Harley-Davidson presents:

The Art of Rebellion


One Night Only: February 7th, 2009 7PM - 10PM

Featuring:

Shawn Barber, Christian Clayton, Rob Clayton, Bob Dob, Shepard Fairey, Frank Kozik, Tara McPherson, Alex Pardee, David Trulli, Mark Dean Veca, Oliver Vernon


Each artist was given a gas tank from the latest Harley-Davidson “Sportster 883” motorcycle to use as a canvas for an original work of art.

Portion of proceeds donated to Art Matters.

Limited edition Shepard Fairey poster giveaways.

DJ Open Bar

Robert Berman Gallery

Bergamot Station Arts Center
2525 Michigan Avenue, D5
Santa Monica, CA 90404

310-315-9506

For more information visit:

http://robertbermangallery.com/





http://robertbermangallery.com/

At first I considered calling my piece "The Starlet." Since Loteria cards are usually in Spanish, Aardvark Letterpress decided to title the prints in Spanish too. This presented a small problem for me, as there is no direct translation for the term "starlet" - at least not a word that contains all the ramifications of the English term. After a few weeks seeking help from Spanish-speaking friends, I settled on "La Soñadora" – The Dreamer. It seemed to encompass all that I wanted to get across and has a beautiful, musical sound when spoken. I prefer it to my original title and think it has all the right "baggage."

Now that the plate is finished, we can start printing. Here is the finished plate mounted on a block of wood and fixed in the letterpress:





A close-up view:





Master printer Bill Berkuta handles it from here. He has set-up the press, mixed the ink and then pulls each print. Everything is made by hand, no automation involved. Bill keeps a close watch, applies ink and makes small adjustments to the press as needed. I inspect each one too, setting aside any that I think are not perfect.

Rolling the paper across the plate:



Bill Berkuta:






The finished print (before signing):





That's it! All I had left to do was to sign each one of the one hundred made. Cary, Lisa and I had a toast with a shot of tequila to celebrate!

The final outcome:





Many thanks to Lisa Jane Persky, Cary and Brooks Ocon, Bill Berkuta, George Bush (not that one) and everyone at Aardvark Letterpress and Peterson Engraving for all their help. It was an amazing experience.


The prints are for sale through Aardvark Letterpress, 213-388-2271. Available on the web at:

www.aardvarkletterpressfinearteditions.com

info@aardvarkletterpress.com


Here are the details:

"La Soñadora" by David Trulli

Size: 13" x 19¾" (unframed)

Paper: Cranes Lettra 220 lb Archival Paper

Edition of 100, each print signed and numbered

Price: $300 (increases to $375 in January)

Owned and operated by brothers Cary and Brooks Ocon, Aardvark Letterpress is an impressive place (no pun intended). A corner storefront in a beautiful old building, it is crowded with machines that are no longer made and reflect a time of great craftsmanship. Mechanical presses of various shapes and styles fill the room, as do reams of paper, ink and lead type.

A letterpress operates much like a traditional typewriter. A metal plate with raised surfaces is placed in the press along with a sheet of paper (very heavy cardstock in this case). The press will spread ink on the metal plate, and then the plate is pressed hard against the paper. One of the things that make letterpress printing so wonderful is the deep impression left in the paper; you can't help but run your fingers over it to feel the surface.

My scratchboard was complete, but to make a print a metal plate of my image had to be made. This is the specialty of Peterson Engraving. Lisa and I met with George Bush (NOT that one!) owner of Peterson. George patiently answered my questions and took me through the process.

First, my art is loaded into an easel so it can be photographed by a very large camera. The back of the camera is built in to a darkroom where litho film is cut and loaded in the camera (the film sheet is about 11"x14"). Litho film is unique in that it has no gray-scale; any shade photographed is turned into either pure black or pure white (actually clear, since this is a negative film). This fits my scratchboard work well, since it too is either black or white (gray areas just have more scratches in them).

Here is my work in the easel:




The camera:




The darkroom behind the camera:





George and I inspecting the film:




The film produces a negative image, which is used to expose a magnesium plate that is coated with a light sensitive emulsion. When that emulsion is processed it leaves a hard acid-resistant coating in any area that we want to print as black.

Using a design template from Aardvark, I created a digital file of the border and text that would be part of the finished print. This file was sent to Peterson Engraving to be composited with my artwork. The plate was then developed with both my image and text and acid is used to etch away the areas that are to remain white.

Once complete, the plate is sent back to Aardvark for printing. I'll cover that in the last installment.

Recently I was contacted by Lisa Jane Persky, curator for Aardvark Letterpress Fine Art Editions. To celebrate their forty years in Los Angeles, Aardvark Letterpress designed the "Los Angeles Loteria" - a series of fine art prints based the card game of chance. A traditional Loteria deck has 54 cards, each with a number, title and image. Using that as a template, Aardvark Letterpress commissioned various L.A.-based artists to create a work unique to our city. Unlike the playing cards each print measures 13"x19.75."

Here's what Loteria cards look like:




The planned 54 prints have been split into three series of eighteen, and series one has been completed. Lisa asked me to be the first artist of series two and I jumped at the chance. There are two processes facing me at this point: first, I must create a piece that is a fitting salute to my city, second, that piece has to be the basis for a letterpress print.

When I think of Los Angeles I can't help but think of my own story and how similar it is to so many other people here. In my case I came from a small suburb of New York to make my way as a cinematographer in the film business. I was young, naive, alone and far from home - the very same story as so many hopeful writers, directors and actors. In spite of the cliché that LA is a city of slackers, I find the level of hopes, dreams and ambition staggering.

With this in mind I started sketching and soon ended up with this:






A young woman standing in Union Station, suitcase at her side. Fresh off the train to make it big as an actress, or perhaps waiting for a train to take her home.

I was working from memory of the waiting room, so I went downtown, sat in the station and sketched some more. I ended up with this:




I set out to make the final piece in scratchboard. I had to work with an oversize panel to give room for the chandeliers, which break the border of the main image. The area surrounding the main image would have to be scratched out to pure white. I was fired up and the work went quickly.

While my scratchboard was now finished, there were still a whole lot of other things that had to be done. I'll cover that in my next post.

I've posted some of the work from my upcoming show "All Lines Are Busy." They are in an album of the same name in the "Pics" section.

Take a look if you get a chance.

Thanks!

After a couple of months, the egg was finally finished. It's called "Embryonic Journey." I've said enough already, so I'll just post pictures.

The egg on the stand:





Rotated a little:



Rotated more:



Detail:



This woman faces the jet, opposite the man:



Detail:



The egg is now in its new home and the collectors are very happy with it. It was a very different project for me, one that I enjoyed doing. Thanks for following along.

As soon as the collector dropped off the egg I went to work. I spent the rest of the day making little egg-shaped sketches while sitting in a nearby coffee shop. I couldn't help but think about the fact that most of the other eggs in the collection were non-representational, while my work is most definitely the opposite. Some of the artists in the collection are Ed Moses, Tony Berlant, Billy Al Bengston, Laddie John Dill, Ann Thornycroft, Andy Moses and others.

Pretty soon I decided that sketching in two dimensions would only get me so far. Scratchboard isn't the most forgiving medium in the world and I wanted to be prepared. The next day I went to a craft store and bought five little wooden eggs. During the weeks spent prepping the surface I would sketch directly onto these eggs. I always kept one or two in my shoulder bag so I could work on them at any time.

Here's a shot of one:




Speaking of time, the egg came into my life during a rather busy period. I was in the middle of scratching a six foot tall piece and have some other large works planned. I had pieces ready for varnish and some panels ready for prep. It felt like a factory at times. I would get to the studio and spend some time prepping the egg then once the egg was dry enough that I no longer had to spin it, I would get back to scratching. After some hours of that I would take time to ink a panel, then back to scratching. Near the end of the day I would try to get the dust level down and then varnish a piece or two. It worked out well, since everything (the layers of white grounds on the egg, the ink on a panel, the coat of varnish) had to just sit and dry. I would just keep bouncing back and forth.

Meanwhile the small eggs would get drawn and redrawn. I kept coming back to certain elements and eventually they all ended up on the same egg. I lived with it a little to make sure I liked it.

When he delivered the egg, the collector had told me to draw anything I wanted. He said he had learned that it was best to let artists do what they thought was right. Wow! That's the way to do it! Honestly, I think it put even more pressure on me – I had no excuses now.

Once I had chosen the design, it was time to start scratching. I started by drawing free hand in pencil – not details, just outlines. It was important to view the egg from an angle similar to how it would be viewed in the stand; what looks right from head-on looks very different from a "polar" view. I took a deep breath, grabbed the knife and made my scratches. It was interesting knowing that if I made any big errors I would have to sand down to the wood and start over.

Next week I'll post the last entry and include pictures of the finished work. Here's a shot of the egg in progress:

A few months ago an art collector contacted me for a commissioned work. He and his wife have an unusual collection; all the pieces are egg shaped. He said he had one egg fabricated a while ago by the same people who do some fabrication for Robert Graham but had never found an artist to complete it. The egg is solid mahogany, measures over 16 inches from end to end and sits in a stand that is 4 feet tall.

Here is the egg:




The collector asked me to turn this egg into one of my scratchboards and said I was free to draw whatever I like. I agreed immediately. The challenges presented by the egg were many and that appealed to me immensely. On a technical level, I had to figure out a way to support the egg while I worked (I didn't want to use the stand and risk ruining it with black ink) and how to apply the various materials without runs or sags.

The artistic challenges were harder. Drawing on a compound-curved surface presents many problems with perspective. Since the egg rotates in the stand, any image needed to work in a 360-degree fashion. Hardest of all, though, was my feeling that any image needed to relate to the egg-shape it was drawn on.

To support the egg, I used a large plastic storage bin with a few holes drilled to put the large axel or spike from the stand through. I was able to rotate the egg freely and the rig was as portable as a 35-pound egg could be. To avoid sags, I considered working in small spots, one at a time, but thought that might lead to cracks in the finished surface. My ultimate solution was to slowly spin the egg constantly until the various grounds and ink dried. Needless to say, this was a time consuming process.

Here's the egg in the support box with the white ground applied:



Here it is with the ink applied:



In the above photo, you can see the texture that I gave the grounds. Normally I go for a pretty smooth surface, but this seemed more "egg-like."

Next week I'll post more about the creative issues and my answers to them.

Here's something new for me. In 2006 I started to make some etchings from copper plates.
This one has yet to be titled. The image is 20" x 16," blank ink on Arches paper.