Jonathan Quinn

12X16 Acrylic on Linen

Trapezoid: Globe Segment-1, 2017, 34" Paint on wood

Trapezoid: Globe Segment-Sunny blue, 2017, 34" Paint on wood

Two globe-segments divided by three parallels, paint on wood, 28"X23", 2015

Globe in space with meridian, Mixed untreated wood, 24"X 24", 2015

Sun, Earth, Moon, 16"X 16", Photograph, 2015

An analemma is the path the sun appears to travel each year as viewed from a terrestrial vantage point. The top and bottom points are winter or summer solstice. The intersection (indicated here by an over or underpass) would be summer or fall equinox. The distortion of the pure figure-8 shape would imply a unique and predominately north to south (or south to north) traversing of the globe during the year.

Wood construction, clear finish, golden or blue paint, 10-1/2 X 22" framed, 28X36" mounted, 8’ free hanging 2016-17-18

Composite illustration, 2015

24X30, Plywood template, 2017

Wall-hanging reliefs that can function as a sundial.

These should float if tossed into the ocean

Red Oak Wall Relief (set of four),  18"X24" 2018

Red Oak Wall Relief,  48"X36" 2015

Red Oak Wall Relief (prototype),  28"X24" 2014

Photography

Gravity, Composite photo Illustration in acrylic with red oak shelf, 24"X28", 2015

24X30, Acrylic on Linen

Mixed media, Vintage dagar board from a small sailboat, Tempered 1/4 glass with etching, Red oak., 60X70, 2015

In the pre-modern age, a fathom was the measure of the depth of water you would likely drown in. It doesn't matter if you have six inches, six feet or 600 feet --you can't touch the bottom.

In our time a fathom is equal to six feet.

We live in an age where our algorithms have unknown data points. We've relinquished control of our locations to the artificial. We've abdicated our decisions about acquiring enough evidence to make proper assessments on just about everything --trusting in the trigonometric intersections themselves rather then the voracity of the facts imputed into the equation.

A tuning fork in its three most extreme states. The extremities of vibration and stasis. Red Oak, 36"X 36", 2017

 Red Oak, Cast Aluminum, photograph, 11X19, 2014

Poster Print, 16X20, 2014 (from a drawing from 1976)
The three most extreme states of a tuning fork

Short videos.
The longest one is 1-1/2 minutes

In 1994 I made a series of small watercolors of the earth as seen from a vantage point in space. Each small painting was essentially the same view and was an extension of a simple premise about the landscape and assumptions of how we perceive apriori. The curve of the earth; that sort of thing.

I decided to join the IAAA, the International Association of Astronomical Artists and it looked as if my membership was assured but I received a follow-up phone call from a board member who wanted to determine my affiliations.

It seems there was a riff amongst members. On one side was a group of illustrators whose mission was to depict (with accuracy) the broad spectrum of stars, planets, galaxies --in all it's near-incomprehensible glory. On the other was what they called "the starry starry night" crowd --referring to the Van Gogh painting and a group of artist intent on creating abstractions that --they argued-- could be valid speculations of a reality yet to be understood.

Since I thought the distinction was non-existent and an affiliation either way was of no interest to me I decided to withdraw my application.

Some samples of work from 1976 to 1979. Photography, Posters, Plexiglas cut-outs silhouettes, sculptures.