all morning i've been painting and taking a red pen to poems-in-progress. there's some pretty good stuff in that stack... i'm just not sure how to make them really shine. i've let them breathe long enough and would like to get back to work on them. it feels like it's been a long time since i "seriously" wrote something. if i've ever really been serious about it, i'm not sure, but this time last year there was such a huge fire in my belly and i had to write it out. now, i sift ashes, looking for fragments worth dusting off, polishing and re-planting somewhere else.
i suppose a poem is never quite perfect and i spend a lot of time beating myself up about that fact, thinking it's only my poems that are never perfect and that maybe if i was smarter or prettier or frailer or anything-er, the poems would be better. silliness.
and i turned one of my paintings black. i was nervous to do it but i'm glad i went ahead and got brave. there's a mood now in the work and an availability for a wide open narrative that i really like. in fact, i'm thinking of making it blacker... like a super underexposed photograph or a memory you can't quite see... just feel.
Apr 28, 2009
Apr 25, 2009
from germany with love...
not entirely out of nowhere, but nevertheless sudden and unexpected, i've been seized by anything and everything GERMAN for the last 48 hours of my life... i mean, to the point of not really getting things done. that is how hard and hot and huge my fascination has been. it has me running back and forth between Anselm Kiefer paintings and Rammstein videos, from weird Nina Hagen operas to the poems of Paul Celan. i've even been listening to Falco (i miss you) even though he's Viennese, not German, but sang in German so i've allowed him in to my hot-tub too. and this fever shows no signs of breaking any time soon. i must learn this language so i can stop emailing the one person i know who speaks german, asking him for translations of songs and what not. i must get to Berlin and drink beer and chain-smoke and eat whatever the hell is put in front of me.
this is my favorite painting by mr. kiefer and i was lucky enough to see it in person at his retrospective at SFMOMA a couple years ago. there's just something about the led window drilled on top of this painting that holds me- a little grid that tries to establish order over chaos. and of course, touring through his massive, building-sized paintings and books, i had all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about a man who lists "semen" as one of his painting materials.
and a word of warning about this video- very artistic, but equally disturbing. written about a gruesome act of cannibalism/murder, "Mien Tiel" means "my part" and deals with the completely horrific fulfillment of Armin Meiwes personal ad.
brutal, fascinating, fearless, and completely compelling... i need to see Germany. i need to smell it and wander in its forests.
this is my favorite painting by mr. kiefer and i was lucky enough to see it in person at his retrospective at SFMOMA a couple years ago. there's just something about the led window drilled on top of this painting that holds me- a little grid that tries to establish order over chaos. and of course, touring through his massive, building-sized paintings and books, i had all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about a man who lists "semen" as one of his painting materials.
and a word of warning about this video- very artistic, but equally disturbing. written about a gruesome act of cannibalism/murder, "Mien Tiel" means "my part" and deals with the completely horrific fulfillment of Armin Meiwes personal ad.
brutal, fascinating, fearless, and completely compelling... i need to see Germany. i need to smell it and wander in its forests.
Apr 23, 2009
in fog...
i put on my grey dress and we walked through the vineyard fog. the poppies still sleeping, but strange, wakeful birds clicked in the tall trees. i brought the fog home with me, cloaked these daughters in it, and remembered my long lost sunday dresses...
my sister and i posed together
in simple frocks our mother made-
up all night at her sewing machine,
without our father
and brother,
without without without...
but we make progress here...
sunday 3 (sheep in fog)- in progress shot
30" x 40"
oil on canvas
number three in this strange series. these two sisters appearing on there own... unexpected. in my work, two girls have always signals me and my sister, and this painting in particular makes me miss her company more than i usually do- that strange tie that keeps us, makes us. we are very different girls but not separate in the least, standing close to keep the secrets from spilling out, to keep from feeling afraid, and the only time in my life i was not afraid of the dark was when we were young and small and shared a room, sleeping safe in bunk beds...
and now these weird years when a person begins to look back, picking through memories and wondering if those times were real or dreamed, and the last line of a plath poems flashes in the brush and the canvas finds its name before it finds its finish...
SHEEP IN FOG
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells-
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
-Sylvia Plath
from Ariel
my sister and i posed together
in simple frocks our mother made-
up all night at her sewing machine,
without our father
and brother,
without without without...
but we make progress here...
sunday 3 (sheep in fog)- in progress shot
30" x 40"
oil on canvas
number three in this strange series. these two sisters appearing on there own... unexpected. in my work, two girls have always signals me and my sister, and this painting in particular makes me miss her company more than i usually do- that strange tie that keeps us, makes us. we are very different girls but not separate in the least, standing close to keep the secrets from spilling out, to keep from feeling afraid, and the only time in my life i was not afraid of the dark was when we were young and small and shared a room, sleeping safe in bunk beds...
and now these weird years when a person begins to look back, picking through memories and wondering if those times were real or dreamed, and the last line of a plath poems flashes in the brush and the canvas finds its name before it finds its finish...
SHEEP IN FOG
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells-
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
-Sylvia Plath
from Ariel
Apr 22, 2009
the birthing of a new ritual...
i started my morning the way i always do- a pot of coffee and scribbling away in my journal. but rather than jump straight in to painting after that, me and inga went on a hike first thing. no one was really out and about yet so we had the entire acreage of the vineyard to ourselves. it was lovely, bright, and still chilly enough to wear a sweater. the birds were the only other life awake and in the huge silence of the woods that line the edge of the vineyard, sleepy mosquitoes buzzed lazily by without biting me even once.
when we got back to the house, i brewed a second pot of coffee and then sat on the front porch with the book i've been reading and finished it right away- letter to a child never born by oriana fallaci. without a doubt, one of the most intense things i've read... a document of sadness and loss in the extreme, "And before me stretch valleys of sadness where pride blooms in vain". beautiful... and i grieved with every printed word, every embarrassed confession, every hard judgement... a pleasure to begin a new day feeling wholly compassionate and sensitive toward the world, toward honest people- an honest blessing if ever there was one.
and then in the studio, i worked calmly and slowly for about 4 hours before deciding that i had had my fill of heavy seriousness and took a break to play with some lighter subject matter. the big gulp paintings rise again:
,+15x11,+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009.JPG)
untitled (Angela's Backyard 4)
15" x 11"
gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
,+15x11,+acrylic+and+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009+(2).JPG)
untitled (Angela's Backyard 5)
15" x 11"
acrylic and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
the white in both of these little paintings is the white of untouched paper. the black is velvety, matte gouache, and in #5, the stripes and spills are defined with bronze and copper fluid acrylic. so much fun! and so worth the time it takes to harness a steady hand. :)
available at black fence.
when we got back to the house, i brewed a second pot of coffee and then sat on the front porch with the book i've been reading and finished it right away- letter to a child never born by oriana fallaci. without a doubt, one of the most intense things i've read... a document of sadness and loss in the extreme, "And before me stretch valleys of sadness where pride blooms in vain". beautiful... and i grieved with every printed word, every embarrassed confession, every hard judgement... a pleasure to begin a new day feeling wholly compassionate and sensitive toward the world, toward honest people- an honest blessing if ever there was one.
and then in the studio, i worked calmly and slowly for about 4 hours before deciding that i had had my fill of heavy seriousness and took a break to play with some lighter subject matter. the big gulp paintings rise again:
,+15x11,+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009.JPG)
untitled (Angela's Backyard 4)
15" x 11"
gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
,+15x11,+acrylic+and+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009+(2).JPG)
untitled (Angela's Backyard 5)
15" x 11"
acrylic and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
the white in both of these little paintings is the white of untouched paper. the black is velvety, matte gouache, and in #5, the stripes and spills are defined with bronze and copper fluid acrylic. so much fun! and so worth the time it takes to harness a steady hand. :)
available at black fence.
Apr 21, 2009
and then i found this poem...
let's just make this MAN APPRECIATION DAY. men are wonderful. why not?
New Mother
A week after our child was born,
you cornered me in the spare room
and we sank down on the bed.
You kissed me and kissed me, my milk undid its
burning slip-knot through my nipples,
soaking my shirt. All week I had smelled of milk,
fresh milk, sour. I began to throb:
my sex had been torn easily as cloth by the
crown of her head, I'd been cut with a knife and
sewn, the stitches pulling at my skin-
and the first time you're broken, you don't know
you'll be healed, better than before.
I lay in fear and blood and milk
while you kissed and kissed me, your lips hot and swollen
as a teen-age boy's, your sex dry and big,
all of you so tender, you hung over me,
over the nest of the stitches, over the
splitting and tearing, with the patience of someone who
finds a wounded animal in the woods
and stays with it, not leaving its side
until it is whole, until it can run again.
-Sharon Olds
from The Dead and The Living
New Mother
A week after our child was born,
you cornered me in the spare room
and we sank down on the bed.
You kissed me and kissed me, my milk undid its
burning slip-knot through my nipples,
soaking my shirt. All week I had smelled of milk,
fresh milk, sour. I began to throb:
my sex had been torn easily as cloth by the
crown of her head, I'd been cut with a knife and
sewn, the stitches pulling at my skin-
and the first time you're broken, you don't know
you'll be healed, better than before.
I lay in fear and blood and milk
while you kissed and kissed me, your lips hot and swollen
as a teen-age boy's, your sex dry and big,
all of you so tender, you hung over me,
over the nest of the stitches, over the
splitting and tearing, with the patience of someone who
finds a wounded animal in the woods
and stays with it, not leaving its side
until it is whole, until it can run again.
-Sharon Olds
from The Dead and The Living
morning love letter...
lately, i've been impressed with men. one man in particular-
he wakes up every morning at 5:15 and kisses my face and rubs me gently til i wake up too. he hops in the shower while i make the coffee and we talk about what dreams we had or the trash television of the night before. we use the same toothbrush, neither one of us seeing the point in owning two. i watch him get dressed and pack himself a lunch. i tell him which painting i plan to work on first.
a half hour later, he heads off to work. everyday, i watch the tail lights disappear out the driveway and feel sad. no matter how long we've been together, no matter how many times it happens, watching him leave, even just to go to work, is the hardest part of the day.
when he gets home he asks me how my day was and comes to look at the paintings. he hugs me and we plan dinner. he never complains about the mess in the kitchen. he never points out the laundry that i still haven't done. "just paint", he says. and he says it everyday.
and when i find myself in that horrible place of doubt and loneliness and confusion, and i give myself over to being neurotic and sad and defeated, he holds me and lets me cry for as long as it takes. he doesn't turn his back, he comes closer. he says he knows it's hard and unfair and unfamiliar. he recounts my accomplishments for me and holds them up like trophies and says "and no one thought you could do this but you did! so keep going".
he keeps his arms around me until i'm calm and my cheeks are dry.
sometimes it seems that he believes in me more than i do... that his faith in art is bigger than mine and that his belief in my abilities are seamless and complete and humongous. he extends his belief in me daily. he tells me that his responsibility in life is to make sure i've always got plenty of canvas and that everything will always be okay as long as that's the case. he reads my art magazines and learns the lingo. he goes with me to the openings. he laughs easily.
my appreciation of his goodness is too large to give name to. he inspires me to be better than i am... to toughen up, to be thankful, to slow down, to enjoy the world, to find a stillness that isn't lonely, to be in love as often as possible and then some; to work and struggle and believe. every morning while he kisses my face and rubs me gently, i know i have more luck than i deserve.
i love you endlessly, jared.
he wakes up every morning at 5:15 and kisses my face and rubs me gently til i wake up too. he hops in the shower while i make the coffee and we talk about what dreams we had or the trash television of the night before. we use the same toothbrush, neither one of us seeing the point in owning two. i watch him get dressed and pack himself a lunch. i tell him which painting i plan to work on first.
a half hour later, he heads off to work. everyday, i watch the tail lights disappear out the driveway and feel sad. no matter how long we've been together, no matter how many times it happens, watching him leave, even just to go to work, is the hardest part of the day.
when he gets home he asks me how my day was and comes to look at the paintings. he hugs me and we plan dinner. he never complains about the mess in the kitchen. he never points out the laundry that i still haven't done. "just paint", he says. and he says it everyday.
and when i find myself in that horrible place of doubt and loneliness and confusion, and i give myself over to being neurotic and sad and defeated, he holds me and lets me cry for as long as it takes. he doesn't turn his back, he comes closer. he says he knows it's hard and unfair and unfamiliar. he recounts my accomplishments for me and holds them up like trophies and says "and no one thought you could do this but you did! so keep going".
he keeps his arms around me until i'm calm and my cheeks are dry.
sometimes it seems that he believes in me more than i do... that his faith in art is bigger than mine and that his belief in my abilities are seamless and complete and humongous. he extends his belief in me daily. he tells me that his responsibility in life is to make sure i've always got plenty of canvas and that everything will always be okay as long as that's the case. he reads my art magazines and learns the lingo. he goes with me to the openings. he laughs easily.
my appreciation of his goodness is too large to give name to. he inspires me to be better than i am... to toughen up, to be thankful, to slow down, to enjoy the world, to find a stillness that isn't lonely, to be in love as often as possible and then some; to work and struggle and believe. every morning while he kisses my face and rubs me gently, i know i have more luck than i deserve.
i love you endlessly, jared.
Apr 20, 2009
,+11x7.5,+graphite+and+gesso+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009.JPG)
nameless...
after consuming enough coffee to murder a small donkey and struggling with installing, un-installing, and re-installing photo programs this morning i'm finally back to being technologically competent. big sigh of relief.
this is the mess i made all over the gallery floor yesterday...
and this is the drawing i made during my two hour time slot...
.JPG)
unnamed drawing
15" x 11"
graphite and masking tape on paper
angela simione, 2009
i stopped drawing every now and then to chat with strangers and enjoy a glass of wine with a sweet woman named maggie that seemed to really know where the work was coming from. i love it when that happens: the mind-meld with a complete stranger... an affinity that goes beyond class or status or clothes or all the other arbitrary markers of a person's type and kind... just two humans with a whole slew of commonalities that don't need to be talked about or sorted out because you already understand each other and no explanations are necessary. lovely.
detail
these sisters are, as of now, unnamed.
this is the mess i made all over the gallery floor yesterday...
and this is the drawing i made during my two hour time slot...
.JPG)
unnamed drawing
15" x 11"
graphite and masking tape on paper
angela simione, 2009
i stopped drawing every now and then to chat with strangers and enjoy a glass of wine with a sweet woman named maggie that seemed to really know where the work was coming from. i love it when that happens: the mind-meld with a complete stranger... an affinity that goes beyond class or status or clothes or all the other arbitrary markers of a person's type and kind... just two humans with a whole slew of commonalities that don't need to be talked about or sorted out because you already understand each other and no explanations are necessary. lovely.
detail
these sisters are, as of now, unnamed.
Apr 19, 2009
YAY!!!
oh, i had such a wonderful time yesterday! i got to the gallery a few hours early to mingle, drink wine, take my time getting comfortable and set up, and hopefully fight over some art. i walked away with a jessica niello for myself and an eric jacobsen for my sweetie. yay! both of which are completely gorgeous and are excellent editions to our budding art collection. and most importantly, both artists are serious, are wonderful with their craft, and make images that pull on my heart-strings. i also got to do an amazing art swap with mr. piero spadaro yesterday (wow!) and am busy re-arranging the art on my walls to make it the center of attention. thank you piero! :)
i took pictures but for some odd reason, my computer isn't letting me upload them. boooooo! maybe i need to re-install the program... which means i've got to track down the disk. :( i'll get around to that later and will post some pictures as soon as i get my technical difficulties worked out.
and in other wonderful, unexpected, and completely awe-striking news: my gallery is taking "Lineage" with them next month to the art fair in New York! YAY! it shipped out yesterday and i couldn't be more thrilled about my maids meeting a new audience. astounding! and i am endlessly grateful. my gallery is, and always has been, so supportive of the work i do and this is such an unexpected display of that support that i am left feeling completely honored. thank you so so so much, guys! thank you!
i took pictures but for some odd reason, my computer isn't letting me upload them. boooooo! maybe i need to re-install the program... which means i've got to track down the disk. :( i'll get around to that later and will post some pictures as soon as i get my technical difficulties worked out.
and in other wonderful, unexpected, and completely awe-striking news: my gallery is taking "Lineage" with them next month to the art fair in New York! YAY! it shipped out yesterday and i couldn't be more thrilled about my maids meeting a new audience. astounding! and i am endlessly grateful. my gallery is, and always has been, so supportive of the work i do and this is such an unexpected display of that support that i am left feeling completely honored. thank you so so so much, guys! thank you!
Apr 17, 2009
i keep forgetting to mention...
tomorrow, there's a huge drawing event at my gallery. a whole bunch of us artists will be on-site with our paper and pencils and whatever else we feel like making marks with, and everything we come up with will be priced firmly at 50 bucks a shot. super cheap! i'm definitely planning on beefing up my art collection tomorrow in addition to making some creepy, pretty things of my own. if you're in the bay area, stop on it, bring a friend, help us drink the wine, and crack some jokes too. we'd love to see you! my drawing time is the last round from 3 - 5pm but i'll be hanging out the whole time. we start at 1pm. see you there!
Apr 16, 2009
funny money...
shortly after noon, the mail-man arrived with my much anticipated gallery check so you know what i did? i checked out from the studio early, took my dog on a quick hike, and then headed off to my beloved macy's. :) um hmm, mamma needs a brand new dress! DKNY, here i come! ha! i saw a slew of lovely things that i would've loved to bring home but the dressing room mirror refuses to let me lie to myself and, as a rule, i will not buy clothes that don't look like a million bucks on me. very few designers make clothes for the hour-glass figure these days so i take my sweet time trying things on when i go shopping, searching for the perfect fit. i scored a sweet pair of pants and was busy looking at shoes when my lover called and asked if i'd pick up dinner. he's been working tons of overtime lately and is always so damn sweet to me that saying no to such a cute request isn't ever going to happen. so on the way home, i stopped and picked up a fine mexican dinner for my sweetheart and i, and 2 bottles of chardonnay (one of which i just uncorked). mmmm mmmm yum. all in all, i had a wonderful day.
Apr 15, 2009
lucky little angela...
i went ahead and took two hours of additional sleep for myself this morning. i'd had some wine last night after working hard on the paintings i've got going, and when the alarm clock went off this morning i instantly decided that i'd earned a bit more rest. getting up at 5:30 in the morning for the past month or so has been great for me in terms of not only being productive but feeling productive as well so... even though i felt a bit guilty staying in bed till 7:30, it felt pretty good too. :) and after the first hour in my little studio this morning, i realized that i'm farther along with one of my paintings than i thought. in fact, it's almost done. and seeing the end of the road with a painting, knowing exactly what comes next, and how to get there always gets me excited... so i've had alot of breaks today to help me stay calm and not get ahead of myself. i know myself well enough at this point to be on guard against my tendency to do goofy things when i'm in a rush to call something "done". besides, it's another sunny, beautiful day si i'm heading outdoors to bless myself with a long hike my dog. california poppies have taken over the vineyards and i'm really starting to be aware of just how lucky i am to live where i do: deer nosing in my back yard, wild flowers on every hillside, and still a pretty quick drive to the city. lucky, lucky, lucky.
ordinary people are so extraordinary...
i absolutely love this and it leaves me speechless and tearful every time i see it. please watch.
ladies and gentlemen....
susan boyle.
ladies and gentlemen....
susan boyle.
Apr 14, 2009
love, love, LOVE this...
Dear ____________ful,
The lucky come when most convenient, as do seashells to the sea. You care about the fall, whereas I the falling. For instance, when the muffler fell off my car and onto the street, I cradled the rusted hollow like a dying pig. My father accused me of leaving him the second I was born, that I'd fallen the same way. The mechanic said, Unrepairable. I picked at the blister on my thumb, the newing skin beneath marking me older. What kept growing I wasn't sure.
Yours,
____________Ful
-Esther Lee
courtesy of Five Fingers Review 23... stunning (sigh).
The lucky come when most convenient, as do seashells to the sea. You care about the fall, whereas I the falling. For instance, when the muffler fell off my car and onto the street, I cradled the rusted hollow like a dying pig. My father accused me of leaving him the second I was born, that I'd fallen the same way. The mechanic said, Unrepairable. I picked at the blister on my thumb, the newing skin beneath marking me older. What kept growing I wasn't sure.
Yours,
____________Ful
-Esther Lee
courtesy of Five Fingers Review 23... stunning (sigh).
when i was little...
it is a beautiful, sunny, windy day. i love the wind. ever since i was a kid, i've loved it. i'd put on my roller skates and a coat, go outside, and hold open my coat like a sail and let the wind wheel me down the street. oh, the perks of being 65 pounds! ha! maybe if the wind gets strong enough, i could take it for a ride like that again. :)
Apr 13, 2009
free...
the laundry spins and wasps bump against the window pane; i lift my eyelids and i lift my arm. i lift my brush. there. there. there. i am lost in the bow tied at the neck of her dress. precise. she is lovely... the little one, the youngest of the grey girls...
it has been a good day for painting.
i came across another stack of drawings that i no longer have room for and aren't fit to be shown. on my way to the recycle bin, i turned around and brought them all back inside. i got out my straight-edge instead and tore them down to postcard size. i've got a ton of strange half-faces, halved paper-dolls, and drip-ridden abstractions sitting in my bookcase now. if you want one send me your address. the first round will go out this weekend and you are more than welcome to as many as you'd like: angelasimione@aol.com
it has been a good day for painting.
i came across another stack of drawings that i no longer have room for and aren't fit to be shown. on my way to the recycle bin, i turned around and brought them all back inside. i got out my straight-edge instead and tore them down to postcard size. i've got a ton of strange half-faces, halved paper-dolls, and drip-ridden abstractions sitting in my bookcase now. if you want one send me your address. the first round will go out this weekend and you are more than welcome to as many as you'd like: angelasimione@aol.com
good morning, monday!
sorry about not posting during the weekend- super busy! and with nothing terribly exciting or art related... unless, of course, throwing out old drawings that have been following me around since my community college days counts. and even though i feel much better now, yesterday i was a bit despondent about the whole thing. i get attached to things quite easily- a habit i am hard at work with trying to break. i have all sorts of sentimental attachments to things, objects, items that i'd be better off without. it's hard work and not the least bit fun to let go off things like old photos of people you aren't friends with anymore and weren't really friends with in the first place. it's hard to let go of old letters and bad art and nic-naks from a decade ago... but it must be done and so i rise to the challenge again. this is round 3 of my somewhat-spring cleaning and it has gotten quite cut-throat around here. my sweetie has been very compassionate about the whole thing and very encouraging as well. he seems to understand, completely, how hard it is sometimes for a romantic girl like me to throw out an old teddy bear.
but now it's monday and, with the weekend and it's emotionalism under my belt, i am back in the studio and already brewing myself a second pot of coffee. thank god for wondrous hazelnut and oil paint. my 'grey girls' are coming along so nicely. i must be on the 14th layer of paint by now. still nowhere near being done but having a ton of fun working on it and re-learning so much. it's a painting that i feel gratitude toward. and my second 'maids' painting is going pretty well too... i think i'll start number 3 later today and really jump in to this series with both feet. i'm just too excited about it not to. i printed out a picture of 'Lineage' and tacked it up in my little studio and have felt so much better ever since. i really do love that painting. :) but she deserves to be out in the world and given the chance to work her magic.
but now it's monday and, with the weekend and it's emotionalism under my belt, i am back in the studio and already brewing myself a second pot of coffee. thank god for wondrous hazelnut and oil paint. my 'grey girls' are coming along so nicely. i must be on the 14th layer of paint by now. still nowhere near being done but having a ton of fun working on it and re-learning so much. it's a painting that i feel gratitude toward. and my second 'maids' painting is going pretty well too... i think i'll start number 3 later today and really jump in to this series with both feet. i'm just too excited about it not to. i printed out a picture of 'Lineage' and tacked it up in my little studio and have felt so much better ever since. i really do love that painting. :) but she deserves to be out in the world and given the chance to work her magic.
Apr 10, 2009
art and wine...
good morning! i've been working on the new maid portrait since about 6:30 and my painting arm is a little tired. :) but i'll suffer through it. i'm really exited about creating a new body of work around this image. and there are a lot of things coming up this summer that i need to be prepared for (more about that later) so i've really gotta pick up the pace on my production... at least as much as my process will allow without becoming a one-woman art-factory. i'm just having so much fun in my little studio lately. my canvasses are last thing i think about at night when i crawl in to bed and the very first thing on my mind when i wake up. i'm on the right track and it's nice.
and speaking of nice... i had such a wonderful time at the wine-tastings we went to yesterday! we went to three different wineries, drank chardonnay out of the tanks, ate strong cheese, and were pretty giggly by the end of it. it was wonderful and i had so much fun! the only down side to drinking wine in the middle of the day though is that by 4:30 in the afternoon i was so drained and tired that i wasn't good for much for the rest of the evening. but magically, i have not even a hint of a headache and was awake and ready for the day at 5:30 this morning. if you find yourself out and about in wine-country, go to the tastings. and a special thanks to Lin at Venge for showing us such hospitality and being so generous and sweet. :)
and speaking of nice... i had such a wonderful time at the wine-tastings we went to yesterday! we went to three different wineries, drank chardonnay out of the tanks, ate strong cheese, and were pretty giggly by the end of it. it was wonderful and i had so much fun! the only down side to drinking wine in the middle of the day though is that by 4:30 in the afternoon i was so drained and tired that i wasn't good for much for the rest of the evening. but magically, i have not even a hint of a headache and was awake and ready for the day at 5:30 this morning. if you find yourself out and about in wine-country, go to the tastings. and a special thanks to Lin at Venge for showing us such hospitality and being so generous and sweet. :)
Apr 9, 2009
a bit of this, a bit of that...
so for about that last 4 months or so i've been asked, with ever-increasing regularity, if i've got a Facebook account. apparently, MySpace has fallen somewhat out of favor for the adult crowd and Facebook is the preferred way to stay connected to all your college buddies. so, yesterday evening i set up an account and am already completely obsessed by it- my new shiny toy to break. just the way it goes for me. i've already checked it today and am now holding it up as a golden carrot to bribe myself in to getting some work done. aside from the many canvasses in my studio, there's also a sink full of dirty dishes that need to be done and a pile of laundry in the bathroom. we'll see.
later today i'm going to my first ever wine-tasting. i'm so excited! and i don't really even like wine all that much. i've recently acquired a taste for the whites (chardonnay is at the top of my tastiness list) but still no luck with reds. they taste like rancid butter to me. or dirt. plain ol' dirt in a fancy glass. but i hope to get overcome this and develop some adult taste-buds in the near future. again, we'll see.
but for all of you in the san francisco bay area region of the world, tonight is the opening reception for marci washington's solo show at Rena Bransten, Dark Mirror.
i won't be able to make it out to see it until the weekend but if you've got nothing planned, i highly recommend it. marci is not only a super great painter but a huge sweetheart and the gallery she shows with is one of my all-time favorites. the evening will not disappoint.
later today i'm going to my first ever wine-tasting. i'm so excited! and i don't really even like wine all that much. i've recently acquired a taste for the whites (chardonnay is at the top of my tastiness list) but still no luck with reds. they taste like rancid butter to me. or dirt. plain ol' dirt in a fancy glass. but i hope to get overcome this and develop some adult taste-buds in the near future. again, we'll see.
but for all of you in the san francisco bay area region of the world, tonight is the opening reception for marci washington's solo show at Rena Bransten, Dark Mirror.
i won't be able to make it out to see it until the weekend but if you've got nothing planned, i highly recommend it. marci is not only a super great painter but a huge sweetheart and the gallery she shows with is one of my all-time favorites. the evening will not disappoint.
Apr 8, 2009
clockwise...
i started a new 'maids' portrait last night. i miss my ladies too much. i rushed to the studio this morning- scrubbing paint in to the canvas by 6am. i feel happy again. not lonely, not needing, not anything other than complete. i think this is the new series of paintings i've been waiting for, been trying to hunt down amid all the false starts. there's just something in this work - in particular - that i am drawn to in a way that's hard to explain... an acceptance of, a wrestling with, history... my history, my mother's and grandmother's history... that is cleansing somehow... unexpectedly calming. i guess that's the magic of learning your lineage.
and so for the last 4 hours, i've been at work. i'm giving the canvas a rest now and myself too.
i forgot to post a poem for National Poetry Month yesterday but i suppose that's alright. there is such a thing as too much poetry, i suppose, and it's definitely not something i want to sour myself on. for me, poetry has always followed certain moods, certain shifts in the light... it's not an everyday thing. and the last thing i'd want is to make poetry seem 'everyday'. nevertheless, i'm glad there is a national poetry month and i do intend to take advantage of it. :) on that note, i'll be brave again today and share one of my own that i've been working on. it might be finished, it might not be. it's so hard to tell. and as always, critique is more than welcome: i've got strong shoulders. :)
clockwise, counting...
she goes clockwise,
messy hair and
stained everything.
she doesn't keep up with the housework like she should,
going clockwise and all.
she keeps turning around.
something in the corner is scaring her.
there's a man saying her name.
she sticks her head under the couch.
clockwise, she is counting
her found quarters.
a man says her name.
she turns around.
there's something in that corner,
counting
she goes clockwise.
-angela simione, 2009
and so for the last 4 hours, i've been at work. i'm giving the canvas a rest now and myself too.
i forgot to post a poem for National Poetry Month yesterday but i suppose that's alright. there is such a thing as too much poetry, i suppose, and it's definitely not something i want to sour myself on. for me, poetry has always followed certain moods, certain shifts in the light... it's not an everyday thing. and the last thing i'd want is to make poetry seem 'everyday'. nevertheless, i'm glad there is a national poetry month and i do intend to take advantage of it. :) on that note, i'll be brave again today and share one of my own that i've been working on. it might be finished, it might not be. it's so hard to tell. and as always, critique is more than welcome: i've got strong shoulders. :)
clockwise, counting...
she goes clockwise,
messy hair and
stained everything.
she doesn't keep up with the housework like she should,
going clockwise and all.
she keeps turning around.
something in the corner is scaring her.
there's a man saying her name.
she sticks her head under the couch.
clockwise, she is counting
her found quarters.
a man says her name.
she turns around.
there's something in that corner,
counting
she goes clockwise.
-angela simione, 2009
Apr 7, 2009
good morning!
the work week is off to a wonderful start. wonderful! bringing that old painting of mine in to my studio yesterday was exactly what i needed. i'm wrestling with a monster of a canvas right now which i have lovingly nic-named 'the grey girls'. i've been working on it for about 2 hours already today and am hoping that i can keep my stamina up for a few more before i move on to something else. with so much in the works right now, some days it's hard to know where to begin, what project to pick up first, and what to do once i figure it out. the past two days, however, have been absolutely great- welcoming the many opportunities for exploration really gave me a break from the pressure to be some sort of art bad-ass. blah. what the hell kind of goal is that anyway? ha! lame!
Apr 6, 2009
lunch break...
over a big ol' bowl of vegetable soup, i found the poem for the day. short and sweet and to the point... and damn brilliant, if i may say.
T: Karla Faye Tucker
Karla died a little death
each time her pickaxe fell.
All that coming made her deaf;
she'd killed and & her fill.
A Texas warden took her in
(the mug-shot turned out nice).
Karla Faye got born again
to give her life back twice.
-Jennifer Colin Scaife
T: Karla Faye Tucker
Karla died a little death
each time her pickaxe fell.
All that coming made her deaf;
she'd killed and & her fill.
A Texas warden took her in
(the mug-shot turned out nice).
Karla Faye got born again
to give her life back twice.
-Jennifer Colin Scaife
re-visiting...
sometimes it helps to go back to the beginning... when you were naive and didn't know it. there was something special in those days, in that approach. something valuable and worth reaching back to.
i brought an older painting of mine back in to the studio to keep me company and remind me to slow down- to pay attention, to approach the canvas with a greater sense of wonder, to not kid myself that i've got an unbreakable handle on this whole painting thing and to explore...
roman 1
10" x 10"
oil on canvas, 2006
when i made this painting, i moved hesitantly yes, but there was also a level of fearlessness because i knew the greater possibility was that i'd screw up. i felt no pressure to aspire to anything other than learning. and the goal of learning should never leave an artist of any kind.
with this little boy hanging on the wall next to my 'in-progress' canvasses, i am moving slowly today; thoughtfully... appreciatively. and reminding myself also that...
nathan coley
...just hard work and a refusal to stop trying.
i brought an older painting of mine back in to the studio to keep me company and remind me to slow down- to pay attention, to approach the canvas with a greater sense of wonder, to not kid myself that i've got an unbreakable handle on this whole painting thing and to explore...
roman 1
10" x 10"
oil on canvas, 2006
when i made this painting, i moved hesitantly yes, but there was also a level of fearlessness because i knew the greater possibility was that i'd screw up. i felt no pressure to aspire to anything other than learning. and the goal of learning should never leave an artist of any kind.
with this little boy hanging on the wall next to my 'in-progress' canvasses, i am moving slowly today; thoughtfully... appreciatively. and reminding myself also that...
nathan coley
...just hard work and a refusal to stop trying.
Apr 5, 2009
memory-lane...
today, i picked up a collection of poems i haven't leafed through in close to ten years. it had been my constant companion during those shy and awkward days of big dreams when i was 17. i had dog-eared 1/3rd of the pages... poems that had struck my heart apparently... and so i give you one of those and to myself aswell. i think i'll curl up again with this collection after dinner and wine at the neighbor's house.
Calm Under Fire
for Ted
We die in different directions
At the same pace we die
As the virtue of structure and grace
As a challenge to distance
We die, you and I, with our hands
Outreached, by chance, one night each
Toward the other. In a corner
In a cellar. With jars and webs,
A continent apart, we die
As submission to an unfinished heart.
-Jim Carroll
from Fear of Dreaming
Calm Under Fire
for Ted
We die in different directions
At the same pace we die
As the virtue of structure and grace
As a challenge to distance
We die, you and I, with our hands
Outreached, by chance, one night each
Toward the other. In a corner
In a cellar. With jars and webs,
A continent apart, we die
As submission to an unfinished heart.
-Jim Carroll
from Fear of Dreaming
Apr 4, 2009
while cat stevens sang from the car stereo...
on our drive home from dropping off all my unnecessary lovelies at the goodwill, we saw an abortion protest outside a clinic. i've never actually seen one before. it took me a minute to realize what was happening but, once i did, it made me want to throw up on myself. i was honestly shocked. i mean, why not just wave around a banner that says "i'm full of hate". these are the people that the bumper sticker "jesus loves you but everyone else thinks you're an asshole" was made for. they don't seem to be aware of the fact that they aren't helping their cause, they're hurting it with this massive public display of ridicule and damning judgement. i was absolutely stunned that this kind of crap is still happening. stunned. it's so mean-spirited, unhelpful, and malicious.
when we finally got in the door of our home i opened, again, my much-loved and well-used Ariel, looking for something that would comfort me or offer some small kernel of hard-won insight. nothing much to do with abortion, or any big issue in particular, but the uneven ideals held by a mother and a daughter.
The Rival
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected.
And your first gift is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.
The moon, too, abases her subjects,
But in the daytime she is ridiculous.
Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,
Arrive in the mailslot with loving regularity,
White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.
No day is safe from news of you,
Walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.
-Sylvia Plath
i guess sometimes we are all strangers... and don't understand how to do anything other than hurt and sabotage each other. still, i hope there is hope. hope is absolutely necessary. and there is hope, even if only a little, in this poem.
when we finally got in the door of our home i opened, again, my much-loved and well-used Ariel, looking for something that would comfort me or offer some small kernel of hard-won insight. nothing much to do with abortion, or any big issue in particular, but the uneven ideals held by a mother and a daughter.
The Rival
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected.
And your first gift is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.
The moon, too, abases her subjects,
But in the daytime she is ridiculous.
Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,
Arrive in the mailslot with loving regularity,
White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.
No day is safe from news of you,
Walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.
-Sylvia Plath
i guess sometimes we are all strangers... and don't understand how to do anything other than hurt and sabotage each other. still, i hope there is hope. hope is absolutely necessary. and there is hope, even if only a little, in this poem.
ahhhhh saturday....
slept in til 9am. i'm still waist deep in my coffee pot and feel no pressure of any kind about any thing. :) my day wide-open ahead of me.
yesterday, i painted until about 1 o'clock when a rejection letter landed in my mail box. my confidence for painting completely shattered even though i knew getting in to this particular residency was a long shot. in spite of KNOWING i'd get a big, fat NO i still felt crumpled and it stung pretty bad. so i crocheted and embroidered for the rest of the day after that. but now, with about 12 hours of sleep under my belt and all sorts of loony dreams this morning, i feel good and have shaken the rejection off. it happens. it happens to all of us. it happens to the best of us. it happens to the big dogs. i'm lucky that at this early stage in my career, i've actually managed to get pretty far and have managed to build a pretty solid armour when it comes to judgement and critique. i know it isn't personal and, even though it definitely sucks, a rejection letter doesn't mean a damn thing when i look at the bigger picture. i'll try again next year, and every year, until i get in. this is just part of the path and i am more than eager to pay my dues. today, i am happy and light and full of gladness and not at all afraid. there's errands to run, groceries to pack in to the cabinets and fridge, a dog to walk, and a man to kiss. there's the paintings in my studio and poems to chase out of my notebook and row after row of crochet to hike across. there's dishes to be done and hair that needs to be braided and needles to push in and out. there's an entire life to look at, an entire day to tend to, postcards to send out and the land to consider:
angela simione, 2009
i will pick a poem for the day later once i've been out in the world a bit. stay tuned. in the mean time, welcome back the Radish King.
yesterday, i painted until about 1 o'clock when a rejection letter landed in my mail box. my confidence for painting completely shattered even though i knew getting in to this particular residency was a long shot. in spite of KNOWING i'd get a big, fat NO i still felt crumpled and it stung pretty bad. so i crocheted and embroidered for the rest of the day after that. but now, with about 12 hours of sleep under my belt and all sorts of loony dreams this morning, i feel good and have shaken the rejection off. it happens. it happens to all of us. it happens to the best of us. it happens to the big dogs. i'm lucky that at this early stage in my career, i've actually managed to get pretty far and have managed to build a pretty solid armour when it comes to judgement and critique. i know it isn't personal and, even though it definitely sucks, a rejection letter doesn't mean a damn thing when i look at the bigger picture. i'll try again next year, and every year, until i get in. this is just part of the path and i am more than eager to pay my dues. today, i am happy and light and full of gladness and not at all afraid. there's errands to run, groceries to pack in to the cabinets and fridge, a dog to walk, and a man to kiss. there's the paintings in my studio and poems to chase out of my notebook and row after row of crochet to hike across. there's dishes to be done and hair that needs to be braided and needles to push in and out. there's an entire life to look at, an entire day to tend to, postcards to send out and the land to consider:
angela simione, 2009
i will pick a poem for the day later once i've been out in the world a bit. stay tuned. in the mean time, welcome back the Radish King.
Apr 3, 2009
work, work, work...
good morning everybody- it's friday! yay! and the thing that's greatest about fridays is that i know i'll be able to sleep in a bit tomorrow morning.
i made it to bed much later than i usually do last night due to the First Thursday openings in the city. i took my neighbor julie with me (she's never been) and it was the last First Thursday celebration that one of the two venues my gallery occupies is participating in. the doors will close at the 556 Sutter Street space at the end of the month. :( the economy has hit the art-world hard and so, rolling with the hit, we are consolidating in to one gallery space. it is sad, sad, sad but we are so much better off than a lot of other SF galleries. we are very, very lucky. better to beat it to the punch and close one set of doors than risk closing both.
but i still got up on time this morning and will spend my day painting. LOOKING at art always puts me in the mood to MAKE art. it's always been a top priority to do what i can to ensure that the work i give my gallery is the best i can do. it's become even more important to offer my best to the art-loving public in light of what has come to pass during the last year. and it doesn't hurt that i've been on quite the painting kick lately anyway.
so on that note and without further ado, here's your poem for today- work with eager discipline and pleasure today, guys: it's your last opportunity before the languid pull of the weekend.
Afternoon on a Hill
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one!
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!
- edna st. vincent millay
i made it to bed much later than i usually do last night due to the First Thursday openings in the city. i took my neighbor julie with me (she's never been) and it was the last First Thursday celebration that one of the two venues my gallery occupies is participating in. the doors will close at the 556 Sutter Street space at the end of the month. :( the economy has hit the art-world hard and so, rolling with the hit, we are consolidating in to one gallery space. it is sad, sad, sad but we are so much better off than a lot of other SF galleries. we are very, very lucky. better to beat it to the punch and close one set of doors than risk closing both.
but i still got up on time this morning and will spend my day painting. LOOKING at art always puts me in the mood to MAKE art. it's always been a top priority to do what i can to ensure that the work i give my gallery is the best i can do. it's become even more important to offer my best to the art-loving public in light of what has come to pass during the last year. and it doesn't hurt that i've been on quite the painting kick lately anyway.
so on that note and without further ado, here's your poem for today- work with eager discipline and pleasure today, guys: it's your last opportunity before the languid pull of the weekend.
Afternoon on a Hill
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one!
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!
- edna st. vincent millay
Apr 2, 2009
out-put
6:30- the sky is just beginning to lighten. i've been up for an hour and still firmly committed to drinking more coffee. last night, after my sweetheart feel asleep, i got out of bed to read Ariel in the bathroom (i should buy one of those reading night light thingamajigs). i missed a much needed hour of a sleep as a result but it was a necessity. and this morning, as i drank my first cup of coffee and wrote in my notebook, a poem came tumbling right out. and being that it is the 2nd day of National Poetry Month and i'm still sleepy enough to feel a bit nonchalant, i will let this little bird out of it's cage. i'll work on it for the rest of the month and re-post it along the way. critique is always welcome. :)
April Poem
with rounded edges, it settles,
curling in my quilts. this new year
not so shiny now.
i must do the dishes today.
i must put them away.
i must move a bit.
i must wash my hair.
i have no clue what to wear:
my sterling gone out
to find it's black dress-
i am home alone again.
with rounded edges, now,
i must move a bit,
lick a stamp and send something
out.
-angela simione, 2009
feel free to post your favorite poems or your own work in the comments section all month long.
April Poem
with rounded edges, it settles,
curling in my quilts. this new year
not so shiny now.
i must do the dishes today.
i must put them away.
i must move a bit.
i must wash my hair.
i have no clue what to wear:
my sterling gone out
to find it's black dress-
i am home alone again.
with rounded edges, now,
i must move a bit,
lick a stamp and send something
out.
-angela simione, 2009
feel free to post your favorite poems or your own work in the comments section all month long.
Apr 1, 2009
POETRY bitches!
in addition to being my friends' pete and jeanne's wedding anniversary (no joke), april fool's day is also the first day of national poetry month. yay poetry! an entire month where you have every right to make excuses to read poetry, write poetry, make jokes about poets, shamelessly showcase your vocabulary and just be a big ol' poetry-loving, pompous fuck! ha! nice! so in honor of national poetry month, i've started a new banner which i'll be submitting to the Free Verse project at Poets.org and you should too. why not! it sounds pretty fun! i'll post pics as soon as i get it wrapped up.
i'll also be presenting some of my favorite poems this month too so prepare yourself for the onslaught kids! the one i picked for today seems a fitting way to kick this shit off. enjoy!
THE SUICIDE
The street coughs blood
in a linen handkerchief,
as I strut down to the river,
where the oil ships, black bars of soap,
float upright on steel spines.
The wharf has a tight, deep vagina of water
and I'm going to fuck it until it novas,
just to let everybody see
how i cut through life like a diamond
in a sack of glass, with no regrets,
and a what's it to you
to shove up your ass.
-Ai
feel free to post your favorites in the comments section all month long! happy poetry month everyone!
i'll also be presenting some of my favorite poems this month too so prepare yourself for the onslaught kids! the one i picked for today seems a fitting way to kick this shit off. enjoy!
THE SUICIDE
The street coughs blood
in a linen handkerchief,
as I strut down to the river,
where the oil ships, black bars of soap,
float upright on steel spines.
The wharf has a tight, deep vagina of water
and I'm going to fuck it until it novas,
just to let everybody see
how i cut through life like a diamond
in a sack of glass, with no regrets,
and a what's it to you
to shove up your ass.
-Ai
feel free to post your favorites in the comments section all month long! happy poetry month everyone!
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