There Once Was a Gazebo

Me in the Shadow


Collaborative Concepts

The FARM PROJECT 2014

August 30-October 31

@ Saunders Farm
853 Old Albany Post Road

Garrison NY 10524

Sculpture Installations by over 50 artists

Opening Reception

Saturday, August 30, 2014, 2-6:00pm

(Rain date Sunday August 31)

Mid-Run Reception

Saturday,September 27, 2014, 2-6:00pm

(Raindate Sunday September 28)
Opera, Theater, Dance

Collaborative Concepts, a not-for-profit arts organization, has curated more than 40 exhibitions in galleries and outdoor settings in the Hudson Valley.

Collaborative Concepts, in its ninth season at Saunders Farm, invited local and national artists to place sculptures throughout 140 acres of a working historic farm in Garrison, NY.  Located across the Hudson River from West Point, the rolling hills and wooded glens of Saunders Farm culminate in panoramic views of the Hudson Highlands. Black Angus cattle can be seen grazing peacefully in stone-walled pastures.

Open daily to the public free of charge dawn to dusk

Collaborative website    845.528.1797

Collaborative on Facebook

גאָטעניו, בין איך נאָר אַ משולח עפֿשער אַ לערערין פֿון צײַט צו צײַט, און אַ טרײסלער.  לאָז מיך זיך באַטרעפֿן

I'm not translating most of this, in keeping with my use of Yiddish in my art as my hidden journals, and "making lace", using the Hebrew alphabet as a visual component.  

But the last sentence, loz mikh zikh batrefn, which I have stretched to mean, Let me fulfill myself, has engendered a very interesting conversation about the meaning of the word batrefn.

My Yiddish is far from perfect, but my thoughts are: The word "to meet" is trefn.  The word batrefn means "to amount to", as in: this pile of gold amounts to a lot of money.  The word zikh is reflexive. One day a friend in a Yiddish class organized a trip to a Yiddish movie, to meet there at 3, and he wrote, lomir zikh batrefn 3 a zeyger.  I thought it should read, lomir zikh trefn 3 a zeyger, let's meet at 3 o'clock, but I ran to the dictionary, and said, Yes! Let's amount to ourselves at 3 o'clock!  I've since used the term over and over, that I might zikh batrefn.  It has become a mantra.
 

I'd like also to include a wonderful work by my dear friend Johanna Gilman, who reports that her mother use batrefn to mean "meet".

Lost in Infinity

I have a show up in my local library, Morningside Branch, 113th and Broadway in Manhattan.  It's called Lost in Infinity, and some of the works have that title too.

It's a small intimate place, and I think it's my favorite show ever.  The 11 drawings are on the staircase wall, but the staircase is an interior one, well lit, open to view for its whole length to both the ground floor and the main reading room.  Anyone going up or down the stairs cannot avoid seeing my work

                                   Lost in Infinity 2, mixed mediums, 23" x 28"

Someone who I don't know has written poetry to my work in the book I left there for messages.  Then today I received a wonderful letter from someone who came for books and found art, and was moved enough by what he saw to write to me.  It made me very happy.  He also pointed out that the contact email on my website and the one on the handout at the library were not the same.

Indeed.  I had made an error on my website.  So I wrote to that address to see if it's real, and my message did not come back Undeliverable, while my research indicates that nobody else has that address either.  Which means that possibly mail intended for me is being lost in infinity!  What sort of perfect is that!

Making Lace

It happens that I frequently write journal entries, but they usually say the same things, day in, day out, and year in, year out, with some things specific to the day, on occasion.  I weep in them and I laugh, because that's how my days go.  Sometimes I can’t say for sure if I’m happy or really down. 

I could throw my writing away, but a better idea is to combine the things I love – art, Yiddish, and writing, all together.   I write words, mostly in Yiddish, on top of the words I’ve just written.  You can’t read them, and I can’t either.  All of them are called “Making Lace”.  I’ve lost track of how many, so I assign them random numbers. I have several examples already in this blog, but here’s today’s.   Making Lace, 15

Returning

It's been a long long time.  I'm hoping to be back.

Making Lace, aquatint and etching, 8 page state book

By Invitation Only

By Invitation Only.  Please Knock Before Entering
Cardboard, polymer clay, wire, text.
9" x 10" x 3.5"

This is the sculpture that I showed in the group exhibition Meet My Uterus, at Ceres Gallery, New York City, January 8 through February 2, 2013.  The show, and my work, addressed the comments made by several men running for office in the fall of 2012 regarding rape and pregnancy, and the attempt in general by some legislators to eclipse women's control over our own bodies.


francineperlman.com

Wind

Sandy Day 1 Monday October 29 3 P.M.

From the Tree House Window

Threads of Shabos

A friend told me about a story she heard from a once-Orthodox man, that when he was a child, the end of shabos, Saturday, was determined not by a clock but by the moment when one could no longer distinguish a red thread from a green thread in the evening light.  Now I think he said “someone”, no doubt meaning the same someone every week, who went out from the synagogue every few minutes, and held up the threads in the waning light, and when he himself could no longer distinguish green from red, he went back inside and announced that shabos was over.   The beauty in this story belongs to this privileged man, because the perception of color is profoundly affected by one’s mood, by one’s emotions.  And I imagine that he didn’t need to go outside too many times, because at that moment in his devotion when the feeling came on him that shabos was drifting away, he went outside and could not tell the green from the red.

Green and red are complements on the color wheel, that is, they sit opposite each other.  Here’s the traditional color wheel  concept (in a very lovely rendition by Jill Morton) for pigments (though not for computer graphics):  the three primary colors, red, blue, and yellow, can’t be derived by mixing other colors, something like primary numbers, and theoretically you only need these three.  You make secondary colors, green, orange, and purple, by mixing the two primaries next to them, and with judicious mixing you can have all the colors you could ever want.

When two complements are side by side in an image, or in your dress, or in nature, they enhance each other.  They maximize the contrast.  So you put your tomatoes in a green box to make them look very red, and you hold up a red and a green thread in diminishing light to be absolutely certain that shabos has quietly slipped away for the week.

Two Ladders

Once again, out into the forest for maintaining our trail.  Two ladders:  one is a piece that I happily own, a ladder made by artist Judy Hoffman (not in the forest) from hand-made hand-dyed rolled paper, 12” high.  The other is a ladder made by a vine that sends its tendrils out and they wrap themselves opportunistically around whatever they come across, even a sibling twig, and they grow thick and build a solid wall.  Those walls, of course, we had to hack away to clear the path.  In the process, I saved this beautiful ladder, 18” high.   

Judy Hoffman's Ladder, with detail

 

Nature's Ladder, found complete in the forest, with detail

 

    Two Fine Ladders