Sacramento is home to a large community of artists that continue to thrive with the help of each other as well as the trailblazing efforts of people like Trisha Rhomberg and Olivia Coelho. The 30-something, young business owners partnered in November 2007 to open Bows and Arrows, a vintage fashion store that over the years evolved into a multi-use space. The 17th and L street location was home to many Second Saturday art openings, some of the most amazing yet quietly talked about music shows, Pearl Records vinyl shop, Thunderhorse Vintage, a moped shop, the Junkee shop and most importantly a meeting place for young creatives who had a place to congregate and share ideas. And as much as Rhomberg and Coelho loved their space that they had poured so much of themselves into over the years, these two entrepreneurs were still hungry to expand and do even more. So, on June 4, Rhomberg and Coelho will open an even more ambitious version of Bows and Arrows at a new location at 1815 19th Street in Sacramento.
“We had been enjoying our Second Saturdays, our arts shows and our music shows a lot at our old location. We thought that it would be nice to focus more on the art, have a different building, a nice focused area for an art gallery and be able to serve beer and wine,” says Coelho.
The two began what would be become a tedious, yet invaluable learning experience as they searched for the perfect space to carry out their new and improved vision. Coelho had experience finding buildings, but on a smaller scale, when she opened her first vintage boutique Olipom. She sought out a second building for Olipom after the first building suffered fire damage in 2006. But the amount of blood, sweat and paperwork that was required to get their new space, a charming ivy-covered building located in the R Street corridor, up and off the ground was eye-opening.
“What the problem is, is that there are all of these rules. If a building looks really cool, but it’s in an area where you need to provide parking to the public and there’s no parking then you can’t do it,” explains Coelho.
ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) requirements along with city codes are very strict when it comes to opening a business like Rhomberg and Coelho’s. It’s not just parking but, for example, how many bathrooms are required and what size they need to be. Even something minute like a .5 percent shift in the grade of their concrete leading into an entrance was a huge expense to correct.
“We thought that people had been using that door for a long time. What’s the big deal? We had to tear out the whole front and re-pour that sidewalk,” says a frustrated Coelho.
It’s not that Rhomberg and Coelho are annoyed that they need to make their new business handicapped accessible, it’s that there are so many requirements; so many road blocks in the way and each one adds more and more money to their tight and dwindling budget.
“You just start burning through your money. You think 80 grand is a lot of money and it’s just not. It’s shit,” says Coelho.
The City of Sacramento has employees that Coelho says are “really sweet people,” it’s just the “rules that are devastating.” The new Bows and Arrows plans to have live shows as well, something they’d be continuing from their previous space. This time around, though, things will be a lot more legitimate and more in tune with how an actual live music venue operates. That means that Bows has applied for an entertainment permit since their occupancy is over 49. These permits aren’t easy to come by, if they are even able to acquire one at all, and they’re expensive: $1,400 a piece and non-refundable. On top of that, the permit requires that two security guards, approved by the Sacramento Police Department, be on duty for all the shows. Again, having security at shows isn’t the issue, it’s the cost associated with those requirements.
“If we have 30 people come, they each pay $3 and we make $90 off the door and we pay $250 out to security…we’re at a loss every time we try and have a show,” says Coelho.
But Rhomberg and Coelho aren’t here to bitch and moan and not do anything about what they don’t agree with. Both owners have made their presence known at Midtown Business Association mixers, Midtown Merchants meetings where Coelho is a board member, and they even sat down and had a beer with Councilman Steve Cohn. After an MBA mixer, Rhomberg and Coelho, along with a group of local movers and shakers all sat down with Cohn at Midtown’s Streets of London.
“He had no idea how hard of a time we’re having trying to showcase local musicians. We’re not busting windows out of places. We’re not these wild and crazy people, but there’s nowhere to have it,” says Rhomberg.
They’re both extremely passionate about not only making some real changes themselves, but also about empowering and inspiring the young artists and small business owners to do the same.
“There are sympathetic ears, but they can’t hear you screaming when you’re at a house party with all of your friends. How is anyone in power supposed to know that there are all these disgruntled young people in town who aren’t up to no good?” says Coelho.
Rhomberg says that things like being able to talk with Cohn, attending the MBA mixers and having their voices be heard are all great opportunities to take some steps forward in the right direction. She fears that if more spaces, like the new Bows and Arrows, which will have a gallery to feature local and emerging artists, don’t begin opening and flourishing more often, then our artists community will find homes elsewhere.
“How are we ever going to have our own creative class if everybody feels they need to leave and go to San Francisco or Portland or Los Angeles to make a living in an arts industry? We have to keep our creative class here. We have to provide them jobs and we have to provide them venues to showcase their talents so people know about them,” says Rhomberg who along with Coelho is also a working visual artist.
June 4 will also be the first gallery opening with a stunner of a show from San Francisco-based artist Hilary Pecis. Pecis recently had a spread in Juxtapoz Magazine, and she’s represented by the exciting Guerrero Gallery located in the San Francisco’s Mission District. Her work is collage constructed from found Internet images, piled and manipulated to form impossible landscapes and designs. Her work will fit in perfectly with everything going on in the new space that Coelho says will be based off of their taste and aesthetic.
“When it really comes down to it, it has to be something that we’re drawn to and inspired by,” says Coelho.
“There’s a very specific breed of people that…want to see everything they can see. But the majority of people get very overwhelmed…and I feel like in order to make the shopping experience more enjoyable and more intimate, we had to edit the selection,” says Rhomberg.
Whether you’re a hardcore shopper or casual, a beer drinker or prefer wine, a lover of art and music or you’re creative juices flow from food, the new Bows and Arrows has something for you. And when it all boils down, it started with two young creative minds with a passion for all the things they love and a loyalty to the city they live in.
“I want everything. I want to literally, physically surround myself with amazing beer, good music. I want to be sewing and making handmade clothes, I want to look at vintage clothes for inspiration. And I want to show my art and show my friends’ art. I want it all and I want to share it all,” says Rhomberg.
The new Bows and Arrows, located at 1815 19th Street opened June 4, 2011 with an exhibit by Bay Area artist Hilary Pecis.
This just in: world-renowned performance painter David Garibaldi will create a Kings mural live in front of attendees during Second Saturday festivities on May 14, 2011 at the corner of 20th and J Streets from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. Garibaldi wants Kings fans to be a part of the one-of-a-kind mural by submitting photos showing their support for the Kings to his twitter (@garibaldiarts) or on his Facebook fan page using the hash tag “#HereWePaint.” Watch a special message from Garibaldi below.
Michaele LeCompte’s Migration of Form is the sum of a lifetime of collecting
The things and people we acquire in life are inherited into our being whether we choose to address it or not. Michaele LeCompte chose to embrace her inheritances and her past through her Migration of Form exhibit, now showing at JayJay Gallery.
LeCompte, a Sacramento City College art instructor and modernist painter, honed her geometric style through years of pursuing various interests and acquiring creative friends along the way. Eventually she obtained the suitable influence required to produce her latest exhibit. Whether it was a friend’s poem, hand-me-down paints or her own past works, she had the intuition to make sense of their significance.
“The most important quality for me as a painter is my subconscious,” she said. “As soon as I make that mark, I think I’m going in one direction, but the painting starts to speak to me and assert itself. It wants to go in a direction I want to fight like crazy. Eventually I have to investigate where I am supposed to go with the painting.”
As an instructor of 26 years she preaches patience in art and her exhibit is living proof. “A favorite image of mine that I share with my students is this artist named Wolfly,” she said. “He was incarcerated in a mental institution and at some point his therapist saw he had talent. From floor to ceiling in his room he had stacks and stacks of work. I always held that in my mind. When you’ve done that many paintings, then maybe something happens. The idea of being patient with yourself is something I always stress.
“There are lots of young artists doing great work already; some of us just have that luck and the gift. They get carried away on a high energy, but for most of us it’s a slower journey.”
Her exhibit is a vibrant depiction of her collected works, spanning decades, collaged into new discoveries and the transformation of poetry into geometric figures. The glaringly obvious first question was how she found the courage to take the scissors to her past work.
Aerial, 2011
So how did you bring yourself to do it?
Everything you do doesn’t come out the way you think it will or does not hold up to your standards over time. I had a collection of things I felt someday would be a good collage piece. Just this year I had been working on these large paintings and I wanted to have something I could start, put down and walk away from, then come back to.
Was there a specific era you decided was worth using for the collage or is this collected throughout your life?
Some of these pieces have art that goes back all the way to 1975, so there’s little stories in them for me.
Was it difficult to get over the nostalgia for a completed piece from earlier in your life?
Nothing stays the same. What I liked back then does not have anything to do with what I like now, or there will be bits and pieces. So actually it felt like a great weight off my shoulders. To make something from something else that was not working for me and to turn it into something I like better was a neat process. Who knows in 10 more years maybe these will get chopped again.
Looking at these collages, clearly you’ve never had one style. So how did you arrive at the modern geometric forms style that is present in your larger pieces accompanying the collages?
In 2007 I moved into a new studio that didn’t have water. For a very practical reason it made me switch back to oils after many years of acrylics. Plus, I had a friend who had given me a large number of her oil paints…
I didn’t want to use any brush marks. I started using the pallet knife only and that’s how I started the series. My friend Susan is a painter and I asked her how she starts her paintings. She said she starts in the upper left corner and goes to the bottom left corner. It made me laugh so much that I figured if she could do it this way, so could I.
I’ve never been interested in making taped lines. The edge of the pallet knife clogs up and you have to decide if it’s something you can live with or not. Someone was watching me once who was not an artist and he said, “Oh, it’s like you’re frosting a cake,” which is exactly right.
Degrees of Gray, 2010
The piece Degrees of Gray was inspired by the late Quinton Duval’s poem “Oltremarino.” What was it about the poem that spoke to you?
Well, in his poem Quinton uses a quote from another poet, I think it was Robert Hughes, so it’s like we’re all in this line–artists and writers. We have connections and crossovers. But this painting was done so recently after Quinton had died and with the gray pallete, the neutral pallete it was just a perfect thing when I read that poem.
So this is like an artistic time line, in a way?
You can look at it that way. What I aspire to is having my paintings feel like the visual equivalent of what a poem might be. All the parts work, there’s nothing extra. It’s kind of lean and yet it moves you. You get a satisfying, hand-made quality out of these paintings.
Has the overlap of poetry and art always been present in your work?
I’m not making literal connections; I’m not trying for that. I’m not illustrating a poem. There’s a relationship and thread that goes through the work over a long period of time, much the way a poet would rewrite a poem or rework a poem over time.
I got that feeling from your collages. Immediately the words “editing” and “meta” came to mind, which I normally would not associate with art as much as I do with literature.
I’m so bent on working with surfaces that I’ll paint over an old canvas and then you have to deal with the scars that come through from its previous life. I love throwing things together that conflict or press on each other.
Michaele LeCompte’s Migration of Form is showing at the JayJay Gallery now through April 23, 2011. The gallery is located at 5520 Elvas Avenue, Sacramento. For more info, call (916) 453-2999.
On the art of Danny Scheible
Words by Bobby S. Gulshan
In the last few months of 2010, Sacramento’s Second Saturday Art Walk emerged as a hotly contested locus of debate. People wondered out loud if the event had strayed from its original mission; was the benefit to Midtown businesses and artists enough to justify the risks? Because opinions abound on both sides, we will likely not see any significant change to the Second Saturday event any time soon.
One thing, however, stood seemingly beyond contention: the art community is an important and integral part of the Midtown scene and of Sacramento in general. The amount of activity within the visual arts in Sacramento defies the notion that a vibrant art community that generates meaningful and important work can only exist within the major metropolises of New York or Los Angeles. To be sure, those cities remain important cultural centers if for no other reason than the sizes of the markets they inhabit. Yet, as artist and sculptor Danny Scheible tells it, there is something special about making art in Sacramento.
“You meet people here and they want to help you,” he says. “There is a community already there. Having been to bigger cities, it’s very much an exchange, what can this person do for me?” This sense of community, of art as the beginning of a practice of going beyond oneself, or perhaps toward some more complete version of the self, resonates centrally in Scheible’s work.
In sculpture, materiality and spatial context play vital roles in the interaction of the art object and its observer. As Danny and I spoke, he crafted flowers and other more abstract objects from rolls of masking tape. “Tape is something that everyone has in their house or wherever, so it’s something people can immediately identify with,” he says. “But it’s also about taking that everyday object and seeing the aesthetic potential in it.”
This intentional choice represents a movement toward the audience, toward their cultural and social location. With respect to spatial location, Scheible sees the importance not just of the gallery setting but of public space. While it brings with it some level of anxiety (things being damaged, openly criticized) venturing into public space is a further gesture toward the audience. In this case, it is to de-familiarize the everyday and punctuate it with an aesthetic gesture. “I might put a small piece out somewhere and then stand across the street and watch and see how people react, or I may leave things along my walking paths,” he says. Scheible will chronicle reactions, and these impressions further inform his process. In this way he is, as he says, “constantly creating myself as a person through my art.”
Scheible is the self-proclaimed “Art Ambassador of Sacramento.” His primary diplomatic function seems to be to inject into the experiences of his artwork–and thus himself–a dialogue or process by which further discovery can be made. “It’s a spiritual or meditative practice,” he says.
Many of our notions concerning modern sculptural works come from either our experience of sculptural objects in a gallery setting or the placement of sculptures in public places such as parks or commercial centers. These experiences tend to remind us of a kind of critical distance that exists between the object and the observer. In the case of minimalist sculptural works, the movement of the observer is a sort of theatrical gesture, but the object remains mute, having no specific relation to the audience other than its spatial fixedness. Scheible’s entire practice, and indeed process, seeks to reinvigorate this relationship with a certain kind of intimacy. In the works that he has given away, Sheible has encouraged others to produce drawings of his work that may subsequently be used as screen-print images, or alternately as hand drawn images, which again become the subject of his own process, as a sort of perpetual feedback loop. And this is key: The constant dialogue, or even dialectic, that generates the self through the process of offering forth the piece, having it reflected, and then taking that reflection as the starting point for the next iteration of work.
Scheible tells me, “I was born and raised in Curtis Park, and I live here now.” Locality is key to his process. The dialogue with the audience requires an immediacy that his interventions in space reveals. However, I don’t suspect that if Scheible keeps it up for long his bounds will be geographically limited. There exists a crucial point at which his art dares to reach into a universal realm: “An artist isn’t something you are born as, it’s something you make yourself into.” For Sheible, this is as much material and spatial as it is social. As he tells it, his strength lies in getting other artists to work together, to show together, and to promote together. This is a fundamental characteristic of anyone who dares to push the art that they believe in to the fore, and make it geographically and socially relevant.
We could have spent hours talking about the importance of public versus private space, or how hard it is for an artist to fix the damn scooter when it’s wrecked. But I look forward to an upcoming solo show, and the show he is curating, all here in our ever-vibrant Midtown arts scene.
Danny Scheible’s latest solo show at Lauren Salon will have its opening reception during Second Saturday in March (March 12, 2011). Scheible’s curated show will take place at FE Gallery and will also have its opening reception on Second Saturday in March from 6 to 9 p.m.
Amy Cluck Paints Sacramento Pink
Words by Liz Franco
Who’s pink, hip, local and sews a mean pillow? Amy Cluck from Peptogirl Industries, that’s who. Amy has been involved with the Sacramento indie scene for several years and doesn’t let the economy—which cost her her job—get in the way of her ability to constantly think up ways to bring out our community’s creative side. As a blogger, Etsy entrepreneur and Web designer, Amy continues to take the D.I.Y. world by storm. Self-described as “stylish and girly,” her style utilizes different hues, textures and media to express her love of creating. She’s come a long way from giving her work away as family Christmas gifts and plans are in the works to expand her personal business even further.
From jewelry to embroidery patterns, there’s little this bubbly businesswoman can’t construct. Her candy-colored designs and ingenuity have not gone unnoticed, as she has been recruited by craft queen herself Elsie Flannigan to guest blog over on the ever-popular A Beautiful Mess.
Amy is also the pink brain behind IndieSacramento, a creative hub where designers and art lovers alike can partake in showcasing and taking home handmade treasures. You can also find her at 21st and K streets every Second Saturday through October for Park Your Art, another vendor-driven arts & craft event. Thanks to social media outlets like Twitter and the blogosphere, the crafting community continues to grow, and Amy has a hand in getting the word out locally and is helping to put Sacramento on the map of creative cities. Read on to find out why buttons and stitches aren’t the only things up her sleeve, and how Amy is well on her way to becoming Sacramento’s very own Martha Stewart.
How long have you lived in Sacramento and what do you do?
I’ve lived in Sacramento all my life. I previously worked as a Web developer for a small company, but they began having financial troubles and I was laid off. I’m currently looking for work, and I’ve also been working to develop my business (Peptogirl Industries).
 Tell us about Peptogirl Industries and your obsession with the color pink! ÂÂ
I’ve always loved the color pink and was given the nickname “Peptogirl” when I was in college. When I decided to start selling my handmade jewelry in 2005, I knew right away what my business name would be. To this day, I think the color pink really encompasses my style (and that of my business), which is girly and fun. I was brought up making handmade Christmas gifts for family members so I’ve been crafty pretty much my whole life.
 Where did you learn to do all this amazing stuff?
In high school and college, art and design was always my main focus. As far as jewelry making, I’m mostly self-taught. I learn new techniques by either looking it up online or taking a class. I make a variety of products and I use a lot of vintage supplies/other items not usually associated with jewelry. I make button necklaces and necklaces using vintage spools of thread. I’m just getting into hair accessories now, so I’m hoping to get some of those listed in my online shop soon. The other main products that I offer are embroidery patterns and kits. I draw the patterns myself and am hoping to expand the products that I offer in terms of illustration.
How did you get the idea for IndieSacramento? Is it a one-woman show or do you have a team of supporters?
IndieSacramento began as a one-woman show in December of 2007. I had participated in a few Bay Area shows that specifically catered to a hip and fashionable crowd. Knowing the amazing amount of talent we have in Sacramento, I wanted to start an event like that here. Cities like Austin, Texas, and Portland, Ore., have reputations as being hubs for creative people, but I’m willing to bet we have just as much talent right here in Sacramento. I thought if we banded together with other independent businesses we could start to create a buzz so big that it would put Sacramento on the map [of creative places].
In 2008, I was approached by the Midtown Business Association—they wanted IndieSacramento as part of their big annual holiday celebration. I enlisted the help of three of my friends and again we put on a fairly successful event. Ultimately, the event wasn’t bringing in enough money to keep it going successfully, and we were all donating huge amounts of our time to the cause. It got exhausting. We already had a large event planned for May of last year so we worked to create an even bigger and better event than we’d had in the past and decided we would decrease the frequency of the events to annual or bi-annual as originally planned. At this point, I had only one other partner, Stacey Ball (www.pillsplace.blogspot.com). Despite the rain, we had a huge line of patrons waiting when we opened the show at Fremont Park last May. I was blown away by the support and following we’d developed.
What do you hope to accomplish with it?
At this point, I am planning to keep IndieSacramento as sort of an online collective, where you can shop our vendor goods online. I also update the IndieSacramento blog frequently (www.indiesacramento.blogspot.com) with other local events that our vendors participate in. We do have one more event coming up, however.ÂÂ
When is the next event?
We were invited to hold an event at The California Museum as part of Women’s History Month. The event will be held on Saturday, March 20, 2010 from 10 a.m.-3 p.m. We will be handing out mini swag bags to the first 50 patrons. On top of that, the museum is offering free admission that day, so it’s a great family-friendly event. There’s more info on the Web site: www.indiesacramento.com.
 Rumor has it you’re quite the D.I.Y. extraordinaire. How long have you been creating and designing? What inspires you to do so?ÂÂ
Aw, thanks! I’ve been creating and designing all my life. It’s just something I’m compelled to do. I love combining colors and textures”¦ I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t create!ÂÂ
What are some projects you’re currently working on?ÂÂ
I’m gearing up for the craft fair season so I’ve been busy making inventory. I’ve been making headbands and hair accessories like crazy. I’m also hoping to get a little silk-screening in, and I have a new embroidery pattern planned but it’s a secret.
Who are your favorite D.I.Y. queens?
Her style is so much different than mine, but I think Martha Stewart is a genius. I know she has a whole team of people coming up with ideas and projects for her now, but I’m still in awe of it all. She’s been featuring a lot of younger, hipper designers on her show too, which I think is great. Elsie Flannigan (abeautifulmess.typepad.com) is another favorite of mine. I find her work really inspiring. I’m guest-blogging on her blog a couple of times per month, which is really exciting for me.
 It seems like everywhere you look, more and more of the community is getting involved with blogging and social media. What are your opinions on the kind of impact this has on the D.I.Y. and handmade community? Do you utilize these tools to get the word out?
I think these tools are really great for spreading the D.I.Y. ethic, because they reach a wide audience. Blogging, Facebook, and Twitter are being used for marketing purposes by all kinds of companies so it’s only natural that they are working for crafters as well. Plus, social media allows you to bond with your customers. With online shopping, you lose that sort of face-to-face exchange but social media allows us that interaction with our customers.
 Any other plans in the works you’d like to share with us? What are some things you see yourself getting involved in this year?
I just signed up to vend at McMartin Reality’s Park Your Art event on Second Saturdays. I will be there every Second Saturday from March through October. Other than that, I’m looking to expand my product line and take my business to the next level.
Celebrate Women’s History Month with IndieSacramento on Saturday, March 20 from 10 a.m.-3 p.m. at The California Museum on the corner of 10th and O streets in downtown Sacramento. Also for more info visit www.peptogirl.com and www.indiesacramento.com.
The Scary Art Collective Brings Their Art to the People
A fault of artists is their inability to comprehend a recession. Despite being conditioned for poverty, artists on the Second Saturday circuit continue to tag their work with lofty prices, turning a cold and dented shoulder to the slimmed pockets that stroll through the galleries.
Nicolas Caesar does not have the privilege of letting his art remain in his possession. He’s got bills to pay. Call it low brow, call it tawdry, call it plebeian, but you can’t call it depreciated, as Caesar and his Scary Art Collective are selling their art before they can get it out of the boxes.
Chip Conrad, owner of Bodytribe Fitness, was the first to coin the collective. Four years ago, Conrad opened his fitness center to Caesar and his friends to use as an art gallery one Halloween, the only holiday that complements Caesar’s macabre style. “I remember getting this Myspace message asking if I wanted to show my art in a gym,” he said. “I totally thought I was walking into [a situation] of getting raped, but I’m like the girl who can’t say no.” Caesar did not get harmed, physically or emotionally; instead he formed a friendship that led to a love for the Sacramento art scene. It was a love that he described as a refreshing escape from the Bay Area scene.
From there, it became a repetition of faces. At galleries in Midtown or San Francisco, Caesar was showing his work and cheering beers next to the same few people. In this overlapping, Mark Fox, Temple Terkildsen, Cinder, Krissi Sandvik and Caesar began seeking each other out and sharing galleries. The loose organization has an unrecorded number of members, with an East Coast and West Coast branch. “Since we share the same territory, it’s a cross between Thanksgiving and AA,” he said. “We all share our tragic stories and our successes. Every Second Saturday is like meeting up with our second family.”
The art is mostly Gothic and dark, pulling inspiration from horror movies and the morbid subconscious. The artists share a magnetic desire to express their darkest thoughts, creating an organization comprised of your garden-variety goths to the criminally insane. Caesar is a pen pal with convicted serial killer Wayne “Skid” Lo, who is not a member. “Wayne is not officially a member of the Scary Art Collective,” Terkildsen said. “But, he does trade art with Nick.”
“My whole feeling about it is, the guy’s in prison,” Caesar said regarding his lack of concern. Caesar bought a piece of Lo’s art called Flushy the Toilet Monster. All of the proceeds from Lo’s art go to the victims’ families. “I’m gaining the Gilligan’s Island of strange and weird people [in my life],” Caesar said. “Weirdness is attracted to us.”
Living among the proletariat, Caesar is a self-proclaimed artistic anarchist who disregards the traditional rules of gallery art. He markets his work to the collectors and appreciators that keep a 30 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in their refrigerators and eat Top Ramen to get by. “I sell to my own demographic,” he said. “[Artists] don’t really understand who collects their art”¦ Artists have to go back to catering to the people.”
Terkildsen said the members of the collective are firm believers in the bartering system. On a slow night, she’ll trade two cases of beer for her art. “I’ve traded a painting for a haircut,” Terkildsen said. Essentially, they sacrifice the pompous satisfaction of selling one great piece at top value for the opportunity to put hundreds of pieces in as many living rooms as possible. Caesar and Terkildsen do not hesitate to call themselves art gypsies.
For Caesar and Terkildsen, the collective is an extension of their daily routines. Terkildsen said she works her shitty part-time job, works on art for four hours at home and then spends the remainder of the night at Caesar’s home drinking the Blue Ribbon and watching campy horror films. With work habits like that, the duo produce more art than they can store in their homes, making the bartering system all the more necessary.
“I’ve actually timed this,” Caesar said. “I can make three pieces to the movie Escape from New York.”
They are unapologetic in their merits. Both artists recognize the critiques that can be made of their leftist perspective, but they seem to revel in the judgment. Caesar said the collective’s strongest attribute is a lack of competitiveness in a cutthroat profession. Before founding Scary Art, he was frustrated with the unwillingness of his contemporaries to share galleries and the snootiness that comes with a saturation of artists. The Scary Art Collective aims to redefine the relationship between artists and galleries by operating outside traditional spaces. The collective has had shows in adult boutiques, tattoo studios, S&M clubs, gyms, coffee shops, bars, horror and comic conventions, warehouses and churches. Caesar likes Sacramento because of its bounty of unique spaces run by down-to-earth people.
Terkildsen described the horror of galleries outside of Midtown, expressing a loathing for curators who proclaimed they could not show her art due to its pricing. “You’re in a fine art gallery with a bunch of fuckheads you’d never talk to and you think, ‘Wow I really can’t stand this,'” she said. “Immediately, I want out and to be doing a show with Nick. I prefer the open flea market of Midtown.”
Ritually our conversation came back to PBR and living a life without the knowledge of which fork is for salads. To the affluent, this might seem like a life devoid of taste, but Caesar and Terklidsen’s art reflects a deep-seated passion for beer and cheap horror films. Read any of his comics and you’ll find black humor applied to boozed-up zombies. They share a distaste for the art critic, or in Caesar’s mind, the pastime of gremlins suffering from insomnia. “It’s a useless occupation,” he said. “For as many pages as an art critic can write, there’s going to be that person that goes into an art gallery and says, ‘You know what? I like skulls’ and buys our art.”
Terkildsen sees no glamour in an artist living off corn tortillas from the dollar store, nor does she have kind words for art critics. She keeps doing art for the feeling that comes from hearing the excitement in a few little girls’ voices at a recycling show. “I was fixing this skeleton inside this sculpture only to hear two little girls [exclaim], ‘Wow, that’s awesome,'” she said imitating their childish wonder. “How do you put a price tag on that reaction?”
Making Caesar and his friends into scapegoats for lowbrow art would only validate their convictions as monsters of the art form. Growing up, Caesar sympathized with the plight of the monsters in movies—Dracula’s eternal life, the Wolf Man’s inability to control his animalistic hunger. He sees the humanity in these pariahs. It brings to mind Caesar’s drawing of a zombie ghost feasting on a person’s head with the caption “What?! It’s what I do.”
“I was the oddball,” he said. “I was the weirdo and the freak. As an artist you’re perpetually shit on. It’s right back to the peasants and the pitchforks.” He takes comfort in being the artist who stands out from the landscape paintings, by being the guy next to the canvas bearing a bloody headless image.
On Saturday Oct. 24, 2009, Terkildsen and Caesar had a gallery showing and costume party at Side Show Studios at 5635 Freeport Blvd. Ste. 6.
Oakland artist Jesse Hazelip’s mixed-media artwork has captivated viewers throughout the Bay Area and beyond, in locations such as Los Angeles’s Thinkspace and Abacot Gallery and The Space in Chico, Calif., to name a few. The political commentary in Hazelip’s art is not subtle. Many of his pieces illustrate the stark contrast between the destructive nature of mankind and the peaceful beauty of the natural world. The results are unsettling: A buffalo’s body attached to the nose of a fighter plane, or a heron’s body with the head of a deadly weapon, flying across a geometric sky.
Hazelip’s art is evocative of a wall covered in colorful graffiti—pointing to his origins as a graffiti artist. “I used to be really deep into graffiti, and I would always try to paint something different each time I went out,” he explains. As you can probably imagine, this got him into some trouble during school. The rebellious teenager inside of him might be tamer now, but certainly isn’t absent. “I am currently trying to refine my aesthetic into a cohesive body of work, and create a visual language of my own,” he says.
True to his roots as a graffiti artist, Hazelip prefers to show his work where it can attract the most attention. “My favorite place to display my work is on the street, in public domain, in hopes of creating dialog amongst the Proles,” he says. For example, this past February one of his creations could be found on the wall of a building in the Mission District of San Francisco.
While these graffiti-like pieces give the illusion of spontaneity, in actuality he has put considerable effort into every finished piece. “I collect reference and read about potential paths I want to explore. I do tons of small rough drafts, and sometimes large fully rendered drafts,” Hazelip explains. “But the drawing is always the most time consuming aspect of any of my work.”
Considering that most pieces are literally larger than life, the finished products are impressive. “Scale is very important to me, and the gravity of larger pieces has always resounded with me. I like to make things life-size or larger, something you have to stand back from to fully appreciate, but also draws you in to inspect the detail,” he says.
These large-scale pieces are fitting for his subject matter. His themes generally include social issues that he feels need to be addressed, such as war. He uses a variety of mediums to get his message across, and is currently working with everything from drawing and painting to print and mixed media. “I love drawing with practically anything that makes a mark, and the same with painting,” he says.
Hazelip received his BFA from Art Center College of Design, and for now, he pays the bills as a commercial illustrator. Someday, he hopes that he can devote himself completely to his own artwork, stating that his goal is “making my art for a living, not having to answer to an art director, having complete artistic freedom.” He is optimistic that although art may not be the easiest career path, it’s the right path for him. “Art is a rough trade, especially in today’s economy, but that’s part of the struggle,” he says. “It’s really hard work, and artists get exploited a lot, but it’s all a learning experience.”
Hazelip’s most recent collection is entitled Tempest Turner, and is aptly named after a WWII bomber plane. In these pieces, Hazelip continues to explore the dark contrast between mankind and the natural world, questioning whether man will ever learn from the mistakes of the past. This collection will include a variety of mediums, such as silkscreen prints, acrylic on wood, ink on paper and mixed media on found wood.
His hopes for his art are far-reaching, and he says he has several dream galleries in large cities like San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York where he would love to show his work—as well as taking the creativity with him and traveling overseas. But no matter how famous he becomes, he retains the humble goal of using art as a communication vessel: “I feel that I have a responsibility as an artist to voice concern with my craft, to seize any platform I can and use it for a greater good.”
Going to Second Saturday? Jesse Hazelip’s new collection, Tempest Turner, will be shown at Space07, located at 1421 R. Street, Sacramento. The collection will be shown from June 13 through Aug. 9. You can also check out his work online: www.jessehazelip.com and jessehazelip.blogspot.com.
When Submerge caught up with local artist Gale Hart, she was building, of all things, a skateboard ramp in her studio.
“I think I started [skateboarding] when I was 17, 18, when they started building skate parks,” Hart says. “I saw a skate park and said, ‘Oh, I’ve got to learn how to skate.'”
Over the past few years, the 53-year-old artist reports that she has been “really into” skateboarding. While it may not directly affect her art, she does say that the frenetic activity is strangely relaxing.
“It’s one of those things that you have to be completely present while you’re doing it, so it takes me away from any stress,” she explains. “It’s like nothing else I’ve ever done. I’ve bicycled and you can daydream and stuff while you’re bicycling, and it’s not like you have to be consciously alert.”
It may not be what’s expected of a woman in her 50s, but doing what’s expected hasn’t had much sway over Hart through out her life. Just out of high school, she spent much of her time living on the road, in a van, traveling to parks and malls where she would ply her woodcarvings. She recalls, “Back then, malls were really high caliber, a lot different than they are now. It was like a way artists could promote themselves.” But further back than that, Hart remembers realizing her talent for drawing at age 12, though the work she was producing at the time was quite gruesome.
“I started drawing seriously when I was around 12—I mean real morbid, dark stuff,” she says. “Other people started noticing that I had talent, but they had such an aversion to what I was drawing—knives through hearts, daggers through ears and just weird things that pre-teens kind of do.”
Though she says, “I actually don’t think I ever wanted to do anything when I grew up for a living,” Hart eventually settled into her role as an artist, a role that she says comes with great responsibility.
Over the years, she has worked in many mediums—such as photography, sculpture and painting—and has also helped promote the work of others through her gallery A Bitchin’ Space. She has also been curator for shows such as the Circus Art Show, the second installment of which featured live performers, over 100 artists and attracted over 3,000 visitors (including the mayor of Sacramento). She says that experience “kicked her ass,” and now, after a four-year break, Hart has returned to painting. Her latest work can currently be seen at the Solomon Dubnick Gallery as part of The Animal Within exhibit, which will host a Second Saturday reception on Feb. 14, and will be on display through Feb. 28. On very short notice, Hart was kind enough to answer a few of our hastily formulated questions.
5 Points
You were talking about drawing really gruesome images as a pre-teen, and I noticed a link on your site to Artbrut.com, I think. I was wondering if you consider yourself an outsider artist, or if you align yourself with the art brut movement.
Well, with the lowbrow movement, I think things changed in my age. I was doing stuff that’s popular now back when I was a teenager. It didn’t have its day then. Defining myself, I think I’d say I was more self-taught. I’d say that the fact that I didn’t go to an art gallery until I was in my 30s, I guess you could kind of consider me in that genre (outsider art), but I’d go more with self-taught.
A lot of the images I saw of yours were frightening—even the funnier ones. One image from the Why Not Eat Your Pet series features some of the Seven Dwarves surrounding Porky Pig. Are you hoping to shock people who view your artwork?
Well, no, I’m hoping to educate them. I’m hoping that my ability as an artist is interesting enough that people take the time to stop and look at my work because of my skill, and then they’ll get the message.
People are really attached to Warner Brothers and primarily Walt Disney characters. People just have this affection for them, especially my generation and people from their 30s to about their 60s. When you do something with the Walt Disney characters that’s out of the norm, people freak out. They get in your face. And I think, well at least they’re paying attention, but it’s interesting to me because I could take the same content and not use a recognizable character and people will not get the same attention the Disney characters do. I find that really interesting how they care more about the Walt Disney character sometimes than they do with what’s going on in the message and what they’re participating in with their lifestyle.
That’s interesting. I guess people really take those characters to heart.
Yes, I don’t think my intention necessarily is to shock. I think art is a great tool for raising consciousness. I think artists have a responsibility—when they really discover that inside themselves and see what their work evokes in people. Not just, “Oh wow, you’re a great artist,” or, “Oh wow, your technique is good. How do you make those surfaces?” When people come up to me and go, “I really get what you mean,” and, “Oh, man, I didn’t know that happened,” then you just start to be responsible and realize, “I’m really affecting the people who see me.” As an artist, you’re public. I think that comes with a certain amount of responsibility. If you want to really contribute to helping the planet or humankind, I think then, when you know that you can do that, that people will make the right choices as artists, and I did. I just can’t sit around and paint pretty pictures or blow people away with my talent, or all the normal things that the ego drives within art. All of those things are going to remain in my art, but I feel more obligated to talk about how we treat other species.
Bully
The relationship between man and the animal kingdom seems to be a common theme that runs through The Animal Within paintings and your other work. Is it just a hope to educate that draws you to those themes?
How we treat animals reflects who we are as a society, so it’s not just about the animals. It’s about who we are as humans. We’re taking creatures that are so sensitive and so innocent”¦innocent beyond belief. They’ve created no problem in the world other than doing their job, whatever their job might be as the animal they are, and we’re just destroying them and destroying everything else around them. It’s mostly just, “Knock it off.” Come on, people, just knock it off. You have so much power and control. I mean, if someone doesn’t eat an animal, they save a life. The average person eats 83 animals a year. I save 83 lives a year by not eating them. That’s pretty empowering. It’s about raising awareness. If it was about shocking people, I could do that. I could do that to the point where it makes them turn their heads, but I want to invite people into my work and at the same time, I want to put that information out there too.
I wanted to ask you about one specific painting in the exhibit, which also appears on our cover (see below), Forced to Wear Make-up. A lot of the painting is silhouetted, but there’s a small section, an animal’s face, that’s a lot more detailed. Would you mind talking about that piece a bit?
I like that juxtaposition of either pencil and paint, or mixing mediums so maybe they
have a collage element to them. Actually, I don’t really care for collage work that’s done with not an artist’s own work. I like it when artists use collage within the context of their own work.
For that piece, those silhouettes were two people I knew. What I was looking for was something that was super flat, and at the same time, there’s a lot of content and energy in the work too. I like that juxtaposition”¦ Property
Basically, it’s an abstract painting, and that abstract has got a lot of dimension to it. It’s got highs and lows. But then all of a sudden, when it becomes a figure and it becomes the silhouette, it loses all that. You can’t see the depth. I find that as an illusion, kind of, so I’m kind of interested in that. Now mind you, that all this work is experimental. All you’ve seen is all the work I’ve done, and I did that in a month. Basically, Jan. 1 I just started painting. So to talk about it is a little difficult, because it’s new to me, too.
In Forced to Wear Make-up, you have a silhouette of a very violent image, but the background is a very gentle pink. Is that something you planned on when the image was in your head, or is that something that came up while you were painting it?
In everything I do, I try to make the background this really inviting kind of pastel, sweet, soft color. And the movement in the abstract is all dark and dreary or bloody looking. It’s the dichotomy and hypocrisy of us as humans. That’s what some of that intention is with using soft pastel colors with stuff that’s really brutal.
A slice of watermelon, a coffee pot, a steaming train; these things may mean nothing to you, but to the person on your left the same random objects could strike a nerve. In a good way.
When abstract/surreal artist Fernando Duarte had his first Sacramento art showing at The BrickHouse Art Gallery years ago, something extraordinary happened. One Oak Park woman was so touched by one of his paintings on display that she insisted on taking it home that evening. “She just had to take the painting that night,” remembers Duarte of the rare but welcomed occurrence.
“She experienced the same thing I experienced.” Duarte goes on to say, “She later sent me this letter that said, ‘Things happen for a reason.'”
As Duarte carefully pulls the hand-written letter out of a photo album and slowly handed it over he softly said, “That letter to me is more than anything people pay for art. That made me feel like sometimes art really touches people. When that kind of stuff happens, it’s amazing to me.”
Before heading to his current show entitled ABSURDA (an anagram of abstract, surreal and dada) at Inferno Gallery, Duarte graciously took some time out of his Second Saturday afternoon to speak with Submerge in his Midtown studio on topics ranging from “fast food art” to mocking reality.
Were you introduced to art at an early age?
I was born into a family of artists in South America. I am the youngest of seven; four of them are painters and artists. When I was 4 or 5 years old, I used to go to the art school with my brothers. I have no notion of anything else, I don’t know anything about accounting or medicine it was only art in my house. I had no choice; I had to become an artist.
Now that you’re a full-time artist, do you think of it as a regular job the way most people think of their jobs?
Yeah, it’s just like when you’re a monk or something, you cannot be an 8-to-5 monk [laughs]. I try to paint, draw and do prints daily. I go home, I sketch. If I’m at the studio, I sketch. Even if I travel, I sketch.
How did you come to settle in Sacramento after spending so much time in the Bay Area?
When I had kids somebody told me, “Davis is great.” Basically that was the first move years ago, back in ’80-something. I got divorced and moved back to the Bay Area but my kids were here, so they were the main reason to be in this area. Eventually I started working more in Sacramento and knowing more people. And when the economy is so crazy in San Francisco that not even the mayor can pay his own rent, they push you out: From San Francisco to Emeryville and from Emeryville to here. You pay per square foot [for a studio], so I told the guy, “Give me a square foot, I’ll do a 1-foot by 1-foot painting [laughs].” They brought in all the dot-comers and heavy industries. This is what happened everywhere I had been.
Back in ’05 you were quoted saying, “I see a lot of potential in the Midtown area.” Now that it has been a few years, what are your thoughts?
It’s amazing, it’s getting better and better. I think Second Saturday is a little bit cuckoo. It’s becoming what I call “fast food art.” But it’s good; at least it brings people out in the streets. What the people need to learn now is to divide the art, food and music. Sometimes people go into the galleries just like it’s a meat market for the wine and food and that’s it. Art becomes secondary. It still has great potential, though.
Is that why you had the ABSURDA reception before this Second Saturday, to avoid the crowds and the madness?
I did the opening last Friday because tonight I don’t think I will have time for buyers. People came from the Bay Area mostly, along with friends from Davis and friends from here. I like to be with them for one particular day without the whole crowd because I start to lose it. I don’t like openings anyways, but I do it because you have to do it. It becomes like a zoo, you’re like an animal in a cage and they analyze you and check your work. Now what they need to learn is to really understand art. People spend $200 eating sushi but won’t spend $300 on a print that will last forever. It’s an investment for yourself and for your future. Every time I sell something, I invest more than half of it back into art.
So you consider yourself an avid art collector then?
I have over 65 pieces. If I don’t do this stuff, who is going to do it? If you’re a musician, you buy music, you know? If I’m tight on money, I still buy art. It’s important.
I’m curious as to how you would explain your artwork to someone who had never seen it.
In words it’s hard to say. But I would say that it’s just mocking reality a little bit. I try to make a painting more real than reality sometimes, even if it doesn’t exist. I love the metaphysical or surreal point that you fake reality in a way. Reality can be anything but I like to play with the ambiguousness of reality and non-reality. You have to understand I was born in a town in a country where reality was so crazy. You can walk down the middle of the street and see a horse walking by.
When you’re painting are you thinking about how the piece is going to make people feel when they see it? If so, does that affect your work?
Yeah, sometimes when I’m painting I have this brainstorm in my head about everything, except money, honestly. I am even thinking about the person who is going to frame this work. I am thinking about how is it going to be looked at, how would it look upside down? What are the people going to think, what are they going to say? Painters forget about this, they become so involved with the painting, and that’s good but at the same time you have to think, “How are people going to react to this?” I’m not trying to please everyone and I’m not thinking about if it’s going to look good or bad in their living room, or if it’s going to look bad in their office. I don’t care about that. But I do care about feelings.
Artist 179 Taps into the Diversity of the Emerald City
Seattle-based artist 179 got her start in the art world in 1997 as a graffiti artist. In 2000, she graduated from high school, entered graphic design school and started gravitating more toward fine art. Now the artist finds herself facing what most would consider a good problem—rising notoriety.
“It is exciting, and I’m really hyped about all the work I’m getting and all the exposure,” she says. “But at the same time it’s stressful because, like, ‘What if I’m not good enough? What if I slump?’ It’s the ‘what ifs.’ I get a case of the ‘what ifs.’
In spite of the added stress, 179 reports that she has gone through “a really good inspirational period these last few months.” Local art enthusiasts will have the opportunity to see her recent transformation. March 8, 2008 marked 179 first trip to Sacramento for a Second Saturday. The artist will presented a solo show at UnitedState (1014 24th Street) where she collaborated with local artist Illyanna Maisonet to create a live mural painting. In anticipation of the event, 179 spoke with Submerge about her art, upbringing and frightening sermons delivered in Spanish.
Is the graffiti scene in Seattle pretty active?
It comes in waves. A lot of people travel up here, because we have the trains. We’re close to Portland, we’re close to Vancouver, and so we have people who come and go on their way traveling. There’s a small core of people who paint”¦I think Seattle is such a young city that it’s still developing its identity. A lot of people move away from Seattle—they move to San Francisco, they move to New York. It’s always in a state of flux.
Did you grow up there?
Yeah, I’ve spent the majority of my life in Seattle, but I grew up in a farm, migrant town, a little way out from Seattle—about two hours out. I got the best of country life and the best of city life.
Are your parents immigrants?
My father’s from Mexico, and my mother was born in Seattle, but her family’s from Texas—San Antonio. So, I have the Chicano [side], and my father didn’t really speak that much English, he spoke Spanish.
I noticed a lot of animals in your work. Why do you gravitate toward painting creatures?
I don’t want to necessarily put a face on a painting. When you put a face on a painting, it becomes tangible. It becomes, “Oh, that person is a woman, an Asian woman.” A lot of my women look Asian because I look Asian [laughs]. When you put a face on it, you’re able to give it an identity, but with animals not so much. Animals can be a great many things. They could be your spirit animal, or birds could represent freedom because they can fly. They’re not really subjects, but they can be ideas. And that’s something I really started doing just this year—painting animals. I’m really liking that direction, because the possibilities are endless as far as painting them.
You mentioned that your human characters looked Asian, and I noticed there was an Asian influence in your work.
Yeah, well my family is very multicultural. I have cousins who are Filipino and Mexican, and cousins who are Japanese and Mexican. And so when I came to Seattle from that small city, I had all these different cultures clashing together. I was really confused, because I didn’t understand. When I grew up, I had my father and mother, and they were Mexican, and my sisters were Mexican. We knew white people, and we knew that we didn’t like white people because that dividing line between the farmers and the farmers’ workers. We had those kind of social guidelines. In Seattle, there were all these different kinds of people, and I didn’t know how to categorize them. When I first saw your work, I thought there were a lot of religious themes, but the more I looked at it, I guess they’re more spiritual themes”¦
I grew up Mexican Catholic, and being Mexican Catholic revolves around fear and forgiveness. So, we’re constantly asking for forgiveness—like going to confession and stuff—and even in a roundabout way, asking the Virgin Mary for forgiveness. Going to church when I was little and having this priest yell at you in Spanish was very frightening [laughs]. It goes with the saying, “Putting the fear of God into you.” I came to Seattle, and it’s kind of the same, but it’s not quite as damning—the church I’m currently a member of. I’m not a practicing member, but I’m still a member of a church [laughs]. Don’t tell my grandma that, though.
A lot of the things that I find in Catholicism I don’t agree with, like the way they treat women. I also don’t think you should have to beg for forgiveness. You are who you are, and you try to the best that you are. I don’t think that being damned to hell because you were born with original sin is any incentive to be good. I think you should do good because you want to do good, not because you’re scared of hell. It is more spiritual because I think your connection to God is more spiritual than something in a book or a priest yelling at you in Spanish.
I take that Catholic iconography, and I make it spiritual, but I’m also kind of making a mockery of it, which my grandparents too terribly like. But they understand. I try to explain that I’m not trying to make fun, I’m just trying to figure it out. If I put a hot dog on a crucifix, I’m sorry. It just happens.
Are your parents supportive of your artwork?
At first they weren’t. At first it was graffiti, and it was vandalizing, and it was criminal, and they couldn’t understand that aspect. When I started doing more art, and I started going to school for design, they got more supportive. Now that I’m doing shows, they’re seeing the rewards of all my hard work. Because, you know, they’re family and their concerned: “Get a job, get married, have kids. You’re 25, why aren’t you working on a career and settling down.” Being Mexican Catholic, I should have five kids by now [laughs]. But they’re seeing it paying off and kind of breaking that mold of what it means to be a Latina these days. I don’t have to follow the same path that my aunties and my mom did.
