| Publication Type | thesis |
| School or College | Master of Arts |
| Department | Art/Art History |
| Creator | Perreault, Alison Marie |
| Title | Bodily housed |
| Date | 1999-05 |
| Description | Exhibiting work has to do with communication. Like the Berkeley illustration of a tree falling in the forest, a receiver must be present in order for the sound to be heard. In the sharing of the work is the desire to communicate the experience. My Master of Fine Arts graduate exhibition consists of two large murals, six works on paper, three works on stretched canvas, and two pieces on Masonite board. A variety of traditional drawing and painting media have been worked together: acrylic, charcoal, and ink, while oil paint, paint sticks, and oil pastels are most dominant. To accompany the work in Gittins Gallery, I installed pieces of furniture offering some places for visitors to sit and spend time and to suggest a sense of intimate domesticity. At one end of the gallery sits a worn love seat and at the opposite end of the gallery is a small single tapestry-covered chair. Placed beneath the wall statement is a small table draped with a lace doilie and topped with a chrome toaster. This body of work evolved from a process that has led me to learn to trust my imagination and memory, accompanied by observation. Different kinds of accuracies were revealed through the process. Natural exaggerations emerged, and I was excited with the configurations when they worked; that is to say, when the paintings felt right in their power to express a humanness. I felt several polarities as the work advanced and a great deal of uncertainty accompanied the experience. It is this transience that makes the encounter so intriguing. What I have discovered is that working from imagination and observation parallels my interest in people whose connections and separations are made up of inner and outer realities. This is the foundation of my work. |
| Type | Text |
| Publisher | University of Utah |
| Alternate Title | Master of Fine Arts |
| Rights Management | ©Alison Marie Perreault |
| Format Medium | application/pdf |
| Format Extent | 24,591 bytes |
| Identifier | ir-mfa/id/160 |
| ARK | ark:/87278/s64b66db |
| Setname | ir_mfafp |
| ID | 215081 |
| OCR Text | Show BODILY HOUSED by Alison Marie Perreault A thesis submitted to the faculty of The University of Utah in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts Department of Art The University of Utah May 1999 Copyright © Alison Marie Perreault 1999 All Rights Reserved SUPERVISORY COMMITTEE APPROVAL THE UNIVERSITY OF UTAH COLLEGE OF FIXE ARTS of a thesis submitted bv Alison Marie Perreault This thesis has been read bv each member of the following supervisory committee and bv majoritv vote has been found to be satisfactory. Chairman\ ) Joseph Marotta CL_ ________._______________, , - - .. U M^try F r a n c e y i / ' David Dornan THE UNIVERSITY OF UTAH COLLEGE OF FINE ARTS FINAL READING APPROVAL To the Graduate Council of T h e University of Utah: I have read the thesis o f A l i s o n M a r i e P e r r e a u l t ___________ in its final'form and have found that (1) its format, citations, and bibliographic style are consistent and acceptable: (2) its illustrative materials including figures, tables, and charts are in place: and (3) the final manuscript is satisfactory to the Supervisory Committee and is ready for submission to the Graduate School. May, 1999_______ r „__________ Date Jo(seph\ M a r o t ta ChairpWson. Supervisory Committee Approved for the Major Department N a t h a n Winters Chairperson Approved for the Graduate Council ---------------- -- i- ---------------------------------------------------------- P h y l l i s Haskell Dean, College of Fine Arts ABSTRACT Exhibiting work has to do with communication. Like the Berkeley illustration of a tree falling in the forest, a receiver must be present in order for the sound to be heard. In the sharing of the work is the desire to communicate the experience. My Master of Fine Arts graduate exhibition consists of two large murals, six works on paper, three works on stretched canvas, and two pieces on Masonite board. A variety of traditional drawing and painting media have been worked together: acrylic, charcoal, and ink, while oil paint, paint sticks, and oil pastels are most dominant. To accompany the work in Gittins Gallery, I installed pieces of furniture offering some places for visitors to sit and spend time and to suggest a sense of intimate domesticity. At one end of the gallery sits a worn love seat and at the opposite end of the gallery is a small single tapestry-covered chair. Placed beneath the wall statement is a small table draped with a lace doilie and topped with a chrome toaster. This body of work evolved from a process that has led me to learn to trust my imagination and memory, accompanied by observation. Different kinds of accuracies were revealed through the process. Natural exaggerations emerged, and I was excited with the configurations when they worked; that is to say, when the paintings felt right in their power to express a humanness. I felt several polarities as the work advanced and a great deal of uncertainty accompanied the experience. It is this transience that makes the encounter so intriguing. What I have discovered is that working from imagination and observation parallels my interest in people whose connections and separations are made up of inner and outer realities. This is the foundation of my work. v TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT........................................................................................iv PREFACE..........................................................................................vii BODILY HOUSED: A PHILOSOPHICAL STUDY....................... 1 TOUCH: MATERIALS AND METHODOLOGY........................... 5 MEMORIES: A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH..................................8 UNPREDICTABLE RESOLUTIONS: A CONCLUSION............11 INVENTORY OF ARTWORK/ ALVIN GITTINS GALLERY......12 EPILOGUE.........................................................................................15 REFERENCES 16 PREFACE Last year I experienced a fascinating and influential installation in Boston. The work, "Buried Secrets, " was created by video artist Bill Viola. Viola's interests include the communication barriers between people. Rather than providing solutions, the artist provokes investigation. The installation consisted of a suite of five passages. In one of the spaces was a large projection of a moving image showing the interaction among three women. The stage is a theater-like setting that slows motion and sound to an extreme. Observers are able to process the nuance of every gesture and apparent emotion among the three women as they interact with one another. The piece demonstrates that subtleties of a passive expression can have greater impact than an invasive scream. I think a thought-provoking painting is similar to a motion picture in that neither is a static image. The meaning of a painting changes according to the observer. Although a painting is a reflection of a specific time, it is also timeless because of its ability to forever remain in a state of flux despite its frozen appearance. I found Viola's work compelling for its open-ended quality. I hope my paintings offer the same character. In referring to the work of Frances Bacon, John Russell wrote, "A major painting is one that gives up its secrets, one by one, for several hundred years, instead of dropping them, ready packaged, into the first-comer's lap" (as cited in Robertson Russell, and Lord Snowdon, 1965, p.64). It seems to me that good work has much to do about opposites. It seems the same is true for life. Building relationships (in life and art) means savoring that which is decidedly valuable, evaluating perfections, recognizing the impact of preconceptions, and trusting development. As a human being and an artist, I see the challenge, often overwhelming and always intriguing. In my acknowledgment for the support I have received during my graduate program, I extend many thanks to the faculty and staff of the Department of Art and the Department of Art History of the University of Utah whose sincere interests guided me through a rich and short period of my life. The lessons I have learned are some of the most valuable I have experienced. I am extremely appreciative to have had such a nourishing and challenging environment for creative exploration. Working within the University setting has afforded me the opportunity to expand my knowledge and range of tools to create pictures. Although the painting department is small, the professors are brilliant, not only in their abilities as painters but also in their individual ideas which they freely share through the articulation of their mediums and use of words. An introduction to photography and printmaking techniques has supported and affected my painting. The photographic process of capturing an image in an instant made lucid the subject with which I am fascinated. My understanding for color relationships and line quality have been influenced by exploring techniques of printmaking. The art history department also deserves recognition for contributing to the process by exposing roots of the many encounters and objects called art. It is also necessary to thank my husband, Matthew R. Steubing for his support and for the teachings he has provided me and continues to provide. ix BODILY HOUSED: A PHILOSOPHICAL STUDY My daily life and the process of painting are inseparable. Each experience is influence by the other, occasionally in an esoteric way, but usually in a most fundamental manner. One day while driving in Salt Lake City I saw a nun dressed in full habit standing on the comer by the Cathedral of the Madeline. She leaned forward over the curb, maybe checking for traffic or watching for a friend. Within the ordinary of the moment there existed a majesty to her form. She protected a flesh hidden beneath layers of draped cloth, a body that could only be imagined from my point of view. Her little face peered like a button from the top of the mound as she stretched with effort over the edge. Someday her image may appear in one of my paintings though, its purpose would not be to objectively paint a picture of the person I saw. The devices and codes I use in my work are a compilation of many characters. This menagerie of fictitious personalities is realized in a singular and subjective form, in this case inspired by the image of the nun. A single image or scene has the advantage of transposing the sublime by providing the ground for fundamental recognition through this specificity. Working with memories and imagination offers a wider array of possibilities which are not bound by visual parity achieved when working from life or photographs, having to do with copying a thing that is physically placed in front of one's eyes. These direct copying methods are good exercises and for that I keep an active sketchbook on hand. The resulting drawings may be references to be used later, but they do not have the ability to excite and surprise me like the developing paintings. The pictures within my imagination demand nothing outside myself and are, therefore, less constrained than a picture executed solely through visual observation. Through this manner of working the process has become far more challenging. The process is an experience of nonverbal communication that takes me to "secret places" where I am able to connect with, or distance myself from others. The working process provides a sensibility that anything is possible. Lucien Freud wrote: "The promise [of complete happiness] is felt in the act of creation but disappears toward the completion of the work... [The painter] almost dared to hope that the picture might spring to life. Thus the process of creation becomes more necessary than the picture" (as cited in Stiles and Selz, 1996, p.221). In working with the human form as subject I am able to use the image of the physical body to enhance the psychological experience. Social interactions and contrasting complacencies seem to describe the dichotomy of human practice. That is to say, the familiarity and relatedness of people's physical forms is juxtaposed against the separateness of people's emotional and intellectual impressions. Leonardo da Vinci made an interesting statement: "If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself...If you are accompanied by even one companion you belong only half to yourself, or even less, in proportion to the thoughtlessness of his conduct" (as cited in Wallace, 1996, p.74). Relationships have a way of shaping people's identities. It may be that the identity of an individual is defined mainly through someone else. Consider a woman who spends a lifetime as Mrs. John Smith or the sibling who is recognized primarily as the brother of "so and so." Such connections can be a hindrance and/or a strength. By sharing an imagined relationship and allowing my characters to be exposed the specifics of the revealings are determined by the onlooker and in this way the work can remain open-ended. It is neither unusual nor uncomfortable for the figures I paint to be fully or partially nude. Trepidation felt by some or many (?) observers may have to do with the associations nudity has with privacy. I am trying to expose privacy, both psychologically and physically. Revealing through intimacy is my intention. Without clothing people are more vulnerable and sometimes nudity is the only way a figure should be portrayed. Although vulnerability is often associated with weakness, I see it as a human strength because vulnerability is an integral part of intimacy. And a level of intimacy, which is achieved in the breakdown of barriers, is for me synonymous with honesty, which is difficult to come by due to the veiling process of social learning. Even in the privacy of my studio honesty is difficult to achieve. I work representationally and an illusion is, after-all, a visual lie. On the other hand, art addressing only formal elements of design may be an object much like a mask for the artist to hide behind. To speak personally through painting and drawing, to refer to the visual world and to alter the illusion as a reminder of the placidity of the object, physically and psychologically, is the means by which I search for honesty in my work. It seems to me that people hunger for intimacy but, at the same time, fear its connection. Alice Neel said, "The human race wants something they never can get, security" (as cited in Hills, 1983, p. 274). TOUCH: MATERIALS AND METHODOLOGY I choose my painting and drawing materials for their physical characteristics. Oil paint embodies controllable and uncontrollable qualities. Because oil paint dries slowly it remains malleable for a significant length of time, providing me the option to shift the surface elements more fluidly. There is also something enriching about the vast "blood line" and nature of pigment and charcoal. Like an old religion or ritual these materials are rooted within the earth and history. For every tool that makes a mark, there are endless surfaces that can be created to pose parallels and contradictions. The variations are diverse voices coming together on common ground. Paintings can be aggressive and intrusive in some areas, transparent and fragile in others (which is the same for life experiences). These characteristics are the impetus for my motivation. I use color and line for their abilities to affect and arouse emotions. Clement Greenberg (1940) described line as "one of the most abstract elements in painting since it is never found in nature as a definition of a contour" (p. 304). While Greenberg's assessments of art parallels Modernist concerns for design, his viewpoint remains applicable, in part, to contemporary art. Line is in fact abstract and more so, line is a human code used for communication. Considering that which is seen as lines are actually edges touching each other, line (for me) is a symbol for touch. The tactile qualities of my materials are physically charging. Stretched canvas has a spring to its surface when my brush or hand presses into it making the process less controllable. Paper can be slick, especially when it has been primed. Brushes and sticks will glide across the surface of treated paper quickly and the mark left behind is evident of that quickness. I begin by attempting to approach the work with few preconceptions about its outcome. Marks may suggest references to shoulders. Soon, the image of a hand may appear. The body may be twisted "incorrectly," but there is something exciting about the imperfection. After all it is not a body; it is a painting. If I should feel trapped within a painting, when I sense that the distortions are not working, I will reach down to feel my own hip or turn my shoulder towards the mirror in my studio to see how that part of the body works in a turn. I may need to make separate sketches to work my way through. A figure may change positions or the size and shape of a form may change several times before I am satisfied. As a painter who is working out the layout on a single surface the variations within the surface and the layering of marks remain evident of the procedure, like leaving footprints, adding to the textural quality of the work. I am also piqued by the various interactions (conversations?) which are affected by the size of a drawing or painting. Large works require more physical interaction; mural size pieces demand that I climb up and down a ladder, working from the shoulder. While large works have the ability to "engulf' a person, small pieces have the ability to make a person tuck in closely to investigate. In small paintings the strokes appear large because of their relativity to the size of the surface. Finally, paintings that are comparable to average human size are more physically and psychologically matched to the viewer like reflections in mirrors. Altering sizes assures that I continue shifting my approaches, which supports the unpredictability of the encounter and the final resolution. MEMORIES: A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH During my graduate program at the University of Utah my sister, Renee, came to live with my husband and me. After several years of legal and personal conflicts between the New York court system and family, I was granted permanent guardianship. Renee has Downs Syndrome and is the most honest human being I know. Emotions are clearly registered on her face. Her boundaries and expectations are unlike any others of which I am aware. She reminds me of another lifetime, when we were children together, before learning much about social decorum. It was natural to close off outside noises, listen to inner voices, watch the world-not as a participant but as an observer-and draw our views of it. I have needed to communicate through the language of drawing and painting all my life. As a child I learned quickly that taking on the title of artist provided me with permission, privacy, and materials to draw and paint. Shyness and insecurity defined my communication with other children. Adults referred to me as a daydreamer with a short attention span. Drawing nurtured my separateness by offering me the power to re-create a personal reality deduced from observation, yet more perfect than anything I saw. I was fascinated by watching people. Often I was scolded for playing a "watching game" in which I hid behind the furniture peeking out at the visitors who came to our house. Sometimes I would spy on myself, visualizing what I must look like from the eyes of a flying bird, the eyes of a neighbor, or even the "eye" of a door knob. I would challenge myself to draw everything saw and would sit by the window on the school bus sketching everything that crossed in front of the window. I did not use pencil and paper; my materials were the tip of my tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth. I remember being a child in an adult painting and drawing class in downtown Rochester, New York. My teacher, Mr. Bibby ("Pete" to the other students) was an African American city mural painter primarily working with the human figure. I was dreadfully embarrassed when I entered the classroom next door to use the pencil sharpener and I came face to knee with a nude male model. Mr. Bibby, who seemed to be more than six and a half feet tall, bought a shiny new pencil sharpener for our classroom and hung it on the wall at my short height. Later. In Oakland, California, I remember working from a still life. When I ceased working, a female teacher asked me why I had stopped. "It doesn't matter if I finish it [the pastel drawing] because I already know what it will look like." I was at a loss as to what I needed to do. That same year I broke down sobbing in the middle of another class. We were working in clay from a model. It was a six-hour class demanding constant motion as we wheeled our armature stands across the room and around the model. I was exhausted. My arms hurt from pushing the clay. My legs and feet ached from standing on the cement floor. The aggressive male teacher took sticks to the students' work, beating their clay into positions so that their modeled figures were correctly plumb-lined. He did not beat mine. The balance in my work was fine, the proportions of my figure were fine. The model took a break. I didn't clean my hands or leave the room. Quietly I sat staring at my clump of modeled clay. The teacher came over and sat on the floor next to me. "What are you thinking?" In the burst of my trying to explain how I felt about my boring interpretation, which was anatomically correct, but lacking anything more, my eyes flooded. Following that I took a stick to my own work. Representatives for Walt Disney Productions had come to campus in search for undergraduate students who had good draftsmanship and had not yet established an individual signature of drawing. They were looking for artists who could be fitted to the Disney style of drawing. The scouts were interested in having me go to Florida to draw for the company. I was close to graduation and wanted to stay in California and did not pursue the offer. It became obvious that my artwork would have to go beyond reproduction of the visual world or stylized interpretations. ' These memories interrupt me on occasion, but they feel very far away. My sister Renee has no sense of linear time. Her memories are as concrete as the moment she experiences the event. She makes no differentiation between memories and the present. Much of her attention is spent within her imagination and memory. My closeness to and admiration for Renee have supported my curiosity to work from a more personal place within myself. By trusting the process and working with that which has caught my attention from within memory and imagination my compositions have become more layered, filled, and incalculable. 10 UNPREDICTABLE RESOLUTIONS: A CONCLUSION The unpredictabilities within the process of working allow the characters I paint to be unveiled without restrictions. Some of the most valuable experiences I have are those that come unexpectedly. Much of the unexpected can be extracted from the ordinary. There are many things in daily routine that seem ordinary at first but, with a second look, are extraordinary or even strange. This is very intriguing to me. One early evening I drove past a bridal shop window. The display caught my attention. Bridal gowns and dresses for bride's maids and flower girls were staged. Two of the mannequin forms were, oddly enough, headless. I returned to the display later. Approaching the window, I noticed that one figure was constructed of a basket form without head or limbs; The other was decapitated by the glare of street lights on the window glass. Within the group stood the main plastic bride, intact and unreal. Visitors to the shop took little notice of the display. In painting similar scenes a focus is placed on the ordinary in an unordinary way. Maybe in one of my paintings or drawings people take notice of such moments more carefully than they do otherwise. I am often asked about the juxtaposition of characters and objects in my work. Actually, I arrange nothing more or less than what life offers. It is hard for me to understand not noticing. Ultimately, people struggle for a balance between expectation and actuality, union and separation. My sensitivity for this challenge bleeds into everything I do. Life is a deep breath. Painting and drawing are like exhaling. INVENTORY OF WORK EXHIBITED IN ALVIN GITTINS GALLERY 13 1. Birdbath Mixed media on paper 4 2"x 30" 2. Coffee in Bed Mixed media on Masonite 7 2"x 48" 3. Cotton House Mixed media and paper on stretched canvas 4 8 "x 66" 4. Cut Mixed media on paper 30" x 40.5" 5. Doll House Mixed media on colored paper, mural 97"x 178" 6. Electric Blanket Mixed media on Masonite 72"x 48" 7. Gift Mixed media on paper 42"x 48" 8. Gretal All Grown Up - Mixed media on stretched canvas 66"x 48" 9. Less Than Two Mixed media on paper 4 2 "x 30" 10. Night Angel Mixed media on stretched canvas 6 6"x 48" 11. 7:45 Charcoal and acrylic on paper 46.5" x 34.5" 14 12. Sleepwalking at the Party Mixed media on colored paper 104"x 180" 13. Sunday Mixed media on paper 4 8"x 42" 14. Talk Mixed media on paper 30"x 22" t- EPILOGUE life amazes me in all its oddities of regular i like to believe i have learned something about us i like to believe i am painting through expectations placed upon me before my conception when two people intended to love each other or breathe through boxes concealed within bodies and eyes somewhere before truth time stops short of ever after passion is the only fix to see perfection in pain and imperfection we affect everyone in directly everything is not tellable they are kept through isolation rather than will . Secrets alison marie perreault REFERENCES Greenberg, C (1940). "Towards a newer Laocoon." Partisan Review, 7(4), 296-310 Hills, Patricia (1983). Alice Neel. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc. Robertson, B., Russell, J., & Snowdon, Lord (1965). Private view. London: Thomas Nelson and Sons LTD. Stiles, K., & Selz, P. (1996). Theories and documents o f contemporary art. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wallace, R. (1996). World o f Leonardo. New York: Time Life Books |
| Reference URL | https://collections.lib.utah.edu/ark:/87278/s64b66db |



