What Remains When the Journey Ends
Diane Reeves is among the artists in RBAG’s annual “Power of Art,” opening Friday
The real power of art begins with the persistence of those people who grapple with it, whether daily or in between mundane chores and obligations. Diane Reeves, one of the original members of RBAG, or the Redondo Beach Art Group, fits the definition of someone who never for a moment abandons her art even when urgent responsibilities draw her elsewhere.
Reeves, a decades-long South Bay resident, mostly in Redondo and Torrance, has several works in RBAG’s eleventh annual “Power of Art” exhibition, opening tomorrow and on view through Sunday at the MA Center, on the corner of Garnet and Catalina.
And then along came digital…
She calls them the “Tangible Residues,” and they can be quickly described as photographs applied to canvas, but with plenty of room from the edges of the photograph to the edges of the canvas. And so Reeves imagines and then paints in the intervening space. But what are these the tangible residues of?
“They’re vacation pictures, basically,” Reeves explains. “They’re what’s left after you go on a trip. This is a residue of a trip.”
Here’s how they came about, these images of mostly landscapes from all over California:
“When we were taking care of my dad, which we did for 8 1/2 years, my brother and sister would arrange between the two of them to get three to five days, and they would come together and take care of my dad and send Richard (Diane’s husband) and I off on a trip. These were always kind of mystery trips because we never knew when they could get off.
“If it was in the cooler part of the year we would head to the desert, and if it was the warmer part of the year we would head up or down the coast. We just traveled, we didn’t make any reservations, and we stopped where we wanted to and saw what we wanted to. I like museums and galleries, and Richard likes car shows and airplane museums.
“So we just traveled, and these pictures are left over.” Later, Reeves says, “I affixed them to recycled canvases.”
Sometimes there’s yet another residue, this being the image that was formerly on the rescued canvas. Occasionally, like pentimenti, it seeps through and yields a ghostly effect, like the blue veins under our skin.
When Reeves takes her brush and extends the background (or foreground and sides) of her photographs she doesn’t remember exactly how the scene looked. However, what she does lay in seems plausible since she’s not adding such things as dinosaurs or (she’ll get the reference) Pokemon figures, but mostly extending what’s already there. The photographs themselves are printed on a variety of papers: beige rice paper, white rice paper, speckled paper, and so on.
At this point one may ask, is Diane Reeves a painter or a photographer?
Well, she’s a little bit of everything, but here’s how she answers:
“I was a professional photographer for 30 years, but when digital came in everybody became a photographer. Richard was a professional photographer, too.
“You can sit around and you can complain because the world has changed and it’s moving faster, and then all of a sudden nobody needs your services anymore because they have their cell phones on them.”
And so Reeves began teaching art to children at the Torrance Cultural Art Center.
Trying this, trying that
Earlier I mentioned that Reeves was one of those artists who managed to make art while navigating around time- and energy-draining responsibilities. In her case it centered around becoming a caregiver for her parents, especially her father, and even for Richard’s mother.
“I never stopped working,” she says, “but during the time that we were with my dad I stopped promoting (my art). I wasn’t in a lot of shows because I just didn’t have the energy.”
Reeves and her family had lived in Redondo Beach for 35 years when circumstances prompted their move to Torrance, into her father’s home near the Roadium, which is close to El Camino College. The change of residence was important. “I lost my darkroom when we moved in with my dad,” Reeves says. Like most men of a certain generation who relied on the culinary and housekeeping prowess of their wives, Reeves’ father required a helping hand, or in this case a few helping hands.
He wasn’t the only one who had to adjust.
“I had to switch completely to digital,” Reeves says, “which started me printing on handmade papers.” And this also led to her making larger prints and then printing on all kinds of material, such as Mylar, which she did for last year’s “Power of Art.”
I seem to recall, I tell her, that you do a lot of experimental stuff.
“Oh, I do a lot of experimental stuff!” Reeves says, laughing.
For a long time she made black-and-white prints that she hand-colored. She did a fortune cookie series, and then scrolls with scenes from Redondo’s Pacific Crest Cemetery where people had decorated gravesites for the holidays. She also did a series of woven photographs, which began with images she’d first torn apart. She’s printed images on big sheets of rice paper and made them into kites, and recently has begun installation pieces with dolls in them. An ongoing series, that seems more personal to her, is one called the “Lamentations,” and it concerns the end of life. “I would like it to be seen in one big chunk,” she says, “but I haven’t finished it yet.”
These projects and others like them provided Reeves with a creative outlet during times of stress and uncertainty. “It did save me,” she says of her art; “it got me through all the years with my dad. I have to say it made a big difference in my life.”
What should draw anyone to Diane Reeves is her good nature, her vitality, and the fact that she continues to make art and to experiment with different styles and techniques. A great deal of our conversation, which mainly fell outside of our focus on her work as it pertains to the “Power of Art,” had to do with music, principally artists in their 50s, 60s, even 70s, who continue to write and record, often exploring new subjects while they’re at it. “One of the things I like about Bob Dylan,” Reeves says, “is that whether you like his new music or not, he’s still creating. And that to me is very important.”
Also, and this is quite heartening, and not what one would expect from a grandmother whose hair began graying at age 17, Reeves remains open to new artists, new groups, new music. No one will ever accuse her of being set in her ways.
Most of the older musicians we spoke about achieved success on their own terms, and made the records they wanted to make. That is, they didn’t compromise their vision just to sell a bunch of albums, and Reeves seems to have the same mindset.
Of her art, she says, “I’m making it for me, and when I’m finished if somebody wants to buy it I’m fine, okay, you can buy it. I have a few collectors but I don’t care if I sell or not, I just make the art. It’s important to me that I make art.”
Power of Art 2016, juried and curated by Sarah Lee, features some 35 artists and many outstanding works. The exhibition opens tomorrow, Friday, from 7 to 10 p.m. (valet parking available), at the MA Center, 128 S. Catalina Ave., located on the corner of Garnet and Catalina, in Redondo Beach. Also Saturday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., and Sunday from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Admission is free. There is also an artists’ gift gallery, curated by Rosine Sörbom, a fanciful birdhouse auction, a gift basket opportunity drawing, a workshop, and more. Put on your sandals and come on down. To learn more, go to rbag.org. ER
