Seeing the Light

Venice Beach Laundry © Taylor Barnes 2014

"Seeing the Light" may refer to the many levels that "light" is experienced when creating a piece of art. This recent painting posed the challenge of rendering a dramatically lit nighttime scene (alá Edward Hopper). In some ways, dramatic lighting is a cheap trick because if you do it at all well the result is a magical and dramatic work. Lighting used to portray a story within a story is something photographers and filmmakers understand only too well. A scene filled with dramatic lights and darks just screams to be interesting. Think, film noir.

I have passed this laundry for years and watched life play out in front of these well-lit windows. Some nights there is a line around the corner for the homeless to do free laundry, compliments of the management. Every night there is a congregation of homeless hanging on the steps trading information and hitting up the well-healed patrons of the Whole Foods Market next door. This laundry represents a true class intersection that is practically symptomatic of the entire economic displacement of people happening in Venice Beach. 

Through these windows, the light reveals a whole society of people normally hidden from view. "Seeing the Light" refers to the technical aspects of how this work is painted as well as the story it reveals. The emptiness is probably the future of this place. As wealthier families move into the area, they won't need a laundry. In the past, this was where neighbors gathered to meet neighbors, exchange information, or find a helping hand. Local artists painted the walls and there was a sense of an extension of home. The landscape is changing and some of the soul of Venice is leaching away with that change.

Of course, it is only a laundry mat but it is also a symbol - if we look, we can see the light.  The final part of the journey of this painting revolves around communication. In my effort to communicate clearly what I was seeing I rendered the white letters of "Venice Beach Laundry" with the precision of a sign painter. I failed to see the painting that was the engine to the image – until I showed it to both my mother and my daughter. Each, independently of the other, said the letters were too dominant and should be pushed back. Their critique helped me to "see the light." I realized that the danger of leaving the painting and the world it creates in favor or the literal world is to loose track of the dynamic of painting. By being too literal, I was loosing the spontaneity of the brush and what set my work aside from a photograph. Texture, depth of color and – lighting – were my tools. I pushed the letters back to a rougher form and the work was complete. 

In the end, I find each painting is a psychological journey into some aspect of my thinking that has yet to be revealed to me. This painting was about seeing the light, literally and spiritually. It is a little like playing God in your own personal universe, “… on the seventh day God said, 'let there be light' and there was light."

Painting to Remember...

Ara Bevacqua © Taylor Barnes 2014

This is one of my recent works on a series about the people and places that are disappearing from Venice Beach. It is easy to try and create a more layered and symbolic back story for a series of paintings but the truth is this was born out of a very simple observation.

One afternoon I was in the French Impressionist rooms of the Los Angeles County Art Museum and decided to sit and sketch a Pierre Bonnard painting of rural life in France. I sat there looking closely at these works and realized these painters were simply painting the life around them but the pieces had become invaluable because of their historical context. They chronicled a life that had disappeared. Upon reflection, I saw the same thing currently happening in my city of Venice Beach. The subjects of my paintings may be simplistic to the current observer but I hope that someday they will stand as a historic record of a life that disappeared here as well. I can never totally escape my journalistic tendencies.

Painting has a unique way of capturing the artist and the emotion of the subject. The evidence of the artist's hand in the work lends another level of emotional interpretation. As I work my way through this series I hope that each piece, when finally shown collectively, will offer a summary of palpable emotion for the loss of a way of life. Venice lives in a tenuous state of gentrification which is wiping out a once seemingly indomitable creative spirit.

In the tradition of the Impressionist painters, who ventured out into a Paris of another era, they painted their city because they loved what they saw - I am doing the same with my Abbot Kinney Blvd., the Ocean Front Boardwalk, and the rapidly disappearing Rose Ave. I can't seem to shoot my reference photos fast enough. But these paintings will be the record of my emotional connection to Venice. And then it will be time to move on because the Venice I know and love will be gone - except for within my paintings.

Breaking the r / U / LE / s

 Raygun Magazine designed by David Carson

I have been thinking quite a bit about the "rules" of design and when I choose to break them. The "rules" make sense to me – following the grid – paying attention to balance with regard to scale and space. But when do I get to B-R-E-A-K the rules?

Knowing when to break the rules in design is as important as knowing the rules. One of my favorite designers is David Carson. I have reflected on the pure genius of his punk/grunge, groundbreaking design of Raygun magazine. Carson broke all the rules. 

If you have ever seen his TED talk he makes fun of the fact that his copy is often illegible and he happily claims to have a degree in sociology rather than design. He sees the world around him and interprets is differently from the rest of us and it all works. It works, because it defies your expectations. It works, because it makes your brain decipher the visual code. It works, because you remember it. It ALL works.

Carson didn't break the design rules because he was being rebellious, although there was a little of that I'm sure. He broke the rules because his design sense was telling him to. He was designing in the surf/sport industry and his audience had short attention spans and a lot of physical energy. If you think about his work it often has the sense of catching something as you pass by in a speeding car. The words would fly off the page, unfinished or difficult to read. There was a new energy to the work.

David Carson has been widely emulated by other designers, with distressed design and broken typography but when Carson did it his "rule breaking" design came from an internal place. He was having fun and using "whatever he had around the house." His xerox machine, photos from surfing trips or roadside advertising, emulating the dilapidated textures of the strange little surf towns he had visited. It was all present in his typography and photo manipulation. His design came from a personal place – that's how he knew when to break the rules, he had seen it done in real life and found the beauty in it.

I think about this and realize that if I follow the rules to a "T", I am doing what feels right for my subject and my audience. Of course my ego wants to create bone-ratteling, jaw-dropping, ground-breaking new work but if I were to pursue that as a goal I would fail miserably. So I listen to the little voice in my head and I play.

The first two issues of 3.1 Venice magazine have surprised me with regard to the final design. I thought that given my head I would, like a wild horse, run through the field, jump the fence, and stray wayyyyy out into the world of design. But I did not. Instead I went back to basics and applied restraint and discipline to my work. Balance became incredibly important. Flow. Keeping the reader engaged without tricks. My subject was the beach community of Venice, California and we are known for having one of the widest expanses of beach in Los Angeles.

Venice is a balance of congestion that ends on the edge of Pacific Ocean with expanses of blue sky, blue water, and beige sand. The magazine design reflected my internal feeling about the city. The expectation would have been to create a jumbled, crazy quilt design of graffiti art, wild color, and density but for me that is a design element, not the infrastructure of what Venice feels like. If you don't believe me just look at the large numbers of minimalist painters and architects that live here – obviously we are all picking up the same vibe.

Back to the rules – as designers we have favorite, "go-to" fonts, colors, layouts, and tricks. But what about that one new thing you have always wanted to try? When do you try it? I have one firm rule about breaking rules, if you are consciously deciding to do a design a certain way BECAUSE it breaks the rules... you have failed. If you are playing and experimenting and a happy "design accident" happens, be strong and roll with it. You just broke the rules and it didn't hurt a bit.

The Collective Consciousness of "I"

 

3.1 Venice magazine – cover art  ©  Taylor Barnes 2013

I had a dream. I actually had an epiphany. I had a moment. Maybe a moment of insanity! But I did it. I started a magazine.  3.1 Venice was born May 30th, 2013 – weighing in at 60 pages and measuring 8.5" x 10.5".

I can use "I" with a sense of humility because I was the instrument for the idea. Much like giving birth to my daughter - I have a sense of bringing her into the world and having guardianship over her but what happened after that was her destiny, not mine.  

I just happened to have the skill set the universe required and it used me to get the word out. But the idea came through me like a Japanese bullet train. Four weeks ago it was a conversation at the local coffee shop, a statement of conviction, "I am starting a magazine." Four weeks ago, it was an impulsively bought domain name, 3point1-venice.com and a temporary web site proclaiming an arbitrary release date of May 25th. There was no particular reason for that date (and I missed it by five days) except to proclaim to the world that "I" was starting a magazine.

But the power of conviction is what convinced me that my little village of Venice Beach, California, was interesting enough to warrant a magazine – after all, there had been two before me. The publication and the website came fully realized and in four short weeks the universe ushered to my door everyone and everthing I would need to make this a reality. 

The theme of the first issue revealed itself very quickly and it certainly was not what I would have thought if you asked me at the beginning of this journey. The very first interview, with a wonderful urban farmer, Matt Van Diepen, led to an entire issue built around the farm-to-table movement here in Venice. Each story lead to another and the discovery of the people who make our community unique. We have musician Finian Makepeace talking about Mycorrihzal Fungi and his dreams for a community garden, a profile on the modern ukulele band The Ooks of Hazzard, and a piece about Chance Foreman's film, One Day in Venice. There are other stories – The Learning Garden and the Seed Library, and interviews, art, video, photography. Everybody had something to say! All of these stories emanated from the 3.1 square miles we call Venice.

But it's the design process that was affirmed and revealed during the creation of this publication. The idea that I could be so deeply involved with the subject matter, that I could have a vision and be the guardian of it was a renewed experience. I have been here before but it has been awhile and I'd forgotten how intoxicating it can be. This project was a joyful coming together of all my skills in one place. Today, three days post launch, I am exhausted from all the joy.

I found myself in the middle of a process of collaboration, discovery, invention and communication that was energizing and inspiring and I am reminded why I love publication design so much. There is a bit of withdrawl now because it is a heady experience to bring something to fruition that was just a dream four weeks ago. But every time I look at the sixty pages of original content and the list of talented contributors, I am in awe of how creative humans can come together to build something more powerful than the singularity of it's parts.

Even though I started this post with references to "I", "I", "I" – I am ending this post as the collective "I." Think of the Borg of the Star Trek series. They were individuals all tuned into one mind – this is the "I" I am referring to. Collective Consciousness driving many people towards one binding mission. In this instance it was to create, even for a moment, a sense of community and awareness that you are not alone in the world. "I" is also "eye" when spoken, so the use of "I" with reference to a magazine could be interpreted as "I see."

View the first issue of 3.1 Venice at issuu.com

Venice is Becoming Beige

BEFORE AND AFTER

The Laughing Buddha is gone.

The loss of this mural is emblematic of a greater wrong being done to the community of Venice. 

People move here because we have a rich street culture, infused with creativity and bubbling with anarchistic energy. Venice was once home to a cultural revolution, dog town, street performers and famous the world over for it's unique artistic inspiration. We had live jazz, amazing chalk art on Abbot Kinney, nude poetry readings at a local coffee shop, bikers and surfers side by side... and artists. 

The artists made this community – they defined it with their murals, their clothes, their music. People were attracted to their world and wanted to feel a part of the rare, incandescent creative climate – they moved here in droves hoping it would rub off on them. 

Many of the newly transplanted "investors" were not comfortable living with the slightly unpolished and unpredictable nature of Venice and decided to change it into something more palatable and less discomforting. In the process, they impacted the visual culture of the city. Similar to when an animal goes extinct in an environment and that ecosystem is changed forever - changing the landscape and not encouraging our urban artists is forever changing our "artistic ecosystem."

We are becoming beige - witnessed by the "after" photo above. Venice has never been beige!

Other cities hold their street art in high esteem – London, Paris, Buenos Aires, San Paolo to name a few. The art can exist side by side with great buildings of other eras. The streets are a fertile ground to grow the next generation of artists and history has shown that many make the jump from street to museum – Toulouse Lautrec or Banksy, just two examples.

Artists are the "cultural caribou" of the world – wandering from site to site – creating a community were there was none – and moving on when the environment no longer feeds their needs. Venice was that place but judging by how easily the Buddha was wiped from the world, with the stroke of a beige paintbrush, artists can easily be disrespected and forgotten. Venice is a fragile artistic ecosystem.

I wonder what the world would be like, if someone thought the Sistine Chapel would be cleaner and more modern with a coat of beige paint and they got rid of that busy and outdated ceiling mural? 

Context, context, context

This picture probably doesn't create much of a reaction in the viewer as it is. It is almost boring with how commonplace it looks. A stark, leafless tree in front of a house on a bright sunny day.

As a designer we are always asked to take the boring details of life and arrange them in a manner to give them new meaning, or a deeper meaning. We are asked to put things 'in context.'

Back to the tree... to add context to the tree I can tell you that it was brought to Venice Beach by the grandfather of a long-time resident of this neighborhood. His grandfather moved here from Louisiana and wanted a little reminder of his roots. So he brought a sapling pecan tree to California and planted it on this corner where it still stands 50 years later. The tree is a testament to the man now long gone.

That story has put the tree in context. The picture comes alive. It could be so much more now. If we added type to the picture we might think about fonts and colors that evoke the feel of the bayou. Or we may find the words of a Louisiana ballad long lost and overlay them faintly on the image of the tree to integrate the history into the picture.

Whatever we do we have added context to this picture and forever changed how it will be remembered and perceived. How we juxtapose elements and create meaning with symbols, pictures, words and color is one of the more subtle elements of design.

There is a show on television where celebrities take everyday jobs and see if anybody recognizes them "out of context." I thought about that and decided I would probably not trust my instincts and trust the context of the situation - meaning I would not see the celebrity for who they are but rather the job they were doing. The juxtaposition of ideas is a powerful framing tool that designers have at their disposal.

A good designer can make or break an idea just through the visual choices they make. There is no rule with how to use context - only to be aware of context. Hence you can't always judge a book by its cover - or can you?

Venice Beach - seductive and inspiring

graffiti on a store window in Venice Beach

You may not see what I see in this photo but it is inspiring to me. The play of texture, the white accent of the type, the natural grid formed by the window; it is the type of street art that goes into your subconscious mind and creates a library to pull from later as a designer.

I have watched Venice Beach change along with the rest of the world but there is something different - something resistant to change in this community. It has a "spiritual vortex." Every time I think development is going to smother the spirit of this unique place it rebounds and shows its funky side again. The weather brings out the performers on the boardwalk. The election brings out the aging hippie political reformers. The close-knit community brings out the grass-roots publishers and organizations.

In a sense this is a barometer for that old saying "the more things change the more they remain the same." As the world of design zips along with one technological breakthrough after another the basics never go away. We still need to get our ideas across in the most succinct manner possible. As designers we have to make color and font choices but we also need to keep our spirit. That is what makes us unique and our work worth looking at.

I wrote "dare to be square" as I reflected on this indomitable spirit of Venice Beach. This place inspires me because it takes on the new, integrates it with the old and creates a fascinating hybrid. That is my personal goal... to be a 'fascinating hybrid.'

Venice is covered with outdoor art; stencil art on the sidewalks, graffiti, wall murals, tagging, sculpture and if you count the street musicians and outdoor painters it is almost too much to take in. The rules get broken here because there is no monetary reward for what the artist is doing. It is simply a pure expression of their "spirit." But if you look closely street art has the roots of all other great art movements at its core. Social expression.

If I had a nickel for every client who came to me and said "I want an edgier look" I would be very wealthy now. But edgy changes and is not easily defined - until you look at the art people are creating on the street, then you see it. The best of these cutting edge ideas will later make it into the lexicon of modern design.

But to translate those ideas and make them work for the larger public you need to "dare to be square." The basics of good design make those gritty street ideas work for the rest of the world.
'Daring to be square' is the method by which one becomes a fascinating hybrid.