How Skype Visits from 17 Artists Transformed a Summer School Art Appreciation Class

It has been a number of years since I last taught a summer school class -- California's recent budget woes have been tough on community colleges -- so when I was told that I would have the chance to teach Art Appreciation this summer a surge of inspiration hit. Thinking over the opportunity I asked myself a question: "What can be done to make this summer's course especially interesting and memorable?"

The answer came to me rather quickly: bringing guest speakers to my class seemed like a great way to make the class fresh and vital. Since there is no budget available for speakers, I decided to try bringing visitors into my classroom via Skype video calls. Initially the plan was try Skype on a limited basis and see how things worked out: four or five guest speakers would be plenty. At the heart of my experimental class there would still be the backbone of a conventional class: students would read an assigned text, take quizzes and hear me lecture on relevant topics.

I posted a notice on my Facebook timeline asking for volunteers, mentioning that I was not able to offer compensation for speakers. Since I have been blogging about art and artists for four years, I knew that I had many artist Facebook friends to draw from. Within a week's time I had enough volunteers to schedule 17 guest speakers and also a list of alternates, many of whom have let me know that they will be happy to speak the next time that speakers are needed. I was amazed and pleased at the response. If you are a teacher, you should keep in mind that if speaking simply involves connecting with a class for 30 minutes via Skype there may be many people in your field willing to volunteer their time and expertise.

With my calendar filled up there was a practical concern to address: how would I ready the classroom for Skype visits? The room where I teach art history is a "smart classroom," which means that it features an overhead LCD projector connected to a computer which is in turn connected to high speed internet. As it turns out, all I needed to do was add a webcam and microphone to the computer so that my guests would be able to see the classroom and take questions from my students. I chose a Logitech HD Pro Webcam, which sells for $60.67 on and it worked very well. We had virtually no technical problems with Skype although there were some minor issues with video quality from time to time when our guests had intermittent internet service.

Logitech HD Pro Webcam C920

One of the beauties of having Skype guests is that no travel is involved. That is a good thing as our first guest was Conor Walton, who spoke to us from his studio in Ireland. Conor came through to us flawlessly -- the sound and picture were both terrific -- and I took a few photos of the screen as he spoke and also recorded a short video clip with my iPhone. This became my habit and over time I created an archive of short videos that captured bits of what each speaker showed us and had to say.


Artist Conor Walton as he appeared in our classroom via Skype

As other Skype guests followed a bit of a routine developed. I had each artist speak about his or her background for maybe 15 minutes, and then we switched gears and talked about their art. A wonderful feature of Skype is that if you open a webpage with Skype video on a window appears at the top of the screen where whoever you are talking continues to appear. Using this feature, artists were able to talk about their work while hovering above images presented on their websites. The video below shows artist Thomas Wharton discussing one of his portraits in this mode.

Artist Thomas Wharton discusses a portrait presented on his website.

Over time, the Skype visitors managed to talk about a wide range of topics. Many of then shared personal stories about the obstacles they had faced as their lives and careers developed and one of the things that impressed my students -- who took notes in their journals during each talk -- was how flexible and adaptable the speakers were. My students were also pleased to find that the guests lacked pretension and were very interested in speaking to them directly in very real terms. Here is what one student later had to say about this on our class discussion board:
"One thing that I have found in common with all the artists that we have met through Skype is that each one has taken risks. They have fallen and gotten back up, not just in art but also in life."

Skype guest Karen Azarnia

Our guest speakers also talked about some of the range of media they had explored and about their other roles and professions. For example, Karen Azarnia spoke about being a gallery director and curator, Serena Potter talked about creating performance art and Lori Escalera described her success as a chalk artist creating works in public.

A video clip of Lori Escalera's talk

Although the topic of our class has been "Art Appreciation" the presence of so many remarkable guests has taken the class outside of our normal curriculum and provided a great deal of wisdom to my students. When I recently asked students "What were the best things said by our speakers?" here are some of the comments they posted:
"Inside you, you know what is right for you." I must say it has stayed on my mind even until right now. It was said by a recent guest speaker: Thomas Wharton. It made me think of recent and future decision I have to make which I have been thinking about constantly, but when Thomas Wharton said that it was as if somebody shook me and said "wake up!"
Sam Nejati said: "I look at painting as a human body or a symphony; every piece has to function. It is like me and the canvas have a conversation." I liked the way he expressed his views on what art and being an artist means for him. 
My favorite artist so far has been Jean Paul Mallozzi. When we Skyped him, he said that he "purposely makes himself uncomfortable to be great." I am a musician and music teacher so I understand the importance of challenging yourself artistically.
The best thing that any of our guest speakers has said came from Nathan Lewis: "Art is a way to figure out who you are: it's not a competition."

Artist Daniel Maidman appearing via Skype

Almost all of the artists spoke to us directly from their studios so that we are able to view works in progress and get a feeling for the environments they surrounded themselves with. Daniel Maidman Skyped us from New York and talked about how he works with live models. Karrie Ross showed us how she works in her Los Angeles home and makes it double as a studio. Christopher Benson Skyped us from New Mexico and gave us glimpses of the superb studio that adjoins his home.


Artist Karrie Ross appearing via Skype


Artist Christopher Benson appearing via Skype

I can't say enough about how powerful the presence of this remarkable slate of guests turned out to be. They made the idea of art come alive and I think the class is going to be a game-changer for many of my students and for me as well. As our final guest -- Lawrence Gipe -- said to me during his talk "We may have converted a few people into artists today." He may be right, but for the many students who took my class who will be going to other fields there is no doubt that they will have been inspired by the passion and intelligence of our guest speakers. I am personally grateful to each speaker, and I know that my students are too.

Our 17 Skype guest speakers (in order of appearance):

Conor Walton
Sam Nejati
Brenda Hope Zappitell
Melinda Cootsona
Karen Azarnia
Lori Escalera
Christopher Benson
Serena Potter
Karrie Ross
Jean Paul Mallozzi
Cynthia Grilli
Nathan Lewis
Daniel Maidman
Nicole Santiago
Catherine Ruane
Peri Schwartz
Thomas Wharton
Larry Gipe
An archive of short video clips can be found on my youtube channel...

Unsettled: Portraits by Peter Zokosky at Koplin Del Rio Gallery, Los Angeles

Peter Zokosky: Photo by Karole Foreman

Unsettled: Portraits by Peter Zokosky, which opened last week at Koplin Del Rio Gallery, consists of 19 paintings that feature three distinct groups of subject matter: babies, ventriloquist dummies and stingrays. All of the portraits feel just a little bit "off," which is exactly what Zokosky is aiming for. Come to think of it, was painting rays ever mainstream?

Zokosky isn't off-center just in terms of what he chooses to paint, but also in what he manages to make his subjects say. His stingrays -- which were inspired by a trip to the Long Beach aquarium -- are rather friendly. "They seemed to be asking to be painted," is how he explained it to a crowd of well-wishers during the opening. Can you think of another painter working today who is working to make cartilaginous fishes so inviting?

In contrast, Zokosky's babies and dummies are somewhat creepy: which you would expect from paintings of dummies... but babies? Zokosky steps back a bit from everything he paints: His curiosity has always had a scientific aspect. Long known for his paintings of apes -- who sometimes appear as artists at their easels -- Zokosky seems to see things the way that anthropologists used to: All Hominidae are really part of one big family.

Of course, what makes Zokosky's art really tick is the fact that he is a great intuitive thinker. Nothing in his art ever really adds up, and that is what makes his best work so unsettling. There isn't another artist out there who can take his intellectual caprices and play them out so completely or so elegantly. His canvases are tenderly painted, perfectly resolved -- in formal terms -- and glowingly lit. They not only ask questions, they multiply questions. Unsettled works by slowing you down and making you see things the way he does: with seemingly infinite curiosity and patience.

John Seed in Conversation with Peter Zokosky:

Noel, 2014, oil on canvas, 21 x 16"

How did you decide to paint babies? 

Good question: Babies are about as odd and strange as a human can be but still be considered beautiful. I painted one six feet tall, retaining its proportions and at adult size it was truly frightening. Their heads are enormous, and their arms and legs are tiny. Babies are beautiful because we love them, we don't love them because they are beautiful. It's a good illustration of how we are wired. We adore certain helpless creatures. Naturally, we all start as babies, so there is a universal, undifferentiated quality. Perhaps another appealing aspect is the pure potential they embody. I like the fact that we can care for and nurture these funny looking humans. They are hard to paint, they're so smooth and their faces lack to topography an adult has, they're like Arizona, lots of space between a few points of interest.

Embarcadero, 2014, oil on panel, 22" x 28"

Is it fair to say that much of your subject matter goes right to the edge of creepy?

I suppose that's true much of the time. I don't try to make them creepy, or near-creepy, I try to make them engaging and interesting to look at. I like the uncertainty that comes with experiences that don't conform to expectations. Not quite cute, not quite horrible, that in-between space seems the most interesting, it's where growth can take place. For me life feels that way, and I think art has to function the same as life, or it seems false. You could argue that if life provides that experience then why ask art to do it, I'd respond that art is a distillation of life, it points to something vague and mysterious and makes it a bit more concise, if freezes it so that you can ponder it, maybe it helps you to deal with the unknown a bit. Disturbing things can be beautiful and gratifying when we see them in context.

Skeleton Boy, 2014, oil on panel, 24" x 18"

There is a saying: "Every painting is a self-portrait." Does that idea apply at all to your work?

The self is all we've got: It's the portal to everything. My sensation of everything is limited to what touches this organism I call "me". Our eyes don't extend into new frontiers; they're not walking catfish, they're sea anemones, they're passive and they only ingest what comes to them. We share the room but each of us occupies our own space. What I mean is that all we can comment on is how we see things. I'm comfortable with the notion that every painting is a self-portrait of some sort in that it refers to our own interpretation of what we experience.

Sugar, 2014, oil on panel, 13.25" x 11.25"

The subjects in the Koplin show -- babies, dummies and "smiling" rays -- all seem to have hints of personality. Are you trying to point out the shared aspects between animals and humans? 

I'd say they all have shared aspects, to call them "human aspects" makes it sound like we invented it and they picked up on it. It's not so much that they seem like us, as much as we all seem alike. Vertebrates are pretty much variations on a theme. When we relate to them it's because we're similar. It feels like I'm splitting hairs, but I think there's a significant difference being discussed.

Psyche, 2014, oil on canvas, 18 x 12"

What kinds of reactions do you hope this show will evoke? 

I suppose I'd like to hear someone say: "I hadn't thought of that subject as beautiful and important and interesting, but I can see how it is." I'd be disappointed to hear "creepy things are cool, and these are totally cool." I'm trying to point out things that are really meaningful, if you make the effort. They aren't a joke, I'm serious about what I do; which is not to say absurdity is out of bounds. I want the work to hold up, to remain engaging. I'm willing to forego the "wow factor" -- is that term still being used? -- in favor of the "hmmm... factor." I like a slow read, something that continues to unfold over time: I work hard to make these paintings beautiful. Another reaction I like is "That seems meaningful, I want to live with it." That's a great compliment.

Listen: Podcast interview of Peter Zokosky by Mike Stice. 

Upcoming Event:
Peter Zokosky in Conversation with John Seed
Followed by a book signing of "Ten Rather Eccentric Essays on Art"
Saturday, July 26th at 4-6 PM
Contact Koplin Del Rio Gallery by July 23rd for reservations.

Exhibition Info:
Unsettled: Portraits by Peter Zokosky
June 28- July 26, 2014
Koplin Del Rio Gallery
6031 Washington Blvd Culver City, CA 90232

'Daniel Sprick's Fictions: Recent Works' at the Denver Art Museum

Daniel Sprick, Beijing Man, Oil on board, 20 x 16 inches
There is a well-known story about the painter Richard Diebenkorn that goes like this: one day in the early 1950s, when Diebenkorn was living and teaching in New Mexico, someone commented to him that he probably wasn't very good at realism. Stung into action, Diebenkorn tossed off a convincing portrait sketch of a nearby man and more than made his point: that he wasn't an abstract painter simply because he was incapable of traditional rendering. Diebenkorn was a complete painter, and he wasn't about to be let someone's assumptions about his limitations go unchallenged.

Daniel Sprick, whose work is now on view at the Denver Art Museum, has been creating paintings for more than a decade that make a similar point, but in reverse: any assumptions you make about his limits are very likely going to be wrong too. Sprick is an almost absurdly talented realist who it would be easy to label as a "tight" painter: he can lasso paint into perfectly limned contours and burnish human features into glowing, baby-bottom smoothness. Sprick can also let the paint run free and tell him what to do: underneath his realism he leaves patches of vivid, freely brushed abstraction. He also paints the wildness of hair with anarchic verve.

Daniel Sprick, Tom T., Oil on board, 16 x 20 inches
Who is this guy who can handle the brush like Joan Mitchell -- or a Chinese literati painter --in the morning, and then morph into Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres by dinner? This may not sound like a compliment, but Sprick's technique is so varied that it is almost schizophrenic.

Sprick is many painters in one, and there is something conceptual about his approach. The conceptual element is there in the fact that each painting displays what the artist Vincent Desiderio calls a "narrative of creation." In other words, Sprick's paintings are utterly clear about how they are made: when seen as a whole they represent -- among other things -- a rebuke to photo-realism, which looks tame compared to what he does. Looking over a Sprick painting is an experience in being both "wowed" by his sheer bravura skill while also appreciating the artist's ability to balance his intellect with his intuition. Sprick paints hard and feels deeply.

As if Sprick didn't have enough to offer just in terms of virtuosity, there is another element to his portraits that has to be praised. You might expect that someone with his self-confidence could be detached from his subjects: far from it. Sprick has the knack for seeing people's inner vitality -- maybe it is related to his knack for understanding abstract energies -- and even when his portraits achieve refinement his subjects never lose their mojo. Take a look at the people that Dan Sprick paints and you will notice that however varied they are on the surface they all have one thing in common in emotional terms: they are all wide open to being painted by Daniel Sprick. They love being part of his oeuvre even though much of his work isn't flattering in conventional terms and there is at least a hint of affectionate caricature in his strongest works.

Honestly, who wouldn't want Sprick to paint their portrait? The man is a living master. Like Diebenkorn he is more than up to the challenge of surprising you with his versatility.

Daniel Sprick, Self-Portrait, Oil on board, 24 x 18 inches
John Seed in Conversation with Daniel Sprick Dan, tell me about why you chose "Fictions" as the title for your show in Denver.

If you see yourself showing up in a short story, you may recognize parts of yourself that are drawn accurately, parts that are grafted from another model, and other parts from vapor and dusk. these narratives may be vague, but they are fictions, which was observed by Timothy Standring, who chose the title. When we paint, we internalize and filter all the raw data of existence through our sensibilities, experiences, abilities and shortcomings. We also mix in our habits, biases, preconceptions and aesthetic preferences. Then we stir it up with our natural emotional responses, and out comes -- lord knows what -- a variation on the initial experience. The end result is a kind of a daydreaming other world: a fictional world.

Daniel Sprick, Ketsia in Profile, Oil on canvas on board, 22 x 28 inches
Is it fair to say that your work combines a variety of ideas and approaches? I see realism, abstraction and also conceptualism.

There was an article in which you discussed that there are various art worlds with little overlap or awareness of each other: parallel universes without contact. But I keep hearing the term ''bridge'' between traditional academic work and contemporary art as applied to this show. Christoph Heinrich, the director of the Denver Art Museum, has a background as curator of modern and contemporary in Germany, yet he shows genuine enthusiasm about this work and indicates that it dovetails with his goals. I am humbled by this, and very, very grateful.

Daniel Sprick, Kenton, oil on board, 20 x 16 inches
How do you hope people will react to your work when they see it?

Curator Timothy Standring, who worked directly with me in Denver, said to a group after the reception that it is rare to have an opening in which people are actually looking at the paintings more than at each other. I heard reports of viewers moist in the eyes, and I noticed a bit of that myself. To connect on an emotional level is the most that an artist can hope for. Conversely, it will always be a big ol' world with many valid points of view, and none of us can expect 100 percent acceptance. I am presently reeling from the most carefully thought out, intelligently written, long, bitter and vitriolic attack I've seen against any one since elementary schoolyard days. Though it stings, I am flattered by the amount of effort he put into it. So thank you, mister.

Daniel Sprick, Nova, oil on board, 20 x 16 inches
How can a skilled artist practicing realism today endow his/her work with a sense of contemporaneity?

An artist can internalize contemporary sensibilities, not so much by staying up to date on trends at Art Basel Miami, but by being true to him/herself and by indulging in the realm of the senses: observing and feeling, being influenced more by life itself than by the art world.

Daniel Sprick, Nicky, Oil on board, 30 x 24 inches
How do the different elements in your work compliment each other?

For years I've heard that the term ''de-skilling'' is being used in university art schools, apparently meaning that craft is believed to be an impediment to expression, and for sure: technical perfection as an end in itself can be lifeless. At the opposite end of the scale, if I am wildly expressive and full of emotion, in a language that no one recognizes, I am a man babbling in tongues out on the street. Then there is the art of no feeling and no craft either: supported by verbose and incomprehensible theories to keep investors buying into it.

Emotional expression can flourish when combined with highly practiced traditional academic skill. My taste leans toward understatement and subtlety. The works are not exactly accurate: they are embedded with errors due to my basic human shortcomings and also due to intentional exaggerations or caricature.

In the careful realism of my pieces there is also something in there that is a little bit wrong, but it may convey some interesting other world.

Daniel Sprick, Carmel, Oil on board, 20 x 20 inches
How do you see your work as fitting into the long lineage of postwar figuration?

Nathan Oliveira conveyed an otherworldliness and expressed powerful emotion with recognizable figures during the heyday of Abstract Expressionism: his work constituted a bridge. Lucien Freud is another bridge artist between worlds; so is F. Scott Hess. There is a sequence, a progression from 1950's to today. I think that what I am doing follows in that sequence. It is possible to carefully craft artwork in the long tradition of realism while being expressive and relevant to our times. Realism was certainly not exhausted at the end of the nineteenth century.

All images ©Daniel Sprick

Daniel Sprick Portrait from APAIRUS COMPANY on Vimeo.
Daniel Sprick's Fictions: Recent Works
The Denver Art Museum
June 22, 2014 - November 2, 2014
Hamilton Building