scribble sculptures.

On Thursday night I attended Mark Fox's opening at Robert Miller Gallery in Chelsea.

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The work on view is whimsical but also painstakingly rendered. Pieces simplistic in theory become complex through the layers of meaning created in the overlapping of cut-out text and doodles. Words take on and lose meaning as they hang in mid air or weave through other seemingly non-related text. How does each word relate? Is there a hidden message behind each piece?

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The idea of creating painted sculpture completely fascinated and inspired me. Seeing a return to painting  and being able to get a sense of the artist's hand in each piece was so refreshing.

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A definite must see.

Shot at Robert Miller Gallery, 524 West 26th Street, NYC. All photos by Nicole Weiler.

coming undone.

Ribbons have always fascinated me. Light bounces off the curves of a twirled or twisted silky strand, glowing electric white at the peaks and darkening deeply in the valleys. This high contrast of light and dark makes the ribbon one of my most favorite subjects to draw.

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At the Jean Paul Gaultier exhibit at The Brooklyn Museum of Art, I was struck by an exquisitely-made corset sewn together with salmon silk ribbon.

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Ballooning over a woman's hips, blossoming above her full breasts, the ribbons in the corset highlight and accentuate the beauty of the female form. The corset is both delicate and tough at the same time; the sensual, curvilinear lines in the garment are balanced by a tightly bound, hard lacing that shapes the body into near-impossible ideals. Tightly wound at top and spilling into beautiful chaos below.

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She is bathed in pink luxury, exuding a strong, confident sexuality... while still retaining a touch of vulnerability as she comes undone.

Shot at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. All photos by Nicole Weiler.

fall cutlery.

Last weekend I took a break from the city and ventured out to Montclair, NJ. It was my favorite kind of crisp autumn day. The trees were afire in shades of yellow, orange, and red. A bright blue sky provided the perfect backdrop.

The destination was the Montclair Art Museum, which I had never visited. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the museum has an exceptional collection. An exhibit on Native American art was followed by a show featuring some contemporary artists I am very much interested in - including Cindy Sherman, Alex Prager, and Nan Goldin.

However, my favorite part of the visit was just outside the museum walls.

Artist Jean Shin was commissioned by the museum to create the fascinating sculptures that currently reside near the front entrance. Her three pieces are constructed from stainless steel knives, forks, and spoons. Welded together, the cutlery is transformed into a tree stump, a log, and a spindly tree.

Shin has successfully transformed these mundane, everyday objects we usually never give a second thought to into breath-taking art objects. Highly recommended and definitely worth the trip.

Shot at the Montclair Art Museum. All photos by Nicole Weiler.

rented island rituals.

Halloween always catches me off guard. I spend months looking forward to the holiday, to the opportunity to get creative with costuming. And yet, when the special day finally arrives, I am caught off guard, usually costume-less.

Luckily I was able to improvise with glow-in-the-dark necklaces this year. Neon instantly adds an element of fun to any get-up.

The Whitney Museum provided the colorful necklaces at their opening party for "Rituals of Rented Island," on view through February 2nd. A Halloween celebration followed the exhibition viewing.

"Rituals of Rented Island" focuses on the radical performance art that took place in downtown Manhattan during the 1970's. Artists in this group performed anywhere and everywhere - in private lofts, on the stage, in store fronts. Some performance pieces lack any film documentation; photos and posters are left to tell their stories.

The show was quite fitting for a Halloween opening night as I found much of the work on view somewhat eerie. Jack Smith's monstrous bras for men (from his performance "Irrational Landlordism of Bagdad") were captivating but left me uncomfortable. The crazily patterned props looked as if they may come alive at any moment and crawl toward me, bra straps threateningly raised.

Squat Theatre's area showcased a hanging severed head amongst posters and photographs documenting the group's plays. As someone with a bit of a dummy/doll phobia, this mask will leave me haunted for weeks. A large-scale mural of a demonic child played a film of a naked woman contorting her body into impossible positions - through its eyes. A Freudian reference?

While I did not understand much of the exhibition, I was at the very least relieved that the quirky art in the show stood out much more than my lack of a costume.

Shot at The Whitney Museum of American Art. Photos by Rachel Kozin and Nicole Weiler. Wearing {a somewhat festive Halloween pick... black seems to always do the trick!}:

Phillip Lim sheer black silk top, mandarin garnet yellow gold ring, stacked yellow gold diamond pinky rings, diamond solitaire necklace {my design}, dangling diamond/blue sapphire/tanzanite yellow gold necklace {my design}

chris' cape cod tomatoes.

Beauty is present in the simplest of things. Over the summer I was inspired by the humble beauty in a cluster of freshly-picked, juicy-red  tomatoes. Resting atop a crisp white tablecloth with bright blue lines dancing across its folds, the tomatoes glowed in the warm afternoon light.

I have been painting with pastels for almost fifteen years. Growing up, I spent my summers training one-on-one with artist Rosalie Nadeau in Cape Cod. A talented and thoughtful mentor, Rose taught me to truly see light, shadow, and the complexities of color.

Pastels are pure pigment. Rich sticks of color that can be layered, blended, and manipulated to capture the splendor of the natural world. When painting, I utilize my color palette to express the presence of my subject, the general feel of the moment as I experience it, the fleeting luminosity of light as it colors the scene before me.

There is a beauty and a sadness in the painting process. The painter races to capture the impossible, a brief moment of time that passes instantly and immediately becomes something new. Light fades, flowers wilt, a breeze alters the arch of a branch.

Nothing is permanent. Every moment is important.

a night at the museum.

The Whitney Museum hosted an opening party for its newest exhibition, "Robert Indiana: Beyond Love," on Wednesday night. The retrospective explores the span of Indiana's work, featuring everything from an assortment of boxy Western-feeling sculptures to advertisement inspired paintings rife with coded messages to twinkling signs emblazoned with tiny flickering light bulbs.

Prior to the show, I knew very little of Indiana's work beyond the well-known "LOVE" pieces. The show, which runs through January 5th, provides an informative background on the 1960's Pop artist who so thoroughly explored the themes of Americana, road signage, and advertising.

Indiana's work feels a bit cold to me; I could not get a sense of the artist's hand in the pieces and had a hard time emotionally connecting with anything. Despite my feelings, I was completely engrossed by Indiana's art. The words, sentences, numbers, and symbols embedded in his pieces leave much for the imagination. I felt myself perplexed and intrigued by many of the artworks, desperately trying to solve the puzzle before me.

Also on view (through Ocober 6th) was "Hopper Drawing," an exhibition exploring Edward Hopper's creative process. As an artist, this show in particular spoke to me. Seeing Hopper's preliminary drawings next to his finished masterpieces allowed me to connect with the work in a personal, intimate way. I was able to get a sneak peak into the rough process that led to the immaculate finished painting and was reminded that not everything is perfect the first time around (or ever for that matter...)

What blew me away most of the Hopper exhibit was the juxtaposition of rough sketches with finished works. So often museums and art organizations present artwork in a sterile, calculated manner - perfectly framed and positioned on a bleak white wall with a rope or piece of tape blocking the viewer from getting too close - that can alienate the spectator. The experience of viewing any artwork is so influenced by the context in which the artwork is presented, and the Hopper exhibit allowed me the chance to feel less intimated by the paintings due to the incorporation of his humble, imperfect drawings.

Hopper's "Early Sunday Morning" was also presented on the original easel it was painted on - which Hopper actually built himself. Again, the presentation of the painting differed from the expected and also connected the painting with a sense of the artist. I could not tear myself away from the work.... but was forced to due to closing time.

I left feeling inspired to create, even if my work isn't perfect the first time around.

Shot at The Whitney Museum of American Art. Photos by Nicole Weiler and Chris Weiler. Wearing {wearable art, the pants remind me of an Abstract Expressionist painting... and feature a customizable zippered "skirt" at the back, an outfit that instantly makes me feel daring and inspired}:

Iris & Ink navy cashmere sweater, 3.1 Phillip Lim silk print pants, Vince blue suede heels, Loeffler Randall color block bag, an assortment of gold and silver jewelry