Archive for the ‘Overman’ Category
On the 5th of February, 2011, photographer Anna Karpinski gathered the musicians of Charlottetown, PEI, Canada together for a historic photo shoot (ala. Art Kane’s 1958 photo ‘A Great Day in Harlem’.)
This video installation by Millefiore Clarkes onethousandflowers.tv documents the occasion.
This video, the photograph, and other related artworks were exhibited at the Confederation Centre Art Gallery in the show Warming Up. confederationcentre.com/en/exhibitions-archive-read-more.php?exhibition=21
written by Becka Viau
This town is small would like to congratulate all of the poets and artists that participated in the Island Poems: a collaborative art project! The show was a true success. It was amazing to see such diversity in subject and media, as well as the incredible amount of artists that participated!
This Project was our first collaboration with Peake Street Studios and the PEI Writers’ Guild and I have to say it was a very rewarding process.This town is small would like to thank Donnalee Downe from Peake Street and Yvette Doucette from the Writers’ Guild for all of their efforts in making this happen … including initiating the collaboration!
this town is small has put all of the poems and artworks up on the Island Poems page, in hopes that it will serve as a digital catalogue of the exhibition. Please visit the page and read the poems and view the artwork.
If you would like to see installation photographs of the exhibit please visit here.
If you would like to hear an interview from CBC Mainstreet about the exhibition please visit here.
I encourage the artists to send us an email with links to their web pages so we can link their work from this show to more information about them on the net.
Congratulations on an excellent show! We look forward
written by Overman
In a previous post I spoke about the distinction between design and creation. I mentioned that I would have trouble putting my brand on something that my hands did not create.
I think I may be forced to revise that statement.
I am currently supplying about 15 stores with my products, and should be at about 25 stores by the end of the summer. Not to mention that I have been once again been accepted into the One of a Kind Christmas show in Toronto. (A topic I should have written a post about.)
I find myself very busy and I think in the coming months I may need someone willing to work very part time hours putting together some of my wholesale pieces. This will free up some of my time so I can continue to work on my one of a kind and statement pieces.
So, I guess if you’re interested in working in a basement with a weirdo, send your resume to firstname.lastname@example.org
Members of this town is small will be given priority.
written by Becka Viau
It was the middle of the night when Marie Fox first approached me about a possible collaboration with this town is small. A model lay still, chained to a bed. Painters painted the surreal scene surrounded by a captivated audience. Imaginations were buzzing and I could feel energy starting to spill out of people’s heads, through their mouths into inspirational and creative conversations. Swimming about the atmosphere I soon found myself shaking hands and locking eyes with the electric Ms. Fox, and so the story of Iris begins.
After a quick meeting with Marie, I began the search for possible collaborators. This can be a daunting task in a city packed full of creative minds, hands and spirits however, the lead creative team came together like a flash of lightening: Marie Fox, John Mackenzie, Jenn Richard-Coupland, Kelly Caseley and I. By the end of July a tentative list of all collaborators was written, the date was booked at the Alibi and notice of the event was sent to the Buzz. Time to start creating.
written by Allison Cooke
On Thursday, This Town Is Small presented an extremely unique artist collaboration. The Alibi Lounge was gracious enough to transform their space into another world, filled with dark lighting and woodland props. The audience mingled about in anticipation, each discussing the possibilities of the evening ahead of them. Even while two players in leather fox masks entered to simply set the scene, the audience found themselves captured, waiting patiently to see the creation take place. Curious bodies began to fill the room, all with the same plan. To let their imaginations run wild.
Following artist Marie Fox’s vision of the passage into change and wonder, 12 local artists donated their various talents and “Iris Mercurial : The Passage of Night” was born. Stunning costumes, unique set designs, poetry, theatre and video all joined hands to create this collaborative piece. Taking cue from Marie’s idea to create living, moving sculptures, the artistic team came together to engage the audience in an evening of wonder, beauty, and creation through the use of their bodies, imaginative minds and voices.
As an audience member, “Iris Mercurial : The Passage of Night” allowed me to feel as though I was entering a fantasy world. These 3 dimensional portraits that Marie Fox presented us with (plaster molds of the players faces) somehow gave me the desire to dream, to be transformed, to transcend my personal limitations, or become renewed in some way. The artist’s vision came to life before our eyes and showed us a compelling and enduring form of artistic expression.
The costumes, produced by both Marie Fox and Kelly Caseley, were incredibly striking and detailed. When Iris first emerges onto the stage she stands very still with only slight, graceful movements. We the audience are then able to quietly absorb this beautiful living sculpture. The use of fabrics, paints, nature, and of course the plaster masks themselves, allowed the players to be transformed into dream like creatures, both elegant and dark.
The sets, mostly made up of nature from PEI’s woodlands, pulled the audience directly into Iris’s world. But the piece that seemed to transform the entire room was the unique and compelling video work of Mille Clarkes. Its dark imagery set just behind the crowd seemed to give the entire room life, which allowed the audience to be placed in the middle of the performance, feeling as though they too were assisting in developing the artist’s vision.
The writing, collaborated between Overman, John Mackenzie and Kimberly McIntyre was both poetic and moving, dark and gripping. This was an important piece of the puzzle, along with the drastic distinction between John’s haunting narrative and Kimberly’s soft, delicate tone as it gave the players life, motive and movement.
Marie’s ability to cast the roles of the various players was perfect. Iris was portrayed Trish Goguen and Alisha Stephen, who carried themselves both delicately and elegantly. They were greatly contrasted by Andrew Hercules, whose tall and dark figure portraying the trickster was able to engage and entice the audience by furtively and slyly moving throughout it.
The aim of This Town is Small is to encourage collaborations between all art forms while creating public awareness and understanding of contemporary art. This performance did just that. While the artists gave their time and talents to the piece, we the audience were lucky enough to feel as though we were a part of it all. This performance reminded us to reignite our imaginations, and for that, all of the creative and talented artists involved in this production should be incredibly proud of the beautiful work they allowed us all to share.
Written by Overman
Is design an art in and of itself?
I’m not going to try and define ‘art’ since I honestly don’t know the definition, nor do I care. My question pertains to the border between the design of an artistic piece and it’s actual creation.
In the world of fashion, it is the designer who receives all the credit. When Lagerfeld designs a dress for Chanel, it is not he who then sits down and actually creates the piece. It is quite often a room full of master seamstresses who do all the physical work but receive none of the credit. Who is the artist in this case?
Personally I would have great difficulty in putting my brand on something that my hands did not create. But does anyone really care? Probably not. If I hired an assistant, and they created pieces for me could I still in good conscience call them “Overman” pieces? In reality, if someone likes one of my pieces, they probably do not think about who the creator is. They simply like it for what it is. Still, I don’t think I could do it. If I were to hire an assistant, it would be for the most mundane and uncreative of tasks: billing, shipping, delivery, and communications.
On the one hand, I think it’s only fair that when I put my brand on a creation it’s because I physically made it. On the other hand, I’m probably crazy and a bit of a narcissist. This is a shortcoming that I’ll have to overcome if I ever plan to expand my line.
However, lets think about another artistic discipline: painting. Imagine if an established painter hired a protégé, and began signing his name on the protégés work. Let us first assume the protégé has no issue with it. Let us also assume that the master painter is telling the protégé what to paint. The master is, in effect, the designer of the paintings. Would you feel cheated or disappointed if you purchased a painting and later found out that name signed on the painting was not the actual painter? Or can a signature simply act as a stamp of approval? I think I would feel cheated.
What is the difference between the disciplines?
written by Matt Bowness (Overman)
“I have found power in the mysteries of thought,
exaltation in the changing of the Muses;
I have been versed in the reasoning of men;
but Fate is stronger than anything I have known.” -Euripides
When I first started making things I had no intention of ever selling anything. I just made a few things for myself. I had seen similar things on the internet and thought I could make my own, so I ordered the supplies, and did it myself. A friend saw what I had made, and suggested that I make more and try to sell it. A year and a half later, I have my own workspace, my stuff is available in about a dozen stores, and I am struggling to keep up with orders.
It’s not for lack of time that I’m not keeping up with my orders, it’s more due to lack of interest. As I mentioned earlier, I don’t do this for money. As a matter of fact when I first started making things, I refused to price anything myself. I would just drop a bag of stuff off at a store, tell them my costs, and let them worry about the rest. Since then I’ve learned a few things about pricing and I do it myself now. I’ve got all the supplies I need to fill my orders, I’m just not feeling inspired.
In my last post for This Town is Small, I made it clear that my creative intentions are selfish. I am essentially creating things for myself, so I find it perfectly reasonable that I have not been in the mood to make anything lately. But really, who am I kidding? I won’t go into all the reasons here, but my lack of a muse has never been so obvious.
I believe in the idea of a muse. I could continue to make things that I might like, but I don’t have someone else to who I can show my work to and watch their reaction. Someone who’s opinion I value, and someone whose feedback isn’t based on admiration or worse; jealousy. I need honest reactions. These reactions are what provides further inspiration.
Some people think we can find our muse in virtually anything; ourselves, the world around us, or even something imaginary. Personally, I don’t think this works for me. My best work has always happened when I had another person who I was trying to impress. Someone who didn’t just fawn over everything I made. Someone who would provide feedback and new ideas.
I find it offensive when I show someone a collection of my work and they say something like, “It’s all great!” or “I love it all!”. No you don’t. You just aren’t looking close enough. Most of it is cutesy garbage with zero thought put into it, or pieces based on pseudo-wit as a marketing ploy. More of the same. Nothing new. The part that worries me is, without inspiration, that’s all I’ll do from here on out…more of the same. I will just rely on my past successes to guide my future creations. Nothing new. It’s not a creative block. I’m just not interested right now.
It’s okay though, I can’t force creativity. The only thing I can do is go to my workshop during my free time, fill my orders, and hope for the best. If something good happens then it happens; if it doesn’t; then it doesn’t. It’s not in my hands, it never was, and I’m fine with that.
At least I’m still writing.
“Did I make that?” I recently asked someone when I noticed a ring on their finger.
“Yeah, obviously,” they answered, alluding to the fact that the item in question was a ring with a watch movement soldered to it. There aren’t too many of them being made locally.
I had no recollection of making it. Unlike most of the rings I’ve made, it stood out from the others, so naturally I was surprised that I could not remember making it. I asked to see it, and when it was handed to me I noticed the sloppy soldering and knew it was one of my pieces. It has been a long time since I’ve made anything that I actually liked. Is this a common feeling among others? I’ve spoken with a few artists who agree that they don’t particularly like their own work, and I’ve spoken with others who rave over their own creations.