She 'Paints' Pictures, You Just Trace Her

When we were in college my friend Justine Reyes would paint these achingly lovely, pastoral scenes of forlorn figures with drooping eyes, on snatches of unstretched canvas.

Hard to describe, but imagine Henri Matisse commissioned to illustrate the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" series.

I've met many 'artists' over the years, but she is a true artist in the anachronistic sense. If you've ever been to Paris and visited the Montmartre district, with those winding roads, where struggling Van Gogh, Monet and others kept cramped studios, you'll understand.

There's nothing of the dilettante, rather she conquers whatever medium she's selected through a mix of innate creativity and rigorous training. Her photography, which is the focus of her personal and professional output, has a painterly quality.

Perhaps never more so than in her recent series, Vanitas, which references the 16th and 17th C. Dutch Masters. But the objects are gathered from personal effects.

You can catch a glimpse at Affirmation Arts, where her work is on view as part of the fresh group show 31 Women in Art Photography, co-presented by Humble Arts. (Through April 10.)

Still life paintings representative of Vanitas--Latin for "emptiness"--often incorporated skulls or rotting fruit and other objects meant to serve as commentary on the fleeting quality of life and life's pleasures.

(Pictured, "Still Life With Suitcase," and "Still Life With Banana, Purse and Change," Vanitas, 2009, courtesy of the artist. Nice work to amani olu.)

My Name Is Earl

Earl Nightingale that is.







The "dean of personal development". I largely tend to think the mainstream, latter-day self-help, tell-me-a-Secret, eat, pray, love your way out of it movement is a racket, lacking in purity. (With five fingers' worth of exceptions.) But ol' Earl, like Florence Scovel Shinn, precedes all of that. As with many life-enhancing lessons, I got put on by a friend.

Group Therapy

We're like "Kids" again every time my photog friend J.R. convenes Art Class on a random Sunday. Word to MGMT, the energy is straight back-to-school: crayons and Cray-Pas, paints and paper, and, during this latest edition, suds and salsa.

What began more than a year ago for and at the downtown apartment of another friend, J.A., soon blossomed into group sessions.

The regulars are complemented by a rotation of guest pupils: photographers, painters, clothing and graphic designers, graffiti artists, cultural taste-makers...

J.R. is a new recipient of the prestigious LMCC grant, so we took class on the road to her spacious studio, where J.A. proved she's in her Blue Period, sketching a masterpiece under our noses in her personal pad. Oh, you think I'm kidding?

We make masterpieces here, lol. Reveling in the the waxy scent of Crayolas, the smeared goodness of Cray-Pas, we come to group, make art, and take only what we need from it.

(Oh, Good Afternoon, Leroy Jenkins; photo courtesy of Jane Aiello)

Let Me Ride

This past weekend marked the closing of the Queens Museum of Art's Q14 group exhibit. The museum, just a stone's throw from the temple-like CitiField, hosted eye-catching pieces by young artists living or working in Queens, from the superb photographer Justine Reyes, who showed part of her ongoing "Guayabera" portrait series, to Ryan Humphrey, whose "Fast Forward" (2009, DCKT Contemporary) featured 100-foot bike ramps mounted inside the museum and real bike pros doing demos on them, as well as artfully painted dirt bikes hanging on the facing wall like fine art.

Because the QMA knows how to throw a party on a sunny day, there was food, drinks, Mister Softee, and free bike and boat rentals. Of course, I had to get on, but not before stopping to admire the fresh bikes (a mini garden, a stocked pantry, and gleaming chrome were just a few of the attractions built onto bicycles). And the Indo-Caribbean bike gang from Richmond Hill, parked on tricked-out lowriders and giving the gangster glare? Not so menacing once you realized they were packing bike locks not heat. If you're one of those people whose mantra when it comes to art is, "Brooklyn Everyday," you should hop the 7 train soon.