Be Somewhere

Master of Fine Arts Final Project Documentation August 2015-May 2017 Graduate Committee Daniel Evans Carol Ann Sogard Brent Schneider Department of ART & ART HISTORY College of Fine Arts | THE UNIVERSITY OF UTAH Acknowledgments When the School of Dance welcomed School of Dance Participants me into their studios and performances, Noriko Bell, Shaniece Brazwell, it quickly became apparent that there Marty Buhler, Micah Burkhardt, was an opportunity to explore the Nicholas Daulton, Nick Gibas, incredibly expressive movements they Christine Glidden, Mya Guin, performed. Their manipulation of their Emily Jackson, Elyse Jost, bodies through three-dimensional Allie Kamppinen, Leah Karas-Gultstrand, space combined with the powerful Angela Lee, Rachel Luebbert, live music to inspire a permanent two- Erica Maclean, Gloria Morin, dimensional mark. In turn, the drawings Kenny Nakashima, Lydia Pohly, began to influence the dancers as Celeste Reed, Clytie Robinette, well, offering them insight into their Rick Santizo, Gaby Zabka practiced movements and encouraging new adaptations and explorations. My sincere thanks go to them for their School of Dance Instructors encouragement and willingness to Daniel Clifton, Pamela Handman, participate in this experiment with me. Eric Handman, Satu Hummasti, The effects of our collaboration extend Stephen Koester, & Brent Schneider far beyond the artwork created. The smaller works presented here are documents of those moments in the presence of the dancers and musicians. Each brush stroke was inspired by their School of Dance Musicians Wayne Coons, Tristan Moore, & Michael Wall movement and sounds created by the live musicians. Photographers The collaborative 9x32ft mural was Daniel Evans, Alex Moya, & Amelia Walchli created by myself and the dancers themselves, as they took on the role of visual artist to translate the dance of My special thanks as well to the their fellow students into permanent administrative staff of the Department of marks. Art & Art History and the School of Dance for their help in facilitating this endeavor. RENEWAL The burden of proof is a difficult task at best. When we attempt to define opinions with exactness, including (and perhaps especially) about ourselves, we confront numerous challenges in both defining the process and in determining our conclusions. The arguments that form the basis for these challenges come from a variety of outer and inner sources that ought to be carefully sifted and analyzed. Determining their relevance - and ultimately their veracity - becomes part of the inner-dialog they necessitate. This process is essential to a refinement of our basic goals and core values. For instance, my decision to return to academia was not as much an attempt at defining the ever evolving state of art as much as it was a desire to further define what it means to be artist for myself. The scrutiny of that process from both outward and inward voices was much more than I had anticipated. What I knew at the time was that I wanted to more fully understand art and my role in its propagation; that there was a conversation happening that I felt I should, even needed, to be a part of. There was a dialogue missing from my work that somehow felt essential to my progress as an artist, an illustrator, and a person. In illustration, communicating a specific concept to an audience is paramount. No matter how clever I might think my ideas are, or how aesthetically pleasing they may be, the ever-present challenge is to properly translate the message of my work into a legible visual language. That narrative component of illustration is the foundation 1 for my perspective on art, regardless of the method used to create it. This results in both an advantage and disadvantage in my effort to expand the scope of my work and, consequently, my effort to define illustration and myself as an illustrator. To do so required facing the challenge of generating new creative habits, altering practiced techniques, and then simultaneously attempting to use them to describe a subject matter in which I had very little experience. What I knew when I began my exploration was that I wanted to find a deeper connection and meaning in the messages I was creating in my drawings. Where that would eventually take me was a complete surprise. I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of creating motion within my work. Simple dynamics in composition or figure have failed to truly capture, from my perspective, the sense of fluidity that can be found so readily in other media, such as film and animation. It seems odd to be so concerned about instilling motion into static images when there are so many direct ways to include it by simply making the image actually move. Nonetheless, motion seemed to be a missing component in my work and the conceptual value it would present seemed to be consistently out of my reach. It was in this mindset that I was given the serendipitous opportunity to collaborate with a form of art that extends beyond language, as well as beyond my comfort zone, Dance. This connection was made possible through an introduction by University of Utah faculty member Brian Snapp, to School of Dance faculty member Brent Schneider. Snapp and I had spent the semester exploring multiple concepts for three-dimensional structures. (Fig. 1) My thoughts at the time were focused on the idea of confinement and how we often box others, and ourselves, into ideas or titles that limit our potential. In addition to the sculptural aspect of my work with Snapp, these concepts manifested themselves in drawings created with the mentoring of Allison Denyer. Wanting to explore more potential in graphite, I created four drawings, titled “Before the Fall,” (Fig. 2) which depicted figures confined into fundamental shapes. As I reviewed these ideas with Snapp, we discussed the idea of adding multiple figures to the compositions that would be forced to navigate around each other in a given space. Quite literally, as we were discussing this thought, Schneider walked down the hall. Snapp invited him in and he eagerly entered into the conversation and thought process. It was then that he offered to introduce me to an environment that would shape the direction of my artwork throughout the remainder of my graduate studies. PROCESS When the School of Dance welcomed me into their studios and performances, it quickly became apparent that there was an opportunity to explore, in my own unique way, the incredibly expressive movements they performed. Not only did they provide 2 Fig. 1. Sculptural explorations, wood, found cardboard boxes, 2016 3 Fig. 2. “Before the Fall”, graphite, 2016 4 space for me to work, they also created a safe space for me to experiment in my work as they were experimenting in theirs. As I watched the dancers move, I knew that simply drawing them figuratively would be insufficient to create a unique concept or to capture my own aesthetic interest. There was also the matter of how to include the visceral energy in the studio created by the combination of the music and physicality of the performers. I needed to reach beyond my illustrative training and into a more expressive way of working. I began to allow myself more freedom in the technique of my drawing, including the scale of my work and the variety of my tools. The method was familiar enough to allow me to access the concept of interpreting the dance, while simultaneously challenging my sense of representation. Initially, the drawings began as simple responses to the movement of dance and the incorporation of the live music. However, they eventually grew into a shared dialogue. Through the opposing forms of creation, we offered each other inspiration and insight beyond what our fields of study could do individually. Dance, with its ethereal movement through threedimensional space became the catalyst for the permanent two-dimensional mark. In turn, the drawings began to influence the dancers as well, offering them insight into their practiced movements and encouraging new adaptations and explorations. This collaborative effort created a haven for vulnerability, expression, and experimentation that was a necessary component for me to develop new abilities as a more nuanced comprehension of my illustrative work evolved. These results would feed into each of the collaborator’s creations, developing into a feedback loop of stimuli and response, success and failure, thought and thesis. The first thing that struck me about the dancers was their ability to connect one phrase of movement so seamlessly into the next. Their fluid motion, even when broken into staccato steps or sprawling ground movement, was controlled and deliberate. When the focus was on personal expression or allowing the body to move freely, there was an awareness of the space they inhabited that enabled them a degree of control. I wanted to find a way to not only represent that, but to emulate it with my own movement. So much of drawing is a matter of making one small mark after another, building it up slowly. While the result may appear to be one continuous line, a skilled artist can create it with much smaller movements. My hope was to push myself away from that deception and remove any hidden marks. Like the dancers, my strokes were to be immediate, honest, and direct. There would be no deceiving the eye, rather the motion, along with any mistakes would be laid bare. The images I was making would become documents recording the dance, as well as the moment, with as much authenticity as I could honestly create. Initially, I used one brush, dipped in black ink, to create multiple continuous strokes. Each stroke represented one movement through space. After employing this method multiple times, I began to feel something was missing. The strokes were indicative 5 Fig. 3. Early experiment (left), Two brush method (right), ink, 2016 6 of broad movement, but I was still only clumsily replicating the dance. There was no representation of any understanding of the subtlety or depth in what I was viewing. This changed through one of those “accidents” artists often cite that lead to a rerouting of our pathway. During one visit to the dancers’ studio, I happened to have brought along additional brushes of various sizes. The dancers were warming up with slow and thoughtful floor-work. They laid heavy on the ground and allowed the rhythmic beating of the musician’s ambient drums to guide their bodies into motion. It was an element of their practice I hadn’t spent much time with before. Now, I look on this moment as essential to a creation of the aforementioned “safe space.” Previously, I think my inclination was to shy away from this aspect of their performance, thinking it too intimate of an experience. It was as though I was still the outsider, peering into their world. I had yet to reach the point in my own work where I felt that I was contributing to the experience and my presence. Although welcomed, I was carrying with me a form of guilt akin to a tourist watching a local custom. I enjoyed the experience, but felt that perhaps I was a voyeur rather than an active participant. Some of that feeling began to leave that day as I found a new depth to my visual recordings of their actions. One of the tools I had gathered that morning was a small, .25” brush. I dipped it in the ink and then passed it over a paper-towel, removing the bulk of the ink and leaving the brush nearly dry. I then emulated the subtle motions of the dancers on the floor, slowly and lightly, across the bottom of my paper. It was as though I was softly waking my mind, my body, and the paper from its rest, just as the dancers were awakening their bodies and minds on the floor. Instantly, the symbiotic nature of the works began to take form. Rather than simply try to interpret the movement I saw with one brush (Fig. 3); I was now able to apply both a physical and emotional reaction to the mark making and reflect the scale of the dance with the tools as well. Small, barely perceptible, movements and feeling could be captured with small brushes, larger brushes could then indicate larger, more dominant phrases. This method may seem too simple. Perhaps a painter, with their diverse brushes and techniques, would have understood this much more quickly. However, my work has been predominantly focused on the use of line created with one tool. That line may have taken on different widths, but even that was a result determined by the type of tool; one pencil, pen, or digital stylus. Now, rather than encapsulate an area with a line, I allowed the calligraphic strokes to be the form themselves. The variety of texture created by the drybrush technique added depth and volume, while simultaneously maintaining the fluidity of the stroke. Additionally, the immediacy of the gesture facilitates a transparency in the finished product. The artist’s hand is present in the conversation, leaving no doubt in the viewer of their involvement with the subject of the work. That presence allows the work to become not only an interpretation of the moment, an act of reportage, but also a permanent impression of the dialogue created between the artist and dancers. As 7 viewers observe the work, my hope is that they would seek to discover the movement within it and become of a part of the dialogue happening. I wanted them to see anew the collaboration by adding their own interpretation. My intention had been to redefine for myself the definition and application of illustration practice and so, this moment became personally groundbreaking. The visual language that was developing out of it felt familiar, yet still foreign in a way. At times, I found myself stumbling through and trying to make sense of it. Although I’ve drawn for years, my method has been one of using the line as an outline; creating defined shapes that would interact to form the greater whole. This work was, and still is, providing an opportunity to change that and reach for a more provocative form with which to communicate my interpretation of movement in an open and expressive way. Also, important to the process of the work and the strong presence of the artist’s hand, is the choice of tools involved. My intention was to evolve my illustrative work and my own artistic aesthetic, not to focus solely on a reinvention of my identity. I have long loved the process of drawing. The simple pleasure of marking a page with ink or pencil is familiar and satisfying. As such, when I approached the idea of working collaboratively with the dancers, I chose to stay with those familiar tools rather than add to the task of documentation a separate exercise of learning how to use a different tool-set. My initial thinking was that larger substrates and utensils would be enough of a departure and challenge to cause me to think differently about what I was doing. This proved to be true, but it also paved the way for an evolution of the technique I employed. Having worked for many years with pens or pencils, I had become accustomed to the continuity of the lines they create. Brushes, however, are more unpredictable. While more direct control did come with practice, I found the variety in the marks to actually be desirable as it pushed me to become more responsive to both the dancers and the mark making. There was not time to make corrections, I was pushed to adapt quickly to what was on the paper. The brushes and I eventually reached a compromise. I would allow for the incongruous textures they presented, but they would allow me to direct their path. Applying this new practice created the foundation on which to build parameters for the ongoing visual response and documentation of the overall experience. The first goal is to paint the impression of the dance, but not the expression of dancers themselves. Rather than focus singularly on the body itself, or the form of the person, my aim is to capture the energy of the movements of the performers in combination with the atmosphere of the room, which is further developed by the music as well as the mood of those involved. The desired effect in the viewer is transportation into the moment of that creation, where there is less concern about the formal qualities (although they are present and essential) and more of an entrance into the presence of the moment in which the work was created. 8 A session’s work, drying during the dancer’s practice. 9 ASPIRATION As this method progressed, I was encouraged by the work of the artist William de Kooning, who’s aggressive gestural application of paint forces viewers to consider the painter in the work, in addition to the subject. One cannot view his work without thinking of the process. Similarly, my own work represents a record of an experience in a specific time; and through the medium and method, the viewer finds themselves engaged in the moment being portrayed by the marks. The gestural work is then exhibited as a collection, using light and sound to create a deliberate event in the mind of the audience. Also of importance is the viewer’s moment of transportation to the specific moment of interaction between myself and the dancers, which is enhanced by providing them with an opportunity to fill in the lack of narrative representation in the drawings. In my effort to create this inner dialogue, exhibition attendees hear sounds from the dancer’s studio recorded during the process of creating the artwork. They also hear dialogue between myself, the dancers, and their instructor, in which we discuss the impact of the artist’s presence in their performance space. By providing the audience with only my marks and the sounds of the room, I create an empty space in the work that the mind will automatically seek to fill in. Additionally, it allows me to more fully communicate the understanding that these are not directly dancers, but instead my impression of them and a documentation of their art form. In so doing, I’m inviting the audience to recreate the moment in their minds to gain new insight into the process of visualization and participate in a form of inner theater. The illustrative quality of the work is formed by the gestural marks themselves, yet interpreted and re-framed by the viewer. They then each create an illustration unique to themselves based on shared information. To this point, Maxine Greene, author of “Releasing the Imagination: Essays on Education, the Arts, and Social Change”, writes: “Speaking of passions, engagements, and imagining can become a way of speaking of an expanded community that takes shape when diverse people, speaking as who and not what they are, come together in both speech and action to constitute something in common among themselves. ‘Plurality’ is ‘the condition of human action because we are all the same, that is, human, in such a way that nobody is ever the same as anyone else who ever lived, lives, or will live.’ Even though we are on common ground, we have different locations on that ground, and each one ‘sees or hears from a different position’ (Arendt, 1958, p.57). Any object -- a classroom, a neighborhood 10 street, a field of flowers -- shows itself differently to each spectator. The reality of that object arises out of the sum total of its appearances to all who view it. Thinking of those spectators as participants in an ongoing dialogue, each one speaking out of a distinct perspective and yet open to those around, I find a kind of paradigm for what I have in mind.” 1 This interplay between the artist, the subject matter, and the spectator is part of my ongoing struggle with the definition of illustration and of my role as an illustrator. To approach the concept of image making, with the goal that all viewers will see the same concept, is not foreign to artists, but it is certainly limiting in the methods we employ. More specifically, as post-modernism has taken hold on our image-saturated culture, we see a strong rift between the more narrative work often labeled as “illustrative” and the contemporary conceptual art that can be read in so many ways that the true intent is often lost. For several decades now we have grown increasingly accustomed to art that would appear to made solely for “art’s sake,” only to discover later in the reading of an artist’s statement that more specific messaging is being presented. To further complicate matters, many artists rely on that fluidity of definition to avoid a specific reading and situate themselves comfortably in ambiguity. This dichotomy is one which presents conflicts and contention as critics and artists alike battle over the nature of the “emperor’s new clothes”, debating openly the beauty of the nothingness before them. Perhaps it is for this reason that I’ve found much greater direction in my work by stepping away from that discussion in both the creation of my work and its criticism. The noise created in that environment can be deafening to the creative muses’ whisperings. To combat this, I wanted to directly involve the viewer in my work and encourage them to make their own narratives within it. My typical illustrative technique was often much more definitive, often creating a separation between the viewer and myself. The audience was given very little latitude in interpretation and thereby kept at a distance from analyzing the subject matter beyond the surface level. Additionally, my own markmaking was becoming more rehearsed as I discovered my own personal aesthetics taking a prominent role in the compositions. This predictability in many ways benefited my process because I was able to be less concerned about the interaction of the brush on the paper. On the other hand, that increasing comfort did, on occasion, lead me to lose a sense of awareness with the dancers. In these moments, I would pause and focus on gaining a greater sense of presence within the room, observing the dancers more carefully, listening to the music more intently, and analyzing my work with greater attention. This was a powerful lesson to me of the need for constant attention in the effort to interpret others. To assume that I understood the dancers, or the method, completely at any given moment would cause the work to become fictional rather than interpretive. 11 During the creation of the large collaborative painting. Lower photo by Daniel Evans. 12 Through the guidance of Professor Beth Krensky, I was introduced to other artists’ attempts to breach this barrier and one in particular that had used his theatrical skills in an innovative approach. Augusto Boal, creator of The Theater of the Oppressed, described his efforts in a field he termed psychotherapeutic drama this way: “… when we get together many people looking at one point, they create a space which is different from the physical space. It’s more than a physical space. It is pentadimensional, not three dimensions. It has also memory and imagination. So, we create the theatricality.” 2 Boal’s method includes involving the audience in both the creation and presentation of their staged play. By engaging his audience directly, the barriers between the artist and the viewer begin to fade, opening the door for more accurate representation and dialogue. Rather than one giving and the other receiving, both are able to create in fluid verbal and non-verbal ways. His theatrical productions not only involved the viewer in their preparation, but also necessitated it. They were built on the ideas and interpretations of the audience to which they would be performed for and, at times, performed by. The theatre itself becomes transformed from a place of observation to a space for direct personal involvement. When I learned about this concept, I was immediately drawn to it, recognizing (in Boal’s perspective) a shared desire to create art that, though created by me, yet not focused solely on me. Instead, I sought, at minimum, a fuller representation of the influence of my subject, and at best, a demonstration of their unique being and the moment of their existence. The concept of more true representation of my subject is something that artists have experimented with in many ways. We know how to capture a physical likeness, but how do we identify and express the non-visible qualities of a given subject? That is where expression comes in as representation and impressionism displays its complicated inner self. As a result, I find myself exactly in-between the two, torn between self-expression and more fully serving my subject matter with an evolving accurate portrayal. To be honest, my efforts here are far from complete. I remain unsure as to whether this method will be an essential part of the ongoing process or simply a signpost along the way. Regardless of what form my work takes, whether drawing, writing, or even performance, the underlying current is one of deep connection and communication. It’s easy to be caught up in the momentary nature of personal or shared experiences. Often, I maneuver through my social interaction too quickly, missing out on the transformative knowledge and understanding that can be gained through more incisive explorations. Rather than address this directly, it becomes easier to label indepth analysis as unnecessary, as a distraction, or as “over-thinking.” This can manifest itself artistically for all of us, as we pursue the pleasure of creation so much more 13 naturally than its analysis. Consequently, we train ourselves to value the appearance of our interaction with others, our public persona, and ignore the signifiers of greater consequence in our conversations. If we fail to make use of these opportunities for further understanding, the richness of our environment, and specifically our interpersonal relationships, will be wasted. However, even when we seek out an education in the perspectives, thoughts, and lives of those around us, there is almost always something overlooked. Driven by this effort to find better solutions for this dilemma, the work presented here becomes not only a documentation of my experience with the School of Dance, but also a self-portrait of sorts. Viewed as a whole, it shows progress over the last year and half. Individually, they are snapshots of personal and artistic growth. While I can’t readily say I have found a method that suits my exploration perfectly, I have progressed further in shaping what that will be. That experience has helped me to identify new methods of work for myself that are built off of a greater sense of self-awareness. It has also opened my eyes to new ways of exploring methods of interaction with others. Moreover, I feel it will be especially valuable in my efforts to teach others artistic and illustrative methods because it has allowed me to more fully analyze the learning process. COLLABORATION This brings me finally to the largest, most collaborative piece in the exhibition, “February 10, 9:40-11:40”. While the majority of the work shows examples of my hand controlling the brush and responding to the dancers, this effort includes the direct work of the dancers. Since I had already spent so much time with this particular group, the majority were very familiar with my methods and had eagerly expressed an interest in being more involved. There were some students who weren’t as aware of my work, not having been in class with me before. While I did explain the process at the beginning of the class, I purposefully didn’t go into overt detail as to keep as much spontaneity as possible in the mark-making. This subtle manipulation of the group seemed necessary at the time to cultivate the heightened energy within the class, but it would also lead to some interesting aspects of the final work. I knew that the dancers would attempt to emulate some of my mark-making style. This wasn’t something that I worked too hard to overcome, though I did make a point of encouraging them in the preparatory discussion to allow their own voices to come through. It was apparent that any overt direction, even that of telling them to not listen to direction, would increase the anxiety they might already be feeling at trying something new. They were excited and enthusiastic, but also worried that they would 14 The moment of experimentation with multiple brush sizes. Photo by Alex Moya. 15 somehow ruin what I was trying to create. This is where the year of preparation was a benefit to the situation and also a challenge. As we had created the aforementioned “safe space” in the studio, where they would dance with lessening concern for my presence and I would draw with more confidence, there was also a sense of respect for each other’s art-form. They wouldn’t want to inhibit my work anymore than I would want to disrupt theirs. While we able to interact well despite these concerns, I came to more fully recognize that this dynamic is not one that is easily overcome. I do not consider them my direct students, but as a comparison, it became representative one of the greatest challenges to the instructor/student relationship in the arts. To enable someone to create freely, an environment of trust is imperative and achieving that is not easily or quickly done. This tension in their mark making is demonstrative of the hurdles that are ever-present in the attempt to draw spontaneous creations out of an audience. That hesitancy is, in part, the reason that I chose not to present this act of documentation in a live performance for an outside audience, as I had originally considered. As much as I wanted an immediate reaction and visual response, I also wanted the acts to be presented with minimal fear or judgment of their evolving personal process. This is why creating the larger collaborative work in the security of the dancers’ familiar territory was so essential. It also gave me an opportunity to further examine my methods and tools. For instance, to better facilitate the interaction of a large group of people who were accustomed to operating in a large space, we needed to increase the scale of the work itself and adapt the tools we would use. While there are many ways we could’ve done this, I chose to start with photo backdrop paper, which wouldn’t require any additional construction to create a larger surface than what I had been working with on my own. This would allow us to have a large seamless substrate that was also durable enough for us to walk across it without causing any damage. The altered tools included a brush built by constructing a wooden frame around 4 smaller brushes which was then attached to a long handle, extending our reach and adding momentum to the strokes. Additionally, I attached smaller brushes to 5ft long PVC pipes. The shafts were quite flexible, thereby enabling greater pressure to be applied which facilitated more extended dance movements. The dancers could lean into these brushes, as well as, pull them slowly, while still maintaining adequate contact with the paper’s surface. Further tool exploration will be an essential aspect of this work going forward, as these rudimentary efforts also had their drawbacks. The constructed brush, for instance, has a swiveling head that was far too loose to maintain a sense of direction and control. There is also the issue of color that many have pointed out as a logical next step or even missed opportunity. While I too am eager to try the addition of color, for this particular body of work, the focal point was meant to be the movement of the dance. The addition of color carries an added narrative weight which could result in the possibility of 16 Visitors to the exhibit during the reception. Photos by Amelia Walchli. 17 powerful emotional direction, thereby creating an unintended dominance in the marks. For instance, if the strokes were in red, anything with sharp angles would be seen as much more aggressive than if they were in blue or gray. Likewise, a subtle curved red stroke could read as far too sensual. The black ink, however, while it can be read in a multitude of ways, ultimately centers the focus on the motion and gesture of the stroke itself. It also enables the concept of documentation more fully by encouraging an analytical response rather than forcing the more emotional reading that would inevitably result with color. As such, this series can be seen as a practice which will develop the foundation for more specific uses of the technique which would utilize the option of color with greater awareness and discipline. While this project began with my own efforts to interpret what I was witnessing and feeling, the response of the dancers to the work itself eventually became paramount. Due to that emphasis, I was especially interested in what the result of the larger collaborative effort would be. We had enjoyed many discussions throughout the creation of the smaller works, but those had not involved them in the same way as the larger, more interactive, communal experience. As the class time wound down, so did the dancing and the painting. We began to process what we had been communicating to each other and how that was being translated on the paper. The class gathered around the painting and through the prompts offered by myself and the instructor, Daniel Clifton, the dance students shared insights about their process of making the larger work. Many of the dancers were intrigued by the notion of their movements leaving permanent marks and were curious, as previously noted, about the idea of including multiple colors. What seemed to be consistent in all of their thoughts was the idea that this had led them to evaluate what they were doing as dancers in a different way. It was as though they were able to step outside themselves and view their intentions as they were being interpreted by others. This seemed to be an overall pleasant process for them, one that left them with the feeling of being able to translate something precious to them to a different format while maintaining its perceived beauty. It was as though we had all shared in the telling of a story and then, upon reading it, found it to be better than we had hoped it would be. EXHIBITION When the time came to exhibit the work, there were actually very few questions left undecided. Having been in the process of its creation for so long and knowing the exhibition was coming, I had begun to explore options and make decisions early on. As the small works began to accumulate in my studio, I became more acutely aware of how they encapsulated a progression of time. The drawings became a sketchbook, 18 demonstrating growth in technique and an increasing understanding of the subject matter. To exhibit this principal, I chose to show the work in chronological order without editing the sequence where possible. In the final exhibit, my design for the gallery only allowed for 48 of the remaining 53 images (12 of them were being displayed in the University of Utah’s Eccels’ House). In order to keep things chronologically honest, I chose to remove 5 images from the final weeks of the process, since by that time I was becoming more prolific and, as noted earlier, the work was becoming predictable. My goal was to demonstrate the growth achieved through the process of refining both the technique and the intent of the work. To do this, I felt that displaying the early and mid-point stages in process was essential. The larger collaborative piece, however, presented several challenges. First, there was the immense size to deal with. Any gallery space I chose to exhibit in would be dominated by it. Additionally, I wanted it to be hung on the wall for both aesthetic and conceptual reasons. Aesthetically, the ability to stand and look into the painting directly elevates the status of the mark-making. These marks are not simply the trails of the feet of the dancers, they are indicative of much more. Leaving the paper on the floor would have also indicated to the viewer that they would be able to follow the pattern of a specific dance phrase through the piece. Again, this was not the intention of the mark-making. Conceptually, I wanted the work of the group to be seen as a companion to the smaller work I had created. By dividing the gallery down the center, I was able to devote equal floor space to each body of work. Then, by using sparse lighting, I directed the gallery visitors gaze to each piece and each side of the room directly. This provided for the a simple separation without a complete disconnect. The smaller works displayed the quantity, labor, and process of the experience, while the larger piece encapsulated the work of all involved in a single moment of expression. My intent was to highlight that each aspect of the project was of equal importance. However, I do recognize that the sheer scale of the larger work cannot be denied as the main focal point of the exhibit. This was anticipated during its creation and its a fact that I’m completely comfortable with. This work could not have happened without the involvement of the School of Dance. While I’m proud of the individual work I was able to create, I also feel that it’s essential to convey to the viewer the participation of others that enabled it. An additional aspect of the show that proved to be somewhat problematic was the inclusion of the audio recordings from the day of the larger work’s creation. The intent had been to display the visual work along with the sounds of the room and thereby invite the viewers to create the scene of the dancers and the painting in their mind. The theory was that this would allow for greater investigation by the individual and less of a scripted narrative dictated by the artist. The volume of the audio was low enough that unless the gallery was fairly empty or the viewer was standing near the source (hidden 19 under a pedestal near the entrance), it wouldn’t be heard. Because the audio wasn’t an absolutely essential aspect of the show, I felt that this would be an added benefit for those who found themselves in the gallery at more quiet moments during the day. That choice resulted in some confusion by those who were there at times when the sounds weren’t able to be heard well. Conversely, those who were able to experience the exhibit by themselves said that the sound provided exactly the imaginative response I had hoped for. For future exhibits of the work and during the expansion of future projects, I’ll need to refine how I approach this aspect of the experience, however, I have yet to come to a full solution in this regard. Another difficult decision was made concerning the showing of the video documentation of the larger work. My ultimate choice to not include it was connected to the decision about the audio recording. I was hopeful that the exhibit would cause people to ask questions about the work’s creation and source and then engage their imagination to find their own solutions. Displaying a video of the process would eliminate the need for that. Viewers would be shown the secret, so to speak, and the mystery would dissolve. APPLICATION Much of this method’s progression will be determined by the collaboration that is developed through groups outside of The School of Dance. I’m particularly interested in how it can be used outside of the realm of capturing movement. After all, in its simplest form, this reportage-like process of documenting an experience in an unfamiliar way is an effective tool in creating awareness across disciplines. All areas of interaction, whether they are academic, cultural, familial, or professional, can benefit from a greater sense of awareness. Over the coming months, I’ll be creating workshops with multiple outlets that will enable attendees to experience a similar process to my own as I worked with the dancers. These new collaborators will bring with them their unique perspectives and desires that can be addressed through a medium that for many of them will be completely new. I’m curious what the outcome will be of bringing, for instance, a marketing team together with an accounting team. How can my process of engagement help others to find new insight into themselves and others, thereby creating new approaches to communication? By engaging them in this way, I hope to develop greater empathic understanding and increased effectiveness in their communication. As the groups interact in new ways, they’ll develop a bond through their shared progression and will begin to discover their own pathways to more effective and progressive collaboration. My own process of creating work with the dancers was developed out of the idea of increasing effective communication through understanding. If I’m successful in sharing this with others, I hope to see their ability to communicate grow as well. With 20 that increased ability, new insights, like those that have helped me progress as an artist, will develop in ways that are unique to the individual. One of the many rewards of this endeavor has been the involvement with and representation of a larger group. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have been able to connect with the vibrant dance community and to be made so welcome in their department. They enabled me to discover new opportunities of interaction and experimentation that had been missing from my previous practice as an illustrator and designer. That opportunity was further developed by reaching out tos the School of Business to study entrepreneurship and the Center for Teaching and Learning Excellence to develop a greater understanding of teaching in higher education. It could be argued that this should have led me to a community art focus, however I believe it was important for me to first understand more about myself and my own goals and desires as an artist. In illustration, it is rare to have the opportunity, or even the time, to recreate or redefine yourself. As I’ve previously noted, my pathway to a graduate program was guided by that sense of needing an opportunity to define myself for myself. If I had jumped into the graduate program here with a firm grasp on what exactly I was doing, I would’ve missed out on the questions, challenges, and critiques that have led me to discover anew who I want to be as an artist, illustrator, designer, and educator. That spirit of curiosity is something that I’m learning to appreciate more and more as it becomes not simply an attribute to be dealt with, but one to be directed and engaged in more fully. Carrying that belief into my future practice will be fundamental for me personally, but is also already proving invaluable in opening doors for new collaborators and opportunities. This body of work has been labeled different things by different audiences, but to me it will always be a record, a documentation, of a journey of discovery. With its mistakes and successes displayed equally throughout the process. It bares its naiveté with boldness and simplicity, but with an honesty that only its minimalism can properly communicate. Each work calls to the viewer to enter into to the moment of its creation, with a voice that echoes simply, “We were here.” 21 Collected Works: 50 (of 65), ink on paper, 19x24”, 2016-2017 22 SEPTEMBER 2016 23 24 OCTOBER 2016 25 NOVEMBER 2016 26 27 28 29 30 JANUARY 2017 31 32 33 34 FEBRUARY 2017 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 COLLABORATION WITH THE UNIVERSITY OF UTAH SCHOOL OF DANCE February 10, 9:40-11:40 42 Photo by Amelia Walchli 43 Bibliography 1. Greene, Maxine (1995). Releasing the Imagination: Essays on Education, the Arts, and Social Change. San Francisco: Jossey Bass; (Pp. 155 - 156). 2. Goodman, Amy. “Augusto Boal, Founder of the Theater of the Oppressed, Dies at 78.” Democracy Now! N.p., 6 May 2009. Web. 2016. <https://www.democracynow. org/2009/5/6/augusto_boal_founder_of_the_theater>. Original interview recorded in June 2007 44