A QUICK AMENDMENT

In the last post I talked about the subjectivity of jurying a show, but I shouldn't leave the impression that it's always so. A few years back, I was one of three jurors for a show in Vermont. We didn't agree about much, except that "Best of Show" should go to an amazing drawing by Cole Johnson. Sometimes there is but one possible answer to a question. So it was today. I just juried a show of animal art from middle and high school students of the Salt Lake City Public School District. There were some wonderful pieces, both two- and three-dimensional, but there was no doubt in my mind about who deserved the overall "Best of Show" rosette. It went to Oliver Morgan, a middle-school student who created the scratchboard above. It wasn't the most creative piece in the show--it had obviously been copied from a photograph of a fat old zoo Orang-Utan, but I was amazed that a kid yet unable to drive legally might be capable of such mastery of the use of value. And scratchboard is a difficult medium, since we learn to draw with dark onto light--working in reverse is extremely confusing at first. Congratulations, Oliver, on an incredibly mature piece of art. Keep at it--I'm not turning my back on you.
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ORANG-UTAN SCRATCHBOARD by Oliver Morgan

REJECTION

It's that time, again: the week when nature artists across the globe check their mailboxes for their jury results from Birds In Art, the premier annual exhibition of bird art sponsored by the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum in Wausau, Wisconsin. One hundred of those artists will receive the "big envelope," filled with forms that need to be filled out, and instructions for shipping their work to the museum. The remaining 500 of us receive the "small envelope," containing an encouraging pat-on-the-back and better-luck-next-time.

This year I submitted two works, Blue-crowned Motmot and Langsdorff's Coralsnake (above), and my ink wash painting of a poisoned Peregrine, Stargazing (below).
Yesterday, a second search of my PO Box revealed a slim envelope with the museum's return address, which, more often then not, is what I get from them. This was my 20th Birds In Art submission, and my 15th rejection--75% failure--not exactly a stellar record.
Last year I got lucky, and my magpie painting, Crash-barrier Waltzer (above), was selected for the show, after having been rejected the previous year. This year it was submitted for Art & the Animal, the big annual exhibition of the Society of Animal Artists. Results should be here in a week or so. I like this piece, and have high hopes that it will be included in A&TA, but art jurying is a subjective thing that can't be forecast. The juror considers a number of factors that are out of the artist's control. Besides looking for quality work, the total exhibition must be considered. Too many times, when jurying a show, I've had to reject art that I liked in the service of an overall show that was diverse, yet cohesive. Our own personal biases come in to play as well, and these can change from one day to the next. The same jury would come up with quite different results if they met a week later.

As artists, we can't take rejection too seriously, and likewise, can't pretend that accolades and awards mean more than they do. It's a common thing to see an artist receive a rejection for a work they're very proud of, and refuse to apply for that exhibition again. This, of course, hurts no one but themselves. Rejection remains a companion throughout one's career (at least that's been my experience), and it's important to learn to live with it. I can claim to be a rather ridiculous example of tenacity: I started submitting my work to juried shows at age 18, and received my first acceptance just a few months shy of my 30th birthday.
I consider last year's painting of an Oustalet's Chameleon, Sprawl (above), to be one of the best in my catalog, but that opinion doesn't appear to be widely shared. It was rejected by the 2007 Art & the Animal jury, and by this year's Artists for Conservation jury. Just the other day, though, I received the happy news that it's been accepted into Art of the Animal Kingdom, an annual exhibition which will be installed at the Bennington Center for the Arts in June.

ONE WORLD, MANY STORIES

Last Saturday, May 10, was Community Chalk-drawing Day in the Salt Lake City Public Library System. At each branch (save the main one), a local artist was invited to create a sidewalk drawing depicting a story from his/her life, and encourage others to join in. I took my post at the library in the neighborhood of Sugarhouse, and decided at the last minute to draw a composite of several childhood memories of wild animal sightings/captures. Never having worked in the medium of sidewalk chalk, I struggled some. I love to contrast value in my work. I always found the Impressionists' use of nothing but color temperature to give space to their work impressive, but boring, and painting in a single uniform value is a challenge for me, but a seriously positive exercise.
The best part of the day, though, was watching the work of others take shape. Below are some of my favorites.
"Octopus Man" teams up with a hedgehog to threaten the Plumridges' family crest.
A young photographer's tools, Snoopy, a penguin, and a wonderfully graceful (maneating?) plant.

Utah has been a dance Mecca for many decades, and there's no sign of that changing.
Two small but ambitious and skilled boys drew an entire reef community.

Hallie's parents should keep a watchful eye when Ringling Bros. come to town.
Commuting in the early 21st Century.
For many kids, pets constitute a major aspect of life.

MASTERPIECES IN MINIATURE

The annual exhibition, Masterpieces in Miniature, will open tomorrow evening at Picture This! Gallery in Sherwood Park, Alberta. My painting above, of a Spectacled Owl will be offered for sale there, as well as the Casque-headed Treefrog painting I recently posted about. You can see both paintings here. I'd love to go on, but, having just turned fifty today, I'm going to go take a nap instead.

KINKY KESTRELS

Well, it's mud season here in Northern Utah. Not much point in trying to get out, and I'm used to spending this time of year with my nose to the easel. I haven't even found it in myself to write much lately, even with plenty of material at hand. For now, I'll just post this rather surprising photograph that my friend Steve Chindgren recently took of some unusual copulatory technique. Check back later for posts on bat conservation, oil palms and other sundry items.
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kestrel photograph by STEVEN R. CHINDGREN

WATCHING PAINT DRY -- part ii

I posted my last stop-motion painting clip feeling confident that my new cable release bracket would be the solution to my camera movement problems. As usual, the ghost of Robert Burns seems to have bitten my well-laid plans in the butt. My brilliant little invention forced the threads of my camera's tripod acceptor, and stripped them, causing this to be my jumpiest clip yet. Appropriate that the painting should be of a frog -- specifically, a Northern Casque-headed Treefrog (Hemiphractus fasciatus), a bizarre little fellow that lives on or near the forest floors of Colombia, Panama, and possibly Costa Rica. Long considered a member of the typical treefrog family, Hylidae, today the five or so species of casque-headed frog are believed to have diverged from other frog taxa some time back, and are generally given their own family.

Wobbliness notwithstanding, the clip shows a detailed underpainting laid down in raw umber. The board is then tinted, and the hues and values of the various components are laid in. Once a basic foundation of the subject is down, it is masked with liquid latex to protect it while the background is painted. With the background established, off comes the latex, and the final coats of paint are brushed on.

Once I've found a used digital camera with manual settings and an actual cable release port, I'll dedicate it to my animation stand, and once again, I find myself feeling confident. Hopefully I'll have the whole thing together in time to film the next painting: a portrait of a Spectacled Owl (Pulsatrix perspicillata) that's sure to have the best production values yet. Stay tuned.

If you can't access the video embed, click here.

KRUPP-TING THE DIALOG ON CLIMATE CHANGE

For a long time, attorney Fred Krupp has been thinking about environmental issues, and viewing them through his own peculiar, narrow little lens. He's currently president of the Environmental Defense Fund, and a tireless peddler of the pretty little lie that all solutions to environmental problems lie within the capitalist marketplace. He'll be in town on Saturday to tell us how to halt climate change. Where will he be speaking? At Sundance Ski Resort, over 50 miles away from Salt Lake City. Sorry, there's no public transportation to Sundance. Tickets for the lecture are 95 bucks. Get 'em while they last.