While Artist-in-Residence Pamela M. Anderson was enjoying a well-deserved vacation in Colorado to see the Women of Abstract Expressionism exhibit at the Denver Art Museum last week, she left the studio in good hands: Stephanie Barenz, the Hotel’s 5th Artist-in-Residence in 2013-14. Stephanie exhibited some of her own paintings over the weekend, just in time for Doors Open Milwaukee. I ran into Stephanie on Friday, and she was gracious enough to offer a tour of her artistic mind, as well as some intriguing words about her own learning experiences, especially at The Pfister during her residency, but also in her travels in Milwaukee, New York City, and Hang Zhou.
First, she reminisced:
The residency was a lot about storytelling because I was collaborating with Molly Snyder [the Narrator that year] to create a book. So all my paintings that year–there were 30 just for the book–were bursting with activity, more colorful and illustrative than normal. Molly would come in to talk about the painting process and she would write the story. There was one 6′ x 8′ painting of a cart pulled by a motorcycle that was filled with my experiences–that was my self-portrait. Our book is called “The Carriers.” You can actually read it on my website. All in all, it was a magical year.
As we talked, I could look out the studio doors to see her fancifully eclectic painting featured in the hallway, a tall tribute to the porters’ luggage carts, “bursting with activity,” as Stephanie would say, and memories of her experiences at the Hotel. Her painting-in-progress (see above) is indeed an obviously different vision, as is much of her personal work, many of which are palimpsests of pencil, pen, and paint, with layers peeking at us as through a mist or glass or haze of memory. I noticed how silhouetted figures–both dark and light–were often superimposed upon each other or how bodies allowed us glimpses of architecture that mysteriously shone through them (or was it that the bodies were reflecting the architecture as if they were made of mirrors?).
Stephanie’s time at The Pfister was also magical because it revealed a whole new world to her: the world of a professional artist.
It was also such an education for me because it was where I learned how to become a professional artist. When I was in school, the focus wasn’t on business, although there’s probably more of a focus now. So when I got out, I didn’t know how to approach patrons, for instance, or how to exhibit my work, or talk to visitors.
I taught in Hang Zhou, China, for a year (that’s where I met my husband). I had to get used to a very collective mindset and used to interacting in public spaces much more than I was used to. Here, I get in my car and go to my little studio, but there the question was always “How are my actions affecting everyone else?” My students would go to school, then go home to take care of their family. Some would even be in love with someone from another province, but wouldn’t pursue it because–they valued taking care of their family more. We don’t do that as much here. But they ask “How are we operating together?” From this experience I realized how important it is to have friendships, to have people to be accountable to. I mean, as an artist–and I’m sure you understand this, too–you can be alone a lot. I started the Pfister residency right when I got back from China, so that was perfect timing. I had to learn how to be public with my process. People would ask lots of questions about my art–they had so many questions, and so many personal stories. The residency at The Pfister was really an “education by fire.” I mean, I probably failed a lot, but I also learned a lot.
As individuals, organizations, and publications like Doors Open Milwaukee, Dear MKE, Urban Spelunking, Humans of Milwaukee, Urban Milwaukee, and the upcoming ZIP MKE all continue the difficult task of bridging the gaps between neighborhoods and zip codes, between different sides of the river or freeway, Stephanie’s artistic philosophy could never be more timely (well, in fact, it’s timeless):
My art is about navigating new places. When you go to a new place, it affects your perception of home. I learned from visiting other cities and countries that everyday moments are important, so my art is about making the ordinary extraordinary, about elevating the commonplace.
As you navigate a place, you’re bringing the past, present, and future with you. You’re bringing all your memories, you’re very present in the moment, and you’re also using your imagination to go into the unknown. I like to think of it as the layering of time. Even if you’re in a familiar space, it’s good to become unfamiliar with it, to try to engage with your surroundings in a new way. It reminds me of the Situationists, who declared that they would no longer navigate their city according to the prescribed grids. So they would take a map of Paris and make these games: they’d put a coffee cup down on a map and walk the perimeter that the cup made; sometimes they’d make shadow puppets on a map and investigate the shaded area; they’d take color walks and sensory walks, too, being aware of these things as they walked.
I am inspired now to try out a coffee cup or shadow puppet walk on one of these beautiful days as we transition from summer to fall. Who wants to join me? I want to see more of my city. I want to see the extraordinary in every ordinary corridor or alley, through every window pane or fence. And I want to meditate, with a new perspective, on the past, present, and future that I bring to each new (and old) space I am in.
I’m looking forward to the completion of the renovation of the Lobby Lounge so I can bring this new-found thinking to my experiences in the old/new space–and continue to share with you, my readers, the past, present, and future of the Humans of The Pfister.