David Nakabayashi and Jenni Lukasiewicz
David Nakabayashi and Jenni Lukasiewicz, despite agreeing
never to collaborate again, build a replica of an air strike from a variety of materials, some recycled and some new, both familiar and unfamiliar. Working together has revealed that David, normally brash and frenetic,
can be meticulously obsessive and that Jenni, normally deliberate and detailed, can choose to experiment and introduce an element of complete uncertainty. The resulting artwork has many layers of meaning including
over-consumption, imperialism, an acceptance of permanent warfare, the insanity of love, and the boundaries, both personal and political, that we choose to respect or destroy. While some tears were shed in the process,
the resulting "Air Strike" not only reveals the couple's weaknesses but also their strengths and continued commitment to one another.
January 10, 2016 Ridgewood, NY
I keep thinking that I will see the world end, see it burn up and then watch the water come and cover all of our moments. But the
world ends everyday and starts again tomorrow. So I keep looking at these paintings on my wall and how they came to me through my eyes and my hands, through my tears, through these paltry years and all the habits I've
succumbed to and shed. Soon they will return to earth, but not before me.
June 11, 2015 Ridgewood, NY
David Nakabayashi and Jenni Lukasiewicz
David Nakabayashi and Jenni Lukasiewicz collaborate to make repurposed sculpture, mixed media drawings, paintings, photography and installation which
are impressions of a real forest they left behind. All of this artwork is made from mostly recycled, scavenged or salvaged materials from the streets of New York, from seven acres of wooded hillside in New Mexico and
the lives that were led there by strangers, and from the artists' participation in a consumptive modern society. Jenni works with light and layered transparent materials and is meticulous and very discerning. David is
brash and prolific and pursues his art as an obsession. The resulting collaboration, while not without friction, expresses a deeper reconciliation with the artists' sense of displacement, their duty as citizens of the
Earth, as well as with each other.
August 13, 2015 Ridgewood, NY
Seeking Space - Bushwick Open Studios 2015
Sometimes I paint prayers. I want to be religious, to surrender to happiness, but I don't believe in God, or happiness. I do believe in haplessness, and also
April 29, 2015 Ridgewood, NY
Pop Up Gallery - Bushwick Open Studios 2014
After emigrating from the forest of southern New Mexico to New York City, I spent the winter into spring painting New York, the Pacific Ocean, Hawaiian mythology, disembodied hands, petrified wood, cattle wandering
rooftops, antiques and tree branches outside my window. I could say that these paintings were created during a major transition, except that I'm always in transition, and despite my tendency to try to carry the past
into the future, only the present matters. Painting is always about the moment you are living in.
Ridgewood, Queens, NY May 2014
Albert's Unburnt Logs
A child of the Great Depression, my Step-Dad Albert Ogle (1920 - 2009) refused to burn the firewood he had
accumulated over the 17 years I knew him because, as he stated, "we might need the wood someday." He also saved everything new, used and broken in the many closets and storerooms about his mountainside property. In
honor of him I have taken several of his saved logs and adorned them with his hoarded materials including spark plugs, lightbulbs, tiles, bottle caps, nails, washers, fabric, tin and work gloves. The result is a little
forest of memories. This piece could only have been created by me in this one time and place and through its creation I have learned more about Albert than he ever revealed to me during his life. Also in honor of Albert
I am burning his remaining firewood during the cold winter months here in the Sacramento Mts.
High Rolls, NM February 2013
pre·sen·ti·ment - noun :
a feeling that something will or is about to happen.
I move through time and space as a visitor. I linger. I observe. I
never stay. I stumble upon situations and strangers: innocent or not so innocent, perhaps dangerous, mostly benign, and from all walks of life. Each unique encounter starts with a mysterious feeling that something is
about to happen. The impact of such interactions on my life can be metaphysical, but is mostly insignificant. Yet, I still suspect that every group of people I encounter is on the verge of insurrection and I am addicted
to that feeling. I want even the smallest gesture, glance or quiet observation to contain a truth that changes history. The moment I stop moving life resumes its state of predictable melancholy. And so I wait until I
can escape once again into uncertainty.
High Rolls, NM - June 2012
Family Reunion and Memento
In 2009 I began to use up my family photos in a series of collage pieces called "Family Reunion". I decided that rather than keep the photographic documentation of my childhood, and my family heritage,
in a box I would use it up, like paint. These works illustrate a strange universal narrative that has little to do with me anymore. That same year my mother's husband Albert died. He spent his entire life in New Mexico
except for four years in the Army during WWII. He also saved everything. As I have spent the last year sorting through his collection I've discovered some inspiring materials from old documents, heirlooms and
photographs to fishing tackle, hats, used wallets and broken watches. I've begun to reinterpret this material through my artwork, including works on paper and found wood, sculpture and installation, and in the process
give new life to this otherwise meaningless history. I've blurred the past even further by including my own mementos with his. This continuing project is called "Memento". I have come to know Albert, a very
quiet man, more than I ever did while he was alive and for that I am grateful.
High Rolls, NM - March 2012
I've been wandering around this land since I was a child and have been trying to paint it since I was 12. I rebelled against my normal life for decades by escaping to the desert until I
finally escaped by giving up my normal life. So in return the land has filtered into all my endeavors. All my expressions of human connection and disconnection, of culture and of art cannot exist without the land. And
on the day that I die I will regret not having been able to capture it.
High Rolls, NM - April 2011
In January 2009 I was driving through Ohio during an ice storm when an out-of-control car came spinning into my lane from the other side of the freeway. A moment later I was standing alone next to my
totaled car on a snow-covered embankment. A short while later I sat in a truck-stop restaurant looking out the window, the whole country seeming to pass me by. I sat reflecting on where I have been and the people I have
met and realized that all my experiences had led me to that moment standing alone in the snow.
Santa Fe, NM - February 2010
A story has the ability to spark a personal emotional connection in a reader or listener. That connection can take the form of an image, a revelation or a memory that is not
contained in the story but illuminated by it. While my recent paintings reflect my life and travels, my personal narrative is irrelevant to the viewer and the artwork can stand alone, undefined. It is in that undefined,
mysterious space that my paintings serve to manifest emotional connections to narratives provided by the viewer.
Santa Fe, NM - February 2010
Here & There: Seeing New Ground
I make art like I think a nomad would. I move through space looking at everything. I talk to people and get
them to reveal their secrets; I gather things and take them to a working place. I think about it all for long days until all the different images and stories and feelings begin to overlap. I float in this gathering
state of mind until the time is right and then the paintings all come out in a frenzy. When it is over I leave again. This practice is a reflection of my life that I have lived as if I was always on my way to somewhere
else. I don't know where home is anymore.
Santa Fe, NM - May 4, 2009
Learning To Catch Knives
My artwork is filled with metaphors for the personal challenges encountered during a time of great change including the expectations of family, the pain of lost love, the
struggle of new love and the search for cultural identity. My images are both accessible and cryptic, highly personal yet connected to the world around me. While the viewer is inclined to decipher these images, one need
not understand the meaning of the icons and the situations in which they appear to appreciate their beauty and the skill with which they have been rendered.
Santa Fe, NM - July 1, 2007
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