Creatively, I consider myself a blue-collar artist. I did not go to a fancy art school or leverage a Yale MFA for the golden ticket into the art world. I make my art as part of my every day life. I sympathize with the every day workers specifically in the creative field. Right now there is a writer’s and an actor‘s strike in Hollywood, something that I personally support. In a larger sense, I am a supporter of unions protecting the rights of workers.
Recently, I joined a union myself. Not a worker’s union per se, though some might consider it an art workers union. I recently joined an online group, called the Union of International Mail Artists. This group has been active for decades, and centers on the sharing of artwork via the Postal Service. Their credo aligns perfectly with how I feel personally about my art. I believe in sharing freely and I really enjoy when art has no financial entanglements attached to it. The main activity of being a member of this group is finding mailing addresses of members on the UIOMA website and then sending these members artwork through the mail. It has been a satisfying endeavor so far for me, sending out my handmade postcards to strangers around the world. Perhaps even more satisfying is having random pieces of art show up in my mailbox on my front porch from time to time.
There is a subversive anti-establishment streak that permeates this group that appeals to my own small version of fighting the system. Sometimes finding like-minded people out there in the world is all a person needs to be reminded that they are not alone, and that they are on the right path.
The union forever!
2022:33 Here Is My Proof
PROOF
I’ve always enjoyed sharing my work freely with the world. What you give is what you get. I use the word “proof” in a general way; this work is proof that I am alive, proof that I see the world this way, proof of concept, proof to myself, proof to you, proof of love, proof of mortality, proof of my senses, proof that generosity is its own reward. I make these cards by hand and leave them for strangers at a special place. Maybe you’ll get one for yourself.
2021: 45 Proof
Thanks to my ongoing obsession with Austin Kleon, I purchased a rubber stamp this week. My idea was to get something I could use to mark my working photos. Especially since my Japan photo book completely sold out this week, I wanted to try to reappropriate the proof prints in some way. I went to a local shop near my studio, and the next day I had my “PROOF” rubber stamp.
It’s a curious word, proof. Photographers or printers use it to denote a working version of a print; something not intended to be the final work to be seen, shared or sold. However, the word also has there, nicer, broader meanings and uses. Evidence for one. A photo, in many ways, is proof, isn’t it? Evidence that I was somewhere, I saw this thing, and I documented it photographically, thus providing proof of… what? It’s existence? My existence? All of this and more?
I then started to think about proof in an even broader sense. The rubber stamp could be used to validate, to empower, to prop up, to sway a viewer. The bold red ink, the all caps san serif typeface, set in 42pt Helvetica Bold; it’s screams of validation. Of existence. PROOF.
I think I’ll be using this stamp much more than I originally intended.
Sage words from Dante.