Creative Footprint

Creative Footprint: Glow in the Dark Scorpions

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef.

It's that time of year when and where we are inundated with glow in the dark pumpkins, spiders, skulls, bats, and witches. From toys to posters to t-shirts to sneakers, items that glow in the dark have instant popularity among the young and old alike. The attention-grabbing effect is caused by a simple chemical reaction referred to as photoluminescence.

The most common way of making an object glow in the dark is by incorporating a phosphor, a chemical that gives off visible light. When a phosphor is exposed to light, the light energy excites the electrons. 

As electrons absorb and then lose this energy, they too release it as light. Phosphors are found inside television screens, fluorescent light bulbs and computer monitors.

The other night I was taking a walk with my friend Jason Hamilton, you might remember him – I included him in my June post about the inherent design traits of the caddisfly. He’s my biologist friend. 

Anyway he and I were out walking in the crisp Ithaca air and we got to talking about scorpions amongst other things. He said he had a collection of arachnids, mainly scorpions and tarantulas in his lab at Ithaca College.

At about the same time we were talking about scorpions, we walked past a glowing spider in a web displayed prominently in a window. Hmmm, I thought, maybe that’s not too farfetched. Who knows, there just might be a glowing spider in the real world. 

After all, anything is possible in nature. I wrote about happy-faced spiders here in a previous post, which many of my friends said they had never heard of before. Life is, as they say, truly stranger than fiction.

Right then and there Jason informed me that scorpions glow under ultraviolet light. Yeah, that’s right, scorpions glow. Glow in the dark scorpions. How cool is that? Unbelievable. I had to see this for myself. 

I asked if I could have a look at the creatures and the next day we both headed out to the “lab on the hill.” Camera in hand.

Enter: Pandinus Imperator, better known as the Emperor Scorpion or Imperial Scorpion, a species of scorpion native to Africa. The Emperor is one of the largest species of scorpion in the world, with adults averaging about 8 inches in length.

 

They were beautiful and grotesque looking at the same time. In fact scorpions are an excellent example of the subversive potential of beauty. Take a look at these guys and ponder on beauty in correlation to nature’s beneficence.

 

They’re big, nasty, seemingly aggressive and they actually look like they have a bit of attitude. They’re also somewhat solemn and actually kind of mellow. Interesting paradox of form, shape, color and mood. Wonderful in all respects to look at. To ponder. 

 

I’d been lowering the camera inside the aquarium to get some good close-ups for about ten minutes till Jason lowered his hand into their habitat and allowed one to crawl onto his open palm. 

The scorpion positioned itself carefully on his palm and slowly turned around to face me. It displayed an incredible face. All at once gentle and ominous. Mysterious.

  

Emperor scorpions are typically black in overall coloration, but brownish and greenish colored specimens are not uncommon. Both males and females possess large, thick, granular pedipalpal chelae (claws) with a sparse covering of sensory setae (hairs). 

 

Their large claws are capable of delivering painful attacks that may break the surface of the skin. In the majority of specimens, the telson (stinger) is brownish to brownish-red in coloration with sparse setae on the external surface.

 

Although most are hesitant to sting, all are capable of delivering multiple stings when annoyed. However, most specimens will choose to rely on their powerful claws to defend against perceived threats. Their life span usually ranges from 5–8 years in captivity, but perhaps shorter in the wild. And then Jason broke out the black light and shone it on the scorpions. Showtime!

 

Wonderfully eerie. But what's really cool is that it is established that nearly all species of scorpions fluoresce under UV light. Fluorescence is the emission of visible light by a substance that has absorbed light of a differing, usually invisible, wavelength. 

Fluorescence happens when a fraction of the light illuminating an object is absorbed and then re-emitted as a different color, a two-step process that is necessarily inefficient. In the human visual environment of white daylight, nearly all fluorescent signals get lost.

 

What causes scorpions to fluoresce is that the material in their exoskeleton absorbs the UV wavelengths and retransmits it as visible light, which we, as humans see as the “glow.”

 

Jaekelopterus rhenaniae, a 390-million-year-old specimen of ancient sea scorpion

 The colonization of the land by Scorpionidae began after the Ordovician Silurian extinction events (about 450 million years ago). A postulate for at least one of these extinction events, posted on Arachnoboards.com is the cosmological gamma ray burst, an effect of which would be to destroy a large percentage of earth’s protective ozone layer resulting in a massive increase in dangerous UV light intensity. 

This speaks of an unintended consequence of the chemistry of the scorpion cuticle that serves no particular purpose. This speaks to function - not adaption. 

 

With that said, many also believe in the theory that the fluorescence of Scorpionidae evolved as camouflage, having once had the ability to fluoresce a kind of bluish green because of their habitat in shallow waters. And today their ability to fluoresce is nothing more than a remnant of their former aquatic existence. 

This again also speaks to adaptation – not function. Interesting to ponder. How many more "remnants" of our past speak of adaptation as opposed to function?

 

No matter how we look at it or why we think they have this ability, it is fairly widely accepted that in one way or another, their ability to fluoresce is a direct link to their past. Staring at the scorpion definitely made me feel closer to our past – closer to another time in our planet’s history. 

It made me wonder about how we as well as many other creatures evolved. I wondered about adaptation as opposed to function. And then it was back to the daily grind. Painting, teaching, painting, teaching, parenting, parenting and more parenting.

I hadn’t thought about the scorpions and their ability to “glow” for a week or so and then the other morning as I sat on the couch with my daughter and watched TV with her, it came back to me. It was a pleasant sunny Saturday morning. Birds merrily chirping outside the windows eating heartily at the feeders.

 

Huddled comfortably on the couch, window shades open, early light streaming in, delighting in the giddy laughter of my daughter, the thought of scorpions came back to me. Yeah kind of weird I'd be thinking of scorpions when it was kind of like a Disneyesque morning. 

You'd think I'd have bird songs and fat faced crickets with big feet and tiny umbrellas leaping in and out of my brain and fairies and princesses dancing on my skull, but scorps took center stage. And here's why...

 

We were watching a program called Dinosaur Train, a lively colorful animated show loaded with adolescent dinosaurs and lots of high pitched voices – easily managing to get Zayla’s attention. Mine too actually. 

Each half-hour episode includes two 11-minute animated segments, along with a live action segment that Scott Sampson, or as he is known on the show, Dr. Scott, interacts with kids during these segments. 

 

An image of an animated stegosaurus appeared on the screen and Dr. Scott asked “why does the stegosaurus have plates along its back?” He continued with, “could it have something to do with cooling itself in the hot afternoon sun?” At this moment, a dual image appeared on the screen. On the right was the stegosaurus and on the left was an African elephant. 

 

Clearly he was inferring to the hypothesis that maybe, just maybe a stegosaurus uses its back plates much in the manner as does an elephant, by flapping its large ears to cool itself. He asked, “could it be that a stegosaurus uses its plates much in the manner an African elephant does?”

He continued even further – and this is the part that blew me away, “or kids, is it merely a coincidence and a stegosaurus’ plates don’t really have any use at all?” I took that to mean that the plates spoke to adaptation - not function. Amazing, here the notion of adaptation - not function, rose its curious head again.

 

After all, it's fun to imagine what the plates are for. And then again maybe we don’t need to know what a stegosaurus’ plates are for at all. I mean, is there always a reason for everything in nature? I certainly don’t believe so. We try awfully hard to place meaning and in particular define and explain the existence of just about everything. 

Science seems too rigid in its eagerness to make sense of everything. I guess in some grand respect that's the job of science. But I think it's also fair to say that perhaps scientists simply don't play enough. Play defined us as children. What happens to it during adulthood? Where is it in scientific exploration? 

There's certainly plenty of play in art making. There's also lots of crossover between art and science. It's important if not critical to incorporate the notions of play into our daily thoughts on why things are the way they are and to leave some things unanswered.

The fact of the matter is that there are likely more things than not that we will never know the reasons for. Take Halloween for example. Adaptation or function? Or just plain wtf? Your guess is as good as mine. 

 

 

 

 

Happy Halloween.

Marc Dennis can be contacted here. 

Creative Footprint: The Swastika Has Hit The Fan

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef.

In 2005, the U.S. Navy announced that a barracks complex at its Coronado Island base in Southern California will undergo more than half a million dollars in renovations because it resembles a swastika from the air. 

After aerial images on Google Earth revealed the architectural pattern a few years back, and online forums buzzed like crazy with heated discussions about the building, hundreds of news organizations picked up on it, including CNN, posted in the video below. The swastika no doubt had indeed hit the world wide fan. 

Boley Toy Corporation based in California, in the early 90's marketed what can be argued I suppose as a badly executed design for a children’s toy called “Cool Toys Racing Game.” An image of the game is on the left.

                     

Regent Products, a toy company based out of Chicago, around the same time, offered yet another badly executed design for a children’s toy called “Speed Game.” It can be seen posted on the above right. Two swastika infused toy designs about racing. Hmm...maybe I missed something in all my years of researching the Holocaust about the swastika representing speed. 

Zara Fashion recently manufactured handbags decorated with swastikas; intertwined with designs of embroidered bicycles and flowers and other non-descript elements. The interesting thing about the bag design is that it harkens to some degree to the history of the swastika as an ancient symbol. 

A Zara spokesman said: "We did not realize Swastikas appeared on some of these bags, the swastika was not on the bag which was sourced by us after being supplied by an external producer. "Of course we apologize to anyone who was offended by the bag, and we will be withdrawing it from all our stores."

Though the image of a swastika on a designer bag or as a toy design may prove to be problematic and evoke emotional reaction its usages throughout time have indeed been complex, its meanings diverse, and its visual presentations varied. 

But let's face it, the swastika simply isn't the kind of symbol that can be easily modified, interpreted or re-appropriated. Let's have a look at its history and you be the judge.

Until the Nazis used this symbol, the swastika was used by many cultures throughout the past 3,000 years to represent life, sun, power, strength, and good luck. The word “swastika” comes from the Sanskrit suastika - “su” meaning “good,” “asti” meaning “to be,” and “ka” as a suffix.

Bowl with swastika painted on the side in the collection of The Archeological Museum in Athens, Greece

The swastika predates the ancient Egyptian symbol, the Ankh. One of the earliest known swastikas appears on a pottery bowl, which was found in ancient Samarra (ancient Baghdad) and dates to about 4000 BCE. Swastikas have been found on many artifacts such as pottery and coins dating from ancient Troy. 

 

It has been seen on terracotta articles as well as ancient vases of Greece, Cyprus, Crete and Rhodes. It was a favorite symbol on the coins of ancient Greece and India. Swastikas were also found engraved on funeral urns that have been dug up in northern Italy.

All throughout history, the image of the swastika could be found in many cultures around the world, including in China, Japan, India, America and southern Europe. 

By the Middle Ages, the swastika was a well known, if not commonly used, symbol but was called by many different names in different countries.

In China it was the “wan,” in England, a “fylfot,” in Germany, a “hakenkreuz,” in Greece it was known by two names, “tetraskelion” and “gammadion” and in India, the “swastika." 

The image on the left above is called an "ayagaptha" found in this case as a carving on the interior of a temple in Mathura, India. 

Swastikas have been discovered at several locations as well in the New World. They were found in monumental remains of the primitive Mexicans and Peruvians and on objects exhumed from prehistoric burial mounds within the limits of the USA. 

Though it is not known for exactly how long, Native Americans both from southwestern and northeastern woodland tribes also had long used the symbol of the swastika. 

Even as late as the early 1900’s Native American sports teams used the swastika as their logo. 

Early in the twentieth century the swastika was still a symbol with positive connotations. The swastika was also a common decoration that often adorned cigarette cases, postcards, coins, poker chips, cards, and buildings.

Poker chips made by the United States Playing Card Company in Cincinnati, OH 

Postcard, copyright 1907 by E. Phillips, a U.S. card publisher

A postcard sent from the town of Swastika, Canada, dated June 1910

The town in Ontario  was named 'Swastika' after a lucky Gold strike in 1911. On a related note, Swastika, New York, located near the Adirondack Park Preserve in the northeast corner of the state, is adjacent to "Swastika Road." 

 The public access area of Fish Lake near Windom, Minnesota is named Swastika Beach. Swastika Park is also the name of a housing subdivision in Miami, Florida, created in 1917.  An upscale subdivision in Denver is named "Swastika Acres." Its name has been traced to the Denver Swastika Land Company, founded in 1908. 

 Pacific System Homes surfboards' first label or insignia was a swastika. This was before WWII and Hitler. The swastika at the time was viewed as a symbol in Eastern religions of peace & prosperity.  

 In the early part of 1940, because of the perverted wide spread use of the swastika, Pacific System Homes Surfboards changed their swastika label to a more popular 'Waikiki Surfboards."

In 1925, Coca-Cola made a lucky watch fob in the shape of a swastika with right-facing arms and the slogan, "Drink Coca Cola five cents in bottles."  During War World I, the swastika could even be found on the shoulder patches of the American pilots of the 45th Division that fought for the Allied forces before America's entry into the war. Below is the swastika design found on the patches of the airmen. 

In ancient times, the direction of the swastika was interchangeable. Some cultures in the past however had differentiated between the clockwise "swastika" and the counter-clockwise "sauvastikaIn." 

These cultures claimed the swastika symbolized health and life while the sauvastika took on a mystical meaning of bad-luck or misfortune, which brings us to the symbol of Nazism. Nazi Germany’s use of it has an interesting history. 

The initial association that the symbol seems to have had was that of extreme nationalism, but not necessarily associated with the Nazi Party. In the 1800s, countries around Germany were growing much larger, forming empires; yet Germany was not a unified country until 1871. 

To counter the feeling of vulnerability and the stigma of being such a new unified country, German nationalists in the mid-nineteenth century began to use the swastika, because it had ancient Aryan/Indian origins, to represent a long Germanic/Aryan history. By the end of the nineteenth century, the swastika could be found prominently displayed on nationalist German periodicals. 

In the beginning of the twentieth century, the swastika was a common symbol of German nationalism and could be found in a multitude of places. 

The emblem of the Thule Society, a German occultist and “völkish” group in Munich, named after a mythical northern country from Greek legend, was a swastika as seen pictured in the image on the left. 

By 1912, the swastika was seen in use by many “völkish” groups, and the “völkish” thought began to take on an anti-Semitic cast. 

It was popular enough that the firm of Ecklöh began manufacturing badges, tie pins, buckles, and other such artifacts incorporating the device to be sold to German citizens to display their honor and loyalty to Germany.

It was revived dramatically by Hitler when he made it the national emblem of Nazi Germany. He believed that this ancient Aryan sign would bring prosperity and victory. 

On August 7, 1920, at the Salzburg Congress, the swastika encircled against a solid colored backdrop became the official emblem of the Nazi Party. 

In Mein Kampf, Hitler described the Nazis’ new flag: "In red we see the social idea of the movement, in white the nationalistic idea, in the swastika the mission of the struggle for the victory of the Aryan man, and which as such always has been and always will be anti-Semitic.” 

According to historians, there are two ways of examining the swastika and its history as a symbol, by viewing the meanings of its two variations -- the clockwise, or otherwise Nazi version of the swastika means hate and death, while the counter-clockwise version, or otherwise ancient multi-cultured symbol, means life and good-luck. 

It really isn't all that simple though. You just can't use a swastika say on your vehicle's bumper or post one on the front stoop of your brownstone, slap one on the side of your bike helmet,  or tattoo one on your arm thinking people are going to interpret it as a symbol of ancient meaning, i.e., of luck and prosperity. The swastika as a symbol is seriously tainted. Big time. 

As an educator and artist, I certainly understand the need for educating and informing others as to its ancient meaning in an attempt to explain why the swastika, in a variety of forms exists in architecture, art, clothing, sports teams logos, as in the case of the Canadian ladies hockey team, "The Edmonton Swastikas," pictured above, or on the chest of a Buddhist statue in modern day Tibet, a country known for promoting peace. These are after all, swastikas that pre-date Nazism.

But to use it anew as a contemporary symbol equals nothing less than emotional controversy. With the internet at our fingertips, the swastika rides a mighty big virtual wave as does its potential to  harm. 

Google: "Swastika" and you'll see what I mean. Granted, there are many sites defending its origin as a peaceful symbol and in so many ways trying to convince us it's ok to continue using it, whether it's clock-wise or counter clock-wise. 

The swastika was used in ancient times and it's fine to study its historical context and subsequent meanings but to revive it for the sake of its ancient history, well, I just have to say, in and of itself that's just not a very productive stance. Nor I might add is it a noble cause. Here's why.

There are other sites, in fact thousands upon thousands of them, that do indeed continue to use the swastika - from the Nazi perspective - as an emblem of hate, serving thusly as a continuum of intolerance, anti-semitism, and racism. Neo-Nazism and its own demented history clearly claim the swastika as their own as seen in the two examples posted below. 

Curtis Allgier, a neo-Nazi from Kansas, currently an inmate in Utah has his face tattooed with many swastikas. I actually find it hard to understand how and why any tattoo parlor personnel would grant this guy so much "hate" ink to begin with. Freedom of expression? Maybe he fell asleep on a Sharpie.

Another neo-Nazi, pictured above, from behind, protesting outside the Holocaust Museum in Skokie, IL. For those of you who may not remember, Skokie, once home to thousands of Holocaust survivors, garnered international attention in the 1970s when neo-Nazis threatened to march in the streets.

The swastika in all its twisted nature as a symbol in contemporary culture, is not always for educational or informative purposes for a productive means, but rather to promote fascist ideologies, which as all educated individuals know, inevitably leads to destruction. The swastika today is regarded as a symbol of the destruction of life rather than its affirmation. Symbols are instruments of thought. And thoughts amount to actions, which are always based on intentions.

A building designed unintentionally to look like a swastika from above is tolerable. it doesn't bother me; why should it? The architect's intentions were productive or at least meant to do good. In fact an architect friend of mine said something to the effects that the "swastika" design is more energy efficient allowing for more light to travel through the space(s). 

On the other hand, an image of a swastika scrawled on the inside of a seat on the Long Island Rail Road is non productive. It's harsh. It's offensive. It's passive aggressive. It's violent. It's cowardly. It carries negative and potentially hurtful connotations.  It's just plain wrong. 

It's about as stupid as this tattoo of "Southern Justice." I mean, c'mon, why? This is just going to provoke anger, possibly violence. No one needs to see it. It doesn't do anyone any good. How can anyone really feel this much pride in hating? 

I've been studying the Holocaust for over ten years and have just come around to understanding to a great degree how Germany and occupied countries could become an industrialized unified state sponsored form of hatred, but I still find it hard to understand how an individual has it in them to just be so insensitive and intolerant. To anyone for any reason. 

So why do it? Why choose to get a hangman's noose tattooed on your body; why choose to draw a swastika on a train seat? Why choose to be that insensitive? Why hate? I know, I know it's easier to hate than to express care or tolerance. 

So, what is it? Intentions. It all comes down to intentions. Intentions matter. In almost everything we do, our intentions provide us with a significant component to our own identity. 

The swastika has its own identity and no matter its history, no matter the varying schools of thought surrounding its meaning and potential resurgence as a positive emblem, it will always remain a very graphic reminder of anti-Semitism, hatred and violence. The swastika was doomed since the Nazis adopted it, and I say, may it rest in...uh, er... peace?

Marc Dennis can be reached here.

Creative Footprint: Theridion Grallator

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef.

In 1971, a man named Franklin Loufrani, then 33 years of age, walked into the offices of the French Trademark Authorities and registered the smiley face as his property. 

Imagine trademarking the “smiley face.” But who really owns the rights to something so ubiquitous?

Loufrani openly admits to not having invented the smiley face, he just claims to have recognized its potential. "A prehistoric man probably invented the smiley face in some cave, but I certainly was the first to register it as a trademark,” he says.

The Loufrani family, now inhabitants of a smiley faced kingdom with a company called SmileyWorld, licenses the “smiley face” to other companies to use it on their merchandise. The smiley face, known as "SMILEY®" became the most recognizable icon in the world and for all intents and purposes remains so to this day. 

Over the years, the Smiley Brand has been linked to the early 70's hippie movement, 80's house music, and oddly the London underground scene. In more current times, it has become an Internet symbol as an emoticon, popping up in emails and documents. 

The logo has 96.5% awareness among persons between the ages of 8 and 24. The smiley face is one of the few licensed brands to have exceeded $1,000,000,000.00 in sales. The company roughly makes about $100 million a year. Clearly, the Loufrani family have been smiling all the way to the bank ever since.

I did a bit of research as to how it was that Frank Loufrani, now 63, was able to trademark the smiley face and become a multi-millionaire. The Loufranis, it appears according to a New York Times article, date their association with the smiley face to 1971, when Franklin Loufrani headed a campaign by a newspaper to combat French moroseness.

"The owner of France Soir newspaper wanted to show French people that there was good news," said Franklin Loufrani, a former journalist who was then working as a freelance business consultant at the paper. "So I came up with the idea of putting a smiley face next to happier stories." Several months before the campaign began, Mr. Loufrani registered his hand-drawn version of the smiley face at the French trademark office. 

So I guess it seems that the smiley face was and still is a symbol of happier things, happier times and perhaps happier thoughts. It certainly is the emoticon of all emoticons. There’s something both joyous and oddly suspicious however about the smiley face – no matter where it appears. 

It can be pleasing, stimulating and warm. Conversely it can be unpleasant, scary, and cold or for that matter, creepy. Like the one spray painted on a brick wall in my neighborhood of DUMBO, Brooklyn. 

I for one, like it though. But that's just my opinion. And that's what matters - our opinions of the smiley face. How we view this thing, this smiling face, is what matters. It's different for all of us in different contexts. 

A smiley face may offer a sense of hope while at other times warrant absolute distrust. So what’s up with the smiley face? What’s its universal allure? Why is it ubiquitous with a capital “U?”

Like a new form of commercially oriented brightly colored fungus, the smiley face invades just about everything, from things we own, look at and  use everyday like our computers not to mention popping up literally in any number of random emails. 

They pop up at markets and malls, staring out at us, from dinnerware, sunglasses, tools, kitchenware and appliances to note pads, magnets, buttons, and patterns on our clothing. They adorn the sides of trucks, bumper stickers, flyers, signs, and bags. Yes, bags. But you already know that.

Take the other night for instance. My wife and I ordered take out from a local Chinese restaurant. The bag in which the food was delivered had a big happy smiley face imprinted on its side. We had ordered from this particular restaurant many times before, but here was a bag I hadn’t seen before. It sat on the counter top staring out at us, like the pile of money from the Geico commercial. I think you know what I mean. Aren't we a bit sick of that pile of money? Anyway, I digress. Back to the bag.

There was something oddly encouraging though about opening up the bag with the big smiley face. Even though the smiley face was on the outside of the bag and clearly the food itself could not possibly be happy I still wondered if I was supposed to imagine the food as smiling, as happy. Smiling food I guess is, after all happy food. And who wouldn’t want to eat happy food?

And that’s it – that’s the reason why the smiley face is everywhere. We want it everywhere. We want all this faux type happy stuff surrounding us. We all want to "have a nice day." 

Heck, all of us are guilty at one point or another for making smiley faces in text messages, in an email, or scrawling it on a sticky note left on the refrigerator or on a piece of random paper on the nightstand of your companion’s bedside. We've all said to someone "have a nice day" with a smiley face. 

The smiley face has become a cultural additive, like sugar in coffee. It’s a reminder of happiness – of being happy. And we apparently want signs, symbols and signifiers of happiness in our daily lives. We want to be reminded of all things happy. A simple online search yields millions of smiley face stuff, not to mention many other images related to the smiley face. 

We undoubtedly have the uncanny ability to see the smiley face in other things even when it obviously wasn’t intended. 

I’m sure personnel at NASA smiled when they discovered it on the surface of Mars. 

 

I'm sure the people of Melbourne, Australia, where this photo was taken, smiled when they saw it in the alignment of stars and moon. 

 

Somebody smiled when they came across it in the random form of a closely shaven haircut. Maybe you're smiling too while looking at the photo. We tend to smile along with a smile I guess. Look at this one below. It's a cup of coffee....smiling?

You see, there's something about the smile, and even though it comes in many forms, it has an allure like no other facial expression. You know why? Because we can't figure it out. How about this one? Tell me Jack doesn't have a smile. 

 

See what I mean? It's a smile but it certainly isn't the kind of smile in the coffee cup. It's close but it's worlds apart. Speaking of world's apart, let's have a look at the most natural of all smiley faces, found only on the Hawaiian islands of Oahu, Molokai, Maui, and Hawaii, the amazing spider Theridion Grallator, better known as the Happy Faced Spider, and sometimes referred to as the Smiley Face Spider. 

Some animals merge with their background by the use of just a single color. The polar bear for example merges into the snows of the Arctic and certain species of grasshoppers are also able to merge into their backgrounds. 

 

Theridion Grallator exhibits an array of color patterns on the back of its abdomen. Scientists believe it may have developed its distinctive markings to discourage birds from eating it. 

The many variations of happy-face and smiley face patterns on Theridion Grallator is referred to as polymorphism, otherwise, many forms or morphs, caused by different gene versions carried by the spiders.

The most common color morph is plain yellow, which has no smile, but sometimes a frown. British scientist Dr Geoff Oxford, who studies the spiders, says, "There are various theories as to why the spider has developed the markings it has, one of these that it may be to confuse predators. When a bird or other predator first sees a prey item it has not seen before there is a moment before it decides whether to eat it or not. 

I don’t think the smiling face is enough to put off a bird though, but it would be nice to think so. Not all happy-face spiders have such striking markings, and some are nearly all orange or all blue. I must admit when I turned over the first leaf and saw one it certainly brought a smile to my face!" 

Regardless of the variation in colors all of the happy-face spiders have the same anatomical features and interact in the same ways with their environment and with other organisms. 

In addition they also share the same methods of catching prey and I might add, mating behaviors. In fact they freely mate with one another, regardless of their genetic make up, which come to think of it, maybe gave rise to the happy face markings. Hmm… Well, that's another study altogether. 

The only thing that matters to me now is that I finally understand what I’ve been hearing all my life – that appearances are indeed deceiving. That nothing is, as it appears to be. Not even the smiley face.

Contact Marc Dennis here.

Creative Footprint: The Caddisfly's Palette

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef.

I think it’s fair to say that on a daily basis, for whatever reasons, we tend to overlook many wonderful aspects of the natural world. Likely in our very own backyards.

We often miss out on the rich life of the microcosms in and around regional ecosystems, wherein I think it's also safe to say infinite beauty and mystery resides. Literally and figuratively, at our fingertips.

Photo credit: Charles Lam

With that said, my objective with this post is to address the changing relationship between natural and unnatural phenomena in an effort to distill something otherworldly from within nature’s beneficence. I will attempt to do so by focusing on the behavior of a tiny and mysterious insect known as the caddisfly.

I'm not an entomologist nor do I play one on TV, but in addition to being a full-time painter I’ve always considered myself a part-time naturalist with a more than casual long-standing interest in insects. And since having recently bought a house in Ithaca very close to a creek, I’ve come to respect and admire the caddisfly in an entirely new, fresh and exciting way, of which I'd like to share. 

Photo credit: Bureau of Land and Water Quality, Maine Department of Environmental Protection

I'm hopeful that aside from the many people who fish, who are already very likely aware of the caddisfly, those who are not aware will be intrigued enough with the caddis fly to prompt further exploration and investigation into the microcosms of your region.

What interests me most about caddisflies is something I'm not expecting everyone to wrap their heads around, but like I said I'm only hoping to prompt you to rethink some of what you've come to know and expect and just sit back and relax with my ramblings in order to come to see things from a different perspective. 

That's what life's about isn't it? To see things from a variety of views and perspectives in order to see the total picture - or at least in order to make an educated and well informed decision about something?

 

A side view of a caddisfly larva of the genus Oecetis in its case (it's tiny head, tucked inside can be seen facing left). Photo credit: Ed Hendrycks, Canadian Museum of Nature

Anyway, with that said, I believe caddisflies display a potentially specialized behavioral propensity that from what I can tell lends itself towards creativity. Granted, a relatively unique and perhaps even unknown form of creativity, but creativity nonetheless. See. I told you it wasn't something one could readily wrap their heads around... let me explain.

Caddisflies in their larval stage build cases around their soft bodies by gathering found materials and using silk to bond them together. They use these cases to aid respiration, as camouflage, as ballast to sink, and as a pupal case. 

A front view of a caddisfly larva of the genus Oecetis in its case (it's tiny head, tucked inside can be seen facing directly outward). Photo credit: Ed Hendrycks, Canadian Museum of Nature

A few weeks ago I’d heard about a remote creek located along some back road off Route 13 in Spencer, NY. So, I headed out to find it. After about a half hour’s drive from Ithaca, I arrived at my destination. I pulled over to the side of the road, which seemed to be a rather deserted area, actually kind of like in the middle of nowhere, parked my vehicle along the shoulder and made my way towards the shrub layer.

 

Photo credit: Marc Dennis, ©2009

Carefully maneuvering my way down the sloped muddy embankment, through a thicket of diverse thorny plants and small trees, I came across a clearing of short and high grasses and made my way towards the gurgling and babbling sounds of the creek.

Photo credit: Marc Dennis, ©2009

The water was a greenish brown murky kind of color; and the foliage was a vibrant emerald green fading into a lime green as it receded towards the horizon. Juxtaposed against an awesome shiny metallic blue grey sky, the earth seemed peaceful. It was a good day. I was on a mission to find caddisfly larvae in the shallow cool waters and have a good look at their casings. 

 

Photo credit: Marc Dennis, ©2009

The species inhabiting this creek had casings that were somewhat similar to one another but with subtle variations. It appeared the casings were made primarily of tiny pieces of broken branches and bits of dried plant life. I would soon discover that the word “variations” would be an understatement when it comes to the nature of a caddisfly’s “creative” potential. 

Just as a note for anyone wondering where caddisfly larvae can be found, the caddisfly larvae pictured above were taken from the bottom of the creek, which was about seven inches deep and moved to a more shallow area in order to take clear photos. 

Photo credit: Marc Dennis, ©2009

Caddisfly larvae can be found in shallow to deep waters, depending on a few factors from species to environment. If and when exploring any ecosystem, anticipating picking up and examining any of its creatures, please make sure to put them back into their original environments. I reached into the water and picked up several in order to get a closer look. They remained very still, but after a while began to move, tickling my hand with the slightest of touches, using their tiny legs to adjust their bodies, shifting their positions to and for, steadily moving upwards, clearly intent on escaping, what can only be described as the unfamiliar surface of my palm.

Photo credit: Marc Dennis, ©2009

Their movements were like watching something in slow motion. They clumsily climbed up my palm as I held my hand at a tilt. As they reached the top, as seen here in the photo I turned my hand over very slowly to keep them atop in order for me to have a bit more time to observe their casings and they continued to search for an exit on the top of my hand. I placed them on top of rocks to get a better look.

Photo credit: Marc Dennis, ©2009

It made sense to presume caddisfly larvae casings were constructed of found objects based on the immediate environment in which they inhabited. Upon further investigation it was obvious the material primarily consisted of very well worn tiny broken bits of branches and sticks.

I wondered if the insect would incorporate materials that weren’t necessarily from their immediate surroundings but rather say for example from a different ecosystem altogether. Like what if they came across broken bits of plastic, or tiny bits of well worn glass from a shattered beer bottle or parts of a broken fishing lure? Would they use those things as materials for their casings?

Photo credit: Marc Dennis, ©2009

I also wondered how the caddisfly larva grabbed hold of the objects and secured them to its body. I wondered about its decision making process. Did it snatch floating materials from the water’s surface or scoop up pieces from the creek’s bottom? Did it matter? Was there any method to its actions? Were there reasons as to how and why a caddisfly larva selects and secures materials to form its casings?

I live life with many questions dancing around inside my head. At one point, sometimes when I least expect, one of those questions becomes a thought then an idea and, well, I'm off to the races at that point. The caddisfly casings was one of those questions that danced around inside my head for awhile. 

The casings of the caddisfly intrigue me because I believe somewhere in their behavior is not just creative intent but an innate sensibility towards actual design. 

I’ve always felt that it’s critical to leave room in our lives for creative endeavors if not for any other reason than to inquire, explore, and experiment. To be able to share what we discover whether it makes sense or not is always enjoyable. And whether this is indeed one of those times, well, I’ll let you decide. 

Image: A variety of caddisfly larvae casings. Photo credit: Auburn University

Let me share with you some basic information on the caddisfly before I venture too deeply into the notions of creativity with respect to their casings.

Caddisflies are not flies at all, but a group of small insects closely related to moths and butterflies. 

Caddisflies are also known as sedge-flies or rail flies. Their Phylum is: Arthropoda; their Class is: Insecta; and their Order Trichoptera (from Greek trich, "hair," and ptera, "wings").

Image: Mottled Caddisfly, Hydro psyche. Photo credit: Robin McLeod, BugGuide  

They are usually nocturnal; and their wings are thickly covered with hairs. They are found in a wide variety of habitats such as creeks, streams, rivers, lakes, ponds, spring seeps, and temporary waters. But like I said, I’m not so much interested in the caddisfly adult, but rather in its larvae.

Medium dark-olive sedge, Macronema zebratum, Photo credit: David H. Funk

The caddisfly Larva (plural – larvae) measures up to 20 mm or 0.0787 inches long and are basically worm-like creatures with three pairs of well-developed legs on the first three body segments and hooks on the last one.

 Caddisfly larva out of its casing. Photo credit: CWES Nature Navigator

They live in a wide range of environments from fast flowing streams to freshwater ponds. Some species feed on other insects and even spin silky nets to capture their prey. Some eat the larvae of other caddisfly species, while others eat both living and dead algae and plants, scraping algae from stones or plants, or shred leaf litter. They are also an important food for many fish. 

Caddisfly larva, Drawing credit: Arwin Provonsha

Many classes of aquatic insects, such as caddisflies, midges, craneflies, dobsonflies, alderflies, and many more, are known as "larvae" rather than "nymphs" in their juvenile stages. They have mostly soft bodies rather than hard exoskeletons. As a point of information, just for the record, some species of caddisfly do not form cases. 

And some really interesting information – (I just learned this myself) is that caddisfly larvae are great indicators of shoreline health. If the water is clean, you'll find plenty of caddisflies.

Ok, so at this point, you might be wondering what exactly again does this have to do with Creative Footprint’s Modus Operandi? 

Image: Photo credit: Matthew Johnson

What does it have to do with leaving one’s mark on culture and community, and why am I so focused on the caddisfly larvae as opposed to the adult? And what exactly do I mean when I mention the idea that they have an innate sensibility towards design? 

According to Merriam Webster's Dictionary, "Innate" means "existing in, belonging to, or determined by factors present in an individual from birth." I believe that caddisflies have to some degree (although I don't know to what degree) a form of creative behavior built into their DNA. 

In other words I don't think they create their cases haphazardly, but rather with careful choices and selections with regards to the materials and the manner in which they construct. Caddisflies leave their mark practically in most bodies of water in our region. Quite the inadvertent act of potential guerilla insect art, eh? Ok, ok, that's maybe another topic altogether. Moving on...

Caddisfly larva emerging from its case. Photo credit: Charley Eisenman

The larvae of many species are not only very interesting, as are all living things I suppose, but these little creatures for all intents and purposes as I've alluded to, seem to display what I'd like to refer to as a rather unique behavioral propensity. Succinctly stated, the "propensity" I speak of is their tendency to be creative regarding their innate sense of, well, I guess, for the lack of a better term, "architectural design." They are builders after all. 

Photo credit: Bedwetting in Australia

They use silk to build cases from gravel, twigs, needles, or sand. Their soft bodies are usually covered in a protective silky case. They use the hooks at the end of their abdomen to hold on to their cases. For those species that do not live in cases, they use their hooks instead to cling to the streambed and also to drag themselves backwards to escape from predators.

Photo credit: DK Images

And if up against a wide and varied selection of “debris” these insects make interesting choices. Or do they? You be the judge. Look at the photo below for starters. And think about the placement of the purplish colored stone near its head. 

Photo credit: “heatherkh’s"

This is just one type of casing amongst thousands of styles and designs! There are around 1,270 species of caddis fly in North America and about 7,000 worldwide, and depending on the species, most caddisfly larvae form a wide variety of casings. 

An example of different construction methods are that one species Agrypnia usually builds a spiral case, while the one in the photo below has stacked cylinders, which because of this unique and specialized construction places it in Phryganeidae and its genus is Ptilostomis.

Photo credit: Patrick Alexander

The larvae of many species of caddisfly have what I can only imagine is considered by many entomologists to be a rather unusual albeit specialized form of behavior. And what’s more intriguing is that it is believed that each genus displays an individual aesthetic. Hmm…

I ran into my friend Jason Hamilton at gimme coffee on State Street in Ithaca the other morning and told him about my interest in caddisfly casings. Jason is a professor at Ithaca College in the Department of Biology and Environmental Studies and he too has a penchant for caddisfly casings. Incidentally I'll be interviewing Jason for Creative Footprint as part of my series on the subject of the relationships with nature and art. Jason will be talking about tarantulas and scorpions.

I asked Professor Hamilton what he thought about the idea that maybe, just maybe caddisfly larvae have some sense of design. 

He replied that it was very likely caddisflies do indeed display some sense of design in their building methods. But he emphasized that design for them is not just what something looks like, as in an art sense, but rather more in an architectural sense. 

In other words what the casing feels like as well as what it looks like. The notion of design in this case (no pun intended), is that the caddisfly larva is concerned with its space as well as its appearance. 

Image: Caddisfly pupae. Photo credit: Noah Charney,BugGuide

I wondered then if caddisfly larvae indeed have an aesthetic in addition or opposed to a sense of design. I mean, is there really some semblance of artistry in their actions? Are they cognitive of their choice of materials and do they actually select "debris" in accordance to their sense of taste?

Photo credit: Roy Larimer at Visionary Digital

Granted it’s not the kind of taste needed to appreciate art, say like when we look at a drawing, or quilt, or fine furniture or sculpture, but rather, there is - at least from what I can tell, a component of creative decision making involved in the "taste" of a particular caddisfly.

Case of caddis fly larva, species: Limnephilus. Photo credit: University of Glasgow

Creative decision making involves choices. The caddisfly larvae select "debris" to make their casings and thus in turn apply a kind of design in order to construct what is clearly both a protective sheath as well as a means by which to camouflage themselves in order to catch prey. 

In both instances they make choices and decide which materials to use and where. But the question is for what purpose? Is it solely objective? Does their having choices and consequent decision making processes have an impact on their behavior?  

It seems relatively simple but I believe caddis flies are aware of their environment, including the colors, sounds, smells, etc and makes decisions based on many combinations of factors. The casings are the products of a thoughtful process.  Sort of like making art after all. Like a quilt. Or even like a drawing, a sculpture. Or creating a garden. 

Caddisfly larva - Pycnopsyche lepida. Photo credit: Tom Murray, BugGuide

The casing in the photo above is mostly made up of small stones, while the back end is made up of plant material. Might there be a need for this or is this simply a matter of chance as opposed to choice?Again I cannot help but ask couldn't the decisions made by the caddisfly be based on some sense of design? Let’s look at a few more.  

Photo credit: Government of New South Wales, Australia

Photo credit: Tom Murray, BugGuide

Photo credit: Mike Dunn

In the photo below you can see that some casings are incredibly intricate, appearing as if it’s actually a mistake on the part of the caddisfly. The larva has chosen to use a variety of grasses, stems, sticks and other assorted unidentifiable debris. Why is that? Why so diverse? Why make so many choices? Do you think its immediate environment played a role? How cognizant is a caddis fly of its environment, of the colors, shapes, etc that it affects its choice of materials and mode of construction?

Photo credit: Burning Silo

I'm not the only one interested in the exploration of the potentialities of creative behavior in the caddisfly larvae, In fact not by a long shot. In the spring of 2007, while reading Issue No. 25 of Cabinet magazine, I came across an interesting article about caddisfly larvae and their association to art. 

Cabinet, as stated on their website, “is an award-winning quarterly magazine of art and culture that confounds expectations of what is typically meant by the words "art," "culture," and sometimes even "magazine." 

In my estimation it is one of the finest art-related and consciously imaginative publications around. And I’m proud to say Cabinet’s editorial offices were once based in my Brooklyn neighborhood of “D.U.M.B.O.” 

I will present the article in its entirety, and ask that you bear with the fact that some of the general information about caddisflies will be repeated in some form or another in the article. 

My objective in sharing the Cabinet article is that with the combination of my lay-person's inquiry and the article you will be afforded an opportunity to ponder on the underlying notions of art, artifice, invention, and creativity. 

Here is the Cabinet article:

Issue 25 Spring 2007

Trichopterae

Hubert Duprat  

Duprat’s aquatic caddis fly larvae, with cases incorporating gold, opal, and turquoise, among other materials. Photos Jean-Luc Fournier. Credit Art: concept, Paris, and Zero Gallery, Milan.

The images above illustrate the results of an unusual artistic collaboration between the French artist Hubert Duprat and a group of caddis fly larvae.

A small winged insect belonging to the order Trichoptera and closely related to the butterfly, caddis flies live near streams and ponds and produce aquatic larvae that protect their developing bodies by manufacturing sheaths, or cases, spun from silk and incorporating substances—grains of sand, particles of mineral or plant material, bits of fish bone or crustacean shell—readily available in their benthic ecosystem. The larvae are remarkably adaptable: if other suitable materials are introduced into their environment, they will often incorporate those as well.

Duprat, who was born in 1957, began working with caddis fly larvae in the early 1980s. An avid naturalist since childhood, he was aware of the caddis fly in its role as a favored bait for trout fishermen, but his idea for the project depicted here began, he has said, after observing prospectors panning for gold in the Ariège River in southwestern France.

After collecting the larvae from their normal environments, he relocates them to his studio where he gently removes their own natural cases and then places them in aquaria that he fills with alternative materials from which they can begin to recreate their protective sheaths. 

He began with only gold spangles but has since also added the kinds of semi-precious and precious stones (including turquoise, opals, lapis lazuli and coral, as well as pearls, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds) seen here.

The insects do not always incorporate all the available materials into their case designs, and certain larvae, Duprat notes, seem to have better facility with some materials than with others.

Additionally, cases built by one insect and then discarded when it evolves into its fly state are sometimes recovered by other larvae, who may repurpose it by adding to or altering its size and form. 

Duprat traces his work with the caddis fly larvae back to pioneering nineteenth-century entomologists such as François-Jules Pictet and Jean-Henri Fabre, who both conducted experiments in which structure-building insects were given alternative, non-indigenous materials.

Seen within the context of the artist’s work—a practice that has often addressed aspects of mimesis in the realms of both nature and facture through his conceptual sculptural activities—the caddis fly larvae project is an example of Duprat’s ongoing interest in productive collisions between organic forms and technologized materials.

Yet the work also provokes broader philosophical questions regarding behavior and intent, one that was summarized particularly astutely by the critic and philosopher Christian Besson, in a conversation with the artist conducted in the late 1990s:

Kant’s distinction between works of art and those of nature leaves us in a quandary. The production of the artifact within nature herself poses a problem—even more so when an aesthetic aspect is involved.

Whether the insect is a craftsperson or whether, more generally, nature is a creator of forms, the consideration, within nature, of an aesthetic dimension is the stumbling block of science.  Your activity as an artist, upsetting the ordinary ethology of the insect, seems to me to be the same thing as introducing a noise, complicating its umwelt and producing a response.

In your diversion of the caddis worm’s behavior, in your artistic manipulation, the effect is twofold. From a biological viewpoint, a random event triggers self-organization. From a human viewpoint, the experimenter’s intent produces this effect. …

Is the caddis worm’s precious case the work of the insect or the work of the artist? This is not the right question. The contradiction can be resolved by the differing viewpoints.

According to the first view, the caddis worm owed nothing to the artist (who is simply the author of one noise among the thousands of other noises in its environment).

According to the second view, the caddis worm is merely the executor of the artist’s project. The artistic statement plays on the confusion of the two levels by overlaying the two perspectives. The aesthetic result (at once natural and artistic) turns the caddis worm’s case—which is more than an assisted ready-made or a diversion—into a doubly exposed object… ¹ 

— Jeffrey Kastner

 1. Christian Besson in conversation with Hubert Duprat, from “The Wonderful Caddis Worm: Sculptural Work in Collaboration with Trichoptera,” translated by Simon Pleasance, in Leonardo, vol. 31, no. 3, June-July 1998.

Let's see... how shall I wrap this article up? Admittedly it's not as eloquent as one of my science writer idols, Natalie Angier may have approached the subject, but with all that can be said and written about this small creature I suppose like any interest, whether peripheral or central to our lives it's sort of like traveling to Santa Fe. 

Whenever I'm in Santa Fe, a charming city known for its art, I sometimes discover that my being there has a similar parallel with an online search. Santa Fe is the kind of "art" destination where it's hard to put a finger on its aesthetic. Good, bad, indifferent, regional, interesting, uninteresting? Who knows. It's really just a matter of taste. 

Before uploading this entry and meeting my midnight deadline, I did one last Google search: "caddisfly jewelry."  I found this site - dedicated to the making of caddisfly jewelry. 

I can already see the Navajo and Cochiti Pueblo Indians selling their wares in the square, the New Mexico sun on my face, and hear the coyotes in the night sky. 

Don't get me wrong, I dig Santa Fe. It's one of my favorite little cities. I guess that's so because visiting Santa Fe is a test of one's priorities. 

I guess that's the case with visiting any place. Even places online. Like blogs. Or websies on caddisfly jewelry. It's always a matter of knowing how to or at least being prepared to edit. It's about steadily and carefully but enthusiastically finding out what interests us and what does not. 

Image: Photo credit: John Penisten

And there's no doubt, it's always a matter of taste. Yes, taste. Like looking at art. Like that "cup of tea" quote, you know the one, when two people don't share similar tastes or interests, you might hear (in the form of an explanation): "well, it may not be his/her 'cup of tea.'" Caddisflies and tea anyone?

In summation, I'd just like to say - and I say this not in any pedantic way, but rather in a friendly suggestive almost child-like way, like as if I were ten years old again (see photo of me on left), that it doesn’t take a lot of work on our part to make an effort to appreciate the natural world even in its tiniest forms. 

Like I said it's as close in proximity as our own  backyards. Or to take the time to ponder on the significance of creativity, whether displayed by an insect or a human. 

Time, yes time. It does take time. It seems everything is about time. My time spent investigating caddisflies is time I'll never get back. But I'm fine with that. 

Because rest assured  - and anyone who embraces nature even in its tiniest forms, knows what I'm talking about, its always time well spent. 

After all, creativity is for all intents and purposes an essential aspect of life – for all life, or so it seems. 

Marc Dennis can be reached here.

Creative Footprint: Artist and Professor David Higgins

"Creative Footprint" encompasses a series of dialogues with creative people and like-minded art enthusiasts exploring and examining the ways in which we leave our mark on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist and professor at Elmira College.

My Guest: David Higgins

Profession: Artist and professor

Current Residence: Corning, NY

Education: SUNY, Binghamton, B.A., 1983 and Louisiana State University, LA, M.F.A., 1988

Visit David's gallery's website here

Marc: Hey Dave, first off, thanks for letting me interview you. I'm looking forward to an interesting exchange; I expect nothing less from you; and I'm sure those who know you would agree! Let's start with the most basic stuff. Where were you born, where did you grow up and how is it that you are part of the upstate New York region?

Dave: I was born in Brooklyn, in Bay Ridge, but my parents moved upstate when I was two. I’m not a city boy at all; I’m scared to take the subway by myself! My folks worked their way up the Hudson, with stops in Ossining and Croton, until we hit Deposit, where I grew up. 

Deposit is Appalachia; I went to school with dirty little kids who had 19^th-Century diseases like pellagra and scabies. In 1972, when I was ten, we moved to Elmira, my mother’s hometown—just in time for the Flood (Hurricane Agnes). Not long after, we limped back to Binghamton. That’s where I graduated from high school, and that’s where they’ll bury me.

Binghamton High School, Binghamton, NY

Marc: “Buried in Binghamton,” sounds like a 1950’s murder mystery. Could be a title for one of your paintings. Just out of curiosity, why be buried in Binghamton? Why not be cremated? Do you have a will? What if you were to die suddenly? Sorry for getting cryptic but from conversations I've had with friends, it seems many of us, in particular artists and other creative individuals, have not given their sudden demise any thought. Have you? Who would get your art? 

Dave: There’s a cemetery in Binghamton where we used to drink beer as teenagers. It was full of funny Eastern European names on the tombstones, like “Krna” and “Stanko.” I might want to be buried there, and have someone pour a Genny Cream Ale on my grave. 

But come to think of it, I’d prefer to be cremated! I’ve watched a few episodes of “Six Feet Under” and gotten the willies, especially about embalming. I think all my paintings will eventually go to my three little nieces. Luckily, they’re all big fans of Uncle Dave.

Marc: That’s great you’ll be taking care of your nieces, an excellent choice I’m sure. I’ve known you now for over eight years; I’m familiar with you as both a very skilled painter, in fact one of the best painters in the entire region, and a professor. With that said, how do you manage your life in terms of making art, teaching and doing other things? Do you have a work schedule where you put aside time just to make your art? How do you make time? Explain a bit about your work ethic. 

Dave: One of the great things about teaching is that I have lots of free time; I just wish I’d make better use of it. My house is a dump, my office is a mess, I owe a hundred dollars in library fines, and my life is sloppy and structure-less. I paint when I feel like it, which is much less often than one might think. I couldn’t adhere to a schedule to save my life. I’m a streak painter; when things are going well, I ride the vibe for as long as I can, but like the weather it’s all changeable.

Marc: Explain to our readers a bit about the various approaches you have towards making art, such as your paintings and shadow boxes? And how do they relate?

Dave: It’s been said much better by other people, but I like playing God over my own little world. That especially applies to the shadowboxes, because they are three-dimensional “mini mundi” within four little walls. They have the added kick of their unpredictability; I never know what they’re really going to look like until I actually glue the pieces in place. I choose subject matter that I find entertaining, like bugs, iron lungs, airplanes, pimps, hairy moles, pit bulls, Dragula and the Munster Koach, Oscar Gamble. I just paint to amuse myself.

David Higgins, "Handy Shop," 2006, oil on Masonite, 18 x 24 inches

Marc: What is the best or the most interesting compliment anyone has ever paid to you regarding your artwork?

Dave: At a show featuring some of my shadowboxes, a little kid was camped out in front of “A Partridge in a Pear Tree,” looking at it pretty intently. One of my friends talked to him a little bit; it turned out he was “waiting for it to move.” He thought it was mechanically animated, like ducks in a shooting gallery, and was temporarily at rest. It contained a sense of possibility or potential that the kid picked up on.

Marc: How would you rate your experience as an artist in our region thus far? And what do you think of the art scene?

Dave: I’m lucky I live in Corning; it truly is one of the “best art towns in America,” as the magazine says. Ithaca is close by, too. Elmira is a nice old river town, but it’s really hurting, like all of upstate New York. I horribly miss what John O’Hern was able to do with the Arnot Art Museum in Elmira, and in particular with the “Re-Presenting Representation” shows. Financial reality reared its ugly head.

 

Arnot Art Museum, Elmira, NY

Some artists in Binghamton are trying mightily to cultivate a rep for art, but I’m a cynic about that because I grew up there, and I really see it as the armpit of the western world. I hate going back there. As far as support, I’ve gotten all that I deserve, which is a way of saying that I’m lazy and take a lot for granted. The ARTS of the Southern Finger Lakes in Corning is a great resource, and I would like to see the Community Arts building in Elmira thrive and prosper.

Marc: When did you first want to be an artist, or when did you first realize you were one?

Dave: I was about seven years old. My older brother got the issue of Spider-Man where the Green Goblin throws Gwen off the George Washington Bridge. It was scary and horrifying in a good way, like the haunted house ride they used to have at Eldridge Park. 

Marc: Let's talk about childhood. Your art has many wonderfully weird manifestations, do you reference your own childhood experiences for ideas?

Dave: I’m so inspired by kid stuff and my own childhood that I worry people will call my work “infantile.” My earliest memory is of an amusement park ride at Playland in Westchester County. There was a water boat tunnel ride—I’ve since learned it was called “The Old Mill”—and I remember as we paddled past, a little mechanical owl swiveled its head to follow us. 

That still seems a pretty rich experience. Some of the biggest influences on my work are Maurice Sendak’s “Higglety Pigglety Pop,” Arnold Roth’s “Pick a Peck of Puzzles,” Viewmasters 3-D reels, Jack Kirby comics, Big Daddy Ed Roth… all kid stuff. I respect and admire the canon, but Rat Fink owns a bigger chunk of my psyche than Philip Guston or Francis Bacon.

Marc: Cool story about the mechanical owl! Great image. Jack Kirby by the way is one of my artistic idols too. If you like Ratfink and all that kind of creepy infantile high art stuff, you’d probably dig “Juxtapoz” magazine. Ratfink is arguably a part of Americana art history; so let me ask you - how important is your knowledge of art history with regards to making your own work? 

Dave: I tell my students that I learned more about art in art history than I ever learned in art studio. On the first day of my first art history class at SUNY-Binghamton, the teacher, Penelope Mayo showed us “Las Meninas” by Velasquez, and took it through its paces. Wow! Thereafter, I was lucky enough to take many great art history classes with many great teachers. The more esoteric, the better, like Byzantine art.

Marc: Do you sometimes gather inspiration from images that come to you say in your dreams or while daydreaming?

Dave: I have a hard time remembering my dreams, but I’m a big believer in chance and serendipity. My best ideas come in bunches, and usually when I’m on a long drive, which is a form of daydreaming.

Marc: Yeah I think a lot of ideas come to us when we drive. Are you more creative during a particular time of day, or day of the week, or month or season, and why do you think this is the case?

 

Dave: I think I’m more creative in the summer, because I get out more. I love bugs, and they’re abundant then. I visit lots of towns, cities, and museums. I visited my brother in Baltimore last summer and got to see the American Visionary Art Museum.

Marc: Do you paint based on emotions or is it more or less an intellectual approach for you? In other words do you view it as a job or is it more of a cathartic experience?

Dave: Though my style looks fussy and uptight, I think I lean more towards the cathartic. It’s less a matter of emotion than surfing on groovy art vibes— puttering about until that good-luck streak takes over and my paintings paint themselves.

Marc: What do you want people to walk away with when they experience your work?

Dave: It’s always good if they laugh, no matter what the reason.

Marc: In light of a world saturated with billions of online images and the ever increasing popularity of online videos, bombarding us, where does high art fit in? In other words, where do traditional means of looking at art, such as paintings and sculpture for example, fit in? Do you think we’re losing future generations as audiences for traditional high art, such as paintings and sculpture?

Dave: It’s curious to me that my students, all of whom have grown up in front of a computer, very definitely place traditional drawing and painting at the top of the art pecking order. They’ll see a dazzling digital image and be dismissive about it, as if to say, “aw, it’s only Photoshop.” 

Even on Deviant Art, their favorite website, they give traditional art more currency than the razzle-dazzle stuff, as if using technology is tainted somehow. They use gadgets like cellphones to take pictures of oil paintings they’re working on, and they use Photoshop to sort out color and compositional issues, and not so much as an end in itself.

Marc: What are your thoughts and feelings on the artist as social realist, an individual focused on making art mainly devoted to depicting the social concerns and issues of the working class and by virtue more or less rejecting high art idealism and the artist’s ego? Do you think we as artists are somewhat responsible for informing the public of environmental issues and other concerns?

Dave: I think that social realism is the motherlode of worthy art ideas, absolutely.  I’m an Adbuster guy. Granted, there’s a lot of pro-social art that has aged very badly over the last 50 years, but even the clinkers have a kitsch value that is priceless. Mierle Laderman Ukeles, the NYC sanitation artist, came to my college when I was 18 and I fell in love with her; I was in awe of the possibilities she represented.

David Higgins, "Billboard, Louisiana," 2006, oil on wood, 12 x 16 inches

Marc: If you had not chosen to be an artist what career would you have pursued?

Dave: Graphic Design. I worked for a few years as a commercial artist; my favorite job was designing labels and cartons for McCulloch chainsaws, and I loved it. I was always a minion and not a principal, though, because I relate to people with difficulty. I am definitely not a “born teacher,” and wouldn’t have gone into it unless it was so closely tied to being a painter.

Marc: How would you define success for an artist?

Dave: Peace of mind. I’m kind of self-contained, to the point where I’m indifferent about selling and exhibiting; I feel no pressure there, thanks to a salaried job. I skip my own openings when I can, and I don’t solicit much feedback from people, partly because I have Avoidant Personality Disorder.  Success is when I paint something and like it, and my siblings fight over who gets to keep it. My real audience are my brothers and sisters, because they grew up just as weird as me. 

David Higgins, "Garage with Hostas," 2008, oil on wood, 36 x 50 inches (overall)

Marc: I never met any artist who wanted to skip their own opening till I met you. I also wasn’t aware of Avoidant Personality Disorder until I met you. When did you first realize you had APD? Who told you? Does being imaginative enable you to deal with APD better? And when you go to openings and receptions is there something you do in advance to prepare? And how do you deal with it in terms of being a professor?

Dave: I was that little kid who stood in a corner of the playground at recess and hoped nobody else would come around. I was also that kid who hid in the library during lunch period so I wouldn’t have to interact with anybody. I knew something was wrong with me but I didn’t have a name for it.

Then, last year, I was attending a college picnic and I went to hang around the barbecue grill so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. One of my colleagues was already there and it turned out he was avoiding people, too. He sized me up pretty quickly and explained what APD was because he had it, also, and all of a sudden my hermit tendencies made perfect sense. 

 

David Higgins, "Yoko Ono at Night," 2007, oil on wood, 9 x 12 inches

Part of the problem is a terrible fear of sounding like an idiot, so I try especially to avoid those rapier-wit type people who don’t suffer fools gladly; they can smell me coming a mile away. When it comes to the classroom, I’m really good at faking it. When the stakes really matter, I can appear quite the life of the party, but only as a last resort, and that’s probably why I hate openings. You are the first person to suggest a link between that sort of behavior and personal creativity, and that suddenly makes tremendous sense.

Marc: Well, I can only hope something positive comes of my having suggested that link. Let's talk about the positive aspects of the Southern Tier; what regional exhibits have had the most influential effect on you? And why?

Dave: Group shows and biennials, definitely. I’m lucky to be reasonably close to the MAG in Rochester and the Schweinfurth in Auburn. The Roberson Museum in Binghamton has good shows; the Linda Sokolowski show there last year was great. The Corning Museum of Glass is great. But the most influential by far were those John O’Hern “Representing Representation” shows at the Arnot.

Marc: What art have you purchased in the past few years?

Dave: Small landscapes, especially by Jim Ramsdell from Greene, NY. He is a humble pretty-pictures painter but he has a real eye; I wish we could collaborate. Better yet, I wish I was rich and could hire Jim to paint my pictures for me.

James Ramsdell, "Gently Flowing," 2006, oil on canvas, 20 x 24 inches

Marc: What was your most recent pleasurable visual upstate New York experience?

Dave: Snow mounds! For several years, I’ve been taking digital snaps of the grossest heaps of dirty snow that I can find. I think there’s an art project in there somewhere. As I drove up to my office on the campus of corning Community College I saw some massively spectacular beauties.

Marc: If you could meet any artist, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Dave: Now that is a toughie. Maybe that would be Henry Darger, who did The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, as long as I could make him disappear if he got too creepy.  

 

Marc: What would you do, would you invite him to a meal or would you hang in his studio?

Dave: I think I’d hang in his studio and make sure I always had an escape route.

Marc: Is there any hidden, suppressed or secret goal or dream in your life, whether creative or otherwise, you’d like to pursue and accomplish?

Dave: I want to go to Antarctica and catch a bug. I’ve read so many books on Antarctica and polar exploration that I’m practically an expert. There are actually insects down there, mostly springtails, but they have found mites who make their own anti-freeze as far south as 85 degrees, 90 degrees being the South Pole. That is truly scary.

Marc: Wow, weird, I’ve always wanted to go to Antarctica too! I even did some research on a governmental grant program. I hope you get the chance to go. Alright Dave my man, we gotta wrap this up, thanks a lot for your time and company - - always a treat! 

Marc Dennis can be reached here.

Creative Footprint: Improvisational performing artist, writer, and founder of Alligator Mouth Improv Rhonda Morton

"Creative Footprint" encompasses a series of dialogues with creative people and like-minded art enthusiasts exploring and examining the ways in which we leave our mark on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist and professor at Elmira College.

My guest: Rhonda Morton

Profession: Improvisational performing artist, writer, facilitator

Current Residence: Corning, NY

Education/Training: BA in English and Philosophy from Muskingum College, 1980, and lots and lots of classes, workshops, certification programs in various forms of improvisational performance

Visit Rhonda's website here

Marc: Hi Rhonda, thanks a lot for taking the time to be a part of my project. Ok basic stuff first -- Where were you born, where did you grow up and how did you arrive in the region and ultimately decide to stay in upstate New York?

Rhonda: I was born in Oakland, CA, and lived in Japan, San Diego, Maryland, Florida, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Ohio. I was a Navy brat and lived in more houses than I was years old by the time I was 20. I never went to the same school for more than a year until high school. 

While in college, I got married at 20, and moved to the Corning area the day after graduation to caretake an old farmhouse in Hornby, sight unseen. After a couple of years, my husband at the time – I’ve been divorced for 16 years, and I had saved enough to buy a house just off the river between Corning and Big Flats. Within another year or so, my son was born, and three years later, my daughter. And suddenly I had roots for the first time in my life. 

Marc: Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. My family moved around a lot too during my childhood and it’s a great feeling to finally have a sense of place. It’s also necessary to have good friends.

Rhonda: I made friends who are more like siblings than my real brother and sister. I love the fact that I have deep connections that go back decades with so many people in this small town. I feel like I’ve been able to make a difference, to create community. That’s why I initially stayed. 

Marc: Again, I know what you mean – community is critical. Community I believe is everything; it’s about connecting the dots – kind of why I created this interview project. How did all the changes you speak of affect your creative process?

Rhonda: At the same time, moving so many times in my childhood, I learned to reinvent myself over and over, and I developed the need for change and challenge. When my kids were little, I remember buying a t-shirt that said, “I don’t need a vacation, I need an adventure.” This community – of Corning, as conservative as one might imagine it would be, has allowed me to continue that process of reinvention, by accepting, and even embracing each iteration. 

  Peter Chwazik / photo: Jeff Richards / Star Gazette

But also, the year my youngest went to college, I spent five weeks in Berkeley, CA, and have been spending some part of every winter there for the past five years. I need that big infusion of adventure, the rich variety of ideas and expansive inventiveness offered by a big liberal artistic city, and the opportunity to develop my craft in a place that is arguably the Mecca of improvisation in the US. If I hadn't fallen in love with my soul mate and creative partner, Peter Chwazik, three years ago in Corning, I might have moved to California fulltime by now. Or if we hadn’t been able to find the other current members of the ensemble, we might have moved there together. But so far, we’re still making it work in Corning!

Marc: Nice. Let’s talk about your collaborative project, "Alligator Mouth Improv." I’m familiar with it and I gotta tell ya, it’s a brilliant combination of prose, performance and art. For those who aren’t familiar, please explain what it is you do and why?

Rhonda: Alligator Mouth Improv is a multi-disciplinary improvisational ensemble I created in 2005.  It is comprised of three other performers: Peter Chwazik, Amber Espar, and Sean Lukasik. Drawing on theater, movement, vocals, music, storytelling, and video, and using audience stories, themes and ideas as inspiration, we offer one-of-a-kind performances created in the moment. 

When we go out on stage, we know the set of guidelines, or “forms,” within which the improvisation will take place, but other than that, everything is generated right there, often from a word called to us just as the piece starts that acts as our jumping-off place. We reach inside ourselves to instantly bring out a sound, a movement, a word, and where we take it can range from profoundly moving to laugh-out-loud funny

Marc: You mentioned the word “stage;” is this a general term for a place to perform, say like a sidewalk, or living room, etc, or do you actually need a stage?

Rhonda: We have a passion for performing in non-arts venues where passersby can serendipitously participate in an art experience. For instance, in 2009, we will open the “Performance Deli: Art Made to Order” in an empty storefront location in Corning for a week or a month, depending on the outcome of some grant applications currently being reviewed. Every day we will “open for business” and anyone will be able to walk in off the street and order an instant performance from a menu of “forms.” This structure breaks down the traditional rarified roles of performer and audience member, and opens untold opportunities for both.

Marc: That sounds like a project with an impact. How cool to involve those who wake up on that particular morning totally unsuspecting of being in a performance piece.

Rhonda: We are committed to doing residencies in educational and community settings where we can have a larger impact over time too. In 2007, we did a residency with the students at Corning Community College. We took kids who had maybe never even been on a stage before, and we taught them the skills of improvisation. Then we produced a four-day run where the professionals from AMI performed alongside the students. It was educational for all of us. 

Rhonda: And we are going to do a similar project with kids from the Corning-Painted Post School District this summer. We also help work groups improve their organizations through the power of improvisation and the expressive arts. What we do is like a ropes course without the bugs. Clients have ranged from Corning Incorporated to the Trust Department of Chemung Canal Trust Company to Planned Parenthood of the Southern Finger Lakes.

Marc: I saw Alligator Mouth Improv at the Planned Parenthood of the Southern Finger Lakes 2008 Gala and was very impressed. Your performance was passionate, almost kind of electric. It was a good fit too I thought with the large and diversified audience of whom I can only presume may never have seen such a performance piece quite like it. Why do you do what you do? Why are you part of an improvisational group?

Rhonda: Why do we do this? Well, improvisation as an art form is not about showing what you can do, it's about revealing your truth in each unfolding moment. An improvised performance, because of it inherent risk and deep levels of authenticity, provides an immediacy and intimacy that are extremely rewarding for the performers and engaging for an audience. It connects us all to each other. We're not merely entertainers; we seek some level of enlightenment to come from what we do. 

We want “the divine” to show up at some point—that moment where we transcend ourselves and become a conduit for something greater to come through us and into the audience and then back around again. Our motto is, “Come with no expectations. Leave with a greater sense of what’s possible.” That’s what we are always striving for. 

Marc: I like that motto -- no expectations, in a sense equals greater possibilities. And I guess from possibilities comes ideas. How do you choose which ideas to pursue? Do you have regular meetings with your collaborators to discuss your ideas?

Rhonda: As artistic director, my vision is central to all our productions, and I pretty much decide which thematic ideas to pursue in a project or performance. I lay out who will be in what pieces, and the sequence of the pieces. However, within that overarching theme, I crave the juiciness that comes from collaboration. When we are creating in the moment together, there’s this collective consciousness that prevails over any of our individual ideas. 

Also, most new forms are developed and refined together based on the group consensus of what works best. It’s usually pretty obvious because it just clicks when it’s right. Or we watch ourselves on videotape and see where a form needs to be adjusted to work better from the audience’s perspective. We also work with a dramaturge to provide feedback from that outside eye. And because we’re all experiential learners, we usually find our way by doing rather than discussing. 

Answering the question from a more practical perspective, yes, we do meet regularly. The three of us who live in Corning rehearse weekly and also just hang out socially fairly regularly. Then when our out-of-towner comes in, we all make space in our calendars to get into the studio for long stretches every day. That’s heaven for all of us.

Marc: “Heaven for all of us,” that’s a very telling way of putting it, of commenting on what it’s like being together and rehearsing. Making art, such as painting, is a very isolating experience, what's it like being part of a collaborative improvisational project? Do you think there are unconscious reasons why you're part of a collaborative as opposed say to being a painter or writer?

 

Rhonda: I am, at heart, a loner. I love and crave alone time and solitude feeds my creative process. Even though I have a collective to work with, I still spend hours in the studio all by myself just messing around and seeing what comes. I started my creative career as a poet, then just kept adding elements to my readings like singing, moving, theatrical characters and improvisation. 

In a way, the other performers are like another element—they are a way to make my individual work more interesting for me and stronger as a performance.  And the adage about being greater than the sum of our parts definitely applies here – I simply can’t do three-part harmony all by myself. I can’t do Contact Improv alone. I can’t create one-sided dialogue. It would be like a painter moving his/her brush against the air—no canvas, no painting, no art.

Marc: What’s “Contact Improv?”

Rhonda: Contact Improvisation is a form of dance where the main emphasis is on the point of contact between two or more bodies.  It’s a dance of physics—fulcrums, levers, weight exchanges, lifts, momentum and inertia. It’s like the dancers are both the jungle gym and the kids playing on it. And to me, it’s like a movement meditation because you have to be totally present in the moment, ready for your partner(s) to do anything. It is hard to explain properly, but we have two videos on the website of Contact Improv pieces, and a segment from a talkback session where we talk about Contact Improv’s impact on an audience. It is very intimate and requires a huge amount of trust. 

Insomuch as performers are always providing a vicarious experience for the audience, sometimes people find it a little scary to watch. People can go to my site and watch "Risking Reciprocity” for a pure instance of Contact Improv, or “Connective Conversation” for a form we created that combines CI with spoken word. And you can hear what the audience and performers had to say about it in the “Connective Conversation Talkback.”

 

Marc: What is your biggest challenge personally as it pertains to being part of a collaborative improvisational project?

Rhonda: Well, until last fall, I would have had to say that not having a shared vision of what we could be together would have been the biggest challenge. I’ve been working for five years without that because the particular individuals I had in the ensemble in the past just weren’t ready, willing or able to sign on to what I wanted us to be. But with this particular foursome, I’m much closer to that.  Once you have a clear and shared intention, collaboration is a pure joy and totally satisfying.  

Marc: How would you rate your experience as an artist thus far in the upstate region? Do you get the respect you feel you deserve? Do you want more from your audiences? And if so what would you like to say to address your concerns, if in fact that is the case, and if not we can move on.

Rhonda: I’ve felt very nurtured and respected by those who regularly attend our performances, other artists, and the staff at The Arts of the Southern Finger Lakes. And I’ve been fortunate to receive financial support via the New York Foundation for the Arts and the New York State Council on the Arts—two organizations who fund New York State residents only. I am grateful to our audiences – those who assemble in theatres to see us as well as those who come upon us in non-arts venues. I’m a community artist, interested in how my art can affect individuals, who in turn shape the community. If I didn’t feel like my audience respected me, I’d have to ask: “Is it because I don’t respect my audience? 

Marc: True. Respecting one’s audience is good advice. When did you first want to be an artist, or when did you first realize you were one? What was your training in the arts?

Rhonda: My first memory of creating art is of painting the sidewalk with a Popsicle stick dipped in water. That early experience of riding the edge of immediacy as it evaporates into the next moment epitomizes what draws me to improvisation. But it wasn’t until my early 30s that I began to see myself as an artist; and at that point, I only identified myself as a poet. 

My training in the arts has been quite idiosyncratic. I searched out teachers whenever my curiosity or interest led me to learn something, or I stumbled upon just the right experience at the right time. Sometimes I’d take a class or two, and on a few occasions I dove in and really immersed myself in a discipline or particular philosophy.

Marc: Searching out teachers, stumbling on the right experience and putting yourself in a position for things to happen – sounds like you trust in your intuition and the beauty of chance encounters. You’re like a born performer!

Rhonda: About ten years ago, I took a Voice and Movement class with Bonnie McCubbin that sparked my love of improvisation. I’ve studied vocal improvisation extensively with jazz vocalist and performer extraordinaire Rhiannon. And I became a certified leader of InterPlay, an improvisation-based and body-centered approach to personal and organizational effectiveness practiced around the world. Action Theatre, founded by Ruth Zaporah, is another major influence in my work. Martin Keogh taught me most of what I know about Contact Improvisation. 

And I took classical voice lessons from Sarah Turner Williams at 171 Cedar Arts Center in Corning for years. Now, I learn from working with the ensemble or by myself or with other performers in Berkeley, by just going in the studio and using it like a laboratory to conduct independent studies and experiments.  And Peter, a life-long professional musician, is giving me lessons at the piano—helping me train my ear. And my ongoing discussions with him about performance, improvisation, and the nature and spirit of art-making, feed me immeasurably.

Marc: That’s quite a diversified learning experience! You are by nature a very energized, enthusiastic and passionate individual, eager it seems to want to work most of the time at your craft. What happens when you experience blocks; what are some of the ways you resolve them?

Rhonda: Fatigue and feeling disconnected from the Divine are the biggest sources of creative blocks for me. If I’m well-rested and remember that I’m made of star dust and Consciousness, I’m infinitely generative.

Marc: You’ve mentioned the word “Divine” twice so far. I’m curious as to whether or not the term “Divine” you chose to use has to do with God in the traditional Judeo Christian sense or if it applies to another higher power or state of being. Do you practice a faith and if so does it nurture you creatively?

Rhonda: I was raised a Methodist, which gave me a love of singing in community, but otherwise mostly confused me about the nature of God. I don’t find “God” in churches. Not that it doesn’t exist there, just that I can’t access it in that setting. Instead, I sweat my prayers. I guess I’m part Sufi, part Mystic, part Wolf, and Tree, and Dolphin-Worshipper. 

What do I believe? I believe that there is something I experience as pure Consciousness and Love and it connects me to everything.  It is a clear channel to The Source – no static, no muddiness, nothing murky. Just that clear pure note that sounds and you are unhinged, the space between your molecules expands to fill with love and light, and pure Being. 

Marc: Wow, poetic stuff Rhonda, all at once a grounded and attainable perspective, and also if I may, kind of confusing, actually almost too far out there maybe to grasp, yet I have the funny feeling my readers are understanding what you’re saying on their own terms. After all I suppose we all want that “clear channel” to a “Source.”

Rhonda: Your readers are either nodding and saying, “Yes! Yes! I know what you mean!” or they are tilting their heads in confusion, like I’m speaking in a foreign language, and bending back to whatever tome tells them what God is. So, yes, my faith-practicing is my art-making and vice versa. Art is the way for me.  Letting some force take over the pen, the voice, the body, the story unraveling from my mouth – that’s how I commune with God, that’s how I touch the Divine. 

Mine is a Jazz God – the main melody line is do unto others, be nice, there is no such thing as an enemy, protect the earth, lean into your fears, forgive, love above all else, believe it is possible to walk on water and make good manifest. And then there is the improvising, the moment-to-moment decision-making that keeps me aligned and in integrity with what I value.  I feel I am co-creating my life with God.

Marc: “Be nice” -- that should be everyone’s mantra. Let’s shift gears; what is one of the biggest mistakes you've made as an artist?

Rhonda: I don’t really believe there are mistakes in the creative process – every choice leads to limitless other choices.

Marc: What do you want people to walk away with when they experience your work?

Rhonda: As I mentioned earlier, Alligator Mouth Improv’s motto is “Come with no expectations. Leave with a greater sense of what’s possible.” A corollary to that is “Whatever you believe is possible, is possible. Whatever you believe is impossible, is impossible.” I’m always inviting myself and others to see how we may be limiting ourselves, or to see how a new perspective or a different angle changes everything we thought we knew. Improvisation is all about being an open channel for potential to manifest. 

Marc: I guess one could look at life as one big improvisational experience. How would you define success for an artist in your line of work, as one involved in improvisation?

Rhonda: Working with a talented, committed and passionate group of people on a shared vision of excellence, making a difference in the world, and getting paid for it.

Marc: I agree! Working with talented, committed and passionate like-minded people is indeed critical to success as is making a difference in the world. How do you know you’ve made a difference in the world? Is there a means, say a kind of creative yardstick by which you and your partners are able to measure it? Is there a barometer?

Rhonda Morton and Amber Espar of Alligator Mouth Improv visiting 

Cohen Elementary School in the Elmira Heights School District.

Rhonda: For me, I have already made enough of a difference to die satisfied. I know that I have changed lives, through GirlSmarts, a series of workshops I created to help teenage girls use the arts to understand who they are and what they want from their lives; "Getting Juicy" workshops for adults, the residencies Alligator Mouth has done with college and high school students, and the poetry writing and performing workshops I have offered in the region.

For me, all of these are opportunities to soften the hardened places, put light in the dark, love what we’ve banished to the dungeon, set free whatever wild thing we’ve chained. I remind people that happiness is their birthright, darkness is a place to explore, what is lost can be found, what is found can be set free, it’s okay to ask for what you want, forgive yourself for EVERYTHING, and get on with being useful in the world. 

Of course, all of that also under-girds our performances, and it is always my hope that people take that away from seeing Alligator Mouth Improv. But I don’t often get to see the transformation, the change in trajectory of a person’s life. But in the longer-term teaching and residency end of what I do and what Alligator Mouth does, the change is visible and palpable, and so very rewarding.

Marc: Wow, beautiful response – you are full of positive energy! Allow me to take advantage of all this positive energy and toss in the subject of today’s economy. You answered a previous question by equating success to some extent with “getting paid for it,” and with that, I’d like to talk about the volatile nature of our current economy and its relationship or interconnectedness to art and related creative endeavors. How has the economy affected you, your creative practices and the Improv group as a whole?

Rhonda: The economic tailspin has not affected me personally or spiritually. Perhaps it is because I’ve been self-employed all my life and haven’t bought into the idea that a corporation, a government, a system of some kind is going to protect me or provide for me. I don’t have any credit card debt. I’ll own my house in seven years. I live within my means, buy my own health insurance, contribute to my retirement account, save for a rainy day, drive a small fuel-efficient car, live in a modest house that’s full of original art, and grow a lovely vegetable and fruit garden. 

So I haven’t had my hopes dashed, or trusts betrayed by the folks on Wall Street and in corporate boardrooms who have been using any means possible to amass a bunch of stuff to fend off the certainty of death. I know that might sound a little “out there,” but so be it. I actually think that the house of cards we had been building needed to come down; it obviously wasn’t sustainable. 

I’m sorry that our world isn’t more just, so that the people most responsible for the mess have to clean it up and suffer the consequences. I’m sorry that it is the least among us who are the hardest hit. But at the same time, as a society, having the rug pulled out from under our feet can be good.

Marc: I think I understand your comment but as a point of clarification could you explain why you think "having the rug pulled out from under our feet can be good?"

Rhonda: It makes us confront whatever has us in its chains, allows us to recalibrate, to ask, “Just what IS important?” And if you are lucky, it won’t be your BMW. It won’t be your place at the lake, or your seventh mansion. It will be the light in your true love’s eyes. The connection you have with your family and friends and neighbors who reach out and help each other in new ways. 

“Hard times” are often “spiritual times,” when you are given a new opportunity to connect to your better self, to what you truly value. And because art is a conduit to the soul, to what we value, it becomes even more valuable in times like this.

Marc: And how does your response “getting paid for it” fit in? How is success defined by financial reward?

Rhonda: Art is beyond money, and yet money is the easiest way we’ve figured out how to measure value. So, as an artist, I hope to be compensated monetarily for what I do, because then I can do more of it and less of something else that provides me an income. So part of my time is spent convincing my audience, my supporters, the grant panelists, or whomever, to give me money for what I do, and if everyone is walking around feeling like money is scarce, then that job is harder and more time-consuming, so in that way, the economic situation has affected my day-to-day life as an artist. But even if I never made a cent, I’d have to make art anyway. 

Marc: Right on. Making art no matter what, like an impulse, like a behavorial propensity. People make art everywhere, all over the world. What regional exhibits have had the most influential effect on you? And why?

Rhonda: I loved the years when the Arnot Art Museum did the Re-Presenting Representation shows. I would go there and pick out half a dozen works to write from. I wept when I saw Jerome Witkin's room-sized paintings depicting the Holocaust. I once took a catnap on the floor next to a sculpture created by Eric Goulder. I have dozens of poems, and a whole chapbook, Breathing In, Breathing Out, FootHills Publishing, 2001, based on being inspired by other forms of art. 

As a performing artist, I’ve also been inspired by performances, many of them at 171 Cedar Arts, or at the old court house in Corning. When Lois Welk was running the dance and performance arts series, she brought in some breathtaking performers; David Dorfman, Toots Thielemans, Kenny Werner, Kurt Elling, Avila Weeks, and Lois herself. Very inspirational. 

More recently, I think Ann Welles is doing a terrific job with the gallery at 171 and her other projects. I loved Denny Smith’s show at 171. And Jan Kather, Tom Oberg, Tedd Arnold and the crew at Rural Research Labs in Elmira are always inspiring to me. I love how they seem to create art for art’s sake—not to sell it or to get into some big-name gallery, but just because they HAVE TO MAKE ART, and often with an eye toward social or cultural commentary. They make me look at the world anew. And of course, when Marty Poole lets his imagination have free rein, his paintings stop me cold and then light me on fire.

Marc: Yeah I agree lots of good things are happening in this region. Some of the people you name will be a part of my Creative Footprint project in the near future. I interviewed Tedd already and it was a hoot. Everyone has stories and lots of interesting things to say about the Southern Tier. Let’s talk more about our region. What was your most recent pleasurable visual experience in upstate New York?

Rhonda: Driving on Route 17 through Big Flats at sunset – it’s always stunning. The tangerine giving way to rose and lime and bright blue. 

Marc: I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes when I‘m driving on back roads or on Route 13 or 352, I follow the sun’s glow and I often think if only for a moment that I’m the only one in the world experiencing it. It’s nice to hear someone else comment on such a wonderful experience. It’s inspiring. Speaking of inspiration, what inspires you?

Rhonda: An empty room with a wooden floor and high ceilings ringed with windows at the top to let in the light and bounce sound around.

Marc: Nice answer. I can see it. I can actually hear it and feel the warmth of the sun creeping in. If you had not chosen to be an artist or performer what career would you have pursued?

Rhonda: Gardener or travel writer would have been right up there. Still are. I will be working until I’m 100. I might have to change careers a few more times between now and then.

Marc: If you could meet any artist, poet, performer, etc, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Rhonda: I think I’m caught up on the word “meet.” It connotes a superficial encounter with a celebrity or something. Of course there are artists I’d like to hang out with for hours at a time and really get to know.  But truly profound connection with just about anyone excites me, whereas those “quick handshake after the show” encounters exhaust me. 

Marc: Ok, let me rephrase my question – what artist, poet, performer, or other creative individual, dead or alive, would you want to hang out with for a solid 5 hour stretch of time, morning, day or night, with or without an interpreter, anywhere in the upstate region of NY and PA? Who would it be, where would you go and so on? Set up the scene.

Rhonda: Well, put it that way, and I’d like to gather all those people I mentioned in my answer about inspiring regional exhibits and performances – artists from here and from afar—plus writers like Annie Dillard, Mary Oliver, Brian Swimme, some of my mentors like Rhiannon and Phil Porter, my fellow Alligators, my writers group, and my best friends. I’d like to get us all together and create something collaboratively. Cook. Sing. Dance. Create that kind of open-pore connection you get when you are kissing your beloved and you just kiss and kiss and kiss until God shows up and kisses back. 

Oh, and since I can set the entire scene, let’s have it be on the first really warm day in April, from 1:00 until 6:00, so that we can enjoy the warmest part of the day and the sun slanting and creating color in the air in that magical way it does, and let’s gather in the woods next to a creek running high from the winter melt and spring rains with wildflowers everywhere and birds going crazy.

Marc: Annie Dillard’s one of my favorite writers too. Her writings give me a greater appreciation for the simple things in life. What are some life lessons you've learned from art?

Rhonda: There are always more choices if you're open to them. Lean into whatever scares you.

Marc: What advice would you give to a young or budding artist?

Rhonda: I’d like to emphasize “budding” here, because this is good advice for an emerging artist of any age, 20, 30, 40, 50, etc. Live in such a way that you can give yourself over to your ideas and impulses fully without other responsibilities. Seek out highly-functioning artist peers and mentors who will inspire and validate you as an artist. Avoid “blocked artists” like the plague. Cross-pollinate: read, travel, surf the web, talk to the most interesting people you can find. Throw out your TV and any other mind-numbing habits you may have developed. Be single-minded and live for your art.

Marc : I couldn’t agree with you more regarding your advice on seeking out highly functioning artist peers and mentors, but allow me to be the devil’s advocate for a second and ask you about your comment, “throw out your TV” I can’t argue it because I don’t have a TV in my Brooklyn place, but in Ithaca, I have a 40-inch Samsung HDTV and I gotta say, I love it. For the most part I do understand your point, but what specifically do you believe is negative about TV for a “budding” artist? Do you have any examples? And please list some other “mind numbing habits” you allude to. And what does being “single minded” and “living for your art” mean? Pardon the bombardment of questions!

Rhonda: I haven’t had a TV since I left for college some 30+ years ago, so I’m no expert on it. But when I catch glimpses of, or read about, or hear people discussing, sounds like TV has really really dumbed down over these three decades. I’m sure there are enlightening shows to be had, but the vast number of channels are devoted to drivel and to selling you ideas intended to line other people’s pockets with cash. I could go on and on about TV, but that’s not really the point I was trying to make.

What I was trying to say was, being an artist means being engaged with life on a deep level. It means diving into your murkiest shadows and digging around in there. It means being a keen observer and an analytical thinker and a committed sensualist. It means feeling everything there is to feel, thinking the unthinkable, telling your spirit “yes” even if your spirit seems silly or dangerous or a bubble off level. So I think it takes a whole lot of concentration and courage and consciousness to be an artist. And at the same time there are any number of distractions and opiates available to keep you shut down from all of that, and you have to be aware of what those are for you. 

I think of it as “your drug of choice.” It could be watching “Dancing with the Stars,” it could be dusting your knickknacks, it could be staying in a bad relationship, it could be taking on problems that aren’t yours, it could be playing solitaire with a computer screen, it could be worrying, it could be drinking/eating/sleeping too much—whatever. All you have to do is look closely at your life to see what it is. 

And in my experience, there is usually a long line of things, so you get rid of one and there are a million more waiting to take its place. So, being single-minded and living for your art means that you are ruthless about cutting out those things that aren’t life-force sustaining, that are time- and energy-wasters. And continually come back to being in alignment with your truest values, your deepest dreams and your fearlessness.

Marc: Dang, that was a wholehearted smack-me-upside-the-head response. Gotta love it! Thanks for that. I get the feeling some people are posting their TV’s for sale on Craigslist right now! Enough abut TV, let’s move on to film and books. Can you mention and add a brief comment about one of your favorite movies or books?

Rhonda: As I said earlier, some of my favorite writers are Mary Oliver, Annie Dillard, and Brian Swimme – experiencing their minute attention to the cosmos and our place in it is like prayer. Favorite poets include Robert Hass and Billy Collins because they show us the magic and the sacred in our everyday lives.

Marc: So nice to hear Billy Collins’ poetry mentioned – he’s brilliant. He was U.S. Poet Laureate in 2001 through 2003. He’s also from New York. I love his stuff. How do you manage your life in terms of making art and doing other things? Do you have a work schedule where you put aside time just to make your art?

 

Rhonda: In addition to managing Alligator Mouth Improv, I’m self-employed as a marketing communications writer for area businesses and organizations. So it’s like I have two fulltime jobs. As I said, I don’t have a TV. I don’t have hobbies. I don’t visit my dad enough. I rarely invite friends over. Sleep is precious. I pour every spare second into Alligator Mouth Improv; the administration side to it, for example grant writing, PR, promotion, sales, scheduling and planning time in the studio with the ensemble, etc., etc., is amazingly time-consuming. 

And yes, I try to get into the studio three times a week for solo exploration and at least once for collaborative time. Plus, I try to sit down at the piano in my house and practice ear training regularly. I also set aside big stretches with the full ensemble where we go into the studio for days at a time. And I go to California every year to get a dose of inspiration and training from the improvisational greats. And I have been meeting with my writers group to critique each others’ work for close to 15 years.

Marc: You are very dedicated. What is the greatest compliment anyone has ever paid to you regarding your artwork?

Rhonda: No one person comes to mind, but on a number of occasions people have said, “What you did moved me to do something I needed to do or had wanted to do for some time.” That’s music to my ears. Also, when other performers I really respect have wanted to work with me - that too has felt terrific. And of course, when my dad says he’s proud of me.

Marc: It’s a beautiful thing to recognize the continual importance of parental support throughout one’s life. It’s a great feeling to love one’s parents. Maybe you should plan to visit your Dad soon; you did mention you don’t visit him enough. Is there any hidden, suppressed or secret goal or dream in your life, whether creative or otherwise, you'd like to pursue and accomplish?

Rhonda: Nothing hidden, suppressed or secret. I make no bones about wanting to work with my ensemble fulltime, making a difference in the world, and all of us making a living wage from it. Our time is coming. I have faith that our dream will come to pass.

Marc: It’s good to have faith. I hope your time comes too, although I believe it’s here and always has been for it seems to me you truly strive to live in the moment. Ok, here’s the big question, my last one, the one question that prompted me to come up with “Creative Footprint,” the one question so many of us ponder. At this point in time in your life, what do you think will be your mark on culture and community that you leave behind?

Rhonda: I hope people have added me to the chorus of voices in their heads and that I’m belting out a big fat song of “yes” whenever they think about pursuing what’s important and true and essential to them.

Marc: Spoken like a truly inspired person. You have lots of heart and passion Rhonda Morton, thanks for your time and for putting up with my questions. Much love and respect to you and your group in all your future endeavors. 

Photo credits: Annie Dillard by Phyllis Rose

Marc Dennis can be reached here.

Creative Footprint: Children's book author and illustrator Tedd Arnold

“Creative Footprint” encompasses a series of dialogues with creative people and like-minded art enthusiasts exploring and examining the ways in which we leave our mark on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist and professor at Elmira College.

 

My guest: Tedd Arnold                                                     

 

Profession: Children's book author and illustrator

Residence: Elmira, NY

Education/Training: BFA, University of Florida, Gainesville, FL

Visit Tedd's website here

Q: (Marc): Hi Tedd, thanks a lot for taking the time to participate in my project. Let me start off with some basic stuff -- where were you born, where did you grow up and why did you decide to stay in upstate New York?

A: (Tedd): I was born in Elmira, NY. As I entered 6th grade, my father lost his job. We moved to Florida where I lived for 25 years. A job opportunity in New York City brought me back north with my wife Carol and our two sons in 1984. After two years in NYC we moved to Elmira. Compared to our residence in Yonkers, NY, Elmira is family-friendly, affordable and offered good neighborhood schools for our boys. 

Affordability was important because I was transitioning from employment to self-employment at that time. My publishing career had just begun. I brought a handful of contracts to Elmira, set up a studio in the parlor and completed work on my first book, “No Jumping on the Bed,” which was published in 1987.

Q: Many know you to be a very successful children's book writer and illustrator, I've been fortunate enough though to see some of your other artwork such as your paintings and drawings that many people are likely not aware of. My question with regards to your paintings, is how do they fit into your overall game plan as an artist? Do you need to make paintings? Did you train as a painter and then became an illustrator? How do they differ from your illustrations? Please explain.

My BFA from the University of Florida involved a studio major in printmaking, specifically etched plate. I painted throughout college and after. When it came time, sadly, to earn a living, I was initially conflicted about becoming an illustrator for hire. The in-the-clouds world of art school had engendered an attitude that commercial art was distasteful. That was the 70s! Nevertheless, the demand for food on the table was strong. I took work as a textbook illustrator, then as an advertising graphic designer and illustrator.

Meanwhile, I continued painting for myself and working with a group of artists on conceptual art shows and events. My wife, Carol, had been a Kindergarten teacher and the books she was reading in her classroom eventually inspired me to spend most of my free time creating children's book ideas and illustrations.

Gradually, I ceased my post collegiate art efforts to devote all my energies to children's books. During six years of gathering rejections from editors, a job as book designer for a publisher took our growing family to New York City.

Our two-year stay in the city created the opportunity to seek out a literary agent. I soon obtained my first book contracts. The painter in me took an ever more distant back seat as my book career took off and our children took over my life. But I never had cause to say never again. 

After 15 years of publishing I had accomplished more than my modest dreams had hoped for--and our kids were on their way out the door. I once again took up brush and canvas in my free time. Truthfully, I also credit President George W. Bush and his war in Iraq for stirring up some radical feelings similar to those I held back during the Vietnam War. 

My renewed interest in painting quickly developed a dark if not overtly political edge. It surprised many friends who knew only my children's book work. But I like to point out that my children's book work also surprised many of my old friends who once knew only my painted and conceptual work from the 70s. I feel no conflict as an artist.

I am working within a personal continuum. I communicate stories and ideas with words and pictures. Like all artists, like every living person, I strive to define myself daily and I am in no way troubled by entertaining more than one definition. In children's book parlance, that's just part of being a grown-up.

Q: I like that you said you strive to define yourself daily; I agree totally that most if not all human beings strive to define themselves as well as better themselves. It's in our DNA I believe. You mentioned that you gradually ceased your post collegiate art efforts to devote all of your energies to children's books. What were those “post collegiate art efforts?” Did it involve spending boatloads of time in the studio, isolated, making prints and paintings, working like a dog? And what was your goal? Did you want gallery representation, reviews, attention, fame and so on?

 

My work included a lot of drawing, painted canvases, offset lithography, assemblage and group activities. As a member of a guerrilla arts group called "no space," I participated in a variety of events like "The Motel Show," where each artist took a room in an abandoned motel slated for demolition and each was free to do whatever, present whatever, in that room, and then there was the more socially engaging "Bus Show," displaying art in the city of Tallahassee's bus overhead advertising strips.

Once as a solo performance, I acquired a peddler's permit, built a cart and peddled small painted works in the downtown city parks. In that entire period of work, I had no financial or gallery goals. I was living completely under the radar. I simply enjoyed working from within a community of artists who were all doing similar guerrilla-style events. It was, I remind you, the mid 70's!

Q: Pretty interesting stuff, sounds like you were diversified in your creative output. Were you always making things to look at? When did you first want to be an artist, or when did you first realize you were one?

According to my mother I was always an artist—certainly compared with my three brothers. Her support was almost never overt. She was simply understanding. After I began checking out volumes of how-to-draw books from the library she pointed the way to private art lessons on weekends. That first Saturday morning, when my brothers went off to bowling league while I began art lessons in a former dentist's office complete with a chair and old Buck Rogers-style x-ray machine still in place, above the Happy Hour Pool Hall in downtown Gainesville, Florida, I knew I was officially on my way as an artist.

Q: And here you are now, a successful professional illustrator. As an illustrator you must have thousands of ideas; how do you prioritize your ideas and then pursue them? Do you have a kind of method for what will be successful? And last but not least, do you have a knack for sensing what story or illustrations would be successful as opposed to failures?

Entering the children's book world after nearly a decade of illustrating professionally in textbooks and advertisements, I was eager to work on my own ideas. Early on, I went with any idea that seemed anywhere even near the ballpark -- whatever might get published. Coming from advertising where various clients needed various styles, I had become very adaptable. Likewise, I treated many of my early books as clients needing various styles. 

Once, I even art-directed myself right out of a project and asked another artist to illustrate one of my stories. Not until my 19th book, “Green Wilma,” did I find what I came to recognize as MY STYLE. And that bug-eyed, zany, cartoon style was inseparable from the kind of story ideas I became focused on—humorous stories. Out of all the possible ideas in the ballpark, I suddenly narrowed my parameters. Do I have a knack for recognizing a successful idea from a failure? Hardly. But I now recognize my style. If an idea isn't funny and doesn't offer the potential for funny pictures, it's not for me.

 

Q: What is it you want kids to take away from having experienced your books? Do you have any predetermined notion of what you want them to get from it?

I leave the issue-oriented stories to others. I'm not a teacher or a preacher. There's a Mark Twain quote that I don't have handy but the gist is something like, if a moral emerges from a piece of his writing, he does his best to stomp it out. When kids read my books, I want them to smile and laugh and realize that books can be fun. I don't mean to sound simplistic. My hope is that if reading brings a child pleasure, that child will be more likely to pick up another book.

Is there a self-serving aspect to my hope? Of course. I hope the next book they pick up is another one of mine. But in terms of literacy, it's a win-win situation. My wife, Carol, was a kindergarten teacher. I entered this work with her same concerns for children and literacy. 

I have visited thousands of schools around the country and have observed first hand that the most powerful tool I can wield to encourage kids, especially boys, to give a book a chance is humor.

Victor Borge once said, "Laughter is the shortest distance between two people." It's also the shortest distance between a book and a child.

Q: I've asked other artists this question, but perhaps as an illustrator and a fine artist, you may offer another take on it – what do you think causes creative blocks? And when you experience them what are some of the ways you resolve them?

 

Stress, panic, deadlines... Many things can be blockers. But it's just as likely that stress, panic and deadlines can induce creativity. Sometimes too much freedom can be a block and a narrowing of parameters is needed. And vice-versa. I really don't know how the mind works. My books are long-term projects. In a good year I can accomplish two or three books. Two or three ideas a year? That ain't so tough. I've never gotten blocked to the point of work grinding to a halt. The development stages of my books overlap so I'm never working on just one thing—and perhaps that's an answer--if you're blocked, do something else.

At the very least, take a walk. After you've wrestled a while with your problem, give it a rest and let your subconscious take over. Walking works for me. It's hard to believe how often I walk the levees of Elmira and fail to encounter another walker. Why aren't more people out walking? All that beauty and space so sparsely populated! It often seems to me that many people are afraid to be alone with their own thoughts. Walking, for me, is a creative pursuit.

Q: Yeah, I can understand that for sure; as a city guy, being from Brooklyn, I definitely can see how walking opens up pathways in one's mind that one likely never suspected were even there prior to stepping out for the walk. More people should definitely be walking around the waterways, streets and parks. It's great exercise for the brain and the body. Ok, let's move on and talk about inspiration. Are you attracted to a certain type, genre or discipline of work when it comes to making children's books? Who is your favorite children's book illustrator?

 

I grew up on MAD Magazine and graduated to underground comics in the 70s. Now I collect graphic novels—words and pictures coming together to make a story. My favorite children's book author/illustrator? So many! But to name one? Arnold Lobel. Remember the “Frog and Toad” books? “Owl at Home”?

Q: I'd love to talk to you more about graphic novels but it'll have to wait for another time, maybe a follow up interview down the road, but for now, I need to ask you a bunch of questions about advice, work habits and career stuff. First off, what part of the day, week, month or year are you most creative and why do you think this is the case?

 

I have no clear sense of a pattern to my creativity and have no interest in trying to analyze it.

Q: How would you define success for an artist?

 

Success, for me, is recognition by peers in my chosen line of work that I am one of the gang. And enough cash flow to do the work.

Q: What advice would you give to a young or budding artist?

Be prolific. Devote the time that it takes. And it does take time!

Q: True, true. Commitment is vital when it comes to making art. And so how about those days when it's not happening? Describe a bad day in the studio you've had recently.

 

Bad days only happen when I'm not in the studio. Some days, the work goes better than others, but every day I'm able to practice my craft is a good day.

Q: I've heard many people talk about how art has taught them certain things or how art offered them real life lessons. Where do you stand on this notion? What are some life lessons you've learned from art?

 

There are people out there who will never understand. And that's okay. Some will, and that's enough. Remember that, once out of school, it is extremely difficult to find truly helpful criticism. So many people try to be nicey-nice and a few try to be destructive. You must put your work out to be seen, then listen for the rare honest words that you can build upon. The children's book world offers me constant, honest feedback because that is the way of children. The adult art world is on an entirely different planet.

Q: I agree with your take on criticism. I'm sometimes brutally honest with my students; it's not easy, but it's better for them, at least the serious ones, to hear the truth about their work and their weaknesses, in addition to their strengths, so they may discover what direction to take in order to improve. How about your line of business -- I'm sure there are things that you think need improvement in the world of children's books. If you could change one thing about the business you're in what would it be?

 

I would like to change how the children's book trade has become driven by the bottom line. Once, editors nurtured budding authors and artists. A relationship with an editor was something that developed over time. Each book was given time to “find its legs.” An editor had autonomy within the company. 

Now, editors take everything to acquisition committee meetings that often include chain-bookstore representatives helping to make decisions about what sees print and what doesn't. Publishers want the assurance of full-blown success on Day One or they won't publish. And the current economy exacerbates the problem exponentially.

Q: If you had not chosen to be an artist what career would you have pursued?

 

Nothing comes to mind. Seriously--it's a scary thought.

 

Q: What regional exhibits have had the most influential effect on you? And why?

 

John O'Hern's Re-Presenting Representation series of shows at the Arnot Art Museum!!! In college I was accused of trying to be another Andrew Wyeth, or, god forbid, Norman Rockwell. That criticism drove me, successfully I think, to push my personal expression in new directions. But I have never lost my love of wonderfully executed representational imagery.

Q: What was your most recent pleasurable visual experience in upstate New York?

ESTHER NISENTHAL KRINITZ: Fabric of Survival at the Arnot Art Museum in Elmira.

Q: Yeah I agree, it was a terrific show, loaded with strong visuals, solid craft and emotional narrative. It's interesting timing that you mention Esther Krinitz's show, because my next question revolves around a rare opportunity to meet another artist, and I've often wondered what I'd ask Franciszek Targosz, an unknown artist from Poland who was an inmate at Auschwitz, if I had had the opportunity to meet him. My question to you is simple yet I'm sure comprises a complex process in order to arrive at an answer. Here goes - If you could meet any artist, living or dead, who would it be and why?

I would like to be a fly on the cave wall when Neanderthal man painted those hunting scenes in France. I am interested in and collect Outsider Art and it doesn't get any more outsider than that.

Q: That’s a great thought – to be a fly on the cave wall at Lascaux. Cool. Can you describe the scene?

 

I have no idea. Smoky, smelly, ritualistic? I would just like to see the pigments being mixed, the rough hands touching stone, tracing those fluid and lovely beasts, turning brute experience and raw elements into meaningfulness. Storytelling!

Q: Can you mention and add a brief comment about one of your favorite movies or books? I ask this question because I believe a lot of us enjoy hearing about what other folks are reading or watching especially if they're moved by one's creative drive. I also believe recommendations promote a sense of community. And so, what might you - a children's book illustrator and writer, feel strongly about? 

 

“The Judgment of Paris,” by Ross King and the subsequent BBC miniseries, The Impressionists. The book made me realize how little I learned in college art history. There is another book that I often mention to young people. “The Journey Is the Destination, the Journals of Dan Eldon.” Dan Eldon's visual journals and life story are saturated with image and experience. Kids in the digital blog age need to see how rich it can be to work in non-digital media, like paint and paper and paste and ink and collage.

Q: Could you please say a bit about something you've done to further your career, as a children’s book illustrator and writer that you didn’t think would be part of the ride?

For my children's book career, one of the biggest surprises has been the amount of time I spend making appearances in elementary schools, talking with children about my work and how I turn ideas into stories and stories into pictures and words. The appearances, 50-60 days per year, promote my books, but more importantly, it keeps me in touch with my audience. 

As my own kids grew up, I tended to grow with them and with their concerns as they moved through middle school into high school and beyond. I realized I could very quickly lose track of what makes a kindergartner tick. And frankly, I have had several book ideas that were sparked by those appearances and interactions with school children.

Q: Is there any hidden, suppressed or secret goal or dream in your life, whether creative or otherwise, that you'd like to pursue and accomplish?

My recent - the last five years, renewed interest in painting and creating art more along the lines of the art I did back in my post-graduate days—gallery art, for lack of a better definer—has stirred some artistic ambitions. Similar to my foray into novel writing "Rat Life" I find myself again wanting to stretch beyond what has become familiar and safe. 

I'm making no secret of my painting efforts but I haven't had the necessary time to fully pursue the gallery art scene while my book work is still in full swing. I paint in fits and starts, mostly for myself, and wonder where I'm going with it.

Hey Tedd, good interview, really good stuff! I’m sure there are many children’s book illustrators out there wanting to make paintings or painters wanting to write a children’s book who are feeling a bit more inspired after reading this. Keep us posted on your direction as a painter. I think your collage piece of the stacked tanks is a tight image, fully loaded so to speak with lots of meaning and playful spasms. Thank you for taking the time to share.

Images (Provided by Artist): 

(1.) Photo of Tedd Arnold, ©Tedd Arnold; 

(2.) "Fly Guy," 2005, from the book, "Hi! Fly Guy" ©Tedd Arnold; 

(3.) "Parts Kid," 1997, from the book "Parts" ©Tedd Arnold; 

(4.) "Eats," 2008, acrylic, ink & oil stick on canvas, 36 x 48 inches ©Tedd Arnold; 

(5.) "Boom," 2008, mixed media collage on paper, approximately 20 x 30 inches ©Tedd Arnold

Marc Dennis can be reached at: mdennis@mixedmediawskg.org