Summer Shin Dig

    To be back and making my own decisions. Some kookier than others (floral thrifted pants) and some sensible and mature (cerulean silk blouse).
    Last night I was complimented by friends on the trials and tribulations I had overcome in the past year. They said I was graceful and strong. They spoke of my young relationship with high regards. I glowed. People who's opinions that really matter. I hadn't even thought of this year as being a difficult one (though 2011 could never be mentioned again and that would be just fine). As we recounted our accomplishments and passed stories and credits around the room our report grew more and more animated and ridiculous finally ending in exhaustion.
    I was struck by the types of things they noticed about me. It is always that "own voice on the answering machine" when you see yourself reflected back in the eyes of your friends. The gap between the ideal and real self. That gap grew smaller and smaller, what they said made me proud of myself.

Zombies in Miami

We discussed the end of the world, or at least of everything familiar. It was no longer possible to talk about the paradigm shift and remain untouched. I was scared. You were complacent. Not surprised by that which rocked me. You were ahead of the curve and I was just I introduced to it, still ahead you said. What good would all of my training in cultural critique do in a fight for survival? What good is studying culture when it is ours which is running us into the ground? "That's not your culture. It is the McDonalds culture running us into the ground." The artists and the street musicians will be vital you say. I am still scared.

Hanley and Me

Rebeca and I, the next generation at SOU. Wanabe art moguls and all around hooligans. It has been so fun to have a peer of equal age, ideas, goals and enthusiasm. She is bright and driven. Totally silly and genuinely kind. 

At the CCACA 2012 conference a few weeks ago I engaged in a real young art community. It was so fun to show work within such a wide spectrum and see ourselves toward the top. To talk to other new artists about their work, answer challenging questions about your own. My undergrad fan girl status regarding the other artists in our show turned to reciprocal respect and friendship as the weekend progressed. It felt young and grown up and professional and fun all together. 

Enhance Yourself

One of the weirdest assignments. "Enhance yourself". Brings out every petty insecurity and every 2nd wave feminist "I should know better, I am woman hear me roar blah blah blah". Ultimately I feel both, but the process was very unnerving. Just two hours of work and I got an editorial style version of myself; fuller lips, higher brow bone, different shaped eyes, even complexion. I resolve to never buy a beauty magazine again. I feel tired. I don't even want to address "social standards of beauty", it's a lecture we have all attended. But here it is again. Do I love myself more? Do I feel I should change? No, I just covet photoshop all the more. 

I Guess I Have Orange in my Eyes

Kudos to my dad for being a trooper and taking these photos. 

A dinner party with one of my favorite family friends family. So cool, they are splitting up for spring break, mother and son going to New York and DC, father and daughter going to London. Absolutely cultured, present, charming and hilarious. Such a treat. And I got to dress up for the first time in awhile, despite my greasy-busy-bun I managed to rock some more formal looks. 

These boots (more images to come I assure you) are my newest choice find. They are scarlet inside! Thank you Nordstrom Rack.

     While I talked art and London life with these visiting folks my dad told me that he was very reassured and proud by my "passion in art". He said tonight was the first time he was shown that this wasn't just a fad. Seeing me communicate on an adult, academic level about museums in London, Damien Hirst, my budding passion for mob movies and Banksy, really showed him that (gasp of novelty) I am serious about my pursuit of art. One point for art students everywhere. 

As You Wish

Meet Wesley, our new friend. He is a 35 pound miniature pot-bellied pig. He is leash trained, potty trained and responds to his own name. He is more obedient than our dog. He was previously owned by a family friend and needs more yard time, and we are happy to have him. Scratch his belly, he'll lay down. 

Among the Rain

   The week has been trying- exams, installations and work. Among the balance I see you and I am lucky.  Standing in the rain waiting for the police, I touch your hand and admire your calmness. My father commented that you were attentive and sweet toward me, and even in company I feel you closely. When your face is next to mine and I feel your cheeks swell with a smile my heart melts. Thank you for listening. Sneaky quiet kisses.
  It is cold, we are getting rained on, lights are flashing and voices are strained, we are safe but we are tired. All the same you are authoritative and kind an impossible combination.
  An arm around me, you know I leave because I am asked to and not because I want to. Tomorrow we will do nothing and love every moment.

Getting a Woody

Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering – and it’s all over much too soon.

    Woody Allen  is one of my favorites. Neurosis and all he is poignant and a great critic of social "normalcy", particularly regarding relationships. I love watching his narcissistic characters spin themselves into stranger and stranger scenes. No writer has been able to capture people with such prolific absurdity and accuracy. 

    I knew my new relationship was going to work when I showed him "Scoop" and he loved it. Allen is definitely an acquired taste and quite frankly a make or break in my book. A lot is at stake, introducing my sense of humor, what Jewish families look like, and all of the oddities within each relationship. 

    The truth of the matter is I'm in love, and for some reason Woody is my guiding light. After the ugly demise of my relationship last year, I though relationships to come would be difficult and cynical. Woody has it right; relationships are definitely difficult, but you have to take it all with good humor and a grain of salt.  Any other form and you would just go crazy. But that's the best way to go with life right? I'm having a blast with this new one. I love listening to him talk about things I know nothing about (punk music) and being silly. After he borrowed the "Scott Pilgrim" graphic novel series from me I suggested Hemingway and I have never had a funnier response. He wants to read it to see what I like, but I'm certain he doesn't like it. What a trooper. 

    John Cusack in "High Fidelity" says that it's the little shit that matters (in relationships), movies, books, music. It seems shallow but the simple things are important. While Cusack plays a total jackass in that movie, there's something to be said about the newness of learning about somebody. There is something precious to the process of learning about someone new and being surprised and delighted by the things they like and feeling honored in their genuine curiosity in you. 

Self Construction

This is an excerpt from Today's New Name May Be Tomorrow's Old by Sassafrass Lowrey

   "This was performance art. My body the only prop I needed, the streets and punk houses of Portland my stage. North Portland still haunts me. Killingsworth to Lombard, I walked those streets cloaked in darkness, a soundtrack of riot grrrl and folk recorded in Alberta basement studios. Making stages from propped up pallets, learning to silkscreen with weak Oregon sunshine, and stealing double sided copies. On the edge of genesis I created, loved, and fucked, as bodies shifted and savings accounts ebbed and flowed with the seasons. Surgery funds traded for rent, dinner out when food stamps were low. Art was everywhere. Walls and skin covered with layer upon layer of color, image and meaning bleeding together. My cuticles crusted with spray paint, glue, copy-toner and cum."

Everyone should experience, play with and own their self creation. If my transgender studies class has taught me anything it is that ultimately no matter our gender or sexual orientation as queer or as predictable as possible, we are all self made and should cherish that process and result. You and only you can dictate yourself. Of course cultural standards, family pressures blah blah yeah contribute but ultimately it is down to only you. You are fully responsible for your proudest and most fucked up moments. They are equally legitimate and equally yours. Own them, make them, love them all.

A Touch of Springtime

Shirt: Thrifted, Hat: H&M, Bag: Target, Jeans: American Eagle, Shoes: Steve Madden, Sweater: J Crew

      

      It's beginning to feel a lot like spring time this February. Good thing we are expected to have snow for the rest of the week. I took this rare opportunity to don some sandals and barricade myself to the library to start my research paper. 

   This earring is one of my favorites, multiple feathers and a snail shell. I like to pair it with a smaller earring that picks up the green string towards the top. 

     My research project is on the transgender community and its participation in post modern art, and based on that participation and the benefits gained from post modern activities how we can anticipate that community to act in alter modern art (what we are currently in). Juicy stuff. 

Midnight Art Building Adventure

   Late the other night I left my paint brushes in my painting locker in the art building and I needed them for homework. I grabbed Stephanie and Chelsea Garmon and made them come with me, little did we know it would be a little adventure. The art building is great with huge windows and filled with the strangest things. We went to the painting studio first.

My favorite shoes. If you haven't caught on by now, I'm real short. 

This is Chelsea. What a cool cat she is. See that pocket? She sewed it herself. 

Stephanie in her new Sherlock shirt. 

There's this weird new section in the art building which is a hallway painted with weird circus types. But we loved it. 

        Then I took them down to the print lab. Printmaking is my focus for my art major. I started this project a few weeks ago which has been a great experience. Printmaking is so much about the process, so many things are permanent or stubborn and everything takes a very long time. In this project though I had a very different sort of process all together which required me to work quickly but with great care. 

         I found a dead robin on campus (good thing the purse contents glamour shot wasn't that day). I knew it needed to be in a project. Initially I thought about giving it to a friend in the ceramics department to make a mold of it. But then looking at the feathers I knew I wanted to print off of it. Directly off of the carcass. So that night I took it to the print lab and tried it. 

       I would daub ink onto the body and then hand press it onto sekishu paper. It required me manipulating the body in a slightly forceful manner, daubing with pressure to apply enough ink, stretching wings, adjusting the head and neck, pressing firmly. I had to work quickly for the body would only stay flexible and (relatively) non smelly for a number of hours. It was a difficult process, I tried to be ginger with my actions but when I heard the first bones snap I stopped, teared up, and pressed on. After that I let bones and tendons snap with less mourning but was teary all the same. I would fold his wings over his body, under his body. Tilt the head at extreme angles, push hard on the skull to get the impressions of the eye socket. Pull the feet at full length to get solid linear shapes next to the ephemeral looking feathers.  By the end of the process his wings and head were sadly limp and mangled. Eventually his feathers were pulled out by ink and I could not use him any more. I wasn't sure If I was exploiting this body or if I did the best I could. But the thought of being responsible for the mangling of a body was not a good one. However the results were quite beautiful. So my morality and my art-hungry self battled that night. Ultimately I think the pieces are lovely. I buried the bird the next morning and felt right. 

A Turn Inward

   I have drawn more pictures of this rabbit than any other singular subject. Neville is my garden friend, he is charming and friendly. All of the pictures are gesture drawings, not a single one finished but all of them capture a piece of him. But I keep at it because I love the process.
   A friend recently asked me why I blog and I found myself instantly embarrassed "I dunno, narcissism of course" was my reflexive response. But I blog because I love the communities I have found online. Fashionistas, crafty moms, and broke-ass kids a like have turned to the internet for ideas on how to dress, make, and adventure on the cheap. Friends like Stephanie and Sarah have shown me how to get started and helped me with my own networking. Amy and Rookie Mag have shown me what a blog can be "when it's all grown up". Projects like THIS are more artful and important than we know. Blogs like THIS have shown me the beautiful in the ordinary, and THIS has inspired entire internal conversations with pictures alone. Blogs like Zines before them have ultimately united ambitious people and given them a network to share ideas with unprecedented abilities.
   I do this because I want to see, share and be shared. This process has been challenging even in the first month. I can't wait to see what Wildish and I become when we grow up.

Mother's Milk

I went and saw Hoon Lee, ceramisist and performance artist at the Schneider Museum on campus. I saw him  speak earlier this week and even had the courage to approach him to discuss an aspect of his performances. Lee's performance usually include using milk to serve a penance to his mother, to racial differences, and gender issues. Tonight he washed raw clay molds of strange but edible objects (roosters, sheep heads, cabbage heads, corn cobs, giant snails). After the mail performance he invited anyone to wash an item which . Lee and my ceramics professor Robin Strangefeld went to school together on the east coast. It's pretty inspiring to think that friends we meet now in art school could potentially be internationally celebrated. It must be a kick to be professors now and inviting each other to be visiting artists at their respective schools.