Dennis Kaiser

My art response to the world is not a withdrawal, but it is a pulling back.  Not from life, but from images.  The saturation of them.  Images and things.  My paintings are still things. I haven't figured a way around that one yet.

I work a lot.  I don't paint a lot.  I work in the world for money, for survival, for family.  A worker in motion stays in motion.  I'd like to be a worker at rest.  I don't approach art making as work.  For me it's a way to be engaged, to be present. There's often a pleasurable, even playful aspect to it.  And if it weren't meditative I probably wouldn't do it at all.

I take care of other people's art for a living.  There are much more difficult jobs in the world than mine.  But it does have an adverse effect in terms of my own art making.  I 'm like the carpenter who lets his own house fall apart. The shadow side to the profession is a saturation effect.  I don't see art after a while.  I hardly see anything at all.

But I like to paint.  I like to lay the paint down on canvas.  No images, no stories, no biographies, no narratives (Lyndon you'd be hard pressed to find one).  Feeling the paint touch the canvas is not a thing.  It's a pleasure and a grounding experience. Afterwards I often find myself more aware of color and light in the world.

Part of the privilege of being an art handler at the museum is that I often get to see the whole painting, front, back and sides.  I love the backs of paintings.  Not too many people can see the backs. It's usually unprimed canvas or linen, often with paint seepage from the front.  Sometimes there's a waxy protective coat if it's been conserved. Sometimes writing, sometimes another painting.  I'm allowed to touch, and I do.

Another privilege to my work is walking through centuries of art when no one else is around.  The quiet and solitude can be very powerful. Some of my favorite places to be are empty galleries.  Empty galleries and empty streets, and empty beaches.  Even in this densely populated city, this happens to me more than one would think.

I also like to be around textiles. They're easy to be around.  Ironically enough, they are incredibly laborious to make.  Anni Albers, Martha Tuttle, the Navajo weavers, Turkish textiles, Peruvian textiles, Chinese silk paintings...these are artists and artifacts I go back to over and over again.  I'm never tired of these excursions.  That's why I pay attention.

Can art be transformative?  Absolutely.  Can it be revolutionary?  I don't think so.  The people that need to revolt aren't seeing it, and they have other things on their minds anyway.  Being around art humbles and softens me.  Making it does the same.  Maybe that's the revolution we need.  Put art on every screen for ten minutes at a time.  It doesn't have to be a masterpiece.  It could even be the back of a painting.  It would change the world.