Meditations in an Emergency
350 Bleecker St. Art Gallery
January 20th - March 20th, 2021
An exhibit of recent work by Gregg Emery
Poetry by Stephanie Berger, Kate Belew, Jackie Braje & Emi Bergquist
‘Make it simple but significant.’ -Don Draper, Mad Men
Beginning January 20th, 2021, new works by Emery will be shown in the art gallery at 350 Bleecker Street. All paintings will be available for purchase. View the entire list of paintings below along with the dimensions and prices.
View the poetry accompanying select paintings as well as a description of the Pandemic Poetry project here.
Feel free to make any inquiries via the Contact page.
Full artist statement below.
Paintings
Calm in a Storm
Acrylic on muslin, 2020
44”x52”
That difficult lavender morning. Waiting for
the sun to brew and the coffee to rise, or is it
the coffee to brew and the sun to swallow?
Yes, I have been wrong before. But not
about the hours of sleep required to keep
the day obscure, wrapped in curtains.
So what spills forth when drawn back
behind the light of that swallowed sky
the certain sadness of happiness—
plant the seeds in the horizon like that
time I could only say I’m sorry with no plan,
when I said poems are so true they are born rhyming.
Difficult Lavendar
Acrylic on muslin, a collab with Pandemic Poets, 2020
48”x48”
A summer that tastes like raspberry sorbet
which is both thorned and not. A color like
a bad rock song, so sweet in your garage or
in the bar where we first met. I can’t tell if
I am waiting for someone or if I am
studying some science of good-bye,
arriving to leave again, my hand out the car window
like someone in a parade or something. Next
time I’ll wake in a cradle in a forest of Yes
and know I’m home by the way moss grows
that particular shade of green. And mugwort
under the pillow for dreams, for resistance
when the days lack texture and I forget what
laughter feels like in the hands and mouth
and mouth and hands and feel without feeling.
This pigment is as dark as it is bright, depending
on the way I tilt my head, or whatever window
and whatever sill welcomes a more tasteless green.
Science of Goodbye
Acrylic on muslin, a collab with Pandemic Poets, 2020
48”x48”
We decided to go with blues which is probably a smart choice unlike getting stoned before therapy and agreeing to write a letter to my past self. I mean to say this is who I love: an empty park, an open road, and a heart like a fist— opening and running towards the water. Where do we grow this hunger for change if not at the happy end, all welcome. I can promise this, love, I love you so freely, following the wind wherever that may lead, reaching your limbs away from your ribcage, the mouth, it smiles, pink, yellow, shattered.
The Blues
Acrylic on muslin, a collab with Pandemic Poets, 2020
48”x48”
The brief shade of twilight blue following the setting sun-- fleeting as a sandcastle the wave takes and just as cobalt crashing. What waits in amber, or, walks through cities at night on off-grid streets, or, which will last forever, longer? I have dented the pots and the pans, equally. But I am playing this song for no one but my dog who barks at moving water, unaware it’s going where it will, deep where it’s not wide. But still, to hold that breaking in his mouth, carefully, as if to say what cannot be erased can be covered new with wet, tooth, and grip. Interlochen, MI is a very different wind. These currents, my hand splits into everyday routines: coffee grounds, fresh pears, Diana Ross, anything to imitate a heartbeat. Sometimes birds listen at this window. And this is all to say, it’s okay to draw in the margins, to mix flavors and colors until you’ve forgotten the shape of your own tongue.
Twilight Blue
Acrylic on muslin, a collab with Pandemic Poets, 2020
48”x48”
Lost Horizon
Acrylic & spray paint on muslin, 2021
8”x8”
The Quality of Mercy
Acrylic & spray paint on muslin, 2021
8”x8”
I think about coffee all the time
what a difference a little splash makes
a circular stain into the oval office
I must retract my previous statement
the cameras are on. I am smiling
wide with a golden gleaming
tooth in the back left-hand side
on a bus. I have those anxiety dreams
my makeup is wrong or gone
I have missed the stop between I was then
& where we are headed. the name
you were given at birth & your chosen moniker
worn like a pin on the lapel but more
coral. please more water. that undersea
sludge is what I’m after. highs & lows
placed before us like a cup
It’s where we are & it must be
acknowledged, at least, for its temporal
placement because narrative, or its
geography because setting
& reason & mindfulness & dreams &
the other who visits me when I am not awake
if we are going to make it. at least
sometimes we’ll need to be awake.
Coffee All The Time
Acrylic on muslin, a collab with Pandemic Poets, 2020
24”x24”
Warm Colors
Acrylic on muslin, a collab with Rowan Willigan
24”x24”
To Have & To Hold
Acrylic & spray paint on muslin, 2021
8”x8” - Framed
Meditations in an Emergency
New York City which had so recently been filled with raucous music, laughter, shouts and a cacophony of life...that space was quickly subverted by a seemingly unending soundtrack of sirens and silence. The past 10 months have been profound, cathartic and jarring for each of us. After struggling with a serious, personal and lonely battle with COVID the final two weeks of March, I awakened to a slow recovery and a renewed desire to create, to question, move forward and simply breathe. I was privileged to recover, to maintain my job and to be able to continue to grow, develop and show my work locally and abroad. The work presented here is a selection of new paintings from 2020 as well as three new pieces developed in the early weeks of 2021.
The name for this show of recent paintings is borrowed from the collection of poems by Frank O’Hara which I discovered, like so many things in life now, via its significant placement within the early episodes of a TV series, in this particular case, ‘Mad Men.’ I have found inspiration in so many places, from writing, sketching first responders, online shows, reading, teaching and listening intently to the world around and within me.
My painting process has always focused upon meditation, movement and attempting to distill the layers of meaning and questions from the day, life, the city and beyond within the ‘simple yet significant’ gesture of the circle and the contrasting vertical and horizontal sweeps. These marks reveal complexity as much as they obliterate aspects of the previous layers. I see in them progress, buildings, connections, maps and more. I am in awe of what happens within the fibres of the surface when my meditations in pigment become visible.
Notably, there is a chaos that has crept into my current work that I do not wish to conceal but hope to allow it to settle in with the other marks much like the ripples in the disturbed surface of water. Partnering virtually with poets, a fellow resident artist on Governors Island and more, I have welcomed collaboration more than ever in concert with my individual studio efforts to process the effects of the pandemic and the attempts of our nation to awaken to its own reality. There are so many moments of anxiety, violence and uncertainty but I also believe they have been countered with introspection, resolve and creativity. I remain positive about the coming months and I hope these paintings will help you find a moment of meditation for yourself in this time of uncertainty, fear, anger and emergency.
Artist Talks: Every Wednesday evening at 8pm EDT join the artist, Gregg Emery, and guests for a short talk about creation, collaboration and crises in the past year. Chat and ask questions in the 45-minute online live dialogue via Instagram.
Instagram - @greggvemery
