I had been driving up to Detroit Michigan in hopes to see a few people after my scheduled work was done with no clue to what I was about to experience and learn.

 

 

The time had not yet come for me to arrive at the studio of Patrick Ethen so I wandered the city about behind the wheel of my parents Honda crv, catching glimpses of the plastered art on the walls around me with my video camera. 

Murals everywhere... of course this was Detroit, home of Murals in the Market and a playground for grafitti goers. I shot each in black and white to match my mood. 

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Minutes went by when I found myself near the Russell and following my gps back to the street that I had past before which held the studio. 

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I had driven past a series of buildings one grey and two brick when I pulled in and turned around. This had to be the place among the construction wasteland that lived beyond the few square blocks of developed land. I began to equip myself with my luggage and decided to give him a call.

 

After a brief pass of information a head stuck out of the doorway from a distance and motioned me inside with a breeze of the hand. I grabbed everything, locked up the car and walked toward the building. 

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He stood in the doorway tall and slender with a welcoming look as I entered through the doorway. My eyes scanned the room in wonder of all the small pieces of materials that decorated the shelves and floors. He described to me the artists who practice within this space and I quickly put together the forms and colors that made up their works. 

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We walked to his portion of the studio which was thick with art and pieces of wire, metal and wood. With enormous tables that rolled their emense weight across the floor to serve greater functions. We spoke about his art and the placement of things. 

Gathering the best method for unearthing these creations. 

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I helped him with the process of moving a few works and found myself weak to the weight of these pieces that were layered in metal and wood. Pertruding from one side were hundreds of colored wires that connected about the board which housed them and the other the home to hundreds of colored dots that rounded outward.

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Each piece was beautiful and the visions created by them were captured with wonder. The visual light work of Patrick Ethen was unlike anything I had seen and I was inspired by the vision he portrays.

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Since viewing his work I often have dreams of the types of patterns explored by his lights. Imagining them dancing against a full wall while I preferably get my groove on at some hot new club in Miami. When I spoke to him about my vision he insists on his hatred for the city and I assure him that my love for it may one day help him. I laugh and continue on to the portrait. 

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His disheveled look fits the one of a mad genius that has been left to his creations. Overly competent and able, but held to the devotion of creation as many artists are.
I spoke to him about his process of finding galleries to house these works that remained in idle space and time in a room where very few would see, I was assured that artists like Patrick Ethan simply need to create while others pull things together to make his work transpire full circle. 

And in the moments between the portrait shots and the microphone break down,

I had began to remember what I had heard the week before from visual artist Patrick Quarm, "Art is about much more than just creating and entering the art world is far much more than selling." 

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The art that I had experienced that day at the studio of Patrick Ethen was unlike any other. And I feel that because it is tucked away in privacy its influence potential will be limited to its creator. I hope to see one of his pieces in my gallery one day. For it brings me great joy to have met this artist. 

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