For the Love of Dog

Susie Wolf by June Glasson (2022)

Studio 44
2290 E. Walnut Street
Pasadena, CA. 91107
(626) 437-3390
Intagram: @studio44_la

For the Love of Dog
Opening Reception: Saturday Oct 15th 4 - 6pm

Studio 44 is thrilled to present the group exhibition, For the Love of Dog, about dogs and the people who love them. Co-curated by Anne-Elizabeth Sobieski & Leigh McCarthy, the show is the second for Studio 44's project space. The exhibition includes work by Rebecca Campbell, Kim Dingle, June Glasson, Kyla Hansen, Micol Hebron, and Lindsey Ross.

The show will run from October 15th to October 29th and will be available for additional viewing Weds, Oct. 19th through Saturday Oct 22nd from 11 am to 2 pm or by appointment.

The exhibition’s title is a play on, “For the love of God,” first published in 1846 in Edgar Allen Poe’s short story, The Cask of Amontillado. Dogs are referred to as man’s best friend for good reason – they create an oxytocin loop and indelible bond with their humans. An unexpected result of the pandemic led to record high adoption rates of dogs. They can ease anxiety, alert seizures, detect low blood sugar before humans are aware of their internal changes themselves. Like its ancestor the wolf, dogs are social creatures. 

There is a rich history of dogs' symbolic, mythic, and religious meaning in the canon of art history. Paintings of dogs date back to the earliest cave paintings. In ancient times, statues of dogs flanked graves to protect their owners from harm in the afterlife. During the Renaissance, Noble portraits were painted with dogs as allegorical symbols of faith, loyalty, as well as status. Today, because of their heightened senses, canines can fulfill many roles to serve as faithful companions, beloved family members, hunters, herders, trackers, and fierce protectors. What dogs mean to you – is really in the eye of the beholder. 

Campbell’s work references the close familial bonds with her delicate portrait of her son with their dog. There are a few selections from Dingle’s large archive of work about dogs including painted portraits and “coffee table books” depicting her fond memories. Sobieski’s charcoal work, Bear Aaarf, reveals the ferocious face of a dog which serves the dual role as a family pet and protector. McCarthy’s painting, Mt Frankie, turns a portrait into an abstraction. 

Domestic dogs share 99 percent of their DNA with the gray wolf. Several artists in the show reference the powerful archetype of the undomesticated wolf. Glasson’s work, Susie Wolf,  relates to the mythic symbolism of a she-wolf. Hansen titled her quilted denim work, Know The Wolves That Hunt You. Hebron’s, Mother of Dog, includes her beloved, Klaus, in a reversal of the mythic portrait of Romulus and Remus suckling a she-wolf. Hebron’s work also relates to her ongoing challenge to social media censorship in her Digital Pasty/Gender Equity initiative.

For more information, please contact Studio 44 at aesobieski@gmail.com.

Hope to see you there.

AE + Leigh  

Studio 44
2290 E. Walnut Street
Pasadena, CA. 91107
(626) 437-3390

Fragile Latitudes

the great escape, ink on paper, 20 x 16 inches

I’m delighted to participate in the Fragile Latitudes exhibition at the Step Gallery, Arizona State University, this autumn. The exhibition will feature my work, the great escape, which was inspired by my Arctic artist residency.

Exhibition Dates: 13 – 29 September 2018
Private View/Reception: 21 September 2018
Exhibition Venue: Step Gallery, Arizona State University, Grant Street Studios, AZ 85004

Fragile Latitudes is a collaborative international exhibition addressing the parallels between two desert environments, one in the arctic latitudes of Svalbard and the other in the Sonoran desert.

This interdisciplinary exhibition proposes a contrast and comparison between two liminal desert environments, one cold and one hot. A frozen region, Svalbard, like Arizona, is defined as a desert. Although it is cold, it is arid. This arctic desert and the Sonoran desert share visual and geographic similarities. They are extreme and demanding environments, sustaining complex yet definitive ecosystems. Both regions have long vistas, big skies, and constrained chromatic landscapes. Because both environments are extreme, there is peril in venturing unprepared into the landscape. Both regions are unforgiving, yet fragile, sensitive barometers of environmental shifts. It is in environments such as these that the impacts of climate change are first revealed.

The environment is bigger than the individual, not containable, hostile, alien, and hauntingly beautiful.

The intent with this exhibition is to compare these environments in an exhibition pairing selected artists with similarly minded artists who have been inspired by these different desert locations; The artworks consist of photographs, videos, framed writing segments, music, poetry, drawings and small sculptural work.

The show will have both regional and local aspects, yet be international in scope. While some of the proposed artists address landscape, weather, and nature, others address the animals, people, and social structures that sustain themselves in extreme environments.

This exhibition has been conceived and curated by Professor Mary Neubauer, Arizon State University

A Salty Soul

Thanks so much to A Salty Soul for featuring me in their blog! 

All images courtesy of Leigh McCarthy. 

Happy Monday!  

Ready for some more inspiration and to learn about another awesome Salty Soul?  This girl is our dear friend and often partner in crime on Nantucket!  The photo on the right is me & Leigh on the beach, where we both love to be. She has energy like no other, is always up for an adventure and she is an incredibly talented artist.  We are SO excited to introduce you to Leigh McCarthy! 

One of our favorites from Leigh's Nantucket work. 

Q: You spend your summers on Nantucket and grew up near the ocean, how does this affect you as an artist and how you incorporate the ocean into your work? 

A: The sea incorporates itself into my work rather than the other way around. I grew up in LA and always visited my family on the East coast during the summer. When I discovered Nantucket, I just knew I found my happy place. It has such a fascinating past that I keep learning more and more about. The maritime history of Nantucket has inspired a lot of different work but it's not an intellectual thing, it just seeps into my pores. There is nothing I like more than walking over a sand dune and dropping into the most pristine beach you have ever seen. I hope it stays like this as long as possible, so I donate a portion of the proceeds of my work to the Nantucket Conservation Foundation to preserve it.  

Q: We hear you went to the same school as Damien Hirst. True story? 

A: Ha! That's true. I got my graduate degree at Goldsmiths College in London where Hirst studied art as an undergrad. Speaking of salty, Hirst became well known after suspending a 14-foot tiger shark in formaldehyde. I never thought I would be represented by the same gallery, but now we are both at the Samuel Owen Gallery! 

Q: Is it also true that your first exhibition was sponsered by David Bowie? 

A: Absolutely true! When I was in graduate school he hosted a show called Assembly for students in grad school studying fine art in London in a derelict school building in Stepney City. Students from a bunch of different schools joined forces from all over including Goldsmiths, Royal College, and Central Saint Martins. It was great.  

Q: You live this amazing life between Brooklyn and summers on Nantucket...how do you make this happen? It's a dream come true!

A: A few years ago, I was gearing up to go to the Arctic (you can find some of my pics are here) and thought being on Nantucket would be an ideal spot to test my new equipment in the elements. By the end of that summer, I had created a whole new body of work, got picked up by a local gallery, and had a show! I didn't expect so many good things to result, but it all seemed to fall into place after making the decision to be where I feel most inspired. 

Q: Last year you took an amazing trip to the Arctic? Tell us about the group you went out with and your favorite part of the journey?

A: The trip was part of a unique residency program called, the arctic circle Autumn Art & Science Expedition. I traveled for two weeks aboard a Norwegian Tall Ship with thirty other artists. It was pretty amazing to be on one of the only ships sailing in the Arctic archipelago of Svalbard. We could basically ask to do whatever we'd like in the name of art which was really freeing. 

A writer on the trip spent the night in a trapper's hut accompanied by two guides and a husky. After a brief transmission via walkie talkie, they walked to the top of a hill to wave goodnight. Their headlamps waved back and forth as they hiked in the fog, it looked just like a lighthouse. There was no way to capture it because it was so dark, but it's something I'll never forget. 

A: We love your work, how does one purchase? 

You can contact my studio directly to buy work at leighmccarthy.com. Or, if you are in Nantucket or Greenwich, CT you can stop by Samuel Owen Gallery to purchase my work. 

Q: Biggest piece of advice to others to pursue their dreams?

A: Quiet the inner critique, gather your courage, and make as many mistakes as possible. 

Into the Arctic — N Magazine

A big thanks to Nantucket Magazine for the recently published interview, Into the Arctic, where i discussed summer jobs, ghost ships, and all things Nantucket. Here's the link.

Gløgg Recipe

Scandinavians are consistently ranked the happiest people on earth. In 2017, Norwegians ranks first place in the World Happiness Report.  Their secret to enjoying frigid temps during the polar night is a love for all things cozy, and one of the key ingredients is mulled wine. Here is my mulled wine recipe, aka Gløgg, that I made for everyone aboard the Antigua during our Arctic adventure. It is even better when you drink it on deck and add disco lights and dancing. Enjoy!

Gløgg Recipe

Ingredients for the Infusion:

1/2 Zest of a naval orange

 1 1/2  cinnamon sticks

2-inch piece of ginger sliced

10 whole cloves

10 cardamom pods, cracked

1/2 - 3/4  cups caster sugar

1 cup water

1 bottle of dry red wine (Pinot Noir or Malbec) or 6 cups

2 cups ruby port

1 - 3 cups muscatel

1 cup brandy (or more to taste) I added Cognac

OPTIONAL ADDITIONS

to the combination: 1/2 cup raisins and/or 1/2 cup blanched, sliced almonds

DIRECTIONS

1) Crack the cardamom seed pods in a mortar and pestle. Grate the zest of an orange.

2) For the infusion add cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, orange zest, with water and sugar.

3) Warm over a medium-low flame and stir occasionally until it becomes a clear, golden syrup and all the sugar is dissolved. Let it simmer for about 10 minutes until the tiny bubbles become large bubbles. This caramelizes the sugar and adds a layer of flavor.

4) When your syrup is ready, you can either let it cool overnight or lower the flame and add the rest of the booze (wine, port, etc). I like to strain it so things aren’t floating around but you can skip this step. 

5) Taste. Heat on low with a lid so the alcohol doesn’t evaporate. If you wish, add more sugar or brandy or the juice of the orange to taste.

6) I skipped the almonds and raisins but Jana kept it classy by adding orange slices for garnish. You can serve your gløgg immediately (or bottle it or any leftovers). A month or two of aging really enhances the flavors.

Intensely sublime: An Interview with Frontrunner Magazine by Shana Beth Mason

I am excited to share a recent interview published by Frontrunner Magazine.

‘crossing’ (2017). Dye sublimation print on metal. 48 inches in diameter. Courtesy of the artist.

Have you ever heard of a “Pizzly”? Do you know what a Sailor’s Valentine looks like? Ever tried a glass of gløgg? Nope, me neither. But in a whirling, sensational fashion, filmmaker and photographer Leigh McCarthy has spun these seemingly alien elements into a critical lens on a very real, very fragile environment: the seas. Reaching down from the poles into the shores of Nantucket Sound, McCarthy’s photography documents both the melancholia and simmering hope provided by the majesty of the environs surrounding the Arctic and the Alaskan straits. McCarthy is refreshingly funny, straightforward, and candid about her experiences stemming from her studies at the University of Colorado (Boulder) to Goldsmiths in London stretching into her professional artistic practice.

I must say, your Arctic series struck me as slightly morbid, as if these were images we may never see again with the encroachment of climate change and relentless human activity.

(Laughs) I like to think of myself as an optimist. I wouldn’t call them morbid, because you can’t see the process of change in a static photo like wheelhouse. But it is a watershed moment, so I really lucked out to have the opportunity to visit the Arctic aboard a tall ship last October during The Arctic Circle residency program.

The Arctic feels intensely sublime, not just in the philosophical or aesthetic sense of being swallowed up by the immensity at the same time asyour nothingness, but in the physical sense of witnessing a moment when something is about to transform from one thing into another. The climate of the poles changes at twice the rate as the rest of the planet, so the opportunity to document this fragile ecosystem feels more urgent than ever.

In 1990, I traveled to Prince William Sound a year after the Exxon Valdez disaster. As I looked at the landscape I heard stories about what I could no longer see: otter rafts in their breeding grounds, blue mussels previously lining the shores, and birds missing from the sky. The landscape, on the surface, looked pristine. But during the clean up, they used fire hoses to wash the rocks which pushed the oil a few inches below the surface. Every now and then I would see paper towels and Windex bottles, remnants from the clean up. But the damaging effects of the oil spill were ever present. Experiencing this devastating loss profoundly impacted how I saw the Arctic.

Instead of me listening to stories, I would be the one telling the story of the disappearing landscape for those who will never have a chance to witness it, firsthand. We live in the Anthropocene, so whether or not the landscape looks majestic or not – it is shaped by man. There is no untouched landscape. Like the changes in Alaska, it is easy to miss the radical shift in the Arctic if you only look at the surface.

Do you feel a bit helpless and/or fatalistic when you’re confronted with beautiful, natural scenes or does it have the opposite effect for you?

Thinking about the Arctic before I went, in the abstract, just felt inherently melancholic. Looking at a photo of glaciers crumbling into the sea aches with loss, but in person it’s like watching fireworks go off. There really is nothing like standing in front of a massive glacier, on the deck of a 165-foot tall ship that could capsize at any moment if a large chunk of ice fell into the sea (glacier #7 and blomstrandbreen). It’s exhilarating, a little bit terrifying, but mostly awe-inspiring. I felt like a little kid sticking out their tongue to taste the wonder of snow for the first time. I felt a sense of agency being there and documenting the place. Really different than being a landlubber just thinking about all that is wrong in the world.

My mission was to document this place, so I was frustrated that my photos were never going to do this place justice. The first day I wondered if I should just put my camera down. What’s the point? The vastness. The scale. The cold. The smell. The crackling sounds. It is un-photographable.

‘harmony in blue’ (2017). Dye sublimation print on metal, 48 inches in diameter. Courtesy of the artist.

What moved you to choose the “tondo” method for your Nantucket photographs?

I wanted to make prints at a large scale that felt like portals to somewhere else. I just made an artist proof of ‘harmony in blue’ as big as possible (48 inches in diameter). At that scale, it looks like your looking through a big window but people often mistake my photos for a paintings.

My first print from the Porthole series was crossing, which came about accidentally when I was took a picture through a window of a ferry. The porthole series of dye-sublimation prints of Nantucket are circles inscribed in squares to both point to the porthole of ships, as well as make the frame evident in order to reveal the limits of our perception. My work goes back and forth between digital and analog quite a bit. The perfect border emphasizes the imperfect images blurred with salt crystals, water droplets, and dust. I think the blurriness can relate to memory – where the viewer fills in the rest.

‘the great escape’ (2010). Ink on paper, 20” x 16”. Courtesy of the artist.

Specific to the “tondo”, is it me, or do you suppose that there’s an undercurrent within contemporary art that yearns for the mathematical precision and crispness of the Renaissance/Mannerism?

Hmmm. Can we talk about “Pizzlies”?

One of the most fascinating harbingers of climate change are “Pizzly” Bears. The collapse of the Alaskan and Canadian ecosystems where Grizzlies and Polar bears roam has forced grizzlies north and polar bears south. In rare cases, they mate and create “pizzly” or “growler” bears that can reproduce. If a male polar bear mates a female grizzly bear and create pizzly cubs, the female would teach them how to hunt. As the pack ice dwindles, so does the polar bear’s opportunity to hunt for seals. Grizzlies are omnivores. If cubs learn how to hunt from a grizzly mother their chances of survival are much higher. It reminds me of the print I made years ago, the great escape, where people create unexpected escape hatches.

Nice one. I see what you did, there! Tell me more about the work “Sailor’s Valentine”: there is a fine cadre of photographers and painters who are keen on the metaphor of mirrors/duality as representative of the mariner.

sailor’s valentine (2008). Found wood, pencil on watercolor paper, antique glass, and antiqued hardware 30″ x 15”. Courtesy of the artist.

sailor’s valentine is a contemporary take on an old sailor’s tradition dating back to the 1830’s. There is an e.e. cummings quote, “For whatever we lose, (like a you or a me), it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.” I had the frame fabricated in found wood, and used antique glass so there is a ripple when you look at the message. I saw antique versions during the summer in Nantucket. They are usually octagons with ornate designs made up of tiny shells saying things like “Love thy giver”, “Everthine”, and “Forget me not when far away”. Sailors brought them back for their sweethearts. For years, I thought the sailors had made them, but they actually commissioned them from local artisans. A double sailor’s valentine is two octagons joined by hinges; when they are folded together, the glass front is protected along the journey as they traveled by ship. Nantucket was the base for whaling, and sailors would travel for years at a time.

Going from Boulder to Goldsmiths must surely have been a seismic shift for you in both theory and practice; I had a similar experience coming from Florida and doing my Masters in London. Could you pinpoint how those two modes of education has shaped your practice now?

Moving to England was like discovering I had been speaking a tonal language and was born tone deaf. I lived in Australia when I was a child. When I moved back to the States with an accent, kids asked me where I was from, which was really confusing to a 5 year-old. I had experienced culture shock early on, and that still influences my work.

During my undergraduate at Boulder, I studied cultural anthropology with a strong theoretic component. Little did I know that understanding cultural relativism helped me cope with living in England!  

Goldsmiths College in London is well-known for creating a slew of conceptual Young British Artists (YBAs). My background in theory was incredibly helpful. But education is much more self-driven and I felt adrift, at first. Basically, I had to readjust all of my American touch points. I attended classes with folks from all over: Brazilians, Icelanders, Brits, Japanese, the list could go on. I made a video there that referred to something from a US film; during my critique, I realized that everyone was clueless about what I was referencing. It forced me to reorient my work towards an international audience. It has been brilliant for my practice, but there were some intense growing pains along the way.

I was lucky enough to have a few studio visits with Cerith Wyn Evans. The first time I met him, I showed him some half-baked ideas and he responded by writing down the title of Foucault’s The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences, which discusses the organization of models of human perception and knowledge shifting from the Renaissance to the end of the 19th century. Up until that point, I really felt I was foundering in my studio visits. This one felt like a gift. He drew a line through to my anthropology background, which I couldnot see myself.

Hoisting the GRMI flag at Fjortende Julibukta. Photo credit courtesy of the artist.

Back to the subject of the Arctic, what is the Glacial Risk Management Institute? The homepage appears bitingly, brilliantly cynical. Or not?

The Glacial Risk Management Institute (GRMI) is two person collective that I formed with artist Angela Ellsworth in 2008. She’s hilarious and smart and we were both members of the LA Art Girls (LAAG) and in the midst of a six-month project. The Getty commissioned the LAAG to be a part of an ambitious six-part representation of Allan Kaprow’s performance of Fluids all over LA. There were a lot of moving parts to Overflow: A Reinvention of Allan Kaprow’s Fluids, and it was a little overwhelming to work on a project of that scale with such a big institution. So, we decided we would join forces, improvise, and poke some fun at the absurdity of it all. That is how the GRMI was born (via the Getty Research Institute GRI…wink wink, nudge nudge).

That project required creating an ice structure 30 feet long, 10 wide, and 8 high. Kaprow’s performance took place in 1967 and the structures stood for almost a week; our structure lasted less than an hour before it started to collapse. Unexpectedly, it turned out to be one of the hottest days on record and the structure completely melted by the end of the day.

Humor can be very subversive and is key to approaching big issues in a way that is palatable. Angela and I have continued to propose a lot of GRMI interventions that have gone unrealized. My favorite is ‘We Might be Snowmakers’. In order to reverse the retreat of Europe’s largest glacier, we proposed setting up a bunch of snow blowers. Angela made beautiful watercolors of the snow blowers, and I made a map showing where the snow machines would be placed. We never heard back from the folks we originally applied to, but our map and watercolors ended up on e-flux.

Angela couldn’t make it to the Arctic, but we did spitball the approach. We had a tradition of improvising, so it was left open-ended. I knew I wanted to serve gløgg, a magical, Nordic mulled wine concoction, to everyone on the boat, but I didn’t know when. I kept the booze under the bed in my cabin and when the boat would really rock, you could hear the bottles clinking. Luckily, none of them broke. On an especially hard day, I decided to serve the gløgg. I took out all the spices and booze and got to work after dinner, with some help. I hung a GRMI flag outside the porthole attached to the kitchen, and asked everyone to join me on deck for a GRMI-sponsored cup of gløgg. Someone surprised me by putting disco lights outside and it turned into an impromptu dance party, as well as one of my favorite nights.

I spoke with the Captain that night about raising the flag and he thought it was sacrosanct to fly it from the back of the boat, because that indicates which country the boat hails from. I don’t know how she did it, but somehow, the second mate convinced him to wrap up the Dutch flag and fly my flag instead the next day. He said he would take it down that night, but it flew on the back of the boat until the end of the trip. I’d giggle to myself when I looked up. I’m not so great at sewing and the “I” in GRMI had flew off during a gale.

Opening Reception

Friday August 11th
5-8 pm
Samuel Owen Gallery

Opening Reception // Friday August 11th  
5-8 pm @ the Samuel Owen Gallery

I am delighted to exhibit new work from my porthole series at my favorite gallery on island, the Samuel Owen Gallery. My new porthole series of dye-sublimation prints on metal are inspired by summers on Nantucket and the journey to and from the island that has become my second home. The 1947 International Dragon sailboat, ELSKA, featured in the print above won the Opera Cup in 2008. To preserve this beautiful place, I will donate a portion of my sales to the Nantucket Conservation Foundation.

For more information contact the gallery at 508.680.1445 or email ack@samuelowen.com.

Samuel Owen Gallery 
46 Centre Street
Nantucket, MA 02554
ack@samuelowen.com