Bodhi Wind

I remember trepidation the moment I first touched a brush to a wall with the intent to paint something other than just a single color. It's thrilling too because I think it's a primal urge, a relic behavior, like cave painting. After you start painting imagery on walls you notice that sort of thing more. Actually I have a vivid memory of noticing an instance of murals years before I became a muralist. It was in the movie: 3 Women. Tellingly the director, Robert Altman, said of his work as a film maker, "I look at it like a painting". His movie is absolutely fascinating, conceived in a dream and dream-like itself.







Janice Rule plays the dark and mysterious painter and but it was Bodhi Wind behind the scenes who conceived and painted the murals for the sets. The imagery is fantastical and ultimately symbolic of the dynamics in the narrative and subtext. There are creatures which I interpret as not so much male and female but apsects of our personalities: Jungian, Freudian, or what have you. It's been tucked in the back of my mind ever since. I mean I've not only been haunted by the film, the characters, and the paintings, but also the idea of wanting to paint a pool.




In the movie there are actually a number of instances of Bodhi Wind's paintings including the opening and closing credits. There are two pools, one is derelict and empty, the other filled with water. Both ideas have an appeal as a blank canvas. An unfilled one might be a skateboard park. That could be fun and add an extra vertiginous thrill for the skateboarders. I'm not sure what I'd paint but there is a sort of figure that appears now and then in my work that is reminiscent of the 3 Women paintings. It's slinky and scaly and has strange ways.

Less is Bore.

One of the most pronounced characteristics of postwar Modernism was its apathetic approach to interiors. ...unthinkable to earlier architects such as Frank Lloyd Wright and Charles Rennie Mackintosh who believed that the design of the building, inside and out, is an indivisible unity.



So writes Martin Filler in his 1984 HG piece on Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown. It's a revelatory article on Venturi and Brown, for me anyway. I knew of Venturi from the iconic house he did for his mother but beyond that little. At the time of the article Post Modernism in architecture was exploding and Venturi was getting a lot of attention for what he'd been saying for years. At the same time the whole decorative painting field was exploding as well. At least I was getting a lot of attention. If only I had clients as smart as Venturi and Brown who brilliantly layered seemingly disparate elements into a messy vitality!





Even if I didn't have clients like the Venturis I did have some fantastic opportunities to paint on architecture. It began with a job working at the Fox Theater (restoration) in Atlanta, an Egyptian-Moorish theater palace. Directly after that I moved across the street to The Ponce , a 1913 Edwardian building that was restored after decades of abuse and neglect. Decorative painting was integral to those environments as it should be to interiors in my opinion. Whether you live in a cave or a modernist apartment there's a mural for you. The separate profession of interior designer grew out of the fabric industry so most interior designers are overly obsessed with fabrics I think.




Around 1983 I began working with a couple who were building a house in Atlanta inspired by providential French designs. They called me when their house was hardly even a scribble on a napkin. Not a moment too soon really. They understood the importance my work as a decorative painter would be. I worked with them for more than a year going from room to room in their house. The children's play room on the second floor had a tray ceiling for which I designed a Viollet-le-Duc inspired motif.





I was into Goth a little ahead of the curve. My Atlanta clients' place wasn't Gothic but Eugene Viollet-le-Duc is a central figure in Gothic Revival and he was my springboard. He and I share a birthday too for whatever it's worth. My last residence in Atlanta was just down the street from an architectural salvage place. Once I discovered it I went slightly nuts. There were so many pieces within my budget. A number of the pieces I bought were from a Gothic Revival church. Eventually all those antiques moved with me to San Francisco where I created an environment for them.



Since I didn't want to leave my work behind in my rental flat I painted on burlap and muslin. The textured fabric was more like a tapestry anyway which was the effect I was after. My apartment was my testing ground for so much painting. My place was published in a local design magazine just months after I moved in and several times over the years after that. I kept adding to or changing things so there was always another story to tell. And so it goes. On to the next blog post.

Learning From Las Vegas

Actually, I don't know that I've learned anything from Las Vegas. I've only been as close as changing planes in the airport and I haven't even read the venerated manifesto by Robert Venturi, Denise Scott Brown, and Steven Izenour. Now we have Learning From Las Vegas, 2.0 so I really need to catch up. I am going to revisited the Venturi's in a future post and recently I did received my first commissions to create some paintings for Las Vegas so that's how I'm justifying the title of this entry. The paintings below are not for Vegas but they were my first commission for a hotel so I decided to include them here.




When I was in art school I often did whatever I could to avoid making anything that resembled a traditional sort of painting. That was somewhat common for the time as the art world was just shaking off the minimalism / conceptualism stronghold. Neoexpresionism was just emerging. Anyway with school behind me I almost immediately made my living as a paintbrush for hire making paintings which would have been inconceivable to me as a student. The deal was getting paid for it and the goal was to make it fun and interesting for me.



The architect, Stanford Hughes , was finishing up one of his last projects for Skidmore, Owings & Merrill which was the restoration of The Palace Hotel in San Francisco. He asked me to come up with an idea for paintings for Maxfield's restaurant. Maxfield's adjoins The Pied Piper Bar where there's a Maxfield Parrish mural. The rarefied atmosphere of the hotel suggested something historic and traditional to me and there was no directive to relate to the Parrish mural so I came up with the idea of 17th c Dutch still lifes. Exact copies seemed a little cloying so I cropped and enlarge details from a tasty selection from four different old masters. It was me challenging myself to paint detailed subject matter in oils and I had fun with it for the most part.





Las Vegas is suppose to be fun for the most part and escapist. Part of the escape is by virtue of historical and iconic sampling in the hotels' architecture and interior design and I added to it. I got two Vegas commissions back to back. One commission called for 10 separated panels and three distinct skill sets. There was a pair of gold leafed panels that I art directed and subcontracted out because I don't trust myself with that much 18k gold leaf. I had to paint six 10 foot panels each with three classical Roman figures. The panels were awkward to handle because of their sizes relative to my studio space. The third piece, a pair of paintings meant to resemble Italian Renaissance tapestries, made my knuckles bleed. How fun is that?



The one commission that consisted of three separate projects is in an apartment that rents for $300,000./night. Can you imagine? It's part of the Octavius Villas complex at Caesars Palace designed by Wilson and Associates . If you stay there you're suppose to imagine you're a Roman emperor, or perhaps William Randolph Hearst, Sean Combs? It's not my crowd for sure.




The gold leaf panels are nice but not terribly interesting so I'm not including pictures of them. I'm glad to have made the acquaintance of a good gilder should the need arise in the future. I have worked on top of silver leaf and there is something wonderful about those metallic surfaces. The next time I work on a leafed surface I want to use radical imagery, expressionistic, insouciant. Who's going to pay for that? I'm not sure, perhaps me.

So I did the historicist's works for Las Vegas and another commission for a large abstract canvas. That piece is installed at the Madarin Oriental in CityCenter . My last post was about Hong Kong and work I did there. Hong Kong is adjacent Macau which is essentially Vegas for China. There's the through line. The funny thing is that my painting for the Mandarin Las Vegas like my painting for the Chinese client in Hong Kong is not in anyway related to The East. Or maybe it is. It's definitely related to Santiago, Chile and I'll explain later.

Peak Experience

Over the years I worked on a great variety of decorative painting projects and art commissions for architects, interior designers, art consultants, and private individuals. Fortunately I've come up with a contract and method that's simple and adaptable to every sort of circumstance and project. Occasionally I'm put to the test by someone who seems to want to make things more complicated which was the case (initially) with my Hong Kong project.






All of the design consideration were between me, Pamela Babey , and other designers at BAMO but my contract was actually with a division of BSC in Hong Kong. After our slightly drawn out negotiations during which I somewhat anxiously stuck to my terms that they eventually agreed to I was a little shocked to find the BSC job site was composed of what looked like a rag tag group assembled from a Home Depot parking lot. Where was that fearsome multinational corporate mandarin I had met through faxes and emails?




In fact from the moment I touched down at Hong Kong International the BSC people could hardly have been nicer or more accommodating. They arranged my stay at the Park Lane , a room with a rather spectacular view, and throughout my visit only asked what else they could do for me. The ragtag group of workers at the job site turned out to be friendly, hardworking, and helpful as well.




The owner of the home was a mystery to me. I hadn't heard much about him. I think I met him on my first day at the his house on The Peak . I had the chance to see him interact a bit with someone on site before he made his way over the introduce himself to me. I immediately sensed a Napoleon complex owning to his stature, strut, and authoritative voice. A couple of days later when he could see the room coming together in a very pleasing way he inviting me to join his family for a day of yachting. I was given my own cabin with en-suite bath, a drawer full of clothing including bathing suits for my use, a plush double bed, flat screen TV, and am I forgetting anything? I hardly spent much time in my cabin. There was sight seeing, wake boarding, island hopping, dining, and movie watching until late that night.

I also managed to wandered around Hong Kong by myself unfettered and alive. I was perfectly happy to get lost. It felt simultaneously safe and exciting. The Blade Runner visual cacophony felt comforting to me. My own personal work, my paintings, have that kind vibrancy so perhaps this is why I felt at home. Not to mention the fact I spent some time growing up in Florida: a good preparation for the heat and humidity in Hong Kong.








It's easy to understand why the owner would choose the side of Victoria Peak opposite the city to build his home since it is the quiet respite from frenetic city life. I didn't see it complete but the designers seemed to understand this need for a cool calm environment for it's reflected in their work. The selection of materials and fittings was rich yet understated. I could see this even in the raw state. The process of putting it all together fascinated me as well. The construction of the bamboo scaffolding was marvelous.

In selecting pictures for this post I couldn't bring myself to include any of the house's exterior. It's so mundane. BAMO had nothing to do with that. Too bad. I was taken with the neighbor's house, however, and shot it with my long lens. What colonial family dynasty lives there? I don't suppose I'll ever know.

Next post: Vegas, baby, Vegas.

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Dining in Hong Kong

I had a wonderful time in Hong Kong: great food, friendly natives, exotic sights, and a little shopping. My working vacation was the culmination of a commission project for BAMO begun in 2001. Through the design process and various scheduling and logistical issues I didn't actually go for the installation until 2003. The last delay I had to contend with was the SARS threat . In fact I had my ticket and travel plans arranged while the news from Hong Kong about a mysterious illness grew increasingly alarming. I had to cancel just days before my flight but ended up going a few months later.





Having lived in San Francisco for many years Hong Kong wasn't a cultural shock and although my installers and I had a language barrier things went quite smoothly. There was a bit of trouble getting the large octagonal panel up even with all the hands available so I suggested the "T" shaped device which the carpenters quickly constructed. (see the smiling face above.)





I was able to see the dining room largely complete by the time I left. There's a table that seats 100 people I think and an enormous chandelier made in France by Claire Cormier Fauvel that in decorator speak is "to die for". The mirrored lazy susan holds enough dim sum for the immediate family and one or two guests. I didn't eat there but the clients very kindly took me out for a day trip in their 125' yacht. We stopped at some little fishing village for take out which was quite tasty. I'll post a pic of the yacht and a few more of Hong Kong in my next post.

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Paper Plastico

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Today I often skip the watercolor sketch and do the preliminary design in Photoshop. It's faster and more flexible. Still, I love to work with good quality heavy weight watercolor paper and will even use it to create a maquette. This is especially helpful if the architecture is a bit complicated which was certainly the case with my painted room in Hong Kong. It really helps the client get an idea of how the completed room will look.

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Actually, I did begin the project with a nice watercolor, rather tight and in scale. Wisely the client rejected this first idea and it was my own fault for not doing some quick messy sketches just to get some basic concepts down. The room, a dining room in the client's home on Victoria Peak is eight sided. The number eight in Chinese is similar in sound to the word for prosper or wealth so the Chinese like that number but the client didn't necessarily want a design that was especially Chinese.

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I worked with the designers at BAMO to come up with something but they had their hands full with so many other other aspects of the project. In a way I wanted the challenge of trying to design in what to me was a foreign culture and for it to look authentic. What I came up with is a western traditional motif that is skewed in an Eastern fashion. I knew the key to the design issue was to start with the hexagonal panel in the middle of the ceiling. Eventually I realized this shaped replicated the bagwa which often has a yin yan symbol in its center. Instead of a yin yan symbol I gently distorted a tradition palmette design found on ancient Greek pottery. After completing the design of the center ceiling panel the rest of the room sort of fell into place.

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I painted the whole project in my studio in California. I typically use heavy weight muslin for this type of work. It's lighter than canvas but strong enough to hold up to the kind of abuse that seems necessary for applying it to wall surfaces. I went to Hong Kong to supervise the installation despite the fact that that hanging wall paper (or fabric) is not my area of expertise nor do I speak Cantonese. I actually was able to help since I knew readily which pieces went where and I came up with a simple technical suggestion that made it possible to get the central ceiling panel up. I'll post pictures from Hong Kong in my next post.

please click on pic for a larger view

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Into the Woods

Looking down from any high rise structure in Atlanta clearly shows a city built in a forest. Atlanta loves its trees and gardens. It definitely took edge off city living and attracted me as a student in the late 70s. I later found out Frederick Law Olmsted of Central Park fame had big influence on the city's tree culture (starting in 1890). In fact his namesake landscape architectural design firm lasted for nearly 100 years in Atlanta.



In the early 70s I remember obsessing over the super graphics (painted walls and furniture) and giant photo murals I saw in shelter magazines. By 1976 I was in London and I had the chance to see two of my obsessions together in one place: Nicolas Roeg's The Man Who Fell To Earth. It's amazing to see such contrasts together in one place: a forest in a room with an extraterrestrial (David Bowie).



By the early 80s I had finished art school in Atlanta and was starting a career there as a decorative painter. An early assignment was to propose a mural for a new restaurant. Actually it was the newest restaurant for the local (highly successful) Pleasant Peasant chain. They had acquired a beautiful beaux arts building which I realized would make a great frame for whatever I could come up with. I designed two landscape inspired works: one representational, the other abstract. One is based on a 19th c British watercolor and the other a painting by Arthur Dove.



I was new at the game and let the designer John Oetgen present my work to the client. It may not have made much difference had I presented it myself but it left me feeling that much more bereft when I learned I didn't get the job. John assured me they liked the work -the abstract one even better. Steve Nygren, the owner, was undoubtedly very thrifty and as is often the case money was an issue. Still, Steve did drive the fanciest Mercedes and he may have even at that time been saving up to buy his own town (Serenbe) which he subsequently did. And John Oetgen might have liked to design and paint the work himself which he has subsequently done for more that one of his interior design clients.

In the end I'm left with my sketches which I still like quite a lot. I'd totally forgotten about them and the whole incident until recently sorting through my flat files. I think I'd propose the very same thing to day and feel either one would make a very handsome mural.