Saturday, November 7, 2015
MY SCULPTURE THENA ND NOW: I AM REALLY A LIVING ,BREATHING SCULPTURE
MY SCULPTURE THEN AND NOW: I AM REALLY A LIVING, BREATHING SCULPTURE
LINDA MARY MONTANO 2015
1946 -1960s: My sculpture career began early. I remember sitting at the Montano family dinner table, making what I called "teensies" by rolling up torn off pieces of paper napkins into miniscule long strips and then further rolling them until they were tensile strength linear squiggle-like "lines" that I could then place alone, together or in a group of Stonehengeish arrangements for my own viewing pleasure. Dad would respond with, "Hands, ( his name for me ) , concentrate on eating your supper," while I gathered my "sculptures" from their hiding places among the fork, knife and spoon gallery of objects which were supposed to be used to eat the then American fare of the 40's: meat-loaf, veal, Spanish rice and jello. I loved my name, hands, I loved using my hands. I continued to use my hands. It is a name that I deserved.
1960s: My mother, a painter and my father a trumpet player and lover of music, encouraged , or better yet, allowed me to return to college after I flunked out of the Nunnery. It was there, academia, that I attempted to become a normal 60's hippie, a delicate job since I was then a once almost nun; fragile, anorexic, weighing 80 pounds and certifiably ill. In the 60s, especially in a small upstate NY village, therapy was not an option or even existent and a better thing happened.... I met my liberator, my mentor, my art guru, a nun professor at a Catholic women's college, named Mother Mary Jane. What a boon! She gave me permission to embrace art and to heal. Her own practice was sculpture so of course I imitated her passion, having created many Stonehenges as a child. So for my Bachelor of Arts degree, under her tutlage, I made seven versions of the Visitation; Mary and Elizabeth embracing, both pregnant. A psychologically rich choice! And I must admit that my art bucket list includes 2 final sculptures; a 40 foot tall Visitation and a Stonehenge-like 11 objects in a circle titled, "Rosary." Teenies' magnified!
1965: I continued wanting to make with my hands and went to a graduate school in Florence Italy for a year, studying with a Hungarian male sculptor, a once violinist who was a student of Kodaly who, after having injured his hand and arm in the Hungarian Revolution, became a maker of objects, not sounds from his violin. I continued sculpting "Prayer Art" making crucifixes of wood, copper, clay and shipping it all back to the states via the compassion of my kind parents.
1966-69: Although I was a diligent and obedient grad student, working in all of the mediums and materials of the then conceptual art of the 60s in Madison Wisconsin, I presented for my MFA show, 9 chickens in 3 bigger than life minimalist cages, thereby satisfying the going trend of the times: bigger is better. But putting chickens in the cages saved my day because it began an art-life stance and mental frame that I practice until this second: that all is art, that I am art and more accurately, that I am LIVING ART, A LIVING SCULPTURE.
1970s: After grad school, the floodgates of matter becoming potential for my expression and intentionality continued and I worked with anything that I could see or find or touch. But once I was introduced to Yoga and Eastern Theologies and especially Meditation, I soon became MY OWN MATERIAL FOR ART. That is, I manipulated myself using my early childhood Catholic imagery and sat, danced, laid on chicken-angel beds for hours at a time giving myself permission to BE ART, TO BE LIFE, TO BE MEDITATIVE, TO BE SEEN AND HEALED BY THE VIEWER, TO BE AS SACRED AS A CATHOLIC STATUE IN A CATHOLIC CHURCH. Look at me, I will make me for you. I was re-doing art and religion for myself by becoming a Catholic woman art-life PRIEST!
1980S: For Catholics and practitioners of spiritual disciplines, endurance is a penitential given which leads to great benefits if understood correctly. I endured to become virtuous and to sculpt time by eliminating it, by passing it by, by ignoring it, by morphing it into space because I would do an action for X amount of hours or years, as art, and the intention was to sculpt my inner clay-consciousness so that I could understand my everyday mind that worried or feared or became anxious or attached.
So I sculpted this mind-stuff by blindfolding myself for weeks at a time; I handcuffed myself to an artist and tied myself to another for a year with a rope joining him in his concept; I focused on the 7 glands-chakras for 14 years, wearing one color clothes while practicing other disciplines that stretched my consciousness and habituation. I willingly became the fool (sometimes Divine) so as to collect the dross of the audiences' sturm und drang.
1990s: Life is art. My father's life was my art. My father's illness became the focus and locus for my attention and I used every art-life skill that I had to perform as his caregiver, as his daughter, as his friend, documenting the 7 years of our time together as a collaborator and manager for his care. I consider these years a denouement, a chance to employ a Herculean inner force for the pain was so intensely purifying that I began preparing for my own closing act, my own last public exploration of my shared/unshared visions. His death eventuated in sending my need for simplification into process; sending my archive to Fales NYU Library; sending my 50 videos, made with Tobe Carey, to You Tube for free; sending the over one dozen personas that I created and impersonated to find the real me; sending myself into invisible opposition. There is a need to not do more but to be less, do less.
1946 -1960s: My sculpture career began early. I remember sitting at the Montano family dinner table, making what I called "teensies" by rolling up torn off pieces of paper napkins into miniscule long strips and then further rolling them until they were tensile strength linear squiggle-like "lines" that I could then place alone, together or in a group of Stonehengeish arrangements for my own viewing pleasure. Dad would respond with, "Hands, ( his name for me ) , concentrate on eating your supper," while I gathered my "sculptures" from their hiding places among the fork, knife and spoon gallery of objects which were supposed to be used to eat the then American fare of the 40's: meat-loaf, veal, Spanish rice and jello. I loved my name, hands, I loved using my hands. I continued to use my hands. It is a name that I deserved.
1960s: My mother, a painter and my father a trumpet player and lover of music, encouraged , or better yet, allowed me to return to college after I flunked out of the Nunnery. It was there, academia, that I attempted to become a normal 60's hippie, a delicate job since I was then a once almost nun; fragile, anorexic, weighing 80 pounds and certifiably ill. In the 60s, especially in a small upstate NY village, therapy was not an option or even existent and a better thing happened.... I met my liberator, my mentor, my art guru, a nun professor at a Catholic women's college, named Mother Mary Jane. What a boon! She gave me permission to embrace art and to heal. Her own practice was sculpture so of course I imitated her passion, having created many Stonehenges as a child. So for my Bachelor of Arts degree, under her tutlage, I made seven versions of the Visitation; Mary and Elizabeth embracing, both pregnant. A psychologically rich choice! And I must admit that my art bucket list includes 2 final sculptures; a 40 foot tall Visitation and a Stonehenge-like 11 objects in a circle titled, "Rosary." Teenies' magnified!
1965: I continued wanting to make with my hands and went to a graduate school in Florence Italy for a year, studying with a Hungarian male sculptor, a once violinist who was a student of Kodaly who, after having injured his hand and arm in the Hungarian Revolution, became a maker of objects, not sounds from his violin. I continued sculpting "Prayer Art" making crucifixes of wood, copper, clay and shipping it all back to the states via the compassion of my kind parents.
1966-69: Although I was a diligent and obedient grad student, working in all of the mediums and materials of the then conceptual art of the 60s in Madison Wisconsin, I presented for my MFA show, 9 chickens in 3 bigger than life minimalist cages, thereby satisfying the going trend of the times: bigger is better. But putting chickens in the cages saved my day because it began an art-life stance and mental frame that I practice until this second: that all is art, that I am art and more accurately, that I am LIVING ART, A LIVING SCULPTURE.
1970s: After grad school, the floodgates of matter becoming potential for my expression and intentionality continued and I worked with anything that I could see or find or touch. But once I was introduced to Yoga and Eastern Theologies and especially Meditation, I soon became MY OWN MATERIAL FOR ART. That is, I manipulated myself using my early childhood Catholic imagery and sat, danced, laid on chicken-angel beds for hours at a time giving myself permission to BE ART, TO BE LIFE, TO BE MEDITATIVE, TO BE SEEN AND HEALED BY THE VIEWER, TO BE AS SACRED AS A CATHOLIC STATUE IN A CATHOLIC CHURCH. Look at me, I will make me for you. I was re-doing art and religion for myself by becoming a Catholic woman art-life PRIEST!
1980S: For Catholics and practitioners of spiritual disciplines, endurance is a penitential given which leads to great benefits if understood correctly. I endured to become virtuous and to sculpt time by eliminating it, by passing it by, by ignoring it, by morphing it into space because I would do an action for X amount of hours or years, as art, and the intention was to sculpt my inner clay-consciousness so that I could understand my everyday mind that worried or feared or became anxious or attached.
So I sculpted this mind-stuff by blindfolding myself for weeks at a time; I handcuffed myself to an artist and tied myself to another for a year with a rope joining him in his concept; I focused on the 7 glands-chakras for 14 years, wearing one color clothes while practicing other disciplines that stretched my consciousness and habituation. I willingly became the fool (sometimes Divine) so as to collect the dross of the audiences' sturm und drang.
1990s: Life is art. My father's life was my art. My father's illness became the focus and locus for my attention and I used every art-life skill that I had to perform as his caregiver, as his daughter, as his friend, documenting the 7 years of our time together as a collaborator and manager for his care. I consider these years a denouement, a chance to employ a Herculean inner force for the pain was so intensely purifying that I began preparing for my own closing act, my own last public exploration of my shared/unshared visions. His death eventuated in sending my need for simplification into process; sending my archive to Fales NYU Library; sending my 50 videos, made with Tobe Carey, to You Tube for free; sending the over one dozen personas that I created and impersonated to find the real me; sending myself into invisible opposition. There is a need to not do more but to be less, do less.
2000s: Now I invite others to the home where I was raised; no longer a home but THE ART LIFE INSTITITE & TRANSFIGUATION HOSPITAL. The house of teensies.
Here I answer my final question, a question I have ben asking since I turned ripped up napkins into mini sculptures back at the dinner table in 1945. I ask friends to come, be with me in the presence of a purchased BLACK MADONNA sculpture. Come to the chapel. My crucifix sculptures are also there. It's enough.
NOW: My final question? Silent LOVE.
TIME WITH TERESA OF AVILA: A PERFORMANCE EXPERIENCE
TIME WITH TERESA OF AVILA:A PERFORMANCE EXPERIENCE
TTA(TIME WITH TERESA OF AVILA ) is a workshop designed for those:
1. INTERESTED IN DURATION.
2.INTERESTED IN PERFORMANCE ART.
3. INTERESTED IN AN IN DEPTH EXPERIENCE OF TERESA OF AVILA'S LIFE AND WORK.
4. INTERESTED IN EXAMINING PERSONAL SOUL/SPIRITUAL ISSUES IN A CREATIVE WAY.
5. INTERESTED IN PERFORMING A CURE FOR OBSCURATIONS AND IMPEDIMENTS TO THE INTERIOR CASTLE.
6. INTERESTED IN DOING ALL OF THIS IN AN ATMOSPHERE OF COMMUNITY-MAKING, CREATIVE SAFETY,MOVEMENT-SOUNDING EXPERIMENTS,WITNESSED ACTIONS-REACTIONS AND RELEASING LAUGHTER.
7. INTERESTED IN WORKING CLOSELY WITH LINDA M MONTANO.
This workshop experience will be a time committed event which utilizes the 8 hour Spanish film of TERESA OF JESUS, 1980.
Montano's film, TERESA OF AVILA will also be shown as part of the workshop.
Please come in very respectable, conservative, dignified clothes conversant with a "religious" habit which will be worn daily throughout the entire duration of the workshop.Don't think halloween, think Europe in 1940.
Bring writing material, penance-like snacks, water and an attitude of retreat .
Montano, once a novice in a convent, has performed her art-life professionally since 1969.She has taught sculpture, performance and the history of performance for 40 years.
Currently she practices "art " in dialogue with traditional Roman Catholic values, teaching and theologies.
Montano is also a certified laughter leader.
A LETTER TO MY PERFORMANCE "14 YEARS OF LIVING ART"
A LETTER TO MY PERFORMANCE: 14 YEARS OF LIVING ART
Dear 14 Years of Living Art,
This letter is an apology to you.You, he biggest, longest, most transforming, most encompassing, most generous, and most complex performance of my life.
I can't sing your praises here. Why?
Because there are not 34874878 pages in this book, I will not be able to tell the reader about Dr. R.S.Mishra and the way he introduced his students to the chakras, day after day, year after year using color charts, chants, meditations and art practice.
Because there are not 276767673 pages in this book, I will not be able to include the essay Moira Roth wrote which describes 7 Years of Living Art. Everyone who visited me for seven years at The New Museum where I performed Art/Life Counseling, was given a copy of the essay which was printed on paper the color of the clothes I wore that year.
Because there are not 57873877 pages in this book, I will not be able to include the year-end reports I wrote for the first 7 Years of Living Art.
Because there are not 958487875 pages in this book, I cannot include Jennifer Fisher's essay from Parachute magazine.
Because there are not 94885775 pages in this book, I will not be able to describe the Summer Saint Camp I held each year for 2 weeks,
or name the participants and first meetings with subsequent friends Annie Sprinkle, Veronica Vera and Barbara Carrellas.
Because there are not 48746746 pages in this book, I will not be able to tell Tehching Hsieh that he is an important influence on my work and has enriched my love of endurance.
Because there are not 485787576 pages in this book, I will not be able to tell the reader about the syncronistical aspects of the performance: that I completed menopause at the end of 7 Years of Living Art(1984-1991), and completed teaching in t\Texas at the end of Another 7 Years of Living Art(1991-1998).
Because there are not 587857 pages in this book, I cannot tell in detail that I am continuing this performance and it is titled,21 Years of Living Art(1998-2019),asking three people to perform for seven years in any way they wish.
Because there are not 597857875 pages in this book, I won't be able to include a chart created by Caroline Myss (ex-nun), who interfaces the Kabbalah, Catholic Sacraments and Chakras in a brilliant way .
Her chart helped ease my return to Catholicism.
Because there are not 8758587 pages in this book, I will not be able to talk about the website the Robert Shiffler Foundation
produced.(WWW.BOBSART.ORG.)Peter Huttinger curated the site and it includes many images from 14 Years of Living Art.
Because there are not 45987587587 pages in this book, I will not be able to talk in depth about the courage of Marcia Tucker, director of The New Museum at that time, and her willingness to include a seven year installation-room at the museum where I performed Art/Life Counseling once a month for seven years .The space was painted a different color each year.
Dear 14 Years of Living Art,
This letter is an apology to you.You, he biggest, longest, most transforming, most encompassing, most generous, and most complex performance of my life.
I can't sing your praises here. Why?
Because there are not 34874878 pages in this book, I will not be able to tell the reader about Dr. R.S.Mishra and the way he introduced his students to the chakras, day after day, year after year using color charts, chants, meditations and art practice.
Because there are not 276767673 pages in this book, I will not be able to include the essay Moira Roth wrote which describes 7 Years of Living Art. Everyone who visited me for seven years at The New Museum where I performed Art/Life Counseling, was given a copy of the essay which was printed on paper the color of the clothes I wore that year.
Because there are not 57873877 pages in this book, I will not be able to include the year-end reports I wrote for the first 7 Years of Living Art.
Because there are not 958487875 pages in this book, I cannot include Jennifer Fisher's essay from Parachute magazine.
Because there are not 94885775 pages in this book, I will not be able to describe the Summer Saint Camp I held each year for 2 weeks,
or name the participants and first meetings with subsequent friends Annie Sprinkle, Veronica Vera and Barbara Carrellas.
Because there are not 48746746 pages in this book, I will not be able to tell Tehching Hsieh that he is an important influence on my work and has enriched my love of endurance.
Because there are not 485787576 pages in this book, I will not be able to tell the reader about the syncronistical aspects of the performance: that I completed menopause at the end of 7 Years of Living Art(1984-1991), and completed teaching in t\Texas at the end of Another 7 Years of Living Art(1991-1998).
Because there are not 587857 pages in this book, I cannot tell in detail that I am continuing this performance and it is titled,21 Years of Living Art(1998-2019),asking three people to perform for seven years in any way they wish.
Because there are not 597857875 pages in this book, I won't be able to include a chart created by Caroline Myss (ex-nun), who interfaces the Kabbalah, Catholic Sacraments and Chakras in a brilliant way .
Her chart helped ease my return to Catholicism.
Because there are not 8758587 pages in this book, I will not be able to talk about the website the Robert Shiffler Foundation
produced.(WWW.BOBSART.ORG.)Peter Huttinger curated the site and it includes many images from 14 Years of Living Art.
Because there are not 45987587587 pages in this book, I will not be able to talk in depth about the courage of Marcia Tucker, director of The New Museum at that time, and her willingness to include a seven year installation-room at the museum where I performed Art/Life Counseling once a month for seven years .The space was painted a different color each year.
Because there are not 549858757 pages in this book, I will not be able to describe in detail the way I drew one image each year and limited myself to one drawing a year for seven years, drawing with my right hand ,year 1-7;and then for the next seven years of the performance I drew the same drawing with my left hand.
Because there are not 98498494 pages in this book, I will not be able to talk in detail about the two retrospectives I had of relics from 14 Years of Living Art. One, was curated by Carolyn Eyler in Maine; the other, by Jennifer Fisher, in Montreal.
Because there are not 948944787 pages in this book, I will not be able to describe the photo images Annie Sprinkle took of me imitating the seven mudras from the seven drawings.
Because there are not 487985787 pages in this book, I will not be able to fully describe Martha Wilson's report of going to "see" me at the United Nations Chagall Chapel , where I had donated my invisible self as a Living Sculpture for seven years during Another 7 Years of Living Art. Seasonally I "appeared" there for seven years, having "really" appeared at The New Museum for the first seven years of 7Years of Living Art.
Because there are not 5489587587587 pages in this book, I willl not be able to talk about the joys of making endurance vows.
In conclusion,14Year of Living Art, my champion, my secret one, this is the last time I will write about you for seven more years. It is now January 10,2004.My new no-writing vow begins January 18,2004.With more space around you, maybe you will learn to fly by yourself!
Love, thanks, do you best and good luck,
Linda
FOR GAIA, THE MURAL PAINTER
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