Fezziwig Press & Photography by Stu Jenks

"Hoop Dancing" is here!!!

My long-awaited (at least to me) book "Hoop Dancing: More Journeys Through Nocturnal Photography" is now available. Simply click on the above link and it will take you to my website, where there are instructions on how to purchase it. I'm very proud of the book and very happy with the quality of the lithography. And many, many thanks to Gail Cross, master book designer, for her beautiful work, for her guidance on the bumpy road of publishing, and for her continued encouragement, as we prepare to print more good books at the newly formed Fezziwig Press publishing house. And of course, thanks to all of the supporters of my art, my photography, my writing and my life. Both well-known and virtually anonymous; both those with money and hope, and those who only have the gift of Love and Song to give. I thank you.

Love, Light, and Luck,

Stu

P.S. All books will be shipped Priority Mail, now and forever, so needless to say, I can get copies to you before Christmas. And a Happy New Decade to everyone as well.

[Image: "Hoop Dancing at Studio BR-549, Tucson, Arizona" (c) 2009 Stu Jenks]

"And then I began to see..."

"And then I began to see...", A press check of a signature of "Hoop Dancing", at Arizona Lithography, Tucson, Arizona (c) Fall 2009 Stu Jenks.

["Hoop Dancing", the book, should be available for shipment upon my return from Chicago. Go to my website at www.stujenks.com to order the book. And may all of you have a Happy Thanksgiving.]

(Meditation for the day: "It is what it is, and it ain't what it ain't")

"Beaufort, South Carolina" by Robert Frank

"Beaufort, South Carolina, 1955" (detail) by Robert Frank

[Taken by me at the MOCA in Downtown Los Angeles in September. I had permission. Sadly, the images from "The Americans" series were very poorly lit, not like the same images I saw in August, at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. There, they were exquisitely lit. This, and others in the series are perfect photographs: The woman's radiant face, the sun behind her, the light pole that echos the Cross. Perfect. Other memories from MOCA: LA that day, were a class of tweens taking a tour of the museum and having their teacher or a docent tell them that the poorly-crafted, arrogant, nightmares-on-a-wall they were seeing, were actually good paintings. The look on the kids' faces was priceless. Remember, it was a child who told the townspeople that the Emperor had no clothes on. Sadly, the schoolkids weren't in the room with "The Americans." I bet they would have looks of awe on their faces, not wrinkled-up noses. Hopefully they got to see them before they left.]

"When people look at my pictures I want them to feel the way they do when they want to read a line of a poem twice." - Robert Frank.

"Our Lady of the Rosary: For my mother Mary"

 "Our Lady of the Rosary Church, Little Italy, San Diego, California" (For my mother Mary) (c) 2009 Stu Jenks

[Chapter who-knows-what from the book "Dementia Blues]

    Jessica, the nurse, changes Mom’s diaper as I watch. Mary almost fell out of bed, just minutes before my visit.
    “Oh, Stu. I don’t know what is going on!”
    “I know, Mom. You almost fell out of bed.”
    “No, I didn’t!”
    “Yes, you did, Mary,” Jessica says, gently.
    “Yes. You did, Mom. But it’s OK that you don’t remember,” I say.
    Mary is suffering. Every old ache and pain is brand new, no matter that most are decades old. Her bedroom is forever unfamiliar, in spite of the old prints and needlepoints on the wall that she has owned for years. She often thinks she needs to do something, but she doesn’t know what that something is. I tell her often that this is where she has lived for almost a year. She is surprised every time.
    Later, I just talk about my day; her, laying in her hosital bed, me, sitting on a ancient wooden chair we brought from Virginia. Many days, my chatting about my life is plenty for her. She loves to hear me talk about this and that. She often responds with an “Oh, that’s good.” or “I know you miss your friend so” or  “You know I love you.” Today was “You look so beautiful to me.” But that didn’t last. The light in her eye changes, replaced with the haunted stare of suffering, confusion, and fear of being in a world, a house, a room, a bed, that is perpetually strange to you. The only joy today is that she know me, knows her son loves her, knows that he is here with her, right here, right now.
    I unhinge the gate and walk to my car: thinking, that if Mary lives more than six months to a year, I’m going to be pretty pissed off at God. I know the dementia isn’t God’s fault. That God doesn’t let suffering end, or let Mom die, just because I want it to be so. But God? Christ! Throw the old lady a bone!  And guide me daily in what I need to do and not do with my mother. And if you can, take her. Please take her. In her sleep would be nice, but I don’t care how anymore. Just take her. Soon. Please.
   


   

Artist's Talk for "@1w/"

[Photograph of yours truly, taken by Annie Gordon, at the Artist's Talk for my show "@1w/". This show runs for another week at the Tucson Jewish Community Center. Thanks to all who came to the opening, to all who came to see it at other times, and to all of y'all, for your help along the way.]

"At One With" [@1w/]: Opening this Thursday at TJCC

"@1w/" [At One With]: Opening this Thurday at TJCC

This Thursday, October 1st, from 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm at the Tucson Jewish Community Center at River and Dodge, I'll be having a little art party; an opening, a gathering of good folk, with sweets and all, to celebrate my new show "@1w/: At One With". I would love to see you there. A little art talk will be happening around 7. Below is the Artist Statement from the show. Come if you can. I'll have a big hug waiting for you (and some rugalah too.) See you soon.

Love, light, and luck,

Stu

“@1w/”
[At One With]
by Stu Jenks,
High Holy Days, 2009.


    With the High Holy Days and the Day of Atonement upon us, I thought about what the word “Atonement’ meant to me. To make amends with G-D. [Maybe.] To make right and correct the harms I’ve done to the people in my life. [Absolutely.] To forgive others. [Yes.] To forgive myself. [Harder to do.]
    The original Middle English words, for Yom Kipper were ‘At Onement”, meaning to be in harmony with G-D and his community. I thought about my own work, and saw, that on one level, that is just what I’m trying to do. I go to these places: the mountains, the deserts, the sea. I bring along Zippo lighters, Hula Hoops with Christmas lights, and small inflatable Bozos, to create a bit of magic, mystery and humor in these landscapes. But I always try to be ‘At-One-With” these places, to not impose myself so greatly as to harm or mock the land, to come with some reverence, even when I’m throwing a miniature Bozo punching bag in the air near some ancient petroglyphs.
    And then, like the mystic who travels deep into the forest to find a vision, not for himself primarily but for his people, I bring the images of the Hoop Dances, the Flames Spirals, the Bozos back to town, and display them for the community, showing the people the wonders I’ve found.
    And perhaps, by going on these lone spiritual sojourns into the wild, I am a better man: A man who will continue to make amends for his wrongs, and maybe, just maybe, becomes a less harmful, more loving and kinder human being.
   

"Labyrinth at Mavericks"

"Labyrinth at Mavericks, Half Moon Bay, California" (c) 2009 Stu Jenks

"An Open Circle for Metanexus"

"An Open Circle":
For the 10th Annual Conference of the Metanexus Institute, July 18th-21st, 2009, Tempe, Arizona
(c) 2009 Stu Jenks

"Sergei Isupov at Mesa Contemporary Arts, and The Tucson Summer Art Cruise"

"Sergei Isupov at Mesa Contemporary Arts and The Tucson Summer Art Cruise" (c) Stu Jenks 2009   

    This is going to get me in trouble again. My reputation as being "The Hunter S.Thompson of the Tucson Art Scene" (Yes, someone called me that.) will be firmly cemented after this post. Might as well live up to my press.
    Last night, Tucson had its yearly Summer Art Cruise, a night when most of the downtown art galleries opened their doors. I did see some very good organic bronzes at one gallery, some fine, emotionally-dark, paper-mache sculptures of dogs and birds at another, a couple elegant black and white photographs at yet another gallery and a few good Van Goah-esque paintings of interiors at a gallery on the corner, but mostly it was the usual stuff. As a woman I walked the Cruise with last night said, "Nothing here is absolutely horrible." It was said as a compliment.
    It took a while but I felt despondent when I got home to my apartment last night, once again for the sorry state of the Arts in general, and, in specific, the state of the Arts in Tucson. The frivolous, petty fight between the Modernists and the Contemporaries. The new paradigm that it appears to be, if you have little talent, vision or skill, be a bad photographer. The continuing and apparent never-ending parade of paintings about the artist's really shitty childhood. (Please, please, just get some therapy.) A woman doing a performance piece in French in a Spanish-speaking town. I'm assuming it was her native language, but none of us knew what the fuck she was so upset about! This is Tucson, not Quebec!
    This morning I was still a mess. I'm quitting a perfectly good dayjob, to immerse myself deeper into the Art World? Have I lost my mind? Much less, I'll be trying to make enough coin to pay the rent. I'm either screwed, an idiot, or both.
    Then I remembered this artist I saw in a book of Dana's: An amazing ceramicist and painter, and he's having a one man show in Mesa, Arizona, a Mormon city, just two hours north of Tucson. I took the drive. I'm sure glad I did.
    It's not really about the state of the Arts, is it? It's just about me seeing far too much Bad or Mediocre Art. I need my Art to be Fine, to be made with great skill, to have a single yet universal vision, to express the very warm soul of a very alive artist, and to have that little special something that no art critic can accurately articulate. That's because it is a Mystery. Sergei Isupov's huge ceramic heads fulfill all of the above, in spades.
    And to add to my joy, it was Free-Sunday at Mesa Contemporary Arts. Sweet.
    The show runs to the middle of August, I think. You can find times and directions online. It is worth the $3.50 that you'll have to pay, if you don't go on Free Sunday.
    Lastly, I was particularly moved by "Invisible Man", a piece featured at the top of this post. The JPEGs don't even come close to representing its power. Go see it in person, if you happen to be visiting The Surface Of The Sun, in the next couple of months.
    Postscript: To the great Fine Artists in Tucson. (J., D., J., C., T., B., J., S., J., A., C., B., R., S., etc.) Keep plugging away and remember that great quote by Picasso, an major league jerk but a great artist none the less. "When inspiration comes, I hope she finds me working." 

"Chihuly at Desert Botanical Gardens, Phoenix, Arizona"

"Chihuly at Desert Botanical Gardens, Phoenix, Arizona" (c) 2009 Team Chihuly and Stu Jenks

I know it's not a very spiritual/nice thing to do to make fun of others' ignorance but I can't help myself. Here are a few quotes I overheard while seeing the Dale Chihuly show in Phoenix.

"That's not blowing! That looks like a rock," said a annoyed white woman, viewing a floating piece of glass (that was creating by blowing glass into a mold, by the way.)

"It's amazing that he can do this with just one eye," said an older white woman, not knowing that there is a Team Chihuly, not just Dale alone. I cut her some major slack for not knowing about Team Chihuly, but it did make me laugh anyway.

I mention the above people's race for I saw not one single Chicano person in the three hours I spent at the Desert Botanical Gardens. No Blacks either, and only one Native American woman. Phoenix is a very rich, white city in some places, and very poor one for people of color in other places. (And some whites too.) I was in one of the rich parts of The Valley. Nevertheless, it was a very cool Chihuly show and I enjoyed our time there. Mostly.

My favorite pieces were the floating blue pieces, the signature piece, "The Sun", as you first enter the Gardens, and the tall radical tower of yellow neon, called by an attractive woman to my left, "The Big Yellow Penis." Yea, boy. She got that right. Dale does have a big creative dick, and we are all happy he does.