John Tevis

Cruising AirBnB and Redfin was everyone’s favorite pandemic parlor game. Well, instead of fabulous views, inventive floor-plans, or gardens so fragrant you can smell them off the screen, I’ve homed in on curious design details, seriously bad art, floor tile and tacky polyester bedspreads for this series on things you just can’t unsee on real estate websites. As before, and with all recent work, these collages are 9 x 4 inches, fabricated by hand (it’s incredible how many people think I made these on a computer) with either Gmund, Canson, or Blick papers approximately 300gsm. I’ve recently added a new paper to the mix–Park Lane–after visiting America’s favorite crafting store, JoAnn’s. They sell pastels you can only dream of, and though they don’t have the same tactility as the finer papers, the colors are incredible.

As many of you know, I live in the sticks. If I want to look at or think about art I either have to make it or pull out the books. Recently thirsty for inspiration, I’ve resorted to cannibalizing palette decisions made by heroes like Guy de Cointet, Martin Barré, Andre Cadere and Patrick Caulfield, among others. Distilling the essence of certain paintings, drawings and prints for my own work, I’ve taken to heart Picasso’s dictum about good artists borrowing and great artists stealing. I’ll let the viewer decide which one am I. At the very least, it’s amusing to return to catalogues that I haven’t looked at in years and revisit my esteem–Oh how I loved you Al Held!–once lavished, then inattentively withheld, now reworked. These works are entitled “After” for renderings that remake more or less faithfully the artwork in question and “Inspired by” for pieces that freely interpret the colors and structure of a reproduction that caught my eye while flipping through monographs.

I took a hiatus to care for my ailing mother. This is the first work I made after recommitting to the studio. Having exhausted the possibilities with men’s ties, I wondered if I could capture the essence of certain politicians and celebrities with just a color, a suggestion of a frequently worn or iconic garment. Whether you call it posturing or posing, there’s a reason these people are famous – they know how to stand for a photo and they dress to stand out. As with nearly all of the recent work, these collages were made using heavy weight Canson and Gmund papers (300 gsm) in a small format of 4 x 9 inches.

The tree cutting is accelerating. All around us there are scarred and empty fields where once stood second and third growth forests of Douglas fir and Western red cedar. The forlorn trees left standing are usually too small, malformed or the wrong species for harvesting. Their surroundings covered in early season snow, I like to imagine these misfit trees picking up the pieces and rebuilding the forest and their social lives.

A necktie–for those who still wear them–is like a wearable self-portrait. It projects to the world how you see yourself and how you wish to be perceived: serious or frivolous, conservative or fashion-forward. Sometimes the wearer gets his wires crossed and telegraphs conflicting messages. Though it should come as no surprise how elegantly (and capably) some right wing brutes package their convictions, the weird admixture of official policy, public persona and sartorial display can be a toxic brew indeed. As much as anything, this project is an effort to remember their names and marks a return to the original conceit of the work: can I make that? And sometimes–given the out-and out-ugliness of some of these ties (I am talking about you, Stephen Miller)–can I make that better? Like the Presents from 2019-20, there is a satisfying tactility to the Unofficial Portraits. Some of them comprise four layers of 300 gsm paper each, in contrast to the super-flat collages I’ve made in the past.

Last Christmas I made cards that looked like artfully wrapped packages. My favorites began to resemble ties. I like the play on words (presents = presence, even when we cannot be present this pandemic year) and the multiple meanings of the word tie including, obviously, the link(s) between people, real and/or imagined. Sources of inspiration include Brooks Brothers, Perry Ellis, and Giorgio Armani. We’ve been watching a lot of Italian TV from the 80s and 90s, specifically La Piovra starring Michele Placido and Florinda Bolkan, who could be said to be the Richard Gere and Joan Collins of their time and place. Some of these ties are portraits in that they look like something that someone we know might wear. (Full disclosure: a couple of these ties are in my drawer and I’ve given myself points for realness.) Others are fantastical, absurd even. Finally, in a year lacking in opportunity for formal wear, I wanted an excuse to dress up a bit. There is also a sharp-edged tactility to this work in that the edges of the paper are very pronounced. Some of the ties comprise four layers of 300 gsm paper each, in contrast to the super-flat collages I usually make.

For ten days we didn’t see the sun. The smoke was so thick and widespread that it created its own weather, an inversion as described by the National Weather Service. And it was only half as bad here as it was in the Willamette Valley and parts of California. The layering of public health crises on top of the rolling disaster that is our nation’s political situation is literally insupportable, to borrow a French word. It won’t stand–we tell ourselves–it cannot last. Though the weather is breaking today, the fog of deceit and disinformation continues. I feel trapped in it, as I have felt trapped in the house, unwilling to breathe the toxic brew outdoors. So I worked indoors, fully aware of my privilege to do so. The following collages document impressions of a landscape framed by the screen of Douglas firs in front of the house, bathed in light mediated by the shifting density of particulate matter. In this series, background (Canson 300 gsm watercolor paper) has become foreground (Doug firs), populating the work with all kinds of references to contemporary events, near and far.

If you are new here, welcome. Several of the invitations sent out for Kasi Friedman and Nate Miller’s wedding are compiled in this post. Most of these collages were made on Oak Bay where I live, which just so happens to be next door to where Kasi grew up. I asked Kasi and Nate what colors would well represent them and their celebration and presented them with a selection of recent work. The chosen images depict the Doug firs and impressions of the daily tidal and atmospheric changes that make this place so special. Other images are evocative of the beach where the happy couple will be married over Labor Day Weekend. Enjoy, and best wishes to Kasi & Nate!