Link

We are very excited for this. Four School of Art & Design students have rented a temporary space in the Masonic Building in downtown Marquette for a satellite exhibition to compliment their work in the senior exhibition. 

L-13

A collaborative, temporary space by:
Sophia Thomas
Jamie Morrow
Craig Neeson
Mark Tarabula

Schedule & Reception dates TBD.

Located in the basement of the Masonic Square, through a lovely series of pastel-blue doors.

Marquette, MI

Photo
sfmoma:

#SubmissionFriday:
vahrammuradyan:

Vahram Muradyan ↻ Marcel Duchamp

sfmoma:

#SubmissionFriday:

vahrammuradyan:

Vahram Muradyan ↻ Marcel Duchamp

Photo
rabbitisland:

The Newest Rabbit Island Satellite Photo
Recently Google uploaded a new satellite image of Rabbit Island. It is an amazing shot. From a camera fixed in orbit 423 miles above our planet you are able to discern features that, until recently, you needed a wetsuit and goggles to see. In amazing detail, you can see, 25 feet under Lake Superior’s surface, the island’s stone reefs. Off the northern tip you can see Moon Break (first surfed in July of 2013 by Ben Moon and Rob Gorski), a right break that forms when north winds blow from between Louis Point and Bete Gris farther up the Keweenaw Peninsula. Off the southeast point, you can see a shallow underwater sandstone ledge that creates breaking waves given an east or northeast blow greater than 20 knots. Those waves build over several hundred miles of fetch from Canada, crash over Rabbit Island, and then flatten again when the depth drops to a deeper blue. With our 13-foot Boston Whaler we’ve surfed some of those waves, too. If you look more closely in the shallows, you can see shoals that native Lake Superior Redfin Trout use for spawning. These shoals are made of layers of head-sized rocks, the result of more than ten-thousand freeze-thaw cycles splitting apart Jacobsville sandstone as it rises to form the island. According to fishermen we’ve bumped into in Calumet, on clear, calm days late in the year you can see trout spawning in these shallows, and when scared by a boat, scurrying between stones, hiding in the many nooks. 
Up out of the water you can see the white cobble shoreline, and inside it a dense, green forest canopy. If you look more closely, you can also see individual mature trees, including several we’ve climbed. Off the southwest point, you can see a dead and weathered deciduous tree that the island’s eagles frequently perch in. On the southern shore you can see a large white pine that toppled in 2012, and which, though partially submerged, has survived two seasons of ice and waves. We call it Big Leanie. On the northwestern shore, you can see the new shelter we began building in 2013—and you can see the roof on it, which we finished on August 10th. A quarter mile south, there’s main camp. The Rabbit Island School camped in the pines there from August 11th through the 17th, but none of their tents are in the satellite image. Four miles to the west, in Rabbit Bay, you can see the small harbor at the mouth of Lahiti Creek where Sisu, our Montauk 17, and our 13-foot Sport, rest on the southern dock. We pulled the boats out of the water on September 15th. By then, leaves were turning yellow, yet there’s no hint of yellow in the image. Taking this into account we estimate that Google shot this photo between August 18th and September 13th, 2013.
All told it is fascinating to consider how this small remote wilderness has now been archived. It is indeed an interesting time to be an environmentalist, and also an artist. Possibilities are certainly changing.
Scrolling around it is interesting to study this image of an ecosystem viewed in its geographic whole and reflect on the overarching idea that everything rising here above lake level will remain, so long as American contract law is valid, unimpeded forever. The island is 91 acres, of course—a mere speck on the scale of a region, state, country or continent—yet in the context of our culture this land and this image represent ideas that we believe are broadly relevant: intentional non-development, the assignment of value to intact watersheds, incorporation of non-financial environmental costs on balance sheets, restraint, community involvement in conservation, wise legislation, honest scientific inquiry, creative expression, the celebration of the natural rules of the game, rational reclamation, etc. The very fact that such satellite imagery of our planet exists changes the ethical fundamentals that every generation going forward must apply to land use.
Giving a voice to these ideas within our culture is one of the goals of the Rabbit Island project. Encouraging others to pursue similar projects is another. Contextualizing land to creative energy in plain terms is a third. Accordingly, it is logical to wonder whether the concept of this image—of this watershed, of those uncut trees—can ever be recreated on a larger, organized scale, and projected upon land where ecosystem integrity had previously been lost to subdivision. (A related essay exploring this can be found here.) We believe that such ideas must necessarily become part of our culture. As the ability of society to reasonably organize itself sustainably continues to progress we believe that wilderness, like art, will continually be seen as evidence of a civilized people, and, as a corollary, that a civilized people will become capable of creating the conditions necessary for sensible organization of environments on a larger scale than the individual. Wilderness, where it exists, after all, exemplifies civilization in our modern world. 
As the snow accumulates on Rabbit Island and the ice on the shore thickens, we’re preparing for our 2014 Artists in Residence. Others are working on a handful of independent projects, continuing various scientific experiments, readying the second annual Rabbit Island School, and seeking the IRS accreditation of the 501c3 Rabbit Island Foundation, a professionally-managed, crowdsourced, conservation fund. Still others are reporting last year’s artist activity, and—we’re crossing our fingers here—planning a fishing derby in late July. Summer’s coming, and it’s exciting as ever.

rabbitisland:

The Newest Rabbit Island Satellite Photo

Recently Google uploaded a new satellite image of Rabbit Island. It is an amazing shot. From a camera fixed in orbit 423 miles above our planet you are able to discern features that, until recently, you needed a wetsuit and goggles to see. In amazing detail, you can see, 25 feet under Lake Superior’s surface, the island’s stone reefs. Off the northern tip you can see Moon Break (first surfed in July of 2013 by Ben Moon and Rob Gorski), a right break that forms when north winds blow from between Louis Point and Bete Gris farther up the Keweenaw Peninsula. Off the southeast point, you can see a shallow underwater sandstone ledge that creates breaking waves given an east or northeast blow greater than 20 knots. Those waves build over several hundred miles of fetch from Canada, crash over Rabbit Island, and then flatten again when the depth drops to a deeper blue. With our 13-foot Boston Whaler we’ve surfed some of those waves, too. If you look more closely in the shallows, you can see shoals that native Lake Superior Redfin Trout use for spawning. These shoals are made of layers of head-sized rocks, the result of more than ten-thousand freeze-thaw cycles splitting apart Jacobsville sandstone as it rises to form the island. According to fishermen we’ve bumped into in Calumet, on clear, calm days late in the year you can see trout spawning in these shallows, and when scared by a boat, scurrying between stones, hiding in the many nooks. 

Up out of the water you can see the white cobble shoreline, and inside it a dense, green forest canopy. If you look more closely, you can also see individual mature trees, including several we’ve climbed. Off the southwest point, you can see a dead and weathered deciduous tree that the island’s eagles frequently perch in. On the southern shore you can see a large white pine that toppled in 2012, and which, though partially submerged, has survived two seasons of ice and waves. We call it Big Leanie. On the northwestern shore, you can see the new shelter we began building in 2013—and you can see the roof on it, which we finished on August 10th. A quarter mile south, there’s main camp. The Rabbit Island School camped in the pines there from August 11th through the 17th, but none of their tents are in the satellite image. Four miles to the west, in Rabbit Bay, you can see the small harbor at the mouth of Lahiti Creek where Sisu, our Montauk 17, and our 13-foot Sport, rest on the southern dock. We pulled the boats out of the water on September 15th. By then, leaves were turning yellow, yet there’s no hint of yellow in the image. Taking this into account we estimate that Google shot this photo between August 18th and September 13th, 2013.

All told it is fascinating to consider how this small remote wilderness has now been archived. It is indeed an interesting time to be an environmentalist, and also an artist. Possibilities are certainly changing.

Scrolling around it is interesting to study this image of an ecosystem viewed in its geographic whole and reflect on the overarching idea that everything rising here above lake level will remain, so long as American contract law is valid, unimpeded forever. The island is 91 acres, of course—a mere speck on the scale of a region, state, country or continent—yet in the context of our culture this land and this image represent ideas that we believe are broadly relevant: intentional non-development, the assignment of value to intact watersheds, incorporation of non-financial environmental costs on balance sheets, restraint, community involvement in conservation, wise legislation, honest scientific inquiry, creative expression, the celebration of the natural rules of the game, rational reclamation, etc. The very fact that such satellite imagery of our planet exists changes the ethical fundamentals that every generation going forward must apply to land use.

Giving a voice to these ideas within our culture is one of the goals of the Rabbit Island project. Encouraging others to pursue similar projects is another. Contextualizing land to creative energy in plain terms is a third. Accordingly, it is logical to wonder whether the concept of this image—of this watershed, of those uncut trees—can ever be recreated on a larger, organized scale, and projected upon land where ecosystem integrity had previously been lost to subdivision. (A related essay exploring this can be found here.) We believe that such ideas must necessarily become part of our culture. As the ability of society to reasonably organize itself sustainably continues to progress we believe that wilderness, like art, will continually be seen as evidence of a civilized people, and, as a corollary, that a civilized people will become capable of creating the conditions necessary for sensible organization of environments on a larger scale than the individual. Wilderness, where it exists, after all, exemplifies civilization in our modern world. 

As the snow accumulates on Rabbit Island and the ice on the shore thickens, we’re preparing for our 2014 Artists in Residence. Others are working on a handful of independent projects, continuing various scientific experiments, readying the second annual Rabbit Island School, and seeking the IRS accreditation of the 501c3 Rabbit Island Foundation, a professionally-managed, crowdsourced, conservation fund. Still others are reporting last year’s artist activity, and—we’re crossing our fingers here—planning a fishing derby in late July. Summer’s coming, and it’s exciting as ever.
Photoset

albrightknox:

In honor of Mardi Gras, two views of New Orleans photographed by the American artist Ralston Crawford (19061978).

Top(New Orleans Parade), 1956. Gelatin silver print. 
Jointly owned by the Albright-Knox Art Gallery and the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Gift of John Crawford, 2009.
Bottom(Street, Shadows, New Orleans), 1973. Gelatin silver print. Jointly owned by the Albright-Knox Art Gallery and the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Gift of John Crawford, 2009. 

Photo
artnet:

The Armory Show
Twenty years after its founding, the Armory Show is still going strong, anchoring the busiest week of the year on the New York art world’s calendar. Some of our favorite galleries gave us a sneak peek at choice pieces they’ll be hanging in their Armory Show booths .. take a look.

artnet:

The Armory Show

Twenty years after its founding, the Armory Show is still going strong, anchoring the busiest week of the year on the New York art world’s calendar. Some of our favorite galleries gave us a sneak peek at choice pieces they’ll be hanging in their Armory Show booths .. take a look.

Photo
FREE WORKSHOP! Preparing artwork for jury.
Led by: Artist Kristine Granger
Feb. 20th at 7pm!

FREE WORKSHOP! Preparing artwork for jury.

Led by: Artist Kristine Granger

Feb. 20th at 7pm!

Photo
A penny for your thoughts? One of two interactive elements part of The End WIll Look as the Beginning Did. This exhibit was co-curated by four Northern Michigan University students from the museums permanent collection. The typewriter is gathering some lovely musings from gallery visitors. Add your two cents.

A penny for your thoughts?

One of two interactive elements part of The End WIll Look as the Beginning Did. This exhibit was co-curated by four Northern Michigan University students from the museums permanent collection. The typewriter is gathering some lovely musings from gallery visitors. Add your two cents.

Photo
museumgifs:

Torah CrownJoachim Hubener II (active c. 1737–1780)Berlin, 1779–1803; 1802/03 (date of inscription)Silver: cast, repoussé, and parcel-gilt; stones

 Could .gifs be a way to experience dimensional objects in a non-dimensional format? Via Hyperallergic

museumgifs:

Torah Crown
Joachim Hubener II (active c. 1737–1780)
Berlin, 1779–1803; 1802/03 (date of inscription)
Silver: cast, repoussé, and parcel-gilt; stones

 Could .gifs be a way to experience dimensional objects in a non-dimensional format? Via Hyperallergic

Tags: Museum gif art
Text

After successfully staging a challenging exhibition, it’s important to thank those who helped you do it.

whenyouworkatamuseum:

image

(Source: whenyouworkatamuseum)

Photoset

mitchkebab:

americanguide:

WHAT REMAINS EAST - EAST MILLINOCKET, MAINE

At EAST MILLINOCKET…the forest comes almost to the back doors of the small houses. 

Maine, A Guide Down East (WPA, 1937)

East Millinocket used to be an affluent community rooted in a thriving paper industry. The town’s paper mill has been struggling for the last decade, and since then the town has seen a large population drop, homes falling into disrepair, and economic depression. The few thousand people who remain in this town have a dignity that allows them to continue working and living in this community.

* * *

Mitch Borden is a working photographer. He attended Northern Michigan University where he earned a bachelors degree in Art & Design with a minor in Political Science.  He recently finished studying documentary photography and multimedia storytelling at the Salt Institute in Portland, ME. This series was a product of Mitch’s time at the Salt Institute. To see more of his work go to mbordenphoto.com or you can also follow Mitch on tumblr at http://mitchkebab.tumblr.com/.

Some of my work in East Millinocket was featured on the fantastic blog The American Guide (which everyone should check out).  

Keep up the good work!

Photo
Artist Mariel Versluis touching up Time is a Brisk Wind for Mariel Versluis: Be Here, By Me opening Monday January 13th

Artist Mariel Versluis touching up Time is a Brisk Wind for Mariel Versluis: Be Here, By Me opening Monday January 13th

Tags: nmu art museum
Photo
artnet:

A look back: These top 300 artists were the most popular at the end of 2013.

artnet:

A look back: These top 300 artists were the most popular at the end of 2013.

Photoset

museumuesum:

PAUL PFEIFFER

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, 2000-2006

Fujiflex Digital C-prints, 60 x 48 inches each

In his series Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Paul Pfeiffer draws our attention to how iconography can produce saints, heroes, and other legendary figures out of regular human beings. Using digital editing (modern painterly techniques, according to Pfeiffer) he removes the billboards, scoreboards, other players, and all graphics on the athlete’s uniform, leaving only a solitary figure in a triumphant moment, applauded by thousands of adoring spectators. The plain white uniform of the athlete and the title of the work identify the player as a conquering figure of Biblical proportions, as described in Revelations 6:2 of the New Testament: “And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.”

Photo
hyperallergic:

Look like Barbara Kruger has designed a series of sunglasses for ForYourArt with the very Krugerian phrase, “Your gaze hits the side of my face.”

hyperallergic:

Look like Barbara Kruger has designed a series of sunglasses for ForYourArt with the very Krugerian phrase, “Your gaze hits the side of my face.”

(via lacma)

Link

rabbitisland:

Congratulations: 2014 Supported Residents

We are excited to announce the awarded residencies for next summer. The following participants will receive funding to travel to the island starting June 2014 and their work will be featured in an exhibition and publication at the DeVos Art Museum in…

Congrats to those selected for the 2014 Rabbit Island Residency! Watch for the exhibition in Fall 2014.