Young Min Moon
Young Min Moon,Immobile Parts for Sale #20, 2002,
acrylic, marker, ink on canvas,
36 x 24 inches,
collection of Annette Lemieux
My work addresses the powerlessness of the immobile
and voiceless. Paintings in the recent series Immobile Parts for
Sale are littered with unwanted bicycle parts, which are no longer
capable of producing desired speed or power, yet celebrated by
cheerful color spots and other formal arrangements. Objects meander
and float about, as the paint is applied freely, suggestive of
motion, speed, and controlled chance elements. The images are potentially
erotic as well. Tensions between belief and doubt are highlighted
as I seek to corrupt the legacy of purity in abstraction. The representation
of hands signing in the series Against Homogenizing Impulses addresses
the ambivalent relationship maintained by a minority to any “official” language,
artistic or otherwise. While seemingly playful and joyful at the
surface, my paintings convey subtle political messages without
relinquishing visual pleasure. My work only appears to belong to “mainstream” art,
yet it is not easily categorized as art of the “Other.” Recently,
I have utilized aleatory elements, including color samples of paint
from Home Depot and images culled from illustrators’ idiom
dictionaries. These predetermined elements are juxtaposed against
my impulse to compose and order a wide spectrum of color and imagery.
In short, my work is an aggregation of “hands-on” and “hands-off” as
well as pure and impure elements of abstraction.
- Young Min Moon
Melissa Schulenberg, Pod, 2002,
24 x 36 inches
“When one pays attention to
the present, there is great pleasure in the awareness of small
- Peter Matthiessen
For the past decade, I have lived a nomadic life,
crisscrossing my way around the country, a quiet observer of various
and environments. Escaping to the mountains, coast, or prairie
has provided a solitude that has kept me grounded and given
me a sense of ownership in these temporary locales. I look
treasures: thorns, bones, tufts of deer hair. Observations
of these organic remnants lead to intimate visual explorations
abstractions—I examine a seed pod, draw it as simply
as possible, then put it away. Everything else is a direct
of the drawing
or printing process and my memory of specific locations.
Ultimately, an object manifests itself into a new reality,
its source, yet maintaining an essence of its origins. Viewers
these compositions as examinations of small objects seen
magnified or as microscopic details, as I confound micro-
Each work contains infinity; each contains its own time and
- Melissa Schulenberg
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The Unforgiving Pace of Progress
China's Three Gorges Dam
Photographs by Steven Benson,
Steven Benson, Qutang Gorge, Fengjie, 1999, gelatin silver print
The Three Gorges Dam, 610 feet high and 1.3 miles wide, will
create a reservoir on the Yangtze River fifty miles longer than
Lake Michigan. As the largest concrete object on the planet, it
will ultimately force more than two million people to vacate their
homes and disrupt the lives of 30 million people who live in the
region. The reservoir will flood 8,000 known archaeological sites;
250,000 acres of China's most fertile farmland; and 1,600 factories,
many of which have been burying toxic materials in the ground for
the past fifty years. Scientists fear that lead, mercury, arsenic
and dozens of other substances, including radioactive waste, will
leach into the river’s watershed.
Dr. Sun Yat-sen, considered to be the father of the Chinese Republic,
initially discussed the project in 1919 as part of his Plan for
National Reconstruction. The dam was also of great interest to
his successors, including Nationalist leader Chiang Kai-shek ,
as well as Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping, though it never generated
strong support. However, in the wake of the Tiananmen Square protest
in 1989, the government needed to bolster national pride. The collapse
of the Soviet Union was an additional motivating factor, and in
1992, Premier Li Peng, a Russian-trained hydro-engineer, pushed
the project through the National People’s Congress; one-third
of the delegates voted against the dam or abstained. Construction
began in 1994.
The Chinese government cites three principal reasons to build the
dam: to generate 11% of the country’s electricity (the equivalent
of 18 nuclear power plants), reducing its need for coal-burning
facilities; to control the Yangtze’s devastating annual floods
which have claimed the lives of more than 300,000 people during
the last century; and to improve the standard of living in one
of the most impoverished parts of the country by allowing 10,000-ton
ships to move goods in and out of the heart of China. As part of
a 14-hour television broadcast celebrating the blocking of the
Yangtze on November 8, 1997, President Jiang Zemin noted, “This
proves vividly once again that Socialism is superior in being capable
of concentrating resources to do big jobs. Since the twilight of
history, the Chinese nation has been engaged in the great feat
of conquering, developing, and exploiting nature.”
On June 10, 2003 at 10:00 p.m., the reservoir began to fill,
reaching a depth of 425 feet in spite of the 100 cracks that
in 1999 running the full height of the upstream face of the dam.
The cracks were repaired, only to reopen. Chinese engineers claim
this is common, but others suggest it is due to the improper
curing of concrete. In 2009, the reservoir is expected to reach
completing the flooding of 13 cities, 140 towns, and 1,352 villages.
- Steven Benson
from The Cost of Power in China:
The Three Gorges Dam and the Yangtze River Valley
Jennifer Lim, Disembarking at Fengdu,
August 2002, gelatin silver print
“ The push to disembark was
so disorienting that I worried about forgetting which [sightseeing
ship] was mine. Traffic at the ports
along the Yangtze was tremendous, and three to four boats would
anchor themselves one to the other.”
Ben Sandler, Wushan Falling, November 2002, chromogenic color print
“Dust fills the air in the
demolition zone as buildings are toppled. Everything is being
salvaged: bricks, wire, metal,
frames, pipes, etc.”
For more information about the artists, see:
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Sacred Tibetan Buddhist Thangka Paintings
Manjushri, Tibet, 19th century, mineral pigments on cloth,
collection of Shelley and Donald Rubin
I awaken before dawn to the sound of monks chanting at the Shechen Monastery
next door. By 8:00 a.m. I arrive at the Tsering Art School where I’ll
be learning to draw and paint traditional Tibetan Buddhist thangkas. The
tinkling of chimes, disharmonious to my ear, calls the students to gather.
enters the room by prostrating three times in front of an altar with a poster
of the Dalai Lama smiling down at us. Sitting in predetermined spots on the
floor, fifty students sit side by side on cushions in a hot but airy room;
the most advanced Tibetan and Nepalese students face the rest of us. I sit
in the back row with others from Australia, the Philippines, Germany, and
France. The teachers walk in last, and we stand to greet them. We pray for
reciting in Tibetan the Seven-Limb Prayer, the Lineage Prayer, and others. Dak sok drokun changchub partu lama choksum kiapsu nyen (I and all beings take
refuge until enlightenment ). Each day is devoted to a different deity: Monday
to Sakyamuni Buddha, Tuesday to Tara, Wednesday to Guru Rinpoche, etc. Two
days a week, there are special dharma teachings in Tibetan.
In the mornings, we draw freehand for two hours using sharpened bamboo
sticks on wooden slates prepared with ghee and talc. The teacher draws a simple
leaf in the corner of my slate, and I spend the next two classes trying
it exactly. No one is interested in my personal expression. After the teacher
approves my work, I erase the whole thing with a rag and prepare the wooden
slate again. Little is permanent in this endeavor.
Two weeks pass, and I’m allowed to move up to a chrysanthemum blossom.
I take pictures of my work to show my friends at home, and the other students
laugh at this as they draw the graceful hands, feet and face of the Buddha.
Some draw intricate, wrathful deities, spending close to a week on detailed
renderings, erasing their work after the teacher permits. In the afternoons,
we paint with watercolors. The teacher applies the pigment so delicately,
brushing leaves and clouds with graceful strokes….
The intention to create or view a Tibetan Buddhist thangka painting is
enlightenment for all sentient beings and to be able to change [our]
minds to that of the Buddha’s mind or realm…[in order] to
emotions.”1 The idea of painting as a spiritual or sacred act,
an offering, had not occurred to me in this way before, having been trained
to make and
exhibit objects. Yet as visual prayers, thangkas function in
terms of both product and process. As objects, they are used to visualize
of particular deities or to understand the nature of emptiness, for example.
for the artist, the creation of a thangka is a meditative offering guided
by pure intentions related to dharma teachings.
- Cathy Tedford, Director
Kathmandu, Nepal, June 2003
1David and Janice Jackson. Tibetan Thangka Painting, Methods
Ithaca, NY; Snow Lion Publications, 1984.
Stupa, Tibet, 18th century, mineral pigments on cloth,
collection of Shelley and Donald Rubin
Thangkas from the Shelley and Donald
Rubin Collection, the Rubin Museum of Art, and St. Lawrence University’s
Permanent Collection are on display. In addition, Kalsang Tsering Sherpa, a
monk from the Tsering Art
the Shechen Institute of Traditional Tibetan Art, is
in residence from March 1 through 12 to create a thangka painting.
Photograph by Jakob Leschly
Kalsang Tsering was born in Baudhanath, Kathmandu, in 1981 and was placed
in the Shechen Monastery when he was eleven years old to begin monastic
When Konchog Lhadrepa started to teach thangka painting there in 1996, Kalsang
had finished his preliminary studies and was asked whether he would like
to train in the ritual or philosophical colleges of the monastery, or in
school. He said he would like to make art, and Shechen Rabjam Rinpoche agreed
this would be best for him. Kalsang was the first student at the Tsering
Art School and graduated in 2001. He now teaches there.
Special thanks to Charlotte Davis, Vivian Kurz, and Lisa Arcomano.
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Journey to Enlightenment
Photographs by Matthieu Ricard
- February 26 – April 3, 2004
For me, photography is a hymn to beauty. In 1967, I traveled to
Darjeeling, India, and met my first spiritual teacher, Kangyur
Rinpoche. After he died in 1975, I spent twelve years with Dilgo
Khyentse Rinpoche, the archetype of a spiritual teacher, someone
whose inner journey led him to an extraordinary depth of knowledge
and enabled him to be a fountain of loving kindness, wisdom, and
compassion. Over the years, I have photographed teachers, hermits,
and yogis who are living examples of what they teach. The messenger
has become the message. What they show outwardly is who they are
within, without contradictions. Their contentment is not due to
mere pleasurable feelings but is an expression of a sense of serenity
and fulfillment that arises from exceptionally healthy minds.
According to Buddhist teachings, Buddha-nature is present in every
living being, and the natural state of one’s mind, when not
misconstrued under the power of negative thoughts, is perfection.
Positive qualities, such as a good heart, are believed to reflect
the true and basic fabric of human beings. Yet even in intense
suffering there can be dignity; even in the face of persecution
and destruction there can be hope. This is particularly true for
Tibet and its people, who have succeeded in retaining their joy,
inner strength, and confidence while being subjected to a human
and cultural genocide.
These photographs provide a glimpse of a Tibetan Buddhist teacher’s
life and a unique culture that, despite the upheavals in its homeland,
still survives. It is an amazing experience to be in many places
in Tibet, in the presence of beings whose hearts are filled with
altruism and wisdom, and to try to mingle your mind with their
minds. The intense silence, the immensity of the landscape, the
deep blue sky and crisp air are such that when you sit there, you
want to remain in the limpid harmony between the environment and
your own serene mind. So, portraits and landscapes can lead you
from an understanding of outer beauty to the inner beauty of spiritual
awakening and the boundless human qualities that accompany it,
as the warmth and light of rays naturally accompany the sun.
Tibetans of all ages, their faces expressing unshakable devotion,
receive blessings from one of the last spiritual teachers
active in eastern Tibet, 2001
Matthieu Ricard, an internationally respected writer,
translator, and photographer highly regarded for his scholarship
and knowledge of Buddhism and Tibetan culture, has lived and worked
in the Himalayan region for the last thirty years. Born in France
in 1946, he grew up in the intellectual and artistic circles of
Paris studying classical music, ornithology, and photography. After
completing his doctoral thesis in 1972 in molecular biology at
the renowned Institut Pasteur, Ricard decided to forsake his scientific
career and concentrate on Tibetan Buddhist studies. He lived in
the Himalayas with the greatest living teachers of that tradition
and became the disciple and attendant of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche,
one of the most eminent Tibetan masters of the 20th century. Ricard,
a Buddhist monk, resides at Shechen Monastery in Nepal. Since 1989,
he has often accompanied His Holiness the Dalai Lama to France
as his personal interpreter.
For three decades, Ricard has photographed the spiritual masters,
landscapes, and people of Tibet, Nepal, India, and Bhutan. He is
the author and photographer of Journey to Enlightenment (Aperture,
1996; republished in 2001 as The Spirit of Tibet) and has collaborated
with Olivier and Danielle Föllmi on Buddhist Himalayas (Abrams,
2002). Henri Cartier-Bresson said of his work, “Matthieu’s
spiritual life and his camera are one, from which springs these
images, fleeting and eternal.”
Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, 1988
The photographs in this exhibition were loaned by Aperture Foundation,
New York, and by the artist. Special thanks also to Vivian Kurz.
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Doctor's Cuts: Prints by Eric Avery
Eric Avery, Dear Robert, 2000, linoleum block
on digital photograph, ed. 10, 44 x 35 1/4 in., photograph
by Roger Haile
I first met Dr. Eric Avery through a letter from Somalia. He
was working as a doctor in a refugee camp with thousands of
human beings who were starving to death. A photograph in Life
shows Eric in the middle of the camp that stretched for miles,
a figure at dusk holding up a tiny baby into the light, silhouetted
by dusty tents. It was there that Eric started to make woodcuts—to
record the terrible sights he had seen and, as his scalpel
cut into the wood, as therapy.
If you are fortunate enough to be a friend
of Eric’s, you
will receive woodcut cards of plants and birds, shells and
trees, as purely and simply illustrated as engravings by the
British naturalist Thomas Bewick. That would be sufficient
for most artists, but for Eric, harsh truth is as urgently beautiful.
uses science and art in tandem to heal. He transmutes the chaff
of suffering into art. Eric always says “life before
art” as he plunges into healing the victims of society
wherever he finds them—in crack houses, on death row—refugees
on the broken borders of life or death, the poor, the abandoned.
They become alive in his art; their content creates his form.
His work as an artist/psychiatrist treating patients with
HIV has become a document of historical record and is as
and powerful as any Dürer woodcut. It is the antibody
to our disease of distance. Dominant culture flattens all experience,
rendering reality into irony. We no longer trust ourselves
experience life directly. Eric makes art in the tradition of
reportage; there is a direct emotional involvement with his
subjects, a witnessing that is devoid of sentiment. The humility
woodcuts depicting faces of cherished patients, printed on
paper that is made from hospital sheets or the clothing of
subverts and unravels the dominant social ideology of power
Sue Coe, artist and author/illustrator
of Pit's Letter (2000) and Dead Meat (1996)
Eric Avery, Blue Smallpox: The Print
of Hope, 1993,
photo relief engraving on linoleum block print
20, 24 x 19 1/4 in.
See www.docart.com for more information about the artist.
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Traveling the Body
Paintings and Drawings
by Kristy Collado ’04
Kristy Collado, untitled digitally manipulated
Line to line connection striving for a direction
Stroke marks creating a new sensation on what is now a formation
Curves gliding past the surface scheming
Gestures load, however contained in the limited space
Repetitive in the mind throughout time
A harmonious flow to the rhythm of the strokes.
The vision comes from an intuition
Representing human bodies which stimulate my intention
Dreams become a window to my subconscious world
These windows facilitate the interpretation that needs to undergo.
highlights are the colors are the
Fun times under the bright sun on Brighton sands
Summer of 2003 marks the beginning of an obsession of figure
These pieces are not forms of adoration; I simply see everyday
Incongruent to the body formation.
Sketch on the beach
Sunbathing, kids playing and pigeons eating is about the most
There is no limit in drawing or painting
Mediums are everywhere.
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Peace Amidst the Roots of Turmoil
Photographs of Armenia by Aram Muksian ’04
Aram Muksian, Climbing toward a Cave at Noravank,
gelatin silver print, 2004
I was a visitor to a country of which
I knew little, and at the same time, of which I knew a great
deal. Dinner-table conversations with family had led to my
longstanding interest in anything Armenian. Over time, I developed
an understanding of a culture that had once flourished yet
was close to extinction as a result of the first genocide of
the 20th century.
During the winter of 2004, I traveled to the capital city of
Yerevan, as well as small towns and villages in the Ararat
Valley and north
to Lake Sevan. In this short time, I met mothers and grandmothers,
cab drivers, bakers, deacons, priests, young soldiers, and many
children who all seemed to share a common vision of a better
future, continuously looking forward while never abandoning
For most Armenians, history is not a detached experience. It
permeates the memories of those who have survived and is reinforced
minds of younger generations by ongoing economic hardship and
present-day border disputes. Despite this, Armenians are often
bound by deep
friendships, generous hospitality, and an enduring national pride
that has served as the backbone of this nascent republic.
Aram Muksian was the recipient of a Sol Feinstone
International Study Prize through the St. Lawrence University’s
Center for International and Intercultural Studies.
Barnes Endowment Annual Juried
Student Art Exhibition
Ruth Bagley-Ayres, Dale,
woodcut, 24 x 11 3/4 in.
Student artwork in all media, including drawing,
painting, photography, sculpture, ceramics, and printmaking, will
be presented in this exhibition organized by the Student Art Union
and the Department of Fine Arts. The Annual Juried Student Art
Exhibition is open to all St. Lawrence University students.
The exhibition is juried by Fritz
Westman, a mixed-media installation artist based in Boston, and
supported by the Carlyle and Betty Barnes Endowment and the Jeanne
Scribner Cashin Endowment for Fine Arts.
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Monday-Thursday 12-8 p.m.
Friday-Saturday 12-5 p.m.
All exhibitions and related educational programs
are free and open to the public. The
Gallery welcomes individuals and groups for guided tours; please
call (315) 229-5174 for information.