Climate for Change: An Exhibition by Atlantika Collective at MICA's Pinkard Gallery

All 8 members of @Atlantika Collective are creating artwork, writing or curating in relation to the climate crisis and the environmental challenges we currently face. And now, the fourth in an ongoing series of group exhibitions explores this theme, which may be the single most important challenge that humankind faces. Titled Climate for Change, the latest exhibit evolves further to respond to the new location, the Pinkard Gallery at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) in Baltimore. It features new or recent work by Gabriela Bulišová, Todd Forsgren, Billy Friebele, Mark Isaac, Katie Kehoe, Yam Chew Oh, and Sue Wrbican, and it is on view through March 3, 2024.

Atlantika members use photography, video, sculpture, and painting to approach the climate emergency from a variety of disparate vantage points. Member and curator Maria Alejandra Sáenz grouped the show according to broad themes, including artwork related to water, our forests, and other ecological subjects. These focal points assist the viewer in drawing connections between the work of the disparate artists. According to Sáenz's written statement, Climate for Change "illustrates the current environmental emergency and complex symptoms of climate change. As the ecological planetary crisis unfolds, the works in this exhibition advocate for immediate action. They act as beacons that bring light to the possibilities of transforming our relationship with the natural world."

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Images by Yam Chew Oh were captured during installation of the exhibition.

The opening reception will take place on January 25, 2024 from 5:00 to 7:00 pm. You can find more details about the event here: https://www.mica.edu/events-exhibitions/events-calendar/details/atlantika-collective-climate-for-change-opening-reception/2024-01-25/. That will be followed closely by a joint artist talk by Atlantika members on January 29th at noon in Falvey Hall in MICA's Brown Center. Several Atlantika members will appear live and others will join by video from around the US and Europe. The artists will provide background on Atlantika Collective, discuss their goals and intentions in addressing climate change, present their work, and take questions. 

In addition, the artists plan a panel discussion together with local environmental activists to focus on their goal of moving beyond "raising awareness" and contributing to a groundswell of action aimed at reversing the environmental damage we are currently witnessing. The details of this event will be announced in the near future. All events are free and open to the public.

The Members of Atlantika are extremely thankful to Yam Chew Oh, whose hard work was critical in bringing about the exhibition, to curator Maria Alejandra Sáenz, to Megan Irwin for her outstanding graphic designs, to Andrea Dixon and the entire exhibitions team at MICA, and to the MICA professors, environmental activists, and other individuals involved in organizing the related events. 

Podcast on "The Landscape of our Memory"

Atlantika Collective members Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac are pleased to share a podcast hosted by the Johannesburg Holocaust and Genocide Centre in which they are interviewed about their latest project, the Landscape of Our Memory. You can access the podcast here.

The artists would like to thank the Johannesburg Centre and the four academic leaders who interviewed us, including Andrea Pető, Central European University; Tali Nates, Executive Director and Founder of the Johannesburg Holocaust & Genocide Centre; Steven Carr, Professor of Communication and Director of the Institute for Holocaust and Genocide Studies at Purdue University in Fort Wayne; and Bjorn Krondorfer, Director of the Martin-Springer Institute and Endowed Professor of Religious Studies at Northern Arizona University. A special thanks is due to Bjorn whose work they have admired for a long time and who recommended them for the podcast.

The Landscape of our Memory is a long-term artistic project that addresses the “dispersed Holocaust” or “Holocaust by Bullets” by commemorating the more than 2 million individuals who were killed in or near their hometowns rather than in concentration camps. Inspired by the work of academics studying the Environmental History of the Holocaust (a relatively new sub-field of Holocaust studies), Gabriela and Mark also explore the links between genocide and ecocide and call attention to the environmental crises we currently face, including climate change. You can find more information, including initial imagery from this “work in progress,” here. 

Although this is a difficult topic, the artists consider it an important and necessary one to address, and they plan to continue working in Poland and neighboring countries in the months and years to come. They welcome your comments and suggestions as they move forward.

Fighting for Freedom and Democracy in Ukraine

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This image, taken by an artist in Kyiv on February 26, 2022, shows the aftermath of a Russian attack on a civilian apartment building. Amnesty International has already documented the indiscriminate shelling of civilian targets by Russia, actions that likely constitute war crimes under international law.

Many members of Atlantika Collective have a close personal connection to the parts of the world that have transitioned away from Communism and Socialism, including the nation of Ukraine, which is under assault by Russian troops at this moment.

Today Atlantika issued a “Special Statement on the War in Ukraine.” This statement vehemently condemns the Russian invasion of Ukraine and calls on governments and people all over the world to do everything possible to assist the people of Ukraine. Importantly, it includes essential information on Russian war crimes against civilians and information on how people worldwide can send humanitarian assistance to people in Ukraine and to refugees in bordering nations. Finally, Atlantika urges people to contact their own governments to demand the strongest possible sanctions against Russia and their isolation in the world community.

In addition, to highlight the importance of protecting freedom and democracy in Ukraine, we are introducing a new section of our website today called “The Post-Communist and Socialist World.” This new section brings together a diverse collection of artworks by Atlantika Collective members (and soon, other artists who have focused on similar topics). These works offer insights into art and culture, diversity and borderlands, and the environmental problems plaguing these nations, including a number of projects that originate in Ukraine.

The war in Ukraine is one of the most pressing humanitarian crises of our time. It is also one of the most important challenges to the rule of law and the future of democracy and self-determination. For these reasons, we all have a stake in this war, and we all must do what we can to bring an end to this brutal, unwarranted and illegal use of military force.

The Path Toward "A Tree for the Forest"

The installation of A Tree for the Forest, the new exhibition by Atlantika Collective members Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac, has now begun at the Municipal Gallery at Ibrahim’s Khan in Pafos, Cyprus. It was an occasion for exhilaration, nervousness, hard work and considerable coffee consumption. It was also a moment to fully acknowledge the creative vision of curator Yiannis Sakellis, whose strategy for hanging the exhibition proved to be an excellent one. 

In this exhibition, the artists focus on the role of trees in the climate crisis. The work is simultaneously despairing and hopeful. It zeroes in on the tragic loss of forested areas to wildfires in recent years, but it also takes careful note of the new scientific discovery that trees communicate extensively with each other in underground networks, sending nutrients and warning of danger. “Mother trees” also provide essential support for younger trees in their vicinity. This discovery offers the promise that we can better protect our forests, which have the potential to substantially reduce greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere. 

The main photographs by both artists are wide panoramas. Gabriela’s works are all more than 4.5 meters in length (that’s almost 15 feet stateside), and one reaches to 4.7 meters, or almost 15.5 feet. This easily surpasses the widest print that either artist has ever made. And the artists are interested in inquiring of other photographers who may see this post whether they have ever printed this wide, or know of someone who has? Mark’s works are not shabby in the length department either, reaching beyond 2.5 meters despite their origins on cell phones. 

Curator Yiannis Sakellis devised an ingenious method of hanging the works that involves panels of board joined together in one long strip. The long scrolls are then clipped to the panels and hoisted onto the walls of the gallery. A total of three large works were hung today, with the rest of the 10 images slated for hanging tomorrow. 

The exhibition also includes a multi-channel video installation, titled Mother Trees, that will be presented in a novel manner. Several video monitors will be placed flat on a table and will be viewed from above. The video includes images of trees that were captured in Prague and Paphos. It also includes original music and found sounds of communication, including sounds that were recorded as part of the Conet Project. The Conet Project is a famous set of recordings of shortwave radio broadcasts that contain instructions to espionage operatives around the world. 

Finally, the exhibition will include an installation of objects found at the scene of wildfires in the vicinity of Paphos, including Tala, Lemona, and Psathi. The found objects include almonds, olives, pomegranates and tree branches that were burned in the fires. It also includes tree sap that oozed out of trees when they were exposed to high temperatures.

In their statement to accompany the exhibition, the artists note that Cyprus is a hotspot in the accelerating climate crisis. It is among the parts of the world that are increasing most rapidly in temperature, and it experienced the worst wildfire in its history this year. 

They also explain that the title of the exhibition, A Tree for the Forest, is intended to emphasize the agency of each individual in responding to the crisis. In fact, the artists call on each person who encounters the exhibition to think of one additional action they can take to mitigate the climate crisis. “We can all stand tall, like a mother tree, connected to those around us, providing essential support for healthy forests and a healthy planet,” Bulisova and Isaac wrote. 

Art on the "Wood Wide Web"

Atlantika Collective Members Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac are currently in Paphos, Cyprus as part of the Episkeptes artist residency program at Kimonos Arts Center. Their project focuses on the ecological threats facing trees and forests, including the climate crisis and the growing number of wildfires around the world. But it also has a hopeful side.

The duo is creating new images devoted to expressing the recent scientific discovery that trees communicate with each other through a “wood wide web” of underground fungal networks. The research of scientist Suzanne Simard makes clear that trees use “wood wide webs” of fungus to send alarms about danger and to share carbon, water and other nutrients. “Mother trees” also act as central hubs to support younger, smaller trees in their vicinity. Now that we better understand that trees are highly cooperative, we can prevent tragic practices like clearcutting that destroy the forest and prevent it from being restored quickly.

The artists are creating panoramic photographs of the tree canopy that strongly suggest the manner in which roots and fungal networks mingle and communicate. Here are some details from these images, in which trees reach out to each other, vibrating with energy, singing, dancing and cavorting. These teaser images are not in the show, which includes sweeping panoramas printed two and a half meters in width, but they give you a sense of the direction of the work.

The new exhibit opens Saturday, December 18th at 7:30 pm at the Municipal Gallery at Ibrahim’s Khan in Pafos, Cyprus. It is possible because of the strong support of the Kimonos Art Center and curator Yiannis Sakellis.

Climate Crisis Project Underway in Cyprus

Atlantika Collective members Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac are already hard at work on their project as part of "Episkeptes, a residency at the Kimonos Art Center," an artist residency program based in Paphos, Cyprus. Much of their attention centers on ecological themes, and their work in Cyprus is focused on the ecological threats facing trees and forests, including the growing impact of wildfires. Around the world, the fire season is longer, more land is burned, and fires are more destructive than before. Of course, each of these events releases more carbon dioxide, worsening climate change. Cyprus is at the center of this new reality, having experienced the worst wildfire in the nation’s history in 2021. In Paphos, numerous smaller wildfires have broken out in recent weeks, and the artists have already visited several of these sites in the hope of incorporating them into the project. Their work simultaneously focuses on two related themes: the rampant spread of wildfires and the scientific discovery that trees communicate extensively through underground networks. Here are several details from the first theme of their work, which is created by treating an entire roll of film as a single image of a burnt landscape.

Mark’s and Gabriela’s work will be presented during the month of December in an exhibition organized and curated by Kimonos Art Center. More information and details will be announced soon. The program “Episkeptes” is funded by the Cultural Services of the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports and Youth.

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Η Gabriela Bulisova και ο Mark Isaac, οι πρώτοι συμμετέχοντες του προγράμματος φιλοξενίας καλλιτεχνών «Επισκέπτες» του Κέντρου Τεχνών Κίμωνος είναι ήδη σε ρυθμούς προετοιμασίας των έργων που θα παρουσιάσουν στην προσεχή τους έκθεση. Με το έργο τους να επικεντρώνεται σε οικολογικά προβλήματα, κατά τη διάρκεια της παραμονής τους στην Πάφο διερευνούν τις επιπτώσεις των πρόσφατων πυρκαγιών στις πυρόπληκτες περιοχές της επαρχίας μας. Σε όλο τον κόσμο η περίοδος των πυρκαγιών γίνεται όλο και μεγαλύτερη όσο περνά ο καιρός, με μεγαλύτερες εκτάσεις γης να καίγονται και τις φωτιές να είναι συνεχώς και πιο καταστροφικές. Αυτό φυσικά, έχει ως επακόλουθο σε κάθε πυρκαγιά να απελευθερώνεται στην ατμόσφαιρα όλο και περισσότερο διοξείδιο του άνθρακα χειροτερεύοντας έτσι, την ήδη καταστροφική κλιματική αλλαγή. Η Κύπρος δεν αποτελεί εξαίρεση σε αυτή τη νέα πραγματικότητα και τους τελευταίους μήνες έχει υποστεί τις χειρότερες πυρκαγιές στην πρόσφατη ιστορία της. Στην Πάφο είχαμε πολλές εστίες πυρκαγιών τις οποίες οι δύο καλλιτέχνες έχουν ήδη επισκεφτεί και φωτογραφίσει, εντάσσοντας τα αποτελέσματα αυτά στο ευρύτερο έργο τους. Στις φωτογραφίες που ακολουθούν μπορείτε να δείτε μερικά από τα δείγματα του έργου τους, τα οποία έχουν δημιουργηθεί ως μία μοναδική εικόνα από ένα ενιαίο ρολό φιλμ ως μαρτυρία μιας καμένης γης.

Το έργο των Mark και Gabriela θα παρουσιαστεί κατά το μήνα Δεκέμβριο σε έκθεση που διοργανώνεται από το Κέντρο Τεχνών Κίμωνος. Πληροφορίες και λεπτομέρειες θα ανακοινωθούν σύντομα.

Περισσότερα για το έργο των Mark και Gabriela στον ακόλουθο σύνδεσμο:

https://www.bulisova-isaac.com/

Το πρόγραμμα «Επισκέπτες» χορηγείται από τις Πολιτιστικές Υπηρεσίες του Υπουργείου Παιδείας, Πολιτισμού, Αθλητισμού και Νεολαίας.

The Oil Tanker (Part Three)

Atlantika Collective Member Sue Wrbican's show titled The Iridescent Yonder recently opened at the Riverviews Artspace in Lynchburg, VA and was reviewed in this space on July 14. During Atlantika's monthly meeting, Sue walked us through the multi-faceted show, which includes photography, painting, and installation. She emphasized that the exhibit was conceived as a response to the tragic loss of both her brother, Matt Wrbican, and her mother within several weeks of each other. In fact, the exhibit centers around a large-scale collaborative painting of an oil tanker created by her brother Matt and two collaborators, Phil Rostek and James Nelson, in 1991. During the walkthrough, we were introduced to Phil, who not only helped us to appreciate the importance of Matt Wrbican's accomplishments, but also regaled us with tales about collaborative efforts the group initiated in the 1980s under the name "DAX," or Digital Art Exchange. Phil's recollections of their joint efforts and the early responses of artists in the 1970s to 1990s to important cultural developments, including the advent of the internet, proved extremely fascinating, and we invited him to elaborate on the very significant "paradigm shift" that he witnessed in art during this period. We hope that this series of posts will not only shed light on innovations in American experimental art during this period, but also flesh out the relevance and significance of Sue's recent work. You can read Part One here and Part Two here.

by Phil Rostek

I was very happy to see the wonderful installation that the Oil Tanker received at the Craddock - Terry Gallery, Riverviews Artspace in Lynchburg. The Oil Tanker is comprised of four 6’ high by 4’ wide panels that are bolted together to make a 6’ high by 16’ wide surface. Matt and i were pretty deliberate in making something that would last; and the tanker survived 30 years of storage without much structural deterioration. It was stored in 2 commercial venues over the years - both were dry and climate controlled. The weight of the piece requires a solid wall for installation. To take the stress off the piece, the installation in Lynchburg supported the tanker in a rather ingenious way. I was delighted to see this beautiful presentation.

As i wax philosophically about memories of long ago, i hope i do not digress into far-fetched tangents. I see relationships everywhere and to a fault. Even the posts that support the Oil Tanker in this photo evoke symbolic significance for me. Being a helpless grammarian, it raises these two words in my mind: Foundation and origin. My mentor Robert Lepper defined design in several ways; this is one that i remember: “Design is the mutual dependence of the components of a system.” For me the collaboration that brought the Oil Tanker into the world enjoyed additional creative input in Lynchburg that further described what the Labyrinth show aimed to suggest. The components of a system had further described the concept of distributed authorship. A foundation was provided that was integral to the practicality of need; yet remained within the mutual dependence of a system.

That thought raises implications about what we expect when we impose the notion of aesthetic into our consideration of most everything? Extraneous things, when removed, are perceived as improvements. The door then opens wider toward open ended thinking. It provides more room to take in more. When a system is efficiently contained, in the context of The Iridescent Yonder, it all becomes a component part within a larger schema. The very life of Sue Wrbican, the imagination and inclusion of Claire McConaughy, and the Oil Tanker all set sail together on some voyage into a 3 person installation:

From Sue Wrbican’s installation “The Iridescent Yonder” at Riverviews Artspace in Lynchburg, VA.

Fragile Rainbow, Claire McConaughy, 120” x 40,” 2021.

If art and life are indeed a unison (or are at least believed to be a unison) and art and life together are considered to be an inseparable entity... relationship experience expands to appreciate subjectivity within a guarded attitude that is respectful of, not fearful of, subjectivity. I believe it is that zone that empowered Sue Wrbican to take on the The Iridescent Yonder. The loss of a mother and a brother, especially if we have shared similar trauma, needs little explanation. The impulse to place that in full view via the creative act stands close to what we all know, what we have all have felt, what we all call up in our hearts from time to time. The will to celebrate being alive in the midst of those considerations brings the term “Yonder” into rather sharp focus. Art and Life ponders eternity without apology and without a “look back,” as Claire said in her painting, “Fragile Rainbow.”

Plan for Labyrinth exhibition, Phil Rostek and Matt Wrbican, 1990.

The Oil Tanker was a portion of a larger show called the Labyrinth which closed with a long hallway. The wall and table presented pictures of the participating artist's mothers. My mother was alive then. Now i join Sue in the iridescent Yonder of recollection.

The awareness of experience as it is lived can include an awareness of some larger gestalt. This has engaged the minds of great thinkers throughout the centuries. Times of insight. Those times when things seem clear. Those times when you see yourself in the bathroom mirror - when you see what is there - not a memory that avoids the stark truth of what time has done to a face. Art can take us to this awareness. Art can move us into a receptivity to awareness. It can beckon us to engage the Yonder.

Ocracoke Path, Sue Wrbican, 53 1/4“ X 40 1/4”, 2017.

This is a view of that awareness, that disappearing path, that acknowledgement that things, including ourselves, move through time.

And so the sails that propel us through our lives are given pause in this presentation. Easy chairs help to anchor the sails. A reference to repose, a reference to times when there is time enough to step back and look at life, a look that seeks the mind not just the spirit. In my opinion this is more about analysis than it is about simplistic capitulations to recollection.

Sue speaks of a show where she includes her friends - as a way of getting a message out. In classic artistic reservation she does not spell out her opinion any further than that. There are only two friends in the Iridescent Yonder show. Both have to do with the show’s intent. Both were selected with care. Both retained a life of their own while mixed into relationship that was aimed at expressing the ineffable.

This is quite compatible with thought processes that were employed in making the Oil Tanker. Three artists acting in concert and acting with autonomy - at the same time. The desire is to avoid premature conclusions and the temptation of self proclamation.

I close with this image from the Labyrinth show. It is a wing wall reference to the Oedipus riddle. The picture on the wall (that Matt Wrbican chose) depicts Sue, as a child in a party dress, running past her grandfather who is holding a cane. It is gesture that unnerves me a bit. It is so much in keeping with the sensibility of Matt Wrbican and the fusion of art and life that i have enjoyed with Matt and Sue over many years. I also knew Matt’s dear mother. i also knew her cats and her garden and her intellect.

From the Labyrinth Exhibition, 1991.

The Oil Tanker (Part Two)

Atlantika Collective Member Sue Wrbican's show titled The Iridescent Yonder recently opened at the Riverviews Artspace in Lynchburg, VA and was reviewed in this space on July 14. During Atlantika's monthly meeting, Sue walked us through the multi-faceted show, which includes photography, painting, and installation. She emphasized that the exhibit was conceived as a response to the tragic loss of both her brother, Matt Wrbican, and her mother within several weeks of each other. In fact, the exhibit centers around a large-scale collaborative painting of an oil tanker created by her brother Matt and two collaborators, Phil Rostek and James Nelson, in 1991. During the walkthrough, we were introduced to Phil, who not only helped us to appreciate the importance of Matt Wrbican's accomplishments, but also regaled us with tales about collaborative efforts the group initiated in the 1980s under the name "DAX," or Digital Art Exchange. Phil's recollections of their joint efforts and the early responses of artists in the 1970s to 1990s to important cultural developments, including the advent of the internet, proved extremely fascinating, and we invited him to elaborate on the very significant "paradigm shift" that he witnessed in art during this period. We hope that this series of posts will not only shed light on innovations in American experimental art during this period, but also flesh out the relevance and significance of Sue's recent work. You can read Part One here.

By Phil Rostek

The decade of the 80’s brought about dramatic changes that impacted the social order in every conceivable way. Financial markets saw great shifts of wealth, employment became a learning curve that replaced routine, hierarchy in personal relationships saw great migrations of status and recognition. Professions morphed, identities scurried into mythologies, orientations of all kinds stood on their head. These tumultuous times, however, were lived - like all times are lived - day to day. The scale of what was happening was absorbed by the daily pressing details that one must naturally confront in order to get by. Underneath it all was a feeling of uncertainty. An anxiety instigated by the multiplicity of new things that were occurring and new things that had to be learned. On top of it all was a giddy excitement that enthusiastically embraced utopian possibilities. Possibilities that lent themselves not only to personal opportunity - but possibilities that could make the world a better place.

Artistically speaking, America seemed to be punctuated not by large chunks of sensibility that were later called movements; but rather abject change that was moving through time decade by decade. The 70’s were quite different from the 80’s; the 90’s would most likely bring more and faster change. Below is an image of Matt Wrbican starting his work on the Oil Tanker. The year was 1991. It was early in a new decade and it felt like it was early in a new decade. Art was in its primary role - not as a forecaster of what was to come - but as a perceiver of what was Actually transpiring in the present. Matt's graduate studies had resulted in an M.F.A. and Carnegie Mellon University endorsed him as a master of his art. Matt was on the fulcrum of what most of us remember with deeply etched feelings - a time in our own lives when very pivotal decisions are made. All preparation toward a future comes shockingly down to what Actually is going to happen. It was in that zone that Matt found himself in a basement fashioning a modern Minotaur.

Matt Wrbican working on The Oil Tanker, 1991.

I take part of the responsibility for that. Matt and i were close friends. The DAX Group experience that i shared with Matt had me branching out too and i was firming up convictions that took about a decade to distill. I was moving toward a desire to do something more contained, more structured or planned. I had become fatigued by unchartered interactions that stemmed from untethered egalitarian ground rules. I was a relationship thinker who had become suspect of Relativism. Somehow the idea of an absolute seemed a return to something pleasant. i began questioning my own position within a tech-class society. Platitudes about how the world should be seemed to fall way too short. in a rather sober way, i acknowledged that my DAX theories were possible through technical expertise that i did not have at all. I was also seeking relief from the virtual world of a screen. i wanted to be a traditional stick in the mud.

In the 70’s i studied with this man, Robert Lepper, at Carnegie Mellon en route to my MFA:

Robert Lepper lighting a cigarette - late 80’s - from my DVD ‘Robert Lepper / a Personal View'

Lepper pausing to light a cigarette had become a signature gesture. It meant he was pausing to line up his thoughts; he was getting ready to “ think.” It had the quality of a mini drama - a theatrical event. Everybody called him Mr. Lepper, students, faculty, everybody. Mr. Lepper’s course ‘Individual and Social Analysis’ was the soul of the visual art program at CMU; just as it was years earlier when it was Carnegie Tech. One didn’t even have to study with Lepper one on one. His influence permeated the place. Arguably Lepper taught the first course in Industrial Design in the nation. He taught both in the design department and in the art department. Lepper saw little distinction between the two areas in my opinion. Andy Warhol would take his class that was then called Pictorial Design at Carnegie Tech. To put a point on a time frame, Andy graduated Tech in 1949 - the year i was born. I graduated CMU with an M.F.A. in 1973 - the year Picasso died.

Rainier Crone in his book about Warhol would draw attention to Lepper’s course problem: Locate the most significant object in the social flux. I think this is insightful and it should not be roundly dismissed. i think it is a salient factor in young Andy’s education… later to become a soup can, a Marilyn, a Brillo box. Lepper took pride in his ability to analyze. Some associate Lepper’s teaching with behaviorist psychology. He had an uncanny way of clarifying issues. By a spontaneous ability to contextualize, Lepper unveiled the origin of things. He gave reasons why things occurred; then gave reasons why they occurred when they did. My first year at CMU, with exposure to Lepper’s insights, would see me forego painting altogether. In my second year i would come back to school wearing white tie and tails.

The Oil Tanker also is inseparable from this man:

Bruce Breland in 1986 shortly after the DAX Group participated in the 1986 Venice Biennale.

Capturing van Gogh air for Bruce Breland’s “Museum of Modern Air” 1973'

Matt and i both studied with Bruce. Studying with Bruce was same as being friends with Bruce. He imposed no false sense of authority and imposed no academic standards that were purely academic. Bruce thought on high levels of thinking; his standards were measured by profound simplicity. He lived art and life together. In unison. Bruce compared expression, insight and commitment to Faulkner, Janice Joplin, Buckminster Fuller, Black Elk. He inspired others by story-telling about Black Mountain College, The Cedar Tavern, Allan Kaprow and ‘Fluids’ and about the career of his friend Roy Lichtenstein. Bruce Breland spoke from personal experience and personal involvement. He was a clairvoyant pioneer in the world of early telematic exchange. When the DAX Group was written up in an article in New Observations the group looked like this:

Photo by Jeff Breland , 1990.

Asking whether all this looping around and memory raking is extraneous or integral to an appreciation of the Oil Tanker is a legitimate thing to ask. Maybe it's a little of both. In that respect i confess that i like Niels Bohr and the whole idea of contradiction. Maybe matter does exist somewhere between a wave and particle and maybe his response to Einstein still stands up. Maybe we should not tell God what He does. i mention those things to you because they were mentioned to me by Mr. Lepper. He called Bohr’s response ‘the put down of the century.' If an artist is asked if he or she likes the color blue - the immediate response will be: “Next to what?” This is relationship not compartmentalized thinking. So i just put a feather in the hat of Relativism after all. In the spirit of Walt Whitman may i repeat this beautiful thought? You say i have contradicted myself? So i have contradicted myself. Within me is multitudes. If any of this makes sense, then the Oil Tanker might make sense. It also moves me to show the next picture. Me, my wife Marcia and Matt Wrbican at the Warhol gravesite:

Photo circa late 80’s

Let’s bring eternity into our conversation. After that visit to the graveyard, Matt and i shared an evening with the aging Lepper in his apartment. When Lepper saw our gravesite images he got very interested. The overarching point is that Matt and i were still learning from Lepper. I spent many hours in conversation with Lepper until the wee hours of the morning. His erudition, in old age, was astonishing. Did these discussions have a big influence on the Oil Tanker? Who would know. But by 2002 Matt was curating shows at the Warhol. Essay, co-authored by Robert Lepper and Philip Rostek, was included in an exhibition called Robert Lepper / Artist and Teacher.

Our thinking at the time of the Labyrinth did not reminisce; it attempted to be contemporary.

And that required the expertise and muscle of many people.

The show was ambitious and such collaborative enterprises were almost expected to fail. We made our deadline. It was not easy but we opened perfectly - dotting i’s and crossing t’s. We had learned the value of positive reinforcement as an empowering agent toward getting things done. An example of that, that pertains to the Oil Tanker specifically, is this note Jim wrote to Matt and i as he was finishing his section of the piece. It is exemplary of the glue that held the overarching and interacting parts together. i framed it not long ago.

We saw ourselves as idealistic and convivial representatives of what a new era could be.

The Labyrinth was perhaps more of a continuation of my grad school days than i care to admit. My graduate thesis, Tailormades, proclaimed that Art had 3 r’s. Ritual, Remnants. and Reminiscing. Remnants remain for me not failures or relics, but what remains after something has been removed. Ritual involves the mutual dependence of the components of a system. (Robert Lepper’s definition of Design.) And Reminiscing is what i am doing now.

I tried to live out those 3 elements while wearing my tails, my art uniform. i tried to re-invent those elements in the Labyrinth show. But the resurrection of the Oil Tanker is more than re-enactment for me. It beckons a search within - for some sense of self.

I had mentioned the term multiple identity in Chapter one. Perhaps the time is right to bring an explanation forward. I will try to do this pictorially as words seem beyond me. I am no match for Walt Whitman’s poetic gifts.

Artist Casting Giacometti shadow , 1972. Photo credit: Roger Dumas.

By the early 80’s i had become “phriar phil.”

Photo credit: Sue Wrbican

After a heart transplant in 2008 i became “philip the transplant.”

Art Attack, 1972 . Photo credit: Marcia Rostek

It is curious to have an extended life. To be alive via a donor’s heart is as surreal as Dali’s Persistence of Memory. This prophetic 1972 photo of a lip stick incision is probably even more strange to me than it is to you. After a heart transplant in 2008, I consider myself to be the ultimate “remnant.”

The Oil Tanker has arrived to see another day due to the convictions and energy and emotional feelings of Sue Wrbican. My doctors at Presbyterian Hospital in Pittsburgh have also enabled me to see another day. If Art has 3 r’s it would not surprise me. The ritual of bringing something to life, the phenomenon of recovery, and the opportunity to reminisce about the first two things - has happened to me in life and has happened to me in art. I would like to think my friend Robert Lepper would see beauty in the irony of it all. i would like to think that my friend Bruce Breland would hear the Sound and the Fury once more. i would like to think that Matt and Jim would see our Minotaur defeated. Defeated for perhaps a short time only. But defeated for now. Beyond that is too much to ask.

Myself seeing the Oil Tanker in storage after many years. Photo credit: Sue Wrbican, 2020.

The Oil Tanker (Part One)

Atlantika Collective Member Sue Wrbican's show titled The Iridescent Yonder recently opened at the Riverviews Artspace in Lynchburg, VA and was reviewed in this space on July 14. During Atlantika's monthly meeting, Sue walked us through the multi-faceted show, which includes photography, painting, and installation. She emphasized that the exhibit was conceived as a response to the tragic loss of both her brother, Matt Wrbican, and her mother within several weeks of each other. In fact, the exhibit centers around a large-scale collaborative painting of an oil tanker created by her brother Matt and two collaborators, Phil Rostek and James Nelson, in 1991. During the walkthrough, we were introduced to Phil, who not only helped us to appreciate the importance of Matt Wrbican's accomplishments, but also regaled us with tales about collaborative efforts the group initiated in the 1980s under the name "DAX," or Digital Art Exchange. Phil's recollections of their joint efforts and the early responses of artists in the 1970s to 1990s to important cultural developments, including the advent of the internet, proved extremely fascinating, and we invited him to elaborate on the very significant "paradigm shift" that he witnessed in art during this period. We hope that this series of posts will not only shed light on innovations in American experimental art during this period, but also flesh out the relevance and significance of Sue's recent work.

by Phil Rostek

The Oil Tanker, a 1991 collaborative work by myself, Matt Wrbican, and Jim Nelson, has seen the light of day after 30 years of storage. Thanks to the energy, commitment, and creativity of artist Sue Wrbican (Matt’s sister), the Oil Tanker now looks like this in the Craddock - Terry Gallery at Riverviews Artspace in Lynchburg, VA. It enjoys a space within Sue’s exhibit entitled “The Iridescent Yonder."

Detail of The Oil Tanker, Matt Wrbican, Phil Rostek, and James Nelson. Discarded plastic objects, paint and tar, 192” x 72”, 1991.

The Oil Tanker was originally part of a larger presentation exhibited at the then Pittsburgh Center for the Arts, National Gallery. It was funded by the Painted Bride / Philadelphia and also was supported by the formidable commitment of director of exhibitions Mr. Murray Horne. The show was called the Labyrinth and it was a “walk through exhibit” - a kind of inventory of effects that intended to stimulate an observer to ponder speculations about what the world was like and where it might be going. In 1991 those conjectures most likely included many of the same thoughts that still plague us today and still require candor and inquiry, i.e., environmental concerns, sustainable resources, reasonable parameters of digital outreach, and the phenomenon of multiple identity.

The book of contributors to the Labyrinth exhibit (pictured below) included the conviction that, as organizers of the show, Matt and i considered ourselves “stewards,” not authors. The exhibit included a spinning tree and microphone which looped anything that was said into it. It included wise sentences from historical personalities that were scribed by hand as small as possible. Other rooms included audio tapes and lazy boy chairs, references to Shakespeare, the Ancient Greeks, Alcoholics Anonymous, and a video of Lower East Side metal banging in the Rivington Street “sculpture garden.”

Installation views, The Labyrinth, 1991.

The backstory of Oil Tanker is rather integral to a collaborative effort that included 14 artists all in all. The thrust of the exhibit attempted to laud the virtues of what i called “structural collaboration.” Quite simply that referred to my bias that overt process orientation prioritizes the participants - observers are for the most part left alone to untangle impenetrable interaction. The Oil Tanker may provide a good example to make this more clear.

I thought our Labyrinth should have a “Minotaur” and that was, in my opinion, oil and the amount of it that suffered catastrophic spills back then. Matt and i agreed on this and we invited Jim Nelson to help us express something, somehow. By consensus we agreed a tanker in high profile would fit the bill and agreed upon a rough thumb nail sketch. Later there was a separation of input. I did the tarry water, Matt worked inside the outline of the boat, and Jim painted a background setting.

Here’s me with the initial idea.

Phil Rostek standing with the original concept drawing for The Oil Tanker, 1991.

Here’s Jim Nelson painting in the background, which evoked The Gulf War. I met Jim at Carnegie Mellon University in 1971. Our graduate student studios were in the basement of the Margaret Morrison Building on campus. We remain very close friends to this day. I’m pictured also - touching up the tar at the bottom of the painting.

Jim Nelson and Phil Rostek creating The Oil Tanker in 1991.

And here is the creativity of Matt Wrbican who saved oil based products for months and then organized them from thin to high dimension within the hull of the Tanker. Neither i nor Jim was expecting the passion that Matt brought to the project; but i was not surprised then nor am i now. Matt Wrbican was a unique and stellar talent.

Plastic (petroleum-based) objects collected by Matt Wrbican for use in the creation of The Oil Tanker, 1991.

There is something ineffable about my experience in Lynchburg. It haunts me in ways that evoke, or perhaps better, reawaken the aspirations of The Labyrinth. Seeing the Oil Tanker but not seeing Matt was telling. The Labyrinth exhibition coincided with the retirement of my mentor and Matt’s mentor - Bruce Breland. I studied with Bruce as a grad student at CMU 1971 to 73. We did mail art and concept pieces together. i had given up lyrical painting and opted to wear white tie and tails to school every day. I was also studying with Robert Lepper - a teacher of Andy Warhol. Between Lepper and Breland is a volatile and heady place to be. Each had a keen sense of the absurd, and at the same time, each had a keen penchant for very pragmatic thinking. Both liked Duchamp. My leanings toward Fluxus would later inform my thinking when i wrote theory for Bruce Breland’s DAX Group (Digital Art Exchange) in the 80’s.

Phil Rostek, from a photograph by Bruce Breland, 1973.

It was in the 80’s that i met Matt Wrbican. Matt was then a grad student working with Bruce in coursework called “intermedia.” During the decade of the 80’s the DAX Group contributed to many distributed authorship pieces during the early days of the internet. La Plissure du Texte 1983, a text exchange organized by Roy Ascott comes to mind - as do contributions to Network Planetario / Laboratorio Ubique at the Venice Biennale 1986.

By the end of the decade Matt was working at the Carnegie Museum of Art during the installation of a Carnegie International, archiving Breland’s legacy at CMU, and doing the Labyrinth show with me -all at the same time. It was stressful for Matt but he succeeded in doing it all. He was, very shortly afterward, hired by the Warhol Museum as an archivist in charge of moving work from Warhol’s factory to Pittsburgh. Matt is identified with the Warhol time capsules as well acknowledged as one of the foremost authorities about the life and art of Andy Warhol in the world. That is not an overstatement.

As i step back now and think about the volatility of those times; i cannot say that i have much to contribute to the understanding of it all. Great turmoil was let loose when “the individual was replaced by the collective’” via technological innovations; innovations that spawned an unprecedented acceleration of information. Information speed-up continues to shape the world and the people who live on it. The relationship between art and life seemed obvious when NYC was a center. The very notion of a center continues to fade into a horizontal world that runs flat. The Labyrinth tried to anticipate what future existence would be, and the Oil Tanker was something that seemed necessary to avoid and replace.

More installation views of The Labyrinth exhibit, 1991.

It seems that having one foot in a national world and one foot in a global one - is a chasm that has not narrowed but widened.

As science takes the place of art and religion, one area seems impervious to any form of apprehension. If i could replace the Oil Tanker in today’s Labyrinth, if i could speculate about Minotaurs today, i would offer this. The one area where there has been no “progress” or even significant conjecture is: an understanding of what consciousness actually is. We know it’s what disappears under anesthesia, but we don’t know much more than that. Science would deny that dead things have it at all. But when it is present as a combination of multi-sensory experience and flux - what we commonly call life - it seems to avoid science’s favorite word: “someday.”

It is curious when the notion of “what” is eclipsed by the notion of “how.” Hyper-individualistic living begins to fear time itself. Humility becomes obsolete. A culture, or the tribal equivalent of it, comes to think that time can be reversed and, moreover, that it can be reversed in the spirit of righteousness. The effect of information overload does not see the imminent dangers of the present; it ironically draws obsessive attention to the past. Somewhere in the meat of the brain there is a capacity to recall times that have gone by - but in today’s culture this can only be noticed in the context of the present.

What do contemporary people do when eternity itself has become a thing of the past? That is what i felt when i saw the Oil Tanker after all these years. That faint glimmer of who i used to be seemed unusually informative. That feeling is connected to the elusive charms of what we call, for lack of a better term, art.

The Iridescent Yonder: A New Exhibit by Atlantika Collective Member Sue Wrbican

Mark Isaac

It is a time of loss, and even as vaccinated people poke their newly maskless faces into the world and think about new beginnings, we all have a need to process the tragedies that have surrounded us for a seeming eternity -- and threaten to pursue us into the future. 

But of course, loss was always with us. And every day and in the course of normal human events, we are faced with the loss of family, friends, acquaintances, those we never knew. We also face the loss of the environment as we once knew it, and the increasing likelihood of epic ecological collapse. We’ve faced a period of endless wars that blended one into another. Each one a tragedy, each a reminder that life can never be immune from death.

Now comes Atlantika member Sue Wrbican, whose latest multi-faceted and highly accomplished exhibit operates as a tool for processing loss. On July 2, her show titled “The Iridescent Yonder” opened in the Riverviews Artspace in Lynchburg, Virginia, a capacious setting that gives ample breathing room to a formidable installation of large-scale sculptures, diverse photographs, and two accompanying paintings by select collaborators. One day later, laptop in hand, she guided us through the show piece by piece during Atlantika’s monthly meeting, elaborating on her inspirations and intentions, and introducing us to some of the people who are central to its themes.

In 2019, within a matter of weeks, Sue lost two close members of her family. First, her brother Matt, an accomplished artist and archivist at the Andy Warhol Museum, succumbed after a lengthy battle with brain cancer. Not long after that, Sue’s mother also passed. The pain of this double loss was searing, but by now it is literally soaring, since Sue seems to have used every available moment of the subsequent lockdown to craft the elements of this show, which include some of the towering cloth sails that have made repeat appearances in her work in recent years. 

Oil Tanker, Matt Wrbican, Phil Rostek, and James Nelson. Discarded plastic objects, paint and tar, 192” x 72”, 1991.

The nautical theme is especially fitting in this instance. The entire show is ordered around a very unique and prescient painting of an oil tanker created in 1991 by her brother Matt, along with collaborators Phil Rostek and James Nelson. A looming monolith of a black ship, plying a slick of suspiciously foul and spoiled waters, is visible against a backdrop of conflagration and acrid smoke. As Sue introduced us to this work, held in storage for the last 30 years, it first appeared flat, as many a painting often is. But as she moved her laptop closer, the hull of the ship was suddenly revealed to be a veritable constellation of discarded plastic products, rising off the surface as a bas-relief. And the skilled artists have crafted the oil tanker in such a way that its colossal prow seems likely to escape the picture plane and advance right on into the gallery, sloshing its unctuous cargo on our shoes.

Also on hand was Phil Rostek, one of the creators of this piece, who regaled us with tales of how it was created and how it responded specifically to current events. It was the time of the Gulf War, and our powerful republic had decided to defend its access to inexpensive petroleum. The artists not only greeted this moment of combat and colonialism with appropriate alarm, they were farsighted enough to incorporate a commentary about the pervasiveness of plastic waste, a problem that has in the meantime grown to gargantuan proportions. It is a work whose import has been appreciating every moment that it remained in storage, like a finely crafted spirit aging in a remote cellar.

Now all of the artwork gains substance and essence, in proximity to the tanker. The sinuous nautical ropes; the sculptural fish; the dramatic oversize print on silk, laid on the sails like a wardrobe accessory of the gods. The painting of a “Fragile Rainbow” contributed by friend Claire McConaughy in which a reflection of prismatic colors on adulterated water partially vanishes into an ambiguous mire. The photographs that chronicle dystopian assemblages of consumerist waste, yet at the same time point us beyond cataclysm. 

Fragile Rainbow, Claire McConaughy. Oil painting diptych, 120” x 40”, 2021.

But let us remember that it is not only the health of our environment that is at risk of loss. The Gulf War was a time of violent loss, as were the many wars that have continued after that time. The battle against COVID remains a time of stunning worldwide bereavement. The many personal losses in all of our lives continue apace through the years, without any cessation. But now, courtesy of “The Iridescent Yonder,” they all come with some valuable tools for processing mortality and moving into a new phase of life. Sue emphasizes that her “quiet, repetitive, meditative process” helped her deal with the pain she was feeling and create a fitting and eloquent tribute to her brother and her mother.

None of us knows in advance precisely how we will react to agonizing loss. But there is something especially eloquent and gripping when human beings do their utmost to overcome adversity, using whatever means is at their disposal. And there is something especially memorable when the tool is gifted and skillful artmaking in which we can all find a glimmer of our sorrow and our yearning to transcend. 

In the end, we emerge from mourning with the metaphysical challenge of deciding what to do with our remaining allocation of time. What will we prioritize in the wake of personal losses? Will the post-COVID era be a “return to normal” or will it be a time of change? How will we move beyond the era of endless war? Will we succeed in saving the planet?

In this regard, The Iridescent Yonder offers a subtle but effective push into the realm of action. Set your sails, it suggests. Protest against the intolerable. Safeguard the environment and cherish our fellow human beings. We could take it all sitting down, Sue seems to say, and there’s even a chair if you want to do that. But helpfully a nearby sign advises patrons to “sit with caution.” 

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The Iridescent Yonder was supported in part by the School of Art at George Mason University and a Gillespie Research Fellowship for exhibition assistance from Michelle Smith.

The Crown's Silhouette

Mark Isaac

I admit it. When it comes to the wild proliferation of images in the world, I’m an unreformed offender. Not only do I capture them recklessly and with abandon, but I store endless numbers of images in an ever-expanding battery of costly storage devices with a proclivity to fail.

And there’s nothing I’ve photographed more than trees. Since the very first days of my photographic habit, decades ago, when I started capturing the images of trees on the shiny reflective surfaces of cars, I’ve returned to trees with more frequency than any other subject. 

Why? I consider trees among the most beautiful things in the world. I know it’s considered unfashionable by some to prize the appearance of the natural world, lauded endlessly by so many for thousands of years, over objects that humans craft in this technological age with an intense focus on the perfection of their design. 

But the monsters of the plant world, clasping with an immense ball of roots deep into the earth, sending a monumental trunk skyward, and spreading a sheltering crown above our heads, offer ageless and undeniable visual delight. The diversity of species, shapes, sizes, barks, leaves, flowers, seeds. The manner in which branches seek the sunlight in imperfect symmetry. The wabi sabi of peeling bark, dead branches, knots, and burls. In some, the exquisite contradiction of stretching upward, then cascading downward in weeping fronds. 

And now comes word that, no fake news about it, something miraculous is happening. There is scientific confirmation that trees are not solitary, but instead communicate in huge, extended, complex underground fungal webs (known as mycorrhizal networks), sending alarms about danger, and sharing carbon, water and other nutrients. This impressive level of collaboration even extends beyond species. 

More than 5 years ago, I started making panoramic photographs of the tree canopy while walking underneath with my iPhone. The phone camera is prone to making “mistakes” as it strives to knit the images of the treetops together. But the fortuitous accidents it records seem to express the truth about trees better than the more representational image that the phone’s camera is designed to produce. They are images of trees reaching out to each other, vibrating with energy and motion, dancing and cavorting.

They are also images that capture the darkness that is upon us in the age of climate crisis and environmental collapse. The trees’ crowns appear as silhouettes of foreboding darkness, taking on anthropomorphic shapes, groaning in disbelief and pain, and whispering truths and organizing rebellion. After all, as a tree, there is much to fear: drought, extreme weather, the spread of wildfires, rampant legal and illegal logging, deforestation, the list goes on. These problems are worldwide and colossal in their implications.

I devoted only sporadic time and energy to the project until recently, while in lockdown in Prague. During the pandemic, our mental and physical health relies largely on spending long periods outside, running along the Vltava River or strolling through Prague’s impressive parks, such as Stromovka (named for its trees), Letna, Vitkov, or Krejcarik. The grandeur of the trees is always on prominent display, often alongside a demonstration of their fragility: the Slavic obsession with trimming them or cutting them down.

The final product of this effort will be panoramic images, but paranormal panoramas: images that reveal the trees in all their “vegetality,” as living, communicating beings with intention, expressing the magnificence of natural creation, as well as the fragility of our contemporary, interconnected world. They are images that capture the enormity of what is at stake, and the intense danger that plants and animals now face in the wake of catastrophic environmental damage.

The panoramas, which are difficult and time-consuming to create, are still in progress. But today I’m sharing one of them in addition to a series of details from the larger images that offer a window into the ongoing project. I hope you will enjoy them and that they will whet your appetite for the full panoramas to come. And I hope you’ll share your thoughts about this latest body of work in progress. 

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An example of a full panorama of the treetops, as part of a body of work currently in progress.

The Ways We Imagine The Future

Mark Isaac

Visual Catalysts is an international exhibition that appeared earlier this year in Tampere, Finland.  Focused on the worldwide climate crisis and other forms of environmental degradation, the exhibition sought  to promote new ways of visual representation that help spur real action toward a green and sustainable future. I was very pleased that several of my images from the series “Like Water Through Plastic” were included. 

Now, the catalog for the exhibition has been issued, including several important essays that focus on the included work. One essay in particular, titled The Ways We Imagine the Future, is focused very intensively on my series, and I wanted to share that here. 

Earlier, I’ve written in this space about the challenge of plastic pollution, which continues to be a daunting problem throughout the world. And I explained my process, which involved using found waste in the landscape, primarily plastic and glass, as a sort of “supplemental lens” to create photographs that call attention to the environmental degradation these objects cause.

The essay, however, doesn’t focus extensively on the negative impact of this form of pollution. Instead, the authors, Hanna Lehtimaki & Siiri Poyhonen of the University of Eastern Finland, chose to focus their attention on the transformative power of imagination in helping us bridge to a sustainable future.

According to the authors, “our imagination is in fact often rather limited,” because our experience of past events compromises our ability to project into the future. This limits  our focus to a “dystopic narrative” that “evokes emotions of despair and frustration and justifies passivity.” 

However, in the view of the authors, artists have the potential to break this cycle and direct us on a much more hopeful path. By shaking up our ways of thinking in ways that are both big and small, artists in the post-pandemic world can help us build on our strengths and proficiencies rather than remain passive in the face of overwhelming problems. “Artists are vital agents in encouraging imagination and opening challenges to participate in changemaking. They encourage us to realize possibilities, [and they] use hope as a lens in exploring what alternative ways of perceiving and acting we have.”

I am surprised and humbled and honored that the two professors believe my photographs are an example of this process, and I am indebted to them for reflecting on my work and sharing their ideas. But more importantly, it is extremely inspirational and encouraging for all artists working in this difficult time to receive this feedback and to be able to use the power of these sentiments to rededicate themselves to imagining a better future and contributing to real and lasting change. 

The text of the essay follows:

Visual Catalysts Exhibition Showcases Artwork on Environmental Transformation

Mark Isaac

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Visual Catalysts is an exhibition focused on the worldwide climate crisis and other forms of environmental degradation. It seeks to promote new ways of visual representation that will move artists beyond the task of '“raising awareness” and more firmly into the realm of spurring action.

As the curators noted, “We are living in a slow-motion climate crisis. Old ways of seeing got us here. Our way as consumers needs to be seen from fresh perspectives in order to move towards sustainability. Visual representations are a powerful global language and through a process of international co-creation, artists can be future change makers, creating new visual catalysts that can speak across cultures.”

I’m pleased that several of my images from the series “Like Water Through Plastic” have been included in the exhibition, which opens today at the gallery Laikku in Tampere, Finland, and runs through October 18. The work will also be included in an upcoming book that is being produced as an outcome of the Backlight 2020 Triennale. All of this work is part of larger projects that I’ve created in recent years with close collaborator (and life partner) Gabriela Bulisova.

Plastic pollution of our waterways is a critical issue facing the entire world. Approximately 300 million tons of plastic is produced yearly, and less than 10 percent is recycled. As many as 8 million tons per year ends in our oceans and waterways, where it entangles marine mammals, birds and fish and lodges in their stomachs, causing death. As plastic starts breaking into smaller particles, it is consumed by humans and may cause cancer and fertility problems. A recent study by the World Wildlife Fund found that most people consume the equivalent of one credit card of plastic per week. Plastic refuse is found in almost all waterways and has formed massive floating islands in our oceans.

After encountering numerous plastic and glass objects on land and in water, I chose to begin incorporating these found objects directly into our work as a sort of "supplemental lens." The distorted view of the landscape created by these objects is emblematic of the negative impact they have on the environment. At the same time, the subtle beauty of the images reminds us of the resilience of nature and the capacity of humans to solve this problem if there is enough will.

Examples of the types of “supplemental lenses” employed in the Like Water Through Plastic series. These objects were found in the immediate vicinity of Lake Baikal in Eastern Siberia, the world’s oldest, deepest, most voluminous, and most biologically diverse lake.

In years gone by, I used to think it was sufficient, as an artist pursuing socially conscious projects, to suggest that “raising awareness” was my primary goal. In the last several years, as the worldwide climate crisis worsens and makes its early effects known, we know that raising awareness is not sufficient. Not only artists, but all those who are aware of the significance of the challenge, must at least do their small part to contribute to advancing change.

Today, the task is even larger. In the face of obstinate opposition to change that enhances the chances of a cataclysm, we must do our part to link our efforts together with environmental activists, scientists, students, and other allies around the world. The goal must be to create a motivated, powerful and committed movement that can prevail over time. Only through worldwide cooperation and concerted action can we hope to prevail.

The Visual Catalysts exhibition is a good step in this direction. It suggests that all of us must be catalysts for meaningful action. Now it is up to us to persevere in the long-term and turn that initiative into accomplishment.

Paragon of Piety

Yam Chew Oh

In my sculptures, I employ the physicality and metaphorical potential of found or used materials to tell personal and familial stories.

My late father was a karung guni man, the Singapore equivalent of the rag-and-bone or junk man. [1] Growing up helping him with his trade had a deep impact on my love for ordinary and humble materials.

My mother had a hard life. She left Malaysia at 14 to work in Singapore so that she could help to support my grandparents, who were so poor they had to sell and give some of their 13 children up for adoption, and let a few of them die because they could not afford medication.

The Vow, acrylic paint on Post-it, anniversary bouquet ribbon, used grocery packaging, found wooden stick and metal mesh, and pin. Approx. 40 x 13 x 2 1/2 inches, 2018.

Mom is illiterate because my Grandpa felt that education was wasted on girls. But, my Grandma wanted Mom to “at least know how to write [her] own name,” so she sent her to a village tutor. Sadly, Mom gave up after a few lessons because she could not bear to see Grandma fending off lewd advances from lecherous village men the many nights she walked miles (with an oil lamp strapped to her forehead for light) to pick Mom up after class.

At 28, Mom married Dad, then a bread seller. We lived in an attap house [2] with my cousins and their four families. Mom bore Dad seven children and, even though she was trained as a seamstress, took on for years the bulk of the child-rearing duties while helping him with his odd jobs, as well as the back-breaking responsibilities for the family's pigs and poultry. When Dad had his first stroke, Mom was his sole caregiver for years. Nineteen years after he died from his third attack, Mom remains Dad's loyal widow—to remarry is unthinkable for someone who was raised to abide by age-old traditions; to question them would be sacrilegious. Mom is the exemplary "twenty-four paragons of filial piety wife” (二十四孝妻子), steadfast and unwavering in her duties as wife and mother. She wants her children to speak her late husband’s dialect (Hokkien) instead of hers (Teochew) because we must honor Dad - the patriarchal line - even though he is no longer with us.

The laundry handicap, used laundromat hangers and foam protective packaging, found bike bottle cage, dimensions variable, 2018.

I wish Mom could relax and enjoy her golden years, but to chill out and put her feet up are alien concepts to someone who has lived an arduous life bound by selfless duty to her family, and trapped under the weight of tradition, superstition, loyalty, and honor. She is helplessly preoccupied with the banal chores of daily living, such as laundry. I am still trying to comprehend why she could not just “let go” and not be consumed by housework and perpetual worries for her seven children, their six partners, and her four grandchildren. Even though Mom is incredibly resilient for her age and slight build, I worry for her when I think about how much more she could tolerate in her grueling life. Thankfully, she is beginning to understand the importance of self-care; the pandemic has impressed upon her a sense of urgency.

I have nothing but profound admiration and love for this amazing woman—without the privilege of an education, how she has managed to navigate this world for the last 76 years, with seven children in tow, is a miracle to me.

The widow’s lot, used cardboard photo frame corners, found mirror backing and scrap wood, 32 1/8 x 21 2/8 x 3 1/8 inches, 2018.

[1] The karung guni man is the Singapore equivalent of the 19th century rag-and-bone man in the UK, who scavenged unwanted rags, bones, metal, and other waste from the towns and cities where they lived and sold them to merchants. In America, they are called junk men, and in many developing countries, waste pickers. Karung guni are the Malay words for gunny/burlap sack, which was used in the past by Singapore karung guni men to hold the used newspaper they collected for resale. 

[2] The attap house is a traditional dwelling named after the attap palm (commonly known as the nipa or mangrove palm), which provides the wattle for the walls, and the leaves with which their roofs are thatched (the craft of building a roof with dry vegetation).

The Fish Cycle / Рыбный цикл

Valery Kondakov / Валерий Кондаков

Valery Kondakov, a contributor to Atlantika Collective, is a reclusive Siberian artist practicing in Eastern Siberia. His practice is extremely diverse, embracing painting, graphics, sculpture, decorative art, literature, and poetry. "The Fish Cycle" includes images of fish that were painted over an extended period of time. Kondakov writes, "This idea came to me 10 years ago. I gradually collected images, connecting them with situations in the community. So this cycle was composed." Kondakov's work can be described as neo-archaic, a movement in art that focuses on modern interpretations of the myth and ethnic roots of indigenous people in Siberia. In this series, the fish seem involved in all aspects of everyday life, from relationships to recreation to duplicity and scheming to the spiritual realm. And as the fish surface in our everyday life situations, they seem to inquire as to what kind of life we will choose: one that safeguards the natural world and each other, or something more nefarious? For more on Valery Kondakov and his artwork, please see our Members page.

Валерий Кондаков, сотрудник коллектива «Атлантика», сибирский художник-затворник, практикующий в Восточной Сибири. Его практика чрезвычайно разнообразна, она охватывает живопись, графику, скульптуру, декоративное искусство, литературу и поэзию. «Рыбный цикл» включает в себя изображения рыб, которые были нарисованы в течение длительного периода времени. Кондаков пишет: «Эта идея пришла ко мне 10 лет назад. Я постепенно собирал изображения, связывая их с ситуациями в обществе. Так что этот цикл был составлен». Работу Кондакова можно охарактеризовать как неоархаическое, движение в искусстве, которое фокусируется на современных интерпретациях мифа и этнических корней коренных народов Сибири. В этой серии рыбы кажутся вовлеченными во все аспекты повседневной жизни, от отношений до отдыха, от двуличия и интриги до духовного царства. И, по мере того, как рыбы появляются в наших повседневных жизненных ситуациях, они, кажется, спрашивают, какую жизнь мы выберем: ту, которая защищает мир природы и друг друга, или что-то более гнусное? Более подробную информацию о Валерии Кондакове и его работах можно найти на нашей странице участников.

“Fish-23,” 70 cm x 90 cm

"Рыбы-23" 70х90 х., м.

“Fish,” 46 cm x 35 cm

"Рыбы " 46х35 х., м.

“Fish-1’" 87.5 cm х 58 cm

Рыбы - 1" 87.5х58 х., м.

“Fish-15” 47 cm х 45 cm

"Рыбы-15" 47х45 х., м.

“Fish-14,” 55 cm x 79 cm

"Рыбы - 14" 55х79 х., м.

"We are not fish. Fish are mute," 33 cm x 82 cm, acrylic. '“Mute means silent. With your indifferent and obedient silence, meanness is easily committed.”.

"Мы - не рыбы. Рыбы немы." 33х82 х., м., акрил. “Немы - означает молчаливые. При твоём равнодушном и покорном молчании легко совершается подлость.”

"Fish-3" 43 cm x54 cm

"Рыбы-3" 43x54