Jeffrey T. Baker

In 2009 contemporary Icelandic composer Ólafur Arnalds created a composition a day over the course of a week collectively called 'Found Songs.' This suite of compositions has accompanied me more in the studio than perhaps any other, and I can safely attest that these songs have become intrinsically linked with a sort of pensive luminosity that has taken hold in much of my recent imagery. 

To my great excitement, this past week Ólafur released a collection of new songs for free download called 'The Living Room Songs.' They also contain moments of aching beauty and are available (for now) at:

http://livingroomsongs.olafurarnalds.com/

Pythia's Prospect
acrylic, toner, conté crayon, and wax on panel
6.75" square, 2011 — $330

What began as a process experiment took on a peculiar gravity as I proceeded to obliterate, and then bring back, the wind strewn hiss of a geyser.

I will make the assumption that the source material is from Yellowstone, but that is my default answer for any photo I own that contains geysers (and yes, I have found many more than one such image). Nevertheless, it was the thought of someone holding their head over such a noxious orifice to obtain insight into the fickly nature of gods that most captured my imagination.

Hence the (rather heavy-handed) title.

I guess if you're inclined to believe the LA Times or the Travel Channel website, then the place to visit in Portland is Voodoo Doughnuts. You see travelers in the Portland airport carrying the tell-tale pink boxes in lieu of actual carry-on luggage. In fact, while sitting at JFK airport in New York two weeks ago I saw a box of Voodoo being lovingly nudged through a disgruntled throng of morning commuters. And while I think Voodoo might say something truthful about Portland culture, I suspect it doesn't actually say much that is essential about Portland. 

If you want the essential Portland destination then I would refer you to SCRAP.

SCRAP sells recycled bits of detritus that its received as donations. While that may sound like countless other non-profit retail outlets you can think of, the big difference is that SCRAP sells its stuff (for lack of a better word) at ridiculously low prices. It's goal is to put art fodder in the hands of the masses, and it succeeds admirably. The clientele is actually eclectic, not just hipster-eccentric (although they find their way there too). I've watched people in SCRAP find objects that they immediately love— maybe they love them for their potential to be something else, or maybe they just love them for their living room. SCRAP appeals to the thrifty, the creative, and the curious: all of which are part of the spiritual core of Portland. When I buy things at SCRAP I linger over them and revisit them and treat them like the bits of treasure that they are, and I can do that without ever suffering from acid reflux on their behalf. 

Yesterday, SCRAP had an entire bin of 11" x 14" fiber and RC prints (in black and white as well as color) that a photographer had relinquished from his archives. Undoubtedly he'd gone digital. While many of the prints were product shots or early-90's big-hair studio lighting stock photography there were a few quieter gems: a muzzy black cat pawing across a linoleum wasteland, and a flock of birds creating a cloud of punctuation in the sky. Each cost a dollar. 

In a small tub next to them there was a small stack of images labeled MEDICAL PHOTOGRAPHY. I picked out half a dozen and then happily plunked down my two quarters. It intrigues me that in a digital world some of the finest and cheapest images I've encountered in months are printed on paper using very expensive imaging equipment. Obviously, that is a bit of circumstantial irony, which carries a lot more bite in Portland than fabricated irony.

Decadent Decline
acrylic, leafing, toner, and wax on panel10.5" square, 2011 — $450

Where does the allure of the chandelier originate from? Do we all fancy ourselves deserving of more elegance? Does sophistication come before, or after, the attainment of Venetian crystal? 

While visiting Italy a few years ago I was struck by the sheer ubiquitousness of chandeliers— here are a few snapshots to support my claim:

Of course, I'm willing to believe that chandeliers are a personal preoccupation stemming from an aesthetic inclination towards contrast. It might also have something to do with the subconscious comfort that comes with light conquering dark. The chandelier performs this with an opulent splintering of light that asserts not just the presence of a chemical reaction, but the very genius of man's imagination and handwork. 

The Act of Disappearing Completely
acrylic, toner, watercolor, powdered graphite, and wax on board
24" x 18", 2011 — $1,400

This seemed an appropriately titled image for the final weekend of my exhibit at the Oregon College of Art & Craft. I have heard from a number of folks that they've made it up into Portland's West Hills to take a look, and I want to thank you all for your support.

The Act of Disappearing Completely has stirred up more response than any other work I've completed these past months. In the show it is housed in an antique frame sprayed down with a thick coat of oily black lacquer. I believe that this finish contributes a tremendous amount of additional resonance to the work. It is one of those instances where the frame is designed to be a part of the piece, not simply offset the image.

Originally I had titled this work In and Under, because I was convinced that The Act of Disappearing Completely, which had been kicking around in my head for months, was the title of a Radiohead song. I finally dug through my albums only to discover that the song in question was actually called How to Disappear Completely. If you listen to it, I think it would be easy to draw a few parallels. . .

There are many who wish to be artists and many more who admire artists. For those in the former group I've decided to share a few reflections I've had regarding being an artist in the contemporary world (for those in the latter group, I salute you). Like most things in life, simple desire is not tantamount to success, so it is important to know what a life with art actually entails, and to understand what it is you are specifically looking for from a creative pursuit.

I believe that the single most important thing to being an artist, the proverbial stock to the soup, is receptivity. In order to be creative in any way one must be open to the inspirations and impulses that are at work in the world and in yourself. Now this isn't some vague prattle meant to skirt the nuts and bolts knowledge required to succeed as an artist; this is the very essence of why a select few are compelled to create as well as consume. 

There is a huge difference to viewing your day as mundane or profound, and the truth is that most people struggle with breaking free of the mundane perception. By way of example, let me simply work with the present moment: 

My legs are overly warm, which means that the computer in my lap is generating energy from the processing of billions of digits into information I perceive as pictures an words in a state of flux on a glowing screen. Countless electrical charges are firing throughout my body to indicate that my legs are both warm and under a bit of pressure from the weight of the computer which is under the influence (as all things are) from a gravitational force that holds the entire ever-growing vastness of the universe in some semblance of order. My heart beats without my registering it and my lungs are filled with a combination of gasses only made possible by the swaying greenery outside. A swaying greenery that, when stripped bare in the winter time, remarkably resembles the entire vascular structure of the circulatory system that delivers the life-giving gasses from the lungs through the action of the beating heart. I could go on, because I've only written one millionth of one second of possible perceived perception, but I think the point is clear.

The world, your world, is not mundane. Language and familiarity may make it so to aid us in keeping jobs, forming relationships, and communicating desire, but at no point in your life are you devoid of inspiration.

All of the successful artists that I know are interested in a wide variety of topics. Certainly they have their areas of special concern, but all of them value both ideas and experience. All of them remain open to questioning the boxes we draw around concepts, words, and perceptions. They play with the constructs of reality they were presented with in school and at home growing up because they recognize that, ultimately, the world is more full of what we don't know than what we do. In that regard, like scientists, they are pushing at the membrane of accepted perceptions. Unlike scientists, they may do it in a decidedly irrational or convoluted manner, with the success of the endeavor being measured more, to borrow a well-known cliche, by the journey than the destination.

Receptivity is a form of inspiration that I don't see discussed as much because it implies a more diminutive role for the ego than we are accustomed to granting artists. Certainly the state of receptivity is indicative of the personality at work, but the implication is that the world outside of the individual holds the majority of the mystery, and receptivity is simply a window to that awareness. This is somewhat counter to the rather heroic perception of the artist-ego as generator of mystery that has, for a variety of reasons too heady to enter into here, permeated popular perceptions of creativity since the Renaissance onward. To stand and honor receptivity is to state that the artist is not so much a force as a translator of force. It is to accept that even the creative life, when placed in the profound complexity of creation, is ultimately a very small one.

Nevertheless, I believe there is a profound satisfaction that comes from mirroring the magnificence of creation with individual expressions of creation. While some might say art is a type of tribute, others would simply state that the creative act strengthens one's receptive powers and thereby gives them an ever richer experience of life. Either way, it is important to remember that an artistic life is as much a relationship with those things outside of us as it is an expression of the personality within.