Channeling Dream Energy

As someone who is certifiably futuristic*, I love this time of year because it's full of dream energy. I am so into this idea of dream energy that it was the conceptual basis of a proposal to Beltline last year. I was rejected, but the beauty of being futuristic is you don’t care because there’s something else to look forward to, and even in a global pandemic, I still painted 11 murals last year, so I think it turned out alright.

Now, what do I mean by dream energy? It’s a place where you can imagine everything has gone right, that your wildest boldest ideas exceed and tap into the ecstasy of desire. I to underscore that part of dream energy is simply being open to not defining the future based on the past. They are connected in a timeline, yes, but since we live in a world where other people do and act independently of us, the future can be… wildly unpredictable.



How do we make this practical though? You let dreams inspire you in a few different ways:

  • Dream energy can get you energized to find ways to get started now with what you have available to you, if you are willing to let go of perfectionism.

  • Thinking this way leaves you open to the possibilities that may come you way, seeing them as a stairway to the bigger vision.

  • It also lets you see that something incredible could happen tomorrow, because tomorrow you could get that call from Oprah that would change what you have available to you.

Being able to imagine the future is what has propelled me in my career, and I think it's definitely my superpower, but I’ve had to learn how to set boundaries around this. On the flip side of dream energy is the stress fantasy, where you conjure up a stressful reality for yourself and imagine that it is an absolutely likely thing you need to deal with even though it hasn’t happened and doesn’t need to be dealt with.

Because when it comes to setting intentions, committing resolutions and exploring desire, I think you first have to be compassionate and honest with yourself. Self-criticism can get you far, but self-compassion will be a much better ride.

So I have some parting questions that you can use to explore dream energy.

    “How would you act if you believed it would all work out?”

    “What if you could make $10,000 tomorrow? What would you do if you believed that was available to you?”

    “What do you want to thank my future self for? What can you thank your past self for?”

* Futuristic is my top strengths according to my Gallop CliftonStrengths profile, a

The Bond Between Siblings

At the beginning of December, my friend, fellow GSU alum & high school classmate Brandon Ellis commissioned me to paint a watercolor painting for his sister for Christmas. Brandon is a musician and when I got married, I walked down the aisle to an arrangement by him, an string version of Cloudbusting by Kate Bush, as set up by my husband. You can check out his music here.

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Live the Legacy II at the National Center for Civil and Human Rights

Living Melody Collective

One of my favorite parts about being an artist is the flexibility to define my own work. I’m starting to think it’s a solid strategy to play and lean into the things that really get me excited.  Last year, I leaned into the joy of collaborating with other artists through my involvement with Living Melody Collective.

The  magic of surrounding yourself with other artists is that I know we can make anything out of nothing.
From Left to Right: Angela Bortone, Haylee Anne, Jessica Caldas, Angela Davis Johnson and Danielle Deadwyler. This picture is from an early mural work session in Jessica's TCP Goat Farm Studio.

From Left to Right: Angela Bortone, Haylee Anne, Jessica Caldas, Angela Davis Johnson and Danielle Deadwyler. This picture is from an early mural work session in Jessica's TCP Goat Farm Studio.

Living Melody Collective is comprised of female-identifying Atlanta based artists including Haylee Anne, Jessica Caldas, Angela Davis Johnson, Danielle Deadwyler and myself. This combines a variety of backgrounds in painting, printmaking, dance, performance, and photography. The group also brings together four artist-mothers and one cat-mom.  

The collective was born out of a shared history of collaborating that stretches back to 2015 with a project called #3everyday. Together we’ve created artistic interventions that focus on civic engagement, awareness, and community impact.  Our most recent endeavor is a 32’ x 8’ mural for the Center for Civil and Human Rights.

The Application Process

Honestly, when we applied for this project we didn’t have a name for the collective. It was just this feeling that I had that we were official collaborators. Jessica sent the link for this contest with a week to go in a email that read, “Hey y'all, I know we're tight on time for this but I wanted to see if you were all still maybe interested in coming up with a collaborative project to apply to this with?  Deadline is the 10th, we could have some meetings next week to try and put something together-also totally understand if not. Just wanted to circle back on it.”

Over skype and google doc, we put together an application that repurposed sculptural elements that Jessica created in the shape of Atlanta’s twelve voting districts. The sculptures were from a two person show & voting initiative that her and Haylee had recently put on at Eyedrum called Goldsmack. I think we were not expecting to with the contest, so when Haylee got the congratulatory you got it email she forwarded it to us with this note, “YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

Live the Legacy II Mural

This mural was commissioned by the Center for Civil and Human Rights to commemorate Dr. King’s work on civil and human rights  and fits into a larger series called Live the Legacy. This piece, the second in the series engages Dr. King’s legacy of targeting homelessness and exclusivity through the lens of current inequity and displacement crises in Atlanta.

It address our concern that Atlanta leads the nation in income inequality and ranks last in social mobility. It is an especially vital time to address the ugly shadow of gentrification and growing displacement in the City of Atlanta, given the onset of new leadership, and the multi-million dollar developments that stand to change the face of Downtown.

The finished mural, installed at the Center for Civll and Human Rights

The finished mural, installed at the Center for Civll and Human Rights

The piece consists of eight 4” x 8” panels, and we added sculptural elements in the form of Atlanta’s 12 Council Districts. On top of each district, we blew up and abstracted a neighborhood from each district using city maps that classify the structures from poor to good. Our next layer was to paste on pairs of photographs from each district, one representing the past and the other the current day.

Over all of this we painting housing and people. Dr. King’s portrait is one the largest element in the piece, rendered in black and white. We painted a variety of housing,  including shotgun house, a condominium, single family homes, slums and Peachtree Pines shelter, which was shut down last year. Figures stream around Peachtree Pines and the condo, starting in color but soon fading to white gestural marks on black paint. Lastly, we started and ended the mural with text from Dr. King’s last book, “Where do we go from here: Chaos or Community?”

The Beloved Community

The creation of this piece required of a collaborative effort much like what it will take to to build stronger and more equitable communities. We supported one another, and in turn, were at time supported. Much thanks to Krista Jones, who helped keep us company as well as provided some childcare, my husband who helped us papier mache. Thanks to Joe Moorman for the use of the Mosaic Art Supply warehouse, and the use of the woodworking tools, both assets which formed an invaluable resource.

Jessica Caldas watching over three of the collective's five children

Jessica Caldas watching over three of the collective's five children

The intersectional quality of Living Melody Collective is our greatest strength, true diversity. With the forces of our individual life experiences coming together, we hope to create a multifaceted, thoughtful, and engaging piece that will spark conversation to further benefit those who have been displaced, and to proceed with an ethical development of the city that we love.

What I found in this work and with the separate community centered art project that was the Drum Major Project,  is that Dr. King he had a plan. For Dr. King, The Beloved Community was not a utopian goal. Rather, The Beloved Community was for him a realistic, achievable goal that could be attained by a critical mass of people committed to and trained in the philosophy and methods of nonviolence.

A community conversation

On August 17th, 2018 at 6:30 pm - 8:30 pm, there will be a reception and panel for our mural. Join the Center for Civil and Human Rights as we host a community conversation on the power of art in catalyzing conversations around civil and human rights.

From left to right: Haylee Anne, Angela Bortone, Danielle Deadwyler, Angela Davis Johnson and Jessica Caldas pose in front of their mural called Live the Legacy II

Mirror

I have this quote, pinned to top of my twitter feed and I come back to it often because it concisely explains what I hope to achieve with my art. It's my mission statement, in a way. It's by the author Junot Diaz, and it goes, "And part of what inspired me, was this deep desire that before I died, I would make a couple of mirrors." What I love about this quote is that it so brilliantly explains why I have been so electrified by his work, because a part of it reflects something deeply true and specific of my experience being half-Dominican, an immigrant and yet assimilated into modern American culture.

Review: Day & Night’s “Fantasy” shows multiple worlds mingling

Originally published on ArtsATL.com

Fantasy is the exercise of imagination, to make visible a vision separate from reality and free from limitation. These fanciful mental images entertain children and adults alike with magical thinking. Secret personal dreams is a place where sovereign control can create fulfillment of needs and wishes. They can also manifest as a stress-induced retreat from reality, divorced from the standing realities of the world that results in never truly living in the moment. From innocent make-believe to morbid desires, fantasy encompasses it all.

In Atlanta’s most recent manifestation of the word, Fantasy is both the subject of a multimedia exhibition by five artists and the name of their loose collective. The group was born out of SOUP Experimental, which bills itself as “Tallahassee’s premier outlet for emerging artist and experimental art,” and is showing at the relatively new artist-run space Day & Night Projects. The collaboration between the two collectives will be mutually beneficial, as SOUP will be hosting Day & Night Projects in their gallery in December.

Matthew Lawrence takes fantasy down the dark and twisted road in his work All New Tuesday Night. The large banner takes on, according to the statement, “representations of abstracted celebrity archetypes as well as reveal what might be choreographed moments in domestic spaces.” Besides the title, obvious references to television or celebrity are not readily identifiable. There are three silhouettes, and out of their forehead words flow from one to another at a 45-degree angle that is demarcated in red. The words over top the red are rendered in a loose script with just enough information missing that you can’t see or really make out what it says. Like bad thoughts made visual, the cartoonish severed hands and dark intestinal squiggles give the painting an edge of vaguely murderous intent.

The worn domesticity of Home, Sweet Home speaks to the fragility of our habitats and homes not being made to last. Ashton Bird’s sculpture is a mishmash of weathered building material as if thrown away demolition debris fused in a dumpster. The work consists of a knocked over column, topped cracked Pale tile, the side revealing a sticky mesh under layer that transitions to a weather wood siding over top and mostly supported by concrete parking bollard, the gesture connected with a shredded Persian carpet. This column lays over a panel with tufts of black tar paper, plaster and concrete. Home, Sweet Home has a mortal, decaying quality from being left outside for some time, which left it with bugs stuck to the mesh along its side. The work reminds me of the variance between the way my childhood home looked like in mind versus the experience of it 20 years later.

Filling the gallery with the sound is the work Did you see them? Did you hear them? by Sierra Kramer.  The whimsical work consists of four cloud-shaped puffs of pillows that beckon the viewer to lie against the wall and listen. A soothing, feminine voice tells vivid and nostalgic childhood stories with Mama Jean. Mama Jean’s way of interpreting reality infuses mundane with fantasy; moments of rain turn lizards into party animal, light spots into fairies that dance around the room and African violets that love music. One pillow’s sound is just that of ambient noise and the occasional twinkle of wind chimes and plays right into Chelsea Raflo’s work.

The Atlanta-born Raflo, who has exhibited in numerous venues across the city and southeast is working toward an M.F.A. at Florida State University. Like Kramer, Raflo’s approach to fantasy is playful, lively and childlike, presented by a series of mobile sculptures. Negotiation in Space stands out as my favorite piece in the exhibition and has the precise feel of an architectural drawing. Delicate enough to spin with the force of your breath, the mobiles are nested together to form a chandelier-like installation. Through spare geometric forms like lines, cubes and spheres, Raflo explores “the kinetic energy of suspended objects and the negotiations of balance that results in simple, elegant arrangements.” The piece is a contradictory mix of complex and airy with an effortless attention to detail.

Lucia Riffel delves into questions of, “Where does the internet go when we aren’t looking?” and the intersection of digital, physical and psychological spaces. Cloud, a term used as a metaphor for the internet, is a video of a digitally rendered room from two angles reminiscent of early 3D video games. The reflections of the mirrored walls of the room extend the ambiguous polygonal landscape, making it look bigger than it is. The words “Is this Forever?” float in front of and then pass through a round portal. This wrestles with the idiosyncrasies of a system with a permanent-seeming way of capturing ephemeral moments. It brings to mind the self-censorship that can accompany the desire to share over the internet.

Fantasy is an approach, an interpretation taken in very personal directions at Day & Night Projects. In this exhibition it becomes the lens through which the subject is manipulated into work that looks very different from its neighbor, where things like celebrity, domesticity and the internet mingle apart from reality. SOUP Experimental is only a year-and-a-half old, but the DIY Tallahassee outlet has already proven itself ambitious with a prolific exhibition schedule and collaborative ventures with spaces like Day & Night projects. This intriguing Atlanta debut by the collective Fantasy is sure not to be the last we see of them.

Source: http://artsatl.com/review-day-and-nights-f...

Review: The allure of summer re:FRESH

Originally published on ArtsATL.com

There is a cultural rhythm to summer that transcends school, the heat slowing down our productivity, bright nights a little more lively than usual and a restless need to get away. Swan Coach House Gallery presented a summer pop-up and seamless combination of two curatorial projects, I SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING… curated by Jordan Stubbs and summer swan songs curated by Karen Tauches. With a teen vibe and Tumblr aesthetic, re:FRESH mixes equal parts shenanigans, effortlessness and boredom — appropriate for a show about tuning out.

Peak self-care can be found in Dianna Settles’ flat but sophisticated paintings. Daria meets Alex Katz in mundane scenes: characters sit around, eat Chinese food or apply a face mask. The “cannot-be-bothered” attitude fits reductive, confident construction of the works, which is amplified by the mix of matte and gloss, which lends the painting a just finished appearance. Small specific details, like the poster of 2046 (a Hong Kong romantic drama), disappear with a bit of code switching at play that “springs from the anxieties of both loss and reclamation of identity politics.”

Like two teens crashing a pool after hours, Jane Foley and Erin Palovick’s site-specific installation Silent like a Waterfall features the two artists swimming around while wearing athleisure. The two-channel video of the swim feels voyeuristic, the camera angles switch intermittently from body cam style to underwater CCTV. At one point, the video is refracted through a cut crystal bowl, which splits into a vivid prism of green rays — a gorgeous detail of the work. The peeping Tom feeling of the piece is amplified by interaction. In order to get to the upper level of the Swan Coach House Restaurant, where this temporary installation was set, viewers must be guided through the dark by Palovick and sent up the elevator with Foley.

Interiors_1.mp4 by Saige Rowe with Skylar Rowe is meta video of a video camera. The screen doubles its subject’s movements but occasionally syncopated and moves independently to the scene in front of the camera — images of the ceiling fan, of Saige sitting in a chair, of Saige being scooted around in the chair by Skylar. The sketches are infused with a feeling of anticipation. Equally opaque is Blare LeBlonk’s (a.k.a. Gently Yoused a.k.a. Blair LeBlanc) absurd video, Maggie, Morgan, and Tyler rub lotion on their leg. Three people are stuffed in one shirt, not quite Siamese triplets, more like three children dressing up as one adult. The two arms work in blind unison to lotion up one leg on a loop. It evokes themes of peer pressure or Bunraku, but besides that, I’m not sure what to make of the triune figure.

Meredith Kooi: summer swan songs (2017).

Perhaps easiest to miss is the funfetti flecked copies of Hypersigil by NicholasGoodly, if you generally follow the rule of not touching the art in a gallery. The stack of poems, lump of crystal and essential oils initially struck me as a simple installation, but with the encouragement of the show’s image list, I took one. It is worth it to go see this show to get a copy of this poem, which is so lovely, both as poetry and the paper it is printed on, that my instinct is to frame it.The title refers to a term used to describe a feedback loop between the self and an external presence, or in this specific case, the relationship with us and patience, “a lonely hue we become / a being into a lesson learned.”  

Davion Alston takes on pop culture and sexuality in Another Body of/for Work. The image of a computer screen is divided into an approximate golden rectangle, a square of it containing a photo of Kim Kardashian climbing up a pile of dirt in heels on the internet (specifically from the Kanye, Juergen & Kim photobook), the smaller rectangle is an image on a dark background of Alston reclining nude in tall grasses.  The work is full of contrast: male versus female, the light grey of the Chrome browser aligned on bottom against the dark grey of Adobe (Lightroom, Photoshop, Bridge?), his nudity against her impractical fashion.

Also responding to internet phenomena is Aubrey Longley Cook’s translation of memes into cross stitches. This is an interesting subject because the medium strips the memes of their punchlines and casual ubiquity. Memes were first popularized by 4chan, which also gave rise to the toxic masculine alt-right, which Cook feminizes. In re:Fresh frogs face off in a side-by-side of but that’s none of my business, the meme of Kermit drinking tea hung next to rest in Pepe, an image of a frog dissection. The frog dissection is a not specific meme but refers indirectly to Pepe the Frog, the adopted mascot of white supremacists and alt-right, to the aghast of its creator cartoonist Matt Furie, who recently killed off Pepe in an anthology for Free Comic Book Day. In response to the use of Pepe during the election, Kermit memes were paired with #ImWithKer on a play on Hillary Clinton’s slogan, “I’m with Her.”

The opening night crescendoed with two performances. First, all attendees were ushered out of the gallery space to experience a spotlit poetry reading by Goodly as he stood on the outside staircase. Each poem was marked by anointing himself with the essential oils and then sharing with the crowd once he had finished. The show’s finale was a collection of EVP (electronic voice phenomena) ghost recordings by Meredith Kooi. She unveiled the instruments, previously shrouded, some propped up on green pillows, a kind of real-life ghostbuster. Kooi engaged with the Swan Coach House over the summer to make these recordings from the building, which according to Tauches is,  “Rumored to be haunted.”  The electronic buzz grew like the hum of cicadas, ever louder and creepily interspersed with pips of trumpet and trombone music, and speaking.

re:FRESH hinges on taking care of oneself and getting away, even if only temporarily and in your mind. Following the election, self-care became a buzzy overnight trend as a reaction to the daily onslaught of news campaigns. It can feel both necessary and suspiciously selfish. While putting on your own gas mask isn’t wrong, it’s a matter of what comes after self-care, whether it’s compassionately caring for others or staying perilously indifferent. In the uneasy balance between self-preservation and engaging actively with the world’s struggles, re:FRESH chooses to play it safe.

Source: http://artsatl.com/review-allure-summer-re...

Review: MINT achieves synchronicity with Downtown Players Club with “In Touch”

Originally published on ArtsATL.com

The still-without-a-permanent-home MINT recently presented a satellite show at the Downtown Players Club. In Touch: A Collection of Works by Past and Present Interns is as much a show about tactile work as it is about contact. The curatorial statement notes, “Touch can be a physical connection or bond with someone or something. It can also be an intangible presence, a latent imprint left behind.” Much of the artwork is fluid, reactive, and part of the show’s success hinges on the strength of the Downtown Players Club as a space.

Sarah Nathaniel’s process-based work focuses on line as the primary element of minimal black-and-white paintings. 4 Lines, 78 Lines is made up of drips of black ink that navigate either horizontally or vertically. A difficult-to-see layer of white on white grid underneath guides the indecisive lines in a jittery fashion, like an abstract expressionist etch-a-sketch. Although the frenetic feel can seem counter to the description that her works are “the function of simple meditations,” this can be attributed to the difficulties of soothing anxiety and clearing the mind. Untitled is my favorite of Nathaniel’s, the crackled paint resembling a burnt beam, the visual statement fully resolved. This piece echoes the peeling paint of the upper portion of the main gallery space.

In contrast to the regimented rules that characterize process-based art, the work of Lacey Longino plays with visual interest. Her large paintings knit together texture and a variety of marks in an almost map-like fashion. Balancing marks weave in and out alongside brads, staples, chicken wire, the wooden stretcher support and textiles. The ruffled roll of what appears to be an armchair forming the edge of LF, NF, 1 is a surprising gesture — stitched and ripped like a boldly feminine Rauschenberg. L, T, 1A is more delicate, the large work on paper tacked to the wall and framed with a gauzy pleated edge that gently blurs the edges between drawing and painting.

Senescence Revisited by Abby Bullard is fleshy yet ethereal. Giving it some time let unfold the tiny details like delicately frayed edges and tiny copper wire stitches. The pale and wrinkled sheets of framed paper are infused with subtle washes of color, the green and lavender of veins and bruises. Like pinned insect shadowboxes, there is a bit of death and morbid curiosity in these monoprints, like pale flakes of skin carefully preserved and arranged. The work evokes Eva Hesse’s latex and rubber works as they look now, yellowing, aging and losing something.

The highlight of the exhibition is It Goes On by Savonna Nicole Atkins. The raw edges of the venue manifested in a single missing ceiling tile form a kind of tonal and dark reverse skylight in Atkins’ work, an otherwise brightly lit and saturated installation. A patchwork of fabric, thread, paint and tape, It Goes On is like a tumble of laundry picked up by a tornado. Whirling up and out of the landscape of shaggy green carpet up the sky blue walls, the work captures some of the reality of our connection in an increasingly divided world — sewn together but clashing with the thin red line of fate and chance.

Savonna Nicole Atkins: It Goes On (2017). (Photo by Keri Weiland Photography, courtesy MINT Gallery.)

In Touch is a natural sequel of the previous show, Bipartisan, a performance that produced nonrepresentational, mark-centric formal murals. This influence is partially because the end result was left partly intact but also literal in the case of Jenny Fisher’s installation. Apparitions is composed of the black-and-white rubbings made from the colorful murals of Bipartisan before they were half whitewashed into gallery walls. The scrolls are draped in a black room, forming a curtain of black-and-white stripes. This echoes the geometry of the ceiling, which has the gridded frame of a drop ceiling sans the tiles. The overall effect is a strong visual statement, but the one-way collaboration is missing information in the way empty houses hold the energy of their past but not necessarily the stories.

This is how much of the artwork settles in so synchronistically to the total environment, alluding to the transformation of building, transforming and destroying. After a year and a half of operation, it feels like the space has built up enough history to have its own dynamism beyond the quirky low budget rehab of a dilapidated dentist’s office. Unfortunately, the venue’s future iteration is uncertain given the recent acquisition of the building by developer Newport Holdings.

Source: http://artsatl.com/review-mints-in-touch/

10 artists you should know, but maybe don't.

I made this list of mostly local, potentially obscure, unrepresented artists for a friend of mine looking for recommendations. I decided to turn my email into a blog post because I do feel very strongly about the artists and feel like you should get to know these 10 killers too.

Iman Person (organic, wormy, mystical sculptress + drawings)


Christopher Paul Dean (conceptual, construction zone semotics, wood sculptures + paintings). 


Kaye Lee Patton (photo paintings with a healthy dose of texture, nostalgia & beautiful installations)


Angela Davis Johnson (figurative paintings brightly rendered in blocky forms)


Manty Dey (acrylic paint pours onto plexi that dry into a sort of plastic paper, then manipulated into drapery) 

Norah Zagorski (a ceramicist that has impressed with her conceptual and technical abilities since she's still in or fresh out of school)


Vivian Liddell (just a really incredible painter who sometimes incorporates embroidery into her work)


Truett Dietz (woven collages under resin and xxxlarge paintings of neon)


Stephanie Raborn (muted floral and lettering drawing / painting on paper)


India K (she makes banners and then photographs them in her room and in the environment)

Mini Review: “EST ARS VITAE”

Originally published on ArtsATL.com

EST ARS VITAE at Poem88

Carl Honoré lays out the heart of the Slow Movement in his book In Praise of Slowness like this: “Be fast when it makes sense to be fast, and be slow when slowness is called for. Seek to live at what musicians call the tempo giusto — the right speed.” Poem 88’s show EST ARS VITAE (Latin for “the art of life”), fits neatly with this concept of finding an appropriate tempo to maximize quality.  At the root of this exhibition is an invitation to slowly contemplate small natural forms in detail-saturated images.

Sean Abrahams’ black and white stippled “Inky Freakout 3” is the sort of drawing that I could look at forever. The psychedelic landscape has a push and pull of positive and negative space typical of optical illusions. Similarly playing with positive and negative space is Zuzka Vaclavik’s painting “HWY A1A.” The painting’s history of built-up texture achieved through a multitude of layers, underneath meticulously taped-off flat color. In a different way, Mike Goodlett achieves this contradiction of form in “untitled (sculpture).” It has the plush appearance of a soft textile work, cast in pastel toned Hydro-Stone plaster.

What makes all of the work in EST ARS VITAE so visually appealing, and why it feels so slow, is a result of marathon level of dedication to the image. At the opening, Vaclavik revealed that it took a year to finish the painting, working 30 hours a week on it. Hannah Adair estimated the total time spent on her three works at around 240 hours. Rejecting the cult of speed in favor of a felt circadian clock marked by seasons has paid off with dividends with beautifully fertile work. 

Source: http://artsatl.wpengine.com/review-round-u...