with Binnie Birstein
By Nancy Natale
Binnie Birstein, September 2009, in Ancient Medium, N.E.W. Terrain, the Art Complex
Museum, Duxbury, Massachusetts. Her painting is The Fence, 2008, diptych, encaustic
on panels, 48 x 58 inches
I met Binnie Birstein about a dozen years ago at a New
England Wax meeting in Boston's South End. NEW was founded by a group of
artists who painted with encaustic and wanted to network, share information,
and organize shows of our work. Many, if not most, of us were practicing
artists who were new to the medium. Binnie and I became friends although we
lived a couple of hours away from each other.
In those pre-Facebook, pre-Conference days networking was
difficult. Other than workshops run by R&F Paints, there were few
opportunities to learn more and see how other artists were using encaustic. Binnie and I were both at that first conference in Beverly
and continued to attend for 11 consecutive years through 2017. Once the conference
moved to Provincetown in 2011, we were roommates in a Breakwater room at the
Provincetown Inn each year until 2015, when we began renting a suite with Susan
Lasch Krevitt. We jokingly called ourselves The Three Queens.
NN and BB on a very bright day at the Whitney Museum, 2015
Together and sometimes with a couple of other friends,
Binnie and I made numerous trips to New York City for what we called
"arting," visiting as many galleries, museums, and exhibitions as
possible in a limited time. Binnie was relentless in completing the list that I
had drawn up, despite weather, exhaustion, or my tantrums. She generously put
me up at "Hotel Binnie," her home in Connecticut whenever I
visited. Those were great adventures with lots of laughs, good food, and art
investigations.
Binnie with a Leonardo Drew work at Sikkema Jenkins Gallery in Chelsea, 2010. On this arting trip we braved 17 inches of snow that had fallen that morning on Manhattan
Our arting trips came to an end when Binnie was diagnosed
last August with inoperable pancreatic cancer. She began four months of
chemotherapy that weakened her but did not shrink the tumor. The severity of
treatment caused pain, exhaustion, and drastic weight loss so that she has been
mostly confined to bed. She has been supported through her illness by her
daughter, Sam Yarmis, who is scheduled to graduate from medical school in May
2018, and by a large group of friends—mostly women who are artists—who have
been care sitting with her at home so that she has never been alone. (Binnie's
son, Ben Yarmis, who lives in Texas, has been able to work from Connecticut for
several weeks at a time to be with his mother.)
Binnie Birstein, Compound II, 2018; joint compound, gesso, encaustic, oil, silkscreen on washi; 36 x 24 inches
Photo: Elisa Keogh
Despite her ill health, Binnie was determined to complete a
second large painting to submit for Organic to Geometric, curated by Carol
Pelletier and scheduled for this summer at the Provincetown Art Association and
Museum. Although only one painting could be chosen for inclusion in the show,
Binnie's finished painting, Compound II, is shown here and in the dedication to
Binnie that closes the exhibition catalog.
I interviewed Binnie at her home in Norwalk at the end of
December and asked her about her life as an artist.
Binnie speaking about her work at the Westport Arts Center, Westport, Connecticut, in January 2017
Photo: Jen Greely
NN: Did you always want to be an artist?
BB: When I grew up, I knew you could be a nurse, a teacher,
or a secretary. I didn't want to be a nurse. I also didn't want to be a
secretary because my mother was one and always came home hating her job. But I didn't know that you could be an
artist. This was just at the cusp of the women's movement--not that I was
active--but the liberation ideas were just beginning to be discussed. I graduated
early from high school in 1970. I was looking at all the art schools and
applied to some, but I thought that I needed to be able to do something that I
could "fall back on," so I became an art teacher.
NN: What school did you go to in undergrad?
BB: I went away to the
University of the Americas in Mexico City. I was there for spring quarter. I
had a great time but knew it wasn't where I should be spending four years, so I
left. That summer I worked as a counselor at a sleep-away camp, and then I got
a job working at the color print shop at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They
used to have books of Italian prints and sold art prints. It was great to be
able to work there when the museum was not open to the public. I was able to
walk through the museum with no one there. I found it very exciting! I worked
there for two and a half years, first full time and then part time.
Continuing with my education, I got accepted to Pratt, part
scholarship and part tuition. I was petrified by the amount of money I or my
father would have to pay for tuition, so instead of Pratt I went to City
College of New York (CCNY) in Manhattan for free and was an art
education/psychology major. I was going to do art therapy.
Left: Orbit, 2011; encaustic, ink, oilstick on panel, 20 x 20 inches
Right: Nightclub Flyers, 2011; encaustic, ink on panel, 15 x 15 inches
I was there for four years and although I was concentrating
on learning what I needed to become a teacher, I became known as the "art
star," without my awareness. At graduation there was an awards ceremony
and no one told me in advance that I was going to get the top prize—maybe $500
or some cash award like that. It was an honor, but those things don't pay the
rent! [Note: Binnie graduated summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa.]
NN: What was next?
BB: I didn't have a problem getting a job teaching at the
K-12 level and worked toward my Master's part time. I got married right after
graduation to my first husband and got a job in Lexington, South Carolina. He
was going to grad school in microbiology there, and I was supporting the two of
us. It was supposed to be two years, but it ended up being three. I was the
only Jewish person. I asked the school superintendent, "What are we going to do
about the high holidays coming up?" and I showed him on the calendar when they
were.' He said, "I don't rightly know. You're the only one we've
got."' I don't know if this experience made me a better artist, but it
sure gave me a lot of material!
My husband got a job in Rochester, New York, and we moved there. I got a teaching job pretty easily. I enjoyed teaching although it was exhausting. I found great joy in sharing my passion in painting and drawing. I've always liked teaching and have continued with that by teaching workshops to adults. I was there 12 years. We got divorced somewhere during that time but we didn't have children. I stayed on afterwards because my friends and connections were there.
Above: Tangle, 2010, encaustic on panel, 20 x 30 inches
Below: Unfathomable, 2010, encaustic on panel, 20 x 30 inches
NN: What took you away from Rochester?
BB: Love. I met Jonathan, my second husband. His stepmother and
my mother were really good friends and had been trying to put us together for
years. I told him I wanted to stay home and have babies without trying to
impress him. He liked that idea.
He had a great job and traveled all over. I was able to go
with him because we were just renting an apartment. We moved to
Connecticut—Norwalk first, then Fairfield, and then Weston. We were married in
1989 and Ben, my first child, was born in 1991. Sam, my daughter, came in 1994.
We were married more than 20 years before divorcing.
What Lies Beneath: Pool, 2012; encaustic, ink, graphite on panel, 48 x 36 inches
NN: Did you work at home when you had the kids?
BB: When we bought a house, I had a studio in it. I had to
give up oil because I was having a reaction to solvents. I started painting in acrylic
on canvas. I always worked out of my house in an extra bedroom or an attic.
NN: What about when the kids came?
BB: I had what I thought of as an open studio for the kids.
They painted or played while I was in the studio and my husband helped with them
on the weekends. Once they were in nursery school and kindergarten, I had a lot
of free time.
Left: Save the Party, 1988-89, acrylic with Caran d'Arce on canvas, 18 x 18 inches
Right: Up/Down, 2014 encaustic, monotype on panel, 8 x 10 inches
NN: What is the object of this composition? (I am looking at Save The Party in Binnie's dining room)
BB: Apparently it's "my shape." It's an off-angle
that might be floating or falling or that could be seen as being protective.
The off-angle relates to the edges of the painting—where the lines hit the
edges—rather than making a shape. I've been doing those lines for a very long
time, going back to 1987 or '88 or '89.
NN: Are you thinking of that shape as part of a rectangle or as space?
BB: Yes! In some places it's a shape and in other places it
could just be linear or it could be a tabletop or you could be looking off into
the distance. I like the ambivalence.
When you're painting, you're not particularly thinking of
intention per se, like space or an object.
The box/grid thing is the organization but also represents
me, personally, being put into a box. The gridlines—I would do them differently
and then play off with more gestural marks. It was all about working in response to a grid, so I was
thinking about a lot of limitations or categories for myself, like "just a
mom" or something.
NN: And that's where the off-angle came from?
BB: From not fitting in, out of a large level of discomfort.
It's that angle where the door is not quite closed, something is not right.
That has been in my work for a long time. I read it as a line or as a shape,
but I never thought about it like that before today. I realize it stems from a
feeling I have, but that's not what I'm thinking about when I'm painting. It
just seems to belong there and I recognize that angle in other peoples' work. I
only saw it consciously when I saw a lot of my work together.
NN: You're relating it to you personally?
BB: Yes, but not that specifically as referring to a
particular event or memory.
Abandoned, 2010, encaustic on panel, 20 x 30 inches
NN: When did you begin working with encaustic?
BB: Sam was probably in kindergarten—about 1999. I had just
been introduced to the Center for Contemporary Printmaking (CCP) in Norwalk and
was working with oil-based monotypes. You can work out a lot of ideas with
those.
I did the Monothon at CCP and then signed up for classes.
Laura Moriarty was substitute teaching for a class I was taking there, and then
she taught a class in encaustic. I wound up taking encaustic painting with her
twice, in 1999 or 2000. I loved the layers in encaustic and that I didn't have
to wait for drying time. I loved its translucency.
The difference between painting with encaustic or acrylic
was what I really liked. I think good work always has energy. It doesn't have
to be dependent on the medium.
NN: You also continued to do printmaking throughout the
years and got into encaustic collagraph, correct?
BB: You get a lot of bang for your buck in printmaking. When
I'm doing printmaking, I'm thinking the same way as in painting. I had seen
encaustic collagraph online but I figured out how to make it work. I can get
that painterly line with collagraph but the images are repetitive. I started
printing with oil and then switched to water-based Akua ink with collagraph.
Binnie with silkscreen and encaustic work, early 2017
Photo: Jen Greely
NN: Is the newest element in your work silk screening on encaustic?
BB: I don't know that it's an element. It's another tool. I
took that silk screening workshop with Jeff Hirst at CCP. It was the best!
I realize that if you look at my work from the '80s until
now, it's the same painting. It is and it isn't. That structure is really
important to me. I took the silkscreen class because I knew I was painting the
same thing over and over. I thought, why don't I find a way to repeat it? It's
not a complicated technique, but it offers me more options in how I'm going to
do my painting. Layers are important to me--like layers in a day or something
like that.
I don't think the pool is the swimming pool. It's the
cesspool, the steno pool, the gene pool, the whole thing. I'm not thinking
structure or energy. I'm thinking of my other word games.
NN: What about the dichotomy in your work, the way it can be
interpreted in various ways? In your statement you describe "the feeling of dichotomy
and a dreamlike dissonance with a sense of mystery."
Binnie at A Wrinkle In Time, her solo show at ArtPlace, Fairfield, Connecticut, 2010
BB: My series with the flying/falling figures made it more
literal. That disturbed a lot of people. The show I did with that series, A
Wrinkle in Time, was a really good show. I had those paintings and the prickly
balls, with asphalt from the driveway, barbed wire, and netting.
The Menace/Rescue paintings could be interpreted either way
depending on your perspective. How to interpret that figure above? When I did
that work, it was before Trump but that feeling…
Intrepid from the Menace/Rescue Series, 2008, 48 x 58 inches
NN: Do you consider yourself successful as an artist?
BB: Yeah, I do. Even though I don't sell a lot. People think
that you're successful if you have a studio, you teach, you sell your work.
There are all different ways to define "successful." Some people
think you're only successful if you sell your work, others if you show it,
others if you get commissions.
NN: What about keeping at it, continuing to work? What makes
you go to the studio and make another painting?
BB: That's how I communicate. I hate writing. I don't talk a
lot—despite what my friends say!
If I was looking at me, not knowing me, it looks like I'm
successful and I just had all these shows.
I'm not out of ideas, I'm still painting, I need the time.
I've got the ideas. I'm not afraid of staring at a blank panel. I think it's
important not to listen to too many people. You can't look enough, but when you
start looking and you don't edit or anything….
NN: Now I have to ask you the last questions. What happened
when your career was cut short by your illness?
BB: Things were going well for me last summer with several
shows and interest in my work, but then everything got short circuited. I wasn’t
feeling well so I put things off, waiting until I had more energy, but the energy
never came. Now my energy depends on the day and the time of day. I want to get
to the studio again but I just have to do it when I can.
NN: Do you think you are leaving a legacy?
BB: I don't think anyone sets out to leave a legacy. It's
not something that you seek to leave behind because you are concentrating on
going forward. I can't quantify any of this because I had no idea any of it was
coming.
I always thought my work would be my legacy, but when I
think about it more deeply, I realize that my children are my greatest
legacy--and my students. I have always been passionate about making art and I
wanted to pass on that passion and energy to my students. Lately I've been
getting notes and letters from former students saying how much my teaching
meant to them, even students that I taught in high school. That's something I
didn't expect.
Binnie in her studio, December 2017, surrounded by her work
Photo: Jen Greely
In her Q&A feature this month,
Nancy Natale interviews Binnie Birstein, an expressive painter who has never
shied away from working large. This is a special feature, hard wrought by both
interviewer and interviewee, because Binnie is battling a serious illness and
every interview session took an enormous amount of energy. Nancy, her longtime
friend, delivered an article that will serve as a legacy to an exhibiting artist
who is just hitting her stride professionally. Brava to both for the effort,
with our deepest wishes of love and comfort to Binnie, our friend and colleague.
