Think Tank Gallery, Los Angeles is an urban art gallery in a city that is realizing its post-street art potential. The gallery focuses on integration and progression with each show, and serves as a place to inspire with each event and exhibition shared within the historic part of Downtown LA it inhabits.
sleepyinzomniac asked: I really want to check out the gallery, the Paul Santoreli installation looks beautiful. I was wondering which days and times the gallery is open to the public. Thanks in advance.
You know, we aren’t actually hosting official gallery hours this month, but you have a couple of options.
1.) You can set an appointment by emailing thinktankgallery@gmail.com, or
2.) You can come to our next party on May 9th! Keep an eye on our FaceBook for details.
COMPUTER-GENERATED ART CONTEST SUBMISSIONS END TOMORROW
ArtSlant is mid-promotion of its highly-touted <ERROR 415>, which is currently accepting submissions for an exhibition on May 17th. An award of $415 will come alongside exhibit space at a screening, and exposure through ArtSlant’s Tumblr. Submissions are due by tomorrow!
Submissions are to be moving-image, computer-generated new media art that is representative of the experimental, critical and interrogative nature of this burgeoning medium. Sound and physical materials will not be supported at the installation.
Whole Beast Rag, whose two founders are resident artists at the Think Tank, host Mondays on the Think Tank blog. Their audience flirts with fringe, and you can find a link to their editorial at the bottom.
My thesis, my thesis, my thesis…keeps coming up this week (I apologize in advance for being that person). I haven’t thought about it in a couple of years, since I finished it, really (it was an exciting concept, poorly executed), but all kinds of related interactions and media breaking news flashes (especially from Boston) have been cropping up. So it’s been on my mind.
In addition to the bombing, I discussed a potential collaboration creating a post-apocalyptic scenario adult day camp, pushing people to and past the edge (I hope it becomes a cathartic enterprise). At Whole Beast Rag, our newest columnist Diego Báez submitted for publication a piece titled, “The Blind Watchmaker’s Near-sighted Timepieces,” on intelligent design and artificial intelligence. It was excellent, and obviously was part of the inspiration for this blog post (look for it soon). My boss, earlier in the week, sent me something and I was transported to an Internet press release vortex (the worst kind) where I found some info (in press release form) for ‘Sirius,’ a film that, “introduces a DNA sequenced humanoid of unknown classification to the world and sheds definitive light on the scientific reality of UFOs, ETs, and Advanced Alternative Energy Technology.” All interesting things. If I’d tried to put all of that into a thesis, though (just pretend with me that all of this had happened three years ago), I would have been institutionalized and probably wouldn’t’ve finished college, let alone my thesis. I didn’t know how to process that sort of thing back then. If I was coming across these things consciously, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But it’s not—it’s me learning to pick up on patterns which, in an environment such as the one I’m living in, become more and more apparent as you learn to look for the cues. This is something that isn’t a particularly new idea—the pattern thing—but sometimes it takes a while to understand.
I was in a science fiction literature class my last year of college. It felt dated, especially because the professor looked like Garrison Keillor, though the Arthur C. Clarke was good. I wish I’d taken the class before I’d finished my senior thesis; the senior seminar “theme” or “title” or whatever, was “Modern Materialities” (I’d applied for the nonfiction seminar). I could have figured the thesis out after the sci fi class, made it into something it wasn’t. Would have made for a less rocky and terribly-cited thesis. In the end, instead of using my otherwise-complete English degree for this thesis, I decided to go with my gut and talk about reality television for an academic paper. Thanks roommates (really).
I don’t remember the title of my thesis, and I don’t have any copies of it in Los Angeles. Things would have been different, I think, if I’d focused on hands-on post-apocalyptic projects such as the ones I’m now pursuing (I also thought about joining the Red Cross, though this was not quite right for me). But I’m not any worse off for having written a poorly-constructed thesis, I was busy doing what eventually made me want to do WBR; that semester, I was the Editor-in-Chief at my college’s literary magazine that no one read. When we were working on the magazine, it was visceral enough for me to engage in actual conversation about the heady seminar—less specifics, more big-picture things. It helped a lot.
I work to display patience in integrating different mediums (academic, creative, event/project/collaboration-based), which is an ongoing process for me. But I am too eager to know, in my own way and to the best of my ability, about the world around me to perpetually disengage if I don’t immediately understand in one medium; I’m still interested in these ideas, even if I’m not writing an earth-shattering/culturally revelatory piece on it. I want to know. I want to know I want to know.
I know now that I can edit a piece like Diego’s and WBR can throw an event at Think Tank Gallery in DTLA in the same month, and all the while I’m experiencing a thematic, integrated approach to the subject matter (in this case, WBR’s CTHTHONIC Issue) and to my life. There’s only so much the liberal arts college system can do, and sometimes we just have to look the average American graduate experience in the face and say, “Fuck it. I’m gonna do my best to grow.”
It’s tough juggling the intellectual, the mundane, the manual creation. What’s vital in the development of creative potential is knowing which of these is best suited to channel ideas. Or, as it was with my past week of post-apocalyptic conversations, wait for the right opportunity to share your knowledge and passion. (Even if it takes a few years or longer, you’ll be able to step back and learn more about how to fit work or a concept into a fresh framework.)
Personalized horoscope from me to you: ball’s in your court.
Written by Grace Littlefield, WBR Executive Director & Co-Editor-in-Chief
Ed Fuentes of KCET recently did an excellent piece previewing the art aspect of the new train stations in Los Angeles, which have had their fair share of controversy in the arts already, with their purple line looking to tear through a couple galleries across the street from LACMA. Metro worked out a whole half of a percent of the transportation renovations’ budget to create a small amount of art for the stations.
It’s not budget cuts as much as limited room. “”It’s about limited real estate,” said Yamamoto. “There isn’t space for large scale works at most of the Expo Line stations.”
They won’t quite stack up to the Red and Purple line stations, but when the proposals are finalized, LA locals will still have a bunch of new work to enjoy throughout the city.
I recently had the chance to interview artist Gregory Euclide, whose works often blur the line between painting and sculpture, installation and relief, representational and ethereal. Much differently than other artists to whom we have spoken, some amount of Euclide’s work is lost when viewed from a computer monitor or on one of the pages of the major magazines that have printed his art. This transition from impact to accessibility is one that he has given much thought, and his overwhelmingly interesting process has been affected by it. Euclide comments on this and more in Part I of our interview here, and the rest below.
When you come up with an idea, does it occur in two or three dimensions? Some of your work is beautiful in 2D but even more impacting once it tips the edge to 3D.
To be honest everything in my mind is 3d, it is just a matter of how much. I am either pushing it in to the surface of the work with illusions or I am bringing it out of the surface with objects. But in my mind it is always 3d even when it is flat. I like to bring the relief into the works as a way to contradict the flat representations. What happens to the depictions of space when you put them beside actual spaces?
Is there anything you’d like to get to? Any large-scale installation work you’d like to try maybe?
I have done a couple large works in the past several years. I get it. They are big. People like big. People like the grand gesture, but I actually am starting to prefer the more personable works. The works where the scale is more intimate. The works where the viewer feels enlarged and the work seems understandable from a distance.
What is your favorite part of your varied process, or what are some of the pieces you’ve done that have taught you the most?
The thing I like the most is that I can do whatever I need to. I like the change. If I need to make a series of flat sumi drawings to flesh out an idea…. I can. If I need to make a series of diorama’s built inside shipping crates… I can. I like that is it varied. I need it to be. I have no desire to paint the same thing over and over again for year after year. Many of my images look the same because they are coming from a generalized memory of what “nature” is. So that part of the imagery often stays the same, because it is supposed to be a cliché. It is the Jeep advertisement, it is the postcard, it is the chamber of commerce website. Nature as means of selling a lifestyle.
Thank you again, Gregory. What’s next on the plate for you, and where can folks find you?
I have a solo show at Martha Otero Gallery in LA in April. Over 10 new works. After that I have a European tour where I am going to be collaborating with Lubomyr Melnyk on the stages of London, Belgium, and Berlin. In November I have a solo show at Stolenspace Gallery in London. Other than that, I have a couple group shows I will be in at galleries in SF and Portland. I’m keeping busy. :)
Interview by Jacob Patterson for Think Tank Gallery.
I recently had the chance to interview artist Gregory Euclide, whose works often blur the line between painting and sculpture, installation and relief, representational and ethereal. Much differently than other artists with whom we have spoken, some amount of Euclide’s work is lost when viewed from a computer monitor or on one of the pages of the major magazines that have printed his art. This transition from impact to accessibility is one that he has given much thought, and his overwhelmingly interesting process has been affected by it. Euclide comments on this and more in Part I of our interview, below.
Does the modern method of online consumption ever affect your method or do you just deal with the inevitable consequence that comes with the perks of massive sharing through the internet?
I have been taking more process shots and movies to give an indication of how the objects are made. I think that quite a bit is missed when you look at my work in a flat image, But for me that is kind of the point – that is why I started making relief work. I was aware of what the internet afforded the viewer… the ability to see the world from a central location. The problem is that we make sacrifices for convenience. We did the same thing with music, we accepted the inferior mp3 format because it allowed us to take it with us, to store more, to download easier.
Speaking of method, how do you start one of your relief-type works? Is it responsive to materials you collect or do your wide, tonal slashes ever dictate direction?
I often start a work with an abstract gesture… something more like dance or something that mimics the movements of the natural world I am dealing with. I have drawers and drawers full of organic materials and inorganic materials. After I start making some imagery I determine what materials are going to go with what I have developed. It’s a collaging of materials and color, texture, history and meaning all come into play at that point.
But you seem to accomplish just as much with just one large surface in monochrome, which is more challenging?
As you might guess, they are just different. The relief works are labor intensive and I need to make sure everything is built correctly. The sumi ink works are much more direct. I am simply painting. I don’t need to stop for three days to build a bridge or cut out shapes in paper. Although recently the sumi works are looking more and more like the relief works… and I suppose they will continue to do so until they are full on reliefs.
This here is one great way to start your hump day. A little under three minutes of hilarity, this critique of the artist known as “Will” does a great job of explaining just how much art criticism matches the art itself in imagination at times. “Monkey Farter” is much deeper than it’s trying to be, or is it?
“It is as if de Kooning erased his own drawing. There is no ‘it’; there is no monkey; there is no farter; it is just I. The monkey farter is me!”
ONE OF THE COOLEST AND MOST POSITIVE UNDERGROUND COMMUNITIES IN LA - THE LOVE MOB
Think Tank Gallery hosted its first Love Mob last month, and while our artist Paul Santoleri was attempting to paint his massive installation in the main gallery of our space, the project room was bursting at the seams with positive energy as the crowd belted out heartfelt songs and played instruments of all kinds together. Paul ended up hanging out with the group for the night, as did the rest of the Think Tank, and I got the chance to get in line to interview the three who started one of the area’s most positive emerging events. Check out that interview below.
What is the Love Mob and who started it?
The Love Mob is a community… a giant group that was started by the 3 of us - Mustafa Shakir, Preston Smiles & Allison Kunath. We are a global campaign igniting a multi-generational movement that promotes love as a lifestyle.
How did you start it?
It started with a quote “LOVE WILL FIND A WAY, everything else will find an excuse,” and We decided to be a ‘way’… One mind, one heart, one love, one MOB.
Each of you is an artist in one way or another, do you see this as an extension of your individual careers in art, or a way to escape from the tension that a career in art can bring up between artist and work?
Definitely an extension. We each bring something unique to the table… our own expertise. It’s pretty beautiful how we all compliment each other, and how we’re all able to infuse our art into this project. I think that’s what a lot of Love Mobbers love too… we’re all about creating chances for people to share their passion with the collective.
Who comes to these things? Have you noticed a typical type of patron that usually shows up?
Nah… not really! Most people that show up are open, socially conscious, and just generally kind, amazing humans - but we really the full spectrum. Babies to seniors, business men to master reiki healers.
What is the most amazing thing that has come up from running the Love Mob that you never would have predicted?
We got surprised this week when an MMA fighter approached us, asking if he could bring our message to the ring. Pretty cool… we love hearing about all the little corners of the world that the Mob is already reaching… gotta love Facebook.
Where do you see this in a year? In five? It seems it is getting pretty big, do you have plans to blow it out into a larger thing to share with larger audiences?
There are already Mob’s popping up in cities all over the US, following our lead. We’re definitely excited to continue to expand and empower groups all over the place. We also see ourselves as an umbrella type of organization - so in the next year, expect to see some magic from us as we unite with other groups for even larger impact. And in 5 years, we really hope to be a hub for connecting people globally. We believe that one of the biggest sources for conflict is this false belief in separation. And one of the greatest ways to break down those beliefs is to create ways for people to feel connected in ways that they didn’t before.
How has your underground community found you, and how have you spread so quickly to find new faces since your inception at the end of last year?
Facebook! Our digital community is awesome, and growing pretty quickly. It’s been amazing to watch it explode from our friends, to friends of friends, to complete strangers who just happen to stumble upon one of our videos, and decide to come check out an event.
Any cool stories to share about the Love Mob or its patrons?
We’re working on a documentary project called ‘The Making of a Mob’. We figure if we want more groups like us to pop up globally, we might as well track our journey so folks can learn from our mistakes, and our success. The amazing thing is that so far, all our photo and video work has been donated by some pretty amazing creatives who are just down for the cause. (Thanks guys!)
How can we find your newest adventures?
The best way to stay up to speed with our moves is to ‘Like’ us on Facebook.
Interview by Jacob Patterson for Think Tank Gallery.
Whole Beast Rag, whose two founders are resident artists at the Think Tank, host Mondays on the Think Tank blog. Their audience flirts with fringe, and you can find a link to their editorial at the bottom.
When you’re an artist, the question “…but what do you do?” certainly offers one an interesting chance to reflect. I still question the term “artist” and deploy it only after careful consideration, especially if I’m talking to someone new. Not to be precious, but it’s not a term to use loosely although it gets tossed around. Living in Los Angeles, I find the general assumption to be: who isn’t? So we must go from there.
Let me step back for a second and tell you a story: I was at a dinner party last night. I was looking forward to the event but found myself struggling to surface from all the work clouding my head. I called my date and said it was too cold to swim and that I had a project due. Both of these things were true, but that’s not the point. He laughed and convinced me to attend in spite of myself. “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll go shave my other leg.” (The hot water had ran out in the shower the day before.) Lo and behold: I had fun.
Like a nice boy he had me home well before my bedtime so I could get my project done. Instead I ran into roommates and ended up on a rug in the main gallery, watching oil projections play over the painted walls. It came up: that question. A memory surfaced.
I took a trip this summer: driving from Minneapolis to Port Townsend and then down the west coast until I reached Los Angeles. I’ve written about this experience many times, but this particular story deserves examining in light of yesterday’s events. I was alone for most of the journey: imagine hours of being inside yourself with little outlet for processing. I’m sure any artist can understand. But at times the need would arise: an urge to connect with an actual person. When you’re inside for too long, reality can distort. Disengaging is hard but essential, and having another person helps keep things in check.
When I acknowledged this desire a funny thing happened: usually a total stranger would find me and we’d have some necessary interaction. It was never sexual, as people might imagine, although I understand the assumption. But this was a different intimacy; a strange grounding. It served to re-establish my connection to the world around me.
Last night we were talking about this distance that arises. The dinner was a good reminder for me. I had spent the past two weeks deep inside my little hole (or “creative practice”), only interested in the process of producing. We all are guilty of this, I think. The internet encourages consumption but this is a different thing than connection; although by proxy they sometimes overlap.
The irony is not lost on me. We were sitting in a saltwater hot tub on the top of a green hill somewhere, stuffed with food, when I said something true: having left on this trip and survived, I still wonder if I could do it again. Fear is not lost on me either, but at this point it’s no longer an option. Perhaps you have a different definition, but I think the artist’s job is to create openings for evolution and understanding that serve to connect—rather than sever—ourselves to the world at large. “Art” happens outside the mind—do not forget this like I did.
Back at home after dinner, I was given a nice (i.e. much needed) reminder. A friend pointed out how important authentic connection is, given a world where reality is only how you define it. In the end the lesson is this: art is just another perspective. As I wrote another friend recently: you must be in the world in order for it to be in you.
Artist Gwenn Seemel from Portland has spent time drawing animals from all walks of life in the animal kingdom, and after being diagnosed with endometriosis, her impending potential infertility drove her to explore these variations to dispel her lifelong lesson in traditional marriage mores, which she calls “baby-making assumptions.” Insodoing, she ended up with an entire children’s book on her hands, one that looks past the “nursery rhyme” some scientists get stuck inside of.
Called Crime Against Nature, the series has been compiled into a children’s book published in conjunction with a November/December 2012 exhibition at Place in Portland. The book is available in physical form or for free online. (You can also flip through the whole thing on her Facebook page.)
It’s an interesting way to share a message with our youth.