It takes time to move mountain
I gave up. No gallery was interested to stage a student art exhibition. I called my art teacher Apollo that he needed to step in now and activate his connections in the art world. I believed galleries would give him face since he is an established artist himself.
But I had one last number yet to call. It was a newly opened gallery hidden away amongst the shop houses at Bangsar Baru. The rain was pouring heavily when I arrived. The gallery was at the attic and a guy with pale face and big eyes was standing out there puffing away. He reminded me of alien and I secretly hoped that he would not be the gallery manager. Thank God he was not. The manager Lew was talking on the phone with much waving of his arm while pacing up and down his room.
His phone conversation seemed to take forever. I decided to sneak to the attic where the gallery was. It was a gallery cum bar. A grand piano stood elegantly at the corner next to the balcony. The walls were adorned with paintings from a female artist who resided in France and Asia. Her theme was about nature and her approach was abstract. The primarily red tone of her paintings gave the whole gallery a warm glow despite the stormy weather outside. There was an interesting interpretation from her on red lanterns during the Mooncake festival. It seems to me that a lot of westerners were indeed fascinated by the culture of Asia.
Lew was pure business. He rattled on the whole list of cost items for an exhibition, the sales commission, the publicity, the press, the radio and the whole work. I thought he would make a very good wedding planner too. He wanted to know how many pieces I intended to exhibit and the dimensions. I knew my classmates well. It would take another two weeks for them to take photographs and submit details of their work. Hence I told him I would come back when I have collected all the work.
Deep in my heart, I knew that this place was too chic for a student art exhibition of sporadic subjects. I made a mental note that may be one day I would have my solo exhibition here.
Finding my Voice
I did not find this gallery by myself. It came as a recommendation. The person who recommended, Mr Stone Mountain told me that Reka was a young but influential gallery and I should speak to SK. Two weeks into my search for galleries and still no site in sight, anywhere would do for me. All I wanted was a space.
I dialed the number and explained that I was referred to him by a Mr.Stone Mountain. He said I could come over and bring some of my work. How about I first sent you photographs, apparently unaccustomed to his departure from the usual email-me-your-work-don’t-call me- I call you procedure. Just come over, he said, he will be working in the gallery the whole day. I concluded that my referer Mr. Stone Mountain must be someone whose words carry weight.
Reka gallery is facing an open field where a few construction workers were pounding away. The wind was so strong that it almost blew my paintings away. SK was speaking to someone at the entrance and he signaled to me that I should wait inside. The space was partitioned into a work studio and gallery. On the elevated table at the side there was an incomplete charcoal sketch of someone’s still life study. On the wall hung a large wall length work-in-progress comprising of interleaving rectangles of various lengths, size and colors. I glided into the the gallery. Lights were dim but the photography work on display by a young photographer showed perspectives and breadth of outdoor vision.
I read from the website that SK himself is a practicing artist whose works ranging from paintings to stage production and he teaches art too. He soon finished his conversation and walked over to introduce himself. I placed by the way the three paintings “Walking up the Aisle”, “Morning Walk” and “Kedai Runcit”. SK has a lanky frame and he stood looking at my work and pondering for a whole. My heart was beating really fast but I insisted that he speak the truth. He nodded when I explained that I was just a weekend hobbyist. He explained that to him the work presented did not carry a very clear message, which was to be expected from student’s work. “You do want to say something with your painting, but you have not found your voice yet.”
“To have an exhibition, is like staging a play at a theater. It is more than just to present aesthetically pleasing work. You need to have a message – a voice”
I could see where he was coming from. I was not disappointed at all because no one has put that across that clearly. He could not have stressed more the importance of sharpening our senses as artists towards our surroudings and shaping our own point of view. SK might have put it in a different way, it effectively rhythms with what Apollo said about observing and receiving inspiration from the universe.
SK advised me to frequent other art exhibitions to learn from other artists and explore other mediums too. Most importantly is to develop my own point of view. He recommended me a book named Art Fundamentals and Core Concepts and welcome me to look him up if I need a critic or sparing partner.
Excuse me, you are blocking
My father was worried sick thinking that I was going to be a full time artist. I romanticized being an artist over a cup of café mocha. Before I even finished half a cup, I have come to a satisfying conclusion that struggling artist and material comfort do not go that well together. I am one who is too entrenched in my habit of swiping plastic for luxury and conveniences. The thought of going cold turkey to cut ties with my plastic is just too frightening. So don’t worry Dad.
No news from Persian Lily still. I have a strange feeling that I most probably would end up preparing for this exhibition all by myself.
I called the gallery that Spectacled D recommended. A lady who sounded a bit agitated picked up the phone. I told her my intention to rent her gallery for a joint exhibition. She said she was busy and should email her photographs of my work. I must have caught her at the wrong time.
I proceeded to dial a list of numbers I obtained from the gallery listing in
http://www.kakiseni.com/ . For some numbers the phone just kept on ringing. For some it was the usual email-me-your-work-don’t call me- I call you. There are a few who were very helpful but did not call me after they saw my work.
I tried to remain upbeat and wished they could just name a price, let the space and stop bothering about seeing my work. After all it was a joint exhibition. There was a gallery located at a very attractive avenue at Avenue K and did not even ask to email photographs. I was exhilarated but soon discovered that the rental was way beyond my imagination.
Persian Lady eventually replied saying that she was too busy but would call Galeri Maybank in a couple of days.
The Preparation
While waiting for Persian Lily to contact Maybank Gallery, I set out to compile a photographic archive of my work. Some paintings were given away as presents to friends and family members residing outside Malaysia. Through email and sms they sent me photographic images of my work which I assembled into internet album complete with details of dates painted, dimensions and my experience of each of the pieces.
A week had passed and still no news from Persian Lily. I had a funny feeling that nothing was going to happen unless I started to act.
I remembered a gallery located at the exclusive suburb of Bukit Damansara where I visited once for an exhibition by a Thai Impressionist artist. A friendly voice answered when I called. He asked if I am a full time artist and enquired the nature of my work. I said no we are not, but just weekend hobbyists wanting to rent his gallery. I realized now that statement was enough for him to hang up the phone. But he did not. He told me that his gallery was selective with the work they exhibit and more often than not, they preferred to showcase work from professional artists. However he encouraged me to send him pictures of my work and to my surprise, to see him at his gallery.
It was a hot afternoon but his gallery was tucked away comfortably in the shades. Apparently the gallery had just staged an exhibition from a female South American artist. Most of the work had been sold and the few pieces that left hanging at the end of the gallery have red dots marking reserved pieces. The person whom I spoke to on the phone, Spectacled D came out to greet me. He was very friendly but I was still nervous. He asked me if I brought my work. I told him the works were in the car as I was a bit shy to bring them out. He shot me a disbelieving glare wondering if my intention to exhibit was real. Realized that I was making a huge mistake, without hesitation, I ushered out of my car three of my paintings from Tree Series. He leaned them against the wall under the light and examined them.
He turned around and asked me why I paint. Through the conversation, he explained to me that this gallery is a family-owned business and he is the 2nd generation. He is managing it himself now because his curator decided to take a break to travel the world. He explained his gallery’s preference to give priority to professional artists who have been supporting his gallery. Professional artists are particular about their gallery remaining exclusive. While I thought he was declining me politely, he turned the pages of his diary and checked the availability of his gallery. He told me there is a short 1 week slot in late September and suggested that is best that I rent instead of selling for obvious reason. He quoted me the price for rental which I knew was above our budget. He encouraged me to look around and gave me two other galleries who could be more open to young artists. Most importantly, he said, was to continue painting.
Before we parted, he told me Morning Walk was quite a decent piece. The sun was still glaring when I stepped out. Be bold and brave, I gather, was the lesson of the day.
A New Star is born, or may be not ?
I was going to organize an art exhibition. High with all the encouragement from friends, I daydreamed I will become a overnight star in the art world. May be mine will be sold for millions and I will donate half to charity and the balance will allow me to live the rest of my life sipping margarita by the pool. Dream on. Here is the journey
I have been dabbling with oil for almost three years now and churned out pieces depending on what caught my flittering fancy at that time. My teacher Apollo says always that as artists we have a responsibility to exhibit our work in public whose feedback will fuel further artistic development of ourselves and help expand the circle of art lovers. When he brought it up again four weeks ago, my classmate Persian Lily and I thought a joint exhibition would be a fun thing to do.
I volunteered to design the theme and invitation cards while Persian Lily was made responsible to contact the Pusat Seni of Maybank. Pusat Seni is a non-profit gallery and was built specifically to provide young artists a space to exhibit their work. As Persian Lily works for an international bank with a rather elaborate job title herself, we reckon that she would have a default VIP pass to secure one of the most exclusive exhibition spaces in the Klang Valley. We could not have been more wrong.
Sensing Senses
I was being approached by a fine dining restaurant to do a series of work for them. It all happened on the night when Joyce, one of my best friends, whose birthday is just a day later than mine, decided to celebrate our birthday together. Through all the years that we knew each other, we have always put off or cancelled the dinner date for the better of emergency system rescue operation ( her ), client submission deadline (me ) or just simply too exhausted ( us ). Since I am out of the grind mill, I have been tasked to make it happen for the two of us this year.
Senses is a western fine-dining restaurant that is posh cosmopolitan and yet have an air of childlike mischief. It is like inviting the head of State to dinner and admist the heavily guarded security guards, the topic of our supposedly serious conversation turns out to be the prank we did to our mates during our childhood days.
While I was trying to scoop the last drop of “duck soup” (it has a fancy name that I forgot) from my gingerly lifted soup bowl, Kelly the chef de Cuisine (English. Restaurant Manager) came to check on us at our table. I was surprised to see someone so pretty (and slim) and down-to-earth to be managing such an exquisite restaurant. The waiter must have told her that it was both our birthday. Kelly was delighted that we came and Joyce could not stop herself from announcing to the world that I was officially a lady of leisure. Jumping promptly to my own defense, I declared that I am very busy with my hobbies now.
Kelly : “What do you do?”
ME: “ A couple of oil”
Kelly, “Really? I like the texture of oil. What do you think I should get for this restaurant?”
ME: “Something sensual, cosmopolitan, but not over the top…not Ken Dome”
Kelly: “Yeh, definitely not. You think you can create something for me?”
ME: “ Me ? Well….er……..ok……..”
Kelly: “Fine. Show me some of your work next week.”
She turned around and disappeared in a jiffy to her kitchen again. I drove home that night completely high despite not tasted a single drop of alcohol.
So here I am back in Senses again 5 days later with 4 of my pieces and a small cheap looking soft cover Kodak photo book. I brought along Desert Symphony I, Walking up the Aisle, and Midnight gardener. The Kedai Runcit piece was screaming and kicking to tag along. Hence I succumbed and and allowed it to come along though I knew it would not fit very well. The restaurant was sending off their last lunch guest and Kelly was with someone when I arrived. I waited at the bar with 4 of my odd sized paintings leaning across several bar stools, like a Bohemian mother and her 4 unruly children, completely out of place but with obvious mischievous intention. While I was engrossed with studying a chef working his pasta dough at the kitchen table, Kelly popped up from nowhere , but with another chef behind her.
Kelly: “ Hi, Wendy ! How are you ?”, smiling and extending a warm handshake
ME: “May I introduce to you four of my work.” I told her their names.
Kelly: “They are beautiful.” She was very fond of Walking up the Aisle. She turned around and looked at the gentleman behind her.
Kelly: “Hey Mike, what do you think? I like them.”
Mike was quiet, thinking.
“Hey Wendy are you selling this ?” said Kelly while looking through my album.
She is looking at the Morning Walk, one of my treasured pieces
ME: “ Errr…… not really…”
Kelly: “I like this one.”
I guess Mike must be the sous chef (English. Assistant Restaurant Manager). Gosh, they are all so young and slim. I think I am in the wrong line. Now back to Mike. In his checked black and white pants and white shirt, and with a little knife at his right arm pocket, Mike was squinting his eyes and his lips drooped. Mike spoke with a funny continental accent.
“I was looking at something with lines."
Mike continues: “ You know, a dash of red here, a little bit of blue there…”
" You know.... here in the middle, there is some stroke like this...."
" ...but not like this..."
Kelly looked at me, “You know what he is talking about?”
ME: “No, Ma'am”
Mike came back with a small piece of paper from his kitchen, apparently frustrated with our inability to read the great mind. From his left arm pocket, out flashed a pen and he started to draw a few lines on that tiny square of paper. Before we realized, we were standing at various spots in the restaurant and discussing what will be good. I began to catch a glimpse of he was looking for and I agreed that something too explicit will not be good for the funky atmosphere. Something Paul Klee, may be.
Mike: “ You know..this is not for a cozy sit down place….is for the fast pace.... city folks who is in and out of here within 45 minutes. They have some good food, enjoy and they are out.”
Mike continued , almost like speaking to himself: “I am so glad that they finally decided to decorate these walls. It is just too plain”
Mike: “I want to let the guest have something to look at before the meal is served. To enjoy…..”
Suddenly something clicked.
ME: “You need something more abstract.... fluid lines... Must have red. Red invokes appetite."
Kelly looked at me and looked at the blank wall again, and me again. Then in a deep thought.
ME: “I might have something for you. There is a piece that I have in mind. Be back in an hour”
Kelly: “Ok. Let’s shape the style first.”
I drove back to my studio which is just 15 minutes away and rampaged for a piece that my teacher was going to throw away. He had some spare colors the other day. On a recycled canvas, he started to mop concentric circles of blue and red and orange using crumpled old Chinese newspaper. However before I got out to fetch this so called accidental child, Kelly asked again if I would sell the Morning Walk to her. I told her I will think about it.
When I was back again in an hour, the staff at the restaurant were excited to see me.
“Hey you are back.”
“Are they going to buy your paintings?”
“The other day another artist came with what you call.... women’s bodies”
“The concept tak gel lah”
Kelly was busy in another discussion with yet another chef wearing a flat top white hat. Mike came to greet me. I showed him the newspaper mopped painting of concentric circles. He looked at it, “Noooo.. plain background. Solid color. One color …then a little dash of color here….I think I have two at home. I will bring them to show Kelly tomorrow”
To tell the truth, I was very amused by this frustration and yet impressed by his commitment to make his restaurant perfect. Hence we both decided that we shall contact each other again while giving ourselves some time to think of the concept.
As for Morning Walk, and a lot of my other treasured paintings, I might sell them one day or may be sooner, at the art exhibition that is coming in one or two month’s time. May be after I complete my current series, I shall work on the jungle series again. May be...that will depend on my mood then.
The picture in this blog is a closed up shot of the hardened paints on my easel frame.
I gave up. No gallery was interested to stage a student art exhibition. I called my art teacher Apollo that he needed to step in now and activate his connections in the art world. I believed galleries would give him face since he is an established artist himself.
