Putting the psycho back into psychogeography / ice storms and opportunities

When I moved to central Mass in August, I began almost immediately trying to figure out what it might be like to live in a cold and snowy and icy place. I started a couple of aerial paintings with this sort of "cold place" re-imagining in mind. Not really knowing the lay of the land and still learning how to get around, I didn't have a grounded reference for making work about my new locale. This lack of knowledge and experience led way for paintings that were open-ended, still quite speculative and, I soon found out, imbued with unconscious material – like the image below, which is a photo of one of the paintings in progress taken in October.


The painting has changed since I took this in-progress photo sometime in October, but if you look closely at the center, you can make out this triangular-shaped freezing, teeth-chattering, eye-squinting, nose-dripping "face." I find it both curious (and actually quite hilarious) that this material appeared from what I was intending to be planes and shards of splintering ice, blinding sunlight and confused movement through winding and forking roads. I also find it curious that this work was a bit of foreshadowing.

In mid-December, Fitchburg was the epicenter of a huge ice storm that took out the power grid for much of central Mass. Frank and I were without heat and electricity for a week and intermittently thereafter for the following week. We had friends, and knew of many others throughout the city and countryside, who were without services (some including water) for 2 weeks and even more.

The storm was unbelievable and devastating in ways I can't accurately describe. To understand the full effect of the damage would require an eyewitness view of what a war zone this area had become... roads blocked with debris, power cables stretched across and dangling in the streets, cars destroyed, military and emergency vehicles crawling and flashing lights day and night, bulldozers and chainsaws and work crews in military fatigues, busloads of refugees coming into the city's shelters. For weeks, the streets were a flurry of activity toward cleanup, recovery and repair.

Frank and I and one of our neighbors had two trees fall on our cars. My car took the brunt of the damage and was declared "totaled" by the insurance co. The neighbor's car lost a back window, which was easily replaced. And Frank's car had damage to the moon roof, which is relatively minor. My car is still drivable, but does need to have the roof repaired from what appears to be mostly cosmetic damage. Though I've finally settled up nicely with the insurance company and have the money sitting in the bank and ready to put toward the repair, there remains a waiting list on every local auto body shop... for obvious reasons.

Still... somehow in the midst of all this crazy weather, which also included several snow storms, I've had some exciting professional opportunities open up. First, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I moved back into a public studio. I am now part of a local art collective, Rollstone Studios, in downtown Fitchburg and a member of the Fitchburg Cultural Alliance. Secondly, I have been slated for a solo exhibition at Fitchburg State College in the fall. Third, I received a call from an out-of-state client (during the storm, no less, when I had very little cell phone battery left) telling me that her alma mater had gotten the okay and is raising funds to commission a large piece of work from me. That work will begin next fall. And finally, I've picked up a couple of courses to teach at the college. So... all's well that ends well.

The above painting has progressed over the months as have I. I've actually adapted to the cold much more quickly than I thought I would. I've learned to drive and walk in the snow, but it's still quite a lot to contend with. The teeth-chattering face is no longer visible in the painting or a prominent feature of my psyche, but the resonance (and humor) of that image still resides and peeks through in the painting on some level.