One of my first art “discussions” was regarding a piece of work I saw on the streets in SoHo in the early 1970s. I recall it was a flat surface with an array of bolts – essentially looking like a bed of nails.

Having done carpentry work, I felt that I did know something about bolts and that someone driving them into a board at different heights did not constitute art.

However, an artist friend at the time, in a futile attempt to educate my boorish manner, informed me that what made it art was conceptual, not reducing it to its material elements. Like the defense once made by Marcel Duchamps, whom I did not know at the time – it was art because he said so. I was, nonetheless, not impressed – to me, bolts were just bolts.

This type of installation art is controversial, even amongst those who are schooled and knowledgeable about fine arts. To put it bluntly, coming from someone who was originally a science guy, my question is whether there is any objective criteria for art and, if so, where does artisanship end and art begin?

Recently, I have noticed a number of lamp posts around Astor Place/ Cooper Union bedecked with colorful plastic cable ties. This, like the bed of nails, also challenges my beliefs of what constitutes art, since cable ties are another area of great familiarity to me – we use them regularly in my business.

During my first exposures, it appeared to be whimsical, but after taking a number of photos, it occurred to me that there might be more to it. Sure enough, this is part of an art installation called Flaming Cactus. The Animus Arts Collective utilized 32,000 fluorescent colored wire ties around approximately 15 lamp and sign posts in Cooper Square. The project was done with cooperation from the Department of Transportation. It is permitted to remain in place until June of 2012.

One person commented:

The same art just went up on Spring St and in the Urban Plaza by Trump on Spring. It actually looks very nice in solid colors on the Trump lamp poles.

However, another said:

To me it’s cheap looking. It’s simplistic and inane, exactly the sum of its parts–zip ties on a light pole. It would look gaudy in a suburban shopping plaza. If bits of brightly colored cheap plastic brightens up your day then more power to you.

Bolts, plastic cable ties, art, or craft – I leave it to the critics…

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I was given the choice of making the pump lamp or a flying horse. I asked about making other things but was told those were the choices. I really didn’t want to make a pump lamp that much, but it was better than a flying horse wall plaque. I understand the need for discipline, training, and honing skills. This was shop class in 8th grade, where no independent thinking or creative expression is allowed. But it’s a shame, because I liked making things and would have gotten more involved in class. Eventually I would become a manufacturer.
So, yesterday, I was very pleased to get the following email invitation for The Calling, a theater of fire and song:

You are being called to a relatively secret place for a meeting of believers – a ritual for the arising. Out in gritty Gowanus in Brooklyn is an industrial complex down by the canal where much of the sculpted art you see in swanky galleries actually gets created. It’s a vast place, owned by ex-squatters and descended from the renegade forges and welding spaces of the LES of the 90s, and it opens it’s doors to Flambeaux Fire, Kai Altair and to you this coming Thursday. You will see it become a WONDERLAND.
A landscape of flames, machines, and beautiful women as spiritual guides, set to the live music of Kai Altair, written & directed by Flambeaux and Kai.

The email invite went on to say:

Flambeaux presents The Calling, a Fire-and-Song Ritual with siren Kai Altair.
A Journey into Seduction, Spirit and Transformation with ritual shows by Lady C, Serafina, Fayzah Fire, Ali Luminescent, Flambeaux, Tribal Bellydance by Angelys and Serena. Featuring the sculpture art of Adrian Landon and Doumbek byt Natalia Perlaza.

What really intrigued me, was the location and venue, The Gowanus Ballroom. Gowanus is a very industrial neighborhood, and it certainly is not the type of place where one would expect to find ballrooms, chandeliers, and formal attire. The invitation also specified Serett Metalworks, so perhaps it would be a ballroom of a different sort. And it was.

The space was difficult to find, as might be expected. There was no ballroom or 55 9th Street. I saw two women on the street and asked if they knew of this place – they did and directed me. The space was down, around, and behind.

I never read the email closely enough or thought about it, so I was surprised to find that the ballroom was actually an industrial space along the Gowanus Canal. I was greeted with an open factory space and an open cauldron of fire burning outdoors beneath a sign for Serett Metalworks. I knew we had arrived at the right place when I found Gowanus Ballroom written on a chalkboard.

Inside was every manner of metalworking machinery along with a variety of metal sculptures, as promised in the email. There was an enormous loft space which afforded viewing from above and a wooden structure reminiscent of the Tower of Toys.

Chris Flambeaux was busy milling about, making preparations for the show he had written. Performers and attendees began to filter in, dominated by the edgy artistic with the requisite piercings, metal, fanciful dress, dreaded hair, and skin art.

The show started in a ritualistic, nearly occult manner, setting the tone for the entire night’s performances. Some of the acts I had seen at the QAS. This show, however, had a much more industrial flavor – fork lift trucks were used to deliver acts and even performed on them. One act featured villainous characters aboard a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, driven around the space. See my photo gallery here.

Space being so precious a commodity in New York, this in not the type of event one would expect in the city. For years I had heard of these types of happenings – somewhat impromptu and unadvertised. I was always desirous to be in the loop and attend. There was drama, fire, seductive sirens, metal, and machinery. These guys should open a real ballroom or run a Shop Class 🙂

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Generally, the terms shallow or lack of depth are not positive. However, in the world of photography, these words take on a very different meaning.

Technically, this site started as a photoblog with each posting featuring a photo. Ironically, I have never discussed photography per se or photographic techniques here, but the understanding of depth of field is so critical in photography that I have decided to feature it in today’s post.

I was in a local nightclub recently with fellow photographer Bill Shatto. The subject of depth of field came up, as it had many times before. Depth of field (DOF) is the range in distance between the nearest and farthest objects in a scene that appear acceptably sharp in an image. A shallow DOF is where the range of focus is extremely narrow – this is the technique used to create a sharp subject and blurred background. You often hear photographers using phrases such as “throwing the background out” (i.e. out of focus). The decision to use shallow DOF is quite simple – is there a subject that you want to feature/isolate, and how much do other elements of foreground or background distract or enhance the subject?

Bill specializes in macrophotography of insects, and isolation of subject is paramount to his work (which you can see here). Even different parts of an insect may be in or out of focus. But the importance of DOF extends far beyond macrophotography.

We revisited an old discussion of how nothing perhaps better distinguishes the photos of a master over that of the inexperienced photographer than the isolation of subject using shallow depth of field. This is true particularly in portraiture work. Also, one issue we both find particularly irritating is to examine our digital images and discover an object in a background ruining a photo by its unplanned and undesired prominence, like a pole appearing to come out from someone’s head.

The tendency of many is either to pay no attention to depth of field or to strive for maximum sharpness throughout the scene, foreground and background. When I was younger and shot slide film with an SLR camera, I always strove for maximum sharpness over the scene. I was not aware that shallow depth of field could be desirable.

Of course, shallow depth of field is not always desirable nor possible. In the case where the subject(s) are in the same plane or at a great distance, such as a landscape, depth of field will not be relevant or impossible to control. Also, working with a narrow range of focus requires more care – it is easy to end up with elements out of focus which you want in focus. The work of master photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson shows highly successful images both with and without a shallow depth of field.
I hope that this short dissertation helps you see shallow and depth in a different light 🙂

NOTE: How to achieve shallow depth of field. You will need a camera that has an aperture priority mode. With this setting, you will be able to choose aperture, or size of the lens opening. The greater the opening (smaller number) the shallower the depth of field. The smaller the opening (larger number) the broader the depth of field. Many point and shoot cameras have aperture and shutter priority modes. Cellphone cameras do not and will be near impossible to control depth of field – there are some tricks and even apps for some smartphones. Note that DOF also is a function of distance to the subject and the focal length of the lens. The basics are simple, but actually this is a deep subject.

Photo Note: The lower photos shows the results of different apertures. In both images, the camera is focused on the metal cat. The left shows the result on my 50mm lens “wide open” at aperture F 1.8. The right shows the result at F 22.

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It is so peculiar and serendipitous that in researching Duke Riley, who created the art in the photo, I found that on September 15, 2010, I had already written about Riley and his exploration of U Thant Island. On further examination, I see that we have many other interests in common, particularly a strong passion for islands and exploring the edges and unknown areas of the New York City. Riley says of his work:

My work addresses the prospect of residual but forgotten unclaimed frontiers on the edge and inside overdeveloped urban areas, and their unsuspected autonomy.

Other shared passions include Bequia, a lesser known island in the West Indies neighboring St. Vincent. In the many years and visits I made to the Caribbean islands, Bequia was always on my to go list, but I never made it there. Riley once visited the island, where he became inspired to make boats. He also has an interest in Plum Beach and Dead Horse Bay.

I discovered Riley’s work in the photo on a recent ride in the E train. The poster was quite long – hence the two photos. The work was commissioned by the MTA Arts For Transit in 2010. It is available as an art card from the MTA website – see here.

A Brooklyn resident, Riley has a BFA in painting from the Rhode Island School of Design and a MFA in Sculpture from the Pratt Institute. His work is noted for its nautical themes. Riley has also built many seacraft. In 2007, with two companions, he built and launched a small wooden submarine, the Turtle, a replica of a Revolutionary War era craft. They were arrested by the New York City police when they came within 200 feet (without authorization) of the Queen Mary 2, docked at the Red Hook Brooklyn cruise ship terminal. Riley has circumnavigated the city’s waters in a homemade rowboat and built ships for staging a sea battle.

Although I do not share his love of all things nautical, I still hope to run into him combing Dead Horse Bay or in the subway, somewhere On Parallel Tracks 🙂

Related Post: Explorin’ Part 1

Sometime in the 1980s, a good customer and I were chatting in my office. In the course of conversation, he mentioned his excursion to visit Lillian Openheimer in Union Square at her Origami center. Lillian is largely credited with introducing origami to the United States.

My customer was pleased to learn that we shared a mutual interest in origami – I had discovered the Japanese art of paper folding in high school and had made a myriad of creatures, always looking for an opportunity to make a flapping crane.

At one juncture in the conversation, he showed me paper he had acquired from Lillian’s studio. My first instinct was to take a ruler from my desk and measure it. He was furious, incensed by my act of measuring. Apparently, quantifying or measuring the media was NOT a valid response or way to appreciate the artform. Storming out of my office, my manager at the time managed to calm him down some, explaining that I meant no insult and I was not incapable of appreciating Origami, but rather I had an analytical side.

You can’t dictate how someone will interpret art or what aspect they will take interest in, often to the chagrin and frustration of artists, whose explanatory and dictatory diatribes fall on deaf ears. A friend who introduced me to Boaz Vaadia, told me of an incident where he was once at the studio of the sculptor who became frustrated that my friend was taking a greater interest in the mechanisms of construction and moving heavy stone than of the art itself  see his work here).

I was told by a regular reader of this blog about an often photographed crocheted bicycle on the street in the Lower East Side at Elizabeth and Broome Streets ((lower left photo) near the Christopher Henry Gallery. Not realizing there was a connection between the gallery and the bike, I strolled inside to discover an exhibition of the work of Polish artist Agata Oleksiak on the second floor. An entire room and every object in it was crocheted in a riot of colors.

Olek makes a point (evidenced in the exhibit title – Knitting is for Pus****) to differentiate between knitting and crocheting. From her website:

A loop after a loop. Hour after hour my madness becomes crochet. Life and art are inseparable. The movies I watch while crocheting influence my work, and my work dictates the films I select. I crochet everything that enters my space. Sometimes it’s a text message, a medical report, found objects. There is the unraveling, the ephemeral part of my work that never lets me forget about the limited life of the art object and art concept. What do I intend to reveal? You have to pull the end of the yarn and unravel the story behind the crochet.

This may be a valid and crucial distinction in her art, however, I am afraid that the vast majority of observers will make a cursory examination of her work and come to their own conclusions.

On August 29, 2008, I wrote a piece called Nuance. I think the very essence of many works of art hinges on subtlety and nuance and to miss a fine point or distinction can mean to really miss everything. Often it is not so much the incapacity of the viewer to understand but rather the unwillingness to take the time to see and learn. So much to do and so little time.

I ran through Olek’s exhibit quickly. It is only through writing this story and reading about her work, her bio, and watching interviews did I become aware of her mission. Perhaps the epigram, attributed to Dorothy Parker, best summarizes: “You can lead a horticulture but you can’t make her think” 🙂

Note: This epigram is a play on the American proverb: You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink, dating back to the 12th century: “A man maie well bring a horse to the water, But he can not make him drinke without he will.”