(Photo by Dion Ogust)
As a local I was long ago acquainted with a) struggling artists, b) cottage industry artists, c) weekend artists, and d) “the ruination of Woodstock” as represented by families attached to businessmen working at Rotron, IBM and eventually imported from New York City.
Recently home for a few days, I hear about a new model of artist in the person of one Lowell Miller, a highly successful investment manager whose company, Miller/Howard, employs almost 50 Hudson Valley residents. While Lowell has lived in town for many years, he’s only recently gone public with what’s been a lifelong pursuit, with fairly instant local attention. We schedule a studio visit by phone, agreeing to meet two hours before the new WAAM exhibition opening for which three of his works were selected by Ian Barry, a guest curator and Director of the Tang Museum at Skidmore College.
Walking through the first room of a large studio, I’m reminded that I’m not a student of modern sculpture — I’m really here out of sheer curiosity. When I inquire, Lowell informs me he didn’t go to art school (though he’s had much feedback from his friend Wade Saunders, a sculptor and sculpture critic for Art in America). And while he’s “absorbed a lot of art” he hasn’t consciously tried to emulate anyone, nor does he consider himself part of any movement or style. “I’m just trying to realize myself,” he says, half way into our hour and a half talk.
“I’ve never encountered a successful businessman who is also a serious artist…” I say by way of a mission statement. Without hesitation Miller counters, “Why favor left brain over right brain? What’s wrong with having both? Some people might have both.”
I blink, conceding the point, and upon hearing that this man is an almost 40-year student of Aikido I am not surprised. The tour continues.
Though cost of materials is clearly not an issue here, Miller’s sculptures are — for the most part — modestly sized and executed in bronze, ceramic, or modest mixed media. A craft-like quality abounds, not in the least self-aggrandizing; the work isn’t cool, slick or academic. These are the creations of someone, who, finding they have something to say, has developed skills sufficient to such expression. In a sense, Lowell Miller seems a three dimensional cartoonist. The work exudes a playfulness, often hinging on a visual pun involving title, but the whimsy isn’t childish, it’s raw, edgy — occasionally, urgently sexual.
“I thought Big Business was prudish,” I posit. “How is it your work is frank if not downright obscene?”
“It’s been a problem, in my mind, at least, but self-censorship is the worst kind of repression…” Miller suggests.
Miller now lets down his guard, telling me a little more about his life than most people would understand and which I am not comfortable in fully revealing. For a man who competes for a living and by way of sport such transparency places a journalist in a curious position. To be specific, while seeking to “dig and reveal,” I am soon provided such an embarrassment of riches that while the writer in me is highly pleased, I also become aware of an instinct to protect my interviewee from his own candor. While in the back of my mind I keep wondering why Miller is giving me far more than I can imagine extracting from him through hard labor.
“You stripped yourself of your armoring.”After studying philosophy and literature at Sarah Lawrence College (in the first graduating class to include males) Miller knew only what he didn’t want to do. Never planning to practice, he bought some time studying law. “I simply wanted the degree and merely passing didn’t require much work. A first love had just ended wretchedly, I was suffering from a highly painful ‘male plumbing’ condition. Physically, psychically, I was in agony — which, we know — is a highly motivational state. I started doing exercises detailed in a book by Wilhelm Reich’s protege, Alexander Lowen, who’d eventually create the field of Bio-energetics. I had a lot of time on my hands so I did a lot of the exercises. And I did them often. For hours and hours. The result being…”
Now it was Miller’s turn to blink. “Exactly. It was like a dam broke. And I went through the demolition process rather quickly. For a few months I sobbed uncontrollably, for another few I yawned, almost constantly. I was living in a cheap place off Great Jones St. (in New York) with a bathtub in the kitchen. Everytime I soaked in the tub a short text popped into my head, and I’d jump out, dripping, to write it down. I sent Rolling Stone magazine a bunch of my texts and they started printing them at $30 a pop. Then Jann Wenner’s austerity regime reduced my fee to $25 which didn’t help my finances any. I thought I should find a way to make a living. But I was busy with all the body changes induce by the armor breakthroughs. Most times when I wasn’t experiencing strange sensations, like a warm ring around my chest glowing and glowing, I found odd postures and contortions to stretch every muscle and joint, stretching out a new container for a new energy.