See you Later

We still have some gorgeous artwork on display...stop by before the end of the month! Like this beautiful collage by Hollie Chastain.

Leaving the Nest

Dear Friends,

After much consideration and a short, but rewarding 4 months, we’ve decided that we have to close up shop. We’d like to thank everyone (especially the art buyers and artists themselves) for their wonderful support. We are leaving the space at the end of the month and the show ‘For the Birds’ will be pulled down on the 28th.

For those of you who have yet to see the space or are still contemplating on a piece in the gallery, please come by or contact directly. 530.272.4154. We're open 11-6 most days. Sundays 12-4.

Timing is everything, as we know. After leasing the space for two years, the Gallery was my last little hope to hold on to it, but it may have been a bit futile. My hope is that I will refocus on my other projects, work from home again and that maybe in the future, I will be able to bring the RED CROW back in a new way.

For those of you who want to continue to follow the artists we’ve carried in the shop, you can still link to the blog and buy from the artists directly.

Here’s to a prosperous and healthy 2009.

Don’t forget to support the arts!

Kindest,

Ingrid Nelson

The Lieutenant General, The Diver, and A Pocket Full of Rye

DoubleParlour Interview

Name: Ernie and Cassandra Velasco aka Doubleparlour
Occupation: Ernie- Artist/Pastry Chef Cassandra- Artist/Pharmacy Technician
Location: San Francisco, CA

How did you first become interested in creating art together?
Our collaboration grew out of the desire to both sell artwork on-line and create work together. We formed Doubleparlour in 2007. We were curious about the effect of creating paintings and prints together where we both shared the process from start to finish.


What do you find most rewarding with the collaborative process?
It is most rewarding being able to bounce ideas off of each other and have someone to critique a work in progress. Each of our individual ideas and approaches to creating vary greatly and at times we inspire or surprise each other. We also balance each other's strengths and weaknesses as far as the business aspects of customer service, shipping, and promotion.


What are your artistic influences?
We are both influenced by nature, human emotions and reasoning, architecture, decay and the irony in everyday life. We also find inspiration from many different artists. Here are a few: Tiffany Bozic, Tara Tucker, Alex Gross, Eva Hesse, Andrew Schoultz, Swoon, and street art.


What have you used/learned from another artist lately?
Well, we would like to give credit to artist John Casey for his polymer clay tutorial on the art and culture website FecalFace. His tutorial described his process of working with polymer clay which lead to our own experiments with this medium which we now embrace.


What are you trying to communicate with your art?
I think we are trying to create a subtle narrative with a sense of mystery. Any one object, conversation, etc can be interpreted in so many different ways.


You do both sculpture and two-dimensional works. How do you decide which
process will work best for your expressions. Do you ever have crossover
characters, ones that end up as both illustration and sculpture?
There have been a few crossover characters between illustration and sculpture, one example is the Shohin character. A Shohin is a small bonsai under 10 inches. See samples here: Sculpture & Illustration . I think for both of us, sometimes the idea dictates the medium and other times the need to create a sculpture or print for a gallery show or our on-line store will fuel the project. Our individual process of creating varies greatly. Ernie delves right into creating a piece once the idea has formed in his head and makes decisions on colors and final composition as he goes along. Cassandra prefers to plan a piece completely beforehand which involves sketches, references and decisions on placement, color and composition.


We just opened the "Bird" show on Valentine's Day and people were immediately drawn to the 3 sculptures we have here in the Gallery (see photos above). Could you tell us a little about how you make them?
All three pieces are made of polymer clay which is hand formed and baked at a low temperature. They are then finished with acrylic paint and matte and/or gloss varnish. Some of the pieces are mixed media incorporating such items as twigs, antique doll parts, antique keys and architectural elements, and railroad miniatures.


I think what draws me in most to your work is the sense of CHARACTER there. One gets the feeling that there are individual stories behind the pieces. Small fictions that accompany "the Diver" and "Hoagie" for example. I'm curious if you have a personality in mind when you create them, or does this form after the creation?
We do enjoy creating characters and that usually begins with a idea and basic form. A lot of times it is a matter of putting different elements together to create a piece. I think the story grows our of the character's development as it is being created. Usually there are parts of a story in each piece of artwork, like a movie without an ending. We like to leave some of the interpretation to the viewer. The Hoagie character was inspired by the wondrous world of Edward Gorey's characters. Hoagie is meant to be a somewhat odd and contemplative creature. He is like one of those people who don't need the approval of others yet whose gentle nature make them quite likable. People always try to guess what Hoagie is, some comments we've heard is that he looks like a worm, pickle or seal, or a character from Eraser Head movie.


How important is humor in your work?
Although it is not an aspect of all of our work, it is very important sometimes in order to express hidden meanings or to just have fun with the work. With art, the beauty of it is that it doesn't have to make sense. This is part of what allows viewer interpretation.


My favorite piece that we have here at the shop is 'The Diver'. How did this particular character come about?
Ernie created the Diver while imagining how it would appear as a large sculpture in a public space, if the miniatures where scaled to human size. There is also the small human figures in the cave. What are they running from or to and what is the relationship with the albatross? We will leave the answers to the viewer, it is nice to create a sense of mystery.


You both have 'Regular' jobs outside making artwork. What influence does your daily life play in your creation process?
Well, it does eat up a lot of time that could be spent creating. Really, both of our regular jobs are completely separate life from creating artwork. Although, some ideas for projects do form out of activities or conversations from work.

And our completely RANDOM question to end it all: In honor of our love of
poetry and posting here at the crow bulletin board. What is your favorite
poem of all time (to each of you individually)?
Ernie-
Dorothy Parker's "Resume"
Cassandra-
T.S. Eliot "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

Dorthy Parker and TS Eliot

Résumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

By Dorthy Parker
1893-1967


The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock


S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.


T.S. Eliot
(1888–1965). Prufrock and Other Observations. 1917.