Author: bert leveille

My concept for my art bridge for the Bridge*s exhibit began when I started my crossover series debuted at TAC – The Art Center, Highland Park.  
In the first crossover painting – a 22×10 foot acrylic painting with LED lighting – I contemplated whether my mindful beings were crossing over a wall, a prison, an impossible situation, a personal haunting, a mind that won’t give them rest…? Are they making it, surviving, succeeding, rejoicing…? My life experience is filtered through me — surrounds me as I paint. I cannot escape the realities of children being separated from their parents, human beings treated lesser because they are unfamiliar (Are we not the same?). Are they crossing over? Are we crossing over? Is our society crossing over?

Preparing for Bridge*s, I felt compelled to go literal and build a bridge (not a wall).

The recent massacre in El Paso once again reminds me that we are all the same. The Bridge*s exhibit opens Friday, August 9th at the Old Courthouse Arts Center in Woodstock, Illinois, while families and communities in Texas and Ohio are reeling with grief. This exhibit includes art that addresses humanity. I will be thinking of those who have just suffered this horrific loss.

On a personal note, too many good friends have “crossed over”. Whether bridging life and life beyond, a change in careers, a life challenge or situation, or crossing over to a new city, state or country; or just to the other side … whether a literal or metaphoric bridge … it may take courage, conviction and a leap of faith; or it may simply offer a new perspective.

Here is how my art bridge started
– a simple bridge symbolizing a complicated passage.layers of silver paintsimple piers to support the bridgeadding colorlaying the foundation and assembling the bridge (thank you, Patrick)ready for installation art 

Please join myself and the other Bridge*s artists Friday night.
Cross over my art bridge!
For more info about the exhibition visit:
http://e-artgroup.com/exhibits_Bridges.htmlThank you, Vicki Senn for this photo and the top photo.
Vicki and I (E* artists) curated this exhibit.
It is the second exhibition of E*, formerly E-artgroup.

I marvel at the things I can do now that I took for granted before my health issues; and I am starting to take for granted again. Simple things – like standing while dressing, and going up and down stairs effortlessly, and laying on my right side. I will probably never be able to do the lifting I used to do, and will always need more assistance installing an exhibition than I used to . . .

Crawling on the floor to paint is difficult  — so when I can, I adapt . . .

I so love the movements of dancer, Ellyanna Hope Anderson — movements that I cannot emulate but can appreciate, that I can paint — movements I can feel in my soul, and attempt in the swimming pool ! — in my mind anyway . . .

Ellyanna’s passion for movement (and the perfection of it) has made me more aware of how important movement is in my art. It has always been there, and I suspect will continue to play a dominant role in my work and the implementation of my artistic visions . . .

The boot is gone — yay!
Not trusting the weather for travel, I decided to send my art and my lights to Wabi Sabi gallery in Twin Falls, Idaho for Art & Soul! But, I had hoped to drive there at some point!

I hoped to drive to Wabi Sabi in Twin Falls, Idaho for the gallery’s event this Saturday, BUT the weather decided to ice and snow – we needed 3 days to drive and the weather did not cooperate. We travelled to Salt Lake City years back and on April 28 we were the last car allowed to proceed up the mountain road before the officer closed the gate. We fortunately were able to get off the road and find a motel. It was quite an adventure, and not one we really wanted to repeat. So, now i guess I will spend extra time rehabbing my back and now my foot. Gotta look on the bright side. And, maybe I’ll get to my 10 x 12 foot. But, I am missing the show.

My deer are happy I am still here — well… maybe.

So, as I  am sharing my art adventure with you, here is what happened. I’m thinking the sciatica is healing, and I’m starting to paint on my large painting … and, another mishap … I tripped over my laptop chord, smashed my nose into my face, crumpled my neck and body like an accordion, twisted my ankle and broke my foot. Ouch.

So my painting is again delayed. I did however test the lighting for these 4 — 8ft x 4ft paintings that are going to be at Wabi Sabi gallery in Twin Falls for “Art & Soul. I managed to pack and ship them. They are on their way. YAY!

So, being an artist is more than playing with paint – it includes dealing with adversities and life, handling the details, doing not so fun grunt work — but getting it done, so we can share it with you and/or those that want to see/experience it.

I was so grateful when I got this boot so I could put weight on my foot and walk — NOW, I want it gone! Ahh, the luckier we are the more we want. Happy walking, everyone!

In lieu of doing a full-size installation at Art-Prize at the Harris Building (we will do one this year), I created a miniature replica. I asked the viewer to imagine that I created an installation in a much smaller universe than ours — perhaps one that would fit on the head of a pin. Below are photos of the finished miniature gallery in my studio and photos of my process.

These paintings are the result of a terrorizing experience a few years ago. Driving on country roads, I drove into a winter flash flood. I could not see. It was dark. There was no moon. There were no lights. I could NOT see! Ice and water slammed my windshield. That was at minimum a quarter mile that did not seem like I would ever reach the end of. If I let up on the accelerator, the car began to stall. Unknowingly, I had come upon a flooded creek. I had driven the same road a couple of hours earlier while the sun was shining, and it was clear. For months before this experience, I had been having dreams of driving and not being able to see! I have had only one of these dreams since.

This was an ordinary trip, taking my Mom to the doctor. I knew the road well. Perhaps this trip and the dreams were symbolic and foreshadows of the time to come — my Mom’s death, the fear, the helplessness, but gradually some light.

I am constantly changing and experimenting with video, animation, materials and lighting. I’ve had a wide range of reactions from loving it to not getting it. It is so rewarding to touch someone’s life. I was so appreciative when a young man with dollar in hand wanted to “tip me” for all of this.  I graciously showed him where my donation jar was, and told him he was going to help me do a large installation in Michigan. When people are moved… that is my reward.