Russell Christian and The Bruxist Collective

Steve Greene in The Paris Review, Uline Catalogs and Global Industrial

2014-09-11T19:09:00.000-07:00

Steve Greene in The Paris Review (and Uline catalogs).

Recently have been making small watercolors in two old science books that I found by the side of the road last summer. What is lovely is how each small painting in the book self titles. One only has to pick words out from the still readable text: "Absolute Alcohol" is one from the other day. I've found myself talking to, or in discussion with a few folks who paint on found pages, or who play with found text in their art work in some way. One old friend who has done this to great effect for many years is Steve Greene. The article in the Paris Review is short and sweet and should be read especially if you love catalogs full of industrial toys and curious, obscure hardware.

A Buzzing In My Ears Steve Greene 2013

Getting a Head in these Troubled Times

2014-09-01T11:53:00.000-07:00

Plan is to send these small watercolors of heads to friends without any explanation—one way of writing to them in an old fashioned way.

More notes from the Bruxist Collective

2014-08-01T10:10:00.000-07:00

Home Ec (drawing of a strong woman)

2014-04-18T07:08:00.001-07:00

These drawings happen on trains, sitting at desks monitoring math classes I am subbing for (I am no mathematician), killing time at the dentist. They are approximately 6" x 8". I like building drawings that appear monumental and iconic despite their small size.

Escape Artist

2014-01-15T19:05:00.001-08:00

Series of Sketchbook drawings

2014-01-15T19:03:00.001-08:00

Tiny Sketchbook Drawing 10.25.13

2013-10-25T07:12:00.001-07:00

The Piano

2013-09-18T05:54:00.000-07:00

Had one week to paint one of six old pianos that would be placed in public spots throughout South Orange as part of Playing Around Town. All pianos would be left out for six weeks and, depending on weather, would be covered by blue tarps at night. Huge thanks to South Orange Performing Arts Center for initiating this public good! Give me a surface to paint—in my own way—

and I am very happy to do so. This was fun.

Art's Flight at Pierro Gallery of South Orange, June 20, 2013

2013-07-10T08:46:00.002-07:00

Photos courtesy of Micha Hamilton

PHOTOS: Micha Hamilton Photography

2nd Monologue for FLIGHT
June 20th, Pierro Gallery of South Orange, 2013

I am Art. First name terms. No need for formality here.

Comedian? Poet? Person of interest? Ambivalent? Yes. Confused? Emphatically. No question. Clear as day. No doubt about it. Are you with me? Why? Why are you with me? Trying to follow my thinking? Your time your dime.

I’m rude. My time is never well spent. I resist Blue Chip. I’m wary of the high minded, resist sincerity on some level. That whole thing of just being here, surviving—getting the work, getting the work done, cutting the lawn, Costcos...shop, clean, oil change. Change. We all have to embrace it in the end.

Food. Shelter. Toys. Electronic toys. Organic. Going green. Being green. Exploding imploding. Steam valve and kettles. Tea.

The energy to resist the hinderers, encourage the bright. Dreams essential. Optimists THAT crucial. There in the Constitution. The pursuit of happiness. Apparently a special people. More special than others. Do you think you are special? I mean I hope you do. That is healthy...right? But not more special. Not superior. The living for each day/worrying about the future thing. Dealing with matters of immediate import, grass root issues, community stuff, civic sphere and such. Community stiffs. Forums, hearings, meetings. Hearing the world laughing and screaming in every corner of every square.

Paying the bills not paying the bills. Staying safe and secure. Clutching an umbrella every time you step out of the door —just in case.
Prepared for every eventuality, wrapped in bubble, ready with the duct tape, un-scratchable.

Or go naked and vulnerable, and open and calm, palms out, receptive.
The gear can help, the right equipment—maybe first aid kit is not over the top, maybe justified, maybe some gorp, pocket warmers, tent. Sleep is worth protecting encouraging aiding and abetting with a pad a bag...gaz cooker boots. Motor generator propeller wheels and gears, night vision goggles.

Collect feathers basic technology pencil fork and knife. With this and that sow, knit, hammer, cobble together a way forward into adventure and the unknown with all the trials and tribulation and fun and weather fronts and storms and mystery. Journey walk through the rain and fog.

So we put on our wings. That is the thing about independence, being able to get up and stare into the center of the sun and go. Not dependent on airlines and schedules and trains with age-ing rails. A bit of running away from but mostly a going forth, running toward brinks and cliffs and into valleys and oceans, old stations and warehouses and factories. Sand farms with all those fascinating rusting machines. Hard to pin down that thing I’m running towards. Convinced getting there will be great but crucial I do not stop, you do not stop, we do not stop. By all means dilly dally, poke in the bushes with a stick, find bits of colored glass—for a bit. Curiosity is okay, alright, just dandy in my book.

Meditate, find your inner chi do a mantra then get up again and keep moving. By all means relax and gather strength. Stop to pick an apple, dig for truffles.

I’ve been planning this for so long but despite this it feels out of control and beyond my ken, my area of expertise but who wants experts here? Instructions blurring my vision, serailing my intent. Dot the “I”s cross the “T”s—done the formwork, the signatures, local auditor content, magistrate’s signed off. Notary public smiled and offered me a lollipop.

The insurmountable still not surmounted, kitchen cleaned, fence mended except for the latch. Been planning this trip for a while, a trip we might all enjoy. Some prefer water some land. All can come. If you have special needs just let us know.

Some’ll go by balloon or kite, some’ll go by camel. Surf or skateboard, motorbike. The dignity of walking, the cool lope, the meandering slide. The getting there faster not the point, the getting there at all...not necessarily the point. Not not the point but not the point if you get me. The thing of stopping is problematic. You don’t want to grind to a halt...not before you are ready. Slowly and thoughtfully but overthinking, fear, resistance??? The mania of civilization speeding willy nilly not forward or back but every which way?

Where there is. The there is elusive.

Different name for each of us, different feel, texture, different dimensions, big to some, small to others and go we must. I’m looking forward to it, pretty excited. I’ve oiled the engine, P and B sandwiches packed. Keep notes. You did keep notes? I’ve tightened bolts and screws, gone down my list and I’m going to go. Its not dramatic. Nothing dramatic. Pretty straightforward really. Matter of fact, mundane almost. Tiny in the big scope of things. Not unusual, not that rare, not unique. No. Unique. Different for each of us right.

Maybe see you there.

Wallpaper designs?

2013-07-07T13:10:00.002-07:00

I like the idea of creating wallpapers from my paintings, have no problem with that. Now one can do so by uploading designs to websites that offer custom wallpapers at approx $60 for a 2' x 12' roll.

White Rabbit

2013-07-04T07:53:00.000-07:00

Can you find the White Rabbit? Did this painting 2010 (mixed media on masonite). Very fond of it but only recently getting down to better recording and sharing my artworks. One day, if I can find a gallery to represent my work, the quality of the photographs will improve but for now my own amateurish efforts will have to do.

Using old table tops, drawing boards and bread boards I could panel a room!

2013-07-02T11:38:00.000-07:00

The Numchuk Dance (with thanks to Catherine Stratton of 9 Beach Films).

2013-06-18T11:07:00.003-07:00

With thanks to Catherine Stratton of 9 Beach Films
Shot in the Pierro Gallery, South Orange, 2012. Currently on view during current exhibition— SOMA: Engaging Art, The Pierro Gallery, South Orange, NJ.

Art O'Connor and Mr. Bullrider (AKA The Bouncy Banker)

2013-06-18T04:55:00.001-07:00

For a while now I have slowly been building a web comic and above is the latest strip. Art O'Connor, struggling homeowner, and Mr. Bullrider, the local bank manager, are locked in a perpetual dance of mutual need, resentment and misunderstanding. For more go to Art and The Bouncy Banker, or my website

Art with iPad

2013-06-11T08:41:00.000-07:00

The ongoing narrative of the elusive Art and his Bruxist Collective can be found at: http://theworldindisarray.blogspot.com/

Blue Grin and Mine

2013-06-06T15:55:00.000-07:00

Uploading images of my artwork is all well and good but doing so without writing about why is not great in Blogland. So here, in efforts to redress the imbalance of my image heavy blog (which people don't really find) I'll try to write something insightful and intelligent. I was asked this weekend at a one day local artists' studio tour what my rows of objects/figures/things/crystals/engine parts/plant matter etc. meant. my useful, elusive answer was this: it is more about negative and positive space. What ends up on the page, in the painting, is more or less an accident dictated by a gut feeling that requires balance. So it all comes down to not feeling queasy, not throwing up.

The City

2013-05-24T08:17:00.002-07:00

My contribution to SOMA: Engaging Art, collaborative art projects, performance and installation

2013-05-20T11:05:00.000-07:00

Poster for Machine Things Art Show at Guten Parts

2013-05-08T08:21:00.000-07:00

Russell Christian—South Orange / Maplewood, NJ Artists Studio Tour, 1st ...

2013-05-06T19:16:00.001-07:00

Flight (After Klein)

2013-04-02T17:39:00.000-07:00

Sharpie and cardboard (social media)

2013-02-28T08:51:00.003-08:00

One day this will all make sense. I love doodling on cheap, despised mediums, and I love making these marks that refuse to settle into full clarity—jug, hat, wood, cage, shed, grub...

Cage, Duchamp and the Sounds of Silence

2013-02-02T05:45:00.000-08:00

Sounds Like Silence - Hartware Medien KunstVerein (HMKV), Dortmund art-in.de art-in.de/incmeldung.php… via @artinberlin
— art in berlin (@artinberlin) February 2, 2013

Art's Memories—Kenneth Patchens in Frank's Bookshelf,

2012-12-31T14:50:00.001-08:00

I'll always remember my first encounter with the work of Kenneth Patchen, the great American poet. My friend, Frank B, had a box set by New Directions, of his picture poems, in his bookshelf, across from the studio where we all were striving to create, as a motley community of artists and musicians, a complete, unified (by which I mean not totally fractured) theater piece, over a period of 2 hectic months. In his picture he'd struck a rare expressive vein wherein word and picture were organically (and passionately) mushed together to create a unique, very personal vision. Later I understood that most of his picture poems were done as he endured a terrible back pain that afflicted him for the rest of his life. The picture of Patchen shows him backstage at the Living Theater, where he was performing with Charles Mingus, reading his poems to Jazz circa 1957. For this reason he was often described as a Beat Poet, a label he resisted.

Kenneth Patchen Picture Poem

Roger Hilton Night Letter

Roger Hilton

Roger Hilton Night Letter

Allen Ginsberg with Kenneth Patchen

I conflate his work at times with the night letters of Roger Hilton, drawings also created against a backdrop of pain and also a deep resistance to going gently into that dark night. Created in his last two years in Cornwall, England, where he lived virtually bedridden, sustaining himself on cigarettes and whiskey to Patchen's work was underscored by a deep anger but vast hope for humanity. these gouaches were characterized by a bitterness leavened only by the power and fury of the work. Again words (usually grocery lists, or a list of demands, or cruel jokes laid on his poor, devoted, and long suffering second wife, Rose) are seductively, powerfully merged with imagery and incisive mark making.

Art's Memories—The Elephant Celebes by Max Ernst

2012-12-28T06:08:00.000-08:00

The Elephant Celebes may be the painting, from the Surrealist era, that has had the most impact on me. I still remember coming face to face with it for the first time on one of my early visits (I was still in school) to the old Tate Gallery (now called Tate Britain), when it still housed their contemporary art collection. The meaning of it was completely obscure to me but the impact was irrefutable. The fact that I could not pretend to understand this painting but still could be so viscerally impressed astounded me. Though Art is about connecting it is not required to lay everything out for the viewer like a thesis. The art, poetry, music that continues to inspire me rarely has an obvious meaning, or where it does there are certainly layers that remain opaque and compelling, like Shrek's Onion—I've capitalized "Onion" to make it sound like a strange law of physics. I do not want to totally get something. Once I do the mystery evaporates and I need not return. Also think the recent run of incredible serialized dramas on TV channels like HBO that are layered with such complexity and nuance that they reward revisiting and in some instances stand as contemporary novels for our time. In Max Ernst's painting this lumpen form confronts you silently and you are left to wonder for eternity whether it is hollow inside, perhaps half full of ashes, or hot and alive and ready to take off and energize—or destroy—the planet.