I have been reading Seeing is Forgetting the Name of the Thing One Sees, a book written by Lawrence Weschler that follows over thirty years of documented conversations with the artist Robert Irwin. It is breaking my heart in the best way.

I think a lot about the cyclical and contradictory trajectory we are all on as artists. Always there is this pattern of building something up, only to arrive at a place where it becomes necessary to strip away; to get at the essence. But the amazing part is that the thing is somehow better for it. To have only started with the sphere would deprive the polygon somehow of its history and richness, though its surface qualities as it ultimately becomes a sphere may appear unencumbered.

Also! I started a welding and woodworking class, something I’ve wanted to take since college (but never found myself with any open electives). My grandfather was a machinist and my uncle a carpenter, so I am predisposed but have always been intimidated by the tools and the process and how to jump in. I mean, how do you shape metal? How does a nobby tree become a perfectly smooth, beautiful tabletop? I couldn’t be happier to get away from the computer for awhile and work with these basic materials.

I’ve been trying a new schedule out for the past couple of weeks. I get up at 5:30 or 6am and head over to my studio for an hour or two before going to work at the ol’ chocolate factory (pssst, we’re not really making chocolate).

I enjoy mornings, even really early ones. Once I am out of bed, that is. Some days I don’t make it in, but I’m trying not to be too judgmental with myself about it. Progress, even in small increments, is progress all the same. In the past, if I felt I didn’t have more than an hour of time to spend, I’d skip going all together. But I’ve found that even if I don’t have time to settle into a flow, even if I only have 30 minutes that day, the summation of the week’s progress is still rewarding.

Elevator Project – Poppy Test 11/02/10 from Michelle Higa on Vimeo.

MEGHAN: Can you start by describing the project? What is it exactly, and how did it get started?

CAMILLE: The project still doesn’t have a name yet. It’s for the new terminal at the Sacramento Airport. The idea was to create something that was interactive, which is like all of my work, but somewhat more ambiently interactive. So instead of using a camera to directly respond to gestures or movements, to think about how to react to overall patterns and movement in the space. So people can still make that connection but it’s not as one-to-one as a lot of my other work. That was partly responding to the idea that this is a ticketing terminal, so people are not, I don’t think, going to be hanging out there. Sacramento has a lot of return users, it’s not a hub, you know? It’s people coming and going from Sacramento, so I really liked the idea of making a piece that was a dynamic system that would always be different when they saw it. So the idea is that there are 14 LCD screens, at this point, up two sides of an elevator bay. And all of the movement and the animations [on the screens] are changing based on people pushing the elevator buttons and actually going from floor to floor.

MEGHAN: Can you talk about some of the very initial inspiration for it? Had you seen the space, and was that the impetus? Or did you have a very specific idea already in mind?

CAMILLE: It started with the space. So I actually interviewed for a totally different space in the airport. I was short-listed, and interviewed, and didn’t get that commission, but I guess it was so close between me and the other person who got it that the jury decided they wanted to try to offer me a different space in the airport. There were these two pedestrian bridges in the ticketing terminal which were slated to have functional art on them. So, tiles or something like that. So they kind of worked out, like, ‘Okay, we’ll give that space to Camille and maybe she’ll do some interactive thing in the floor.’ But then it turned out, they also sort of already knew that that was going to be a problem because they’d already commissioned another person in the meantime to do this huge rabbit [sculpture], Lawrence Argent. Those bridges are right by the rabbit, and so when they invited me to submit a proposal, they said, ‘You know, technically this commission is for these pedestrian bridges, but we understand that’s really not a great location right now [laughs], so can you look at the space and try to propose something else?’ So it was really just trying to figure out–and I had considered doing something on the side walls, I knew I needed to give the rabbit some space because he’s right in the middle–so it was really just trying to figure out a place in that terminal that made sense. And I think the verticality just made so much sense; because of the architecture, and because it’s this big open space. I was thinking maybe I could do something on the columns in there, but the architects were really–they didn’t want things happening around the columns, so in the end, everyone agreed that the elevator made sense. Especially because using that movement was coherent for tracking people in the space and showing that on the elevator [bay walls].

MEGHAN: What’s your connection with Michelle, and what led to her coming on board with the project?

CAMILLE: Michelle and I worked together for a long time when I lived in New York. She was actually my very first assistant I ever had. She’s amazing. She kind of whipped me into shape in some ways. I was like, ‘Oh, I really need you to help me get oranized!’ And part of what we did together when she was working with me was a lot of proposals. She was still just really learning animation, or, at least 3D digital animation type stuff at that time. So, it was like she was learning as we were trying to figure out how to render different ideas. And then I moved out here, she moved on, does all kinds of motion graphics now. So we’re really good friends, and had been talking about a way to collaborate for a really long time, but just had never gotten it together to find an opportunity. So when I was thinking about this and proposing it, I think because I wanted to do somewhat more realistic animations–like most of my animation stuff is really abstract because it’s code generated–I was like, ‘Oh, I need someone who knows a lot more about, like, how to do lighting, and how to really think about the storyboarding aspect of it too,’ because I knew I wanted it to have creatures or plants or things like that, and that’s just kind of outside my area of expertise. So I thought it was a great chance, where we could combine our skills and it’d be really fun. And luckily she was up for it!

Text Rain from Camille Utterback on Vimeo.

MEGHAN: Looking at your older work, and then looking over your proposal for this project, I was curious about your move in that more cinematic direction, versus the live camera input, one-to-one setup of your other work. Was that a natural evolution, or was it a conscious choice on your part?

CAMILLE: I think it was really a response to the space. Because when I was trying to figure out what to propose I did consider camera-based things. It just didn’t seem to make a lot of sense in that space. I’ve learned over time from doing the camera-based pieces, the context is really important in terms of if people want to hang out or if they’re moving quickly, or, sort of what they’re doing. And also there’re some issues with having all the light. That space [in Sacramento] has a ton of natural light in it, so I was a little bit worried about how to make something robust through darkness and lightness in such a huge space.

MEGHAN: And how to get the technical feedback?

CAMILLE: Yeah. But the main concern was really just, was that appropriate for the space? And in some ways, too, especially in doing the permanent commissions, camera-tracking doesn’t always make that much sense. So I had done the piece for St. Louis Park with the touch sensors, which is a real departure from that [camera-based work], too. And that was very much a response to the space. They actually wanted a camera-based thing in there and it just made much more sense to try to do something concise that focused around the stairwell. So I thought that was my best attempt to make the space interesting.

Aurora Organ from Camille Utterback on Vimeo.

MEGHAN: With this upcoming project, I thought it was interesting because unlike a lot of your other work, the activity in the elevator affects the imagery, but the people inside the elevator aren’t necessarily aware of the way that they’re effecting it because they can’t see the screens from inside. I was wondering how important that immediate bio-feedback with the work was to you, and seeing yourself affect the imagery, versus others seeing you affect the imagery?

CAMILLE: Well I think it, again, it’s that idea of ambient interaction. It’s a step back from that, so I think it’s really likely someone might use the elevator and have no idea that it’s affecting the animation. But if they’re coming to the airport frequently, they’ll see it again and be like, ‘Wow, that looks really different,’ or it’s like in this totally different mode. It might be on a scene where it’s really clear that the elevator is like ‘Oh, whoa, that just reacted to that.’ So I like the idea also that it’s a system that over time you have this kind of relationship with. And that it’s specific to that airport. It’s different than Chicago or something, where you have tons of people who may only pass through once in a while. They’re not returning to it over and over again. So I guess it’s not as important to me in this piece that you recognize right away that you’re affecting it. What’s important is that the animation is always changing, that it’s really evolving all the time. It’s not completely fixed. The way a fish moves might be canned in the sense that it’s rendered out, but where the fish is would always be different. You can either do that by setting up a system and having it run on its own, which is kind of less interesting to me than having it be open to something else that’s happening…

MEGHAN: And re-introducing variables all the time.

CAMILLE: Yeah.

MEGHAN: So do you feel like–maybe not in such a direct way–but do you feel like narrative is important in your work, or is it more about physical presence and action/reaction?

CAMILLE: I think people always develop a narrative on some level. So even the completely abstract work, because it’s reacting to them, people say things like, ‘Oh that’s following me,’ or, ‘Those things are running away from me,’ you know? People start attributing volition to marks. Just as soon as you have a mark that’s animating in a particular way, people attribute emotions to that. That’s why animation works, even really abstract stuff. And some pieces, like the Liquid Time Series, have much more–I don’t know if it’s narrative exactly–but you can imagine this is a moment. They’re like little kernels of narrative. There are people walking through train stations, someone looks at someone, so there’s a tiny moment of narrative, like, ‘What are they thinking when they do that?’ So I think it might be more narrative on that level. Like if there’s birds that move, or fly away when the elevator moves, there’s a sense of cause and effect. So maybe it’s more like linked cause-and-effect rather than an over-arching narrative.

You know, but I think we’re hoping to have the time of day affect whether it’s day or night [in the animation], things like that. It’s like, how do you link people rushing through the airport back into a bigger narrative of place? How do you bring people into awareness of what’s going on around them? So, I don’t know if that’s narrative or spacial. It’s thinking about where you are, or how do your even tiny actions create a rippling-out effect. I guess I’ve always been interested in that in terms of doing interactive work. If you create a system that reacts to people and they can understand that–which again, in this one, that’s a little more tenuous–but if it’s clear that they’re effecting a system, I think the questions it raises are like, ‘How am I affecting this? What changes happen because of my actions?’ Which, I think that’s what takes it into the realm of Art, because you’re asking bigger questions. You know, people are kind of taking the current example that they are experiencing, but hopefully that opens up to some other questions on some level. So again, there’s some interesting questions that come up that are fundamentally narrative because they’re about cause and effect.

MEGHAN: But they’re improvised.

CAMILLE: Yeah.

Liquid Time Series from Camille Utterback on Vimeo.

MEGHAN: So your installations are large and elaborate and take many months to execute. Can you talk about some of your working and/or coping methods? How do you keep your eye on the prize?

CAMILLE: [Laughs] I’m not sure, I think that’s still sort of a learning process. This one is obviously one of the biggest things I’ve done. The St. Louis Park project was somewhat similar in terms of size and complexity, I think. But that’s really the first one like that that I did. And that was just sort of lucky, I think, because of the other people that were involved. I had just amazing people volunteering and helping and pitching in. And I would have crashed and burned on that one, I think, if I had been totally left to my own devices. So a lot of it is just planning, trying to pay attention to what you have to get done by a certain time. And of course there’s still some scramble in it. So I think the real question–and maybe what you’re asking, too–is how do you keep the artwork in mind when you’re dealing with all these ideas?

MEGHAN: Yeah. Like, does it remain really vague in your mind or is it really explicit and it’s just a matter of getting there? Or are you sort of open to the ebb and flow of whatever changes happen along the way?

CAMILLE: I think in this one, in some ways the core idea is so clear that it’s easy [to keep in mind]. And so the work that’s there for me and Michelle to really figure out is how these animations actually work. So I feel like we’re just starting to scratch the surface of that. And I’m sure we won’t get to where we want, because that’s always the case, right? [laughs] So it’s like what amount of these questions about dynamic stuff, and how you make it look good [will we be able to address within the scope of the project]. I mean the other huge question I don’t think I could have anticipated were these scale issues. Like how do you make it read on all these different levels. That’s independent of the dynamic aspect. That would be a problem even if you were doing a linear animation. And the gaps in all the screens–some of those aesthetic issues are a whole other problem on top of the dynamic elements. So I guess that part to me is exciting. We’ll learn a lot within that, and hopefully something interesting will come out of that.

It’s really helpful actually to have another person involved. I’m finding on these bigger projects you have to have a team of people. And it’s really helpful to have someone else who’s like–you know, Michelle is only working on these animations and sending the images, and it keeps me excited while I’m trying to figure out, like, ‘How do I hire someone to program the OPC server to get the elevator data in to my code?’ You know, that kind of stuff. So, having people focusing on the different parts is really nice. Because if it’s just me trying to do that, it gets totally watered down and you just can’t focus on anything. So I think that’s maybe a key thing in doing these bigger projects, having a team where I can sort of art direct or throw ideas at Michelle and then she can actually do something while I’m trying to manage all these other things I’m working on.

I mean, it is frustrating. I’m trying to do much much smaller-scaled work now, too. Because the time-scale, that disconnect, like when you’re working with a big team, you don’t have quite the same relationship as when you’re painting…

MEGHAN: Right, it’s not as immediate.

CAMILLE: Yeah, so I do miss that. So there are plusses and minuses.

MEGHAN: Yeah, and to me your work seems, at least with these larger things, really compartmentalized. Where you are either in a visual mode of thinking, or you’re in a technical mode of thinking. I was curious if you, historically, have always favored one way of thinking or is one sort of a means to an end, or what the relationship between them is.

CAMILLE: I definitely like the technical aspects. So part of the–even though I complain about it–part of the fun of doing these big projects is these interesting problems. How do we get the data from the elevator? And how do you get to the right people; it’s not just the technology, it’s like the whole system. We’ve got to talk to elevator guys and get them interested, and get them to give us their proprietary software, and then figure out how to get the data out. And then just the physical questions, like working with the structural engineers, and how the heck do we hang all these screens and get the cables… It’s problem solving. I mean, Art is problem solving.

So I do like that part of the technical aspect and I feel like if the work in the end is something you couldn’t have done in another way, then it’s clear that it–it’s more than the sum of its parts. By having someone who can understand the technology to a certain extent and is coming from an art background and looking at it, you get something that’s different than a group of engineers doing something, or a group of artists who aren’t really interested in the coding elements. I mean, in this piece you could do an incredible animation on these screens if you were just coming from animation, had no interest in dynamic anything. But I think over time it would start to feel repetitive, when people are coming back all the time. So I do think that having to get deep into all these other issues allows me to do something new. I like both parts of it.

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For more information on the Sacramento Airport project, or to see more of her work, visit Camille’s website at: http://www.camilleutterback.com

For more information on Michelle Higa, visit her site at http://www.slanted.org

“Saying this is not the same as saying, we shouldn’t write on word processors, the only thing is the quill pen. There is nothing retrograde about saying this; you are recognizing that there are things that just don’t translate into other mediums. But you see, they think this because they have been born in a world that is entirely made of weightless images.”

- Robert Hughes via Salon.com, 1997. Read the rest here.

I wish I could be a giant, then I could lie with my head near the snows on one of the Alps, lie there among the goats, with my toes splashing below in the deep lake. So I would lie there and never get up again, between my fingers the bushes would grow, and the wild roses of the Alps in my hair, my knees would be alpine foothills, and vineyards would stand on my body, and houses, and chapels. And so for ten thousand years I lie there, and gaze into the heavens, and gaze into the lake. When I sneeze, there’s a thunderstorm. When I breathe the snow melts, and the waterfalls dance. When I die, the whole world dies. Then I journey across the world’s ocean, to bring back a new sun.

Where am I going to sleep tonight? Who cares! What is the world doing? Have new gods been discovered, new laws, new freedoms? Who cares! But up here a primrose is blossoming and bearing silver fuzz on its leaves, and the light sweet wind is singing below me in the poplars, and between my eyes and heaven a dark golden bee is hovering and humming–I care about that. It is humming the song of happiness, humming the song of eternity. Its song is my history of the world.

– Hermann Hesse

So I want to try something new around here. I take a good amount of pictures throughout the week. Sometimes it’s because certain colors or architecture catch my eye, maybe an interesting texture, or something ironic. And while I don’t have any sort of secret ambition to become a photography wiz, it would be nice to catalogue them somehow, somewhere.

I think it’s a valuable exercise to take photos. It offers a nearly instant process for experimenting with things like framing a composition, observing the principles of natural phenomena like light and physics, and manipulating the perception of those phenomena. Not to mention, capturing and expressing narrative.

I thought a little bit about starting an entirely separate blog to share the photos, but honestly, when I see other artists compartmentalize their work across various blogs, it makes me crazy. There is already too much to keep track of in life, people! This is why they invented tagging. And anyway, since this blog in large part is to record and share my process, I think the photos have a valid place here. I hope you all think so, too.

So I’ll be cataloging all my photo ventures under the ‘Secret City’ tag. Look out, San Francisco.

A couple of weeks ago I got my wish and fatty snow flakes started drifting down onto Portland rooftops in the middle of the afternoon. By the time daylight was gone, the city was a wreck. It took chris more than 5 hours to get home from work. He swears to me there were zombies on the road. Later that night we walked to a nearby bar and cozied up with friends over hot food and drink. Not particularly unusual, but I remember thinking, this is a great night. I think snow is magic that way.

My mom recently mailed me some art that she’s had stored away in boxes since I was a kid. This drawing of Pongo, from 101 Dalmations, I did when I was 7. The lines at the top that get cut off are where I wrote “bad drawing!!!” largely across the top of the page. I’m glad mom snatched this up before I had a chance to toss it–I wish I still drew this good!

I gave this drawing to Chris this year for his birthday since he loves nautical themes so much. There are a lot of questions I would love to ask my 6-year-old self about this drawing. Like, why does the cloud get an outline, but not the chimney smoke? Why do pirates get facial features, but not princesses? Is that a spy approaching the ship in scuba gear? The other thing I love about this, which you can faintly see, is that I drew it on the back of my (still uncompleted) math homework. Who wants to do fractions when you can draw pirates?!

“As I walked away from the Eagle Lunar Module, Neil said ‘Hold it, Buzz’, so I stopped and turned around, and then he took what has become known as the ‘Visor’ photo. I like this photo because it captures the moment of a solitary human figure against the horizon of the Moon, along with a reflection in my helmet’s visor of our home away from home, the Eagle, and of Neil snapping the photo. Here we were, farther away from the rest of humanity than any two humans had ever ventured. Yet, in another sense, we became inextricably connected to the hundreds of millions watching us more than 240,000 miles away. In this one moment, the world came together in peace for all mankind.”

- Buzz Aldrin in Apollo Through the Eyes of the Astronauts

I have tremendous respect for astronauts. To be so empirically brilliant and yet still have that ferocious spirit of adventure–extreme sports ain’t got nothin’ on ‘em, if you ask me. Most astronauts devote their entire lives to the study of space and keep up rigorous physical training without knowing if they’ll ever get the chance to even be part of a mission. See more of these amazing Apollo images here.

– Stefan Klein in The Secret Pulse of Time

“The clock, not the steam-engine, is the key-machine of the modern industrial age.”

– Lewis Mumford

“If you can’t define yourself right now,” [David Zwirner] said, “you’re going to get swallowed up, because the ones who do define themselves are going to take all of the business.”

Lisa Spellman, the owner of 303 Gallery, said: “What drives me crazy are these clichés that say only the very, very best survive. I don’t believe that recessions are Darwinian systems.”

Some interesting thoughts from a NY Times article about the economic climate of art galleries right now in New York. However, I did let out an audible snort over this line:

…With half of a dealer’s profits typically going to the artist, he said, “that doesn’t give much room to run a business.”

“Even at best talent remains a constant, and those who rely upon that gift alone, without developing further, peak quickly and soon fade to obscurity. Examples of genius only accentuate that truth. Newspapers love to print stories about five-year-old musical prodigies giving solo recitals, but you rarely read about one going on to become a Mozart. The point here is that whatever his initial gift, Mozart was also an artist who learned to work on his work, and thereby improved. In that respect he shares common ground with the rest of us. Artists get better by sharpening their skills or by acquiring new ones; they get better by learning to work, and by learning from their work. They commit themselves to the work of their heart, and act upon that commitment. So when you ask, “Then why doesn’t it come easily for me?”, the answer is probably, “Because making art is hard!” What you end up caring about is what you do, not whether the doing came hard or easy.”

- David Bayles and Ted Orland
Art & Fear: Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking
(via the Underpaintings Blog)

I’ve been going through some old family photos lately. The above photograph is of a car that my grandfather built, with some kind of registration number written on the back. He carried this around with him in his wallet for years. Unfortunately, when he was older and living in an assisted living home, one of the nurses accidentally washed his wallet along with his pants, damaging the photo.