Philadelphia Open Studios

Had a wonderful day last Saturday popping in and out of many, many artist's studios here in Philadelphia. Through POST, many artists pay a fee to advertise an open studio day to the public. It was so cool, as "the public" to have a free and open invitation to see the works in progress of the vibrant community of artists in this city, and to meet the hands that made so much of my favorite local art.

I was catapulted into my day (with a fantastic tour guide and mentor, I may add) when I walked into Elaine Erne's house and was confronted by three very, very large bunnies existing in some frightening and sad scenarios. I couldn't believe it when she showed me her medium: regular graphite pencils: to make 60 by 80 inch drawings or so. No, not even thick pencils.

We made a stop at the League Street studios, in which several good surprises unfolded as we turned all the many corners and hallways. Dolores Poacelli had some cool work up, as did Maria Christopher and Lee Horne. Had a good conversation with Lee Horne about how abstraction may be approached, and the differences between unfinished and finished work. I decided after seeing her unfinished abstracted landscapes that it is a murky area indeed. The white spaces in those landscapes were beautiful.

The Midwives Gallery was next, and I laughed and laughed at Angel O's exhibit there. We found Gretchen Diehl camped out in the hallway, with some beautiful drawings, working in her sketchbook. I encourage everyone reading to look at her site. Her drawing hand is exquisite.
Lunch at Charlie's house. He's doing all this colorful geometric abstraction now, a near 180 degrees from the dream-like figuration that was in his studio last time I visited. Isaiah Zagar dropped in and plopped down next to me to partake of the baguette and goat's brie and salami that was being shared. He's a funny guy. And, I don't need to mention, talented.

Finally, up to Port Richmond to see Alice Oh's studio, which was conveniently in the same building as a few Moore alums, like Aubrie Costello, as well as Darla Jackson, Charles Burwell, and the talented folks in The Sweatshop. Darla Jackson's little black animals in party hats were adorable and serious and wise all at once. The birds were my favorite, but the dead (deer?) on the floor was moving. Charles Burwell had a lot to say about his process, and was well-spoken. I came to the conclusion that I liked the first layer he puts on his canvases the best, much better than the last. My tour guide decided the opposite: he liked the last layer the best.

What a day. It would take a novel to describe all that I learned about living and making art, about selling one's art, about getting through difficult problems in a work. I met several people I wish to keep in touch with, if for no other reason so that they can continue to answer the questions I still have about the above subjects.

Off to my dentist appointment, for which I may be late now.