Art of the relationship

Meet three artist couples who explain how their hearts affect their work

BY SUSANE K. ROTALO

What happens when an artist marries an artist? Does so much creativity under one roof cause spontaneous combustion? Or does mutual respect for each other’s creativity foster empathy and enhanced depth of feeling? Does individuality merge to form duality? How could constant creative influences not be an advantage to any artist?

Those who can live and breathe "creativity" daily are enviable enough, but those lucky ones wrapped in the security of love and support of each other are so rare they might be called an anomaly. So, we investigated what influences and inspires artist couples to see if they might teach all of us to share our perceptions, tolerance of others and cooperation in creating new forms of expression.

Mythology and romance

It’s easy to find creative couples on the Central Coast, artists like Robert (Rosey) and Barbara Rosenthal for example. There is nothing pretentious about either of them, but their pride in their work and each other inspires fascination.

Barbara, a UC Berkeley sociology graduate, and Rosey, a BFA from Pratt, agree that all visual stimulation, as well as academic subject matter (in fact, everything you learn), affects art. Since thinking and seeing are related and education makes you think more clearly, artists eventually need to analyze what they see and feel to create worthwhile art.

Rosey thinks those who draw and sculpt as a craft only , choosing not to try new things or experiment with ideas and expression, are skillful with their "craft" but fall into the same category as a technical writer when compared with a novelist.

Creative artists need to be involved in their art, something that is uniquely "yours." A unique idea should be a statement: "Rosey did this!" The work creates the self. Although he says he wants others to enjoy it, his primary reason for creating is an expression of his own ego. His latest piece has an original poem in it (even though Barbara says he is not a poet), but Rosey insists, "The work is all mine. People enjoy it because it is me, even if it’s not the best poetry."

On being a married artist couple, Rosey feels it tests and forges his own strength in what he believes. "We bounce things off each other. I agree with her critiques most of the time, but when I don’t, it makes me support what I have chosen to do, to be true to myself. It helps me be who I am."

Barbara admits she’s a little more pliable than her husband. "He has had a big affect on me. Although, over the years, I have learned to take the advice I want and ignore the rest. Rosey prefers representational images and traditional etching techniques. Still, when I am experimenting with something new, he encourages me–and tells me that I have all the fun."

On defining what makes an artist’s perception different from the perceptions of others, Rosey suggests, "An artist is someone who is not afraid to be laughed at. You need to be brave and be able to accept criticism."

Barbara adds, "In terms of doing art, artists and writers may be more observant than others, more aware of their surroundings." She says while others are readily engaged in "doing" first, she is quietly observing. "All people have goals, something they want to accomplish. Artists have the need to create something and the goal to make it perfect. So, the challenge never ends."

"I’ve always thought of myself as an artist," says Rosey. "I think it’s my strong ego." Even if an artist is not an extrovert, he or she will try to do art because person wants to become better.

Rosey chose mythology and fantasy as his most important themes from the start because at first he felt mythological monsters were easier to draw and they were something he could talk to his young son about. Then he began to study and analyze mythology and started writing a book about what makes a monster or how to create one. A little change could make a normal two-eyed person into a one-eyed Cyclops. A change of scale made an eagle into a giant roc. Anything was possible.

Barbara adds that her work occasionally involves psychological monsters and they both agree that the modern monster is often technology or the psyche gone awry.

Appreciating the beauty and harmony of nature is one of Barbara’s inspirations because "observing and enjoying" nature is a natural expression connecting us with life. It is her goal to show that connection. Some of her work is more directly related to people and influenced by her psychology and sociology training.

Often she starts with a firm idea of how the finished piece should look, but sometimes she may start by randomly reacting to a subject and allowing it to take a more subconscious, experimental route. "I’d like to give up control more often, but this is where I feel Rosey’s influence. In life, he is freer than I am, but in art, he is a more conscious thinker, thus his medium of etching, which demands more control."

Barbara experiments with a variety of media: pastels, paints, printmaking, monoprints, etchings. "It really helps to be married to someone who understands the creative process and puts up with the ups and downs of working on a piece," she admits.

Rosey says, "I’m a little better artist because Barbara and I are together." Although Rosey has created with oil and "sometimes tight-assed gouache," he prefers working with the etching process. "An artist must keep creating to be satisfied with himself," he says. "An artist is like a standup comedian–he’s only as good as his last joke."

Separate visions merge

Stephen Plowman and Carol Paulsen met 25 years ago when they were working for the New Ice Age Firewood Co. in Arroyo Grande. Both were part time artists at the time, living in separate "worlds," although they have remained friends and kept in touch throughout the years.

Plowman moved to the East Coast and lived in Vermont in the late 1980’s. Then he traveled the world as an adventure photographer’s assistant for five years, living in the most remote cultures in South America, the Tibet, Mongolia, China and the Soviet Union.

The goal was to photograph endangered indigenous cultures, primarily through the eyes of a child, for a documentary. Plowman sums up his experience by saying, "The spirit of what I did adds to the spirit of what I am today."

He considers his style to be "contemporary-primitive," which has found expression in his early woodworking and ceramics, and even the form and function of boat-building. He says, "The adventure of trying new things has been a very motivating force in my life."

In the 1980s, Paulsen was home with her three young children making art, often in conjunction with her offspring. About eight years ago, she left her first marriage and pursued art full time. "It seemed like now or never at this point in my life," she recalls.

Plowman had just returned from his five years abroad to his Baywood home and the duo were reacquainted through friends. Paulsen insists it was "good luck and timing that brought us together."

The first project they created together was a balustrade for a staircase made from a Volvo drive shaft and concrete pumping ball. Plowman designed and constructed the stairway and balustrade, and Paulsen painted the ball.

"There was a lot of starting over," says Paulsen. "I had the easy part, but it seemed big at the time. It took an unusually long time because I was nervous to be working with Plowman. Since that first small project, we have been a source of inspiration and constructive criticism for each other."

When Plowman and Paulsen work together, they cascade a pool of ideas. "As we talk about a project," Plowman says, "it evolves into a combination of planning and spontaneity, each idea fueling the next, resulting in a combined piece that neither of us could have created alone."

Although the actual individual work is done separately, Plowman might describe what he’s thinking and Paulsen draws the images. They discuss it, alter it and then it is transformed from 2D to 3D.

In the past, Paulsen created a series of dancing women painted and cut into mobiles. Now Plowman uses some of these dancing women in positive and negative forms cut from his metal work: The negative form of a dancing woman running through a stop sign leaves an intriguing hole of light or a dancing sculpture when the positive graceful pose suspended from a circular birdbath is perched on a fence.

Paulsen says, "Working with another artist I respect creates a heightened existence. I can relate, understand and be understood without having to qualify. Being a full-time artist is a rollercoaster ride, but a privilege as well. It keeps us feeling alive."

Plowman agrees. "The remarkable aspect of our relationship is not that we mesh perfectly, but our visions and perceptions of the world challenge each other and keeps our perspectives fluid." He adds that they are both lucky to have worked with people who support private and public art, like Mike and Suzi Kyle.

Mike’s Corporation, C.T. International, is supporting a collaborative public art fountain project, which Plowman and Paulsen are currently finishing together. Plowman, Paulsen and Tiko Van Stone transformed a crusty buoy from Morro Bay and a pile of stainless steel into an elegant, dynamic vision of Water Planet, located at C.T. International’s site in the middle of Santa Fe Road (connecting Buckley and Tank Farm) in SLO. Local artists Larry Nash and Nevin Musgrave contributed to the project.

Currently, in the Firewalk Gallery in the Creamery, Paulsen and Plowman have two metal gates. One gate uses Paulsen’s cup, spoon and saucer images that have been transformed into metal by Plowman. The other incorporates Paulsen’s painted geckos as the focal point of the gate. They were wrapped and textured by Plowman, then incorporated into his metal gate design. Their next public art, a 20’ x 20’ mural painted by Paulsen and flanked by Plowman’s metal leaf sculptures, will be featured on the new SLO parking structure in progress now behind the downtown Post Office.

Spirit and heart

The greatest good isn’t where you expect it to be. Sometimes you need to go past the illusion of what you see, release self-control and embrace partnership. A.me and Mitch Alamag learned these lessons when they first met in 1984 while attending Rhode Island School of Design.

Mitch was working on his BFA and Bachelor’s degree in Architecture, while A.me was completing her BFA in painting. Both their natures and their studios were a contraction: A.me’s was a chaos of disorder and splashed abstract paint, while Mitch’s exhibited his need for order and formal structure reflected in his architecture background.

After graduating, A.me accepted a job in Providence as a jewelry designer, but her boss made her realize the importance of a healthy working environment, so she quit. Mitch had been working in a small architectural firm specializing in historic preservation. In 1985, they joined forces.

The early years together created numerous issues and struggles for power. Their personal approaches toward business and art often differed. Still today these same differences continue to inspire their union. Over the years they have realized the greater good lies not necessarily in what either A. me or Mitch wants, but when they combine ideas or compromise. Their creative efforts began succeeding when they realized business could be a friendly partner to art.

As the costume jewelry capital of the world, Providence provided a fine start. However, after three years and some frustration, they made a conscious decision to change directions. So, in 1987, they moved to Chicago and re-created their business, working on a larger scale, "embellishing" furniture and designing home accessories like picture frames.

Meanwhile, A.me focused on her painting and showing her work in galleries. In 1990, the couple moved to Venice Beach and the world of painting and business collided. Sharing a studio with a storefront, they embarked on what they called their "magical journey" and their art business, Rokoko (rearranged from the Japanese kokoro, which means spirit and heart), was born.

Rokoko became their spiritual school. They truly began to work together, creating their own line of boxes, home accessories, clocks and other furniture and art objects.

Yet, A.me felt if she gave up her own fine art paintings (her serious work), she’d sell out to the commercial world of functional art. She discovered if she let go of this serious artist concept, and allowed her art to flow into all she encountered, her work and play would become one.

She says, "Venice was a great training ground for our metaphysical beliefs, especially when it came to finance. Knowing that our thoughts preceded our life, we simply had to plant the seeds."

One day while idly sitting inside their Venice gallery, A.me took a gold pen to black board and imagined the gold to be her golden touch of wealth and health. The black was the void and she could fill it with the color and the creations of her imagination. Thus, evolved the technique of Rokoko today.

The Alamags’ business thrived in Venice, but they wanted more than an expensive lifestyle and bullets blasting through the window. Having once been invited to show their work at Fred Babb’s What iz Art? in Cambria, they returned to the Central Coast. After realizing they could actually see the stars at night, they settled in Los Osos, creating both a home and a showroom.

The process of Rokoko has changed little. It is only the form that evolves. Mitch provides the form and structure, straight lines and symmetry of each piece. A.me creates the imagery, while allowing the form to inspire. They share in the completion of each piece.

"Mitch made me stand still," A.me admits. "I just wanted to keep going–keep painting." At first, she only wanted to create her original paintings no matter what. Now she gets lost in the void of each black slate and the energy of the unknown.

Mitch is driven by the production and expression in the form he creates. He says, "A.me gives me the content and I provide the vehicle."

Recently, Rokoko has developed a line of painted recycled objects like toasters, vacuum cleaners, skis and golf bags. The newest pieces include figures with rhyming poems.

Each stage of Rokoko has maintained a slogan. In the Providence years, it was "Emerging from the Depths," in Chicago, "A Voluptuous Accessory", in Venice, "Images from the Heart", and early in Los Osos, "Bridge Between Worlds" reigned supreme.

The Alamags are looking forward to working together on the new theme, "Igniting the Cozmic Soul," because both agree that "after you pick the next journey, then it fulfills itself." They believe, "If you’re walking your path, you’ll get whatever you need."

Rokoko is like their religion in that it has taught their highest personalized lessons about relationship with self, world, spirit, compassion, understanding and forgiveness. Says Mitch, "We work for Rokoko as a sharing of spirit and form, lifestyle and energy. More important than the next piece is the peace behind the work."

Influence is not compromise. All these couples, and many others like them, work to find their own balance between a stable loving relationship and the fluid creative process. Whether it is daily inspiration, a presentational challenge, or a union of two different artforms, their love allows their art to explore new levels and new expression. And, each day, they prove that art can speak with the voice of two. Æ

Susane K. Rotalo is an English and Art teacher at SLOHS. She is also one of the founders and on the board of directors for Arts are Core, a local fundraising agency that gives grant funds to the arts in the schools.