Rainesville

Or, rather, Gainesville, but every single time that I have visited this place within the past three years, it has rained. I kid you not. Besides gray clouds, I associate this town with hangovers (unavoidable really, tis a college town, come on) and art. No trip is complete without a meander through the Harn, where there is always a lovely guard to mention something (check your bag! Is that gum you're chewing? No photos even on telephones, oh, it's a text? Well that's not allowed in here either, HOLD IT, is that a pencil or a pen??? I'm just being whiny, I completely understand the importance of protecting the work that institutions house, especially when it's on loan or purchased for an abundance of money, but forreals, they always have to say something, and usually snarkily.. but I digress, this isn't a post about museum atmospheres and why they tend to be uninviting and scary).

They had a lot of new work on display, and I was really, terribly excited about a third of it (pretty good, usually there are only one or two pieces that I spontaneously connect with; don't get me wrong, I'll spend ages thinking about and trying to understand work, but if that guttural, emotional response isn't there, it's much harder to get excited about). My favorites, in no particular order other than how I wandered through the museum and thus how they are written down in my notebook: "Los Carpinteros", by Dagoberto Rodriguez Sanchez; "Untitled" (I think, no title written down, oops), by Roberto Matta; "The Start of a Fairy Tale", by Eric Fischl; pretty much all of Hiram William's work except for "Some Parallel", I'll talk about why in a minute; "Untitled" (from the Somnambulist), by Ralph Gibson; " A Scene from Pina Bausch's Ballet..", by Helmut Newton; "Illuminated Man", by Duane Michals; all of Betty Hahn's 4 prints/photographs tucked away in the corner (I'm not exactly sure what they were); and lastly, the tenderness of "New York, 1953", by Elliott R. Erwitt.

Though all of these works are different aesthetically and conceptually, there are some underlying themes that draw me to them: scale, depth, nuanced color palettes, simplicity (of design? of appearance? of whatever media is being used? I'm not sure how to clearly describe this) and a sense of some kind of fragmentation.

Scale: The triptych presentation of "Los Carpinteros" was absolutely amazing and engulfing. That it was paper (more delicate) and an illustration-y/recognizable image on a stark white background allowed it to not be overwhelming . I like that. Large scale without the terror? (For lack of a better word). I stood for fifteen minutes or so in front of Fischl's piece. Dang. Things kept popping out, subtle colors and washes, even pieces of the composition (I didn't realize the girl was on a tightrope until I was walking away? How observant, Lks, hah). The work was huge, composed of five differently sized canvasses (an interesting idea, also something I've been observing with Sarah's work lately, alternative configurations, definately something I would be open to trying). The photographs were as per usual, smaller, as that's just the nature of the medium. Kenneth Josephson's works had me on the fence - their scale needed to be brought up, magnifying their importance, or decreased, which would require the viewer to commit and thoroughly observe the work. I've been thinking so much of scale lately, having those five 3x3's all stretched and gessoed and breathing down my neck asking to be worked on. And those bitsy things I just made, I'm not sure how I feel about them, if their miniscule nature diminishes them or truly adds to the intentionally ironic daintiness of them. HMMM.

Depth: Okay, darling readers and my future self (since this is mainly for me to remember and revisit as my hand writing is chicken scratch and it's far easier to dump pix on the internet nowadays than have them printed and glue 'em in my notebook), I'm just going to put this on the table: I love washes. Lovelovelove - am forever amazed at the sensuality and simplicty of them, am enamoured with the artist's hand for being so delicate, at the vibrations that can be created just by the subtleties of paint. It's bananas how over the moon I am for them. Yet, I adore boldness. The implications of rawness, frankness, and strength. Proof of life rearing it's head (or hand, I suppose). One way or the other, right? Pfft, no. I think both are valid, and I think that the two are necessary, working together, to create strong and visually appealing works. Take again for example, Fischl's piece. The one large plain of wash, almost a chartreuse-y yellow, that stood out perfectly highlighed an important aspect of the work, the symbolic article of red clothing the young girl holds, scratchily rendered. Voila. Holy guacamole on to Hiram Williams, those things are AMAZING. His washes, which range from tenative to heavy, almost bloody, juxtapose so beautifully with those dark marks, circular map-like lines of graphite. It just moves. The paper is dancing under that glass, it's not something flat, or dead; it's vibrantly alive, and I can almost see his hand there pushing them out. I feel him. I feel myself. I'm conscious of both, and that is the duality of art - that you can never fully understand the context in which work was created, only in the context of yourself; but to be aware of the presence of both - that is marvelous.

My foot is falling asleep and Rebecca Lucille just woke up from her nap, so I shall continue with my thoughts on color, simplicity and fragmentation later on!

Fitz and Dizzyspells

I really enjoyed the staining process. The salt took a couple tries, but it eventually came out interesting and nebulae-ish. Then I promptly collaged over and hacked away at them and drizzled the whole lot in ink and acrylic. I have some of them up on the website. They just lack the delicacy I started out with, so for my next round I think I am going to challenge myself to stay delicate (but not tight, tricky tricky). I think I can accomplish this by sticking to watercolors only, or just being much more sensitive with the paper I use??? Or maybe finding a simpler way of incorporating everything, like PK suggested. Louise didn't like the graphic sweetness of the little facial illustrations and I agree, but some of them are necessary. Perhaps not aesthetically, but for the feelings behind it, yes. I have to learn how connect those better though. HMMMM. Varrrryyy trickyy!

Blustery Monday

I am staining tracing paper with coffee currently, photos soon. My hands are soft and dryish and yellowy brown from being in the bowl of coffee, they smell lovely though. The salt isn't working that well with the watercolors, I think I just need to play with it some more. I opened up a box of new oil pastels Saturday, helping Lauren with her lesson plans for her middle school art classes and rejoiced. How art supplies smell! Something so small, yet pleasing through and through.

Thoughts

- Painting with coffee, dunno
- Salt + watercolors = maybe
- Layering
- Scale
- Stitching, round two
- Diptychs/ triptychs
- Reupping my stash of bfk, lovelovelove
- This dream from my dreamjournal the other night, I'm still thinking of it and absolutely puzzled:

"We are at a dinner party and Aunt Beth (/Mona Becker?) is only talking about all of the bff girls - accomplishments, etc. Jackie is in theater? (Lauren is in New York, Jodi is married, Amanda is in Atlanta) They all did one semester (?). No mention of me, just whispers of vulgarity and veganism, I am so hurt and upset and angry and have never felt like such an outsider before. (I wake up crying [hard] and my pillow is wet). I fall back asleep and it is dark and cold in a forest somewhere with my family and we are running and hiding and in this lean-to shelter and I am worried about my laptop being hidden well enough (under leaves)."

TGIF

Organized my oil paints, I'm going to try and strengthen my mixing skills and color palette, since UNF doesn't have a color theory class, boo. **Editeditedit, since Gaddy is too busy to teach a color theory class (!)

Holy guacamole, I start way too many projects.. All canvasses I'm in the middle of. Except for that mondo hideous figure study that's waiting to get sanded down.

and here is my fat kitty Duke, not really art related, but enjoyable nonetheless. Bobby and I put him on a skateboard (with his fave catnip bag, uh oh) when I was back home visiting and he was having a grand old time.

Charmer

I learned how to silkscreen Friday, how rad! Went back to countdown county this weekend and got my 3x3's, I'm going to stretch them soon and get to work. I'm enjoying working larger.. I always worry about my things being too precious because of how small they are. The line between intimate and precious is awfully fine, so why not completely go the opposite direction and just terrify myself with scale, hm? I brought my work in to portfolio today as people have been doing the past week, and showed the class heaps upon heaps of my work (too much, oops, sorry!). It was suggested that my dreams are weird and unique and interesting. I sincerely doubt that I am the only one with dreams, or 'interesting dreams' as it was said. I think it's more just a matter of training yourself to be open and to be interested enough in remembering them. And shutting off all that damn technological clatter, your cell phone and facebook feed, eek (say I, as I type this on a computer, on a blog, on the internet, haha, oi vey, but you know what I am saying?) and letting your mind take a deep breath. I think it's interesting that people don't wonder about their dreams more, honestly. I mean, every night, a whole play unfolds, an entire tapestry of characters, details, situations, plots loosely or tightly structured or no plot at all, with an abundance of such arbitrary and minute things! And they exist for a night? Maybe a few? Or perhaps repetitiously? In the framework of my mind, while I sleep? Why? How? Hm and hm. That's all.

SPRAAAANG 'TEN!

Lo and behold, the Spring semester has begun already. Bananas, right? From the ashes of my schedule that I royally screwed up (Film studies? Spanish? Gordon rule classes? What was I thinking?? Romanticizing everything in my mind seems to be a reoccuring trend recently, goodness gracious), marvelousness emerges - Medieval Women Authors (!!!!) and an independent study with Louise, on top of my internship downtown with Sarah and Senior Portfolio. So, working with two mixed media artists, no job (which means more time for the photolab and painting and lectures and openings), and a history class to stimulate my brain - how is my life such a beautiful bouquet of flowers? I get to create and learn. All the time. Forreal? Happy, lucky girl I am.

And, I mixed the most beautiful blue-gray last night. It's like when the last bit of sun has left the sky, but it's still dusky-ish before night has completely fallen, but not purple or orange, definately still blue, and a bit gleamy, but not overwhelmingly so. Getting flat, but rich. Right before the stars come out. Like that.

YesPleaseThankYou?

Oh, belated Christmas present! My dadders is building me four 3 by 3 ft frames, zing zang yessss! I've been working on this one I have that he already built me, and I really liked the format enough to mention it to him and thank him again, and lo and behold. What do you know? AND I got a bunch of new paint, big tubes. Oh yeah. Not Gamblin (heart), but the nice Winsor&Newton, still all good in the hood. The hood being Jacksonville, since you apparently can't find any sort of oil paint anywhere on that damned little island. Only citrus and smoky bars. Anyhow, Arthur-kitty is looking at me rather glaringly with his ever changing green eyes (sea foam, almost blueish tinted today), off I go to snuggle him and take away his teen cat angst!