Street Level

10May12

Galen Cheney detours us away from any expected niceties and motors us straight to the gritty and raw levels of the streets, be they our internal, external, peaceful and/or chaotic spaces. Cheney’s current exhibit Street Level at BCA in Burlington, Vermont, includes the multi-layered, graffiti style abstract pathways of Street Fair, which can be reminiscent of NYC street art in the 1970’s and 80’s.

Galen Cheney, Street Fair, 2011, mixed media on birch panels

Born in Los Angeles but showing her New England roots through the use of birch panels, Cheney separates and positions these panels in Cross Town and Lariat (lasso type rope) that reveal the disconnections and flow of a city’s accessibility for or from it’s inhabitants. One city and countless ways to move around it or get stuck within it. Cheney inscribes ancient letterforms in urban settings and includes 19th and early 20th century calligraphic lettering, which in some places pop out or hide out among the high-energy spaces of the paintings.

The brilliant colors and labyrinth-style paths, the eyes try to follow, express the vibrancy of a highly alert state. If one is sleeping will they fall off the Dr. Seuss-like striped highways?

In the Calligraffiti paintings there’s interconnectivity among the tubular shapes that do not appear to be constrictive. In them Cheney develops her own curvaceous alphabet.

Galen Cheney, Calligraffiti 1, 2 & 3, 2012, oil on birch panels

Galen Cheney, Periscope, 2012, oil on birch panel

The artist describes her work as having it’s “own energy and direction almost apart from [herself]”. When viewing the external scenes, and possibly internal ever-negotiating psyche in pieces such as Periscope, Street Level journeys us out of any lazy-boy cushioned bubble we may live in when we walk through it.

Galen Cheney is a Vermont-based artist. Street Level is on exhibit at BCA until June 23rd. Cheney is currently co-curating Natural Constructed Spaces at The Painting Center in New York City.


My Human Being

21Feb12

Conceptual artist Rebecca Weisman inserts herself into the landscape of her art in My Human Being, which is currently on exhibit at the Julian Scott Gallery, Johnson State College, in Vermont until March 10th. With 3 simple words, My Human Being, Weisman investigates our changing environment and how one tries to both capture and let go of time and one’s own placement within it. This multi-media installation engages viewers with film imagery that have been 5 years in the making.  The installation encompasses a 5 channel surround sound score that includes white noise, recorded speech and the sound of water dripping onto a microphone. The sounds include a wide range from natural to artificial. Gallery director Leila Bandar finds that “there is a visceral quality to the sound element — a drip, drip, drip, the repetitive clacking, the whale-song sound of syllables stretched”. Bandar asks “What do we see when we hear a drip?”.
Time is a central element that Weisman records, observes, engages with and disrupts with the construction and dissolving of her inscription, My Human Being, made by using the landscapes available raw materials, her body and shovels. Inside the gallery space a fast motion loop filmed in the spring, summer and fall shows the artist creating, on nature’s canvas,  that which can not be preserved. Through these seasons the inscription’s transformations are many, as the letterforms dance with the environmental forces that move upon, around and eventually through them. The installation also includes an outdoor component of My Human Being in winter that, at night, is projected onto a snow wall sculpture that was constructed by Weisman and Johnson State students.  The snow wall also serves as a chronological monument that will gradually melt over time, thereby erasing the projection itself. Through out the exhibit the artist will continue to carve words into a gallery wall and then project back their recordings. Weisman uses the exhibition time and space itself to continue the dialogue of change and reflection.
I personally experienced that My Human Being invited contemplation on how I feel about the passage of time, especially how I stand and move within it, and my responses to time when I am not actively engaged with it but am simply remembering. Ultimately what resonated with me most about this installation are my questions about how I feel and deal with ‘change’ itself.


During Goddard College‘s MFA-IA  2012 winter residency faculty member Ruth Wallen presented “The Gallery as a Site of Meaningful Engagement”, where through her current exhibition Cascading Memorials, at The Athenaeum Music & Arts Library in La Jolla, CA, she takes us through the quickly changing landscape of San Diego county. According to Wallen, an ecological artist, San Diego county has the highest rate of threaten and endangered species in the continental USA. The county has also experienced rapid urbanization with its population surge of 60,000 residents to 3,000,000 in the last 100 years. Wallen offers seven questions or phrases throughout her exhibition. The question “As roots are exposed, what truths are revealed?” is beside an impressive photo montage of tree roots exposed from erosion which spans 6 feet in width. Another query which Wallen poses is “how would we treat canyons if we regarded them as the lungs and circulatory system of [the] San Diego ecosystem? “. A special part of the exhibit is “a place to grieve” memorial where the viewer becomes a participant by sharing a story of their loss within their own home’s ecosystem. Untitled, Ruth Wallen, 2011 Wallen closed her presentation with a quote by Malidome Some in The Healing Wisdom of Africa In indigenous Africa, “one cannot conceive of a community that does not grieve. In my village, people cry every day. Villagers believe that Westerners are afraid of emotion because they are afraid of a loss of control. Until grief is restored in the West as the starting place where the modern man and woman might find peace, the culture will continue to abuse and ignore the power of water, and in turn will be fascinated with fire.”

and her own poetic and powerful words:

“I grieve for the dying trees—trees weakened by drought, infested by beetles and felled by fire. I understand that fire, pestilence and drought are part of ecological cycles that have occurred for millennia, but it is the conflation and acceleration of these pressures caused by climate change and rapid urbanization that concerns me so deeply. I mourn the loss of trees throughout the western forests. I grieve for Hermes coopers, Quino checkerspots, Coastal California gnatcatchers, San Diego fairy shrimp and all of the species, common only fifty years ago, which are now disappearing. I also grieve for missed opportunities. When I first moved to the region, one could walk through the chaparral from I-5 almost all the way to 1-15. It’s hard to believe that the future urbanizing area approved by voters only in 1985 is now almost entirely covered with sprawling homes. Voters mandated that recent developments offer modest improvements–more affordable housing, use of less toxic materials and better energy efficiency. But the visionary planning of the seventies, proposing neighborhood clusters, public transportation and energy efficient homes was largely ignored. Instead of lessening dependence on cars, putting solar panels on rooftops, concentrating development, traditional practices have prevailed, and with escalating real estate prices, home sizes continue to increase. Scientists at UCSD say that we have the technology to drastically reduce green house gas emissions. But many also add that it is already too late to avoid some of the catastrophic effects of climate change. I grieve not only that my daughter will never know the wild spaces of my childhood, long since paved over, but may never experience the full myriad of species and vast richness of western forests. May the moisture of my tears wet hope that we can learn to share the earth’s richness and redefine prosperity so as to create the conditions where all species, from the new seedlings, to disappearing plants and animals, to human beings may flourish.” —Ruth Wallen


Cold Harvest

09Dec11

Some recent work…

Laura Di Piazza, Fence, 2011, mixed media 12" x 24"

Laura Di Piazza, Bunny Says, 2011, mixed media, 27" x 23.5"

Laura Di Piazza, untitled, 2011, ink and acrylic paint on paper, 14" x 17"


Laura Di Piazza, Goodbye, 2011, sumi ink on paper, 14" x 17"

laura Di Piazza, In A Moment, 2011, mixed media, 16" x 20"

Laura Di Piazza, Boiling Pot, 2011, acrylic paint, sumi ink, gouache and paper on canvas, 20" x 24"


Please join me this Thursday 12/8 for a free introductory workshop on Spencerian script at the Kilton Library (80 Main Street, West Lebanon, NH), 6 to 8pm. Supplies will be provided. E-mail, L.dipiazza(at)yahoo (dot)com to reserve a seat.

P.R. Spencer (1800-1864): creator of Spencerian Penmanship


As published on Thread.

Movie Review: Le Havre

By Laura Di Piazza, for Thread Magazine

When you don’t exist, where are you?

Le Havre, written and directed by Finnish filmmaker Aki Kaurismäki, takes place in the French port town of the title name, where Marcel (André Wilms) lives in the margins of society struggling to make ends meet. Marcel is a shoeshiner who brings home his small earnings to his loving wife Arletty (Kati Outinen), who is secretly ill. On what appears to be an ordinary day during his lunch break Marcel encounters a young and frightened boy, an illegal immigrant caught in a media frenzy for his capture, named Idrissa (Blondin Miguel). Marcel, poor in funds but rich in heart, assists Idrissa in reuniting him with his family.

While Arletty is soon after admitted to the hospital and demands that Marcel gives her space and time to heal, Marcel begins his work in helping Idrissa. Allies present themselves in unexpected places. The brilliant Jean-Pierre Darroussin (also featured at Cannes in the 2011 film Les Neiges Du Kilimandjaro), plays the outwardly cold criminal Inspector Monet, who quietly expresses that “I am ruthless toward crime, but I don’t like to see the innocent suffer.”

Director Kaurismäki brilliantly weaves many outsider characters to unite in the effort of doing what’s right in the face of the faceless machines of immigration laws and the misguided media. Kaurismäki does not mask age at all and artistically expresses the characters’ depth and beauty by giving the camera time to take in their essence. Kaurismäki also incorporates the outsider elements subtly, through a song on vinyl (Stateboro Blues) and literature read out loud (Kafka). Perhaps most strikingly captured in Le Havre, is how each person appears to be fully aware and engaged. From the common task of wrapping a package to determining another human being’s fate, all is done with full concentration.

Another observation of departing from mainstream is how Kaurismäki plays with time in regards to fashion. From Idrissa’s Cosby-like 80’s sweater, to Atletty’s special yellow 50’s dress to Inspector Monet’s head to toe black clothing with 70’s wide collars, no one is trendy here (thank heavens). Also refreshing and pleasing to the eye is the stunning work of cinematographer Timo Salminen who reveals rich hues and expresses crisp depth perception. The cinematography has a retro-like quality and cohesion to it that can remind one of the continuity of music on vinyl records as opposed to digital recordings.

The twists and turns of Le Havre are undoubtedly as engaging as getting lost in a new and fascinating city. Kaurismäki turns challenges, like how to raise $3000 Euros quickly for Idrissa’s passage to London, into comical opportunities. The featured ‘trendy charity concert’ is not to be missed. And again it is the not-so-trendy, the otherness, which takes center stage.

One may liken this story to a fairy tale, however if it is believed that most people are good at heart then it is rather a reflection of everyday people following their conscience.

Le Havre was produced by Finnish company Sputnik Oy with co-producers in France and Germany. The film was award the FIPRESCI prize at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival and is Finland’s foreign language Oscar nominee.

Le Havre is featured in the 2011 Vermont International Film Fest.


I’ll be teaching an introduction to copperplate calligraphy workshop this fall at AVA gallery in Lebanon, New Hampshire. See below for the workshop description.  For more information or to register please contact AVA directly.
Introduction to Copperplate Calligraphy workshop at AVA gallery
instructor: Laura Di Piazza
October 26–November 16
Wednesdays, 6:00–8:00pm
Four 2-hour classes
Copperplate calligraphy is a pointed pen hand developed in 17th -century England. We will work with an oblique pen holder, pointed pen nib, India ink and practice pads with grid and slant lines. Our initial focus will be on the amount of pressure applied to our pens to produce thick and thin strokes. We will begin practice with minuscules and later majuscules, which will be grouped according to similar letterforms. All materials will be supplied.

There are many admirers of new beginnings. Somehow another chance to get it right or make it better drives us in new directions or deeper into our current path(s). Seasons give us great inspiration of renewal: to sow, plow, reap and rest – the harvest of our lives.

Laura Di Piazza, It Begins With, 2011, ink on paper, 14″ x 17″


The other day while revisiting the Humanist hand I was reminded (again;) how elegant and uncomplicated this lettering style is.

To the left is a sample of my Humanist hand for a recent document heading. Humanist, also known as Humanist Bookhand and originally litterae antiquae (the “ancient letters”), is an upright rounded hand originally developed in 14th century Italy. The Humanist hand was based on Carolingian minuscule. It was mainly used in academic writing to imitate the writing style of antiquity and was a departure from the more popular black letter/gothic hand of the time.

This is a segment from a late 15th century copy of De Civitate Dei of St Augustine, produced in Italy, probably in Naples (British Library, add. ms. 15246, f.29). (From New Palaeographical Society 1911)

The Humanist hand is lettered with a broad-edge pen nib, as seen below.





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