This is the poem Harold Joiner read at the opening of Colors of a Place, because it beautifully expresses his experience in developing the paintings for the exhibition.
A Painter’s Mixed Result
I grew up in New Mexico, not the cool part of the state where everything is built of adobe and where famous artists like O’Keeffe made history, but New Mexico nevertheless. Other parts of the extended family were in Santa Fe, so I got to spend plenty of time there as a kid. It was a time when the Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner cartoons were popular, and I was intrigued that the mesas we passed along the way really looked like the ones in the cartoons. They were flat as a board on top, and somewhat orange colored, just like the cartoon mesas.
Many of our family vacations were in the desert Southwest, at a time when vacations by car were popular. The interstate highway system was being built, the lesser highways were being upgraded to accommodate more traffic, and “modern” motels with extravagant neon signs were being built for the tourist throng. We visited numerous locations in New Mexico, Colorado, and Arizona, but my favorite place was Santa Fe. I loved the high mountain air, the Hispanic and Indian cultural milieu, the smell of pinon, and the glorious autumn color display of the aspen trees.
Works in my current solo exhibition at Archway are the inventions of a guy revisiting the memories of a childhood. With the passing of my sister earlier this year, I’m the end of the line. She was the last one, besides me, who knew the family stories. She was there on those vacations in the enchanted land, and she teased me about the roadrunner. After college, she moved away too, but she also hung onto our shared memories of a treasured, colorful place.
– Harold Joiner, November 2021
by Joe Haden
Why my decision to be a sculptor is simple, I see things in 3D in my mind. As I design and fabricate, I don’t use many drawings much at all.
My proudest moments, in creating, are when a simple idea in my head blossoms into a fabulous detailed piece of art, and then again when I see my art in its new environment of an art collectors’ home.
The ability to express my delight in jurying an art exhibition during this extraordinary historical period is hard to put into words. Art is such an elemental part of the fabric of humankind that to have it disrupted in the lineal norm makes the opportunity to see work produced during this period curious and enlightening.
As I worked my way through the images, I was confronted with the same difficulty all jurors find themselves confronted with. How to select the work when your numbers are fixed. This year the work felt deep and personal. I felt the work reflected the depth of the artist’s perception of their lives during this isolated time. This said, I have always felt that all art is exceptional, some is just better than others. Of course, that’s because I like it.
So, if your piece wasn’t selected it doesn’t mean it wasn’t as significant as those selected, it just means I was limited and chose those that appealed to my aesthetics. Nothing more nothing less.
Thank you all for participating in the Archway juried exhibition and keep adding the element of creative humanity that is art.
Best, Wayne Gilbert
By Joe Hale Haden
My Art Car addictions began in the late 80’s, when I heard about a parade of ART on cars then a friend invited me to the Art Car Ball. After that, I didn’t hesitate to join in on the fun. My first Art Car Parade was a blast, and they even gave me a trophy for my efforts; I was hooked! For many years I entered the parade as a skater, then helped on group projects with other skaters, which lead to doing several cars together with the skaters, and eventually leading to doing my own Art Cars. There’s nothing like chopping up a car or cutting holes in it, and some years I helped with 6-7 Art Car projects. Working on an Art Car always lets my imagination run wild.
Driving an Art Car in the parade is like being shot out of a cannon for an hour and a half; what a great adrenaline rush! It also gave me a deadline for a huge project. Each year I had to do something new and completely different, so each year got harder and harder to be original, but my imagination has never let me down... even after 30 years. Driving an Art Car on a daily basis is a complete world of its own; everyone’s your friend. Panhandlers don’t ask me for money, instead, they want to talk to talk about the car. In an Art Car, I’ve never had concerns about being in neighborhoods where I might otherwise be worried. The best part is that you can instantly find your car in a big parking lot!
Through the years, winning not only 1st, but 1st & 2nd place Art Car in one year was one of my most amazing experiences! I have missed the parades scheduled for 2020 & 2021 but I’m hopeful for 2022, and I have a great idea and car waiting.
By Joe Hale Haden
The struggle between being an artist and an engineer is a dance of disciplines which I enjoy. Rules, rules, rules, and then... My art plays with breaking the rules; it can be a paradox and my sense of humor can usually be found in some manner when viewing the work. It takes knowing how to make a strong design then pushing it to defy the rules. My proudest moments in art would have to be when the ideas in my head play out and I can physically create or reproduce the idea successfully.
A few years ago, after injuring my leg and needing to learn to walk again, I had the time to hang out with my friend Mik Miano who taught me how to “cold bend” metal. This started a new journey for me and began my love for metal; it just felt right. I feel metal picked me, and it just took me a while to get on board.
Finding ideas for my artwork is simple: My imagination has full power of attorney when it comes to an endless supply of great and outlandish projects. I’m only limited by time and money usually, and that is why I love found objects. They are free and give me constant inspiration; by working with found objects, there aren’t many rules, so this allows me to break rules in a harmonious way. Some of my work has a lot of contradiction, but somehow it works out for a beautiful piece of art to emerge from that contradiction. I don’t have enough time on this planet to produce all of the ideas I have in my head, and I’m OK with that... It gives me the opportunity to keep coming back for more.
by Shirl Riccetti
Honest, I am NOT whining. But truthfully... I DO miss traveling. It is not just being at a dramatic location; it is the planning to arrive there.
I enjoy doing much research by scouring magazines and books, buying paper maps (yes!), navigating internet search, and then more research. It is the Fun of Getting There. Once at a destination, I feel comfortable having an outline noting events, foods, buildings, etc. that I may want to see.
My spiral sketchbooks, always at the ready, not only hold Pen Drawings, but also my jottings of the sounds and the smells which surround me. Each person carries a personal history and a special story; these can be shown in a “walk” or a “casual pose.” Old buildings leave “marks"; also, perhaps in markings found in the stones. In a semicircular stone stairway in a castle in Scotland, I could envision the hardship of maids carrying trays of food to the many floors (with no railings).
I draw with a pen of permanent ink because I want the sketches to capture my first impressions in that drawing moment; there is No Eraser, No Do-Overs. And yes, there are many wayward unintended lines... so be it. My sketchbook is made up of average quality paper; later, some of the drawings will be re-drawn larger, on good quality paper, to be framed.
Yes, I miss traveling; the people-watching, the strangers, and even crying with some families as their loved ones fly away. These are the visual stories that I may never fully know, but they do impress me and my imagination greatly.
Becky R. Soria
I come from an art-oriented family where classical music and art surrounded me. My father was an internist doctor who dabbled in painting but mainly collected it; he also was a collector of ancient South American art. My brother, Fernando Casas, showed his talent for the arts at an early age; he is now a full-time artist and philosopher. I was interested in drawing and painting from an early age; in my teens, I was also interested in choreography and ballet dancing. During this time, I felt a growing interest in the pre-Columbian artifacts and minerals from my father’s collection and in learning about ancient cultures of the world. I do remember painting a couple of those large stones with oils for a ballet choreographed performance; of course, those stone faces were never the same and I got into big trouble for painting them!
As I grew older, becoming more aware of the disparities and inequalities of females through history, I became sensitive to the plight of women. This sensitivity along with the combination of my interest in ancient Paleolithic cave paintings began an ART journey which would eventually help me evolve into who I am now as an artist.
Most of my work depicts female figures, although not exclusively. The work is of human figures transformed abstractly showing wonder and pain; nature is woven into the figures along with hints of myths and past primitive cultures.
These are works of intimate explorations, but they are also universal to all women.
In my paintings, I approach the human figure less from its familiar shapes, and much more from within, making visible its visceral emotional life. Using abstractions of language, color, and texture that allow me to capture the profound sentiments that humans have felt throughout the ages for the Earth as Goddess and Mother, I explore the historical evolution of woman. Within the quietude of my studio, and while the pandemic ravaged the world, I let my sensations, feelings, visions, and thoughts of what we were experiencing further my investigation of the human body and its inner reality
This collection of images flows from the stark perceptions of the difficult times we are living in. They juxtapose the fragility and strength of the human spirit. These images are at once representations of personal and universal images engendered by my muse, the mysterious source of creation. The meditative journey that walked me through the real and illusory perceptions of the body and its ability to heal, brought to life this exhibition of twenty-five works.
Modern women declare their ability to rise above and create passion on their own behalf; they embody memories of their consciousness and union with the natural instinctual life.
Art is mysterious it urges me to BE.
I nurture it – it nurtures me back.
by Silvia PintoSouza
I paint from the heart, and a gut feeling. I don’t follow scientific theories when it comes to color, composition, and shapes. I paint objects as my heart sees them and their potential to become works of art. My aim is to give ordinary elements of daily life a new identity. They can become “Stars,” no matter how humble their origins. I see Art all around me; anyone who has the eye of an artist, trained or not, would agree. The world is rich with Art, and our role as artists is to discover it.
I have been painting since early in life. My mother was an artist herself, and I used to draw next to her. She would just let me do what I pleased, and felt the results were not too disappointing; she thought that I had talent. Much later in art school, I learned the basics of many different techniques, especially in the artform of Printmaking, and after several years of experimentation, I decided that I needed something where development and results could be seen in a more immediate way. As a result, I have been painting for the last 30 years in acrylic. This medium gives me a wide range of possibilities by painting directly from the tube to diluting the paint in water to build up various values of color with multiple layers.
I believe my paintings are intimate, romantic, and direct. My message is the image itself, and what it can bring to your heart. I hope that when you look at my work, you are caught in that beauty and are living it because Art is comfort. It is where we take “Shelter.” It is the shoulder where we can rest our head.
Sitting on my porch swing on a glorious Houston afternoon, just days after the horrid storm that took lives, burst pipes, destroyed homes, gardens, bats and birds.
I’m marveling at leaves still clinging to oaks, shriveled on palms and citrus. My papaya tree is done for, despite all the wrapping and pre-emptive care. The container plants, moved to shelter, are all outdoors again, reaching into the sun.
The backyard birds and squirrels have been out in force, though we haven’t yet seen the little cardinal couple. I hope they survived. Nature’s regenerative force can cruelly cull even the sweetest and most gentle of creatures. If they emerge or return, we will rejoice and feed them well.
- Liz ConcesSpencer