Josh and I, both, have done numerous artist’s statements over the years. They change like the seasons. Here is mine for this exhibit.
Princess Kate and the Griffin Boys, PawPaw, 1994.
As I look at my photographs in this exhibition, I reflect on my forty-nine years in Madison County and how this place has mentored and ultimately defined me. Initially, I think about the land itself—the soil, the trees, the springs and creeks—and how this land has fed my belly, provided work, built my studio, and given me heat and water and solace. I think, too, about the hundreds of people I’ve met, many I count as close friends, who I never would have met if I’d lived somewhere else. I think about my work, my art, my photography, and increasingly, my writing, and how Madison County has fed that art. It’s allowed me to indulge my interests in culture, history, literature, and photography. It’s provided a pallet, a blank page, as well as, ever diverse and challenging subject matter. It’s hard to imagine living anywhere else.
I’ve been fortunate to have mentors in my life and career—teachers, photographers, close friends, neighbors, farmers, family members, my wife. They’ve all helped shape my life, be what it is. In turn, I’ve been able to offer some measure of guidance to many young people, to be the kind of adult I sought out when I was struggling to find my way.
But as I’ve aged I realize life has come full circle. Increasingly, I find myself surrounded by young people, thirty and forty year olds—my children, Ben and Kate, my long-time assistant, Jamie Paul, yoga instructors, young artists, chefs, musicians, and image makers—and turning to them for guidance, inspiration, and energy.
Josh Copusl. Lower Brush Creek, 2022.
I met ceramic artist Josh Copus not long after he moved to Madison County and we bonded pretty quickly over a mutual love and curiosity about place and people and history. I was struck by his prolific energy and commitment to this county he was now calling home. I love his creativity.
I have been around a number of potters over the years and have long been intrigued and tempted by the clay. When Leslie’s mom passed away, we spoke with Josh about making an urn for her ashes. That initial conversation evolved to Josh offering me space and time and guidance in his studio in exchange for photographs for his Jail Project. With Josh’s encouragement I dug clay from our land, cleaned it, and spent many hours shaping, coiling, smoothing, glazing, and firing, eventually producing an urn I think Faye will like resting in.
This urn, this shaped form from our land, is as much a gift to me as it is to Faye. With it, I’ve discovered something new about myself, reminding me to take risks and be open to new mentors, to be persistent, and to understand that life is for living.
Rob Amberg, 2022.
PLACE: REFLECTIONS BY COPUS AND AMBERG
WEIZENBLATT GALLERY, MARS HILL UNIVERSITY
SEPTEMBER 21-OCTOBER 14, M-F, 10-4
OPENING RECEPTION: SEPTEMBER 28, 6-8 PM