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JB Bryan Explores Nature from Inside Out Jessica Adams When the term “landscape painting” is mentioned, it tends to evoke images of mountains and open fields with an occasional country road cutting through the scenery. But it’s not often an artist works the landscape from the inside out. JB Bryan’s latest exhibit at Artspace 116, "Dirt and Photosynthesis," depicts an observation of plant life as if the viewer were a bug crawling around the entanglement of spiraling vines and blossoms. Colors and shapes are layered haphazardly, overlapping in such a way that the eyes are pulled into the inner elements of the painting. Flower and plant life are not distinguishable, but rather deconstructed, incorporating all of the senses. Bryan is a bit of a renaissance man, working also as a published poet, ceramist, publisher and graphic designer. In his artist statement, he says his paintings neither “depict a theme nor a view, but are more spontaneous and gestural. They incorporate both observation and improvisation. They are not realistic nor abstract and seek to evoke nature without trying to describe.” Also a seasoned gardener, Bryan related that much of the inspiration for his work comes from his garden in the Village of Placitas. “As a (gardener), I have hands-on experience with moving and customizing my own life via gardening; that imprints on my consciousness and imagination,” he said. Bryan also said he draws a good amount of inspiration from the Modernism that honors Matisse and Cezanne. This is apparent in the Impressionistic layering that is found in many of his oil paintings. Chinese and Japanese ink paintings have been another source of inspiration for Bryan. Also on exhibit at Artspace 116 from Oct. 19 through Nov. 30 is a series of Bryan’s ink paintings on paper, which simultaneously compliment the botanical elements in his larger oil paintings. He explained that oil paintings require “continual adjustments and a working of surface nuances. Ink and watercolor allow no opportunity to make correction. Once a gesture starts, that’s what you get.” The artist’s paintings emerge through improvisational brushstrokes — each inspiring the next unpredictable motion. Bryan’s experiences as a poet also play a large part in the process of his paintings. He says, “Words aren’t necessarily what transfer over, but (rather a) poetic sensibility. The process of writing a poem is trying to articulate what you see and experience.” Bryan has lived in New Mexico for over 30 years and works from his studio in Placitas. He is also the owner of La Alameda Press, which publishes the work of many New Mexican authors as well as other writers from around the country. Hummingbirds Fly Continent to Continent Our Honey Nectar on Their Tongues
Artist's Statement Alive in a World of “Nature is not on the surface, it is in the depths. Colours are an expression “I paint in order to decondition myself.” “The pattern for a tune will be forgotten and the tune itself will be the pattern.”
i don’t paint things. what happens is a reflection of how forces in phenomenon find form. material as obvious as process. as seeds activated by moisture begin to grow. each takes its inherent form, however must, to find light or withstand the elements. form starts then adds or reduces. any ground contains a community, myriad interactions unplanned but necessary to shape. the accumulative of successive orbits, of snow & rain, of bloom & decay. no one can paint this. one can only work within how what happens. each to the next. we need new mythos. narrative other than market and gadgets. the painted caves of paleo-tribes indicate an imagination attuned to animals, a world alive, an undeniable connection—to, & with, unseparated perception, to imagination, to the surface itself, deep stone, from which images are shaped upon or into. “the human universe,” as wrote poet Charles Olson, the fundament, what is essential to being animal, entangled awareness, permeated existence, habitat, the senses. a present history invented as one lives, myth invented as life itself. i yearn to look at the world & see hidden uses of every plant. to be native enough to know the world as sustenance & utility. ingenious enough to discover or make use. smart enough to take concern for each gathered aspect. meanwhile chlorophyll continues to work. the strange intelligence of direct conversion from the sun. for our brain, electrical with vegetable energy, we eat or die. over a million years, we have learned how to cook. people gather & celebrate a history of tasting everything. tea from spearmint acts as tonic. acorn stew. corn, squash, & beans. some of us grow stuff. somebody discovered wine & we’re happy for it. no one can paint this, yet a painting might evoke, to act & invent from such. paint now not different than paint then. stone & liquid. pigment & oil. first paints were iron oxide, ochre, & manganese. somebody mixed this with animal fat, & we’ve been using some version ever since. we still use the same brush. paint as magical goop, a vehicle for the imagination to connect with the world. brush & pigment enable the conduit of meaning. the tweep tweep tweep of the blue winged bird. paw marks in red soil, aroma of juniper, tang of chewed leaf. Cezanne realized what he was really part of & that he barely had the means. that he was a primitive, that others would have to continue an articulation. how do we as artists engage our sensations? walk up the mountain & back to the studio, now what? to make out of this? again, Olson: that if the artist is contained within one’s own nature as one is a participant in the larger force, then one will be able to listen, and that such hearing will give one secrets that objects share. “& by inverse law the shapes will make their own way. it is in this sense that the projective act, which is the artist’s act in the larger field of objects, leads to dimensions larger than the artist.” scenery is what you look at in a car at eighty miles an hour. to work in an actual place causes one to sense the land itself. what the world tells me can’t be explained in words. feelings not emotions. what i hear ends up as marks—dots, lines, scratches, smears, swipes. Mms, Vvs, darts, chevrons, zig-zags, meanders, coils, & spirals. interlocking snake blossoms, twisted buffalo gourds, curves of pollen cloud. “oak, juniper, cottonwood, apricot, & wild cherry.” archaic ideograms of mountain. color out of mud & light. the original use of “post-modern” was to pay attention to our basic sensations. i don’t paint things. how i work involves a start, then improvising. i allow the picture to spark back. i vow to stay open to accidents, mistakes, the unforeseen. this utilizes branching of forms, a touch, an overlay, a fallen drop. results of a day’s work seen the next day, then delight or adjustment. some mystery fits into place. that the ground itself is important. that negative space & positive space balance their own assertion. i am more & more involved with how forms both emerge out of & are part of the ground simultaneously— “from” & “in” at the same time. resolution by unknown factors isn’t easy. design finds a seemingly occult entity outside of preconception. perseverance & acceptance as important as fingers & wrist. the issue is not fragments & wholeness, but a woven entity. accumulative unto its own surprise. a field open to possibility & asymmetrical equilibrium. composition & decomposition, continual nuance. indeed, energies contained in a realm of song, counterpoint, so to occur all at once. completely. idiosyncratic proof of itself, authentic outside of my own connivance. what we mean by “dig!” yes, & no apologies, i do hope my work swings into beauty.
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