the sky is white and grey. it feels very close.
down low. close to the ground.
like a shamed dog.
i bought a bag of frozen blueberries and also Jiffy blueberry muffin mix. i saw the box and it reminded me of my mother- my mother when i was 5 or 6 years old, giving me the mixing spoon to lick, and me always dreaming so many dreams every single day.
i am reading Jean Genet's The Thief's Journal and, though i am only on page 42, i have already fallen in love with this man. something in his tempo... his temperament, the pacing of his words, his choices, carries an echo back to me. an echo i can't yet place. remnants of old dreams or memories or some kind of low, sad wish that has followed me in the decades since i was the sweet 5 or 6 years old girl. i did in fact wait for the first star every night. i made so many wishes. when i die, it will be interesting to go to wherever they are written down and learn them all again.
all these years later: blueberry muffins baking in my oven. i lick the mixing spoon clean. and the mixing bowl too. i can smell my little yellow darlings rising.
the day drizzles.
did you know tomorrow, we install the show? :) i am deeply myself in this moment, waiting to hang paintings on white walls.
Oct 29, 2010
i have yellow rubber rain boots.
cats and dogs cats and dogs coming down down down. too dark too cold for me to run on the street. a car will get me. i did a goofy tv workout instead. sweat on the living room floor. now tea and honey. now i see we are out of blueberries. i want oatmeal. i must venture out after all. i want the frozen blueberries in the white bag in the freezer at the market. where are my jeans and my holey sweater?
Oct 28, 2010
Oct 27, 2010
the first of many...
i've been carving and printing all day! :)
for the passed several months, i've been thinking more and more about art and access... how to make collecting art more affordable and inclusive. i've been thinking about girls (and boys) like me who love art more than anything and seek opportunities to support artists however we can, but simply don't have a ton of money to do so. and i've been thinking about how often i wish i could purchase something from an artist i love but can't because i definitely cannot afford to buy a massive oil painting right now. and so i've been trying to come up with ways to make the acquisition of art a greater possibility for a greater number of people, because i know i am not in the minority when it comes to not having a lot of extra money every month. but i still want to collect art and i still want to show my support for artists and writers i admire, and i don't think i'm in the minority when it comes to that desire either. and also because i grew up pretty poor i feel compelled to at least try to make art more accessible for everyone. printmaking is the best form for getting art out in to the world and in to the hands of people who need it and keeping the cost down.
and so i started small... 11" x 7 1/2" small, to be exact. :)
this little doll is a hand-carved woodcut print, pulled by hand, printed in black water-soluble woodblock ink on Rives BFK. she is based on my favorite doll in my collection (yep, i collect creepy old dolls. ha!). the blush in her cheeks and her eye lashes are added by hand after the ink is dry. this is an untitled open edition (which keeps the cost way down) and each print is signed and dated on the front. and because they are all printed by hand, each doll comes out a little bit differently. :) beautiful.
$20 for the print and $5 to ship.
for the passed several months, i've been thinking more and more about art and access... how to make collecting art more affordable and inclusive. i've been thinking about girls (and boys) like me who love art more than anything and seek opportunities to support artists however we can, but simply don't have a ton of money to do so. and i've been thinking about how often i wish i could purchase something from an artist i love but can't because i definitely cannot afford to buy a massive oil painting right now. and so i've been trying to come up with ways to make the acquisition of art a greater possibility for a greater number of people, because i know i am not in the minority when it comes to not having a lot of extra money every month. but i still want to collect art and i still want to show my support for artists and writers i admire, and i don't think i'm in the minority when it comes to that desire either. and also because i grew up pretty poor i feel compelled to at least try to make art more accessible for everyone. printmaking is the best form for getting art out in to the world and in to the hands of people who need it and keeping the cost down.
and so i started small... 11" x 7 1/2" small, to be exact. :)
this little doll is a hand-carved woodcut print, pulled by hand, printed in black water-soluble woodblock ink on Rives BFK. she is based on my favorite doll in my collection (yep, i collect creepy old dolls. ha!). the blush in her cheeks and her eye lashes are added by hand after the ink is dry. this is an untitled open edition (which keeps the cost way down) and each print is signed and dated on the front. and because they are all printed by hand, each doll comes out a little bit differently. :) beautiful.
$20 for the print and $5 to ship.
Oct 26, 2010
tuesday morning art and politics with William Kentridge and Riot Grrl
William Kentridge: charcoal and torn paper and opera... the man is amazing. i fell in love with his work, with his mind, the very first time i saw it. i am lucky that my first experience with his work was in the flesh, face to face at LACMA. i was 20 at the time, i think. my mother and i decided to drive out to LA and see what was going on one day, completely spur of the moment, and that's when i learned of William Kentridge. immediately, i was at home with his images and aesthetic. i was working primarily in charcoal at the time. black charcoal and white acrylic together on a page- ghostly swirls of grey. and the second i saw Kentridge's work, i looked at my mom and said: SEE! someone else who loves charcoal! art can be made this way, it doesn't have to be oil paint! i was so excited! overjoyed! and then when my friend Daniela and i accidentily stumbled across his show in San Francisco when she was up here visiting a few months ago. gorgeous etchings based on Gogol's short-story The Nose.
over the weekend i watched the new Art:21 documentary about his current work and he seems like such a playful man. seeing his work is an experience that i can only really describe as Home Coming and it's so heart-warming to watch him in the studio. in the documentary, he speaks briefly about "the seriousness of play" and it reminds me of what poet Rebecca Loudon stresses- finding the site of deep play and there is where the poetry grows. and then later in the film, he says (and i am paraphrasing), "my life and work changed when i started seeing the world as Process rather than Fact". something about that statement hit me so hard. in the face, in the heart. it is still hitting me hard. it's so damn smart it makes my head spin. and i try to catch it so that i can hold it, apply it, trust it, such a brilliant tool! and of course, when i think i've managed to catch it i lose it again. isn't that always the way. ha! but there is something in that statement that is so inviting, so opposite what dominant american culture espouses... process rather than product. the Means rather than the End. a life's work, always UP UP UP. not climbing in the hopes of finding a pleasing plateau, but climbing because that is the job... to climb. and i know this is all romantic and beautiful and so i run to it as fast as i can! these kinds of ideas are so attractive to me. the idealist in me flings her arms wide open to embrace all this beauty of thought and action. my americanism snaps me back and squeezes my face, forces me to look at the goals that are permissible for me to have, the desires i am supposed to chase. the money plateau. green and leisurely. and then just sit there, just coast, do nothing but spend...
it is uncomfortable and lonely to be Outside but i must be Outside. i must remain Outside. in my sketch book, i have a quote written and i have no clue who said it but here it is: Becoming aware of your power to make choices and not go with the status quo is a huge first step.
last night before bed i read Joanne Gottlieb's and Gayle Wald's essay "Smells Like Teen Spirit: Riot Grrls, Revolution and Women in Independent Rock" about zines and music, power, how girls can create their own agency by resisting the cultural allure to stay inside, stay quiet, sit down, and continue the practice of minimization and silence within themselves... that something as seemingly simple as making a zine or t-shirt or stitching your own scarf is an act of resistance to the Status Quo... a dominant culture that still, right now, prefers everyone to fall in line, do what they're told, and do not make waves. this is definitely still the case. and right now, with all the economic worry and hardship and fear, i think it's an even scary proposition i'm making to ask myself (or anyone else) to ignore the status quo, basically forgo safety and security, in order to establish a bit of freedom for myself; a bit of agency, a bit of happiness. but look where the Status Quo got us! i mean... come on! the president cannot do a damn thing about individual levels of greed and feelings of entitlement. he just can't. that's my job and that's your job. it comes down to not only a re-evaluation of what we hold dear culturally, but also individually within our own homes and families. i simply cannot fall in line with the practices that led us to this place of completely unethical levels of spending and wanting and grabbing and enslaving others to our desire to collect as many status symbols as possible. i just can't do it. and ofcourse the temptation is there. it always will be. yes, money is a necessity in this era... but does the necessity of money mean it must be worshipped as a God?
in the William Kentridge documentary he relays a funny story about a friend of his who basically made fun of him for always trying to figure out what he should do, like, for a job. ha! and the friend told him, look, you're 28 and you're unemplyable. no one is going to give you a job. so stop arguing with your trajectory. success or failure, you're an artist. that's when William Kentridge decided to say fuck it and just be himself.
and so i had a hard time falling asleep because i was so excited and encouraged by the film and by what i had just read, but also a bit afraid. it's hard not to feel afraid once realizing that i am completely in control of my own life and it's really just a matter of what i'm willing to put myself through in order to build a life that feels right for me and is respectful of who i am. this comes back to what Kentridge said about seeing the world as Process rather than Fact: that the world is malleable, changeable, able to shift. and so i must somehow become ready to make a shift as well. it is the world in me that must change first. my body and all that it contains. my perceptions must shift. i must identify them as process, not as fact, and establish my agnecy through acts of art-making and writing and crocheting my own sweaters and running along the highway regardless of the perceptions of others. and somehow i must become okay with all this... to stop worrying about whether or not anyone understands what i'm doing and why it is relevant.
over the weekend i watched the new Art:21 documentary about his current work and he seems like such a playful man. seeing his work is an experience that i can only really describe as Home Coming and it's so heart-warming to watch him in the studio. in the documentary, he speaks briefly about "the seriousness of play" and it reminds me of what poet Rebecca Loudon stresses- finding the site of deep play and there is where the poetry grows. and then later in the film, he says (and i am paraphrasing), "my life and work changed when i started seeing the world as Process rather than Fact". something about that statement hit me so hard. in the face, in the heart. it is still hitting me hard. it's so damn smart it makes my head spin. and i try to catch it so that i can hold it, apply it, trust it, such a brilliant tool! and of course, when i think i've managed to catch it i lose it again. isn't that always the way. ha! but there is something in that statement that is so inviting, so opposite what dominant american culture espouses... process rather than product. the Means rather than the End. a life's work, always UP UP UP. not climbing in the hopes of finding a pleasing plateau, but climbing because that is the job... to climb. and i know this is all romantic and beautiful and so i run to it as fast as i can! these kinds of ideas are so attractive to me. the idealist in me flings her arms wide open to embrace all this beauty of thought and action. my americanism snaps me back and squeezes my face, forces me to look at the goals that are permissible for me to have, the desires i am supposed to chase. the money plateau. green and leisurely. and then just sit there, just coast, do nothing but spend...
it is uncomfortable and lonely to be Outside but i must be Outside. i must remain Outside. in my sketch book, i have a quote written and i have no clue who said it but here it is: Becoming aware of your power to make choices and not go with the status quo is a huge first step.
last night before bed i read Joanne Gottlieb's and Gayle Wald's essay "Smells Like Teen Spirit: Riot Grrls, Revolution and Women in Independent Rock" about zines and music, power, how girls can create their own agency by resisting the cultural allure to stay inside, stay quiet, sit down, and continue the practice of minimization and silence within themselves... that something as seemingly simple as making a zine or t-shirt or stitching your own scarf is an act of resistance to the Status Quo... a dominant culture that still, right now, prefers everyone to fall in line, do what they're told, and do not make waves. this is definitely still the case. and right now, with all the economic worry and hardship and fear, i think it's an even scary proposition i'm making to ask myself (or anyone else) to ignore the status quo, basically forgo safety and security, in order to establish a bit of freedom for myself; a bit of agency, a bit of happiness. but look where the Status Quo got us! i mean... come on! the president cannot do a damn thing about individual levels of greed and feelings of entitlement. he just can't. that's my job and that's your job. it comes down to not only a re-evaluation of what we hold dear culturally, but also individually within our own homes and families. i simply cannot fall in line with the practices that led us to this place of completely unethical levels of spending and wanting and grabbing and enslaving others to our desire to collect as many status symbols as possible. i just can't do it. and ofcourse the temptation is there. it always will be. yes, money is a necessity in this era... but does the necessity of money mean it must be worshipped as a God?
in the William Kentridge documentary he relays a funny story about a friend of his who basically made fun of him for always trying to figure out what he should do, like, for a job. ha! and the friend told him, look, you're 28 and you're unemplyable. no one is going to give you a job. so stop arguing with your trajectory. success or failure, you're an artist. that's when William Kentridge decided to say fuck it and just be himself.
and so i had a hard time falling asleep because i was so excited and encouraged by the film and by what i had just read, but also a bit afraid. it's hard not to feel afraid once realizing that i am completely in control of my own life and it's really just a matter of what i'm willing to put myself through in order to build a life that feels right for me and is respectful of who i am. this comes back to what Kentridge said about seeing the world as Process rather than Fact: that the world is malleable, changeable, able to shift. and so i must somehow become ready to make a shift as well. it is the world in me that must change first. my body and all that it contains. my perceptions must shift. i must identify them as process, not as fact, and establish my agnecy through acts of art-making and writing and crocheting my own sweaters and running along the highway regardless of the perceptions of others. and somehow i must become okay with all this... to stop worrying about whether or not anyone understands what i'm doing and why it is relevant.
Oct 25, 2010
painting candles and reading Simone Weil
.
the physical element by which sight is made possible: light.
she says: Love is not consolation, it is light. (p. 59)
to love is to see.
and to see clearly. plainly even.
no disruptions, to desires, no figments, no fantasy, no lies: to see something as it actually is without the governance of desire or protocol, without imposition, alliances, biases, expectations... without silencing
or dulling the color.
light:
we find the shape, the texture, the angle. the light does not promise we will like what we see. the light does not promise pleasantries. the light does not speak of "likability" and "pleasurability". the light says nothing about preferences.
Love is not consolation... and so love is not about satisfying preferences.
...it is light a new lens given, love is the ability to see reality: unmisted, unobstructed.
the physical element by which sight is made possible: light.
she says: Love is not consolation, it is light. (p. 59)
to love is to see.
and to see clearly. plainly even.
no disruptions, to desires, no figments, no fantasy, no lies: to see something as it actually is without the governance of desire or protocol, without imposition, alliances, biases, expectations... without silencing
or dulling the color.
light:
we find the shape, the texture, the angle. the light does not promise we will like what we see. the light does not promise pleasantries. the light does not speak of "likability" and "pleasurability". the light says nothing about preferences.
Love is not consolation... and so love is not about satisfying preferences.
...it is light a new lens given, love is the ability to see reality: unmisted, unobstructed.
Oct 24, 2010
it has been raining all weekend. i have been worrying too much as a result and spent a bit of time crying and feeling pitiful. i am worried for more reasons than merely the rain.
we talked about moths and mortality and how they do not carry malt-o-meal in tennessee, only cream-of-wheat, and now there is a note on my refrigerator admonishing me to buy malt-o-meal the next time i go to the grocery store. i will put it in a box with some paper moth ornaments i made and ship it off to the Hog and Hominy State (or Volunteer State, if you are a purest). and i was given a passage from psalms for which i extended a passage of Simone Weil's Gravity & Grace... which was very much an act of mirroring. and emotional but very good. necessary... like a window. prayers floating in from the wide, wet world. bits of light, whiffs of home.
this is how i think of moths. i began printing some more after i got off the phone. there is a necessity in the image, in repeating it... like a favorite phrase of music: a hint of what ascension feels like.
we talked about moths and mortality and how they do not carry malt-o-meal in tennessee, only cream-of-wheat, and now there is a note on my refrigerator admonishing me to buy malt-o-meal the next time i go to the grocery store. i will put it in a box with some paper moth ornaments i made and ship it off to the Hog and Hominy State (or Volunteer State, if you are a purest). and i was given a passage from psalms for which i extended a passage of Simone Weil's Gravity & Grace... which was very much an act of mirroring. and emotional but very good. necessary... like a window. prayers floating in from the wide, wet world. bits of light, whiffs of home.
this is how i think of moths. i began printing some more after i got off the phone. there is a necessity in the image, in repeating it... like a favorite phrase of music: a hint of what ascension feels like.
Oct 22, 2010
rainy days give you an excuse to be Andy Warhol
i woke to a rainy day. normally, i'd feel a bit sabotaged by that but not today. i instantly welcomed it. there was something unexpectedly beautiful about it. a sort of joyfulness about rain on the roof and windows and blacktop.
a short break in the weather presented itself so i shoved my feet into my running shoes and got going. but midway through the Mighty Run the rain returned, soaking the front of my sweatshirt and pants and turning my swinging ponytail in to a godawful frizzy mess of wet tangles. but it felt good. the cold rain drops on my flushed face, mingling with my sweat, tapping gently at the whites of my eyes was actually very pleasurable. as was the feeling of hey mom, look at me! look at what a total BAD ASS i am, running in the rain like it ain't no thang! :) ha!
and now, with the rain coming down and a roof to hide under and a cup of raspberry tea at my side, i am definitely in the mood to bounce back and forth between my Bedroom Arts: drawing, crocheting, and reading. i had planned to gesso two big canvasses today but that's a project for outside. gesso doesn't come out if you accidentally get it on your couch and don't notice until well after its dry. definitely not an indoor project. can't say that i mind putting it on hold though- a rainy day seems like the perfect way to wind down such a good, productive, busy, happy week.
besides, Andy Warhol insists that you could be doing anything, but if you're doing it in bed... well, it's just that much more glamourous. it's an outlook i tend to agree with. so if the opportunity finds you today to accept a Warholian moment in Bed, take it. luxuriate in the glamour of it. even if it's something as simple as reading a book or folding clothes because watch:
what are you doing?
i'm reading.
vs.
what are you doing?
i'm in bed reading.
see. instant glamour. go with andy. ;)
a short break in the weather presented itself so i shoved my feet into my running shoes and got going. but midway through the Mighty Run the rain returned, soaking the front of my sweatshirt and pants and turning my swinging ponytail in to a godawful frizzy mess of wet tangles. but it felt good. the cold rain drops on my flushed face, mingling with my sweat, tapping gently at the whites of my eyes was actually very pleasurable. as was the feeling of hey mom, look at me! look at what a total BAD ASS i am, running in the rain like it ain't no thang! :) ha!
and now, with the rain coming down and a roof to hide under and a cup of raspberry tea at my side, i am definitely in the mood to bounce back and forth between my Bedroom Arts: drawing, crocheting, and reading. i had planned to gesso two big canvasses today but that's a project for outside. gesso doesn't come out if you accidentally get it on your couch and don't notice until well after its dry. definitely not an indoor project. can't say that i mind putting it on hold though- a rainy day seems like the perfect way to wind down such a good, productive, busy, happy week.
besides, Andy Warhol insists that you could be doing anything, but if you're doing it in bed... well, it's just that much more glamourous. it's an outlook i tend to agree with. so if the opportunity finds you today to accept a Warholian moment in Bed, take it. luxuriate in the glamour of it. even if it's something as simple as reading a book or folding clothes because watch:
what are you doing?
i'm reading.
vs.
what are you doing?
i'm in bed reading.
see. instant glamour. go with andy. ;)
Oct 21, 2010
YAY!!!!!!
yesterday morning, i loaded up the truck with all the big oil paintings and a few of the big drawings and drove out to san francisco to meet up with my friend freya prowe, the artist who came by for a studio visit a few weeks ago.
she, me, launa bacon, meagan donegan, and kimberlee koym have descended upon SLINGSHOT at 890 valencia in san francisco. that's right: A SHOW!!!!! i sang to myself the entire drive down and the entire drive back up. i helped paint the walls and i giggled all day (in spite of getting a parking ticket) and am simply overjoyed to be showing with artists i so admire. if you are in the vicinity, please come by and say hi. the opening reception in november 6th, 6 - 8pm. i'd absolutely love to see you!
and i tell ya: there is absolutely nothing so good for motivation as a show! ha! i am eager to go get lost in some oil and graphite today. :)
she, me, launa bacon, meagan donegan, and kimberlee koym have descended upon SLINGSHOT at 890 valencia in san francisco. that's right: A SHOW!!!!! i sang to myself the entire drive down and the entire drive back up. i helped paint the walls and i giggled all day (in spite of getting a parking ticket) and am simply overjoyed to be showing with artists i so admire. if you are in the vicinity, please come by and say hi. the opening reception in november 6th, 6 - 8pm. i'd absolutely love to see you!
and i tell ya: there is absolutely nothing so good for motivation as a show! ha! i am eager to go get lost in some oil and graphite today. :)
Oct 19, 2010
crutch. cross.
the boxes we've been given.
the boxes we've accepted.
the boxes we've constructed.
i have constructed more than a few horrible boxes for myself, that's for sure. horrible rooms of horrible silence, horrible stillness- the evil twin of what i'm experiencing now. the hateful flip-side of solitude and graciousness. maybe the word would be "abjection"?
in my mind now i can see those horrible boxes i constructed for myself. i can see them with the label ABJECT stencilled across the front in spray-paint and Jasper Johns lettering. though that description makes it seem almost romantic. and maybe there are moments when abjection rubs shoulders with romance? maybe sometimes our pain would be too great, our loneliness too hard to bear, if we did not romanticize it a little. romance provides strength. it makes the world tolerable in intolerable moments.
but i will not climb back in to particular boxes.
i will not accept particular boxes.
i will not construct particular boxes.
i do not want to contain so much pain that i must romanticize my self, my life, my pain, in order to bear it. in order to move even the shortest of distances. i have lived too many years that way.
i am tired of bullshit pain and want the pain that finds me to be real and necessary. not made-up, not unnecessary. and in the in between times, a soft joy. pencil scratches and ink dripping and words to rummage around in. i am learning to appreciate the open air now. feathers and leaves falling. the wind cracking through tall trees. angry squirrels clawing the roots. and such a luscious moon.
the boxes we've accepted.
the boxes we've constructed.
i have constructed more than a few horrible boxes for myself, that's for sure. horrible rooms of horrible silence, horrible stillness- the evil twin of what i'm experiencing now. the hateful flip-side of solitude and graciousness. maybe the word would be "abjection"?
in my mind now i can see those horrible boxes i constructed for myself. i can see them with the label ABJECT stencilled across the front in spray-paint and Jasper Johns lettering. though that description makes it seem almost romantic. and maybe there are moments when abjection rubs shoulders with romance? maybe sometimes our pain would be too great, our loneliness too hard to bear, if we did not romanticize it a little. romance provides strength. it makes the world tolerable in intolerable moments.
but i will not climb back in to particular boxes.
i will not accept particular boxes.
i will not construct particular boxes.
i do not want to contain so much pain that i must romanticize my self, my life, my pain, in order to bear it. in order to move even the shortest of distances. i have lived too many years that way.
i am tired of bullshit pain and want the pain that finds me to be real and necessary. not made-up, not unnecessary. and in the in between times, a soft joy. pencil scratches and ink dripping and words to rummage around in. i am learning to appreciate the open air now. feathers and leaves falling. the wind cracking through tall trees. angry squirrels clawing the roots. and such a luscious moon.
Oct 18, 2010
today:
i had jury duty today and i landed right in the box, right at the very start. i was dismissed at the end of the day and felt mildly sad about it. it was actually really interesting to see the judicial system from the inside... from that particular vantage. it's a rare point of view. i don't know anyone who has actually served as a juror for a trial.
but now, worn out, i'm glad to be home. i didn't get much sleep last night. my non-smoker sleep disturbances are still pretty steep. they should wear off soon i'm told.
i am making myself some tea and then my dog and i are going for a walk. i want to enjoy my freedom to roam about as i please. being in a courtroom all day made me feel the need to get out in to a natural landscape.
but now, worn out, i'm glad to be home. i didn't get much sleep last night. my non-smoker sleep disturbances are still pretty steep. they should wear off soon i'm told.
i am making myself some tea and then my dog and i are going for a walk. i want to enjoy my freedom to roam about as i please. being in a courtroom all day made me feel the need to get out in to a natural landscape.
Oct 15, 2010
GIFT!!!
.
this is my very first zine! YAY! and i want you to have it! all you have to do is click on the above image so that it gets BIG, right click to save it to your computer, adjust contrast if necessary (which it very well may be- my scanner is on the fritz so this is photograph), print it out, follow these instructions, and you have a new zine for your collection! WHOO HOO!!!
this is what it should look like when you're done:
front cover
1st page
back cover
HAPPY FRIDAY!!! :) ENJOY!!!
this is my very first zine! YAY! and i want you to have it! all you have to do is click on the above image so that it gets BIG, right click to save it to your computer, adjust contrast if necessary (which it very well may be- my scanner is on the fritz so this is photograph), print it out, follow these instructions, and you have a new zine for your collection! WHOO HOO!!!
this is what it should look like when you're done:
front cover
1st page
back cover
HAPPY FRIDAY!!! :) ENJOY!!!
confession
it's 4 am and here i am in front of the computer with my mug of irish breakfast tea...
i couldn't sleep.
i've been having trouble staying asleep all week but tonight i couldn't fall back to sleep for the life of me. the reason is that i quit smoking. yep. the entire time you've been reading this blog, you've been reading the innermost thoughts and aspirations of a damn dirty smoker. ;) until the beginning of this week anyway.
it's something i kept quiet about here because i didn't want to inadvertently encourage someone else to take up the habit or somehow praise the addiction itself, romanticize it. and then there's the fact that smokers are subjected to some pretty crass and ruthless judgment from the general public too. strangers feel completely okay about marching right up to some random smoker on the street and alerting that person to how "disgusting" they are. it's insanely rude. insanely. i've always been blown away by the fact people think it's totally alright to behave like that and i really didn't want any of that rage and weirdness happening here on my blog. and also, to be totally honest, it's something i'd become increasingly ashamed of. i was not proud to be a smoker. not in the least. i felt pretty stupid about it actually. i started smoking as a very young teenager. 14 years old. and a dumb decision i made in my adolescence was ruling my adult life. it made me feel like a pathetic asshole, to put it bluntly. and i'm afraid of chemo. i'm afraid of what this could lead to. i feel bad about how negligent i've been in terms of caring for my own life. i feel bad i let so many things get in the way. i feel bad that i willingly traded my opportunities to lead a positive and healthy life to sit down in the muck and bullshit with other people.
i'm amazed at how quickly time has passed and how distracted i've been...
and there are all the reasons, all the events, stacked one on top of the other. the long line of trauma and tragedy and every single hurdle that gets nailed down in front of you. time moves so damn fast when there is always a crisis to attend to.
and then a member of my family gets cancer. and i turn 30. and i realize how damn sad all this is... that i've spent more than half my life (16 years) living under the weight of an addiction, and that i developed an addiction of this magnitude as a child. it made me so profoundly sad. so sad i felt ill. and all i could see was wreckage. the wreckage of a family. everywhere, everywhere. i think i've been trying to grieve us... what has happened, what was lost, who we've become... for a very long time. and maybe that ball is finally starting to roll? all i know is that a year ago, on my 29th birthday, i decided i'd had enough. i decided to take the time NOW to clean up the mess, clear it off my path so that i could at least see where i was standing. i decided it was time to start building a life that felt right for me... no matter how long it might take to build. i decided it was time to take Time for myself.
that's where The Almighty Jog originated. and no alcohol. and then about a year later, The Almighty Jog graduates to The Mighty Run. No Alcohol turns into No Refined Sugar. and since that habit was way easier to kick than i thought it'd be, i thought: fuck it, girl. do it now. right now. it's time. and so i quit smoking.
and this is not my first attempt, but this is the first time i've ever lived a healthy life. between running and drinking tea and not eating sugary foods, it's a lot easier than i remember it being- quitting. A LOT easier. in fact, every day i feel better and better. i guess i was just completely ready to give it up... a horribly stupid and malicious thread of my childhood.
i need it to be GONE.
all this to say: sleep disturbances are a very common withdrawal symptom. :)
good morning!!!!
i couldn't sleep.
i've been having trouble staying asleep all week but tonight i couldn't fall back to sleep for the life of me. the reason is that i quit smoking. yep. the entire time you've been reading this blog, you've been reading the innermost thoughts and aspirations of a damn dirty smoker. ;) until the beginning of this week anyway.
it's something i kept quiet about here because i didn't want to inadvertently encourage someone else to take up the habit or somehow praise the addiction itself, romanticize it. and then there's the fact that smokers are subjected to some pretty crass and ruthless judgment from the general public too. strangers feel completely okay about marching right up to some random smoker on the street and alerting that person to how "disgusting" they are. it's insanely rude. insanely. i've always been blown away by the fact people think it's totally alright to behave like that and i really didn't want any of that rage and weirdness happening here on my blog. and also, to be totally honest, it's something i'd become increasingly ashamed of. i was not proud to be a smoker. not in the least. i felt pretty stupid about it actually. i started smoking as a very young teenager. 14 years old. and a dumb decision i made in my adolescence was ruling my adult life. it made me feel like a pathetic asshole, to put it bluntly. and i'm afraid of chemo. i'm afraid of what this could lead to. i feel bad about how negligent i've been in terms of caring for my own life. i feel bad i let so many things get in the way. i feel bad that i willingly traded my opportunities to lead a positive and healthy life to sit down in the muck and bullshit with other people.
i'm amazed at how quickly time has passed and how distracted i've been...
and there are all the reasons, all the events, stacked one on top of the other. the long line of trauma and tragedy and every single hurdle that gets nailed down in front of you. time moves so damn fast when there is always a crisis to attend to.
and then a member of my family gets cancer. and i turn 30. and i realize how damn sad all this is... that i've spent more than half my life (16 years) living under the weight of an addiction, and that i developed an addiction of this magnitude as a child. it made me so profoundly sad. so sad i felt ill. and all i could see was wreckage. the wreckage of a family. everywhere, everywhere. i think i've been trying to grieve us... what has happened, what was lost, who we've become... for a very long time. and maybe that ball is finally starting to roll? all i know is that a year ago, on my 29th birthday, i decided i'd had enough. i decided to take the time NOW to clean up the mess, clear it off my path so that i could at least see where i was standing. i decided it was time to start building a life that felt right for me... no matter how long it might take to build. i decided it was time to take Time for myself.
that's where The Almighty Jog originated. and no alcohol. and then about a year later, The Almighty Jog graduates to The Mighty Run. No Alcohol turns into No Refined Sugar. and since that habit was way easier to kick than i thought it'd be, i thought: fuck it, girl. do it now. right now. it's time. and so i quit smoking.
and this is not my first attempt, but this is the first time i've ever lived a healthy life. between running and drinking tea and not eating sugary foods, it's a lot easier than i remember it being- quitting. A LOT easier. in fact, every day i feel better and better. i guess i was just completely ready to give it up... a horribly stupid and malicious thread of my childhood.
i need it to be GONE.
all this to say: sleep disturbances are a very common withdrawal symptom. :)
good morning!!!!
Oct 13, 2010
work/life
i've been quiet a lot lately. struggling away, i suppose. wrestling alone. and it is good. a necessity. it is an important stage. i'm lucky to know that. i'm lucky to find a bit of comfort in knowing that.
i've been working. as hard and for as long as i can manage. i'm reading philosophy and not talking back. i am absorbing and watching and making sweaters. i finished the first one and am so happy. the 2nd is well underway.
Simone Weil by my bed and notebook near and plenty of tea, plenty of black oil, plenty of paper and graphite.
and this...
untitled
44" x 50"
oil on canvas, 2010
...finished just a few minutes ago.
i've been working. as hard and for as long as i can manage. i'm reading philosophy and not talking back. i am absorbing and watching and making sweaters. i finished the first one and am so happy. the 2nd is well underway.
Simone Weil by my bed and notebook near and plenty of tea, plenty of black oil, plenty of paper and graphite.
and this...
untitled
44" x 50"
oil on canvas, 2010
...finished just a few minutes ago.
Oct 12, 2010
YAY!
i spent the day yesterday teaching myself how to screen print and i had so much fun! i think i've got the hang of it now but it actually took totally ruining my screen to figure a few things out. so i'll have to buy the toxic chemicals necessary to reclaim the ruined screen and also buy another screen as one simply isn't enough. but, if all goes according to plan, i will be a TOTAL T-SHIRT WHORE soon! i mean, more so than i already am! hahaha!
Oct 8, 2010
testing 1 2 3
working on an artist's statement. working, working, working.
i am a very wordy girl.
...
I am a thief. My practice is an evidence room.
The collections I present are sites that house stolen images, corrupted files, diary entries, favorite books, and family photographs. They are storerooms for the splinters of identity.
One by one, I hold the splinters up. I put them in a line. I shuffle them around. I crop the images, remove the bright colors, and pump up the contrast: I cover my tracks.
And then I allow the flaw of my hand and the imperfection of my eye to have their say. After having stolen, manipulated, and corrupted these images by impersonal digital means, they are finally processed through the body- its urges, desires, fears, pleasures, pains, and past. Digital information undergoes an organic digestion.
In this way, little by little, the ligature of secrecy exposes itself. Little by little, the knot is undone.
But my argument is not rhetorical. Rather it is the building of a heart-felt, insistent, and truthful allegory.
Through the shame-driven act of redaction, a poetics of surprising candor occurs. The collections I present, made up of largely stolen and corrupted individual "evidences", form a thoughtful whole that betray the state of longing itself.
As a thief compelled to act in her own defense, my attempt to hide my crimes exposes my shattered self.
My practice is a piece by piece mapping of the desire for cohesion and stability- the desire for a reckoning.
i am a very wordy girl.
...
I am a thief. My practice is an evidence room.
The collections I present are sites that house stolen images, corrupted files, diary entries, favorite books, and family photographs. They are storerooms for the splinters of identity.
One by one, I hold the splinters up. I put them in a line. I shuffle them around. I crop the images, remove the bright colors, and pump up the contrast: I cover my tracks.
And then I allow the flaw of my hand and the imperfection of my eye to have their say. After having stolen, manipulated, and corrupted these images by impersonal digital means, they are finally processed through the body- its urges, desires, fears, pleasures, pains, and past. Digital information undergoes an organic digestion.
In this way, little by little, the ligature of secrecy exposes itself. Little by little, the knot is undone.
But my argument is not rhetorical. Rather it is the building of a heart-felt, insistent, and truthful allegory.
Through the shame-driven act of redaction, a poetics of surprising candor occurs. The collections I present, made up of largely stolen and corrupted individual "evidences", form a thoughtful whole that betray the state of longing itself.
As a thief compelled to act in her own defense, my attempt to hide my crimes exposes my shattered self.
My practice is a piece by piece mapping of the desire for cohesion and stability- the desire for a reckoning.
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 6, 2010
narrow
i was looking at the bright sky and the bright leaves. i was thinking of my drawings. i was thinking of my sweater, every panel now finished and only needing to be stitched together. i was looking at the bright sky and as i watched the bright leaves flutter passed, i saw how fast i was running. pound pound pound. legs and lungs. legs and heart. pound pound pound. at the intersection i looked both ways. the woman in the car did not. i watched her not look. i lept, one hand punched down hard on the hood of her car as she absent-mindedly began to drive right through me. i was running fast and, like an action movie, lept out of the way and yelled HEY! i looked back over my shoulder and both her hands were raised in that "oops" pose. she mouthed the word so-rry pathetically. i felt a bit insulted by that. the sing-song sorry. and then i instantly felt a bit embarrassed by the anger that swelled in me. i ran faster and faster and got back to that place where the pound pound pound is all that matters. the pain in my legs. heaving chest. sweaty face. can we call it beauty? at least sometimes. at least in the moment. at least when you go as fast as you can and see the bright leaves and see the bright sky and be thankful for the quickness that bolted you over the hood of a car. here in one piece. here, feeling just fine. and deciding that narrow escapes are more beautiful to watch than wide ones. i'm very happy that accident was avoided. :)
Oct 5, 2010
time
fall has arrived. cold mornings. a bit darker for a bit longer. and this yellow light. it is 1:30 in the afternoon and it looks like summer's 5 o'clock. a hard breeze is coming through, sending all the pine needles down like rain. it even sounds like rain. i am wearing a sweater. done painting for the day and ready to curl up with a drawing instead.
philosophy is a necessity
kate durbin's The Simone Weil Fashion Project has reached right out of the computer screen and done something unnameable to my heart. pairing sentences from weil's philosophic/spiritual work with High Fashion photography is a concoction that, at first glance, may seem to dance at the boarders of sacrilege (for lack of a better word), but serves to heighten the power of simone weil's work. this pairing, which seems so odd given the very pious nature of weil's search and writings, highlights in such a violent and gorgeous way one of the main themes in her work. the nature of love.
i have been infected by the project in a very wonderful way. i ordered Gravity and Grace (the book kate is currently culling quotes from) and it arrived yesterday afternoon. i sat on my chilly front stoop with it, not even making it back in doors after finding it in my mailbox. an hour later, i made some chamomile and kept reading. another hour, another hour, another hour. i took notes. i looked up and it was bed time.
it has shaken out of me the first sentence i've been waiting for. the sentence i needed in order to begin my dream essay, The Value of Sadness. it is begun. it could take a very long time to write but it is begun.
the sentence is one of simone's.
"Love is not consolation, it is light."
and i thought about light. the physical element by with sight is made possible. love is sight. seeing. and this says absolutely nothing about liking what we see. that thought was welcome the very second i had it. and kate's project very much illustrates this thought: love, as a mode or way of being/proceeding, having nothing to do with what is preferable or pleasurable to gaze upon. it is acquiring the ability to see things as the actually are, not what desire would oblige them to be. things, people, ideas unclouded by Wants.
these thoughts stick in and refuse to be pulled out. and this is good because i have no urge to pull them out. if anything, i feel like pushing the thorns in deeper. to the origin of my confusion, my pain, my ideas... and see what happens then. what light might be found.
an act of unclouding. shooing the swarm.
i have been infected by the project in a very wonderful way. i ordered Gravity and Grace (the book kate is currently culling quotes from) and it arrived yesterday afternoon. i sat on my chilly front stoop with it, not even making it back in doors after finding it in my mailbox. an hour later, i made some chamomile and kept reading. another hour, another hour, another hour. i took notes. i looked up and it was bed time.
it has shaken out of me the first sentence i've been waiting for. the sentence i needed in order to begin my dream essay, The Value of Sadness. it is begun. it could take a very long time to write but it is begun.
the sentence is one of simone's.
"Love is not consolation, it is light."
and i thought about light. the physical element by with sight is made possible. love is sight. seeing. and this says absolutely nothing about liking what we see. that thought was welcome the very second i had it. and kate's project very much illustrates this thought: love, as a mode or way of being/proceeding, having nothing to do with what is preferable or pleasurable to gaze upon. it is acquiring the ability to see things as the actually are, not what desire would oblige them to be. things, people, ideas unclouded by Wants.
these thoughts stick in and refuse to be pulled out. and this is good because i have no urge to pull them out. if anything, i feel like pushing the thorns in deeper. to the origin of my confusion, my pain, my ideas... and see what happens then. what light might be found.
an act of unclouding. shooing the swarm.
Oct 4, 2010
moday monday monday
a new monday. a new week. and it's hard to believe october is already here. it really does feel like we welcomed the new year just yesterday. this year is a steam train.
still: a new monday, a new week. and i welcome it with my own steam and fire. yesterday, an artist i greatly admire came by my place to look at all the work and make happy plans. i'll have more news on that later, but for now- i can't tell you how absolutely wonderful it is to be in the same room with a person who not only appreciates your aesthetic, but believes in the relevance of it because they are a practitioner of that aesthetic as well. us black and white artist girls are in the definite minority so it was so affirming and happy-making to have another woman in the house who knows exactly where i'm coming from. and we talked about painting and drawing and print-making and the glory of oval canvasses and t-shirts and doubled back over the conversation, looping around happy and giddy, discussing every single art related thing and dream that came up. the hour she was here went by so fast. it was awesome.
still: a new monday, a new week. and i welcome it with my own steam and fire. yesterday, an artist i greatly admire came by my place to look at all the work and make happy plans. i'll have more news on that later, but for now- i can't tell you how absolutely wonderful it is to be in the same room with a person who not only appreciates your aesthetic, but believes in the relevance of it because they are a practitioner of that aesthetic as well. us black and white artist girls are in the definite minority so it was so affirming and happy-making to have another woman in the house who knows exactly where i'm coming from. and we talked about painting and drawing and print-making and the glory of oval canvasses and t-shirts and doubled back over the conversation, looping around happy and giddy, discussing every single art related thing and dream that came up. the hour she was here went by so fast. it was awesome.
Oct 1, 2010
work work
so i'm finally building myself a website. took me long enough, huh? :)
geez.
actually, i built one once but after a few months had passed, i really thought it sucked. i didn't do the best job organizing all the work in to collections and sections and compartments etc etc etc. and i didn't do a whole lot of writing for it either. obviously, i was not in the correct head space for the task at hand. but this time i am and i'm actually kind of excited about it. i mean, the few images of work i've got pinned up over there to the left of this blog really don't give an accurate picture of my practice as a whole. and i absolutely do not expect that anyone should waste their time scrolling through this entire blog trying to discern what my practice is all about. nor should they have to. so i'm organizing all the information, streamlining my online self a bit, and attempting to make things a bit easier for everyone.
and it's really nice to be able to see how the work has progressed through the years. especially the last 2 - 3 years. it's cool seeing my own work broken down in to portfolios. it lets me see the work so much more clearly. and honestly, there's such a wonderful and deep continuity in the work as a whole, spanning several years. i'm actually NOT all over the place! ha! very cool!
there's still a long way to go but i've decided it's best to take it a bit slow and do a good job of it this time around. no rushing. it doesn't need to be finished in a single afternoon. besides, there's still a whole lot that needs to be photographed and i also promised myself i'd clean the house today. ugh. between that and the website and polishing my artist statement and CV, i'd say this day is completely planned out. it'll be good to have it done though right in time for the weekend. a nice clean home to stomp around in while i aggravate myself with art writing and applications and finding the Right Words.
geez.
actually, i built one once but after a few months had passed, i really thought it sucked. i didn't do the best job organizing all the work in to collections and sections and compartments etc etc etc. and i didn't do a whole lot of writing for it either. obviously, i was not in the correct head space for the task at hand. but this time i am and i'm actually kind of excited about it. i mean, the few images of work i've got pinned up over there to the left of this blog really don't give an accurate picture of my practice as a whole. and i absolutely do not expect that anyone should waste their time scrolling through this entire blog trying to discern what my practice is all about. nor should they have to. so i'm organizing all the information, streamlining my online self a bit, and attempting to make things a bit easier for everyone.
and it's really nice to be able to see how the work has progressed through the years. especially the last 2 - 3 years. it's cool seeing my own work broken down in to portfolios. it lets me see the work so much more clearly. and honestly, there's such a wonderful and deep continuity in the work as a whole, spanning several years. i'm actually NOT all over the place! ha! very cool!
there's still a long way to go but i've decided it's best to take it a bit slow and do a good job of it this time around. no rushing. it doesn't need to be finished in a single afternoon. besides, there's still a whole lot that needs to be photographed and i also promised myself i'd clean the house today. ugh. between that and the website and polishing my artist statement and CV, i'd say this day is completely planned out. it'll be good to have it done though right in time for the weekend. a nice clean home to stomp around in while i aggravate myself with art writing and applications and finding the Right Words.
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