My latest essay is now up for reading on Neoteric Art. Please check it out.
Tag Archives: matt ballou
Current Shows, Catalogs, Essays
A lot going on these days.
The show I’m in at MANIFEST in Cincinnati has just released the catalog (cover below, click it to order one – it’s volume 43, bottom of the page).
Also, I’m included in a show at McNeese State University. Click here for more info. If you’re near Lake Charles, LA, go check it out!
I’ve got an article in the Columbia Daily Tribune up as well (and keep on the lookout over at Neoteric Art for my upcoming essay on Art and Subjectivity!). Click here to check out the Tribune piece. Below is one of the pieces I talk about (click it to see more about the image at the Brooklyn Museum):
Barefoot and Pregnant (and Majestic) in the Kitchen
Lamentations Series Continuing On
I’ve been continuing work on the Lamentations 3 series – see the latest work below (and an earlier note here). You can see one of the other paintings in the series here.
You can probably see that I am referencing Arnold Bocklin‘s famous painting Isle of the Dead – which he recreated many times – in this work. The connotations it carries with it seemed like a good basis upon with to embed my own reference and image.
I am also pulling from Nerdrum‘s recurring figure of alienation, seen in his Man in an Abandoned Landscape and Iron Law (center, distance).
Beginning Painters, Spring 2010
I have a pretty good crew of beginning painters this semester at the University of Missouri. I’ve been teaching the course a little differently this year, jumping into making stretchers and stretching canvases, working directly with color from the start, and assigning many, many more preparatory works than I usually do. I’ve been showing them Diebenkorn, Tim Kennedy, Sangram Majumdar, Catherine Murphy, and Uglow. The students seem to be responding.
We’ve been talking a lot about the color and direction of light, focusing intensely on how value shifts over forms and through spaces. I’m enjoying a lot of what they’ve done. Here are a few of the current project (all are oil on canvas, each approximately 14 by 14 inches):
Sarah Burch
Arin Hennessey
Dannah Moore
Jesus Roman
Katie Westhusing
Alyssandra Wilkey
The Logic of Tension
Certainty (Or Pinned) and Know, In Progress
The Log Cabin, 1991-1992
In the summer and fall of 1991 my cousin Chris and I constructed a log cabin in the woods outside of Camden, NY. Click here to see the area where the cabin existed.
Chris and I constructed a number of shelters and cabins while growing up. This one was perhaps our most ambitious attempt. The images below trace a path from my childhood home to the cabin. They start at the old homestead on Wolcott Hill Road (a home that no longer exists) where I lived between 1976 and 1995 or so.
…moving on to the Road itself…
…along the hills and ridges (the cabin is in the distance)…
…and right up to the front door.
As you can see, we we didn’t finish the chinking and other weathering materials before the storms of the winter came. Later on in the year the landowner found the cabin and instructed us to remove it.
We did… and built another one a few miles away. But that’s another post.
It was a great thing to be a part of, this cabin construction period of ours. Lots of life lessons learned, brother.
Beginning Painting, August 1997
In August of 1997 I began art school at Munson Williams Proctor Institute of Art. At the time the school was transitioning into the upstate extension campus of Pratt Institute. Bright, new facilities (the best I’ve ever had access to, anywhere, any time) were there for us to cut our aesthetic teeth on, and an energetic faculty with a sense of the coming transformation challenged a really great group of students during those transitional years. Recognized artists such as Sam Salisbury and Silas Dilworth, among others, were there in and around the same years I was.
It was during my first weeks there that I was exposed to two images that would define much of the next decade of my artistic life. There, spread out on a table in the large painting room were two books (among many others). Two images – one from each – caught my eye. The first was “Twilight” by Odd Nerdrum, the second was an iconic Ocean Park series piece by Richard Diebenkorn. I clearly remember the paradoxical exclamation that leapt into my mind as I gazed at the two works that seemed separated by a huge gulf: “I want to do THAT!” – meaning both.
I’ve spent the last twelve and a half years working to reconcile them. And though I’ve moved on to deeper and perhaps more legitimate inspirational sources and muses, I find that key moment during one of my first official art classes still hangs with me. I’m grateful for it.





















