5StandardSizes2016ForWeb5 Standard Sizes 2017

Introduction from my new book Meditations

    The original Meditations was a series of personal writings by Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor from 161 to 180 AD, recording his private notes to himself and ideas on Stoic philosophy. Marcus Aurelius wrote the 12 books of the Meditations as a source for his guidance and self-improvement. Kirk’s book, by comparison, is also a kind of reference for guidance and self-improvement, but that is where the similarity ends. This book of Meditations is not about Stoic philosophy; instead, it is an allusion to Zen Meditation. Each of the one hundred two images depicted inside represents a unique moment in time. A moment, during meditative walks, where time stands still and the separation between here and there dissolves to become one.

    Kirk’s motivation for practicing Zazen is to be fully present and at the moment, “Awake,” and experience life as it is. The collection of photographs included in this book took almost ten years to acquire using a smartphone. During this time, Kirk discovered the irony of practicing being present and taking pictures to memorialize his experience. Either you are in the moment with nature or taking photographs. You can’t experience both at the same time. The practice of witnessing a beautiful sunrise or sunset can be exhilarating. The connection you feel with the universe can be palpable. However, when your attention shifts and you decide to “capture” that moment, everything changes. You are still present, but now your concern is with other things like aesthetics. Your focus immediately turns to the mechanics of taking a photograph, such as getting an exciting composition. After the picture is complete, you can get back to experiencing nature, but the moment is different. Everything has changed! Expansive and infinite, the cosmos is simultaneously digitized, cropped, and reduced to a postcard's size.

FAR Bazaar - One Year Ago: Ubuntu ("I am what I am because of who we all are." Boyd Varty)

FarBazaarInstallation_01Ubuntu Installation 2018 #1


A Statement For The 2017 FAR Bazaar Installation at Cerritos College 

    A Career, with a capital C, is often THE singular experience in life we let define us! It begins as a child when we’re asked, “What are you going to be when you grow up?”. It continues as an adult when we meet someone for the first time and queried, “What do you do?”.

    I have taught at Cerritos College for almost three decades, nearly half my life, and on more than one occasion have let my career define me. The space that contains this installation, which is set for demolition soon, was my former office and have a more personal and intimate relationship to it. So, rather than leave it a boxy room of limits and constraints, I have endeavored to create a space that can become an opening, a potentiality for limitless possibilities, even if it’s for only two days.

    In my twenty-five unique plastic figurines, ‘Box of Buddhas,’ five wooden boxes and gift bag template with redacted religious text, there is no one "self-portrait" that can be identified as “me.” That which we call the “self” is a mental construct all of us create that tends to be all-encompassing. It comes from not only our immediate notion of what we perceive as our self, both physical and mental but also abstractions of everything we experience, which include both what I think of as myself and what I think of as “other.” It is something that is ongoing and undergoes constant change throughout our life. We believe that it designates something that is real and exists, but there is nothing that exists that corresponds to our notion of self; it is only an idea. It is this “self” that provides us a complete and seamless, albeit distorted, interpretation of our reality.


FarBazaarInstallation_02Ubuntu Installation 2018 #2

History Via Prosthetic Memories

A Proposal For The 2019 Los Angeles Art Association Exchange Exhibition With Italy 

    The timeline I envision for this exhibition is non-linear. Events in the past, present, and future are interchangeable. Modernity makes possible a new form of memory, which we shall call prosthetic memory, and emerges at the interface between a person and their narrative about the past. In days gone by, we believed that an understanding of art and history is based on our direct experience with it. That is to say, a direct experience was considered an "authentic" experience. However, in the early 20th century, with the emergence of film, this moment of contact occurs where the viewer "stitches" themselves into a broader history. The resulting memory can shape that person's subjectivity, politics, and self.

    The first time I employed this concept was in a series of artworks completed in the early 1990s and titled Wrecks, Accidents, & Collisions, which were postcards announcing upcoming exhibits that only existed as postcards. In the first example, Mary Boone Gallery (See Fig. 01), I used an Artforum Magazine ad image. I digitized, erased, then inserted my work into the gallery, essentially appropriating the space and demonstrating that the establishment, value, and validation of a work of art depends not only on context but, more importantly, a pedigreed provenance. In the second example, I appropriated the iconic image of The Armory Exhibition (1913) (See Fig. 02), which predates the exhibition where Duchamp was to introduce the notion of the "readymade" with his urinal titled R Mutt. In this artwork, I inserted the same pieces from the previous example/show, thus creating my own altered (i.e., prosthetic) memory of that historical event and blurring the boundaries between fact and fiction.

     Fast forward to the year 2016, where the internet and social media have been the dominant sources of our information and experience. We are continuously inundated with information, and it becomes increasingly difficult to discern fact from fiction. But even before the internet, memory has been a tricky thing. Once a moment has passed, we begin the process of "remembering." Remembering is an ongoing activity. We are continually remembering and re-remembering (i.e., reconstructing) past events. That remembering also applies to how we perceive our "self."

    In my unique plastic figurines (See Fig. 03, 03a, 03b, 03c), there is no one "selfie" that can be identified as me. That which we call the self is a mental construct all of us create that tends to be all-encompassing. It comes from our immediate notion of what we perceive as "self," both physical and mental, and abstractions of everything we experience, which include both what I think of as myself and what I think of as "Other." In these figurines, I stitch memories. I construct relationships between myself and history, foreign cultures, popular culture, and my past, resulting in a series of prosthetic memories that begin to "define" me and my relationship to the world. In each memory, I bring the past to the present, the present to the past, and project what the future might be.

    In the image Stitching Prosthetic Memories (Fig. 04), I use a Zuni Frog Pot as the conduit to connect to my grandmother. She immigrated to the United States from Ireland as a young girl to Gallup, New Mexico. When I was a child, she told me stories about her Navajo and Zuni reservations experiences in the early 1900s. I remember these stories most when I think of her. This beautifully crafted Zuni pot, which I still possess, is connected to my grandmother. Still, it also serves as a memory of Native American culture with no direct experience. The construction of memories like these is something that is ongoing and undergoes constant change throughout our life. We believe that it designates something real and exists, but nothing exists that corresponds to our notion of self; it is only an idea.

    In Alison Landsberg's book Prosthetic Memory, she emphasizes that Memories are central to our identity and our understanding of history. "In the movie Bladerunner, the characters understand themselves through various alienated experiences and memories that they accept as their own and subsequently make their own through use… In a compelling scene, Rachel sits down at the piano in Deckard's apartment, lets her hair down, and begins to play. Deckard joins her at the piano. "I remember lessons," she says. "I don't know if it's me or Tyrell's niece." …Deckard says, "You play beautifully." At this point, Deckard, in effect, rejects the distinction between "real" and prosthetic memories. Rachel's memory of lessons allows her to play beautifully, so it matters little whether or not she lived through the lessons."1

    Like Deckard, I no longer choose to differentiate between real and prosthetic memories. What matters most is what I do with these memories, so I make the artworks Wrecks, Accidents, & Collisions, the figurines in Ubuntu, and Stitching Prosthetic Memories. My artwork is non-linear, forever changing, and a work in progress.


1. Landsberg, p. 40-41.


Landsberg, Alison. Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of Mass Culture. New York: Columbia University Press, 2004.




Fig.01_maryBooneFigure 01 - Wrecks, Accidents, & Collisions (Mary Boone Gallery)


Fig.02-armoryExhibitFigure 02 - Wrecks, Accidents, & Collisions (Armory Exhibition 1913)


Fig.03-ubuntuFigure 03 - Prosthetic Self 



Figure 03a - Prosthetic Self (Detail / Duchamp's Urinal)



Figure 03b - Prosthetic Self (Detail / Greek Torso)



Figure 03c - Prosthetic Self (Detail / Sphinx)


Fig.04-prostheticMemoriesFigure 04 - Stitching Prosthetic Memories (Zuni, Grandma, & Me)


A Note About Prosthetic Memories:

    As far as I know, the first person to coin the term was Alison Landsberg in her book Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in the Age of Mass Culture, 2004. In the past, a prosthetic memory was considered like a prosthetic arm, artificial. It's a memory that an oral tradition of stories could acquire. Still, I would expand that to anything we don’t have direct experience with, like the memories we acquire by looking at photographs of ourselves as infants. The experience was real but mitigated by time and the photograph itself.

    However, with the development of technology, that notion of artificiality has been transmuted. The experiences we acquire in the age of mass culture are technically artificial. Still, it doesn’t matter whether or not our experiences are real, like Rachel’s memories of where she learned to play the piano in Bladerunner. What matters is that she plays “beautifully,” and thus, continues to develop additional memories from her actual playing. Through these media: television, film, and the internet, etc., we gain access to memories of events through which we didn’t live but will take on as our own.

This Weekend Is For Remembering


Remembering Cheri Ann Switzer Olney (December 14, 1948 - November 28, 2017)

    It’s truly a joyful experience when you get to see someone you know, love, and respect revel in their passion. For Cheri, one of her passions was reading and her eagerness to engage in an in-depth discussion and share what she learned. One moment in particular that stands out for me was when she, for a brief time, was able to return to school at PCC in the mid-nineties and study Art History. Cheri was ebullient, a giddy school girl, who couldn’t wait to share what she learned with me. It was a treat to see Cheri so happy. Her passion for learning and willingness to share was invigorating, perhaps more for me than it was for her. 

This sunset is for you, Cheri. You will indeed be missed.

Revisiting Humanity, Secrets and Lifetimes - Tami Bahat Solo Exhibition



    I was able to get out to Santa Monica last night for the opening of this amazing exhibit. I encourage all of my students, especially those in my Photoshop classes,  to take some time and see it. It's truly one of the best shows I've seen in a very long time.


    The show is open January 6 - February 8, 2018, at Building Bridges Art Exchange, 2525 Michigan Ave., Unit F2, Santa Monica, CA 90404, |  310.770.1961 | Hours: Tue-Fri 11:30 am - 5:00 pm, Sat 12:00 - 6:00 pm, Closed Mon-Sun