SOFA Chicago 2016

That's the very talented DMV artist Audrey Wilson, who is Alida Anderson Art Projects' gallery director, setting up the booth at SOFA Chicago 2016.


We're in booth 500 - send us a note for complimentary passes.


Showcasing work by Lori Katz, Dulce Pinzon, Tim Vermeulen, Alma Selimovic, Elissa Farrow-Savos, Audrey Wilson, Davin Ebanks and me!

Lori Katz setting up her wall at SOFA Chicago 2016
Booth 500 with Alida Anderson Art Projects, LLC

Audrey WIlson setting up her work at SOFA Chicago 2016
Booth 500 with Alida Anderson Art Projects, LLC

Picasso’s Widow Accused of Hiding Hundreds of Artworks from Picasso's Heirs

On Monday, 77-year-old Pierre Le Guennec told a French appeals court that he lied about how he came to be in the possession of hundreds of works on paper by Pablo Picasso. The retired electrician, hired by Picasso in the 1970s for a series of odd jobs, originally claimed that the painter’s then-wife Jacqueline had gifted him a box full of artworks in 1971 or 1972. Le Guennec now says Jacqueline Picasso (who committed suicide in 1986) stored between 15 and 17 trash bags full of Picasso collages, prints, and watercolors at his home in 1973 following the artist’s death, leaving one behind as a thank-you when she reclaimed the works.

Read the whole article here. 

This Thursday: Artomatic 2016 Opens!

Artomatic 2016 comes to Montgomery County, Maryland, for the first time in its nearly seventeen year history, for its signature free arts event to be held from November 3 - December 9.


Yep! The planet's largest free and open group art show... the show that artists and the public loves - and art critics hate - is back!


Artomatic 2016 comes to Park Potomac, a Montgomery County neighborhood.


Park Potomac is located where Montrose Road crosses I-270; Artomatic will be held at 12435 Park Potomac Avenue. With 45,000 square feet of display space on the 5th and 6th floors featuring 380 artists, Artomatic will include a special opening weekend celebration beginning on Thursday, November 3.



"By artists and for everyone," Artomatic is well-known for temporarily transforming empty spaces into vibrant arts events that celebrate creativity and create a unique and exciting opportunity for tens of thousands of visitors. This is the show that we all love, and art critics hate (mostly because they usually don't have the mental batteries to write about an art show that can include 1,000 non-juried artists!).

Anyone and everyone can present their art at Artomatic, and presentation spaces are always selected on a first-come, first serve basis -- so it’s a great way to discover new art and artists. This is what makes this show unique on the planet - it is a great charging of artistic batteries for artists, and a great place for beginner and experienced collectors to pick among the 100s of artists to find that gem!


Perfect timing if you wanna see artwork that will range form the sublime to the mundane! Artomatic is about to open up again... It's a little smaller than usual, but still around 350 artists!! Details at http://www.artomatic.org/
 
I'll repeat: It's easily the best place to find the wildest range of art on the planet! See a review of one from 2012 here: http://dcartnews.blogspot.com/2012/06/artomatic-2012-review.html
This one from 2009: http://dcartnews.blogspot.com/2009/07/final-artomatic-top-10-artists-of-2009.html and here: http://dcartnews.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-artomatic-picks-now-that-i-have.html
2011: http://dcartnews.blogspot.com/2011/10/artomatic-frederick-i-finally-made-it.html
2004: http://dcartnews.blogspot.com/2004/12/artomatic-2004-review-slightly.html
Wann know why art critics hate Artomatic, but everyone else loves it: http://dcartnews.blogspot.com/2009/06/criticism-journalism-ethics-and-aom-ive.html and also: http://dcartnews.blogspot.com/2009/05/artomatic-opens-tomorrow-if-you-are.html

At a time of regional transformation, people are looking for art and gathering destinations right where they live, and Artomatic brings this "New Suburbanism" place-making to Montgomery County. People want a sense of interaction; Artomatic has shown that it can catalyze a sense of greater community within a community that transforms people and places. This is why Maryland National Capital Park and Planning Commission and the Arts & Humanities County of Montgomery County are Artomatic’s enthusiastic sponsors.

Every day and night of the event, people visit Artomatic to discover new art, engage other likeminded visitors, bring friends, grab a drink, listen to music, and mingle with the creative community and get to know the surrounding community of Park Potomac. Says Lisa Wood of Foulger Pratt, "We’re always looking for ways to introduce Park Potomac’s uniqueness and engage with our wonderful community. 

This is an amazing opportunity and we are excited to host this innovative organization." Artomatic’s online calendar lists performances times and special events, including Saturday workshops for parents and kids. No matter what kind of creative events you or your friends and family like, you’ll find something to enjoy at Artomatic.

Visitors will enjoy easy access to Artomatic from the Montrose West Exit off I-270. The Park Potomac community, with its colorful floral mural is a landmark. Enter the complex by the lane marked for Park Potomac Avenue, circle the round-a-bout, and follow the signs to Artomatic at 12435 Park Potomac Avenue. Plentiful two hour free garage and surface parking is on site.

Or come by Metro via Red Line and transfer to RideOn buses 42 or 47. Check WMATA Trip Planner for further information, and see the Artomatic website about Foulger-Pratt weekday shuttle service from White Flint Metro Station direct to Artomatic.

For the latest information about Artomatic 2016, how to participate in the future, when to visit, the activities and events calendar, subscribe to Artomatic by email or Facebook and visit www.artomatic.org.


What: Artomatic 2016, an arts spectacular at Park Potomac in Montgomery County.

When: Thursday, November 3 – Friday, December 9, 2016:


Thursdays: Noon – 10 pm

Fridays: Noon – Midnight

Saturdays: Noon - Midnight

Sunday: Noon – 6 pm

Closed on Thanksgiving Day
Where: 12435 Park Potomac Avenue, Potomac, Maryland, Floors 5 and 6.

Who: For everyone and for free. Persons under 18 must be accompanied by an adult.

Performance: For information about how to perform at Artomatic, visit:


http://www.artomatic.org/participate/artists/performing
Website: www.artomatic.org

Social Media: Facebook: Facebook.com/Artomatic Twitter: @ARTOMATIC

Open Studio this Saturday

McNamara Design is pleased to host an open studio night to present the work of two artists, Art by Aaron Hill and Chelsea Kaplan Design. This event is free and open to the public. There will be snacks, drinks and music to accompany the exhibition. Art displayed will include fine art, design, and furniture rehab.

McNamara Design
4216B Howard Avenue
Kensington, MD 20895http://www.mcnamara-design.com/

Saturday, 11/5
8:30-10:30pm
Free and open to the public

https://www.facebook.com/events/996741763785364/?ti=ia

Brian Williams was there

Juicy Fruit Perfume: An American Remembers his Cuban Childhood

Below is a peek from Juicy Fruit Perfume: An American Remembers his Cuban Childhood, my biography, which is currently scheduled to be published in 2020.

Depending on who you believe, the mother of all rock fights started with either a push, or a slip into the dirty, sewage waters of the Guaso River in Guantanamo, Cuba.



Even now, nearly fifty years later, it stands out as vividly, as spectacular, as surreal and as immensely impossible, as on the day that it happened.



Sometimes in the early 1960’s a new baseball stadium was built in the outskirts of Guantanamo, in a neighborhood back then known as San Justo. At the time, to us children it was beautiful new place, a shrine to the love of baseball that all Cubans have. We didn’t notice or care, that all seats were made of cement, and that it was a grim, stark and bare bones space, as if an East German architect had designed it.



But at least to us boys it was a wonderful, beautiful place, where once in a while even the Orientales, the provincial team that represented our honor in the national baseball leagues (and always seemed to lose to the hated Havana teams), played.



My father also loved baseball, and he was the un-official baseball escort for all the boys in the neighborhood, and often he would lead a dozen of us ruffians to a game at the stadium, which was named Van Troi, in honor of a shadowy slain North Vietnamese guerrilla fighter who had been killed in the Viet Nam war.



Why name a baseball stadium after a man who probably never heard of baseball was also a mystery to us, especially since we all knew the names of all the real baseball gods, both Cuban and Americans. But more on baseball later.



As I said, Van Troi Stadium was a few miles outside of the city, and we all usually caught the bus that stopped at the bottom of Second Street, directly across from side of our house that ran downhill through that street. We took that bus to the edge of the city and from there we all walked, usually with hundreds of other people, to the Stadium.



From Guantanamo the trek to the Stadium could be made via two different routes. The longer and safer route was through the metal bridge that spanned the Guaso River. Crossing this bridge was always a thrilling adventure to me. The bridge was a metal arch, and the walkways on either side were made of metal grilles that allowed you to see the river below you as one crossed the bridge.



Because the bridge was – at least in my eyes – just a few feet above the rushing water, there was always a sense of immediacy – and danger – from the fast flowing Guaso River rushing underneath your feet. It was also quite a long crossing, as the Guaso was a rather wide river at that point and often, when augmented by tropical rains (as when the Flora hurricane passed through Oriente province in the early 60’s), would flood the edges of the city. In fact, the metal bridge of my memories may have been a "new" bridge built after Flora, which may have wiped out the older bridge.



Anyway, the bridge crossing was adventurous, and I would always plan it ahead at the beginning of the crossing. I always had a strategy in case I fell off the bridge or in case the bridge collapsed while I was in the middle of it. This always demanded knowing exactly where on the bridge I was, and which direction (backwards or forwards) was the shortest path to land.



Once we crossed the bridge, the road to the Stadium was through a slightly hilly unpaved street, almost a country road, and sometimes we would stop and rest at a house where my father was friends with the family who lived there.



There we would always buy a bottle of pru, which is a homemade Cuban soft drink. We would usually bring the drinks along the rest of the walk to the stadium and sometimes carry extra bottles with us to drink later.



Once, my cousin Cesar had the task of carrying all the extra bottles, and when we arrived at the Stadium, we discovered that he had drunk all of them on the way to the ballpark.



As pru is actually some kind of a fermented non-alcoholic drink, and being homemade, possibly not the purest of drinks, he immediately developed a tremendous case of diarrhea halfway through the game and never made it to the stadium’s bathroom, and managed to shit all over his pants, much to his embarrassment and to our delight.



In any event, this route was the safer, but the longer of the two ways to get to Van Troi Stadium. The second route was a short cut that involved crossing the river though a series of rocks that had been strategically placed at a narrower portion of the river, about half a mile downriver from the bridge.



Now, these weren’t (by any stretch of the imagination), large, flat rocks, but a series of mossy, slippery rocks which sometimes even demanded a slight jump from rock to rock, rather than just steps. In fact sometimes, one could actually step from rock to rock, while other times you needed a synchronized ballet to jump to a small rock, and use it as a spring to the next, larger safer rock, as there was no room in the small rock to actually land and stabilize one’s body. It was a dangerous and almost incredible risk, and yet at the time it seemed as natural as crossing the bridge.



The choice was always based on the availability of the rocks themselves. If the river was too high, then we took the bridge, if the river was low and the rocks exposed, then we’d all cross the river at the rock crossing. Hundreds of people, usually all men and boys, would use this alternate route, all heading to the game through the river shortcut.



To add an ever greater sense of danger to this crossing, was the repugnant fact that the city’s raw sewer lines came out somewhere between the bridge and the rock crossing.



And this was completely untreated, raw sewage at its most luxuriant stage of smell and visibility. The river, which was clean and clear when we looked at it from the bridge, became shit brown and foul by the time it arrived at the rock crossing and turds floated like brown torpedoes all around you as you gingerly made your way across the rocks.



It never occurred to us why the rock crossing had been built after the sewage lines, rather than before it – who knows, perhaps it pre-dated the sewage lines, but the immense danger of crossing the river by skipping across slippery, mossy rocks was multiplied by a million when one considered what would happen if one had the misfortune to slip and fall into the shit water.



And it did happen quite often! Someone would be a little too cavalier in the crossing, or sometimes someone too tipsy from drinking too much beer at the games, lose concentration, slip and fall, to the cheers and laughter and applause of the rest of us. And falling near the riverbed was the worst, as the shit tended to concentrate there, while the river current, although faster and more dangerous in the middle, tended to keep the middle of the river cleaner.



The edges were absolutely gross. A luxuriant, rich, thick mixture of shit and mud demanded strict attention and concentration. In response to this, whoever had originally placed the rocks to build the crossing, had thankfully placed larger rocks at the edges, some of which actually could accommodate several persons at once. This had an indirect cause in the overall accumulations of tiny events that all led to the greatest rock fight in history.



I always recall the crossing of the river at this point as a true adventure.


Sometimes I was a pirate, usually Emilio Salgari's El Corsario Negro, getting away from the Spanish soldiers; at other times I was an astronaut discovering another planet. But I was always in a high state of concentration, always ensuring that I never slipped and always focusing on the next rock, especially when we neared the edges, and the river became a mass of mojones, which is what we called turds, and birds eating all the gross insect life that lived amongst it.



Sometimes a particularly spectacular mojon would float by, or a fleet of mojones, to the delight of us kids crossing the river. We would shout in unison and point to the mojones and exaggerate their sizes and speed. The word mojon is an interesting one, and I’m not sure where it comes from, or if it is a Cuban slang or a true Castilian word. It literally means someone or something that is wet, and has no relation that I can think of to the Spanish word for shit, which is mierda.



Regardless, the river at this point was full of mojones, and stinking of mierda and we would always be alert and I never recall any of our gang falling into the river.



Until the greatest rock fight in history. Truly the mother of all rock fights.



On that particular day, we had all trekked to the stadium not to watch a baseball game, but to watch something different in our perception of sports, at least to Cubans: a soccer match.



While soccer is a big thing in nearly all Latin American countries, in fact nearly a religion in most, it was and probably still is, a curiosity and ignored as a sport by most Cubans.



This arises from the fact that soccer – like bullfights – was a "Spanish sport" enjoyed by Spaniards in Cuba, and thus disliked immediately by Cubans, who wished to remove all things Spanish from the young republic. Spaniards like soccer and bullfights while Cubans preferred baseball and cockfights; Spaniards drank wine, Cubans drank beer and rum, etc.



Anyway, on the day of the greatest rock fight in history, there was a soccer match staged at Van Troi stadium, and as most of us had never seen a soccer match before, a curious crowd of several thousand local men and boys made the trip, either through the bridge or through the rock crossing, and congregated at the ballpark to watch the game.



It was a disaster.



One of the teams had traveled from Havana, and included many Russian players. It was on a nationwide tour to help spread soccer among Cubans. The second team was made up at the last minute from Guantanamo men from the Institute (the local junior college) or local baseball players who had not been selected for any of the national league teams. I bet that for some of the locals, it was the first time that they had ever actually played soccer.



It was the most boring sports spectacle that I recall ever witnessing, played on a baseball field, with the pitching mound still in place, and soccer lines marked at the last minute with white chalk lines.



I recall the entire game consisting of the ball being kicked from one extreme end of the field to the other, with little of the precision and foot skills that only experienced soccer players can display. One just can’t show up one day and decide to dribble with your feet – it just doesn’t happen, and it showed.



And Cubans are just not culturally designed to play soccer, which demands precise teamwork and strategy, as opposed to individualism on the field, which is what the inept soccer players on the soccer pitch, I mean baseball field turned soccer pitch for that day, attempted to do.



The crowd was bored and delighted us by hurling insults at the players, and booing throughout, and only applauding when a fight broke out on the field, which was practically every few minutes, when aggressive, inept Cuban men kicked each other’s shins in futile attempts to get to the ball.



The soccer experiment was a boring disaster, and when the game ended, scoreless as I recall, the crowd was in a dark mood as it left the Stadium and headed back to the city, most of us through the river rock crossing.



And this mood was the second ingredient in the recipe for the chain of events that led to the greatest rock fight in history.



Here is what happened.



I had just crossed the river, and along with my father behind me, begun the slight climb from the river slopes towards the streets above it. At that point, one had a great view of the river and I recall turning around to see the long line of people, like ants, crossing the river, jumping rocks, and making their way back to the city.



And then it happened.



Monguito fell into the shit water; not the middle, cleaner part of the river, with fast moving water and smaller rocks, but near the banks of the river, with turgid, stagnant mud and shit.



Whether he slipped or fell is a matter of debate. As I noted before, these bank rocks were larger and thus "safer" than the smaller, middle-of-the-river rocks, and Monguito claims that as he was standing on one of these rocks, Gustavito, who lived in the house directly below our house on Second Street, and who was a perennial enemy of the Monguito brothers, pushed him from behind.



Gustavito, who was a feisty (and always ready to pick a fight), scruffy, short bulldog of a boy, with a flat top blonde haircut, and he looked like a miniature of his father, who was a professional boxer, has always denied pushing Monguito, claiming that he was nowhere near Monguito when Monguito fell or was pushed in.



Anyway, Monguito emerged from the river completely covered in shit and mud and looking for revenge. The people who were still on the rocks were dying of laughter as he made his way up the banks of the river, and the crossing momentarily stopped as the elder of the two Monguito brothers emerged from the muck. I say "the elder of the two Monguito brothers", as he and his brother Pepin, were always, for some odd reason, referred to as "the Monguito brothers."



Monguito turned to face his laughing tormentors, and he was looking for revenge.



He then spotted Gustavito, still on a rock on the river, also laughing and in fact doubled over with laughter. And in Monguito’s mind, somehow, it became clear that his archenemy had some hand in his fall.



And he picked up a rock, and with the brilliant aim of someone with a thousand previous rock fights of experience, lobbed it in a long arch towards Gustavito, who was too lost in laughter to notice the incoming missile as it hit him and made him fall into the river.



Now the other river crossers really exploded in laughter – this was too much! Two falls in one crossing – this alone was worth the boring experience of the soccer game!



But Gustavito, who had not seen who had thrown the rock, emerged from the river also looking for revenge, and incredibly enough began picking up rocks from the river itself and pelting the crowd with shit covered missiles.



And suddenly pandemonium broke out as people began to fall into the river and more rock throwers were added to the battle. From our safe side on the land, we all joined in to try to nail those still clinging to the relative safety of the rocks.



Some tried to turn back and head to the other side, colliding with crossers coming over and more and more people fell into the water, creating several water battles as men fought each other in the water, on rocks and on the shore.


And the people already on the banks of the rivers were also good targets for us, as we were higher above them on the streets that ran parallel to the river.



And thus, from the relative safety of those streets above the river, we were on a superior position to rain rocks on all of those unfortunate souls below us while being able to dodge all incoming rocks; all except Pepin, who as usual got his head cracked open by a rock, even though he was with us on the streets, desperately, from his superior position, trying to help his brother Monguito below.



And for a glorious ten minutes or so, the greatest rock fight in history went on along the shitty shores of the Guaso River, involving perhaps one hundred men and boys of all ages, with the distinct advantage to those on the shore, many of which were covered in shit, having at one point been on rocks and knocked off either trying to avoid a rock, or being hit by one or pushed by another person attempting to cling to the rock.



If the latter was the case, then it was a matter of honor to get to the shore and attempt to knock off your pusher by nailing him with a rock.



At some point in the battle, even flying turds were being lobbed, to the horror of some of the participants, already covered in shit, who were now being pelted by flying turds and mud.



I cannot remember how and when the greatest rock fight in history ended, perhaps the militia or the cops showed up, but I do recall walking back all the way from the edge of the city to our neighborhood, because there were three in our group completely covered in shit: Monguito, Gustavito and Cesar, who somehow had ended up in the river as well, and Pepin covered in blood from his head wound.



Because of shit and blood, the bus driver would not allow them in, and my father couldn’t leave them to walk alone from that far. It was quite an interesting trek, and we made them walk downwind behind us, only stopping once in a while to break up the occasional fights between Monguito and Gustavito.



When we got home, my grandmother gave my father hell over his supervision of us, and Elba, Pepin’s mother, swore blue murder at my father for not taking Pepin directly to the hospital.



My grandmother then took Cesar to the back garden, where he was hosed down with the garden hose, while the rest of us, less the other two who had fallen in, and Pepin who was on his way to the hospital for his usual visit to stitch up his head, climbed to the roof of the house to watch Cesar being scrubbed clean from head to toe while we drank cold lemonade that my mother had just made.



Thus truly ended the greatest rock fight in history.

Teaching Students with Autism

I would like to reach out to you constant readers about an upcoming webinar series of free lunchtime ‘lightening’ (10-15 min) talks on the topic of drama and Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) sponsored by the Kennedy Center/VSA.

 

You can find information about the presenters and free registration in the Kennedy Center’s link below for November’s webinar series on drama and ASD.

 

The lightening talks are designed to be short presentations at 12 noon on Tuesdays in November, followed by Q and A's with participants.

 

When you register, you will have access to all of the speakers’ materials and the video/transcriptions from the webinars in case you cannot attend live and would still like to receive the information.

Teaching Students with Autism: What Teaching Theater Teaches Us

Tuesdays in November from 12:30 p.m. to 12:45 p.m.

 

Join the Kennedy Center this November as they kick off a four part, mini-series of FREE lunchtime webinars on Teaching Students with Autism: What Teaching Theater Teaches Us. In this series, three psychologists will share insights from their research on how theater activities affect cognitive and social skills in children with autism spectrum disorders. On the final webinar, a special educator will discuss how those findings impact classroom practice. Details here.

Art Money, a New Startup, Is Offering Collectors Money to Buy Art

Gallery-hopping in Chelsea on a Thursday night or strolling through the booths of an art fair can be a masterclass in window shopping. For most people, the pieces on sale are simply impossible to afford or financially irresponsible to buy. Even for those with means, who would technically be capable of purchasing pieces at the lower end of the market, $1,000 to $50,000 can feel like a prohibitively expensive amount to spend all at once. But Art Money, a company that launched in the U.S. during EXPO Chicago, is looking to change the mental math behind buying a work of art.

Read the whole article here. 

Wanna go to an opening tonight?

Opening Reception

Thursday, October 27th, 6:30 - 8:00pm
 RSVP at the facebook event page

Show Dates

October 27 - November 27

Long View Gallery’s newest exhibition, PAPER, features new work by some of the gallery’s favorites including Amy Genser, Gian Garofalo, Colin Winterbottom, Eve Stockton and Joelle Dietrick as well as exciting new artists Elizabeth Graeber and Gunjan Aylawadi.

 Long View Gallery

1234 Ninth St NW, Washington, DC 20001longviewgallerydc.com
info@longviewgallery.com | 202.232.4788facebook page

Crystal Bridges Museum on Lida Moser

Although not as well known as Diane Arbus or Dorthea Lang, Lida Moser’s persistence in furthering her career in a male-dominated field and refusal to be relegated to shooting one type of photography, continues to be an inspiration to photographers.

Read the whole piece here.

Horses in Virginia at auction

The below 1994 drawing just showed up at auction... more images and bidding details here.




"Horses in Virginia" by F. Lennox Campello
Charcoal on Paper, c. 1994
Framed to 21x17 inches

Arte Latino Now

Happy to have been selected to participate in Arte Latino Now: An Exhibition of Latino Artists 2017 at Queens University of Charlotte.




The exhibition will be held from January 17 – February 17, 2017. The opening reception is Thursday, January 17, 2017 from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.


My piece below will be part of this show.... you can see the video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umXh-XbUWHM&feature=youtu.be




"Cuban by Ancestry, But American by the Grace of God"
Charcoal and Conte on Paper with Embedded Video Loop
18x24 inches, c. 2016

Occult & Horror Art Show this Friday

The life of an art dealer

Read it here.

Multiple Exposures Gallery’s Photo’16 exhibit

Multiple Exposures Gallery’s Photo’16 exhibit.  II am told that it's up on the walls and looks GREAT!

 The artist reception, award presentations and gallery talk by juror Sam Abell is Saturday, October 29, 2-4pm.

Some interesting facts about the exhibit:

• 33 selected photographers, 15 were from the greater Washington, D.C. Area
• 33 states were represented in the entries; images selected came from 15 states; the greatest distance from Washington was Kodiak, Alaska
• awards announced on Saturday are a $500 Juror’s Award presented by Sam Abell and a $250 Gallery Award presented by MEG President, Eric Johnson

Hedieh Javanshir Ilchi at Hemphill

HEMPHILL will host the exhibition, HEDIEH JAVANSHIR ILCHI: Everything became nearness and all the nearness turned to stone, opening on Friday, November 11, with a reception from 6-8pm. The exhibition will remain on view through December 23, 2016.

It’s as if I’m pushing through massive mountains
through hard veins, like solitary ore;
and I’m so deep that I can see no end
and no distance: everything became nearness
and all the nearness turned to stone.

I’m still a novice in the realm of pain,---
so this enormous darkness makes me small;
But if it’s You--- steel yourself, break in:
that your whole hand will grip me
and my whole scream will seize you.

-Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours, 1905

The esoteric connotations of Rilke’s poem encapsulate the inherent mysticism found in the work of Hedieh Javanshir Ilchi. Both Rilke’s poetry and Ilchi’s imagery have the power to incite the alchemy of the mind. He implements each word with the fullest intention, however small. Like Rilke’s words, Ilchi’s brush strokes are surgically applied, exquisite in execution and commanding in form. Her Iranian roots inform these patterns, called Tazhib, or the art of illumination, used to adorn the margins of historical books. They reference a culture long-oppressed by internal and external forces and also nurturing of deeply beautiful traditions. These patterns, born of tradition, exist amidst the lyrical chaos of poured paint, which she projects across the surface without control. This kind of “action painting” is distinctly Western, and lays the foundation for each composition. Once the paint dries, a topography forms, at once familiar and strange. It beckons Ilchi to search for herself in the peaks and valleys of paint. This binary sense of identity propels her to articulate a vision that reconciles all the things that define her. She can be everything and nothing at all; nearness and stone.

Hedieh Javanshir Ilchi was born in 1981 in Tehran, Iran and is currently living and working in the Washington DC area. Ilchi received a BFA with honors from the Corcoran College of Art + Design in 2006 and an MFA in Studio Art from the American University in 2011. She is currently an artist in residence at Arlington Arts Center, Arlington VA and has recently been awarded residencies at the Vermont Studio Center, The Jentel Foundation, and the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts. She has exhibited in New York, Switzerland, Washington DC and Winston-Salem, NC and her work is included in several private and public collections. Everything became nearness and all the nearness turned to stone is Hedieh Javanshir Ilchi’s debut exhibition at Hemphill Fine Arts.

HEMPHILL was founded in Washington DC in 1993. The exhibition schedule features modern & contemporary art in all media by artists ranging from emerging to mid-career to modern masters.


GALLERY HOURS: Tuesday–Saturday, 10:00am–5:00pm, and by appointment.
For More Information Contact:
Caitlin Berry
HEMPHILL Fine Arts
1515 14th Street NW
Washington, DC 20005
202.234.5601
caitlin@hemphillfinearts.com
www.hemphillfinearts.com

Artsy Broke Down ArtReview’s Power 100 by Race, Gender, Profession, and Place of Birth

The 15th edition of the ArtReview Power 100 was published today, listing the contemporary art world's most influential figures—at least according to the publication’s panel of 20 international judges. Year after year, the list features the curators, collectors, dealers, artists, and even a lonely philosopher providing the mix of the money, institutional support, and ideas that drive the global art world.

Details here. 

Opportunitiy for Artists

Deadline: November 30, 2016.

Indiana University East is now accepting 2-D, 3-D, and video work for consideration for this year's national juried exhibition themed "Histories and Memories." Their juror this year is Joshua Hagler (www.joshuahagler.com). 1st Place: $1000. 2nd Place: $500. 3rd Place: $250. Two Honorable Mention Awards: $150.

Details:  http://www.iue.edu/gallery/documents/IUE-3rd-National-Juried-Exhibition_Histories-and-Memories.pdf

Art Scam Alert

Beware of this scammer trying to rip off artists:

From: Nicole Hicks
Date: October 19, 2016 at 3:56:25 AM EDT

Subject: Artwork

Hello,

My name is James Hicks from Charlotte NC. I was looking for some artwork online and i found your contact while searching. Will like to purchase some of your work for my wife as a surprise gift for our 20th anniversary.Please kindly send pics and prices of some of your art which are ready for immediate sale within price range $300- $1,200, i could be flexible with price. So i will hope to hear a lot more about any available piece in your inventory ready for immediate sale.

Thanks and best regards,

James Hicks.

The way some states are run...

Perhaps the single most time-consuming and frustrating part of doing art fairs is the registration, collection, filing and payment of sales tax.


Not all states, mind you! Both Florida and Illinois make it super easy: fill out a paper form and mail it in with your check for collected taxes.


Texas makes you register to get a certificate, then you must file online (not too easy, but waaay better than the next example)... then you either pay with a credit card or an electronic check.


New York state is a nightmare. I have never, ever been able to file online without calling their help desk... enough said.