“Play and Spark” of Modern Painting

“Even before lifting a brush the shape of this canvas excited me emotionally.”

"Untitled"  12"x36" Acrylic on Canvas
“Untitled” 12″x36″ Acrylic on Canvas

V. Vollrath  “Beautiful – like a vortex the eye is pulled into the black almost at the centre.”  

Critique Written by:  P.N.Waters

“It really is very fine… composition (reminiscent of early Mondrian) — of course. Besides that is the really great and I would say INTUITIVE use of color. The play and spark that is so often (almost always) missing from acrylic is here.

I use the word “intuitive” with care. So much painting these days is just PRETENDING to be “deconstructed” or even “abstract”. Most often it is hieroglyphic — symbols that are recognizable to a particular cogniscienti. In fact, that is the antithesis of “Abstraction”, and to be frank it is no more artistic than, say, printing currency.

THAT is why the signature is the most important aspect of most modern painting these days.

Whether it’s Jeff Koons balloon dogs, William Wegman’s real dogs, Damien Hirst’s multicolored spots, Jim Dine’s multicolored hearts, or Robert Motherwell monochromatic splotches — what we are really looking at is different varieties of money.

Your painting, whether a given person “likes” it or not has character and heart; things that only living things have. In fact, I would go so far to say that almost anyone would say they like this — same way they would “like”, say, Beethoven’s Ninth. Inspiring. No special knowledge or initiation required!

That means it’s Art, with a capital “A”. Money can never claim that, whatever the denomination. No matter what the signature on it that makes it a valuable commodity. A skull by Damien Hirst is just as cold and dead as can be, even if it is made out of diamonds.”

©2015 Nicole Rigets

Pass Me a *Pipe

Mens-Navy-Blue-Double-Breasted-BlazerA man’s blazer is a mark of the ‘establishment’ and differs from a sports jacket chiefly in the material. A blazer is made of a solid dark color, usually navy, sometimes black, and on occasion bottle green, or red.

Sports jackets have plastic or leather buttons whereas blazers are usually embellished with nautical-style brass or gold-tone buttons. The buttons should not be shiny or garish. If they are, detach them, and look into having them dipped in bleach to remove the lacquer finish and speed up tarnishing. A navy or black soft wool and cashmere blazer can be modernized by replacing the brass buttons with black horn.

Blazer Do’s96bfbb8573b35d11d46a116849f46c5e

Weddings

Dinner Dates

Films

Graduations

Brunches

Blazer Don’ts

Funerals

Job Interviews

Evenings at the Opera

IPOs http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Initial_public_offering

Brisses http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/brisses

MenInNavy6

Five Ways to Wear a Blazer

  • Relaxed, with an ivory white turtleneck sweater and jeans.
  • Classic, with mid-tone grey flannels, white dress shirt, and solid blue-red silk tie.
  • Funky, with a white vintage T-shirt, tooled leather belt, and jeans.
  • Collegiate, with a grey cashmere hoodie http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoodie, woven belt, and putty colored casual cotton pants.
  • Celebrity Style, with layers of denim; beginning with a bleached denim ‘cowboy’ shirt and a Levi’s medium blue denim jacket, studded leather belt, and off-white jeans.

*Pipe:  Optional

©2015 Nicole Rigets

Space of Settlement

I paint directly onto the canvas:  I don’t sketch first. I like to build structure with color.

"Untitled"
“Untitled”  Acrylic on Canvas  22″x28″

I relinquish notions of absolute truth while intentionally working to disrupt the established.  It is through this process, that an adjustment takes place, culminating in an agreement composing differences.

My painting then becomes the act, or process, of settling an inner argument, or disagreement, with my notion of reality as it has been routinely accepted by me. A flux occurs, creating a progressive version of ‘reality’, and a region is newly settled within the confines of the canvas.

A new form of communication and environment crystallizes within an original form of perception and pleasure.

©2015 Nicole Rigets

 

 

Swallow Up & Over Show

Doors inside out.  The occupants never thought of them; instead they thought of boxes.  The ones piled up too high behind the locker door made of corrugated metal, and heavy, and blue grey, with a cold past squeezing out from around it. This was really a solid gate, not a door.

Real doors were warm and wooden and painted red like the ones on the front of heritage homes.  That’s the best color for a door because it shows off a Christmas wreath just right.  It draws attention to its structure and co-ordinates well with a black wrought iron mailbox.  The lawn is happy with a complimentary splash of color.

False Front
False Front

Birds find it cheerful, and the loud rumblings heard coming from behind it; the angry voices, the shouting seem even more violent when passing through the scarlet wound of the house.  If the door were made of glass, one wonders if the occupants would be quieter and reflective.  Who made a decision to inflame the door; and when was it so.

©2015 Nicole Rigets

The Short Life of the Eternal

FullSizeRender-1

I am in a relationship with PAINT… and how it makes me feel!  I’m very sensitive to color and emotionally driven to my choices.

This painting is 24″x36″, “Untitled”, Acrylic on canvas.  I think of it as, a classical floral arrangement, in a de-constucted modernist pose.  I build structure by inventing and originating forms as containers for color.

I love suggestion and unmeasured standards, as opposed to precision, in harnessing gravity and significance to the act of painting.  I choose to disrupt the established and bring imperfect beauty to the essence of the unseen.

To challenge the flat-line of monotony, and the blank stare of the ordinary, means being open to, and willing to, paint over areas I am convinced look ‘right’.  I must relinquish the ownership of my actions to make way for new strokes that change the painting from one aspect to another, and another… this ongoing internal dialogue keeps the changes flying until I reach a summit:  I’m looking for harmonious discord.

©2015 Nicole Rigets

ZenZing

Thanking my unconscious mind for these permissive ideas.

Eating lunch with a  friend at 3:30 p.m. in Capers Courtyard on Fourth Avenue yesterday. Two pigeons strutted around the table and between our feet.  I noticed they had black toenails at the end of their red toes and legs.  This is very dramatic and beautiful. I feel I need coral red fingernails with jet black tips:  very Zen!!  Now here I think the next Fashion Movement will be a ‘Zen’ look. I could do one:  Paper, water blue, soft jade green, moonlight, horizontal planes, 7″ x 7″ proportions, whispers.  Nothingness, lightness, being (3 stages of birth)… I like my new concept.

What else comes from my Zen?  Bowls, trees, discs, flow, chromium yellow and wine-stain red, high altitudes/attitudes, thinness, sticks, stones, smoothness, waving, layers, reduction, balance, harmony zones:  The Zen Zone; how would that look?  How would I combine the colors?

One stroke on a brass gong: a single strike against a brass gong!

Tastes like pepperment:  Peppermint Zen.

Smells like cinnamon-sea air.

Feels like mountain (Whistler) wind.

The energy of a horse’s mane in the air as it gallops, the flames of a fire (fire flame), a bird wing fanned out (against) or into the wind.

I like these images.

My “imagineered” design style is a place where Zen and Clutter Meet.

"Zen by Nature"

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

In with the Fruit Peels when I Die

We’re here and gone.  We’re in and out.

The swell of the waves makes my thighs quiver and my lower body feels sensations taking in the movement of the sea.  The Shangri-La thrusts above the headland.

A deep pink geranium sits pretty in the black cast iron urn near my feet silently dropping her petals as she too admires the whitecaps. A dainty sophisticate, the geranium has an oriental lily pad leaf anchoring an English flower and bud with small petals, fanning out a saturated hue against clouds swollen with shadows leaning along the sky in layers.

The icy wind is bending tree branches and whirring the stalks of shrubs into a frenzy. The Seawalkers keep their collars up and kleenex under their noses as they brace their steps for the next burst of cold air breaking over them.  Long scarves twirl and leap outward in a scatter-brained dance.

The train tracks creak, dogs yip and howl.

My feet are cold, as is my tea, and yet it is mesmerizing to sit in the midst of it all.  A lone gull is being blown blocks out of his way by the next forceful blow of the wind.  He’s drawn across roof and tree tops and sent soaring away from the water toward the hard blue mountains.

A steady grumble makes its way through the leaky windows and the canvas awnings flap furiously against the current.

Without warning leaves are blown inside out revealing their naked light side.  The logs sitting atop the giant granite boulders lining the walk thunk, thunk, in repetition.  All is divine as blue sky and tips of sunlight foreshadow a heavenly day.

Now the sun comes out to spoil me warming my bare feet resting on the tile floor.  The rays are blinding as they reflect off the water and the surface of the sea glitters in madcap fashion. Sunlight is pulled back and in ten breaths I see only a glare as the seagulls wail mournfully.  The sun is back, in the completion of a sentence, playing hide and seek with me.  I have to squint hard against it.

More people are out walking now.  The path becomes a medley of color:  mauve, red, blue, pink, white, gold, black, navy, tan:  the colors of our clothing, our cars, and our floral arrangements.

The walk has emptied, my tea is drained, I leave the solarium in peace having read a few more pages from Louise Erdrich’s book, “The Blue Jay’s Dance.”  A Birth Year.  Exquisite, lyrical prose by a Best-Selling Author, Mother, Observer of Nature and Poet.  These little vignettes are “unpredictable and unforgettable.”  The mundane of everyday life is rendered marvelous!

Once back in the kitchen I look out and see the arbutus tree waving wildly in the wind. My concern is for the crow who built her nest in a strong fork of one of the branches.  I can see vaguely through the blossoms that she’s home by a small glimpse of her shiny black feathers.  The tree  is caught up in a baby hurricane and I think of the bird mother having morning sickness in the dizzying gale. If the eggs aren’t scrambled by the time the wind ceases the birdlings will be born remembering this psychedelic drama in their incubation. All day I fret over whether the nest will weather the storm.

I had watched the nest being built and the crow had a mate helping to weave each thoughtfully chosen strand of material into a new home. Many trips were made carrying puffs of something white and fluffy. Normally the nest rests in utopia almost hidden by the thick and lavish white flowers and green leaves of the arbutus tree; a floral-lined loft.  By sunset the scene turned calm, the five-hour power outage was repaired, and I had the kettle back on. I was extremely grateful for electricity, a safe nest, and all the energetic forces of Mother Nature purifying the air we breathe.  The electric heat is back on, the fridge is cold again, and the food didn’t spoil.  So what if the computer wouldn’t work, I got this written anyway… by hand and heart.

Crow Nursery constructed in the boughs of the red-trunked Arbutus Tree

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

Rose Colored and White Insanity

In my second year at Grad School I was taking Media History.  We were watching films to learn about the conceptual and constructed components that go into the making of them.

Unlike many arts, films exude prophecy and memory.  I would sit in the dark theatre and write in my heavy black sketchbook with the refrigerator white pages laid open.  The pen scratched across the toothy paper but I could only hear the steadily increasing sine wave of piercing electronic sound; which accounts for the words below that are typed in capitals as I routinely thought of getting up to leave. The sound increased in pitch and volume slowly over a 45 minute period.  I wrote and fought myself.  Every few minutes someone left and I still don’t know how I sat through it.  The sound was marginally muffled by thoughts of my grade point average and whether Fiona, our teacher, would mark me absent if I left before it ended. I recently read the sine wave contributes largely to the uncanniness of the film.

Here’s what was written by feeling my way along on the pages of my book as I wanted to emit the same sound as the sine wave:

Viewing “Wavelength” by Michael Snow

Extraordinarily loud traffic

(noice) noise.

empty apartment with bookcase.

strawberry fields playing and

the room turned pale red… for

a few minutes or a minute.

Traffic noise begins but the

window has been shut by 2

women that came in before &

have now left. Yellow, red —

orange, yellow-green trucks

make a loud noise  s.

sunset in the window &

it comes into the room.

psychedelic colors paint

the interior white

light strikes the room.

Flash, lightening ? or

car lights shining in like

an angry dragon, no traffic

now and a foghorn playing

a long note & vibration —

color & vibration . white &

neutrals & negative exposure

pink cellophane windows

rose colored & white insanity

green gel interior . chalky

white dark with outdoors

showing through windows.

Daylight flashing & zoomed

in on room’s interior.

WHEN   WILL   THE   NOISE   STOP

The voice of the noise is

becoming hoarse . iciy blue

The noise will dye soon.

I meant die

The room is disappearing.

green shot popcorn. &

grainy film now perfectly

exposed with person on floor

What’s wrong with this picture?

klear whitewashed flashed

noise is annoying

a-noising  dark red like

a burst body vessel.  STOP IT

Tune out Tune off. TUNES

not much room left now.

a white blob passes.

and we just sit here &

take it!!

yellow chair yellow

light_ ‘ . _ Double ghost image

institution   .    office of

A d mission to a clinic for

nervous & mental breakdowns

In one ear & out the other .

Fading but not the sound.

A black phone appears &

I can call for help who’s

going to listen, who will

listen ??  LET ME OUT !?!

Clarity again in the image.

outdoor signs are visible

hardware store.  In the left

ear now.  nowpictures on

the wall. & woman dials phone.

she reports a dead person on

the floor in her room.  She

becomes ghostly.

MY SINUSES ARE ACHING FROM

THE SOUND.  White wall now.

pictures of 2 white forms of people

standing multiplied then became

only 2 again . now multiple &

floaty . Layers of the same

B & W picture (one over the other)

not quite aligned.  mis-matched

out of synch . spaces between

your ears . Down that tunnel

that people who have a near-

death experience go . WORSE THAN

A TOOTHACHE when will this

noise be pulled or filled??  Conden-

sation on the glass window pane

and there is a squiggle drawn

in it.  TURN UP THE PITCH BITCH

This sound is searing my

eyeballs & scraping my nerve

endings as fine lines

show up now vertically

on the screen (on the scream in my skull) . S/B 2

fine lines.  sirens now on

top of this  B & W photo of

water & rippley waves

becomes the picture & a

new noise is added like

a trolley bus starting away

from a curb . and a siren

at a distance ._ these two

combined  .  The texture of

the waves is full screen

but they do not move at all

SILENCE AT LAST.  They

diffuse into mist.  The END!

at last.  no maybe not.  Yes.

Some bold color blocks at

the fine.

Before watching a 10-minute version of “Wavelength” at the link below, scroll down on You Tube and get a load of the five or six comments.  I hope you will watch it and go on to read the following link for a worthy explanation of what Canadian Filmmaker Michael Snow’s award-winning film is about. The “Aha!” moment follows Wikipedia’s article and discussions.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzPwuP6AmCk

Wikipedia on “Wavelength”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wavelength_(1967_film)

Bio of Fiona Bowie, my Media History teacher at Emily Carr University on Granville Island, Vancouver, B.C.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiona_Bowie

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

“Box Camera”

"Untitled"
We all crave a little color in our lives whether it comes in the form of hues, encounters, explorations, or dreams.

From a previous dream:

…Now I took the man around the corner to point out the window with cobalt to ask him if he’d give me permission to photograph the stunning beauty of negative pattern to positive pieces captured in this window.

He gave me a box camera with a long strap with chain link clinking next to the body.  His brother didn’t agree with his generosity but he insisted I take it.

Picture your dreams.

Discarded dreams become poetry.

Night writing will lead you to the light in your soul.

Copyright © 2002 Nicole Rigets Journal