An Artist's Daring Dream House

The David Ireland article in HG magazine (1985?).

More of David Ireland's home in San Francisco.

Crash, collapse, derelict, disaster area,  in a word a wreck. That's just what I found when I ventured back to the bungalow rental home, the last place I lived in Atlanta's charming Lake Claire neighborhood. Let's be clear, when I moved in the house had not been lived in for years and had the predictable deferred maintenance but I went with that and made decadence my esthetic. In fact I had help.

An old church niche and decorative frieze inspired by it. I made the paper star on top, some  stark white and strict geometry for contrast.

A lot of decorative painting used to detract from an ugly space heater. The candelabras are fashioned out of  twigs painted white and that's a real stem of ivy on top of the mirror.

My Atlanta kitchen with pentimento walls inspired by David Ireland.

A detail of the "space heater decoration", a simple trompe l'oeil technique.

The walls are varnished "as is" and I painted the door to (sort of ) match. You can see a bit more of the mantle  painting and the frieze all based on the Victorian Gothic niches.

David Ireland pointed the way for me with his San Francisco Victorian which I saw published in HG magazine. A brilliant conceptual artist, David realized while rehabilitating his home that he needn't return the place to it original condition or conform to any conventions for that matter. He soon realized the significance of the unfinished, of pentimento, and of the mystery of the ordinary.

This was the bedroom/sitting room of my place. Notice the carved wooden curtains. There are more wooden carved pieces on the mantle and the library is actually created out of a hallway.

Another shot of the bedroom/sitting room. The birds and rings motif is based  on Etruscan mural depicting the afterlife.

Soon after I moved into my bungalow I discovered an architectural salvage warehouse just down the road from me which instigated my collection of church artifacts and assorted carved wooden forms. Also, at this time in the world of decorative architectural painting Pompeii was once again being mined for it's stunningly creative murals, wall glazes, and schemes so that was another influence on me.

This is my Atlanta bungalow. I added the yellow stripes to the  awning.

Then/Now. I painted the front door Frida Kahlo blue but currently (as seen on the right) you'll note there's no door to be found!

This Wally Aero Eagle from the 50s was parked across the street from my old house. If only my old house looked this good. It's a shame because the Lake Claire neighborhood is otherwise in great shape.

This was in the window of the Wally. 

It's a little ironic that when I left Atlanta and moved to San Francisco I couldn't wait to paint all the walls stark white. I'm still pretty much that way. I like a neutral background. That's my dream house. Actually for the past several years I've been into traditional Japanese architecture, dark stained wood against white. What do you like?

The 22 Magazine

Now serving tasty hors d'oeuvres. 

From Brooklyn? Yes, yes, yes.

All Over The Map

LGT corporate cities rendered in Mercator typeface

Lightening followed immediately by thunder, I mean it was that close (!), and torrential rain causing instant flooding. That's where I was mere days ago: Atlanta. It was pretty thrilling, actually, the same way a little seismic action electrifies those people visiting from outside of California. But I am back in L.A. now, though, I was downstairs in Antarctica a little earlier today. I'll explain. It's all part of my restoration process, trying to resurrect past projects from my haphazard, on the fly photography. I re-shot some of my work while I was in Atlanta. More about that later. Today I'm all over the map, my world map mural. Go back to an earlier entry for some history but here I'm posting more in a series of rectified images for my new site.

Assorted compass roses

Installation view of my map mural

See, I told you Antarctica was downstairs.

Make it work. I know someone lays claim that phrase but really, it so describes what I do from the beginning to the end of my painting projects and beyond. Right now I'm in the beyond stage which is where I make selections from terrible photographs of my work and make them work with a little help from Photoshop, a lot actually. Then I cut and paste together a collage of impressions to give some sense of what it's all about. My Liechtenstein Global Trust World Map Mural was never lit properly, well maybe, but when I was there to shoot it wasn't so that's a challenge.

Coat of Arms and Crest for the Liechtensteins

Top center of my map mural.

Assorted map icons.

So it is my hope that with a little detail here, a scribbly sketch there, some paint dabs on a card, and various camera angles you'll put it all together in your head and will be transported to the best vantage point to view my work. Is it working? If not or if it is I suggest you acquire my work for yourself. That's the best solution yet. 

Another installed view and sketches.

Palette, details, and Antarctica at the bottom of the stairs.

The Check is in the Mail

And other clichés such as "New Website Coming Soon".

Acrylic and mica powders on canvas, Scott Waterman, Hong Kong, 2001

Have you heard that one? I'll tell you my bête noire, probably my number one bête noire in the blogsphere is: "I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've posted!" I'll never write that. It's so useless and so effete I can't stand it. Please don't do that! Thank you. But I have to tell you something that I know you don't know and that is that this blog has essentially been a stand in for: New Website:Coming Soon! for all of it's existence. It's partly due to me not being sure what I wanted for a new website and partly due to Blogger giving me the ability play around with words and pictures quite easily without the aid of web development skills. So I've been going back to old projects and talking about new projects, even foretelling some projects to come on Corbu's Cave.

Acrylic and mica powders on canvas, Scott Waterman, Hong Kong, 2001 

Acrylic and mica powders on canvas, Scott Waterman, Hong Kong, 2001 

Acrylic and mica powders on canvas, Scott Waterman, Hong Kong, 2001

Cha cha changes are in the works. A new website is coming and I'm giving you a little taste of it here. I've gone back to Hong Kong (yet again, 1, 2, 3) and you, dear reader are getting the chance to see some never before seen shots of my octagon dining room project. These composite images will be used in a slide show and give the world yet another chance to say: yes, YES, we want you. We want that, something like that. Do it for us!

Hello, is anybody out there?

265

265.H, a photo by scott_waterman on Flickr.

I painting I did in 2008 at the framer and ready to be sent to the client.

Ink, watercolor and gouache on paper

Cave of the Unknown

Grotesque panel design (18th c. silver?)

Studio view.

I carry two definitions in my head for grotesque, what I know most people think and what I think to be the real definition. Both are right and both are incomplete but basically mine's better. 

Voila! A sort of cave of the unknown.

Gross! Is that what you think? The amalgam of plant, animal, and artificial in a sinuous decorative form, that's what I think. But I just looked it up in my Dictionary of Ornament, (Lewis & Darley, © 1986, Cameron Books), and it doesn't exactly say that or even what I thought it would. 

Take an object.

I thought it all started with the excavations of Pompeii and Herculaneum but it actually dates from the discovery of buried ruins of Nero's Domus Aurea in 1488 and Pompeii wasn't unearthed until the late 18th century. Anyway, in both cases the discovery revealed essentially the same thing (see mine definition). As a working definition mine is good and succinct but the mystery remains: where and how did this idea really start?

Do something to it.

Do something else to it.

Take an object. Do something to it. Do something else to it. Do something else to it. (Jasper Johns) That's kind of what I've done with one particular grotesque panel design. I can't reveal it's original because I don't know it.

Toy Robot, NYC circa 1980 

I think it may have been a design etched in a piece of 18th c. silver. I'm pretty sure the image came from the Magazine Antiques. So what I've done with the motif is to tear it apart and paint the parts on top of collaged panels. The reason I bring this up now is because many of my collages works which were begun 10 or more years ago are currently on view in two venues.  Linda Chase's shop, New Vignette has a couple of ovals and Katrien van der Schueren, aka Madame Voila! has a number of my works hanging in her gallery, Voila!

collage "J"

collage "A"

Now, it's up to you to explore the cave of the unknown. Go.

Cut it Out!

Cut it out!

My San Francisco flat, 20th century.

My Los Angeles studio, 21st century.

It has come to my attention that I like cut-outs; a fact so obvious I was sure I'd already created a blogpost on this subject. The joke is totally on me because in the past I have tried to locate my post on cut-outs to show someone or another and have been so frustrated in not being able to find it. So here we go. I'm posting about cut-outs now!

My Oakland studio, 2001: a space odyssey.

For me the act of creating a cut-out is born of two things, collages and stencils. I've been making collages longer than I can remember and I really got into stencils when I worked on the restoration of The Ponce. My "chests" post dealt with stencils on another scale. Now, in this paragraph I've referenced three different blog posts that touch on the subject. But let's move on to new business shall we?

A little Japanese cut-out and my big cut-out behind it.

While researching this subject, delving into my picture files, I came across a painting I did in 2001 that represents a curious intersection of collage, cut-out, and trompe l'oeil. A cut-out is my model for the painting and what it showed was the negative space left over from a tiny figure used in a collage.I took this little cut-out  and inflated its importance by enlarging to life size for the painting. I found a photograph of the painting taken in my wonderful Oakland studio. Another shot I came across taken in Oakland shows a marvelous Japanese cut-out against one of my own. Both of those cut-outs became paintings as well.

Big cut-outs.

Another big cut-out

Medium size cut-out.

Small cut-outs.

Back in my little San Francisco flat in the early 90s I filled my floor to ceiling windows with cut-outs. It was quick, easy, and a cheap way to postpone shelling out for curtains. And this presents a third manifestation of the cut-out after collages and stencils. This is folded paper cut-out as one would do in kindergarten to make a snowflake.  Remarkably I still have all those cutouts made in San Francisco. Around that same time I made what is, I suppose, my most important cut-out. It too became a painting. Actually I can remember specifically creating that particular painting. My flat was going to be photographed for some shelter magazine or perhaps a book and I thought I should have something on my wall that would read well on the printed page. Turns out it did help make a good photograph.

Big painting made from a small cut-out.

Triptych version.

My Triptych at the Four Season Resort.

My work adapted as a logo.

Years later two different designers, Orlando Diaz Azcuy and Pamela Babey, came calling wanting that painting. The first designer bought the painting and another one, very similar. The second designer called too late. So I recreated it. Actually it worked out for the best because I recreated it as a triptych. It was made for a resort near Buenos Aires. The resort was built by a private developer who was so enamored of the piece he wanted it to play a big part in his project. And so my image was adapted as a graphic design appearing on stationery, chef's hats, guest slippers, and more. The resort, Madison, soon after its completion became part of the Four Seasons chain so their logo took over.

What follows are some establishing shots of the Four Season Resort at Carmelo. I'm establishing that my work is there, it's a beautiful place, and wouldn't we all like to stay there?  Be seeing you!

Four Seasons Resort Carmelo. Can you spot my work?

Four Seasons Resort Carmelo

Four Seasons Resort Carmelo

Four Seasons Resort Carmelo

Four Seasons Resort Carmelo