At the end of the day I always feel that I’m short of what I wanted to achieve. The paintings are a struggle to try to get to work. To some extent they often fall short of my aspirations. That’s what keeps you going. You start on the next one because you always feel that you might get closer to this goal of the ideal painting. Sometimes you see it. Or you see other art that inspires you and you come back to the studio and think, ‘Oh, my work is so dull,’ so you try and improve.
– Glenn Brown, interviewed in Art in America, April, 2009.
Thanks to Casey Trittipio for this lovely detail shot from my show:
Show Info: Debora Miller’s installation I’m Not Me, She’s Over There, and its companion outdoor piece Horizon Grid (viewable 24/7), is up until February 22nd at Susan Hensel Gallery. Open Mondays 10-5, and by generous appointments.
Guest Artist today: Joe Miller 4:
Untitled Photograph, Joe Miller 4, January 13, 2013
Sometimes I am the recipient of my father’s photographic musings. We have a sort of running conversation going. I am often surprised by his eye, and my assumptions about how he might see. Here, a wing from his return flight after my opening- a delightful splash of light.
Show Info: I’m Not Me, She’s Over There, and its companion outdoor piece Horizon Grid (viewable 24/7), is up until February 22nd at Susan Hensel Gallery. Open Mondays 10-5, and by generous appointments.
Joe Miller & Me, In Front of Isle Joy, photo by Emilie Liepa
My Dad was in town for my opening and took some time to properly hang Isle Joy, the painting he made in 1963. That is 50 years ago this year, and the painting is totally lovely and inspiring. Here we are together in front of it, on display in my light-filled studio.
Reb & Deb, Resting by Joe Miller, January 12, 2013
My show, I’m Not Me, She’s Over There, is a result of an ongoing project first conceived in 2006. In this exhibit I have been able to explore my interest in alternative presentation of photography to create a totally unique environment. The viewer is able to experience my photography in various ways; projection, immersive environment, intimate peepholes, backlit transparency, and the transformation of the exterior windows as massive light boxes – a public art component that shifts as the daylight comes and goes and nighttime rules the light.
I want to give a big shout out to the following great folks that helped make the exhibit come together in the final push:
Karen, Mala, Beth, Crystal, Andy, Roan, James, Julia, Corey, Emilie, Dad, Reb and Susan.
Isle Joy by Joe Miller, 1963
This painting was just gifted to me by my cousins on my mother’s side (thank you!). It was painted by my father in the early 1960’s. It is a fanciful depiction of Manhattan, and lived in the Manhattan apartment of my Godmother, Great Aunt Agnes for decades. It is beautiful.
There are ways it is showing its age – a loose canvas, and paint missing in spots:
I talked to my Dad about this painting and sent him photos. He remembers it well, including the title; this even though it was painted before I was born. He was delighted to see it again, and that it will be handed down to his grandson Roan someday. He remarked that it seems like an earlier iteration of his ‘Salish Sea’ work, and I quite agree.
We discussed repair, and he wants to let it fulfill its cycle. He had some ideas of why it has lost some paint and has a loose canvas- experience and good linen makes a difference. He said he thinks it would ruin the painting to effect a repair- destroying the honest sharpness that shows through to the canvas below. Art too has a life cycle, and this painting is nearly 50 years into it. I love it just the way it is!
West Out of Chicago Midway at Sunrise, November 2012 by Joe Miller IV
Here my father joins the conversation. Of this image he says, “I imagined the Missouri River below somehow creating an inverted topographical map of the river basin below. Not possible, right?”