Chicago | Los Angeles | Miami | New York | San Francisco | Santa Fe
Amsterdam | Berlin | Brussels | London | Paris | São Paulo | Toronto | China | India | Worldwide
 
New York

Diane Golden

Indicator-greybk-0576b3776febf9f4be8e16c49bdf76da
 
  • 20120503165242-sheartmachine
  • 20120503172147-s_monolith
  • 20120503172609-snestingbird
  • 20120503172447-s_badbunnies
  • 20120503172800-spetitions
  • 20120503172930-s_wings
  • 20120504004055-sskulleye
  • 20120504004238-searthchest
 



20120503165227-a-sdiane_golden

Birthplace
Illinois

Lives in
Warrensburg NY

Works in
Warrensburg NY

Website

Tags
sculpture, assemblage, collage mixed-media

Statement

The form of the art I make is not new; the idea of “things” contained and arranged in boxes is ancient and cross-cultural - think of Mexican nichos, Andean retablos, and Buddhist ghau shrines. We are intrigued by what a box has hidden inside and wonder what it will reveal when opened. I like to engender that anticipation, and hope my constructions will surprise or even startle the viewer. I am fascinated by the process of transformation. All things of earth - animal, vegetable and mineral - are mutable. It is in their nature to constantly change form. There may be an “end” process - decay, decomposition, death - but something remains. A body becomes bones, flowers become seed and stalk, rock grinds to sand. To me there is comparable beauty in each altered state. Here in the Adirondacks, the harshness of the weather scours the landscape. Each winter the sleet, snow and powerful winds beat down the flora and fauna. The end of winter is a time of resurrection. New forms emerge from the fallen trees and broken branches. Stones rise and root masses push through icy soil. Often the modified forms have acquired (or revealed) anthropomorphic characteristics; these are qualities I exploit in my constructions. An old dump site on my property holds a hundred years’ worth of trash, gradually buried by rotting leaves. Each spring the thawing ground spews bits and pieces to the surface. I love the patina of these objects, created first by handling and use, then by time. Nature re-uses glass, filling bottles with moss and weeds. Wood and steel tool parts, riddled with fissures, edges softened by decay, are transfigured into small sculptures. Tin and copper, chain and wire rust to mellow shades of orange, brown and slatey blue. Sometimes I need to dig in the loamy soil to release the captive objects. Those that catch my eye get a casual brushing on their way to the studio. There, bins, baskets and tabletops spill over with treasure (or junk, depending on your perspective), both manmade and natural. Shelves are filled with animal ribs and skulls, plant pods. seeds and branches, all manner of unidentifiable fragments of wood, metal and leather. Boxes, dozens of boxes, are piled in every corner and under every table. The parts I select for a box may seem, initially, disparate and without connection. But I have a sense that particular bits and pieces were meant to reassemble into a specific new “whole”. As I join one form to another, I know when I have found the place they were meant to be. The longer I live and work as an artist in the Adirondacks, the more my work changes. As I am assimilated into the wilderness, so too is the art - it get “wilder” and more naturalistic. And certainly darker. The woods, after all, are both beautiful and just a little scary. Diane Golden March, 2012

The form of the art I make is not new; the idea of “things” contained and arranged in boxes is ancient and cross-cultural - think of Mexican nichos, Andean retablos, and Buddhist ghau shrines. We are intrigued by what a box has hidden inside and wonder what it will reveal when opened. I like to engender that anticipation, and hope my constructions will surprise or even startle the viewer. I am fascinated by the process of transformation. All things of earth - animal, vegetable and mineral - are mutable. It is in their nature to constantly change form. There may be an “end” process - decay, decomposition, death - but something remains. A body becomes bones, flowers become seed and stalk, rock grinds to sand. To me there is comparable beauty in each altered state. Here in the Adirondacks, the harshness of the weather scours the landscape. Each winter the sleet, snow and powerful winds beat down the flora and fauna. The end of winter is a time of resurrection. New forms emerge from the fallen trees and broken branches. Stones rise and root masses push through icy soil. Often the modified forms have acquired (or revealed) anthropomorphic characteristics; these are qualities I exploit in my constructions. An old dump site on my property holds a hundred years’ worth of trash, gradually buried by rotting leaves. Each spring the thawing ground spews bits and pieces to the surface. I love the patina of these objects, created first by handling and use, then by time. Nature re-uses glass, filling bottles with moss and weeds. Wood and steel tool parts, riddled with fissures, edges softened by decay, are transfigured into small sculptures. Tin and copper, chain and wire rust to mellow shades of orange, brown and slatey blue. Sometimes I need to dig in the loamy soil to release the captive objects. Those that catch my eye get a casual brushing on their way to the studio. There, bins, baskets and tabletops spill over with treasure (or junk, depending on your perspective), both manmade and natural. Shelves are filled with animal ribs and skulls, plant pods. seeds and branches, all manner of unidentifiable fragments of wood, metal and leather. Boxes, dozens of boxes, are piled in every corner and under every table. The parts I select for a box may seem, initially, disparate and without connection. But I have a sense that particular bits and pieces were meant to reassemble into a specific new “whole”. As I join one form to another, I know when I have found the place they were meant to be. The longer I live and work as an artist in the Adirondacks, the more my work changes. As I am assimilated into the wilderness, so too is the art - it get “wilder” and more naturalistic. And certainly darker. The woods, after all, are both beautiful and just a little scary. Diane Golden March, 2012

Main-addtags-924c433b10d7fa1e798f459a6c516fec add to mylistEmail email this artistWarn16_1-acea3e816f6ab6f7c1ff67db4fe34a36 report abuseMain-help-83f1644dca34c1af4fed1d49d175d955 contact us for help

Copyright © 2006-2012 by ArtSlant, Inc. All images and content remain the © of their rightful owners.