rainy day

tap tap tap on the roof and windows, i pace back and forth. i crochet black roses and pray the sky will clear. i want to get out and run around the lake. i want to sweat and breathe hard and feel my feet pounding against the dirt. i go through my german flashcards (yes, i am totally so nerdy as to have flashcards), and listen to the angles of this beautiful language. the tones and foreign lilts coming out of my own mouth. it adds a new breed of romance to my life. a new shape and desire. and kate's book is here next to me. it came in the mail the other day and i am loving every second of it, every page. all her writing reaches into me and pulls out so many hidden things. her writing makes me write. her work makes me want my own even more than i already do. the work of others has always amplified and accelerated my drive. i go back and forth between reading and writing, turning her pages and turning out my own. tap tap tap on the keys and the rain on the windows.

elated

the opening friday night was wonderful. and insane! it was so packed with people the gallery got hot! :D and that's 3000 square feet of tremendously high ceiling space we're talking about! it was amazing! the art-going public in san francisco rarely disappoints. they come out in droves and love to laugh and smile and join in the fashion parade too. it's impossible for a people-watcher to be bored here. if you're bored in san francisco you might have sadly been born without a capacity for joy.

i've been lost in my elation even since. :)

and i finally got to meet the sweet and talented and absolutely adorable artist Amanda Smith. if you don't know her work you are missing out! it is fantastic! gorgeous! and with a splash of darger on it that is unexpected and beautiful and just so intriguing! it was so wonderful getting to speak with her and we totally had one of those cute and awesome moments when you meet an artist who's work you love and you both say "I LOVE YOUR WORK!" at the exact say time! hahaha! :D i am so happy to have work on the same wall as her.

and this morning, dark and early, i took the first steps toward a few new year's resolutions and enrolled in spring classes. german and ceramics. i'm probably one of the extreme few art-nerds who, in high school, did not take 2 years of ceramics. i think i had one semester and then focused on drawing and poetry as my electives. anyway, i've been wanting to learn how to make crazy plates to hang on the walls for a couple years now so i figured why not now? especially after getting up close and personal with Amanda's work and seeing how beautiful ceramic art truly is. and the same goes for learning german. so many of my favorite artists and writers are from germany and austria. i'd love to be able to read the work of elfriede jelinik and herta muller in the original. though the translations are absolutely beautiful, it is apparent that some soul has been lost. and so here we go! i'm a bit nervous but also very excited! it's been a goal of mine for a very long time.

the month that stands between now and my first day of class is going to fly by in a crazy, wonderful blur of work and art. in the middle of the reception, Freya and i were already working out a plan for the january exhibition. :)

i am stunned by all that has happened and is happening.

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.

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.

BURN, BABY, BURN!

i spent next to no time online this weekend. i holed up with books and papers and pencils instead. phone calls from old friends and lots of soul-searching, excavating existentialism. ha! i read Helaine Posner's long and beautiful essay on the work of Kiki Smith and rolled around in the ideas of Trust it contains. very much a "believe in yourself and trust the work" refrain. and then saturday, my birthday present arrived. while we were at the grocery store, the mail lady dropped off a big fat book at our door that jared had ordered for me. the huge Henry Darger book by Klaus Biesenbach. and so i spent the bulk of saturday afternoon and evening looking at the absolutely gorgeous reproductions of Darger's work, getting absolutely lost in the drive his work materializes- absolute faith in "the call"... the answering of that call, the reward. last night, i finally started reading the text of the book and am anxious to get back to it. and in between all this, tons of drawing. tons. i burned through so many pencils this weekend and will soon be left with only the stubs. which i'm saving for something a la Arman:





:) i've always admired his accumulations.

and this morning: i obeyed the MIGHTY RUN - 3.5 miles - came home, ate fruit and greek yogurt, read Malevich's treatise on Suprematism (which i will have to read again and again until it sinks in deep and i understand well enough to agree with half and dispute the other half), and have already gotten a good hour of drawing under my belt. this is a fantastic start to the new week. and most welcome after last week's recurrent disillusionment and deflated attribute. oh, the joys of the artist ego! FRAILTY! ha! but i have resurfaced and am thinking a lot about my own values and ideas... finding ways to keep the fire stoked and high. it is all about maintaining one's own passionate commitment to this thing. answering the call is the reward.

every single day, i must find a way to answer it.

my twisty education has lit back up.

this is why rants and blogs are good:

i re-read the post below and realized i answered my own question: sit here and look at the work and shuffle it all around and see what narratives arise as a result. patience patience patience. curation is tough stuff. the worst thing i can do is rush and start forcing things together.

anyway, for all the writers in the room, here's a portrait for you. ;)




writer
15" x 12"
graphite on paper
angela simione, 2010

smarty pants! :)

my reading list swells and swells. thank you to everyone who commented on yesterday's post! VERY VERY helpful and insightful and encouraging and greatly appreciated. THANK YOU!


p.s. the conversation continues over at Roz's blog! come on over if you'd like to keep talking. ;)

education:

mine has been an odd one, that's for sure! full of corkscrews and resistance and anger and ecstasy.

and it absolutely continues to be that way.



did you know i graduated from continuation school? ha! it's true! i was in honors classes prior to that and it was pretty hilarious to see my old class-mates pop up there too. ha!

it was there however, at the school for "bad kids", that i read Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, the first 1000 page book i'd ever read, the first book that i felt really did leave an indelible mark on my life... it changed everything.

and it was while i was enrolled there, after having read that book, that i became a california state art scholar. which made everybody do a double-take! hahaha! one day i was a step away from dropping out and the next, i had a medal in my hand. very odd!

i can't tell you how long i lived as a statistic, how close i was to always being a statistic. and i think it was my hatred for that "statistic" that made me hungry for something more, something else, something Other. that, and a teacher who believed in me.

it was then that the dream and act of writing, of being a writer, really really woke up. woke up hard and fast and burning and searing and flailing. wild! and totally uncontrollable. i always had my notebook with me. always. and i held that dream tight. i decided to follow it. i decided to believe in myself the way my teacher had: my lovely, lovely Mrs. V.

after graduation, i spent 7 LONG YEARS at the same junior college, plugging away and trying to devise a plan for somehow finding the money to go to a university. it absolutely took that long for certain doors in the financial aid department to open up for me. and so in the meantime, i decided to keep in practice, keep going to school, keep working, keep trying, keep searching for a way out of my circumstances.

7 years of life-drawing. of every single art class the school offered. every writing course. and religious studies and history and literature and math and psychology. everything that i had even the fainted interest in. and at the time i hated it.

i felt caged and ridiculous. i felt like a fucking loser. i spend a lot of time feeling entirely lost and completely helpless and utterly stupid... full of anger and regret and despair. of course, despair. like most teenagers, my dreams where way too big for my little town and it was soul-crushing to have to stay put that long.

but now, i couldn't be more grateful for the weird meandering line my education has followed.

during those 7 years, i worked too. some really un-fun jobs. i wasn't just hanging out (though i did a fair amount of that too and had all the horrible experiences everyone has). a couple times i held down two jobs while going to school. and there was one really, really bad relationship tucked up in there too. and for awhile, i double-majored in english and fine art. after a year and a half, art won out. at the time, i figured that if art wasn't what i ended up doing for the rest of my life, it would at least lead me to what i would be doing and i've been following it ever since.

i was 25 when i got to art school. the first day of class was my birthday, in fact. best present i ever got. and the best thing about it- i got it for myself. my circumstances had changed. it took a lot of heartache to get them to change, i won't lie. it took a lot of persistence and failures.. but they did change. and i changed my life with my own two hands.

that memory in particular is the one i lean on most when i'm feeling defeated. that i did it once, i can do it again. all i have to do is keep trying. and that fighting spirit is what i lost during the big bad 2 year depression. i completely lost it. gone. and being without that strength of will was so damn painful, so scary. that little spark of rebellion, of refusal to accept one's circumstances as THE RULE, is so important. amazingly important. because until i die, the struggle and shit of the world will be mine too. the ability to believe in myself is the only thing that got me through the shit thus far. to have that spark back feels so amazing and securing and valuable. like a gem... or a childhood relic that has been saved from the yard sale.

and it was the dream and act of writing that kept me from slipping back in to the hated "statistic".

and so my education continues. it has not stopped. even that depression is part of it. even that has value now that i'm on the other side of it. if anything, my education has gotten deeper as a result. it's so much more personal and fiery, full of such exquisite twists. it is scary and angering and beautiful... this search, this reaching out. it's even embarrassing sometimes but it makes my life so full and alive and buzzing. i've never read so much in my life as i am reading right now. and i am actively seeking more things to read- things that are definitely not at Barnes & Noble, things that have to be hunted down, wrestled with, slept with, fought with. things that piss me off and offend me sometimes, things that really do challenge my ethics and force me to look inside myself and see why i believe the things i do. sometimes, my beliefs have changed. other times, they've been made stronger. trial by fire, to be sure. and all the while, i maintain a certain level of fresh naivety because naivety keeps you from feeling intimidated in a lot of ways. when you don't know any better, you're more able to just be yourself. you're open and interested and, in some ways, entirely fearless. just like a little kid. and since i was a shy child, always so full of fear, this fearless playfulness feels wonderful.

this is one of the reasons i get a kick out of things like National Poetry Month- a built-in excuse to be playful, to be a "nerd", to take charge of my own education, to make the rules up for myself, to cater to my own interests, to lavish in adulthood this way, to decide for myself what is worth-while. i love it!

education has a very broad definition... or, at least, it should. it is a life's work. at least i think so. and it doesn't stop after the degree is in your hand. in fact, in the 2 years since i got mine, all the stuff i read has really started to sink in... and it has made me so hungry for more. it's like i've learned how to see. lived experience is what all the theories and studies and ideas are derivative of. when we study, we're studying life in all its forms- all its beauty and weirdness and atrocity. if i have a definition for what "education" is, it's that: learning how to see. just see.

anyway, i'm feeling sentimental now. ha! i'll be back later with today's poem. there's more coffee to drink and more ideas to play with and it's still early. good morning. :)

good morning, all my loves!

i stayed up so late last night! so late that when the alarm went off at 5 i didn't even hear it. and when my sweetie tried to rouse me 45 minutes later, i sat up, looked at him, and my sight was shaky- something that used to happen to me during my last semester in school when life was GO GO GO and sleep was a rare gift. so i grumbled "one more hour" and laid back down and slept for 3. ha!

i went out to the city last night for one of my friend's openings. the show was gorgeous and i was so inspired and happy to be there. and i lost track of time laughing with people and meeting new people and, before i knew it, it was 10:45 and i still had an hour and a half drive back home, out here to my little spot in the countryside. but i had a fantastic time. it was one of those nights where it's so hard to pull back on the reigns and detach from the happiness at hand. amazing. well worth being tired. well worth the snag in my "schedule". ha! besides... it's friday and drizzling and i've already given myself permission to say the weekend has arrived. :)

lately, i've been spending my weekends with my nose jammed in a book and it has been such a gorgeous experience. i count myself incredibly lucky to have been exposed to the work of such amazing and skilled writers. and reading is so integral to my practice. such a necessity. this huge influx of ideas is my favorite environment- tall grass to roll in, warm and without judgement. and taking in all these words, all these images and metaphors and philosophies and theories and poems and gestures is so much like drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream on top. so comforting and safe. it's an experience in which i feel completely myself, completely at home. i hope the used books i ordered from amazon show up in my mail box today. especially "A Lover's Discourse" by Mr. Wonderful, Roland Barthes, my love. swoon swoon.

and of course, our big built-in excuse to be BIG FAT POETRY NERDS! YAY!!!!!

yesterday, after posting the first poem of the month by the untouchable Sharon Olds, i got in a wonderful email exchange with Jeff Callico about her work- how forceful and hard and gorgeous it is, and how, like Bukowski, she doesn't mess around with metaphor... she wanders the autobiographical and presents the shit, the mess, the joy, the jumble of living. and it made me want to read all her books all over again. to dive in to these black lines and float there on the rim of her life, the memories that crawl back and back again, that twist the present, that caress or corrupt a day.

so let us hold on to her black rope again. a double shot. she is worth it. and she is required reading, for sure.

a poem for Good Friday. ;)




The Pope's Penis




It hangs deep in his robes, a delicate
clapper at the center of a bell.
It moves when he moves, a ghostly fish in a
halo of silver seaweed, the hair
swaying in the dark and the heat- and at night,
while his eyes sleep, it stands up
in praise of God.





(from The Gold Cell)

a bit more sunshine

also, i wanted to take a moment to thank the blog-o-sphere for not only giving me a space to work out my ideas, but for exposing me to new ideas and perspectives that i might not have stumbled across otherwise. i find myself right smack in the middle of such a wonderful and twisting education as a result. i've found so many thoughtful artists and writers and thinkers. i've been turned on to authors and poets and artists that i didn't know of prior to really attempting to engage in a daily blogging practice. and the more i read and think and wrestle, the more well-rounded i feel... and that feeling is very happy. i've got quite the reading list complied and just feel so thankful that this space we're in, whatever it is, is very much like a classroom. sometimes it gets heated, sometimes arguments erupt, but the struggle itself is good. i feel more and more inspired and excited simply by taking the time to read the thoughts and opinions and research of others. and to all the people who leave comments, whether it be here or on other blogs, i really appreciate your insights too. sometimes a comment spins my entire perspective around and i can see very clearly the thing i've overlooked inside my own thinking. and i'm very thankful for those moments. i think education, in whatever form it comes in, is a wonderful thing. it definitely isn't easy sometimes, especially when a clash of ideals happens, but even those instances give me pause- room to really consider what my personal/artistic philosophy is and where it comes from... and if it needs to be amended. it does need to be challenged ever now and then in order to grow.

i'm choosing to leave my embarrassing posts up for awhile... especially the ones in which my fervor or empathy or passion may have run a bit wild and i turned away from seeing the grey areas of life. i'm leaving them up for now as a way to chart my own learning, my own growth in terms of building a more open mind, a more inclusive set of ideals and approaches to the world. i do truly want to be as compassionate and thoughtful as i possibly can. it's a big priority. sometimes i get really embarrassed over not having all the answers and that's just something i'm going to have to get over. ha!

all this to say- THANK YOU for participating in my education! thank you for writing and commenting and struggling with ideas too. i learn so much from you. :)

satisfaction

Caesar's final action was to pull his robe over his face so that the betrayers who murdered him would not get the satisfaction of watching him die.

i'm liking that print more an more.

and i've been painting and writing and studying all day.

vitamin D and the work of Banks Violette.

i am spinning gloriously and reverently and just so damn full of questions and sentences and images. my brain is jerking and throbbing. it feels like being in love. it is being in love.

i love this woman!

i was lucky enough to see this show in LA when it was up. it was one of the best shows i'd seen... and still is.

when you're in the room with these paintings and you can get up close, the whole story changes... the whole world even, maybe.

what a gorgeous artist. what a gorgeous person.

half way

in my sickness, i am making my way through Aase Berg's With Deer. it is either the worst time or the best time to read this book. it is infectious. or is it intoxicating? or does she cast such a net, such a spell as to make the reader intoxicated with the resulting infection?

i get a few poems in and have to stop. later, i write write write and the same fat maggots present themselves but their color has changed and maybe their shape... so then... not quite the same.

always crawl closer to the people, the writers, the artists you admire.

there is a Buddhist saying that goes like this: when the student is ready, the teacher arrives.

i'm no Buddhist but i know a smart cookie when i see one... and i know when a good teacher appears.

they are all around me these days. good teachers. everywhere and i am lost inside wonder and feeling completely undeserving.

yes, you.





level







i can only take her cells in doses. sharp acrid insistence. she scratches at my face and i wait for the "i'm sorry" but all i do is wait. i turn a page. i feed on the next cell. i install her breath in my swelling in my feigning eager mouth. red and pink and capped in silver. shame under the tongue and shame between the teeth and shame below the gum line and shame inside that great grey mass between the ears. a dog hung low. head on the floor. that sorrow. that beg. and i crouch now, i go low, level with the sad dog eye, pooling brown and spilling blue and sucking at the acrid breath. sucking at the cells and the pages and the lists of things that go on and on,

still,

without remorse.







angela simione, 2010

bare with me, it's a biggun! shoes, facebook, and the art biz...

oh man. OH MAN! these shoes are WONDERFUL! AH! what a difference! now i know why the guy at the shoe store cringed so hard when i told him that i'd been running in an old pair of beat up converse. ha! i mean, it's a completely different experience! i can run farther EASIER. it's unbelievable! and i don't breathe as hard either. i'm truly amazed how having the correct tool for the job impacts the job itself- something i've sorta always known but hadn't applied to the jogging thing honestly because (1) i've been a cheap ass and (2) hung up on the cuteness factor. stupid! lesson learned! and the brand is: saucony! take my recommendation, guys and girls, these shoes are IT! accept no substitute! this is the shoe for you! :)

and now back on to art talk-

so... facebook is just another social networking site right? well, not quite. if you make "friends" with the right people, it's actually a pretty nice tool to have in your bag. i've made sure to make "friends" with every art institution, gallery, whatever that i can think of that i admire and would love to work with one day. i get regular updates about openings and it really does help to know WHEN stuff happens if you'd like to be a part of it. also, i'm currently enmeshed in a wonderful (sometimes enraging) conversation about the role of the audience in an artist's process or approach to art-making. it's all i can think about for the last three days since this conversation started. hearing how other people interpret this issue has been both shocking and insightful and has given me tons of new ideas to consider. TONS! i haven't really gotten to have conversations about things like this since art-school. it's so much fun! so here we go...

the audience.

this is a topic that applies to artists who want to show their work in public. and i'm still learning the ropes on this one too so bare with me and please chime in if you've got something to say. :)

in my opinion, it's not really up to an artist WHO gets to be in their audience. it's not something you have much control over. if people like your work (or are even intrigued by it), they're in your audience. and what they have to say about your work is information that can only help you. at least, that's been the case with me. example: if i painted a picture of a cow and 99 out of 100 people said it was a painting of a duck... that's good information to have. it's information i can USE! now, to me, it'll probably always be a painting of a cow, but the truth is that i inadvertently learned how to paint a duck. i might not have succeeded in satisfying my original intention, but i've learned something... i've gained a skill that i didn't bet on. it's not a bad thing and it's not a negative critique either, it's INSIGHT in to HOW people SEE your work. and once you've made the leap to showing your work in a public venue, you need to realize that you've opened the door to having discourse. you can't shout out statements and then slam the door, refusing to let others respond. art is a form of conversation. it creates a space for discussion and sometimes the discussion heads in a direction that the artist would never have even dreamed of. that's part of the fun. and it's valuable to know how the majority of people see your work. very valuable. that kind of information is just what you need to know how to tweak your work in such a way that mistaking your intentions will happen with increasingly less regularity. and i do not mean that you compromise the work at all- it's about tightening up your skills and not thinking that you're smarter than the audience and that they're just there to be told what to do and how to think. because the cold, hard truth of the matter is that the vast majority of people on the planet DO NOT CARE ABOUT ART. evidence: the fact that art programs are always the first thing on the chopping block... even in times of economic health and stability and growth. more evidence: the common adage "starving artist". most people believe that there's absolutely no money to be made in art and that a person who decides to follow this road is resigning themselves to a life of poverty and toil. definitely not the truth but it's the common outlook and one we've all heard. and here in america (consumerist nation!), involving yourself in an enterprise of poverty is stupid. so yes, most people think art is stupid. it's sad but it's the case. it's what we contend with. most people do not spend their free time going to art galleries. they just don't. that being said, people who DO go to art galleries (the minority) are people that artists should want to have conversations with. if they care about art, they're in your audience regardless of what your work looks like or what your motivations are.

and on the topic of LOOKS and how it relates to the audience...

the small amount of control an artist has in relation to the audience is getting your work in the correct venue. example: if you make paintings, you wouldn't expect to show in a photography gallery, right? and more specifically, if you paint portraits, you wouldn't (or shouldn't) approach a landscape gallery for a show. that's NOT what that gallery is KNOWN for. and getting your portraits in a venue that caters to PORTRAITURE is the quickest, smartest way an artist can get their work in front of an audience that LIKES that kind of work. and that has absolutely NOTHING to do with compromise or anything along those lines. nothing.

just like the hard lesson i learned about running shoes and having the correct tool for the job, choosing the correct venue in which to show your work makes all the difference. it's a tool. and the experience of working with a good gallery is amazing. a good gallery will never tell you to start doing different work or to change your style or anything like that. ever. you've already considered your audience by doing the research to find out what kind of gallery suits your work. you'll run farther EASIER!

considering your audience has nothing at all to do will dumbing down your work or making things easy or spelling out every last detail. not one thing to do with it. it's about getting the stuff you've worked so hard on in front of people who will respect and appreciate it... because not everyone will. i know for a fact that my work isn't for everybody and that's okay. it's the way it should be.

who knows- as the conversation on facebook progresses, i may end up eating my words on this. and as i get further in my career, my outlook may change. but i'm going to leave the door open on gaining insight from other people which is the entire point of this post. i made a decision a long time ago to leave the door open to having a change of heart and it has proved to be a very good decision.

the dance...

after an amazing weekend of printing and land-sailing (yes, LAND sailing! my first time and so completely fun and scary!), painting takes priority today. The Jog will have to wait until this afternoon. an iffy decision on my part but i've got to spend as many hours in the studio today as i can possibly stand. the painful final moments of a painting has arrived- the staring, scrutinizing, debilitating critique of a piece. lay down a single mark then back up as far away from the work as possible and look for what comes next. it is a slow dance but entirely necessary and this painting deserves the best i've got. and so the torture of critiquing my technical abilities will be endured and the anguish of meeting my limitations will commence. the painting requires it. this awful stage is what nourishes the work as a whole and i've got no say in the matter. when it's over, i'll be thankful. i'll be endless in my happiness and i'll feel nothing but sheer gratitude toward the process. this is the learning curve. every canvas is a learning curve. i'll always be a stumbling student, humbled by the enormous expanse of what there is to learn about art, painting, composition, technique, etc, etc, etc. today, i feel completely novice... but it's okay. i suppose one should always feel this way. it keeps the heart in a state of longing and, as far as art in concerned, that's the right place to be.