Open Studios Without The Studio?

One of the main points of Open Studios is for people to be able to see the artist in that artist's studio. In that way the visitor hopes to gain some insight into how the work of art was created. You see the artist's magic wand, excuse me, brushes and other tools. What kind of surroundings do you need to give those creative juices a push? Maybe you will discover that when you visit. Cornered in his, or her studio the artist might divulge the secrets of art that will aid in unlocking the hidden meanings. Okay, you get the point.

So what happens when a flood prevents access to the studio? In this case we have moved the artist. This year, and we dearly hope it will only be this year, Open Arts has found a space in Boulder for the mountain artists to occupy for the duration of Open Studios. With the mountain community almost cut off from the flatland community, it was a hard decision to make - do we stay in our community with our friends and neighbors, or take a chance to make new friends in the larger community? With regrets, we decided to take the chance. Unfortunately, we couldn't take our studios with us. Outside of our studios, away from the protection of our brushes and magic paints, we will undoubtedly feel somewhat threatened, exposed, or even worse, panicked that no one will visit us. Please visit us and bring friendly faces with you. Our door will be open.

What: Open Studios, or in this case: Open un-Studios
When: October 5,6,12,& 13th from Noon to 6pm
Where: 2740 Canyon Boulevard (corner of Canyon & 28th), Boulder, CO.

Devastation and Resilience

As I write this, water is still pouring down the rivers and streams. The surrounding area has been hit hard by torrential floods. Homes have been washed away and many have been severely damaged, entire towns have been evacuated and stranded victims airlifted out. So far, thankfully, deaths have been minimal, especially compared to similar disasters in other parts of the world, nevertheless, many lives have been severely disrupted.

Luckily, people are resilient and so is their spirit. Some people will leave this community, saying "This is it- fires, floods, what's next: pestilence, brimstone?", but most will stay. They will pick up the pieces and rebuild their homes and lives. Business will be good for those working in construction and repair.  Artists will pick up the pieces and create art with them, literally. Artists are good at recycling.

 A woman was evacuated from Lyons just in time to give birth. So too will the devastation give birth to new works of art. Art will be created depicting the floods, the changed landscape, the new structures, people rebuilding & playing. Musicians will transform the sounds of the rain and rushing water into music. Stories will be told by writers more eloquent than I. Out of destruction comes beauty, as we endeavor to bring  meaning to our lives. Art helps to heal and rebuild the community as much as wood and nails do, because it embodies our resilience and uplifts our spirits.

My heart goes out to all, who have lost their homes and possessions and to those looking for loved ones. I hope you find them safe and sound.

Vivian Long

Bryan Long on "Art and Transience"

Once a year, I am an artist.  I transform large orange pumpkins into Halloween Jack-o-Lanterns.  The low-watt fluorescent bulbs inside them light up grotesques or careful portraits, sailing ships or zebras, or even the entire Earth, rotating slowly on its axis.  It usually takes me about four full days of scraping and carving to have them on display a day or two before October 31st.  For a few days, I am celebrated for my work. Hundreds of trick-or-treaters and parents marvel and comment, take pictures, and sometimes remember and comment on prior years’ work as well.  By the 2nd of November, the pumpkins are turning soft and mouldy, and are unceremoniously transferred to my compost bins.  

I do not mind.  If they lasted I would become bothered by the flaws, tired of their persistence.  All art is transient, of course.  Even the carefully preserved Rembrandt will not last forever. But there is something poignant to me in art that cannot be preserved, but lasts only a few hours or days, and then dissipates.  The amazing transient art of Andy Goldwater touches me deeply. It reminds me that my life is hardly different; I am born, I live and love, and die within a lifetime that is but an hour in the scope of human history, and but a nanosecond in the scope of life.  

Each day I wake from unconsciousness, and my identity is reconstructed, my life remembered.  “Permanent” art helps to tie us to our personal and cultural past; it is a memory that helps us reconstruct ourselves in a continuum of culture, a context larger than our present existence, a meaning larger than ourselves.  Permanent art breaks our fixation on our small lives, and brings us into a larger scope of history and meaning.  Transient art slaps us back into the present moment, and reminds us that we have only this day in which to know and appreciate that larger context.  To be here now.  

Art is not for art’s sake, but for ours.  To know ourselves as larger than ourselves.

Bryan Long

www.econosystemics.com