I GET LOST
A Project
Presented to the faculty of the Department of Art
California State University, Sacramento
Submitted in partial satisfaction of
the requirements for the degree of
MASTER OF ARTS
in
Art Studio
by
Jeffrey Michael Mayry
SPRING
2014
©2014
Jeffrey Michael Mayry
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ii
I GET LOST
A Project
by
Jeffrey Michael Mayry
Approved by:
__________________________________, Committee Chair
Andrew Connelly, M.F.A.
__________________________________, Second Reader
Ian Harvey, M.F.A.
____________________________
Date
iii
Student: Jeffrey Michael Mayry
I certify that this student has met the requirements for format contained in the University format
manual, and that this project is suitable for shelving in the Library and credit is to be awarded for
the project.
__________________________, Graduate Coordinator
Andrew Connelly, M.F.A.
Department of Art
iv
___________________
Date
Abstract
of
I GET LOST
by
Jeffrey Michael Mayry
My work is the result of everything that lives inside of my heart and everything that
is inside of my head. These two polarities have the ability to align themselves in such a
way that they can act in perfect unity. They also have the need to conflict with each
other. My heart encourages me to let go of things. It tells me that I cannot control life,
and that I must give up control and find how things are supposed to end up. My head is
riddled with anxiety, fear, ugliness and lust. Both sides must show themselves in my
work.
_______________________, Committee Chair
Andrew Connelly, M.F.A.
_______________________
Date
v
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
List of Figures ........................................................................................................................ vii
HEARTS ALIVE ...................................................................................................................... 1
THE RIVER .............................................................................................................................. 5
TIGHTROPE ............................................................................................................................ 8
LANGUAGE………………………………………………………………………………….11
CHRISTMAS DESERT MORNING…………………………………….…………………...14
EVERYTHING INTERNALLY……………………………………………………………...15
TRANSFORMATION………………………...……………………………………………...20
WORKS CITED........................................................................................................................25
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LIST OF FIGURES
Figures
Page
1.
Mother, 2013, oil on canvas, 60x84 inches.………………..……………………………3
2.
Accomplishment Bodies, 2013, oil on canvas, 54x74 inches…………..…………….….4
3.
Paul, 2013, oil on canvas, 74x54 inches………………………………………………..7
4.
Frail Bark, 2014, oil on canvas, 84x66 inches……………………………..........……..10
5.
Blood and Milk, 2013, oil on canvas, 84x48 inches.………………………..……….....12
6.
Move To The Woods, 2014, oil on canvas, 54x84 inches………….......……………….13
7.
Hair Paintings (Lust), 2014, oil on canvas, 48x72 inches ………………........…….….17
8.
How Will I Know What I Am, 2013, oil on canvas, 72x96 inches……………………...18
9.
Separate Myself From My Body, 2014, oil on canvas, 72x96 inches…………...……...19
10.
Took Off Her Riding Boots, 2013, oil on canvas, 96x72 inches......................................22
11.
Grey Gauze (Soul’s Airplanes), 2013, oil on canvas, 72x144 inches…………………..23
12.
Apple, 2014, oil on canvas, 66x96 inches…………………………..…………...……...24
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1
HEARTS ALIVE
The root of my work is the carrying over of a constant narrative that has been at
the heart of my paintings, since the very beginning. The heart or content stems from the
understanding, or in some cases the lack of understanding, of life in relation to the past,
present, and most importantly the future. The future, for all who are living, is uncertain.
Life itself is incomplete and filled with the constant feeling that something is missing.
We are all works in progress that are waiting to be finished.
Painting fills in my empty spaces. The act of painting has allowed me to
understand that my happiness and pain are my greatest insights. My paintings have acted
as a catalyst for my own self-exposure, exposing me to not only myself but to the viewer.
I have learned many things about myself from painting, both good and bad. The most
important thing that I have learned is how capable I have become. Through making
paintings I am turning into the person that I always thought I would be.
I am not searching for the truth of what it means to be alive. I just want to stay
alive. Not in a physical sense. I want my heart to stay alive, to live life as a series of
projects. “I’m with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our
souls’ airplanes roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital
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illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry spangled
shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we are free.”1
1
Ginsberg, Howl, 12.
3
Figure 1. Mother, 2013, oil on canvas, 60x84 inches.
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Figure 2. Accomplishment Bodies, 2013, oil on canvas, 54x74 inches.
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THE RIVER
The summer of 2013 was a huge turning point for my work in the studio and
outside of the studio. As the summer progressed I came to the realization that the
forming of rituals before entering the studio had become of equal importance to the act of
entering the studio to paint. I began each day by reading for an uncalculated amount of
time. Sometimes I would read for twenty minutes, other times I would read for a few
hours. I bounced back between Rimbaud’s Illuminations, and Ginsberg’s Howl. There
were times that I read several poems from each book and other times that I read a small
passage over and over. After reading I would go to the river, doing this simply because
it was summer and it was very hot outside. I could have never dreamt that this act of
common sense would inform my practice as graciously as the water did. To feel the
water refresh my skin became a necessity for me before I began painting. It became a
baptism that allowed the remission of any residual stress or anxiety and provided me with
a cleansing to refresh myself before entering the studio to paint. The cool water removed
the wrinkles from my skin.
The seven paintings that I completed over that summer became individual acts of
patience. Each painting that I made revealed itself to me, sometimes it took weeks, other
times it took days, “ flowers which as in a dream at sunset, I watered faithfully not
knowing how much I loved them”.2 The paintings are moments of alleviation from
things that otherwise result in the suffocation of one’s inner peace. These paintings also
2
Ginsberg, Howl, 17.
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brought to light the importance of these suffocating feelings, the importance of the
opposition.
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These things existed in me long before I ever made a painting. Time gave them meaning
through an accidental outlet. The search of course had many stops and turns that were
sometimes very manic—other times a distinct covering up of things, a manipulation and
control.
The forceful nature of the ego is a false compass, but you do have to get lost so you can
be found. A gritty tooth compared to a pristine sheen of pearly white are so different, they
need to know each other. One cannot exist without the other. They — in their true form —
allow each other to expose their true nature.
The place that I was searching for was the place that I had already been, the place that
was smothered under everything that you forced yourself to carry around for no purpose.
The realization that they can be put down makes you realize that they should be left in
specific places. With this they built windows and pockets of open air.
Then it begins to taste so good that we can breathe.
7
Figure 3. Paul, 2013, oil on canvas, 74x54 inches.
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TIGHTROPE
The term struggles should never be received in a negative light, especially when
they are struggles in the studio. They can be handled and kept at bay but eventually they
will always slowly resurface. My struggles are reminders of where I have come from, and
push me to understand where I want to go. They allow me recognize what I feel are the
most important parts of my paintings, and to understand my process and its relation to the
images I am creating.
If there is one thing that I know for sure; I know how to suck the life out of a
painting – compulsive overworking – suffocation. This is my main struggle; how can I
recognize the moment that a painting shows its face to me? So many times I have
overworked a painting, making countless compositions on one canvas until the original
marks that I was once so excited about are unrecognizable. This struggle is certainly
linked to a need that comes and goes; the need to perfect things, and to over manipulate
things. For my individual practice this need must always be remembered, as it is my
biggest concern.
I love starting new paintings. The first week is when I feel completely free. I
don’t feel pressured to be analytical. The only thing that I care about is how it feels. This
is the time where my process is the most physical. It is the moment where I feel that my
body is the greatest tool that I will ever know. I like to use my whole body to make a
brush stroke. I want to always subconsciously consider the way I will alter my anxious
approach to the canvas. To be aware how the mark is beginning and the directions to
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where it is traveling. How will I exit the canvas? What will the final moment of the brush
stroke be upon that exit? I do not want to premeditate these moments. I want to be present
with work and recognize these moments as they are happening to me. It is an enthralling
experience.
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Figure 4. Frail Bark, 2014, oil on canvas, 84x66 inches.
11
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LANGUAGE
My paintings coalesce as a series of pictorial vocabularies that converge, overlap,
converse, collapse, and change one another with their presence. These vocabularies build
themselves out of one another. They become fluid in their own nature as they connect and
disconnect from one another. This disconnect does not become an absolute form of
separation. Sometimes when one object disconnects from the other, they are just choosing
to respond or communicate in a different manner.
Color, marks and forms change each other. They communicate and they respond
to one another. They affect one another just as people change each other as they weave
their way in out of lives. Sometimes they are arriving, leaving or returning. In their unmanipulated state they act as themselves, existing, reacting, and happening, to one
another.
The world and the life that these compositions contain are entering and exiting,
destroying and rebuilding, letting go but not giving up. There is death and rebirth, and a
changing of seasons. All ends are a means of beginning.
13
Figure 5. Blood and Milk, 2013, oil on canvas, 84x48 inches.
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Figure 6. Move To The Woods, 2014, oil on canvas, 54x84 inches.
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CHRISTMAS DESERT MORNING
During winter break I went to Las Vegas to visit my family. For many years I
have split my time between Las Vegas and Sacramento. My mother and my sisters have
lived there for many years. When I was younger I remember being taken aback by the
difference in climates and landscapes that occurred when I would get off the plane. It is a
short flight, but the change from where I was coming from and then arriving was
astonishing. The city itself is less than impressive. It is the desert that surrounds it that
has always captivated me.
My love for the desert is a visual one but more importantly I understand that
above all things it has become a feeling. Spread across the barren terrain joshua trees and
other plant life continue to live despite the dry and desolate heat. This life has had no
choice but to fight to become what it will to survive. The plateaus end at cliffs, the rocks
themselves separate from each other in ways that you just know they were once held
together as one. A time came when they were no longer in control and fell mercy to
natural formation. The desert is vulnerable and open, but is also ruthless in its
transformation. It needs to grow, and it needs to evolve at any cost. There is a
commonality between a natural and circumstantial evolution, and the creation of
paintings. An organic, natural progression combined with the abandonment of the human
need to perfect things resulting in the shaping of forms that reveal truth, and
understanding. They teach us what it means to be alive. They speak volumes to the
important parallel between lived experiences and the subconscious.
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EVERYTHING INTERNALLY
These Paintings are the result of everything that is in my heart, and everything
that is in my head. The heart and the head have the ability to align themselves in such a
way that they can act in unity. They also have the need to conflict with each other. My
heart encourages me to let go of things. It tells me that I cannot control life, and that I
must give up control and find how things are supposed to end up. My head is riddled with
anxiety, fear, ugliness and lust. Both sides must show themselves in my work.
Sometimes they arrive all at once. Other times they arrive singularly. It has been my
natural intention to conceal my fear and despair, and to replace it with hope. I no longer
want to conceal anything in my paintings. I want them to be honest and true. Self
exposure can be uncomfortable on many levels, it is uneasy to present oneself in human
form. However there is a beauty in imperfection when all facades are broken down.
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I hugged you outdoors
Then smelled like you for 3 hours
That shit hung on for a while
3 hours of sweating in the sun
Filling my lungs with tobacco smoke
Bathed myself in it
Smell disgustingly normal again
With my dried out raisin face
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Raspy voice clogged with congealed smoker phlegm
Panic
Attached a crank to the flower pot
Full of dead flowers
Turned the crank as fast I could
As long as I could
Still dead
Ever heard of water
18
Figure 7. Hair Paintings (Lust), 2014, oil on canvas, 48x72 inches.
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Figure 8. How Will I Know What I Am, 2013, oil on canvas, 72x96 inches.
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Figure 9. Separate Myself From My Body, 2014, oil on canvas, 72x96 inches.
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TRANSFORMATION
When I began this program two years ago it was my understanding that painting
was an evolution. Each piece built upon the next. The work would slowly change with
each piece, however the forms would remain at the core or their origins. In my final
semester I realized there was no longer an evolution. My content had not changed. The
forms had become reincarnated. Just like myself, my paintings longed to live new lives.
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Most days I go to the river. I throw stones into the water. Some of them sink. Their
impression on the water is a short life as they make their way to the rivers bottom— they
will live again. Some of them skip across the moving glass surface, creating ripples that
gently push their way into one another, intersecting, shifting things, and shaping things.
I sit on the beach with Mo, my constant companion. Our feet placed deep in the sand.
Most times we don’t say much. We sit; we smoke, feeling the irreplaceable tactile nature
of things. We stand and walk to a steep cluttered path. Instantly we both take off running
up the hill. Our arms outstretched—I can sense the vastness of our wingspans. We run
towards the bright white light of the sun. The tallest green grass that lines the hilly path
licks the dried palms of our hands. We come to an abrupt halt. Our feet stutter backwards
as pieces of the soft earth tumble over the edge— the path has cancelled itself at the edge
22
of a cliff. Reflections of ourselves, and our surroundings cascade across the river. The
water serves us the sky.
Whatever is out there, I hope that she will allow me to live more than once. To feel the
desperate passion of rats. To belong to the hearts of lions. To have the soul of an
earthworm.
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Figure 10. Took Off Her Riding Boots, 2013, oil on canvas, 96x72 inches.
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Figure 11. Grey Gauze (Soul’s Airplanes), 2013, oil on canvas, 72x144 inches.
25
Figure 12. Apple, 2014, oil on canvas, 66x96 inches.
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WORKS CITED
Allen Ginsberg, Howl. San Francisco: City Lights Press, 1956.