Inna Babaeva

I always forget how accessible and charming Long Island City is. Socrates, PS 1, a pint at the LIC bar and all this just across the kosciuszko Bridge. I headed that way the other day to visit with artist Inna Babaeva. Her studio is just off Vernon Ave -- convenient. Up a few flights and down a long hallway we came to her space, our voices echoing with the emptiness of the corridor. It was spooky-cool in there. Inna's studio opens up to quite an amazing view of Manhattan. Well, as she explained, until a high rise was built in front of her view of the Empire State and Chrysler buildings. I was still impressed. There were quite a few new pieces in the works the day I was there, but our initial conversation was about the pure and beautiful functions of a simple magnet. Inna explained to me the many uses of this secret tool for her; from insuring an efficient breakdown, to making a sleek install in a high place possible, to invisibly attaching the tricked-out features that she so often adds to her sculptures. Her face lit up with excitement in her very special Inna way as she showed me the incredible strength of one of her magnets.

With two very different and equally realized types of work in Inna's studio, I was struck by the electric push and pull within her practice itself. At one end of the spectrum she has made alarmingly florescent orb-like structures out of spray foam that, with their curious relationship to the biological, almost seem to give off a life like pulse. These pieces are often juxtaposed with hard surfaced objects: be it a shiny metal bucket, a small plexi-glass vitrine, or a sharply angled, light reflective crystal ball. The color that this spray foam receives, in its multi-layered technique, is so well planned out it can give the object the appearance of having deep crevices, almost reminiscent of a distant planet's surface. In order to gain this effect, Inna explained that she might first spray paint the blob with lighter, brighter colors, then go darker in value, then lighter once again. A shocking pink broke through the surface of one of the works as it dangled new-age crystal teardrops above the bucket bellow.

And the other work in her practice uses the same hyper-bright spectrum of color, but much different structural form. Immediately, I related these works to the architecture found just outside the studio window, with their slick reflective surfaces that matched seamlessly with the simple wood often used at the beginning of a buildings construction. I also enjoyed her obvious obsession with the very seductive qualities of Canal Plastics, imagining her lost in the isles excited by her newest plastic find. Several of these perfectly-crafted wooden frames might later be hinged together to form a multifaceted accordioned shape, able to grasp the wall that rounds a corner or divide the length of a room, once installed. Or maybe she will leave them unhinged, leaning inwards, huddled together like a translucent cityscape. Not to be overlooked are the appendage-like add-ons found here and there that give them a sly familiarity, begging the question "how does that function?"A few of the frames had wheels at their tops. It made me want to flip them upside down and give them a spin. The viewers' imagination in the structures' future uses made for a nicely interactive moment.

Inna and I had lots of topics to hit, with our beers and art materials in hand. She shared with me the journey leading up to her move to NYC,  her love of collection, from shells to chairs, and her often humorous and serendipitous experiences of apartment hunting. She is a fabulous story teller and with each story comes a gentle look at life in all its bizarre shapes and sizes. I am jazzed to see these pieces complete, and equally jazzed to have spent the day in sweet Inna's studio. To check out more go to http://www.innababaeva.com/.

Matt Jones

On the edge of Williamsburg a couple weeks ago I walked over to do a visit with artist Matt Jones in a building I had yet to explore. I was greeted with a firm and friendly handshake at the front of the building by one of Matt's studio assistants, Josh Freydkis, early that morning. After winding our way past what seemed to be a fashion shoot in the works, we got to the entrance of Jones' space. It was packed floor to ceiling: scattered with primed and ready canvases, bicycle chains, light tables, a batman figurine, and remnants of his earlier works and installations. I was then introduced to Jones' other lovely assistant Emily Means. Instantly digging the jovial and animated vibe this trio was giving off, I knew it was going to be a lively day of drawing and making. Finding a spot in the corner, I watched their studio day unfold. The first step was to send Josh out for some more paint and of course, more coffee. As they talked over what colors to buy I couldn't help but chime in, remembering fondly my own days of being a studio assistant.

There are many different types of work under the umbrella of artist Matt Jones. The day I was there Jones was preparing to work on a group of paintings he will soon recreate abroad for a two person show with Kadar Brock at Horton Gallery in Berlin that will open February 25th.  He met Kadar in 1998 where they shared a studio wall between them in their senior year at Cooper Union. Jones explained that he likes to make the work for an exhibition while in the place where the exhibition will be. Given that he calls this particular group his "Energy Paintings," this seemed more than appropriate. Conjuring up a form of this physical energy (be it cosmic, supernatural, or just plain kinetic) in this super-real step of pre-installation gives the work a particular kind dynamism. It is as though a surging force is carried from Jones' studio in NYC to its new home on the canvas in the gallery abroad -- like a magic trick.  I saw the show he was in last month at The HOLE and could totally feel the sublime energy that the paintings give off: in the dizzying motion of the mark, the slippery glossiness of the surface, and their garish aurora borealis-like colors. By getting to know Jones' spirit as well as his work during my time in his studio, it was clear that his intensity of humor and outlandish behavior carry through into the work as well.

Once Josh returned with the paint, Jones and his crew mixed up several containers of color before Jones began to pour the paint down on a large sheet of plastic. He danced around the plastic, gesturing above it slowly in order to be specific in each color's placement. There is a real fine art to pouring and Jones has a certain finesse for it. As his assistants and I watched on, he kept up his comedic banter, entertaining us all while he worked. Once he finished this step he began to put the canvases (prepped with black gesso) face down on the paint. He then stepped on the back of the canvas to insure that the paint would take to the surface, leaving behind colorful ghost-like sneaker marks on its underbelly. With each one, he used a different flick of the wrist to raise the piece off the plastic, leaving each canvas with a distinct personality. Later, once they have dried, he will coat them with a water based polyurethane, slicking them up in their final steps of completion.

Another group of work that Jones makes is based in photography. He takes photos of himself as a character or personality. These personas sometimes arrive in costume, giving melodramatic stances, or making freakishly outrageous expressions. Jones then reduces them to a black and white photocopy in order to continue their transformation. He might then blow them up very large to make cutouts of the figure, later placing them in the center of a gallery. He also lays them out on a light box with a piece of paper on top in order to directly recreate them as ebony pencil drawing soaked with paint thinner. Jones' work seems to relate to mass production, both in its execution and its reference to the zines and music flyers of our younger years, so heavily coated with inkjet black. Above all, laced with humor and horror, this body of work has a really active and improvisational presence, as though each piece is a personality in the fantasy world that is Matt Jones' art.

Matt and Studio assistant Emily at work.

This is another body of work Jones' took out for me and one of his many visitors that day to look at.

Installation View: Evil Dead 2: Kadar Brock & Matt Jones, Horton Gallery, Berlin

With all the energy that was swirling around in the studio I ended up heading out before the rest were ready. I was totally spent, jaw hurting from laughter. I was told they were missing a crucial member that day, main assistant  Eric Wiley. This dude's ears were surely burning, they talked about him quite a bit. Jones ordered a pizza at studio half time and we all sat down to watch an episode of Walking Dead. They caught me up on what was going on, jokes flying of course. I had a real blast with them that day, even as an onlooker. Check out more of Jones' rad work at http://mjones.info/.

Rob Nadeau

For the third time now, I headed to Sunset Park to give a studio visit in the building that also hosts the studios of Hauser, Heidkamp and until this past summer, Wozniak. This time I was happy to be visiting with Rob Nadeau who has come to the building from Dumbo. These spaces are super sweet, always a nice amount of room for storage, fabulous windows for daytime light and famed sunset, and more then ample wall space. In the far right corner, bellow a couple of windows outlining the fast pace of the BQE, Nadeau had a keyboard and a bass guitar set up. Stuck on the wall behind the keyboard where some words with musical notes written out above them. His space acts, not only as an art studio, but also a music studio. What a great thing to be able to go back and forth from painting to playing in just a couple of steps. I imagine it would keep you active in those oh so frustrating down times in the process of making. Nadeau had up several pieces on the wall that where fairly new and had one piece laid out on the floor, a work in progress.

Nadeau's new works, with their array of hyper-subtle paint strokes, appear much bigger then they already are when looking at them for the first time. It is easy to feel your body engrossed by their otherworldly expanse. The pigments he uses are often laced with flecks of metal be it graphite or metallic paint. The surface glistens at times, its high and low lights changing depending on the stance of the viewer. It brought to mind the wash of water over a bed of mineral infused rocks or, as Rob spoke about quite extensively, the effects made by a step in photo processing. It is as though the large canvas had been agitated in a development bath, where the light and chemicals played on the surface, leaving behind flowing traces of movement.

Nadeau explained that he often works on the canvas on the floor before stretching it. You can almost see  the action of the swing of his arm in the marks. There were a bunch of rags used for this swing piled on the floor next to the painting. Rob and I talked about the time it takes to live with a painting when the placement of the paint can take seconds, but the next move can take weeks. You have to use a special kind of restraint to make this kind of work, in order to leave behind the details most important untouched. Nadeau has got it down.

He shared with me online images of the two sculptural-painting installations he had done a few months ago, one at Georgia State University in Atlanta and one at The University of Tennessee in Knoxville. It was a busy fall for Mr. Nadeau it would seem. For both of these shows he shipped completed work down from Brooklyn and went foraging to various locations around the two cities he was visiting to gather the rest of the materials for the installations. City site specific.

Installation view, Georgia State University, Welch Galleries in Atlanta, GA

There was so much to look at in Nadeau's studio, I wanted to lift up every piece of paper or drawing, to find the one underneath. I was lucky enough to have him bring out some small drawings he had made while teaching a semester at UT. He said he had used graphite stones from the shore of the Narraganset Bay in RI for much of these small works, drawing with the stones. One of them looked like it could be a ten foot tall painting as I held it in my hand gently not to disrupt its faint marks. I didn't get to hear Rob play his music during this studio session, but had heard him play weeks prior when he busted out some tunes on a piano at a party we were both at. Man can he jam, and so can his paintings.  Please check out more of Nadeau's work at http://www.robnadeau.com/.

Joe Ballweg

Pre-holiday craziness, I made my way to Ridgewood, Queens to visit the studio of Joe Ballweg. He has a very large ground floor storefront space which had previously been a knitting factory. The building  was sold to Joe and his two friends as the company was moving to South America, romantic in its history. The studio is organized for both the viewing and making of his work, a helpful step in any practice. Joe, being partial owner of this two floor building, not only has the cozy upstairs apartment to retire to, but also a tranquil backyard complete with bonfire. I was stoked to see several new pieces and the new directions they have taken. We talked over these new works, and had an extensive chat about the pop-up shows he has started to have in his studio. The second of these shows having just happened a week prior. Once he puts away his own work, there is a nice amount of wall-space for these exhibitions that he curates with artist girlfriend Andrea Bergart. He explained how he likes to show artists that don't already know one another in order to facilitate new connections between them.

Joe's paintings strike me at first as a kind of collage that operates without any actual foreign matter being attached to the surface, an optical illusion of sorts, the kind of illusion found only in the history of the work's process. Thoughts of maps, silhouetted figures, or meandering river beds also come to mind when looking at his sometimes intensely colored canvases. By butting one large winding form up close to the next, Joe leaves the viewer to decide which space operates as the negative and which as the positive, creating a charged vibratory line in-between the two. By playing with multiple abstract fields subtly, but with obvious direction, he allows the surface to capture these carefully considered lines, letting them act predominately along side of the other formal elements in the paintings.

 Each slight movement of the brush on the canvas, be it a splatter or a swoosh, showcases as a satisfyingly whispered detail. While I  was there, he had laid flat a painting on a couple of sawhorses. Mixing oil colors on the palette next to him, he gave the surface varied and exploratory gestural movements using multiple tools. My interpretation of the paintings resembling collage was confirmed when I saw that Joe does in fact layout pieces of paper on the painting's surface (as well as cut pieces of tape) to block out one section while working on another. By doing this, it is like he is working on more then one painting on the canvas at a time. And, later, at the end of the process, the two seamlessly come together as though worked on simultaneously.

Close up of a painting

As the visit winded down and we prepared to go upstairs for tea, Joe and I had a talk about our contemporaries, where we are as artists and how charged the scene in Brooklyn feels. His charmingly sarcastic grin reminded me that you have to take it all with a grain of salt to get the work done in the first place. Later, we were off to a yearly POI holiday party with White Elephant gifts in hand. Joe and I had a couple of swaps within this gift giving game. I ended up with the pure maple syrup I wanted after convincing Joe that the scarf I had been swapped out for would suit him better then me. Thanks for being a good sport, Joe. To see more of his lush oil paintings go to http://www.joeballweg.com/Home.html and keep an eye out for the next pop-up show in his studio.

Jay Gaskill

I have been following Jay Gaskill's work through all three years of his time at Hunter. As he approached his MFA thesis show, I had the chance to head uptown to make that stressful leap across Dyer Ave to the Hunter graduate studios to see one of his paintings in its final stages. It was during open studios, but fittingly, his door was closed and I was the only viewer allowed in that day. His space was surprisingly tidy, but I could see the remnants of frenzied production. The final painting Jay was working on is 8 1/2 by 18 1/2 feet in size; it swallowed me up as I entered the space, leaving me to only imagine the extreme anxiety that there must be on the maker's part in pulling off such a large piece, but Jay, as cool as a cat, was perfectly calm and focused, as expected. We walked around as he showed me other works he had made in his final year. And then, as there was a lot for both of us to do, we got down to it with our Balentines in hand, "Hunter style," as he put it.

Jay's pieces are extremely well considered; they would have to be for how seamlessly they are painted. I spent quite a while gazing at the one that he had just completed prior to beginning to work on his thesis. I found there to be a vast amount of visual navigation to do on the viewer's part. Does this corner's formation mirror that of the others'?  Does the center act as a mandala or are there breaks in its repetition? How is the white used? If not as a background, then as its own color? Tricking my eyes with its twists and turns, I occasionally arrived at somewhat familiar imagery. It was as though I was finally making sense of the pattern, the colors themselves subtly bringing to mind palettes from another era, the forms reminiscent of graphics familiar yet elusive. But alas, to my increasing bewilderment, the images would begin to blur into the background or be quickly pulled away from the vibrating surface. If this was a maze, I was happily lost, all the possible conclusions put before me quenching my intellectual thirst. Unsolvable can be so gratifying.

The corner of the studio had accumulated a pile of acetate that had obviously been used somewhere in his process, as Jay pulled out a few large sheets to show me which matched what painting it became clear how complex his process is. Obsessively deciding how the piece will be laid out, he paints onto the acetate possible patterns and then holds it up to the canvas. Not always satisfied, he might repaint the acetate and hold it up once again. He repeats this action over and over, making new configurations each time, until, in a moments notice, the right composition is found. Jay explained to me how much deliberation there was in working out his largest painting yet, -- the one he was propped up on a ladder for while I was there. Stupefied by this act, I realized how completely he is using time-honored systems of painting.

There is nothing quite like the juiced-up energy that exudes from an artist about to finish up a program. Jay warned me he was going to be working hard and late. He told me that I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted, but that he would be there well into the evening; he was right, I tuckered out after only 6 hours. I had such a fabulous day there with Jay, talking about our art, the art world, and our busy lives. He also filled me in on some crucial NFL developments. We took a break to walk around and visit some other studios, stopping to talk to various students in the hallway. It was obvious that everyone was as much a fan of Jay and his work as I am. I can't wait to see his thesis show next week! It opens on Wednesday the 14th (6-8pm) at the Hunter MFA Thesis Exhibition. Be sure to check out more of Jay's rad work at www.jaygaskill.us. 

Jess Fuller

I used to rent a studio in Greenpoint where I had the opportunity to get to know artist Jess Fuller. I was excited at the opportunity to revisit with her the other week in her very spacious live-in studio in Clinton Hill. Shortly after I arrived and was introduced to her lovely cat Buster, we sat down to have the tacos that she had prepared for us during our visit.  It was a soft fall evening and as we put away our dishes and got out our respective art materials, Jess began to walk me around the place, sharing with me her studios' most recent developments. She explained that she was preparing to ship her work to Denmark for a two person show with Sam Moyer at Galleri Tom Christoffersen that opens December 2 and that she was currently in a group show at SOUTHFIRST in Williamsburg. Her work and materials took up nearly every part of the apartment, hanging from the walls, made into mountainous-like piles in the corners, and organized factory style on the floor awaiting their next step of production. It made the place feel more like an installation than home or studio, perfect for a night of art making with full bellies.

Jess' current work wonderfully embraces and wrestles with one of the most common materials used in painting: the canvas. She delves into this historic fabric, meticulously tearing it apart with a gentle hand, freeing it from its usual two dimensional form and allowing it to arrive, anew, three dimensionally. Many things come to mind when looking at the "marks" she has left; they might create a downward swooping gesture (as though the piece is taking in an exuberant breath), or form a pendulous open-mouthed grin, or mimic torn skin where letters are spelled out from the scarring left behind. While I was there Jess was sitting in front of her couch methodically pulling away thread after thread from the center of a small sheet of canvas. This is just one of the many steps she takes in arriving at her works. Before she begins this part of the process Jess adds pigment to the material, canvases might be fully coated (as in the large black piece that hung ominously in room behind us), or hit with hints of color, as a wink to the minimalist gesture. Jess then puts it through a wash at the local laundromat to further frey the edges and distress the color. 

Photo I took at the group show TEXT/IMAGE at SOUTHFIRST

Lately, Jess has moved away from putting her altered canvases on stretchers which she had done in the past. Instead, she is using glue as a starch to stiffen the space around the canvas where the stretchers would regularly be. This, referencing the the ridged formations of the wood, while allowing the paintings to settle into themselves, giving the work an even more animated, or anthropomorphous feel. As one painting's body slouched down from the wall I couldn't help but touch it, captivated by its life-like girth.

Buster and art

Installation view of Fuller and Moyer's work at Galleri Tom Christoffersen, 2011

This was an evening visit, and before I knew it we were well past the midnight mark and onto the next day. I so enjoyed talking to Jess, looking up at each other from time to time as she expressively told me about all her life, where she grew up, her connection to the ocean and her endless travel experiences. I am totally taken by her work and excited to keep following it. Please go check out the group show TEXT/IMAGE at SOUTHFIRST and check back with Pencil in the Studio soon, I will post some pictures here of the show at Galleri Tom Christoffersen .

Ivin Ballen

 It had been years since I had visited Ivin Ballen's studio in Clinton Hill. You enter the space by going through a very well equipped wood shop, with various machines and wood shavings covering the floor.  Beyond the wood shop is a smaller studio space where Ivin paints his work after finishing it up in the shop. There is a long table in this room, of course handcrafted for its specific needs, that is covered with containers of Golden paint as well as the signature metallics he so often uses in his work. Above the table hung two box sculptures, some of the only few left in his studio. Ivin has been in multiple shows this season, he currently has work at Regina Rex in Bushwick, and Allegra LaViola in the Lower East Side. I was excited to get a peek at what he is up to now.

For several years Ivin has been making exquisite Trompe L'Oeil objects that appear to be made of the same packing materials that you might find in a studio, gallery, or museum. It is like he is doing studies of the tossed away materials that are used to take care of the art work as it moves from one place to the next, an interesting way to comment on the banal goings-on backstage in the art world. With all the necessary tools of a carpenter, Ivin begins to work on his meticulously crafted sculptural paintings. First, he creates a composition with the found materials, and then very carefully casts them. He described to me the trickiness of this casting system, how he has to build various armatures to hold the delicate parts of the cardboard in place. The two shown above were made for the body of work up at Allegra LaViola,  they are pretty literal renditions of simple boxes, you almost have to touch them to be convinced they aren't real. When he paints these aquaresin and fiberglass pieces, the tape becomes a more glamorous version of itself and the drab brown skin of the cardboard is elevated to an array of gratifyingly gradated colors. In other pieces, Ivin uses more than one kind of packing material, making found object-like sculptures that are painted with patterned motifs and strong, boldly colored shapes. These works are often partially covered in curious yet familiar textures that come well off of the surface. They are intriguing not only for their use of color and traditional minimalist compositions, but also their bizarre interpretation of everyday materials.

An install shot I took of the work up at Regina Rex.

While I was there, Ivin was making rubber triangle molds for tiles, which he has since brought to Pittsburgh to make casts of. He is working with a company that manufactures alternative, ultra high performance concrete tiles, among other things: http://taktl-llc.com/. He showed me the different textured surfaces he will explore, cardboard and wood being two of them. It was interesting to see what goes into this kind of new process experimentation. He was building a crate that would fit the molds, just so, in order to get them to PA, and explained to me how the box would hold the slabs by taking up the exact amount of space needed so as not to be wasteful. A carpenter at work.

This is a picture Ivin sent me from Pittsburgh of the first casting batch. 

I liked drawing with the noise of the band saw, a fall rain shower, and music steadily streaming from the background. It was so active and hectic in there. We both looked up periodically to comment on a tune or two that was playing (Ivin shared a lot of his musical interests with me). There was the great energy of the unknown in his studio that day as he worked on his new ideas. Please go to Regina Rex and Allegra LaViola before the shows come down and be sure to check out more of his work at http://www.ivinballen.com/.