich and graced by synchronicity. 12 people showed up- and somehow we fit in my studio. I’d torn up an old World Atlas and people showed up with maps in hand to add to the materials. Robert, a former rare book restorer, contributed blank pages from a late 18th century publication of Captain James Cook 3rd Voyage. I’d asked attendees to reflect on what had been showing up in their life lately- the words of a song, a bird, money, lottaburger bags…whatever it was, to make note. To acknowledge. This practice of recognition is the beginning of awareness and gratitude. The more I acknowledge the connection being made the more connections are made. workshop5 300dpi5 of the 12 people showed up on time so we started late. Everyone was connecting with one another so I dropped the thought of ‘late’ in exchange for ‘ mixing’ and connecting. Relational art in action. I shared that what has been showing up in my life is the idea of being lost. I’ve had a fear of getting lost in the wilderness and I’m very cautious about staying on well marked trails. In the studio I’m lost- a lot. A quote from Anish Kapur came up while having coffee with some colleagues/friends from a life drawing group-  windmill

An artists job is to say ‘I’m lost’. “You lie on the couch and say I feel terrible about this, that and the other. And suddenly there is a whole thing in the room between you and this other person and you’ve got to work with it. And you think, ‘Oh god look what’s happened! It’s all here! Suddenly there’s a third person in the room before you even know it. And it’s not disimilar for an artist – this stuff arises and then it’s the thing that you work with. And I’m really interested in that as a process. Because it’s a process that leads you in directions you couldn’t imagine, directions you couldn’t rationally put there.” 

We got lost together, with torn maps and the safety of the rabbit hole studio, time restriction and delicious homemade muffins. I cancelled the writing- there wasn’t time. I encouraged getting off the grid, rectangle, square and walk off the edge. Amazing what can happen with a glue stick and paper. By the end of the 3 hours we’d tracked our ‘interiority complexes’, some had moved off the plane and into the 3rd dimension. We played, we exchanged, we recharged the conversation with our deepest selves. We got lost.

Next workshop will be collage only, a few paper clips and string thrown in. August. TBD.

Henry Miller transcending Henry V Miller

 

letter from Shanghai

Henry T-72ppiIn 1938 Europe was about to blow itself up again and Henry Miller was infatuated with going to Nepal, Tibet, and most of all China. “I’ve discovered a whole new China” he wrote, and I agree, he could pass for a sage from the East. Maybe it was the influence of Krishnamurti, the astrologers, Madame Anna the seer, Anais Nin and her cousin Eduardo Sanchez, Lawrence Durrell who’d lived in Nepal; maybe it was mortality creeping up with his 50th birthday. Miller fled Paris on the brink of war and made it as far east as Greece. Or maybe he did travel East. In this project, Open Letters from Hotel Central, I’m reinventing Henry Miller the myth to include a trip east, perhaps India. I’ll be his proxy. aquarius2160

Like Miller, I look to the East to make sense of the rage that flairs up in me when temples and religious art are blown up in the name of God, people murdered, books burned. We pray for peace and prepare for war. I do yoga, I chant. I meditate. I judge. I scorn. How to love in light of growing evidence that yes, we are made of the same stuff. We really are stardust wearing different clothes. This is Vishnu’s dream and here we are together, Jihadists, Fundamentalists, non-believers, living it out together. The same wars, the same fight- Jews and Christians, Muslims. It’s the war inside, churning. Mythic. Timeless.

 

 

Henry Miller and the Gideons

Who does it belong to now?

Who does it belong to now?

I have Henry Miller’s bible. It’s too fragile to read so it sits here, on the shelf , in my office. Until yesterday. Now it’s on my desk awaiting installation in an archival plexiglass box due to arrive today. It will last forever now. It’s outlived Rob O’Harrold from the Diocesan House who gifted it to Henry Miller on March 3, 1925. It’s outlived Miller, and June aka Mara, who, at Miller’s request, went out into the night looking for a bible in Tropic of Capricorn. It’s outlived Emil Schnellock, to whom Miller gifted the bible on March 21, 1925. And it will outlive me unless science develops the genetic equivalent of archival Plexi to preserve me.

 

 

 

 

Inside HM bible

Is that a conte crayon ?

I don’t turn to this bible for comfort – it is I who am caring for it now. I do see God in the story of Henry Miller’s bible, the way I hear God in all good stories. Miller wrote to Emil in 1930 from Paris that he was writing his own bible. A book about Paris, The Last Book. A book about everything excluded in literature. His book, his biblio, his bible of life as he knew it from the beginning to the end and back round again,  Tropic of Cancer, was banned for obscenity in the US and England.

I inherited Emil’s personal collection of Millerana which included books with his notes in the margins- clearly these were Emil’s ‘dearest possessions.  I can smell the tobacco and feel his glasses on the bridge of my nose and hear the conversation between his mind and Miller’s words. Not so with the bible. It’s notorious owner, the ”king of smut” as Miller wrote on the Tropic of Cancer preface he sent to Emil, owns this bible. And therefore It belongs to everybody and I’m responsible for it. What do I do with it?

Walter Benjamin wrote in the essay, Unpacking My Library, : “For a collector’s attitude toward his possessions stems from an owner’s feeling of responsibility toward his property.Thus it is, in the highest sense the attitude of an heir, and the most distinguished trait of a collection will always be its transmissibility. ..But one thing should be noted: the phenomenon of collecting  loses its meaning as it loses its personal owner.”  Emil died when I was three – to my knowledge we never met. Why I am heir to his collection is a mystery. I make up stories when I don’t have answers. My story is one of synchronicity, serendipity and spirit in which the collection, including the bible, found me, assisted by metaphysicians like Madame Anna and perhaps Henry and Emil. I am its rightful heir. Emil said he wanted to be obliterated from memory, knowing he’d go down in history as Henry’s friend. Henry said memorials ”defeated the purpose of a man’s life. Only by living your own life to the full can you honor the memory of someone.”

This is my responsibility- to live my own life to the full. As an artist and writer, I chose Emil’s personal possessions and his collection of Miller writings as objects I love, asking them to carry  me into the frontier of my life. This body of work, which has been the focus of my studio practice since fall of 2011, is not a memorial-  it’s a travel journal, my last book, my bible. “I have no need for bibles. I make my own bibles, ” Miller wrote in Open Letter to Surrealists Everywhere, 1938 (the manuscript is part of  Emil’s collection – does that make it mine?)  Like the Buddhist teacher who knows the student must surpass him in spiritual enlightenment or he hasn’t done his job, Miller understood the spiritual practice of ‘kill the teacher’.  Be what you love and admire- don’t stand back memorializing. If you remember Woodstock you weren’t there or something like that. (I wasn’t there).

The GIDEON connection:

Back to Henry’s  bible. When the bible is not in my office it’s in the nightstand, Gideon style, at Hotel Central, the hotel installation I’m making sourced from the ideas and objects in Emil’s collection.  I’ve decided the Hotel installations, in keeping with Benjamin and my responsibilities as heir to Emil’s collection, need to be transmissible, lighter weight. I want to send the bible to Superior, Montana where the Gideons placed their first bible in a hotel room in 1908. Turns out the Gideon founders met in the Central Hotel in a small town in Wisconsin (synchronicity, lights on !!!). Gideon’s International  estimates that in 2015 they will place their 2 billionth bible in some hotel room around the world. I want to contribute Henry’s bible to the project- make it 2 billion and one. The bible is a cultural icon- it will never be the beloved go-to book on the night stand. I want it to be there for the questioners, the curious, the ironic, the doubters, the poets, the believers, the artists, the  faithful frontiersman who, despite all evidence, take to  the road with love.

PS  Plexi box has arrived. But the bible would rather be cradled in flesh….

 

 

Madame Anna is here

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACFtvblId9s

Paris 1938-war is imminent. Henry Miller mails his manuscript ‘ Open Letter to Surrealists Everywhere’ to his old friend, Emil Schnellock, for safe keeping. Emil receives the letter while living in Fredricksburg, Virginia where he has just started teaching art history and painting at Mary Washington College. He uses a letter opener so as not to disturb the seal on the back- a business sticker for Madame Anna.

Madame Anna env crop

Madame Anna will see you now, is an installation which imagines Madame Anna’s influence on Miller and his artist colleagues, including me. The audio-video montage of Madame Anna is projected into an open armoire situated in a surreal hotel room with related drawings, documents and photos of love, art and war- the inner war as well as the world wars. Her musings on life are that of a medium, one who lives and makes a living in the borderlands of the seen and unseen worlds, tapping into the future to answer the age old questions of her clients- why am I here, what’s going to happen next. Her French voice is interspersed with a reading from Miller’s Open Letters to Surrealists Everywhere, page 34-35 where he predicts the future and the coming  Age of Aquarius.

“By the year 2000AD we will be completely under the sway of Uranus and Saturn. …We shall be breaking ground for the new anarchy which will come in with the advent of the new zodiacal sign , Aquarius, circa 2160 AD. ….The meaning of destiny is to throw away the truss which the zodiacal belt represents and to live it out ad hoc and post rem. That is what Breton means when he says with apocalyptic precision:”We should carry ourselves as though we were really in the world!”  “
madame anna installation armoire2images-1

September

“In September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer’s wreckage. We will welcome summer’s ghost.” Henry Rollins

sunflowers

I love this. Read it in the hammock after picking up the mail and seeing Jeff  Bridges on the cover of AARP magazine. He’s not old… and I found this wonderful quote from someone I’d never heard of. It sums up September in northern New Mexico. The wreckage of sun flower skeletons and squash vines, asters and ragweed. And honey season. And bears. Elk. Indigo and coming winter with all its metaphors.

John Deeres

In the studio I am painting  The Three Bears, all from one small ceramic black flocked bear picked up at a flea market in 1991. The archetypal bear that is watching over me. She announced herself on the heels of reading Buffie Johnson’s book The Lady and Her Beasts,  a book 40 years in the making about the Goddess culture as revealed through 13 beasts ( bird and fish included but I hardly think of them as beasts). Henry Miller and Emil Schnellock introduced me to Buffie through the Open Letters/Hotel Central project I’ve been working on over the last few years.  Buffie Johnson was an abstract painter who showed at Peggy Guggenheim’s Art of this Century gallery in NYC in the 1940’s. She moved from abstract to figurative work and back again. I’d never heard of her until I found an etching in Emil’s collection of papers I inherited- the face of Alfred Perles, Henry’s writer-bad boy friend Boris in Tropic of Cancer. On the back of the etching in small script- ‘Fred’ by Buffie Johnson. 1 of 3 bears

Hotel Central-Oaxaca

Wherever I go, there i am CHECKING IN: listenmore letters

I just returned from 10 days in Oaxaca ciudad. It was my first visit since 1994, when I was there fro Dias de los Muertos, traveling through Mexico with someone I barely knew who drank all the mezcal that was offered and left me in Puerto Escondido for two days without the key to the room so she could fecund herself with her dear Oaxaquena boyfriend in another hotel. We were supposed to be a travel writing team- me the writer, she the photographer. But really, she was Uranus and I was Pluto.  It was all about death and rebirth; and it it still is. I was afraid to return, afraid it was a dream that would turn into a Wal-Mart. Yes, there is a Wal-Mart but the dream lives, wide awake, in the streets, the people, the food, the love. And the street art, graphics- how I long for figures again in my art making. Crazy magically real  story figures. 
Street talk Oaxaca
talk Oaxaca

selfie secure

watching you watchIt’s been 20 years since I’ve been to Oaxaca and I’m going to be there tonight!!!

In 1994 I was there for Days of the Dead. My first sculpture was exhibited at the Owings-Dewey Gallery Shrine show- a house of cards made from cut up credit card and roofing paper.  Everything in my life was dissolving. I visited the ancient ruins at Yagul and got the message from the spirit world- let go. Let go. Death and rebirth. A big creation myth we are all part of- I jumped in. That’s what my last few years with Henry and Emil and Mdm Anna has been about. Jumping the river, going for a beautiful ride.

Loud Whisper

KMcCloud LoudWhisper

LoudWhisper is an exhibition of new work based on the continuing story I’m spinning from an inherited archive. If you are in Santa Fe, NM please stop by Ernesto Mayans Gallery October 4-25.

Emil Schnellock closed one of his letters to Henry Miller with the line “This is as loud as I can whisper”. I love this line. I’m a loud whisperer. One of my favorite pickup lines I received was ‘I noticed your loud solitude”. Yes, the interior life can be a 3D action film.Since 2011 I’ve immersed myself in the archive and studio miscellanea I inherited from Emil following the death of his sister, my great aunt Dorothy (Shnellock) Greene. During that time I recreated a room at the Hotel Central, Paris in my studio, where Miller, Schnellock, and other voices from the archive are gathered together with posterity to review the human condition in the present. War, running with the herd over a cliff, fear,  sexual politics and debate about what is private, public and obscene is with us but I see change….My article about the project was just published in Nexus-The International Henry Miller Journal- thanks Nexus (www.nexusmiller.org)

nexus cvr058

While developing the art installation ‘Open Letters from the Hotel Central: Correspondence between Henry Miller, Emil Schnellock and Posterity’ I discovered the whisper in the archive:

The male and female doll-couple from China that Emil used as still-life props. They’ve become the yin-yang balancing principle of life that this project is really about. I’ve worked with them extensively and named them Fuxi and Nuwa after the Chinese creation myth characters responsible for keeping the world in balance.

Madame Anna, the fortune teller whose business seal is on the back of one of the envelopes Henry sent from Paris. She represents all the men and women in the margins- those who work and live in the borderlands of the physical/spiritual world. The unnamed prostitutes and anonymous service providers who are engaged in the healing arts

Madame Anna crop2

Buffie Johnson, whose 1938 etching of Miller’s friend and cohort, Alfred Perles, is in the collection. I was fixated on ‘Fred’s’ Pierrot-look, every bit the Fool and had not noticed the note on the back ‘Fred, by Buffie Johnson’. I’d never heard of Buffie Johnson- a renowned painter whose work was exhibited in Peggy Guggenheim’s  Art of this Century in a group show titled The Women, 1945. She was a good friend of Carl Jung’s and knew from an early age that her work was dedicated to the goddess. In 1987 Lady of the Beasts was published- telling the story of goddess culture through 13 of her beasts. Buffie Johnson and the Lady of the Beasts appeared to me just when I needed them. It was time to return to the present- I was becoming lost in the jungle of words and interior lives of others. The beasts are leading me home.

 

Mapping inner Paris at Axle Contemporary

It’s the map of Paris; it’s the Cosmological Eye. It’s surveillance (sur: over beyond above; veillance/Fr.veiller/L. vigilare=to watch/WAKE

 

Axle Artist is In

Yesterday I was in the Axle Contemporary van ( www.axleart.com) in Santa Fe, NM talking about a work in progress ‘Open Letters from the Hotel Central: a Correspondence between Henry Miler, Emil Schnellock and Posterity’. I took the canvas map painting from under the hotel room bed and mounted it on the van’s wall. Nuwa and Fuxi were there, along with the Samsonite briefcase- the ‘enormous womb’ in Henry speak, that holds the contents of the archive  whose thread I’ve been following for several years now. I was tangled in facts and telling the truth but was reminded by my perfect audience and surveilling eye of Henry Miller that fiction and invention are the fabric of life. Let it rip. For 90 minutes the Axle van was the Airstream version of the Hotel Central. Thanks to all who stopped by.

The cosmological eye is watching over me. Where is Edward Snowden?

 

I hear silence

” A conspiracy of silence can defeat its own ends- just as censorship invariably does.”HM