Wool Coat Prints. That's what I've decided to name this series. Originally, it was Anthropocene Coat Printing ( as a reference to Neanderthal Cave Painting) but most people don't know what Anthropocene means (it's the name of our current geological age). Plus, this title tells you: made by printing with coats.
Anyhow, after five months of boiling wool, here are the six completely finished, successful pieces, all freshly photographed, cropped and surrounded by a neutral border:
Wool Coat Print: Goddess 43"h x 53" wide, with built-in hanger.
Wool Coat Printing: X-ray Herd 43"h x 57" wide, with built-in hanger
Wool Coat Printing: Machine Operator 29"h x 24"w with built-in hanger
Wool Coat Printing: Machine Operator#2 29"h x 30"w
Wool Coat Printing: Goddess Mannequin 61"h x 31"w with built-in hanger
The backing and hanger on this one is a real piece of engineering:
Hanging from only 2 small nails, this piece will Stand. Up. Straight. against the wall. Which brings to mind a fun little book from 1967, A Stress Analysis of a Strapless Evening Gown, and other essays for a scientific age by Robert A Baker. My late brother-in-law, Don Belz, showed it to me.
What was I saying? Oh, yes, the last of the successful pieces:
Wool Coat Printing: Boro & Bernie, the Weerdinge Men 44"h x 29" w, with built-in hanger
About the titles: I've always hated titles like "Arrangement #4" or "#27". Oh, please! I understand the reason - the artist wants the viewer to form his/her own assessments. By keeping the artist/viewer relationship strictly visual, viewers are free to take what they will from the artist's efforts. OK. (Although I do feel that some artists should give us a little bit more substance to chew on). But what I'm doing isn't only ART - there's also archaeology here, and history. I'm not providing Rorschach tests for people to project onto - I'm presenting new perspectives on ancient images. I really hope that at least some viewers, after seeing my art, will be moved to Google more information..
If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you may be asking "but what about the other ones? The blue ones and that one that looked purple, etc?" Yes, well, they're still hunched together in my studio, mumbling and complaining and refusing to cooperate. At some point, one of them may stand up and tell me what they need to really sing. Or one may nobly sacrifice herself as spare parts in another piece. If they stay sulking in the corner, eventually they'll be in the trash.