Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Chuck Close and 10 Amazing Photorealist Painters: Alison Van Pelt, Jason de Graaf, Paul Cadden, etc. by Jason de Graaf
Photorealism, also known as Super-Realism,
New Realism, Sharp Focus Realism or Hyper-Realism, involves artists
employing photographs to create their paintings. The style evolved out
of Pop art as a sort of resistance to Abstract Expression and Minimalism
in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Photorealist artists create works
that are hyper illusionistic; compelling viewers to wonder and marvel at
the work’s resemblance to reality. Employing a variety of techniques
artists seek to generate paintings with a high level of representational
verisimilitude. Photo realists use the camera or photographs to gather
information. They may also rely on a mechanical device to transfer the
image to the canvas, such as a projector, though the artist still
requires a high level of skill to complete the work. Usually employing
multiple photographs, artists involved with the style are interested in
technical or pictorial challenges that might include unique surfaces or
textures.
Pioneers of the movement include painters
such as Richard Estes, Robert Bechtle and Tom Blackwell. One of the
best-known photorealist painters, Chuck Close,
works using a gridded photograph. A spinal artery collapse in 1988
left Close severely paralyzed. After the injury Close continued to
paint, creating large portraits in low-resolution grid squares created
by an assistant. From afar, these squares appear as a unified image,
but in pixelated form.
Today there are a myriad of artists practicing photorealism including Alison Van Pelt, Paul Cadden, David Kassan, Gregory Thielker, Diego Fazio, Bryan Drury, Jason de Graaf, and Ben Weiner .
With the advancement of technology, contemporary photo realist artists
are able to achieve paintings that exceed the capabilities of
photography—capturing details the lens may not, or achieving an
extraordinary level of precision. Often these photo realists are
referred to as hyperrealists as the images resemble one, or an
amalgamation of, high-resolution photographs. Inspiring and impressive,
photo realists’ works tease the imagination and challenge perception.
by Jason de Graaf
by Jason de Graaf
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
The Art of Elysium - Pieces of Heaven - Benefit Art Auction partnered with Paddle 8 and Christie's Los Angeles
The Art of Elysium’s 2013 Pieces of Heaven Auction has partnered with Paddle 8 and Christie's Los Angeles
The Art of Elysium’s 6th Annual Pieces of Heaven charity art auction reflects the individual journey each participating artist takes and expresses through their chosen medium. All proceeds raised from artwork sold at Pieces of Heaven will benefit The Art of Elysium’s Fine Arts program; Elysium Project: a platform that merges contemporary art with philanthropy. The Art of Elysium is committed to supporting emerging, mid-career and established artists through discerning art exhibitions, public art initiatives and special events, while simultaneously creating the infrastructure to ensure that medically disabled children have access to quality, educational and therapeutic arts experiences. The Art of Elysium, a non-profit founded in 1997, encourages working actors, artists and musicians to volunteer their time and talent to children who are battling serious medical conditions.
Participating artists for Pieces of Heaven include 2wenty, Ansel Adams, David Arquette, Samuel Bayer, Adarsha Benjamin, Mattia Biagi, Pete Black, Stella Blu, Mr. Brainwash, Matthew Brandt, Steve Burtch, Scott Caan, David Caruso & Alan Locke, Victor Castillo, Eric Hayden French Circuns, Gilles D’amecourt, Charlotte De Cock, Beau Dunn, Steve Erle, David Fahey, Shepard Fairey, Ben Folds, Elisabeth Fried, Friends With You, James Georgopoulos, Brian Graf, Emilie Halpern, Daniel J. Healey, David Hendren, Patrick Hoelck, Todd Hido, Ernest Holzman, Alvaro Ilizarbe, Hellin Kay, Terence Koh, Curtis Kulig, Mark Leibowitz, Laura Letinsky, John Lurie, Aaron Garber-Maikovska, Michael Miller, Michael Muller, Ben Murphey, Aiko Nakagawa, Waleska Nomura, How and Nosm, Quam Odunsi, Dennis Oppenheim, Chris Otcasek, Cheryl Pope, Alex Prager, Vanessa Prager, Carlos Davila Rinaldi, Mariah Robertson, Bert Rodriguez, James Rosenquist, Howard Ruby, Sarah Sandin, Alessandra Sanguinetti, John Patrick Salisbury, Steve Shaw, Gregory Siff, Melvin Sokolsky, Lisa Solberg, Cole Sternberg, Donald Sultan, Joseph Szabo, Holly Thoburn, Carlo Van de Roer, Alison Van Pelt, James Verbicky, Kelly Wearstler, Rachel Perry Welty, Xvala, Russell Young, Alexander Yulish
The Art of Elysium’s 6th Annual Pieces of Heaven charity art auction reflects the individual journey each participating artist takes and expresses through their chosen medium. All proceeds raised from artwork sold at Pieces of Heaven will benefit The Art of Elysium’s Fine Arts program; Elysium Project: a platform that merges contemporary art with philanthropy. The Art of Elysium is committed to supporting emerging, mid-career and established artists through discerning art exhibitions, public art initiatives and special events, while simultaneously creating the infrastructure to ensure that medically disabled children have access to quality, educational and therapeutic arts experiences. The Art of Elysium, a non-profit founded in 1997, encourages working actors, artists and musicians to volunteer their time and talent to children who are battling serious medical conditions.
Participating artists for Pieces of Heaven include 2wenty, Ansel Adams, David Arquette, Samuel Bayer, Adarsha Benjamin, Mattia Biagi, Pete Black, Stella Blu, Mr. Brainwash, Matthew Brandt, Steve Burtch, Scott Caan, David Caruso & Alan Locke, Victor Castillo, Eric Hayden French Circuns, Gilles D’amecourt, Charlotte De Cock, Beau Dunn, Steve Erle, David Fahey, Shepard Fairey, Ben Folds, Elisabeth Fried, Friends With You, James Georgopoulos, Brian Graf, Emilie Halpern, Daniel J. Healey, David Hendren, Patrick Hoelck, Todd Hido, Ernest Holzman, Alvaro Ilizarbe, Hellin Kay, Terence Koh, Curtis Kulig, Mark Leibowitz, Laura Letinsky, John Lurie, Aaron Garber-Maikovska, Michael Miller, Michael Muller, Ben Murphey, Aiko Nakagawa, Waleska Nomura, How and Nosm, Quam Odunsi, Dennis Oppenheim, Chris Otcasek, Cheryl Pope, Alex Prager, Vanessa Prager, Carlos Davila Rinaldi, Mariah Robertson, Bert Rodriguez, James Rosenquist, Howard Ruby, Sarah Sandin, Alessandra Sanguinetti, John Patrick Salisbury, Steve Shaw, Gregory Siff, Melvin Sokolsky, Lisa Solberg, Cole Sternberg, Donald Sultan, Joseph Szabo, Holly Thoburn, Carlo Van de Roer, Alison Van Pelt, James Verbicky, Kelly Wearstler, Rachel Perry Welty, Xvala, Russell Young, Alexander Yulish
The Art of Elysium's main focus is to create the infrastructure to ensure that medically disabled children have access to the very best therapeutic and educational arts experiences, while supporting upcoming, mid-career and well-established artists with the help of special events, art exhibitions and public art initiatives.
In 1997 The Art of Elysium, a non-profit was founded to help children who are battling serious medical conditions with the help of the talent and volunteer time of artists, actors and musicians.
Guests kicked off the night with live entertainment, CIROC Vodka cocktails and hors d’oeuvres as they had the opportunity to bid on over 70 works of art. In support of the charity, these very same artworks were donated by private collectors, dealers and artists. However, in benefit of The Art of Elysium Project the rather unique artwork was available for purchase during a live and silent auction by Auctioneer Andrea Fiuczynski and in partnership with Christie’s.
The organization was pleased that many artists showed great support by each buying 3-4 pieces of artwork by other artists, while others really out did themselves by making the highest bid of the night which was $10,000 for a Shepard Fairey piece. Throughout the night guests enjoyed taking pictures in front of a backdrop of all the artists’ faces created by Gregory Stiff. David Arquette even joined in on the bidding of a Beau Dunn’s photograph of Barbie in hopes to win a gift for his daughter Coco, but sadly was outbid. He did win the bid on the painting by Alison Van Pelt.
The guests included Eugene Sadovoy, Cameron Silver, Abigail Spencer, Jason Statham, Kate Upton, Alicia Witt, David Arquette, Topher Grace, Alice Gretczyn, Shanola Hampton, Rachael Harris and many more. Plus participating artists for Pieces of Heaven included David Caruso & Alan Locke, Victor Castillo, Eric Hayden French Circuns, Gilles D’amecourt, Charlotte De Cock, Beau Dunn, Steve Erle, David Fahey, Shepard Fairey, Ben Folds, Elisabeth Fried, Friends With You, James Georgopoulos, Brian Graf, Emilie Halpern, Daniel J. Healey, David Hendren, Patrick Hoelck, Todd Hido, Ernest Holzman, Alvaro Ilizarbe, Hellin Kay, Terence Koh, Curtis Kulig, Mark Leibowitz, 2wenty, Ansel Adams, David Arquette, Samuel Bayer, Adarsha Benjamin, Mattia Biagi, Pete Black, Stella Blu, Mr. Brainwash, Matthew Brandt, Steve Burtch, Scott Caan, Laura Letinsky, John Lurie, Aaron Garber-Maikovska, Michael Miller, Michael Muller, Ben Murphey, Aiko Nakagawa, Waleska Nomura, How and Nosm, Quam Odunsi, Dennis Oppenheim, Chris Otcasek, Cheryl Pope, Alex Prager, Vanessa Prager, Carlos Davila Rinaldi, Mariah Robertson, Bert Rodriguez, Alison Van Pelt, James Verbicky, Kelly Wearstler, Rachel Perry Welty, Xvala, Russell Young, Alexander Yulish, James Rosenquist, Howard Ruby, Sarah Sandin , Alessandra Sanguinetti, John Patrick Salisbury, Steve Shaw, Gregory Siff, Melvin Sokolsky, Lisa Solberg, Cole Sternberg, Donald Sultan, Joseph Szabo, Holly Thoburn, and Carlo Van de Roer.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Ports of Entry: William Burroughs, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, cover art by Alison Van Pelt, portrait of William Burroughs, oil on canvas
Ports of Entry: William Burroughs and the Arts. The book accompanies the eponymous exhibition curated by Robert Sobiezek at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, held July to October, 1996, cover art by Alison Van Pelt.
William Burroughs and the Arts: Ports of Entry book cover.
"Nothing is True - Everything is Permitted - - Last words, Hassan I Sabbah", Nova Express.
published by Los Angeles County Museum of Art, distributed by Thames & Hudson.
(c) 1996 by Museum Associates LA County Museum of Art.
Cover image by Alison Van Pelt, William Burroughs, 1992, Oil on canvas.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
LA CONFIDENTIAL, ALISON VAN PELT by GILLIAN WYNN
A Drink & Some Ink
By Gillian Wynn
Read more at http://la-confidential-magazine.com/living/articles/a-drink-and-some-ink#0eZBPoZ0TqolfUdE.99
A Drink & Some Ink
By Gillian Wynn
Read more at http://la-confidential-magazine.com/living/articles/a-drink-and-some-ink#0eZBPoZ0TqolfUdE.99
A DRINK AND SOME INK BY GILLIAN WYNN
To mark the anniversary, earlier in the day I convince Alison to come with me to Ink Monkey Tattoo in Venice because she is a brilliant painter. But before I go under the buzzing needle, I visit her studio/home in Santa Monica Canyon to see her work for the first time. Her large canvases immediately draw me in. While the images are soft and unfocused—even impressionistic— there is an underlying sense of exactitude and realism. When Alison explains her technique to me, it makes perfect sense. She meticulously maps out and sketches an image, rendering it with surgical precision. The deliberate blurring comes later in the painting process. The effect is both academic and poetic—perfectionism pursued, achieved, then abandoned. I love it.
Before we leave her studio, we make preparations for the creation of a different kind of art. We print out the words for my tattoo in a font that I have chosen and Alison has approved.
On our way to Venice, we stop at Urth Caffé on Main Street. Over lunch I ask Alison about growing up in LA and becoming an artist. What she tells me is a classic bohemian tale beautifully braided with history. Her grandmother owned a five-story mansion in the Hollywood Hills that was built at the turn of the century and was once surrounded by orange groves. When Alison was a small child, her father went to live on a commune, and she and her mother moved into the mansion with her grandmother and three “brilliant scientist” uncles. Several years later, when her father returned, they moved to Venice, where everyone grew their own vegetables (among other things) and the children ran around barefoot all the time. A child hippie, Alison was even practicing yoga by age five (her father was legendary yogi Ganga White’s attorney). By high school, however, Alison was living a more conventional life in Pacific Palisades, earning straight As and scholarships. She went to UCLA, but after a few months dropped out and moved to Hawaii. It was there that Alison fell in love with a man who encouraged her to pursue her calling as an artist. She returned to LA, began taking classes in Brentwood and sold her first painting to Norton Simon’s grandson, who hung it over his mantel between two Picassos.
I want to sit here all day, eating olives at Urth and listening to Alison’s stories, but we are on a mission, and it is time to move on. When we finally arrive at Ink Monkey, we find that Jeff—the tattoo artist I came to see—is occupied for another 30 minutes. I am ready to get in the chair, and just as a cliff diver might feel, when you are standing at the edge, you really need to jump. If you hang out too long, the jitters take hold. I am thrilled to learn Alison shares my fondness for tequila, and that’s how we end up at Hal’s.
Sitting at the bar, I start to reflect on where I was and how different LA was on this very day 17 years ago. Then, I was starting out, my future unknowable, my self unknown. The city was unfamiliar and unpredictable. Now in the wake of my divorce, I am starting out again in a way, my future still unknowable but my self known. The city is my home and strangely intimate. I envy Alison’s deep and romantic history here, then realize I now have my own as well.
When we return to Ink Monkey, Jeff is ready. He lays out three stenciled lines of text across the inside of my right forearm. I hold it up for Alison’s approval. She scrutinizes it with an artist’s eye and tells me one line is slightly askew. A smile spreads across my face. I turn to Jeff, tell him to leave it as it is and begin. Alison has inspired the artist in me who sees the beauty in embracing imperfection.
To mark the anniversary, earlier in the day I convince Alison to come with me to Ink Monkey Tattoo in Venice because she is a brilliant painter. But before I go under the buzzing needle, I visit her studio/home in Santa Monica Canyon to see her work for the first time. Her large canvases immediately draw me in. While the images are soft and unfocused—even impressionistic— there is an underlying sense of exactitude and realism. When Alison explains her technique to me, it makes perfect sense. She meticulously maps out and sketches an image, rendering it with surgical precision. The deliberate blurring comes later in the painting process. The effect is both academic and poetic—perfectionism pursued, achieved, then abandoned. I love it.
Before we leave her studio, we make preparations for the creation of a different kind of art. We print out the words for my tattoo in a font that I have chosen and Alison has approved.
On
our way to Venice, we stop at Urth Caffé on Main Street. Over lunch I
ask Alison about growing up in LA and becoming an artist. What she tells
me is a classic bohemian tale beautifully braided with history. Her
grandmother owned a five-story mansion in the Hollywood Hills that was
built at the turn of the century and was once surrounded by orange
groves. When Alison was a small child, her father went to live on a
commune, and she and her mother moved into the mansion with her
grandmother and three “brilliant scientist” uncles. Several years later,
when her father returned, they moved to Venice, where everyone grew
their own vegetables (among other things) and the children ran around
barefoot all the time. A child hippie, Alison was even practicing yoga
by age five (her father was legendary yogi Ganga White’s attorney). By
high school, however, Alison was living a more conventional life in
Pacific Palisades, earning straight As and scholarships. She went to
UCLA, but after a few months dropped out and moved to Hawaii. It was
there that Alison fell in love with a man who encouraged her to pursue
her calling as an artist. She returned to LA, began taking classes in
Brentwood and sold her first painting to Norton Simon’s grandson, who
hung it over his mantel between two Picassos.I want to sit here all day, eating olives at Urth and listening to Alison’s stories, but we are on a mission, and it is time to move on. When we finally arrive at Ink Monkey, we find that Jeff—the tattoo artist I came to see—is occupied for another 30 minutes. I am ready to get in the chair, and just as a cliff diver might feel, when you are standing at the edge, you really need to jump. If you hang out too long, the jitters take hold. I am thrilled to learn Alison shares my fondness for tequila, and that’s how we end up at Hal’s.
Sitting at the bar, I start to reflect on where I was and how different LA was on this very day 17 years ago. Then, I was starting out, my future unknowable, my self unknown. The city was unfamiliar and unpredictable. Now in the wake of my divorce, I am starting out again in a way, my future still unknowable but my self known. The city is my home and strangely intimate. I envy Alison’s deep and romantic history here, then realize I now have my own as well.
When we return to Ink Monkey, Jeff is ready. He lays out three stenciled lines of text across the inside of my right forearm. I hold it up for Alison’s approval. She scrutinizes it with an artist’s eye and tells me one line is slightly askew. A smile spreads across my face. I turn to Jeff, tell him to leave it as it is and begin. Alison has inspired the artist in me who sees the beauty in embracing imperfection.
Read more at http://la-confidential-magazine.com/living/articles/a-drink-and-some-ink#0eZBPoZ0TqolfUdE.99
It
is Wednseday afternoon on April 29, just after 2 PM. My friend Alison
Van Pelt and I are drinking Quita Penas tequila at Hal’s Bar & Grill
on Abbot Kinney. We are talking about history, our own and that of our
city. In my head, I am hearing “Under the Bridge” by the Red Hot Chili
Peppers because that was what I was listening to on April 29, 1992, when
I got my first tattoo on Sunset Boulevard, and LA was burning. I had
just made this city my home less than a year before the riots broke out.
The line between the good guys and the bad guys was obscured. There
were citywide curfews, South Central was self-destructing and Rodney
King was a household name. I was fresh out of college and had just
wrapped a five-month stint as a set production assistant on Batman Returns.
I had no job, no direction and no friends. The song was eerily
thematic: “The city I live in, the city of angels, lonely as I am...”
Sitting on the rooftop of my apartment building in Westwood, I looked
south toward the smoky skies, drew a snake around my ankle and headed to
Hollywood to make it permanent.
To mark the anniversary, earlier in the day I convince Alison to come with me to Ink Monkey Tattoo in Venice because she is a brilliant painter. But before I go under the buzzing needle, I visit her studio/home in Santa Monica Canyon to see her work for the first time. Her large canvases immediately draw me in. While the images are soft and unfocused—even impressionistic— there is an underlying sense of exactitude and realism. When Alison explains her technique to me, it makes perfect sense. She meticulously maps out and sketches an image, rendering it with surgical precision. The deliberate blurring comes later in the painting process. The effect is both academic and poetic—perfectionism pursued, achieved, then abandoned. I love it.
Before we leave her studio, we make preparations for the creation of a different kind of art. We print out the words for my tattoo in a font that I have chosen and Alison has approved.
On
our way to Venice, we stop at Urth Caffé on Main Street. Over lunch I
ask Alison about growing up in LA and becoming an artist. What she tells
me is a classic bohemian tale beautifully braided with history. Her
grandmother owned a five-story mansion in the Hollywood Hills that was
built at the turn of the century and was once surrounded by orange
groves. When Alison was a small child, her father went to live on a
commune, and she and her mother moved into the mansion with her
grandmother and three “brilliant scientist” uncles. Several years later,
when her father returned, they moved to Venice, where everyone grew
their own vegetables (among other things) and the children ran around
barefoot all the time. A child hippie, Alison was even practicing yoga
by age five (her father was legendary yogi Ganga White’s attorney). By
high school, however, Alison was living a more conventional life in
Pacific Palisades, earning straight As and scholarships. She went to
UCLA, but after a few months dropped out and moved to Hawaii. It was
there that Alison fell in love with a man who encouraged her to pursue
her calling as an artist. She returned to LA, began taking classes in
Brentwood and sold her first painting to Norton Simon’s grandson, who
hung it over his mantel between two Picassos.
I want to sit here all day, eating olives at Urth and listening to Alison’s stories, but we are on a mission, and it is time to move on. When we finally arrive at Ink Monkey, we find that Jeff—the tattoo artist I came to see—is occupied for another 30 minutes. I am ready to get in the chair, and just as a cliff diver might feel, when you are standing at the edge, you really need to jump. If you hang out too long, the jitters take hold. I am thrilled to learn Alison shares my fondness for tequila, and that’s how we end up at Hal’s.
Sitting at the bar, I start to reflect on where I was and how different LA was on this very day 17 years ago. Then, I was starting out, my future unknowable, my self unknown. The city was unfamiliar and unpredictable. Now in the wake of my divorce, I am starting out again in a way, my future still unknowable but my self known. The city is my home and strangely intimate. I envy Alison’s deep and romantic history here, then realize I now have my own as well.
When we return to Ink Monkey, Jeff is ready. He lays out three stenciled lines of text across the inside of my right forearm. I hold it up for Alison’s approval. She scrutinizes it with an artist’s eye and tells me one line is slightly askew. A smile spreads across my face. I turn to Jeff, tell him to leave it as it is and begin. Alison has inspired the artist in me who sees the beauty in embracing imperfection.
Read more at http://la-confidential-magazine.com/living/articles/a-drink-and-some-ink#0eZBPoZ0TqolfUdE.99
To mark the anniversary, earlier in the day I convince Alison to come with me to Ink Monkey Tattoo in Venice because she is a brilliant painter. But before I go under the buzzing needle, I visit her studio/home in Santa Monica Canyon to see her work for the first time. Her large canvases immediately draw me in. While the images are soft and unfocused—even impressionistic— there is an underlying sense of exactitude and realism. When Alison explains her technique to me, it makes perfect sense. She meticulously maps out and sketches an image, rendering it with surgical precision. The deliberate blurring comes later in the painting process. The effect is both academic and poetic—perfectionism pursued, achieved, then abandoned. I love it.
Before we leave her studio, we make preparations for the creation of a different kind of art. We print out the words for my tattoo in a font that I have chosen and Alison has approved.
On
our way to Venice, we stop at Urth Caffé on Main Street. Over lunch I
ask Alison about growing up in LA and becoming an artist. What she tells
me is a classic bohemian tale beautifully braided with history. Her
grandmother owned a five-story mansion in the Hollywood Hills that was
built at the turn of the century and was once surrounded by orange
groves. When Alison was a small child, her father went to live on a
commune, and she and her mother moved into the mansion with her
grandmother and three “brilliant scientist” uncles. Several years later,
when her father returned, they moved to Venice, where everyone grew
their own vegetables (among other things) and the children ran around
barefoot all the time. A child hippie, Alison was even practicing yoga
by age five (her father was legendary yogi Ganga White’s attorney). By
high school, however, Alison was living a more conventional life in
Pacific Palisades, earning straight As and scholarships. She went to
UCLA, but after a few months dropped out and moved to Hawaii. It was
there that Alison fell in love with a man who encouraged her to pursue
her calling as an artist. She returned to LA, began taking classes in
Brentwood and sold her first painting to Norton Simon’s grandson, who
hung it over his mantel between two Picassos.I want to sit here all day, eating olives at Urth and listening to Alison’s stories, but we are on a mission, and it is time to move on. When we finally arrive at Ink Monkey, we find that Jeff—the tattoo artist I came to see—is occupied for another 30 minutes. I am ready to get in the chair, and just as a cliff diver might feel, when you are standing at the edge, you really need to jump. If you hang out too long, the jitters take hold. I am thrilled to learn Alison shares my fondness for tequila, and that’s how we end up at Hal’s.
Sitting at the bar, I start to reflect on where I was and how different LA was on this very day 17 years ago. Then, I was starting out, my future unknowable, my self unknown. The city was unfamiliar and unpredictable. Now in the wake of my divorce, I am starting out again in a way, my future still unknowable but my self known. The city is my home and strangely intimate. I envy Alison’s deep and romantic history here, then realize I now have my own as well.
When we return to Ink Monkey, Jeff is ready. He lays out three stenciled lines of text across the inside of my right forearm. I hold it up for Alison’s approval. She scrutinizes it with an artist’s eye and tells me one line is slightly askew. A smile spreads across my face. I turn to Jeff, tell him to leave it as it is and begin. Alison has inspired the artist in me who sees the beauty in embracing imperfection.
Read more at http://la-confidential-magazine.com/living/articles/a-drink-and-some-ink#0eZBPoZ0TqolfUdE.99
It
is Wednseday afternoon on April 29, just after 2 PM. My friend Alison
Van Pelt and I are drinking Quita Penas tequila at Hal’s Bar & Grill
on Abbot Kinney. We are talking about history, our own and that of our
city. In my head, I am hearing “Under the Bridge” by the Red Hot Chili
Peppers because that was what I was listening to on April 29, 1992, when
I got my first tattoo on Sunset Boulevard, and LA was burning. I had
just made this city my home less than a year before the riots broke out.
The line between the good guys and the bad guys was obscured. There
were citywide curfews, South Central was self-destructing and Rodney
King was a household name. I was fresh out of college and had just
wrapped a five-month stint as a set production assistant on Batman Returns.
I had no job, no direction and no friends. The song was eerily
thematic: “The city I live in, the city of angels, lonely as I am...”
Sitting on the rooftop of my apartment building in Westwood, I looked
south toward the smoky skies, drew a snake around my ankle and headed to
Hollywood to make it permanent.
To mark the anniversary, earlier in the day I convince Alison to come with me to Ink Monkey Tattoo in Venice because she is a brilliant painter. But before I go under the buzzing needle, I visit her studio/home in Santa Monica Canyon to see her work for the first time. Her large canvases immediately draw me in. While the images are soft and unfocused—even impressionistic— there is an underlying sense of exactitude and realism. When Alison explains her technique to me, it makes perfect sense. She meticulously maps out and sketches an image, rendering it with surgical precision. The deliberate blurring comes later in the painting process. The effect is both academic and poetic—perfectionism pursued, achieved, then abandoned. I love it.
Before we leave her studio, we make preparations for the creation of a different kind of art. We print out the words for my tattoo in a font that I have chosen and Alison has approved.
On
our way to Venice, we stop at Urth Caffé on Main Street. Over lunch I
ask Alison about growing up in LA and becoming an artist. What she tells
me is a classic bohemian tale beautifully braided with history. Her
grandmother owned a five-story mansion in the Hollywood Hills that was
built at the turn of the century and was once surrounded by orange
groves. When Alison was a small child, her father went to live on a
commune, and she and her mother moved into the mansion with her
grandmother and three “brilliant scientist” uncles. Several years later,
when her father returned, they moved to Venice, where everyone grew
their own vegetables (among other things) and the children ran around
barefoot all the time. A child hippie, Alison was even practicing yoga
by age five (her father was legendary yogi Ganga White’s attorney). By
high school, however, Alison was living a more conventional life in
Pacific Palisades, earning straight As and scholarships. She went to
UCLA, but after a few months dropped out and moved to Hawaii. It was
there that Alison fell in love with a man who encouraged her to pursue
her calling as an artist. She returned to LA, began taking classes in
Brentwood and sold her first painting to Norton Simon’s grandson, who
hung it over his mantel between two Picassos.
I want to sit here all day, eating olives at Urth and listening to Alison’s stories, but we are on a mission, and it is time to move on. When we finally arrive at Ink Monkey, we find that Jeff—the tattoo artist I came to see—is occupied for another 30 minutes. I am ready to get in the chair, and just as a cliff diver might feel, when you are standing at the edge, you really need to jump. If you hang out too long, the jitters take hold. I am thrilled to learn Alison shares my fondness for tequila, and that’s how we end up at Hal’s.
Sitting at the bar, I start to reflect on where I was and how different LA was on this very day 17 years ago. Then, I was starting out, my future unknowable, my self unknown. The city was unfamiliar and unpredictable. Now in the wake of my divorce, I am starting out again in a way, my future still unknowable but my self known. The city is my home and strangely intimate. I envy Alison’s deep and romantic history here, then realize I now have my own as well.
When we return to Ink Monkey, Jeff is ready. He lays out three stenciled lines of text across the inside of my right forearm. I hold it up for Alison’s approval. She scrutinizes it with an artist’s eye and tells me one line is slightly askew. A smile spreads across my face. I turn to Jeff, tell him to leave it as it is and begin. Alison has inspired the artist in me who sees the beauty in embracing imperfection.
Read more at http://la-confidential-magazine.com/living/articles/a-drink-and-some-ink#0eZBPoZ0TqolfUdE.99
To mark the anniversary, earlier in the day I convince Alison to come with me to Ink Monkey Tattoo in Venice because she is a brilliant painter. But before I go under the buzzing needle, I visit her studio/home in Santa Monica Canyon to see her work for the first time. Her large canvases immediately draw me in. While the images are soft and unfocused—even impressionistic— there is an underlying sense of exactitude and realism. When Alison explains her technique to me, it makes perfect sense. She meticulously maps out and sketches an image, rendering it with surgical precision. The deliberate blurring comes later in the painting process. The effect is both academic and poetic—perfectionism pursued, achieved, then abandoned. I love it.
Before we leave her studio, we make preparations for the creation of a different kind of art. We print out the words for my tattoo in a font that I have chosen and Alison has approved.
On
our way to Venice, we stop at Urth Caffé on Main Street. Over lunch I
ask Alison about growing up in LA and becoming an artist. What she tells
me is a classic bohemian tale beautifully braided with history. Her
grandmother owned a five-story mansion in the Hollywood Hills that was
built at the turn of the century and was once surrounded by orange
groves. When Alison was a small child, her father went to live on a
commune, and she and her mother moved into the mansion with her
grandmother and three “brilliant scientist” uncles. Several years later,
when her father returned, they moved to Venice, where everyone grew
their own vegetables (among other things) and the children ran around
barefoot all the time. A child hippie, Alison was even practicing yoga
by age five (her father was legendary yogi Ganga White’s attorney). By
high school, however, Alison was living a more conventional life in
Pacific Palisades, earning straight As and scholarships. She went to
UCLA, but after a few months dropped out and moved to Hawaii. It was
there that Alison fell in love with a man who encouraged her to pursue
her calling as an artist. She returned to LA, began taking classes in
Brentwood and sold her first painting to Norton Simon’s grandson, who
hung it over his mantel between two Picassos.I want to sit here all day, eating olives at Urth and listening to Alison’s stories, but we are on a mission, and it is time to move on. When we finally arrive at Ink Monkey, we find that Jeff—the tattoo artist I came to see—is occupied for another 30 minutes. I am ready to get in the chair, and just as a cliff diver might feel, when you are standing at the edge, you really need to jump. If you hang out too long, the jitters take hold. I am thrilled to learn Alison shares my fondness for tequila, and that’s how we end up at Hal’s.
Sitting at the bar, I start to reflect on where I was and how different LA was on this very day 17 years ago. Then, I was starting out, my future unknowable, my self unknown. The city was unfamiliar and unpredictable. Now in the wake of my divorce, I am starting out again in a way, my future still unknowable but my self known. The city is my home and strangely intimate. I envy Alison’s deep and romantic history here, then realize I now have my own as well.
When we return to Ink Monkey, Jeff is ready. He lays out three stenciled lines of text across the inside of my right forearm. I hold it up for Alison’s approval. She scrutinizes it with an artist’s eye and tells me one line is slightly askew. A smile spreads across my face. I turn to Jeff, tell him to leave it as it is and begin. Alison has inspired the artist in me who sees the beauty in embracing imperfection.
Read more at http://la-confidential-magazine.com/living/articles/a-drink-and-some-ink#0eZBPoZ0TqolfUdE.99
Saturday, November 2, 2013
New York Times, The Insider, Alison Van Pelt
New York Times
The Insider | Alison Van Pelt
Van Pelt in front of one of her paintings at her studio. (Maggie Kayne)
The
Insider is a recurring profile of tastemakers in the fields of fashion,
design, food, travel and the arts. Here the Los Angeles-based painter
Alison Van Pelt shares a few of her style essentials. A new exhibition
of her latest body of work, “If I Were Ed Ruscha,” will show at the
Museum of Contemporary Art China
in Hong Kong in November. (The museum officially opens this fall.)
Name:
Alison Van Pelt
Age: Old enough to know better
Occupation: Artist (painter)
Home base: Santa Monica Canyon
Retail standby: Madison, Ron Herman, Fred Segal, Planet Blue
Music venue: The Green Door
Favorite concert: Jack Bambi
Music: Whatever my friend Maggie put on my iPod
Provisions: Farmer's market
For gifts: Hermès
Restaurant: Patrick’s Roadhouse and Axe for breakfast; Vito for the caesar salad; penne vodka at Laconda Portofino; truffle ravioli at Giorgio; jalapeño yellowtail at Nobu; sea bass at Chaya; truffle macaroni at the Beachcomber; coffee at Cafe Luxxe
Drink: Champagne or tequila
Party central: My bed
Momentary style obsessions: Jenni Kayne, Tom Binns, Lanvin
Reading material: “Loving Frank,” by Nancy Horan; ridiculous numbers of magazines; The New York Times
Art pick: Kaz Oshiro
Museums: Museum of Contemporary Art, Hong Kong
Movie: “Roman Holiday”
Vacation destination: My friend’s boat
Something you are looking forward to this summer: The beach with my dogs
Age: Old enough to know better
Occupation: Artist (painter)
Home base: Santa Monica Canyon
Retail standby: Madison, Ron Herman, Fred Segal, Planet Blue
Music venue: The Green Door
Favorite concert: Jack Bambi
Music: Whatever my friend Maggie put on my iPod
Provisions: Farmer's market
For gifts: Hermès
Restaurant: Patrick’s Roadhouse and Axe for breakfast; Vito for the caesar salad; penne vodka at Laconda Portofino; truffle ravioli at Giorgio; jalapeño yellowtail at Nobu; sea bass at Chaya; truffle macaroni at the Beachcomber; coffee at Cafe Luxxe
Drink: Champagne or tequila
Party central: My bed
Momentary style obsessions: Jenni Kayne, Tom Binns, Lanvin
Reading material: “Loving Frank,” by Nancy Horan; ridiculous numbers of magazines; The New York Times
Art pick: Kaz Oshiro
Museums: Museum of Contemporary Art, Hong Kong
Movie: “Roman Holiday”
Vacation destination: My friend’s boat
Something you are looking forward to this summer: The beach with my dogs
Alison’s Santa Monica Canyon Neighborhood
Here
are some of Van Pelt’s favorite haunts in L.A. that she visits
regularly. The map below is interactive; click on the blue markers to
learn more about Alison’s spots.
[googlemaps
http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&s=AARTsJpeeEElbFzt97MNAMjVutV4rxYwSg&msa=0&msid=103739794770934605257.000454fad2bf41b813ac0&ll=34.042419,-118.488922&spn=0.369828,0.549316&z=10&output=embed&w=400&h=325]
- Patrick’s Roadhouse — great fresh smoothies. And so close to home!
- Axe — Best (and biggest) pancakes. Everything’s organic.
- Vito — Old school! They make the caesar at the table. (amazing wine list.)
- The Beachcomber Cafe — Right there on the pier, The Tiki room is great.
- Nobu — Yum.
- Caffe Luxxe— addictive cappuccino
- Jenni Kayne (e-mail) — everything is gorgeous.
- The Green Door — Jason Scoppa does an awesome jazz night on Tuesdays.
- PC Greens — the juice bar!
- Ron Herman (Malibu) — They let my dogs run around the store.
Paintings from Alison Van Pelt’s “If I Were Ed Ruscha” exhibition.
Friday, November 1, 2013
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