Creatively, I consider myself a blue-collar artist. I did not go to a fancy art school or leverage a Yale MFA for the golden ticket into the art world. I make my art as part of my every day life. I sympathize with the every day workers specifically in the creative field. Right now there is a writer’s and an actor‘s strike in Hollywood, something that I personally support. In a larger sense, I am a supporter of unions protecting the rights of workers.
Recently, I joined a union myself. Not a worker’s union per se, though some might consider it an art workers union. I recently joined an online group, called the Union of International Mail Artists. This group has been active for decades, and centers on the sharing of artwork via the Postal Service. Their credo aligns perfectly with how I feel personally about my art. I believe in sharing freely and I really enjoy when art has no financial entanglements attached to it. The main activity of being a member of this group is finding mailing addresses of members on the UIOMA website and then sending these members artwork through the mail. It has been a satisfying endeavor so far for me, sending out my handmade postcards to strangers around the world. Perhaps even more satisfying is having random pieces of art show up in my mailbox on my front porch from time to time.
There is a subversive anti-establishment streak that permeates this group that appeals to my own small version of fighting the system. Sometimes finding like-minded people out there in the world is all a person needs to be reminded that they are not alone, and that they are on the right path.
The union forever!
(My) Art and Money Don't Mix
I’ve been treading lightly in regards to selling my work. The truth is, most people don’t buy art. They don’t value art. They don’t see a place for art in their homes, in their lives. Money for rent, for a car, for food, for health insurance, for a vacation, for drugs… all on the list way ahead of art. Still, we live in this god forsaken capitalist society, where everything (and everyone) has a price tag. To be an artist in this environment is a challenge. To keep the dirty concept of money out of my art has been a struggle. I don’t make might art to make money. I’ll do it anyway. But… material costs money. Internet and websites cost money. My studio (a luxury, I know) costs money. Hanging a show costs money. Prints and frames and promotion cost money. Again, sales of artwork are few and far between. And yet… I can’t deny that it is nice to make a sale every now and then. It is validation, for sure. Someone likes your work enough to pay for it. To hang it in their home. To live with it. I don’t want to be motivated be profit, or greed, or even breaking even. But somedays (like today) it is hard. Hard to justify making work to sell. Hoping to move a few framed photos. The adage that “nobody cares about your work” still is a tough thing to hear and every now and then, you get a stiff reminder of the truth in the statement. I have been working on adjusting my attitude towards “selling” and I am trying to divorce myself completely from the expectation of getting money for something that comes from so deep inside of my soul. The art vs. commerce dilemma is nothing new, but it’s jarring when the sludge of money creeps into my process. How do you feel?
Fourth of July
New Jersey vibes for this holiday.
Manifesto
A few months back I wrote up a list of my creative beliefs. These were relevant only to me, and only for that given moment. The more I sat with the list, and let it gestate, the more I liked it as a sort of ad hoc manifesto. You know, all the great movements seem to have a manifesto. Karl Marx had his; Martin Luther nailed his to the church door. The Situationists, the Dadaists… hell, even my therapist helped me focus on a Dharma code…a spiritual, intention focussing manifesto, so to speak.
I have this current manifesto stuck to my studio wall, and also have it as my laptop wallpaper, so I look at it on a regular basis. I incorporated different influences; some from improv, some from my therapy, some from my art studies, and some from my rage and depression (if I’m being 100% transparent, which I am…)
I thought I’d share it here, in hopes that it pushes you, dear reader, to consider your own creative, personal, expressive values.
Some thoughts on each:
“Inactivity is not laziness.” There is great value in doing nothing, and if given the time and space, to do nothing for as long as possible.
“Destruction is creation.” I cribbed this from Picasso, thought I think it is a biblical idiom originally. It really rings true for me, especially in regards to my art practice over the past couple of years.
“Give things away.” Sharing my thoughts, my words, my blog, my podcast, my zines, my photos is an integral part of my interaction with my muse and with my world.
“Expect no reward.” Money, fame, and validation are all fine and good, but I try to create (and to live) with no expectations of profit, monetary or otherwise.
“Expect no audience.” No one gives a shit about you and your artwork. Make it anyway.
“Make boredom valuable.” Much of life is underwhelming, if not outright mind-numbing drudgery. Use this reality as fodder for thinking of things to create.
“Make something every day.” Take a photo, write a note, sing a song, bake a loaf of bread. One creative act a day keeps the wolves at bay.
“Remain curious.” Hard to be bored when there is wonder all around you.
“Say ‘Yes, and…’’ ” As in improv, so in life. Agree and add to other ideas. Saying “no” ends all potential immediately.
“Be the ‘you’ the world needs.” A bit woo woo, a bit snowflakey, but I don’t care. You were born, you’ll die. Be the best version of yourself you can be.
“Live until you die.” Like they say in Shawshank Redemption…. Didn’t realize it was a Stephen King quote.
feel free to snag this image for yourself…
Stonehenge Southwest
Exploring the wonders of southwestern New Mexico always brings to my favorite place, City of Rocks State Park. It is a geological wonder, as if Stonehenge emerged naturally in the lonely desert instead of the plains of England. Setting up camp for a few nights allowed ample time for exploring, and of course, making photographs. Douglas Coupland once wrote a book “Polaroid from the Dead”; I’ll call this little set of images “Polaroids from the Rocks.”
Blue Line Swinger: a short film
I took a trip to Marfa, Texas back in March. It is one of my favorite places to visit. There is something about the wide open spaces of the high desert of West Texas, mixed with the artistic, bohemian vibe that speaks to me. I am comfortable there. I popped a hit of sunshine and wandered the empty streets as the sun started its descent to the western horizon. This film was shot on my grandfather's old 8mm magazine camera. It was basically a test roll to see if it still worked. Lo and behold... Music by Yo La Tengo, used with only the utmost honor and respect.
Enjoy The Silence
With family, work, art and performances taking up so much bandwidth, I finally have some time with “nothing much going on.” Which has it’s own challenges, to be sure. We humans like to be busy, or do we like to be lazy but are forced to be busy? Not sure if this drive is intrinsic in our DNA or if it is the result of some Christian work ethic (what is the source of the seven deadly sins, after all?) but it is the twin poles of an ongoing existential dilemma for me. Quiet times open the door for introspection, which opens the door for melancholy, which opens the door for depression. But the other side of that coin is overwork, over stress, tension, anxiety…and a desire to break free of all responsibility. So where is the middle ground? I have been trying hard to be at peace with the “in between” times, the silence, the quiet, the time of not much happening. Maybe there is some Buddhist tome that would explain it all to me. Maybe it’s just the burden of having a brain that never turns off, even when it is at rest. For now, I’ll just try to BE. Enjoy the silence.
For Immediate Release
Albuquerque, NM - Local artist and photographer Nick Tauro Jr. is set to showcase his latest collection of images at Chatter, a vibrant cultural hub in the heart of Albuquerque. The exhibition, titled "Cinema De Mes Reves," (Cinema of My Dreams) will open to the public on Friday May 5, 2023 and run through the end of June 2023.
Regarding the "Cinema De Mes Reves” work Tauro said: “This series is a tribute to my love of cinema, especially the work of the French New Wave, as exemplified by François Truffaut, Agnes Varda and Jean-Luc Godard. Using found film footage as a launching point for my artwork, I re-photograph, manipulate and collage everything from the opening film leaders to the end titles. It makes for a fertile visual playground that bridges the gap between still photography and moving images.”
The opening reception for "Cinema De Mes Reves” will take place at the Chatter Performance and Art Space on May 5th from 7:00 pm to 9:00 pm. Attendees will have the opportunity to meet the artist at this time. Following the reception, Chatter will present a concert as part of their monthly series Late Works, starting at 9pm.
Chatter, located at 912 3rd Street NW in Albuquerque, is a unique space that combines live chamber music, art, and poetry to create a dynamic cultural experience. The venue hosts performances every weekend of the year, as well as special First Friday concerts with the “Late Works” series.
"Cinema De Mes Reves” promises to be a captivating and thought-provoking exhibition that will inspire visitors to consider their own relationship with the arts of cinema and photography.
For more information on the exhibition and opening reception, please visit the website www.nicktaurojr.com. More information about Chatter and tickets to the Late Works show are available at www.chatterabq.org
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Cinéma de Mes Rêves
Hello friends, I am proud to share my newest art project with you today. My fascination with photographic images has always run parallel with my love of moving images. To that end, over the past year or so, I have been exploring an archive of public domain movies. I have been photographing the source material, and then manipulating the images, creating a final quadtych. Each moment of the film becomes a departure point for me to apply my own narrative via dialogue subtitles. The aesthetic of foreign cinema, specifically the French New Wave has heavily influenced my creation of this body of work. Each individual card is meant to be a singular piece, but by sharing the set in a unbound manner I invite the viewer to create their own sequence of images. Perhaps a new story will result every time the cards are rearranged. This project is a "cinema of my dreams" and I am happy to share it with you today. Each set is 23 cards, with a bellyband, housed in a DVD case, featuring custom cover art, front and back. Signed and numbered. Cost is $25 plus shipping (US and Canada Only) Click on the button below to go to my online store!
Jetty Jacks and Futility
Along the Rio Grande in Albuquerque is the wild, wooded bosque. This buffer of land has traditionally acted as a flood zone, at the mercy of the rainfall and erosion that naturally occurs in these parts. Decades ago, an anti-flooding scheme was developed by the Army Corps of Engineers; an attempt to create some kind of defense to the whims of nature. Thus, much of the bosque is littered with these oversized steel and wire objects, known locally, affectionately as “jetty jacks.” There is an official name for them, I’m sure. I prefer the colloquial name, though. They acts as a sort of found sculpture for hikers and bikers along the river. They also remind me of something you might see along the front lines of a war zone ( in my mind it would be WW2, but I’m guess the war in Ukraine might be relevant as well.) The attempt to have the banks of the river conform to this kind of control may seem futile. Another thing that seems futile is my ongoing attempt at trying to create a good photograph of these jetty jacks. I’ve attempted dozens of times, and each time I fail to capture the essence of these metal beasts that dot the landscape near the river. I have yet to find a way to capture the scale, the geometry, the complexity and the oddity of these objects in their environment. I tried again today, while out on a (hopeful) mood shifting walk; see attempt above. Maybe this white whale will elude me forever. I’m sure to keep trying nonetheless, even if it is just an exercise in futility.