Tag Archive - Landscape

A Line Made By Flooding – Artist Eve Mosher: “I Never Wanted to Be Right”

 

In 2007 artist Eve S. Mosher used beacons and chalk to mark the projected high water line in Brooklyn and Manhattan. (Battery Park photo by Hose Cedeno courtesy highwaterline.org)

 

 

Artist Eve Mosher in 2007 (Photo courtesy highwaterline.org)

 

“I never wanted this to be a reality,” artist Eve Mosher wrote on her website the week Hurricane Sandy devastated parts of New York and New Jersey. ”Five years ago I couldn’t have even imagined it.”

In 2007 Mosher created High Water Line, a public art project in Manhattan and Brooklyn that brought the topic of climate change directly to the city’s residents. Using topographic maps, satellite images, research from NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies at Columbia University, and a Heavy Hitter (a machine typically used to draw chalk lines on ball fields), Moser walked 70 miles of New York coastline, drawing a blue chalk line on the ground ten feet above sea level—the anticipated high water line due to climate change. In other areas, where she was unable to draw a line, she marked the high water boundary with illuminated beacons.

 

“High Water Line” in the West Village as Eve Mosher drew it in 2007 (Photo courtesy evemosher.com)

 

 

(Photo by Curtis Hamilton for The Canary Project courtesy highwaterline.org)

 

 

Installing beacons beside the Brooklyn Bridge (Photo courtesy highwaterline.org)

 

 

Sea life inside one of the beacons that Eve Mosher installed in New York (Photo courtesy highwaterline.org)

 

Elizabeth Kolbert describes Eve’s project in a recent issue of The New Yorker :

Ten feet above sea level was the height that waters were expected to reach in New York during a hundred-year flood. Owing to climate change, though, the whole concept of a hundred-year flood was becoming obsolete. By the twenty-twenties, according to a report that Mosher read by a scientist at Columbia University, what used to be a hundred-year flood could be happening once every forty years. By the twenty-fifties, as sea levels continued to rise, it would become a twenty-year event. And by the twenty-eighties it could be occurring as often as once every four years. Mosher couldn’t understand why a projection like this wasn’t a major topic of discussion in Washington. In fact, it wasn’t being discussed at all.

As Mosher made her way around Brooklyn and, later, Manhattan, she hoped that the High Water Line, as she called her project, would prompt people to ask her what she was doing. “I wanted to leave this visually interesting mark, to open up a space for conversation,” she said last week

The audaciousness of Mosher’s project allowed her to engage with an economically and racially diverse group of residents. As she walked through neighborhoods, she talked to people, handed out flyers, and explained her motivations for drawing a 70-mile line through their communities. Workshops, education booklets, and a website were also an integral part of the project.

 

Eve Mosher talking with residents during her High Water Line project (Photo courtesy evemosher.com)

 

 

Tracing the “High Water Line” along the battery (Photo by Hose Cedeno courtesy highwaterline.org)

 

 

Beacons marking the high water line in Battery Park (Photo by Hose Cedeno courtesy highwaterline.org)

 
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Artists Transform New York City’s Water Towers into Works of Art

 

"Watertower" by Tom Fruin is now on view in DUMBO (Photo by Robert Banat courtesy Tom Fruin)


 
When you turn on the tap in your kitchen, do you ever think about where the water pouring out of your faucet comes from? Do you ever consider the fact that a simple thing like clean drinking water requires an elaborate system of pipes, reservoirs, water tanks, wells, and treatment plants? Probably not.

We take the infrastructure of modern life for granted. Only when we experience a natural disaster like a massive ice storm or hurricane do we realize how reliant we are on highways, trains, power grids, subways, and public water works for modern-day conveniences.

New York City is a playground for infrastructure lovers like myself. The Japanese may have their remarkable manhole covers, but New Yorkers have those ever-present water towers perched on tops of buildings throughout the city.

 

A sunset view of New York City water towers from the top of a building at Broadway and Astor Place (Photo by Michelle Aldredge. Click to Enlarge)

 

The best artists have the ability to make the invisible visible. Last week, a colorful new water tower perched on the top of a roof in DUMBO caught my attention. “Watertower” is the creation of artist Tom Fruin. As Hyperallergic reports, the sculpture is constructed entirely from salvaged and recycled Plexiglas and steel:

Fruin gathered the 1,000 pieces of plexiglas from businesses and buildings all over New York City and the steel from Pennsylvania. This is the fourth work in a global series of sculptures by the artist, all of which pay tribute to architectural icons in their respective locations (an obelisk in Buenos Aires, for example) using the same materials combined to form a gridded, patchwork and playful aesthetic.”

“Watertower” is illuminated by the sun during the day and light sequences by projection designer Jeff Sugg at night, bringing to mind a kind of glowing, sculptural, scrap-art version of another famous tribute to New York — Mondrian’s “Broadway Boogie Woogie.”

 

Fruin's “Watertower” is illuminated by the sun during the day and light sequences by projection designer Jeff Sugg at night, bringing to mind a kind of glowing, sculptural, scrap-art version of another famous tribute to New York — Mondrian’s “Broadway Boogie Woogie.” (Photo by Robert Banat courtesy Tom Fruin Studio)

 

 

Fruin's "Watertower" is the fourth work in a series of sculptures that pay tribute to architectural icons in their respective locations. "Kolonihavehus" in the plaza of the Royal Danish Library in Copenhagen has the appearance of a friendly and colorful stained-glass house, yet it also evokes thoughts of churches and Charles Rennie Macintosh. (Photo courtesy coolhunter.net)

 

 

Kolonihavehuses were originally small garden sheds that were designed to give cramped and often impoverished city-dwellers a small plot and a refuge from city life. (Photo and caption courtesy coolhunter.net)

 

In 1998 the British artist Rachel Whiteread installed Water Tower on a roof in the Soho neighborhood of New York City. The piece was commissioned by the Public Art Fund and was the artist’s first public sculpture to be conceived and displayed in the United States.

Water Tower is now installed on the rooftop above the Museum of Modern Art’s sculpture garden. The sculpture is a resin cast of the interior of a once-functioning cedar water tower, chosen specifically for the texture this type of wood would impart to the surface.

The translucent resin captures the qualities of the surrounding sky. On a blue day the tower appears blue, but on an overcast day, like the day I visited the museum, the tower is whispery white. On a moonless night it will disappear, but if you catch the water tower on a night when the moon is full, Whiteread’s piece has a luminescent, pearly sheen. At times, the tower seems to be composed entirely of water, as in these images…

 

Rachel Whiteread's "Water Tower" is now installed on the rooftop above the Museum of Modern Art's sculpture garden. The sculpture is a resin cast of the interior of a once-functioning cedar water tower, chosen specifically for the texture this type of wood would impart to the surface. (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

 

The translucent resin captures the qualities of the surrounding sky. On a blue day the tower appears blue, but on an overcast day, like the day I visited the museum, the tower is whispery white. On a moonless night it will disappear, but if you catch the water tower on a night when the moon is full, Whiteread's piece has a luminescent, pearly sheen. (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

This week I received news of another new public art project involving New York’s pervasive water tanks. Word Above the Street has just announced The Water Tank Project, a landmark public art initiative focused on raising attention of water as a precious resource.

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Pick of the Week: Matthew Northridge’s Pictures by Wire and Wireless

 

Matthew Northridge, "Welcome Back to the Nuclear Age," 2011. Collage on paper. 23" x 27 1/2". Black lines culled from books and pieced together into a continuous tangled loop. (On View at KANSAS through 1.7.12)

 

If you haven’t seen Matthew Northridge’s solo show Pictures by Wire and Wireless at KANSAS, the newest gallery on Tribeca’s up-and-coming gallery row, you’re in luck. The show has just been extended until Saturday, January 7th. Art Forum magazine has placed Pictures by Wire and Wireless on their “Critic’s Pick” list. I had the pleasure of seeing the show in New York this November and can assure you that the distinction is well deserved.

Northridge is one of the few contemporary artists I can think of pushing the boundaries of collage as an art form. Equally playful and orderly, his obsessive, detailed work, composed of cultural ephemera, is never marred by irksome cleverness or a hollow cataloging impulse. This is art that improves upon closer examination–art that reveals itself slowly without ever relinquishing all of its mysteries.

“Welcome Back to the Nuclear Age” is a good case in point. This colorful, tangled loop immediately grabbed my attention when I saw it in the gallery. But only when I approached the piece did I realize that it was a collage composed of hundreds of carefully arranged black lines from various found magazines, ads, books, and maps. (You can click on the “detail” image below to get a closer look).

 

Matthew Northridge, "Welcome Back to the Nuclear Age," Detail, 2011. Collage on paper. 23" x 27 1/2". Black lines culled from books and pieced together into a continuous tangled loop.

 

Northridge’s art work sings in KANSAS’s spacious galleries. While it’s easy to become overly focused on the intricate construction of these pieces, landscape is really the central theme that ties all of the work in Pictures by Wire and Wireless together. Viewing the show as a whole allowed me to better appreciate the artist’s talent for creating highly original, imaginary scenes.

Whether looking at a rolled map of Washington D.C. encased in steel bars, the haunting skies on raffle tickets in “How to Know (and Predict) the Weather,” the layered collages of found nature images, or the miniature structures in “Barns and Other Outbuildings,” Northridge’s invented landscapes always have a humorous, otherworldly quality. His marvelous piece, Northeast, reminds me simultaneously of an aerial view of a city, children’s blocks, windows in a skyscraper, and colorful beds from a dollhouse.

 

Matthew Northridge, "The Northeast," 2011. Wood, paper, and printed material, 12" x 12" x 4". (On View at KANSAS through 1.7.12)

 

 

Matthew Northridge, "The Northeast," Detail, 2011. Wood, paper, and printed material, 12" x 12" x 4". (On View at KANSAS through 1.7.12)

 

 

Matthew Northridge, "Map of Washington D.C.", Detail, 2010. Wood, steel rods, & map, 37" x 2 1/2" diameter. Suspended from ceiling. (On view at KANSAS through 1.7.12)

 

 

Artist Matthew Northridge and his piece "Barns and Other Outbuildings" on view at KANSAS Gallery in Tribeca through 1.7.11 (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

 

Detail view of Matthew Northridge's "Barns and Other Outbuildings," 2009. Wood & chipboard. 15" diameter. Projecting from wall (On view at KANSAS through 1.7.12))

 

 

An installation view of Matthew Northridge's "Barns and Other Outbuildings," 2009. Wood & chipboard. 15" diameter. Projecting from wall (Photo by Michelle Aldredge)

 

 

Matthew Northridge. "How to Know (and Predict) the Weather," 2006. Found printed material & raffle tickets. 26" high x 47" wide (On View at KANSAS through 1.7.12)

 

 

Matthew Northridge. "How to Know (and Predict) the Weather," Detail, 2006. Found printed material & raffle tickets. 26" high x 47" wide (On View at KANSAS through 1.7.12)

 

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Barry Underwood: Transforming the Familiar into the Extraordinary

Photography

"Blue Trees" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

Imagine for a moment an Ansel Adams photograph. Any Adams’ image will do.

What does it look like? Do you see a landscape in black and white? Is it in a frame? Is it small? Large? Is the image on a poster pinned to a wall or displayed above a calendar page? Or do you see the landscape itself, as though it’s a real place?

It is hard to imagine what Adams’ colleagues and friends thought when they saw his photographs of Yosemite Valley, the Sierra, and other landscapes in the American West for the first time. Today, Adams’ photographs have become so commonplace, so clichéd, that it’s impossible for us to view these images with fresh eyes.

But when Adams’ images were first printed, they were novel and influential. It was his book Sierra Nevada: The John Muir Trail, and Adams’ testimony before Congress that played a vital role in designating Sequoia and Kings Canyon as national parks in 1940.

"Autumn Moon" by Ansel Adams

 

"Orange" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

 

"McLean, Virginia" (Photo © Joel Sternfeld)

One challenge all artists face is how to create original, compelling work that is in dialogue with a medium’s history without being overly derivative. Artists are in constant battle with the tyranny of the familiar. How can a photographer working today inspire a viewer to see a landscape with new eyes when so many photographs have been made before, when our cultural memories are infused with so many popular images?

When I first saw Barry Underwood’s photographs, I was struck not only by how strange and surreal they were, but also by how familiar–familiar in the sense that they called to mind not only the landscapes of Ansel Adams, but also The Lightning Field of Walter De Maria, the sublime panoramas of the Hudson River School painters, the black and white images of Japanese photographer Tokihiro Satō, the orange pumpkins of Joel Sternfeld, and the eerie cinematic scenes in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Whatever Underwood’s influences, he has been shaped by them without being consumed by them. While he may reference the work of other photographers, he has invented a visual language that is entirely his own. When I look at his remarkable photographs, I sense that I am seeing these places for the first time, and I’m intrigued, but also unnerved. It’s easy to forget how difficult an artistic accomplishment this is to achieve.

The brilliance of Underwood’s work is that it suggests a larger narrative, and yet that narrative always remains elusive and mysterious. It is this tension between the familiar and the surreal that gives his photographs their power. Underwood shows us the potential of the ordinary, in the same way a brilliant cinematographer or set designer can turn an everyday moment into a memorable, visual experience.

Photograph

"Blue Lines" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

 

"Aurora (Green)" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

 

"Outcrop" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

Underwood’s talent for creating theatrical vistas can be traced back to his undergraduate days at Indiana University Northwest, where he majored in theater and served as tech director for a year. In the end he turned down a full-time theater position, choosing to study photography at the Cranbrook Academy of Art in Michigan instead. While working at the Interlochen Arts Academy, Underwood began melding his theater experience with still images by utilizing lighting and other artistic effects in his landscape photographs.

When I spoke to Underwood about his process, he explained that all of his photographs are shot with color negative film. All of the images he made before 2007 (like “Lightning Bugs” and “Blue Trees”) were printed entirely in the darkroom with no digital processing. More recently, he has begun scanning his film negatives and making small adjustments digitally. But it is important to note that the lighting effects you see in Underwood’s images are not created in Photoshop. Underwood fashions these scenes by intuitively reading the landscape and altering the vista through lights and photographic effects. Each photograph is a sort of dialogue–the result of Underwood’s direct encounter with nature.

"Trace (Yellow)" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

 

"Line" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

 

"Lightning Bugs" (Photo © Barry Underwood)

In an interview with Donald Rosenberg, the photographer describes his process in more detail:

 

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Creative Spaces: Angela Cappetta’s Love Letter to Medusa

A photograph in the "Medusa" series (Photo by Angela Cappetta)

Photographer Angela Cappetta has a new show opening this weekend at the Medusa General Store as part of their MGS Projects series. “Medusa: A Love Letter to the Mountains” reflects on the working farm community of Medusa in Upstate New York. The hamlet is tiny–it had a population of only 376 people during the 2000 census–but this did not stop Cappetta from setting up a home and darkroom in the rural community. Cappetta’s photographs of Medusa were handprinted in her own basement darkroom, which is pictured below.

Negatives drying in Angela Cappetta's darkroom (Photo by Angela Cappetta)

 

Cappetta's basement darkroom. A Lee Friedlander poster hangs above the sink. (Photo by Angela Cappetta)

 

Legend has it that Cappetta's print flattener once belonged to Gary Winogrand (Photo by Angela Cappetta)

Cappetta’s photography has been collected by institutions like the Corcoran Museum of Art and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, and by private collectors like Agnes Gund. Some of you may be familiar with Cappetta’s documentary and commercial work, which has been featured in Vogue, Harper’s Bazar, and The New Yorker, but this new show is an opportunity to see another side of this versatile photographer. These contemplative images of Medusa have a real sense of place and are quite intimate for a series comprised largely of landscapes. Each photograph is a like a visual poem, capturing some small, quiet moment in the rural Upstate hamlet Cappetta calls home.

Legless deer in Medusa, NY

A Photograph from the "Medusa" series (Photo by Angela Cappetta)

The opening reception for “Medusa” takes place from 6:00-8:00 p.m. on Saturday, July 2nd at the Medusa General Store located at 6 Red Barn Lane. For more information, please contact April Roggio at aroggio (at) nycap.rr (dot) com.

And if you can’t make it, don’t worry. You can peruse Cappetta’s photo series from the comfort of your own living room. To see more of Cappetta’s work, please visit her website.

A photograph from the "Medusa" series (Photo by Angela Cappetta)

This is the second installment in Gwarlingo’s “Creative Spaces” series. To see the first feature on MacArthur fellow Anna Schuleit, click here.

If you’re a writer, visual artist, composer, filmmaker, architect, etc. who would like to have your own desk, studio, or work area considered for “Creative Spaces,” please email quality photographs to michelle (at) gwarlingo (dot) com. Your space doesn’t have to be large, fancy, or organized. (Readers enjoy seeing all types of work spaces in varying states of disarray!) Submissions should include a bio and a link to your website. We regret that we’re unable to publish all of the submissions we receive.

While you’re here, don’t forget to check out the Gwarlingo home page, which is updated regularly. Right now, you can preview new music by Gillian Welch and PJ Harvey, see the latest Gwarlingo recommendations and reader comments, plus view Gwarlingo’s Photo of the Week.

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To leave a comment about Angela Cappetta’s work or the “Creative Spaces” series, click here and scroll to the “Comments” section at the bottom of the page.