All my rituals

Cover of the Cult Deprogramming manual, 1998-1999
 " ...day to day. Each of us should be willing to flow along with the tide and not set up resistance against anything that comes. This is necessary so that growth and redemption can occur."

Where are my rituals? Where is my mind? And what is okay to reflect on when the world is going to hell and everyone is stressed. It all seems so gross. 

Where are the things that I know to do after 53 years on the planet that uniquely ground, calm, inspire and excite me? Not people like me or similar to me, or that share a set of characteristics to me, and especially not the fucking data set and me. 

ME. I remember from my childhood that Mr. Rogers on PBS would tell me that there was no one else like ME. That each human was unique and special, one of a kind. I liked this idea. There was only one me and only one you. Yet, somehow we could create a kind community and work together.

But then we got other messaging as we were growing up, don't let that uniqueness go to your head, don't feel too special. Who do you think you are? Don't be weird. Don't stick out. Be more like them. Wear this, buy that. Eat this, not that. Say this, and for god sake don't say that. 

Like most, I got swept up in it for periods of time, but I could never maintain the facade. I would rebel against this behaviour and then be an exaggerated version of my "true" self. Back and forth it went until I had no idea who I was.

Over the years, I have been perceived as a rebel, a punk, a writer, an actor, an artist. Politically engaged, and a highly sensitive person. Intense, Self absorbed, Sarcastic, A live wire, Emotional, Anxious, and way too much. 

However, I am also perceived as overly responsible, conscientious to a fault, rule abiding (if they make sense), mature for my age and an old soul (as a child) - and yet also naive, gullible, and a people pleaser. Extremely loyal, tenacious, and dedicated. I am an outwardly hard worker (and working even harder behind the scenes). 

If you didn't know this about me, the algorithm does; and feeds me content that maintains my interest and exploits my weakness. 

Let the record state - that while being many of these perceptions and more, I have also been a consistently funny human. I am not sure if the bastards have figured that out yet. 

Inside the manual

The idea was that the imagined cult member would look at the book and the images would reset their memories and they would be restored to the person their family remembered from before the cult. This was when assuming characters and scenarios were an important part of my work.

Now back to me (and you) and the fucking data set. In 1998-99 I made a piece called "the cult deprogramming manual" at the University of Oregon as part of my BFA terminal exhibition and right now I feel I could benefit from gazing into its pages. I think a lot of us could. You can read a bit more about the manual and some of my other earlier work at the U of O in this old blog post from 2008.

I am so tired of being fed information that the algorithm knows I will like or respond to. I am tired of being sold to and manipulated and I am tired of being mined for data. We all are. I am tired of wondering if an app could help me feel better. I am pretty media savvy and I remember existing long before the internet - but the bastards got me anyway - you can't will power your way out of something so expertly designed and crafted to influence and addict. 

Obviously over the years the internet has been weaponised against us and our poor brains. We have unwittingly found ourselves in a cult. And now I know it's more important than ever to spend time in my studio and turn my back on so much bullshit. 

How are you taking back control or managing your exposure to all of this relentless messaging? How are you still staying engaged with your community (online and offline) while setting limits? How are you staying aware of the problems of the world and taking action without it feeling performative and hollow or without becoming overwhelmed? Have you read or listened to a book on the subject that has impacted you and made a difference in how you are navigating all of this? I'd love to hear about it. 

Until next week, I will be over here clawing back my rituals. 

And remember, that there truly is no one like you and I like you just as you are. Keep Fighting! X.

It's a found life for the pack of us

Book. 2019. Available £150

As I mentioned last week, this month I am focussing on my Book Series. The book series was created in 2019 as a follow-up to the original books that I created to earn my BFA in Painting and Drawing from the University of Oregon in 1999. 

I thought it would be fun to share the following review of my exhibition from back then. The last time I shared this was in 2008, so seems like it is time again. 

What follows is a spontaneous review of my show I found inside my comment book, written by my old friend Hayyim (Howard) Cohen. We worked together side by side in little cubicles selling the newspaper in a tiny downtown office and became fast friends in the 90s in Eugene, Oregon. He would share his New York Times Arts section with me during breaks.



Megan by Hayyim Cohen (written in 1999)

"Combining subversive parody, red (life), black (nothingness) and white (blinding light), duct tape to shut out the noisy excess, upholstery tacks, and the dead bodies of obsolete technical books, Megan Chapman (see your dictionary- "Chapman" means seller) creates lyrical southern "talkin' blues" between the pages of discards (found objects) she collects from the free bins of the Smith Family bookstore in Eugene Oregon.

Providing at her B.F.A. commencement (the beginning of her life as an artist) a comfortable pink sofa with fresh green throw pillows, a little Gene Autry and "A Sunday Kind of Love" musical background for a gathering of "found" people who "read" her books often with whimsical smiling faces.

Megan nails the defunct corpses of old books (now frames for her poems and designs) on the gallery walls with the tacks she loves, this is interspersed with machine blowups of her photographs, which add a nice contrapuntal theme to the shards of books behind the sofa and on the coffee table. Megan is a southern woman and now she has a B.F.A. to nail to the wall when she goes home (tell your Maw, tell your Paw I'm gonna send you back to Arkansas - population 40,002). It is all here in the art, the depths of introspective experience, from one who knows how it all fits together in the package. It's a "found" life for the pack of us, don't you think? Megan has definitely found something...to do and to make a difference, and she does it all with southern hospitality to boot!"

I am so fortunate to have this nugget, and like the art closed up in those old altered books, I thought this needed to be aired out and shared. My friend, Howard did this on his own accord, and I am grateful for his tangents and details; his writing helps me to remember myself at that time, as well as the show and the atmosphere.

Hope you enjoyed this review from the past. Have a lovely weekend. 

Book. 2019. £150

BOOKS: 1999/2019

BOOKS: Twenty Years Later 1999/2019  

My book series began in my last year of art school at the University of Oregon as I was my persuing my BFA in Painting and it became my terminal project exhibition for my graduation with honours. I already knew at this point that I was an abstract painter and that I had some hard feelings towards the “art establishment.” While I respected my peers in the program, I didn’t want to create the same large scale glossy paintings that they were doing at the time. I wanted to create something more intimate, meaningful, and honest from my work. I wanted to use common materials and somehow make art more accessible. I wanted the viewer to have an experience with the work.

I created my abstractions in found hardback books that I gathered one by one out of the free bin of a local bookstore. I selected the discarded and withdrawn books and their beautifully yellowed pages as they were now somehow without value. I sometimes tore them apart to showcase their skeletons and hidden features while I painted with oil bar, drew with colour pencils and graphite, and commandeered their stories making them into something new. I assumed personalities and told other people’s stories, while creating small abstractions within the taped, stitched, and bound pages. These books were rough, raw, and dirty though the concept and belief behind them were fully considered. These were meant to be read and handled like any other book. The story received was meant for the viewer alone and could be closed up and left for another. Each person handling the books became part of the story and the story became part of the viewer as they walked away. They had just touched modern art. They had just had it in the palm of their hands.

For my terminal exhibition at the University’s Laverne Krause Gallery, I set up a sofa, a woven rug, a coffee table, end tables, and chairs. Turning the gallery into a familiar setting, a place that invited you to sit and relax without having to say it. My books littered the coffee table overlapping, some open, some closed. No instructions, simply relying on human nature, curiosity, and comfort to encourage the viewer to experience the art, to turn the pages and be.

I have always had a problem with the exclusivity of art and sadly the idea by many that art requires specialist skills, knowledge or education to understand and appreciate it fully. For many, there is an imaginary barrier between themselves and art, especially when it comes to abstraction. All art requires is time and the willingness to see but before that can happen, it must be accessible. The guard of the viewer must be lowered, the defenses calmed and soothed to foster understanding. If I can put art into a format that is more easily understood and accessible then I can change people’s experience of art. If I can take something that might be seen as scary or intimidating on a gallery wall and put it in the hands of the viewer, they are now dominating the art, the art is no longer dominating them.

photo by Mairi Brown taken at Art Walk Porty

Most viewers will understand books even at their most basic level they will understand picture books. If I put modern art in books that they can touch and feel, smell, read, feel the weight of the work in the books, then I can get them to slow down and have an experience. The average time people spend looking at paintings on a wall in a museum or gallery is 17-27 seconds. That is not an experience. We have been trained that art is not to be touched. It is revered, fragile, valuable, untouchable. We view it with our hands jammed in our pockets, behind our back, behind a rope, behind a taped line, we do not gesticulate towards or talk loudly about it. The art becomes void. The art becomes detached from reality and it’s humanness. Some humans will also detach from it or never even attempt it. I find this thought deeply wounding.

Join me here again next week on my Friday Studio Blog for Part II of the written discussion of my books. Until then you can hear me speak about by books on this week's video visit. Thanks again to everyone who came to see my books art Art Walk Porty last weekend. It was a joy to meet you and share my passion for this work.

Thank you.

"I don't want to set the world on fire"

I was reading my old journals again, looking for inspiration for this blog post. I think the only solution for today is to go back in time.

In a previous post, I mentioned that my art created towards the end of my education was painted inside the pages of discarded books, and how much I enjoyed working in this manner. The works were small and on paper, created during pure inspiration and filled with stories and characters.

Today, I found my comment book from my 1999 B.F.A. terminal exhibition from the University of Oregon. Inside on the painted white pages, I let one sentence from the original text remain,
"I don't want to set the world on fire."

But, this is not true, and you know I already have the matches...

What follows is a spontaneous review of my show I found inside my comment book, written by my old friend Hayyim (Howard) Cohen. We worked together side by side in little cubicles selling the newspaper in a tiny downtown office, and became fast friends. He would share his New York Times Arts section with me during breaks.

Megan by Hayyim Cohen

"Combining subversive parody, red (life), black (nothingness) and white (blinding light), duct tape to shut out the noisy excess, upholstery tacks, and the dead bodies of obsolete technical books, Megan Chapman (see your dictionary- "Chapman" means seller) creates lyrical southern "talkin' blues" between the pages of discards (found objects) she collects from the free bins of the Smith Family bookstore in Eugene Oregon.

Providing at her B.F.A. commencement (the beginning of her life as an artist) a comfortable pink sofa with fresh green throw pillows, a little Gene Autry and "A Sunday Kind of Love" musical background for a gathering of "found" people who "read" her books often with whimsical smiling faces.

Megan nails the defunct corpses of old books (now frames for her poems and designs) on the gallery walls with the tacks she loves, this is interspersed with machine blowups of her photographs, which add a nice contrapuntal theme to the shards of books behind the sofa and on the coffee table. Megan is a southern woman and now she has a B.F.A. to nail to the wall when she goes home (tell your Maw,tell your Paw I'm gonna send you back to Arkansas-population 40,002). It is all here in the art, the depths of introspective experience, from one who knows how it all fits together in the package. It's a "found" life for the pack of us, don't you think? Megan has definitely found something...To do and to make a difference, and she does it all with southern hospitality to boot!"

I am so fortunate to have this nugget, and like the art closed up in those old altered books, I thought this needed to be aired out and shared. My friend, Howard did this on his own accord, and I am grateful for his tangents and details; his writing helps me to remember myself at that time, as well as the show and the atmosphere. His words bring back everything about the experience and are even better than a photograph.

Have you ever considered having someone write a piece about your art? Think about asking a friend or fellow artist to write a statement or a review of your work. Perhaps your friends have already left you helpful comments. Have you thought about asking them if you could edit and use them to promote your art? I bet many of you have these nuggets hiding in letters, emails and blogs, just waiting to brushed off and put out there to a larger audience.

Let's set the world on fire...

Take me here often
mixed media on paper
9x6"
Megan Chapman
Paper paintings only at ArtMaven

Looking back, to look forward.

Let's go back in time....

February 28 1998
"...This term is almost over, 2 more weeks till finals and then spring break. This term has been pretty good. I like my art classes and my Spanish teacher is good. I've really enjoyed Photography and my teacher Lorena. Sculpture has been okay, I've done one project I like. Painting is okay too, I like my teacher again. Next term I am taking painting, drawing, Spanish, and independent study (more painting). It should be interesting. During spring break I'm going to clean out the basement for my studio. My friend Krista gave me a really nice book on Basquiat, it is a really nice book. I have been doing a little research into the NYC art scene of the 80's. Reading Keith Harring's journal. By reading his journal, I have much more of an appreciation for him and his art. He is a good thinker and writer. I am just so curious about what makes people create art, and do I have the need to create? Why am I in Art school? Am I really passionate about anything?I feel like a faker sometimes, I am not obsessed with art and it seems like you need to be in order to create good things. I don't know. Also, after reading Keith's journal mine looks like JR. High school. I don't contemplate or analyze. I need to think more, (less in some cases though)..."

April 18 1998
"...I'm painting a really big painting and I'm kinda stuck. It bugs me, but time will solve it, I 'm sure. Sometimes, I forget I'm expressing myself. It seems like I get lost and go on someone else's emotion (music) etc. The apartment is trashed because of my painting..."

Almost a year's gap...

March 19 1999
"...It is Spring break, I only have ten more weeks of college left and I'll have my B.F.A. in painting. Exciting and Scary. After school, heading back to Fayetteville in August. To do what, I don't know... I have tons of ideas but who knows what will really happen. I just turned 27. Seems older than 25 or 26, getting close to 30!..."

April 5 1999
"... I am on campus waiting to have my review with my painting teacher, Laura Vandenburg, she wants to see what we've been up to. I want to remember some of my painting and art teacher's names in case they get famous...

• Ron Graff- painting/drawing
  
• Carla Bengston- painting/drawing
  
• Cara Tomlinson- painting/drawing
  
• Laura Vandenburg- painting
  
• Dora Natella- sculpture/design
  
• Lorena Turner- photography
  

I've had some really good teachers here..."

April 10 1999
"... my BFA terminal show is in 5 weeks. I have so much work to do but I've been having some good ideas. I better jot them down before I forget them..." (see image to the left for these ideas)

April 16 1999
"... Back to Art, my show is in 4 weeks. I am not doing any work. I can't motivate. I can't write, it takes too much effort like everything else. Maybe- I should just have another coke and see what's on TV..."



April no date 1999
"...my life is a mess yet calm and proceeding right on schedule too. My show is in 2 weeks, and of course I will graduate in June. My hands look old..."

May 12 1999
"... my show is on Monday! I'm excited but nervous too. What if they don't get it? What if they don't take the time? I just want to hide. My face gets all hot, red, and stingy when I talk about my show. I spaz out about it, too excited and sweaty, it leaves me tired and wanting a drink. I am listening to Tom Waits- Rain dogs. Sometimes he sounds so right..."

May 21 1999
"... Well. Today is the last day of my show. I'm sitting in it. It comes down in about 3 hours. The opening was a big success. I was pleased. People responded the way I had hoped. They sat on the couch and they read the books. They laughed, they read out loud, they seemed touched. Of course some people just walk by. Some are confused and don't know what to do. It is a bit sad when they look over at my work and just walk on by, so into only what is on the walls. They don't want to touch, dirty old books. Anyway, it was a good experience, I kept costs low, but gave a good show. I stuck to my guns whether or not it was completely accepted.

I will always want more..."

Flow along with the tide

The type written text on my old painting to the left says " ...day to day. Each of us should be willing to flow along with the tide and not set up resistance against anything that comes. This is necessary so that growth and redemption can occur." I wish I could say where this text originated, all I know is that it came from a free bin book I retrieved from the Smith Family bookstore in Eugene Oregon. The text then became a part of my art in the book series I did in 1999 for my B.F.A terminal project. This message has come up for me in many places in my life, and was an unexpected gift when I started writing my blog today.

I was stumped for the first time, I just didn't know what to tell you this week. Then I thought about returning to my origins and sharing some of my older work with you and the process that inspired it. I knew I liked this piece of mine, but I didn't remember this powerful note on the cover. Those words must have struck a chord with me when I was 27 and they still do today at 35. There is so much resistance to battle inside ourselves, especially when it comes to creativity. I remember that book was supposed to be my artistic version of an imagined "cult deprogramming manual." I put duct tape on the spine of this flimsy book, painted it a stark white and glued my red and black paintings in the middle of the taped together and painted white pages. The idea was that the imagined cult member would look at the book and the images would reset their memories and they would be restored to the person their family remembered from before the cult. This was when assuming characters and scenarios were an important part of my work. In school anything was possible as long as I could convince my professors of it being authentic and fully considered. Nothing was for sale, so I was truly free to explore all the levels of my creativity. It was hard, and sometimes ridiculous "art school" fodder but it was so rewarding. Today, I explore my creativity, dream up stories and conceptualize my current work as well, but it has changed.

The photograph below is the first black and white photo I made and developed in a dark room. I took one photography class while in school. It was the most nerve wracking experience. I was always a nervous mess in that class. I was so out of my element, but I found a voice inside of me that I never would have known about, if I hadn't done it. The dark room for that term became my anxious friend, long hours in that warm darkness with the chemicals. I felt so accomplished when I spent time in there.

The photographs I took were all about detachment and abandoned living. I was living in a slum apartment in downtown Eugene that I dearly loved. I loved it because of its decrepit beauty. The enchanting style of the 1930's courtyard apartment was still easy to see even with the gangs and junkies nodding off on the stoops. The cast of characters that lived in the apartment became my family and sometimes my subjects. This photo captured one of my neighbors on his stoop, a day in the life. He was extremely tall and lanky and I liked his fluid movements.

We all have origins to our art, I am now known for my use of color washes and texture but the origins of my work are black and white with dark dirty colors and text. What makes us do the work we do and what makes us change? I was living in Oregon, and feel sure the rain and atmosphere of where I lived helped to inform my work at the time. The freedom of being able to create art for art's sake while living frugally on my student loans and work study surely influenced my work as well.

Here is another page from "the cult deprogramming manual," and this was my favorite page of the book. The book consisted of a cover image
(at the top of this post) three images inside, and then an image on the back cover. On this page, I loved the way the charcoal and white gesso swirl together to create a cloud like form. I actually think this piece is one my favorite pieces I have ever created, yet it remains closed up inside this book, except for times like this when I pull it out. That was another thing about my books, the paintings were closed up tight and not on display. They required action by the viewer to get to them and to receive them. At this stage all my peers in school were painting large glossy abstract paintings, and I was vehemently opposed to them. I enjoyed their work but at the time I didn't want to go along with the crowd. I now make much larger, sometimes glossy abstract paintings full of color and I am not living off my student loans anymore, in fact I have paid them all off. I may have compromised, but I have also expanded my ideas as needed to fill a need in myself and others. Back to that statement above, "...day to day. Each of us should be willing to flow along with the tide and not set up resistance against anything that comes. This is necessary so that growth and redemption can occur." See how this keeps making sense?

There are many serious artists, art lovers and collectors in the world. There are also people with plenty of judgements. I think artists are the harshest judges of themselves and their work and each other. We want to make "real" art, not something easy to digest and gentle on the eye. We want to stretch, we want to impress, we want to feel something and for others to feel it as deeply as we do. Yet, to live this artistic life money is now required. Sometimes we resist this, sometimes we hesitate and we second guess our authenticity.

In this photograph, on the left side is an old and abandoned child's wheel chair, and on the right a close up detail. This was found in the "prop closet" in the drawing room at the University. What always struck me were the wooden toys across the arms of the seat. How long was this child going to be in this chair? I had never seen a chair like this. The toy's wooden beads were now faded, and an old colander was in the seat. I liked how beaten up it was. At the time the photo was made I was focused on the objects beauty but I was also probably grateful that I was never required to draw these items.

Where are your works' origins? Do you question the work you are doing? Are you making the work you want to be making? Will you compromise in order to really make a go at this? And how much? Are you judging yourself or others too harshly? All I can say, as I ask myself these same questions is... Keep moving forward, keep flowing, and keep fighting.

My Experience

Before I get into talking too much about Art making, marketing, promoting and all that... I thought it would be helpful to talk about my background a bit. I am a visual artist. I paint mixed media and oil paintings on canvas. I have been showing my work for more than ten years, and I am currently represented by 4 galleries and have many exhibits scheduled. I get asked questions all the time about how to get representation, how to market and promote art and artists, and it is a subject I love. I am one of those reportedly rare artists who loves to promote art almost as much as I love to make it.

I always loved to draw and paint when I was a small child and young teen and then I took a break from visual art to focus more on Drama when I was in High School. In my senior year I decided to explore art again, and that rekindled my desire to paint and draw. When I finally decided to go to College I chose art again. I graduated from the University of Oregon with a BFA in painting. This of course is the short version of my background, there was also much time spent wondering if my art was good enough, if I was passionate enough, if this could be done for a living, and also lots of time spent working odd and not glamorous jobs.

I worked in a secondhand store for free clothes, I worked in a BBQ place that was most likely a front for something. I nervously ran a cash register at a huge smoke house/bakery. I washed dishes for years in fine dining to fresh Mex restaurants. Also before my restaurant career, I sold things, and I would sell things off an on for years, and I never thought much about it. I never thought that this skill might prove useful one day.. I have sold studio portraits from a leader in the industry, I have sold newspapers in Arkansas, and Oregon, I have made sales appointments for the driveway, siding, window man to come to your house and give you an estimate. That was truly awful and I have to say they let me go from that one...and I was grateful. I stripped beds and cleaned rooms at an old hotel that no longer stands. I have read text books onto tape for the blind. I have been a personal assistant. I have conducted phone surveys for the University of Arkansas and the Louisiana school for the blind. I have gotten people to sign petitions for animals. I've asked the community to come together and give money and school supplies to a local school while being an AmeriCorp worker. I have written an art column for a online version of a local paper.

So what... Well, the reason I told you of all of those jobs, and I am sure I have left off a few, is that even though they were not the greatest and had little to do with art, they most likely have helped me do what I am doing today as an artist.These jobs have either taught me something I needed to know like -"I hate using cash registers." Or, that I really don't mind washing dishes, so if things fall apart I have options...Seriously, these jobs helped me to learn how to read people. Selling the paper, photos, and anything else I have sold over the phone helped me learn basic sales techniques. These jobs have also taught me how fortunate I am now to do what I am doing for a living.

Life is messy, I say this like I know and accept this. I have a hard time with this concept still. I really wish it wasn't. I am just a person who did art, stopped doing it, did it again, worked a bunch of jobs, learned about art again, and then decided to get out of my own way and go for it. This blog is about how I got out of my way, skills I learned in the process, and the resources I consulted to get me where I am now. I am still growing and learning and I don't have all the answers, but I feel obligated to share what has worked for me with all the other artists out there.
So here goes...