New A/V Curio Series

            In the fall of 2018, after visiting an art gallery and observing the amount of time people would spend in front of a piece of art, I became curious about why some people would pass by a piece, conveyor-belt style, while others would stand focused, patient, arms behind their back, and still others who would observe from the middle of the space and take everything in all at once. I wondered if any research had been done on the average length of time a person spends looking at art in a gallery.     

            According to New York Times writer Stephanie Rosenbloom, “the average visitor spends 15 to 30 seconds in front of a work of art….” I found another report that put the time at an average of twenty-two seconds.

            While being interested in the length of time we engage art, I also started thinking about how to expand ideas of collage into sound. Paper and glue started to frustrate me because my process was often tedious and kept me from immediate expression. After weeks of digging around online and investigating sound experiments and noise machines, I walked into a Portland fixture for electronic music producers called Control Voltage in the Mississippi district.

            Looking back on it makes me feel like a Johnny Daydreamer. I stood in front of two patient employees who listened to what I was awkwardly trying to articulate as if no one else had thought of collage and sound. They not only humored me, they understood what I was trying to do and directed me to the samplers. I walked out of the store that day with a Roland SP404A, a machine capable of sampling and playing back whatever sounds I put into it.

            While doing the deep dive on getting the 404 to do what I wanted, I also continued to nurture the curiosity about engagement with art and how sound could be implemented in that twenty-two second window of time. I had many ideas but I also got carried away with sampling and layering sounds and I acquired two more samplers to noodle around with.

            As of 2022, my initial interest in sound has expanded beyond experiments in sampling and into synths, drum machines, and guitar pedals. These gadgets combine to help me create in real time without obstructions like scissors, glue, or paper but I never stopped composing mixed-media pieces and recently found a way to combine the two.

            My new A/V Curio series is a fun way for me to continue to feed the original, but evolving interest in sight and sound and the tactile way we can engage with art. The series includes 999 completely original audio and visual compositions packaged in 333 miniature parcels. Each piece is a blend of handmade paper composition, photography, and embedded sound. One parcel contains three original numbered pieces. The A/V Curios ($13.00, shipping included) are available now in the store: http://jeremypeggdesigns.com/store/av-curio

13,500,000,000,000,000...

And that number is abbreviated. The actual number looks like this: 13,500,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.

Or 13 tredecillion if you don’t want to take the time to write out all those zeros. That number represents the amount of possible collages embedded in my new project. About a year and a half ago I started fiddling around with ways to get collage off the page and into a more tactile experience. After finding little wooden cubes at the dollar store I began applying paper to them and sanding their edges to soften their look and feel. As they started accumulating on my workbench, I began experimenting with ways to display them and I became more and more interested in the idea of randomized collage.

At first I toyed with the idea of mounting them permanently onto a surface, or building a sculpture. “But then you can’t see one of their sides,” someone said. I liked that though. I enjoyed the random nature of them and that I couldn’t control what was being seen. Or even that a favorite side of a cube me may end up being hidden forever. A collage out of my control and that may suffer loss appealed to my sense of humor but ultimately the idea of having a new piece of art any time I wanted interested me more.

I took the cubes to a small local framer in Portland called I’ve Been Framed. After passing the little blocks across the counter, I told them what I was trying to accomplish. We bounced ideas off of each other and I left the cubes with the staff. As with every project I’ve taken to them, they did their magic. Their hard work and attention to detail is obvious when you see the piece on the wall or take it down to open the back and rearrange the cubes.

Something else I like about the project is that it’s the first series I’ve done that really lends itself to taking commissions. The pieces can be customized by frame color, color palette, and size. But the cubes themselves can also accommodate materials that may otherwise remain unseen. Do you have piles of your child’s old drawings or school work sitting in a box in your garage? Want to get them out of hiding and hanging on your wall? Items can be photocopied if you don’t want the originals destroyed. Have other items that you want to incorporate? I’m happy to work with you.

Have Mercy! New Soft Goods Brand

Way back in 2019 I completed work on the latest iteration of my Correspondence collage series. One of the collages featured the word “MERCY.” in the composition. The text was pulled from an article published in an ‘80s LIFE magazine about a man stranded in the Alaskan wilderness. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, the man died before rescuers could find him but he kept a journal detailing his harrowing fight for survival. That single word was pulled from the context of the man’s journal and his plea to God for mercy.

Other than being impressed by glimpses of the man’s story, I didn’t think much of it at the time. As is so often the case, I am primarily guided by how compositional elements come together visually in my work and I liked the way the text looked and how its juxtaposition with the other design elements lent itself to lots of free association.

That piece garnered more attention than some of the others in the series and I found myself thinking more and more about the word mercy. I had the visual element of it stuck in my mind and, as an Interdiscipliniarian double majoring in English Lit and History I was growing increasingly interested in its etymology.

The first definition listed in the Oxford English Dictionary defines mercy as, “compassion or forgiveness shown towards someone whom it is within one’s power to punish or harm.” Its roots are in 12th century latin and evolved from ideas about thanks, grace, reward, punishment, pity, favor, and wares, or merchandise. I filed away the meaning and its historical roots in my mind while still contemplating the visual idea of the word removed from its original context.

I was also interested in removing it from another context. Though I grew up with evangelical attachments to the word mercy, I wondered what it would be like to contemplate mercy outside of that culture. How do people outside of a religious upbringing think about mercy? How may they articulate what mercy means? Furthermore, how are “wares” associated with experiencing mercy?

Many of the projects I begin are started with notions. Or to put it another way, I begin visually and materially exploring and obsessing over ideas before I know what their significance is. I started writing the word mercy in my journals and I photocopied the original piece I used in the Correspondence collage. Every morning for several weeks I was cutting out the word mercy from the photocopies. I also started incorporating the pieces into new works.

I was having brief tactile experiences with the word while also experiencing the need for it in my personal life. The need was twofold. I needed mercy from others and I knew I needed to extend it to people that I didn’t want to.

Simultaneously my collage work was beginning to leave the world of flat surfaces. I started making small wooden collage cubes that could be rolled like dice so that each time they landed, a new collage was visible. I also messed around with using them in sculpture. I was really enjoying the tactile experience of glueing and sanding and holding the dice. Everyone who encountered them had a visceral reaction to how they looked and felt. More and more I wanted to explore objects as canvases and it was during this time that the convergence of my contemplation of mercy and living in the moment of a tactile experience merged.

I began making rough concept sketches in my journals for a mercy “brand”. I had a lot of ideas but I knew that I needed to collaborate with other artists that had tools I didn’t have for making the concepts reality. As someone who primarily works alone, beginning to collaborate with other artists was something I wasn’t sure was going to work. But thankfully I found the right people.

I took two approaches. With one artist I went into great detail on the aesthetic I was after and how it related to my study of the word mercy. With the other artist I purposely didn't tell him anything other than the name of the new brand. I didn’t show him any other work or give him any clues. I just affirmed his style, his work, his sensibilities, and asked him to do his “thing” with the brand name. The results from both artists and working with them was deeply rewarding and full of surprises.

Mercy Tactiles Co. is in the production stages of printing and stitching soft goods that reflect my interest in the word mercy, in how we experience mercy on a tactile level, and how we should be mindful of the moment we are in. While the designs seek to invite contemplation of life, death, grace, and agency there is no single articulated meaning behind the works. Like most of my work, I am interested in exploration and seeing how other people interact with the artifacts of design. Mercy Tactiles Co. is a new way for me to do that.

New Series! Narrative Collage Boxes

When I was a kid I was fortunate enough to live a few minutes away from one set of grandparents. I used to love going over to my Mamaw and Papaw’s house. Papaw would let me use his typewriter and wood carving tools. Mamaw cut our hair and always had cookies in a special tin box. But there was also another box that I almost always looked in. On a book shelf at the end of the great room, there was an ornately carved wooden box. I didn’t know this at the time but the box was hand carved and constructed by Papaw. Inside, it was lined with plush blue valour and contained various curious objects that always captivated me. I distinctly remember a little sailor man with arms and legs and torso connected by chains. He was dressed in blue with a black bandana and a white sailor’s hat. If you picked him up, his entire body would sway and dangle with your movements.

I was just a child when I would stand there and look through the contents of that box, but the moments, the impressions made by it are still very present to me. My newest collage series is based off of the wonder I found there and the tactile experience of being held in a moment.

Please visit the store for more images and purchase info: http://www.jeremypeggdesigns.com/store

New! Mini Film Stills Released

In 2006 I began a collage series based off of the idea of Hollywood film stills. Film stills, or production stills, were images captured on the set of a film, either by staging them for publicity, or by taking the pictures while the cast and crew were working. The original series I developed was born from my frustration as a photographer. I wanted to photograph cinematic scenes but didn’t like having to coordinate models and sets because of the time it took. Working with images I cut out from old books and magazines made it easier for me to scratch the creative itch in real-time. I began creating fictional movie names and started matching collages to these made-up films. Sometimes I would even write parts of dialogue or story lines for my own entertainment.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve further developed this idea, but scaled down the size to see what I could do with a smaller canvas. The new Mini Film Stills are 2.5 x 7 inches and are meant to mimic the old CinemaScope aspect ratio. The new, hand made, one-of-a-kind collages are available for purchase in the store:

http://www.jeremypeggphoto.com/store

Below is a scan of one of the larger stills from the original series and an interview with the filmmaker.

Still #6 From Take Me Anywhere

INTERVIEW WITH MARTIN NOVACK

Though respected by his peers and the type of mythical director that every actor dreams of working with, filmmaker Martin Novack has never been a household name. I recently sat down with him on the roof of his Minneapolis apartment to discuss his life in cinema and the release of his new film Autograph.

Paul Horton: You've made four films in as many decades. When you started your career did you see yourself making more or less films?

Martin Novack: I never thought so far ahead as to hope I would be prodigious. When I completed work on my first film (Take Me Anywhere) I was shocked to see it in a theater. I felt I was getting away with something.

PH: It was well received.

MN: By the critics, yes.

PH: Were you disappointed that the public didn't seem to understand it or were you happy that the critics loved it?

MN: Both yes. I suppose I wanted the public to receive it but I knew the story may be difficult for some to digest. But for me it was the type of film that had to be made at that time. Even if only for myself.

PH: Is it true that you are most fond of Take Me Anywhere?

MN: Certainly, I have feelings for that film that I think may be impossible for me to have towards the other three pictures. Pure nostalgia, I’m sure. That picture is over thirty years old and I seem far enough removed from the thing, the artifact, that I can watch it and be in wonder at myself. In that sense, I am fond of it. I think I'm fond of the relationships I made on that film as well.

PH: It's a well-known fact that you hired the Bleeker twins from that film to be on your production staff. What motivated your decision to do that?

MN: After wrapping production on Take Me Anywhere, I found myself missing them. They were very dynamic you know. At the risk of sounding insensitive they really were a force of nature. Their personalities were absolutely addicting.

PH: Some have said that you hired them out of guilt for possibly exploiting their situation.

MN: I think now I could admit that that is partly true. But I also think I really loved them and wanted them around. It was not uncommon for me to have friends on my production staff.

PH: Do you think having the Bleeker sisters play such a prominent role in that film helped to take away the social stigma of conjoined twins?

MN: I have no idea if it helped or not. I knew that was one of the elements of the film that the public could have a difficult time with.

PH: You featured them on the promotional posters.

MN: I insisted on it actually. I wanted people to know right away what sort of thing they were getting themselves into. I also think in my young mind I was being anti-establishment or something. There were definitely thoughts of Tod Browning there.

PH: And Take Me Anywhere was nothing even close to Freaks. There were so many great scenes in Take Me Anywhere that I find myself getting angry that people only remember or talk about the scene with the sisters.

MN: Their scenes are memorable. I like to hope that it's their very real personalities that they so vulnerably revealed on the screen, but I suppose that is some kind of commentary on social awkwardness that that is still talked about.

PH: Your next film, Seven Ways to Prosper, was a total departure from Take Me Anywhere. Why was there nearly ten years between them and do you feel like that length of time contributed to the public falling in love with it?

MN: In that they forgot or didn't care that I made Take Me Anywhere? And that the critics seemed to forget that they liked me before? It wasn't purposeful if that's what you are getting at. The distance in time between those two pictures came out of necessity.

PH: You lost your father in that time.

MN: Yes. It was a profound experience. On more than one level. About four years after Take Me Anywhere my father drowned while he and I were fishing on the Pacific Coast. The circumstances around his death have been well documented, but needless to say, finding him already gone and holding him in my lap changed me completely. Out-of-my-control changed me. There are so many little details that are still very tangible even now.

PH: Obviously, the drowned man in Seven Ways to Prosper was a direct and blatant homage to that.

MN: It's not as obvious as you may think. I can see that now when I watch it but it's more in the little things about the scene than the fact that there is a drowned man on the beach in that movie. The story called for that.

PH: What little things in that scene make you realize it?

MN: Little nuances. The awkward heaviness of a lifeless man. The shot of Carl wringing out that heavy wool sweater on the man. The wet hair beginning to dry and move on his head. That brilliant shot of the sun by George (George Girardeau, Novack's director of photography on all his films). The sun still shining and almost happy in the midst of such a tragic moment.

PH: You said it was profound on more than one level?

MN: Losing my father. Losing such a dominant force in my life and then finding out that he left me this substantial inheritance at a time when I really didn't think film making was going to work for me.

PH: In what sense?

MN: I was broke. My first wife and I had our first child. I was writing copy at a local television station and working as an overnight clerk at the hospital. Film making became something I did in my notebook during coffee breaks. My father's death and subsequent inheritance allowed me to devote myself to writing and eventually the completion of Seven Ways to Prosper. I am very grateful to him for that. He gave me a chance that most people, early in their career, never get. I'm not sure I would have made another film without his help.

PH: Do you find it odd that part of your mystique is that you have only completed one film every ten years or so?

MN: That has more to do with the trajectory of my career and the stories I chose to tell than any calculation on my part.

PH: Trajectory?

MN: Getting a break on my first film. Struggling along after no mainstream success. My father dying. Getting back in the habit of writing. Filming and producing Seven Ways to Prosper and then taking on Cervantes. Don Quixote was an absolute nightmare. A legitimate ten-year project. That made me want to quit making pictures forever.

PH: A lot has been written about that. What made you go from Seven Ways to Prosper to Don Quixote?

MN: People saying it couldn't be done.

PH: I read somewhere that you predicted someone would end up dying if you attempted to make that film.

MN: I did. And as everyone now knows, they did.

PH: Why would you predict such a thing?

MN: I don't think I literally thought someone would die. Maybe I did. I said it in jest knowing that to try and tell that story was said to be impossible. At the time I was reading a lot of Jorge Louis Borges' writings on Cervantes and labyrinths and the almost Biblical power of Cervantes. There was something sublime and terrible about the audacity of taking him on.

PH: You have rarely admitted to being influenced by other filmmakers. Why have you been so stubborn on that point when it seems to be the fashion to tell people who you are ripping off?

MN: I am very selfish and paranoid when it comes to the creative process. I don't want to see what other people are doing. I think to some degree you must protect your own voice. I think before you find your voice, you do well to mimic others. They help you along until you can stand on your own. The one filmmaker that I must pay my respects to is Chaplin. He devastates me.

PH: How so?

MN: You have to know all the right strings to pull when it comes to storytelling. And here was a man that did that without the use of words. I would say he's among the masters. Eisenstein was brilliant. Kurosawa was brilliant. But there is something so heartbreaking and pure and funny about Chaplin's best films that they serve as the model, collectively, of great story telling. Look in Chaplin's eyes in The Kid when they rip Jackie Coogan out of his arms. There is more truth in that scene than nearly every film that came after it. Watch the globe scene from The Great Dictator and tell me it doesn't fill you with joy and sadness at the same time.

PH: Are you happy with the response so far to your last film, Autograph?

MN: I think at this point in my career I am indifferent to the response. I used to say that but not truly mean it. But I think now I've realized I have great freedom to make these pictures and so far the reaction by critics or the public has had no real influence on my life. I mean in any meaningful way. Which is not to say that I am ungrateful. It is pleasing to know that there are people that have enjoyed or found meaning in my work.

PH: Are you currently working on any new projects?

MN: I'm kicking some ideas around yeah.

PH: Care to share?

MN: I'm not the telling type.