The first person I bumped into at Liggett Studio's "Passages" was assemblage artist Joy Frangiosa.
"Assemblage" was an art term unfamiliar to me. Dictionary.com gives the definition as it applies to fine arts: "a sculptural technique of organizing or composing into a unified whole a group of unrelated and often fragmentary or discarded objects." Frangiosa's art allows seemingly unrelated elements to merge in her work.
Flea Market connoisseur, dumpster diver, and happy recipient of gifts left on her porch by neighbors, Frangiosa holds onto pieces until they all fit together and make sense for a particular assemblage. Both a feeling about the project and time spent doing research ensue before a piece is completed.
Frangiosa's light blue eyes shone with an otherworldly light as she began telling me that she is an artist and a clairvoyant, with a painful personal past. Her pieces, often resembling alters or shrines are meant to give a voice to people whose voices never had a chance to be heard.
Frangiosa walked me around her show explaining the stories behind many of her pieces. That is what struck me most about Frangiosa's work; instead of feeling like I was looking exclusively at visual art, I felt I was reading a narrative and historical piece.
"Stop the Violence" is dedicated to Kelsey Briggs, an Oklahoma baby who didn't make it past the age of two due to child abuse that resulted in murder. The piece serves as a shrine for all abused children.
Other works address the artist's family, pioneer and Native American women, the children of Letchworth Insane Asylum, and murdered orphan Sister Maricica Irina Cornici. Frangiosa tells intense stories with her assemblages, often weaving in an element of hope and "closure," as well as a voice for the voiceless.
The exhibit ends October 24.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Acrylic Paint Transfers
Acrylic Paint Transfers
Step 1/ Choose a photocopy must be a laser print to work with this method.
Step 2/ I like to look at the photocopy and decide if I would like to use some
molding past for some texture as I did in the above piece. Apply the molding paste
and let dry.
Step 3/ I like to pick a background color that I like in the photocopy. I use the color to cover my
canvas. When dry I proceed.
Step 4/ I usually use the same color applied like butter to the front of the photocopy. Place this
onto your canvas and press into place. Then use the back of a spoon or something firm
to smooth out any wrinkles or air from under your photocopy.
Step 5/ The hardest part. Let dry. I like to let it dry over night. You can use a dryer, but I like
to just wait. This would be a good time to do a few at a time. letting them all dry over night.
Step 6/ Get a small pan of warm water and using your finger tips in a rubbing motion remove
the paper. You may need a cotton cloth to brush away the paper and reapply some
more water till all paper is gone. It is ok if some of your print doesn't transfer. With
paint you can go over areas you want to accent and blend as I did out onto your canvas.
This makes your transfer look more like a finished piece and the edges not so noticeable of
your photocopy.
I hope you will give this a try and let me see what you all do. You are all such talented
artist I will be looking forward to your finished pieces.
You may notice some like white spots where maybe the photocopy did not completely
transfer. I felt it gave this piece an old world look and was not concerned. I like to use
a brown shoe polish to rub with a cloth over the areas and then the entire piece. This
gives the finished piece a warmth and ages it a bit
Friday, November 12, 2010
Article from the New york Times. My heart is in this abandoned Asylum.
THIELLS, N.Y.
There was no reason to think that anyone would ever care to remember the 910 or so anonymous souls buried in a distant sloping glade under the T-shaped metal markers with no names, just numbers.
They had, after all, been almost invisible in life. Why try to glimpse them now?
But sometimes people find ways to make amends, however belated. And so here and in other relics of a long-gone world of institutionalized care for society’s outcasts, there’s a movement afoot to remember, to replace numbers with names, to acknowledge the worth of people who lived and died long ago in a world designed to be as distant as the stars.
You won’t find the old cemetery at Letchworth Village unless you look for it — down the gravel path, over the modest creek, into the woods off Call Hollow Road. From 1917 to 1967 it became the final resting place for almost 1,000 participants in a grand experiment that symbolized the aspirations and limitations of a distant era of institutionalized care. Back then it was the home for generations of people viewed generically as the “feebleminded”: the mentally ill, the mentally retarded, epileptics, the homeless and others with nothing to tether them to home, family or society.
Now, here and elsewhere, people are digging through records, checking death certificates, comparing numbers on graves with names in old ledgers, so these dead, too, will be remembered.
“It’s a way to bring dignity to these people,” said Jacqueline Ferrara, the ombudsman for the regional office of the state agency that provides services to people with developmental disabilities. Letchworth Village sent the last of its residents out into group homes in 1996. “There was a time when, I hate to say it, but it was like out of sight, out of mind. This is a way to remember that these were people whose lives had worth and who deserve to be remembered.”
Letchworth Village was never a perfect place, of course. How could it be?
Still, when it opened in Rockland County in 1911, the inspiration of William Pryor Letchworth, who had made a fortune in the harness business, the idea seemed breathtakingly noble for its time.
Instead of overcrowded Dickensian refuges for society’s most vulnerable, there would be a nurturing village in the woods with an acre of land for every inhabitant. Instead of Stygian high rises, there would be 130 rustic fieldstone cottages. There was a band, a Boy Scout troop and a self-sufficient community where residents farmed and raised cattle, pigs and chickens. They made toys to sell at Christmas, and when they died, unless they were taken to family burial plots, their remains went to the cemetery in the sloping two-acre grove.
The dream outstripped the reality, and at its peak Letchworth Village had about twice the population originally forecast and some of its own horrors, caught up in allegations of mistreatment. And even from the start, whatever indignities that remained from life were compounded in death.
Whether because the state saw no need to pay for gravestones for people whose lives were so devalued anyway or because their families did not want the shame of their afflicted son or daughter, brother or aunt advertised to all who might come to visit, they were buried anonymously.
The graves were marked only by the numbered steel markers anchored to the ground by cement poured into industrial-size cans. In 1967, they began burying the dead in a second graveyard that did have headstones, but the old cemetery today has a capricious air of eerie repose, the hundreds of steel markers like odd industrial blooms augmented by occasional stray headstones paid for by family members.
As it turned out, it was the modern-day counterparts of the forgotten dead who first spoke up for them. At meetings of the so-called self advocates living in group homes, the subject of the cemeteries came up.
FROM that came a commitment on the part of the advocates and state agencies to bring dignity to the anonymous dead. The first place it was done was at what was once the Wassaic Developmental Center. There, a bronze marker in stone lists the names of some 625 of the dead under the heading: “In Memory of Those Who Shall Not Be Forgotten.”
At the old Letchworth Village cemetery, there’s a new planter and wooden sign at the entrance to the graveyard. Mrs. Ferrara is going through all the records to come up with names for a plaque planned for this spring.
It’s a gesture perhaps about symbolism as much as reality. Few people come to visit the site, most of whose denizens were buried a half-century to almost a century ago. Vandals have knocked over some of the markers, and there’s trash dumped in the woods leading up to it. Still, she walks through the cemetery, dead leaves swirling underfoot, metal markers listing this way and that, and says: “These are lives that should be recognized and celebrated and acknowledged, not as numbers, but as names. It’s the right thing to do.”
I have visited many times the grounds of the abandoned childrens asylum Letchworth Village. On one of my visits I noted condos were going to be built. I got in touch with the New York Time and stated to them my fears that the nameless graves of nearly 1500 would be forgotten or paved over. One of the reporters who wrote a article in the 90's assured me he would get someone out there to do another story on the cemetery and the asylum. The reporter came through and that is the article above.
I have a great kinship to these abandoned childrens institutions because I lived in one and when I visit its like a coming home feeling.
There was no reason to think that anyone would ever care to remember the 910 or so anonymous souls buried in a distant sloping glade under the T-shaped metal markers with no names, just numbers.
They had, after all, been almost invisible in life. Why try to glimpse them now?
But sometimes people find ways to make amends, however belated. And so here and in other relics of a long-gone world of institutionalized care for society’s outcasts, there’s a movement afoot to remember, to replace numbers with names, to acknowledge the worth of people who lived and died long ago in a world designed to be as distant as the stars.
You won’t find the old cemetery at Letchworth Village unless you look for it — down the gravel path, over the modest creek, into the woods off Call Hollow Road. From 1917 to 1967 it became the final resting place for almost 1,000 participants in a grand experiment that symbolized the aspirations and limitations of a distant era of institutionalized care. Back then it was the home for generations of people viewed generically as the “feebleminded”: the mentally ill, the mentally retarded, epileptics, the homeless and others with nothing to tether them to home, family or society.
Now, here and elsewhere, people are digging through records, checking death certificates, comparing numbers on graves with names in old ledgers, so these dead, too, will be remembered.
“It’s a way to bring dignity to these people,” said Jacqueline Ferrara, the ombudsman for the regional office of the state agency that provides services to people with developmental disabilities. Letchworth Village sent the last of its residents out into group homes in 1996. “There was a time when, I hate to say it, but it was like out of sight, out of mind. This is a way to remember that these were people whose lives had worth and who deserve to be remembered.”
Letchworth Village was never a perfect place, of course. How could it be?
Still, when it opened in Rockland County in 1911, the inspiration of William Pryor Letchworth, who had made a fortune in the harness business, the idea seemed breathtakingly noble for its time.
Instead of overcrowded Dickensian refuges for society’s most vulnerable, there would be a nurturing village in the woods with an acre of land for every inhabitant. Instead of Stygian high rises, there would be 130 rustic fieldstone cottages. There was a band, a Boy Scout troop and a self-sufficient community where residents farmed and raised cattle, pigs and chickens. They made toys to sell at Christmas, and when they died, unless they were taken to family burial plots, their remains went to the cemetery in the sloping two-acre grove.
The dream outstripped the reality, and at its peak Letchworth Village had about twice the population originally forecast and some of its own horrors, caught up in allegations of mistreatment. And even from the start, whatever indignities that remained from life were compounded in death.
Whether because the state saw no need to pay for gravestones for people whose lives were so devalued anyway or because their families did not want the shame of their afflicted son or daughter, brother or aunt advertised to all who might come to visit, they were buried anonymously.
The graves were marked only by the numbered steel markers anchored to the ground by cement poured into industrial-size cans. In 1967, they began burying the dead in a second graveyard that did have headstones, but the old cemetery today has a capricious air of eerie repose, the hundreds of steel markers like odd industrial blooms augmented by occasional stray headstones paid for by family members.
As it turned out, it was the modern-day counterparts of the forgotten dead who first spoke up for them. At meetings of the so-called self advocates living in group homes, the subject of the cemeteries came up.
FROM that came a commitment on the part of the advocates and state agencies to bring dignity to the anonymous dead. The first place it was done was at what was once the Wassaic Developmental Center. There, a bronze marker in stone lists the names of some 625 of the dead under the heading: “In Memory of Those Who Shall Not Be Forgotten.”
At the old Letchworth Village cemetery, there’s a new planter and wooden sign at the entrance to the graveyard. Mrs. Ferrara is going through all the records to come up with names for a plaque planned for this spring.
It’s a gesture perhaps about symbolism as much as reality. Few people come to visit the site, most of whose denizens were buried a half-century to almost a century ago. Vandals have knocked over some of the markers, and there’s trash dumped in the woods leading up to it. Still, she walks through the cemetery, dead leaves swirling underfoot, metal markers listing this way and that, and says: “These are lives that should be recognized and celebrated and acknowledged, not as numbers, but as names. It’s the right thing to do.”
I have visited many times the grounds of the abandoned childrens asylum Letchworth Village. On one of my visits I noted condos were going to be built. I got in touch with the New York Time and stated to them my fears that the nameless graves of nearly 1500 would be forgotten or paved over. One of the reporters who wrote a article in the 90's assured me he would get someone out there to do another story on the cemetery and the asylum. The reporter came through and that is the article above.
I have a great kinship to these abandoned childrens institutions because I lived in one and when I visit its like a coming home feeling.
Two boys from Letchworth Village who resided in the thirtys at LVA
T-shaped marker for the graves
Front of the Letchworth Asylum cottage and vintage photo as a overlay.
Photo sepia 1800's. Mixed race baby and mother
I came across this photo in a flea market, On the back it says Maggie and Goldie. A mixed raced baby in the arms of a loving mother. What was society like for this mom and her baby Goldie?
I found out that sepia photographs were taken in the 1880's and the pigment used to create the hues of browns actually helped preserve the photos.
I was happy to take Maggie and Goldie home with me and I look at it often wondering what challenges she and her child faced in life during a time when interracial marriage was not the norm or even close to it.
To me Maggie represents a beautiful Madonna and child.
I found out that sepia photographs were taken in the 1880's and the pigment used to create the hues of browns actually helped preserve the photos.
I was happy to take Maggie and Goldie home with me and I look at it often wondering what challenges she and her child faced in life during a time when interracial marriage was not the norm or even close to it.
To me Maggie represents a beautiful Madonna and child.
Creating small works of art with photos
Hello everyone; Ive been inspired by all the photoshop pics I've been seeing. I decided to try this in a artistic creative way getting some paint under my nails. Here's how you can create little works of art from pics you've taken that your not pleased with.
Pick your photo. Now rinse your photo under water to remove the shiny like film coating the pic. Next cover the section in the photo you want to preserve with modge podge or any gel medium. Now mix 50/50 bleach and water. I like to use a brush but some people just place the whole photo in the bleach mixture and remove when they get the colors they like and rinse or pat with water to stop the removal of color by the bleach. If all the color come off thats fine. Pat dry, sometimes I use a hairdryer. Get your acrylic paints, or pastel (oil) or water colors and start to paint your photo. I like to pounce layers of paint on and see what happens, I use a wadded up piece of paper towel. I also accent with paint parts of the pic to make them pop. You can add text if you like. you are the artist. Enjoy. I like to use brown shoe polish over the finished piece it kinda antiques it so the colors look richer.
Below are the finished product one as it looks and the other edited with exposure and contrast.
Color photos are used for this method. So dig around in those boxes of photos and have fun.
Pick your photo. Now rinse your photo under water to remove the shiny like film coating the pic. Next cover the section in the photo you want to preserve with modge podge or any gel medium. Now mix 50/50 bleach and water. I like to use a brush but some people just place the whole photo in the bleach mixture and remove when they get the colors they like and rinse or pat with water to stop the removal of color by the bleach. If all the color come off thats fine. Pat dry, sometimes I use a hairdryer. Get your acrylic paints, or pastel (oil) or water colors and start to paint your photo. I like to pounce layers of paint on and see what happens, I use a wadded up piece of paper towel. I also accent with paint parts of the pic to make them pop. You can add text if you like. you are the artist. Enjoy. I like to use brown shoe polish over the finished piece it kinda antiques it so the colors look richer.
Below are the finished product one as it looks and the other edited with exposure and contrast.
Color photos are used for this method. So dig around in those boxes of photos and have fun.
Artist statement
Artist Statement
I am a storyteller using mixed media art(collage&assemblage) to communicate my experiences to other human beings. As a child I was captivated by the sacredness fostered by ritual,prayer,candles,incense and towering angels and saints. I was dwelling visually and spiritually in a magical place. But like magic the imperial enviroment concealed its dark side. Thousand of hours have gone into perfecting my style. I combine found objects,photos,and other unusual materials to visually expose my emotions and experience with humanity. Each piece tells a story freeing my soul allowing me to confront my imposing sensitivity to life. I relate stories through art as a way of making sense of the world . Exploring cultural values and belief systems helping myself and others feel a sense of belonging in the world. Stories collaged with passion create a context that put the audience in a position to understand why a view or point matters.
I am a storyteller using mixed media art(collage&assemblage) to communicate my experiences to other human beings. As a child I was captivated by the sacredness fostered by ritual,prayer,candles,incense and towering angels and saints. I was dwelling visually and spiritually in a magical place. But like magic the imperial enviroment concealed its dark side. Thousand of hours have gone into perfecting my style. I combine found objects,photos,and other unusual materials to visually expose my emotions and experience with humanity. Each piece tells a story freeing my soul allowing me to confront my imposing sensitivity to life. I relate stories through art as a way of making sense of the world . Exploring cultural values and belief systems helping myself and others feel a sense of belonging in the world. Stories collaged with passion create a context that put the audience in a position to understand why a view or point matters.
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