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The Gallery Tungsten 2011 Art Certificate is a transactional experiment. A limited edition of 1000 certificates has been printed and will be given away, sold, or traded to various recipients. While intended for the recipient's personal collection, the recipient may redeem the certificate; modify it, trade it, or discard it as they see fit. Gallery Tungsten is the sole arbiter of all redemption and may elect to value it in accordance with any of the above factors. The text below appears on the Art Certificate. All certificates are numbered and a log will be kept to track the provenance of all certificates.
The painting Semicolon and Period Battle the Butcher Block appears on the face of the certificate. The text below appears on the reverse.
This Print is one of a limited edition of One Thousand Numbered Art Certificates. Gallery Tungsten will accept this Art Certificate in trade for other work by Jedd Haas, at a minimum initial value of $100; for work priced above $100. The value of this Art Certificate may fluctuate at the benevelent whim of the Issuer, due to the completely unregulated status of this Art Certificate. Although this certificate is intended for your personal collection, it can be redeemed, as mentioned; and it may also be freely traded or sold. You may modify this Certificate to increase or decrease its value at your own risk. Modifications should be attempted by professionals only; and all changes in value will be at the sole discretion of the issuer of this Art Certificate. See gallerytungsten.com/artcertificate for details.
Bamboo like a tiger? So they say. It's sprouting up at present. Here is a fine specimen from previous growth.
The ideas of Visceralism are easy to set forth and understand at this advanced date. I first proposed the concept of Visceralism many years ago, when friends and aficionados of my work inquired about the conceptual ideas in play. After many years of ongoing use, the central tenets are well developed.
The essence of Visceralism is a sudden grasp on the senses; the pleasure of color; and the enactment of bold composition. Visceralism has no use for pseudo-Impressionism; the dripping vagaries of "bad painting;" the stultifying formalism of the academy; or the pissant parasite of plastic painting. Visceralism embraces the lush juiciness of oil; bold strokes of graphite; and the vigorous exercise of both additive and subtractive tools. Visceralism is all about the kind of oil painting you can sink your teeth into, metaphorically speaking.
Visceralism embraces all forms of depiction, whether representational or abstract. Visceralism knows no boundaries, other than remaining true to the spirit of the brush that calls it forth.
(10-29-2000)
Instant slide page, via google images. All work by Jedd Haas. Can you find each image on this site? Let me know your results.
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A new glass block window in a corner of the studio.
Previously: Glass Block Window Study
The infamous Orleans Ave. bonfire. Tamed and roped in this year, but still some flame.
Celebrants.
Betacam man.
Lights.
Ghost man.
Amateur pyrotechnicians shot fireworks in full view of the cops.
Street scene.
The Fire Department hose waited for its turn.
Indeed it's super-duper for photographic duplication of small paintings and any other objects that can fit in its movable jaws. The rod is threaded, which allows the knob to tighten down the top jaw to hold the work securely in place.
I came up with an idea for a super-duper photographic easel to take pictures of a bunch of new paintings. In a flash, I fabricated it from some parts I had on hand. Now the paint on the easel is drying...slowly. Until it's ready for use, an abbreviated glimpse of Yellow Balloons (left) and Cartesian Irises #3 (right).
The router makes fast work of the birch-veneer plywood.
The story begins after the flooding receded. The moldy walls and semi-rotted plywood remained.
Demolition began with the low-hanging areas. That way it's easier to fool yourself into thinking this is going to be a piece of cake.
Now that's what I'm talking about! Away with all the sheetrock, plywood, and the joists too! The studio is actually two rooms turned into one; the back part is an addition, which was (of course) not at the same level as the other room.
New joists and blocking installed. The miter saw got a workout, and I had some help from the International Team.
New plywood subfloor, what a remarkable improvement over no floor! The glass block windows were installed over the prior few months.
The hardwood flooring begins...
...and is completed, in early 2007. Hooray!
All insulated. Notice all that new wood on the walls? Corrective framing had to be added; the walls were all out of plumb. A new door, exhaust fan, and trim have also been added for further amusement.
New 3/4" plywood walls in place, filled, jointed, and painted. (This way I can attach things to the wall anywhere, without hunting for a stud.) Two finished walls and a floor: I call it the Corner of Normalcy as I now move on to other post-flood areas.
I had planned to make this charcoal before the big K. I wrapped up a selection of wisteria vine cuttings in aluminum foil, and set it aside for firing later. After the return from my NJ exile, it was still there. I grilled it for an hour or so, and it came out great! A bit fragile, but very smooth drawing. (See Charcoal Man.)
Charcoal close-up:
From one year ago, the first shopping list.
Studio rebuilding is still in progress. I just built this glass block window, which adds a pleasant amount of diffused light. Up close, the wavy pattern in the blocks has a kaleidoscopic effect.
The fence was disassembled; the underlying frame was rebuilt; and the boards were remixed and re-attached. (See the original Pressure Washer drawings.)
I found it years ago, a scrawny sapling, not even as big as a walking stick. It had been hidden behind a giant hackberry tree, which fell one day, opening the space up to whippersnapper trees. It grew to a respectable 15 feet.
The plum tree reached for the sky
but the water came from below.
After the flood and debris removal,
I hoped the plum tree might have survived. But sadly, no. A few branches were used to barbecue some tasty shrimp, then the bones of the plum tree were dug up, cut up, and hauled to the curb to join the giant pile of debris there. But memories of one harvest remain.
Model Gael spent one afternoon hunting the plums.
The fruit was juicy
and the prey was devoured.
Distant clusters of fruit were pursued to the ends of the branches.
A close-up look at the marauding pressure washer, ripping and slicing through the cedar.
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The Katrina Flood Line becomes the horizon line as the pressure washer roams freely over the stained cedar fence boards.
The Ancient Saber Saw arrived a short while before the water came. Time to board up; a little fine plywood slicing was needed. The ASS (hmm, acronyms) did the job via these diagrams. The water got the ASS.
This canvas had been prepared with exquisite care. Three coats of rabbit skin glue, two or three coats of oil gesso. It was lying in wait, but the waters came instead. A small portion off the top was hacked away for use on another occasion. The mold got the rest; the remains were hauled awat by a bobcat this afternoon.
Linen-covered panels in the final drying stage.
A portion of a notebook from 1990, in which I mentioned Picabia's phrase that "in order to have clean ideas, change them as often as you change your shirts."
