This I remember. Wish I had managed to buy a piece.
Ghost wolves and human skulls, what’s not to love.
From August 16, 1989. – JDW
Canyon #7 by Ken Weeks
Artists, by their free expressions, encourage others to be free. This is the quality that makes works of art enduring. ― Marty Rubin
“It is not the function of art to wallow in dirt for dirt’s sake, never its task to paint men only in states of decay, to draw cretins as the symbol of motherhood, to picture hunchbacked idiots as representatives of manly strength…. Art must be the handmaiden of sublimity and thus promote whatever is natural and healthy. If art does not do this, then any money spent on it is squandered.”
For those of you out in ReaderLand shaking your heads north-and-south in agreement, please be advised the above quotation is not the handiwork of noted Art critic Senator Jesse Helms (Redneck – N.C.) No, not The Jesse. Adolf Hitler said it in 1935.
There is something very disconcerting, very chilling, even frightening… something very wrong with Mr. Helms’ proposed legislation to prohibit federal funding for certain types of art deemed “obscene or indecent.”
I personally cannot recall ever agreeing with the Senator about anything.
Don’t see myself concurring with his opinions regarding good art or bad, obscene or indecent.
To me, obscene is the six hundred and fifty dollars ($650.00 U.S.) the savings & loan bailout will cost every man, woman and child in these United States of America.
I’ve never even been inside an S&L. And I certainly don’t have an extra $650 to spare. How about you?
To me, indecent is – wait for it – the entire budget of the National Endowment For The Arts is less than the cost of one-third of a B-2 Stealth bomber.
Obscene is a convicted sex offender still representing Ohioans in the House of Representatives. Indecent is yet another attempt at a Congressional pay raise, when there is so little effort made to help the homeless, the poor, the abused, the ill. The forgotten.
And just when I was getting more than a little depressed about brown-shirted legislators invading the art world, FIRST THURSDAY came rolling ’round again. This art walk/celebration seems the only party I get invited to, and it raises my spirits like an unexpected check in the mail.
If FIRST THURSDAY did nothing more than remind us the world’s most beautiful women live in Portland, it would still be a grand evening. If only it didn’t end at nine.
For me the highlight was the Ken Weeks showing at the Elizabeth Leach Gallery (207 S.W. Pine). His paintings not only speak to me, they make a great deal of sense.
This is not the retro-flaccid-bourgeois realism propounded by Jesse Helms. Rather it’s hot avante garde Western modernism. POW!
Weeks has a daytime gig as a professor at Portland Community College. His field of expertise is art history and he has little formal training as an artist. He doesn’t see that as much as a handicap.
“You can always teach yourself to do something if you have something to say,” Weeks states. “If you have strong ideas and feelings, you can teach yourself.”
ATTENTION. AUTHOR’S MESSAGE. “If you have strong ideas and feelings, you can teach yourself.”
Weeks uses paint and mixed media on Japanese rice paper to produce vivid modern landscapes that express his vision of the spirit world that surrounds us.
There’s a reverence, even awe, for the great outdoors that begins where the pavement ends.
I confess: I don’t know diddley-squat about the fine arts. I can recognize the sculpture of Manuel Izquierdo. I can tell the difference between a Michelle Russo and a Gregory Grenon.
Greg’s have eyes.
Still, when Ken Weeks starts talking – hands active, arms waving – about his art. I find myself actually understanding what he’s up to. He must be a helluva teacher.
He doesn’t too much care to pin down the conceptual. He presents ambiguity at a variety of levels.
“It’s important what YOU bring to my work,” says Weeks. “I see it as a stage somewhere, with characters.”
The artists coaxes out of each viewer a fresh understanding. It’s right there in the frame… you decide what it means.
Okay, I’ll shoot. The work is colorful, yet not frivolous. The images are powerful. The scenery primarily desert. It’s the Southwest of Arizona and the Canyon Series’ leading actor is the Wolf. So, the paintings speak of mortality.
Weeks is middle-aged and the stark desolation of cactusville makes him reflective.
The wild dog speaks to our relationship with carnivores. To visualize the life’s breath of nature, you must become one with your world.
You must become one with your world.
“My work is about the advocacy of space, the power of space,” Weeks points out. “I am trying to illuminate God.”
I see Ken Weeks as something as a shaman. He could be channeling through his brushes the wisdom of an ancient medicine man.
He sees The West as an animal might see it. Says Weeks, “A lot of people in Portland have the same relationship with Nature that I do.”
Strange. It’s easier for Weeks to paint the truth about the land and the sky and the beasts that inhabit them… than for me to explain how he does it.
You don’t have to be a painter or even an artist to appreciate Weeks’ philosophy.
Be honest.
Be honest to yourself and your work.
Strive to keep your work active, vital.
Trust your feelings.
And, remember the past.
If only Jesse Helms had enough sense to do the same.