When I was working in Oakland for Randy Berger, the real estate developer and landlord, he decided to remodel the old Lake Merritt Hotel which he owned. While going through the rooms, with many featuring their own kitchens, I noticed vintage ice box doors that were built into the walls of most of the kitchens. The ice box panel doors had long since been nailed shut with the original solid brass door hinges and latches still attached and painted over. I asked my supervisor what the plan was regarding these old ice box doors and was told they would remain in place and simply nailed shut, but the hardware had to be removed so that after the new paint job the doors would appear as basic paneling on the wall. Of course I asked if I could keep the hardware and just then knew I wanted to create paintings that utilized a similar style ice box door that opened and closed on a panel frame backing.
I was excited by this new idea and tried not to think too hard about how a painting image would work in this ice box context. The way I liked to paint didn't allow for too much pre-planning or consideration as to subject matter or logistics regarding potential ice box style doors. First things first, I had to make it my priority to remove all the sets of door hinges and latches that I could get my hands on, before anyone else decided they wanted in on any of the hardware too. Luckily no one else was interested so I was able to get a couple of dozen sets that were still in relatively good condition. Once home I had to soak all the painted brass in a tri-sodium phosphate bath over a few days time to allow the paint to slowly wrinkle up and separate from the brass, making it easier for me to gently scrape off.
The photos above show the construction of the first Ice Box Prototype, and I was clearly happy with the prospect of a creating a composition featuring a painting within a painting.
This first prototype Ice Box painting is actually one overall painting underneath the plain painted door. I decided to leave the center panel section out of the door to provide a window to the painting underneath. The two Ice Box paintings that followed have solid doors allowing for two different overall paintings depending on if the door is closed or open.
I remember randomly seeing something on TV about weaving, and while I had no prior interest in creating what is called "textile art" or "fiber art," I did arrive at an idea to create the basic Club and Spade suits by weaving their shapes with twine through a sealed masonite backboard. I love the texture of twine, a sort of messy string, and had to figure out the proper number of holes to drill through the masonite to allow me to weave enough twine through to create enough of a twine-surface to paint on. I liked the quality of the finish painted twine I had already used on my Broken Canvases, and so it seemed obvious to continue using it for these Woven Suit paintings.
After finishing Paintings 76, 77, 78, 80, 81 and 82 which introduced the Club & Spade suits into my work, I felt these two enigmatic suits hanging out in the back of my mind and heard them requesting to be utilized again. Unlike my other subject matter and unlike the Broken Canvases, the Club & Spade suits had already established themselves as unique subject matter, and did not seem to want to just be a part of other compositions. At least not yet. The Clubs and Spades needed their own stage to put on their own show, so to speak. So when I decided to try this strange idea of weaving with twine, the Clubs and Spades pushed their way to the front of my mind and declared themselves candidates of such an effort.
What's funny to me now is how challenging the initial weaving was to get right and to complete. Like the unfinished Broken Canvas structures, the weaving itself was quite a bit of work and were lovely to look at even before I added the paint. I had a certain amount of obsessive energy when I made these paintings, and my energy drove me past any logical reasoning and pushed me into the reality of creating both "tight" and "loose" woven Club and Spade layouts. I think I constructed the three tight weave layouts first and then decided to ease up on myself and make the three loose weave layouts afterwards, which were much less work to initially create. And all the while during weaving these six pieces I didn't know how I was going to paint them. But it didn't matter, the Clubs and Spades were in full control and all I needed to do was follow their lead.
Because of the thick woven texture of the unfinished Tight Weave Suit paintings, I was initially unsure about how to paint over the gessoed twine. Painting the standard way with brushes wouldn't allow me to get enough coverage or deep into the tightly woven suits. So I decided to thin out my acrylic paint and use a spoon to drip and pour the paint over the twine and also over the canvas pieces that I utilized with the loose weave paintings, ala Jackson Pollock. It was fun to figure out how to paint like this having never done it before, and then to negotiate how many colors to get the finished effect I was looking for. These were the first paintings that emphasized a very simple composition with each suit standing alone in the picture and I felt the multi-colored woven twine produced enough "action" to justify such a singular composition. Installing the brass and porcelain hardware at the end just seemed to be the perfect icing on the proverbial cake, adding a bit of architectural design to the otherwise stoic suits.
I was surprised and pleased at what was transpiring between me and the Clubs and Spades. Making these six Woven Suits paintings was altogether unknown and new to me. It was clear that the two suits were dictating their desire to be seen, but they weren't exactly explaining themselves to me. As I worked on these paintings I kept thinking, "Ok, now what?! What are you and what do you want?" These iconic Woven Suits were now squarely in my face, silently demanding that I take notice, perhaps even putting me on notice. They appeared like sentinels yet were gentle, ready to defend their keep but in a profound and subtle fashion.
After completing these six Woven Suit paintings I still had little knowledge as to their "what or why" but knew I would be instructed with plans for their next appearance, just as clearly as I was instructed by them prior to making these six paintings. In my case this artist always becomes his art, but in the case of these Woven Suits it seemed that the Clubs and Spades might now be painting the painter...