Category Archives: inspiration

Move Your Hands

June 7, 2012 by Chris | 1 Comment

One the road

Kyle and I are on the road – heading to one of our favorite shows in one of our favorite neighborhoods, the Old Town Art Fair in Chicago. We are excited to have a full extra day in Chicago to see some galleries and spend some non-work time with our friends (and gracious hosts) Gregory and Clark.

So while my face is planted in the windshield of our van, I thought I would share a piece from our great friend Lynn Whipple. I have a print of it above my desk and I LOVE IT! If you endeavor to make anything, from cupcakes, to artwork, to the next great american novel, this is the guide for you. You should buy one here!

 

The Arc of Making Something – Lynn Whipple

 

The Arc of Making Something by Lynn Whipple

 

From Lynn-

Heres how it goes:

Step 1 MOVE YOUR HANDS!!

Step 2 Happy moving hands will let your instincts take over- follow them

Step 3 WHOOPS! Now, you might have a big ol’ mess- no worries- that is perfectly normal, perfectly healthy

Step 4 Take a break, relax, chill, your brain will continue to solve the problem

Step 5 Return to your work with enthusiasm and feeling refreshed! Keep going

Step 5.5 Positive Feedback

Step 6 Go for the big finish, edit, be clear about your bigger idea and what you want to communicate

Step 7 REPEAT!!

Step 8 This is super important. Keep the cycle going and going…….

MR. DEADLINE!! He is kind of bossy, but he’s a poophead that keeps you in line and causes a FINISH, which is very important! Now you can relax and start again….and again…..and again!!

 

What do you want to get your hands moving on? join the conversation

If you find yourself flagging

May 31, 2012 by Chris | 4 Comments

Smart Phone

Six weeks ago, my friend Christina and I started following a fitness program. After not running since my soccer days (and only then either chasing or being chased), we started training for the 5k ColorRun. We’re following the very sensible Couch to 5K running program and dutifully following the verbal instructions given us by Get Running – an application on our phones. As we work our way through the training intervals, a very pleasant British female voice tells us when to start and stop running, and periodically gives us words of encouragement. Her accent adds a sense of sophistication as we sweat our way around the park.

We often talk back to our British foe friend, and I would be less than truthful if I said that everything said to her was nice. In fact, for weeks we have made fun of her when she has offered one particular suggestion, sarcastically thanking her for her “sage” advice. When we embark on our longest running interval she offers in her most pleasant and helpful way, “Remember to moderate your pace, and if you find yourself flagging, slow back a little to a pace you can maintain.”  This is followed a bit later by, “Don’t forget you can slow your pace a little, should you need to.” For weeks Christina and I have laughed about this, imagining a person running full speed about to fall out, but not knowing how to solve their problem. We picture the person with their hair blown back, cheeks flapping as if in a wind tunnel, painfully sprinting past without the common sense to slow down.

But, last night as I was making my way around the park, it occurred to me that what seems such obvious common sense in running is not applied to other areas of our life.

Indeed, what if in those times when our lives are running at a blistering tempo, a voice could remind us occasionally:

“Remember to moderate your pace, and if you find yourself flagging, slow back a little to a pace you can maintain.”

or

“Don’t forget you can slow your pace a little, should you need to.”

I hope my artwork can be that pleasant reminder – minus the british accent.

Mile Marker 261, 16x22

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Post Rock

May 24, 2012 by Chris | 1 Comment

Post Rock

One supposes something should be said
about these rows of earthen posts–
stones only in composition, stretching sandstone-yellow red

as far as wire strands will lead them, hosts
along some prairie pasture, or down deserted tractor lanes,
hunkered up against the snow and wind, lost

out in fields of swishing grain,
not rock or post to the untrained eye,
rather an innuendo of both; the plain

truth is how alone the sky
can set them off the best.
After a rain perhaps, their rich brown dye

infests the air around them as if to test
the theories of application. Whoever thought
that quarried limestone could bless

this flattened landscape, then wrought
stones from the earth and fought them–
each a squarish, irregular gem–into place . . .
his mark the winds have not erased.

Jeff Boyer

 

Jeff and I met last summer while I was doing a show here in Kansas City, and we had a great conversation about art, literature and the Kansas Flint Hills. Thank you Jeff for sharing your work with us – it is beautiful.

 

Have you seen post rocks? Are they used anywhere besides Kansas?

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What’s in a name?

April 11, 2012 by Chris | 0 Comments

Mile Marker XXX

There are as many stories as there are Mile Markers.

Titles are meant to act as a nudge, a hint, the first line of a story. Especially titles that seemingly are about a distinct place. They hint at specificity, maybe calling to mind an exact location, or perhaps simply triggering the memory of counting the miles on the long family vacations.  The significance of the name isn’t found in the numbers.  Your stories are the Mile Markers – they are not duplicated but they are everywhere.

 

Mile Marker 268, 16x22

 

This powerful story is from fellow artist, Sharon Spillar after reading the post “Booth Lessons”:

“So mile marker 268. This can only be Kansas. I know that place. Checking with my Mom to double check the mile marker number. With my husband I still am inconclusive. I traveled that road many, many times. Many people travel it and make complaints. I find that I am at home. I find peace. I find day dreams that I have missed. I grew up in Kansas and I truly cannot find any complaints.

What mile marker 268 for me is about the time I regain my peace. My Dad was an oil man and worked that part of Kansas. He was killed in a traffic accident at mile marker 263.5 ( I thought ) or 262.5 ( Verne thinks) but what ever it is. I know the spot because of the positioning of the bridge. But what I can say is that by this mile marker I have recollected myself, I have been brought back together by that vast depth of space, and I am home again.

Chris we have only met once but I am telling you this. You captured that area.

Thank you, Sharon Spillar”

 

What is your story?

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Booth Lessons

March 21, 2012 by Chris | 12 Comments

This weekend had its challenges: a 5:00 a.m. set-up following the hour lost to “springing-forward” plus another hour lost due to travel eastward, location challenges including a restaurant encroaching into our space, and temperatures and humidity that seriously challenged the wardrobe in the luggage I packed almost a month prior. Combine these temporal challenges with some unwittingly insulting comments, and sometimes I question why I have chosen to share my artwork in this way. Easily forgotten are the importance of accessibility and the democratization that the art fairs provide, the richness of watching people interact with my work, and all the lessons I can learn when I am paying attention.

 

Mile Marker 268, 16×22

 

Then with one brief encounter I remembered without a shadow of a doubt why I was standing in the street, tired and sweaty, allowing any passerby to interact and experience my artwork. It made up for each frown that exited my booth, the Wizard of Oz jokes that are endured, each “these are just photographs” that is heard. As I stood in the back corner of my booth trying to escape the blazing hot sun a elderly woman and her daughter stopped in front of my booth. I couldn’t hear all of the words said when the mother placed her chin close to the daughters shoulder to speak very low, with an ease between them that made it clear that this exchange had been happening in just this way for a long time. But I did hear her tell her daughter that my images felt like summertime, it was warm outside and probably the end of the day, that she thought maybe you could walk forever without encountering anyone or getting where you were going. And as the sweat rolled down my back and she described my artwork to her blind daughter, I knew why I was there.

 

Annie Griffiths

March 7, 2012 by Chris | 5 Comments

First artist statement - written in phonetic Texan

When I grow up!

As a 7 year old drawling Texan (who was learning phonetically) I knew I was going to be a photographer when I grew up.  In fact, I was going to go on “fantasstick trips so I could tack pitchers of fames tings”. And to an animal loving second grader that laid on the rec room floor looking at the exotic pictures in the famously yellow magazine, I knew this could mean only one thing – I would be Jane Goodall with a camera. I would work for National Geographic!

And despite my path changing a bit over the last thirty years (although surprising little for someone that couldn’t even write in cursive yet!), I had the incredible experience of hearing an amazing woman that my seven year-old self thought that I was going to become.


 

 

Annie Griffiths Belt

Annie Griffiths

Annie (sure, first names, why not?) was one of the first female photographers to work for National Geographic, and Griffiths has photographed in more than a hundred countries during her illustrious career. She has worked on dozens of magazine and book projects for the National Geographic Society, including stories on Lawrence of Arabia, Baja California, Galilee, Petra, Sydney, New Zealand, and Jerusalem. Her photographs are gorgeous, she is warm and dynamic, she is humble, she is a mother that has managed to balance a family and a wonderful career. She is even close friends with one of my favorite authors – Barbara Kingsolver.

And — She spoke to a SOLD OUT crowd at KC’s new Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts!!!!

I have been to see a lot of photographers speak, the Nelson-Atkins Museum hosts many, and I have been to many more at galleries, and have given a few presentations myself. I even sat for an hour trying desperately to understand three photographers as they talked about pinhole photographs – in Spanish. But this one was different!

I don’t think I can actually express what this meant to me. The little girl in me that grew up without knowing a single example of a woman photographer was awe struck to have this woman behind the lens celebrated in this grand hall. The adult in me got teary when a girl of about ten climbed across our legs to make her way to the microphone in the aisle to ask the first question of the Q&A.

She is truly an inspiration!

Be sure to check out her amazing images and her books!

And on behalf of the little girl that dreamed of being a phtographer – thank you Annie! Thank you Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts! Thank you National Geographic!

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Grandpa’s Hayrake by Jeff Boyer

February 29, 2012 by Chris | 0 Comments

Grandpa’s Hayrake

We cousins would climb onto a copious seat
worn slick by rain and sun,
the trousers of men both thick and spare.

We made a kind of game: Each setting of the giant tines
could chart your life. High for smooth,
hardship low, and tragic on the ground.

An overbuilt machine, no amount of hay
could need that bulk. The elms
would whisper secrets in the yard.

Lilacs by the road pushed against the drive
and hid approaching cars from view.
The tires hissed on tar as they sped by.

Only three or four, I knew enough to open wide the door
before ascending to the beds above
to let the breezy nighttime secrets through.

In the side lot under moon and stars
the rake would arc the metal tines like years
and shape the wind in rows.

Jeff Boyer (collector)

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Thanks Jeff for sharing your poem with us!

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Continue reading »

I have a confession

January 19, 2012 by Chris | 15 Comments

I have a confession

Besides being late with another blog post, and having my languages so jumbled I can barely speak or write in english or spanish, I am also having a hard time photographing in this city. I had the same difficulty last year and perhaps that is what has drawn me back.

Yesterday Kyle was feeling a bit under the weather, so I took a short walk to get him some pozole verde (the sure cure for whatever ails you). The best source of this miracle is a restaurant, Tapatio, approximately 400 yards from our apartment. I can’t adequately describe to you how much life there is between here and there. Imagine within the length of four football fields is the symphony hall, 3 basilicas, 1 major state university, 1 garden, 1 plaza, a dozen street vendors, 100’s of homes, dozens of restaurants, and smells of both open sewage and fresh tortillas. Now line all of these items up and paint them each a unique bright color and insert 100’s of people making sounds that you are trying desperately to understand. This is just a simple errand to pick up a cup of soup.

 

Look at all those textures!

This city is in every way the antithesis of my artwork. The close proximity of everything and everyone, the brilliant colors stacked one upon the other, the cacophony of sound and smell has my brain on overdrive. And while the research on sensory processing by my good friend Dr Winnie Dunn has allowed me to understand intellectually why my brain is short circuiting I still find it disconcerting that I can’t “see” this city.

So yesterday as I was leaving for my walk, I gave myself an exercise to focus my eyes. What I am unable to do in this bombardment of stimuli is to focus, so by giving myself strict boundaries, I could begin to see. Using only my Iphone camera (so I would not get caught in technicalities) I would photograph anything yellow that I encountered. Things became more clear (and Kyle got rather hungry)!

A few selections from my yellow walk:

dahlquist_yellow1.jpgdahlquist_yellow15.jpgdahlquist_yellow8.jpgdahlquist_yellow10.jpgdahlquist_yellow11.jpgdahlquist_yellow12.jpgdahlquist_yellow14.jpgdahlquist_yellow3.jpgdahlquist_yellow7.jpgdahlquist_yellow4.jpgdahlquist_yellow5.jpgdahlquist_yellow6.jpgdahlquist_yellow9.jpgdahlquist_yellow16.jpg

 

What tricks have you learned to help you “see”?

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All I need to know

January 8, 2012 by Chris | 1 Comment


Reflecting on the best of 2011 has been a great way to begin the new year.

Of course there are many more things that could be included in my lists of bests; celebrating the union of our friends Gregory and Clark, after 20 years of togetherness my sister-in-law and her boyfriend throwing caution to the wind to get married in the San Juan Islands, and many pieces of great art made, viewed, and experienced. But with my mind running a million miles a minute, I know the most productive thing for me to do is set some limits for myself. I find that a narrowed focus helps me distill my thoughts, and get to the heart of the matter. (i.e. four words about my work)

 

There is always room for growth

So after a week of many, many words describing the best events or experiences of 2011, I have realized that there is a commonality, a core idea that I will stay mindful of and that will guide me into 2012:

Growth and experiential learning, and spending time with people that are striving for the same.


 

 

 

 

 

Can you distill your best experiences of the year into one sentence or phrase?


 

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My studio soundtrack – Richard Shindell

November 30, 2011 by Chris | 2 Comments

The most seminal moment in my career as an artist was at a music concert. Continue reading »