Tag Archives: insights

Personal Blog

Swan Lake, art, and pondering

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The last time I saw a ballet was in gradeschool when our class went to see The Nutcracker, and I remember being really impressed and excited about the whole rat battle, but after that it got a little slow. Sure the realm of the Sugarplum fairy was nice, but where were the rats? Where was the action??

That being my only experience, I was a bit hesitant to go see Swan Lake tonight, but I needed the convo credit and figured what the heck. Watching dancers exhausts me. The way that they’ve totally harnassed and utilized the capabilities of the human bodies fascinates me to the point of being sick to my stomach and leaves me wallowing in dizzying admiration

It reminds me of a play I saw called Resident Alien by Tim Fountain. It’s a great one-man play about Quentin Crisp, and is essentially a string of his little tidbits and insights on life that are all woven together. Because of this, it’s difficult to pluck a quote out of context, but I’ll do my best. In an explanation about ridding oneself of superfluous things and actions, the main character goes on to say…

“It’s alright if you are learning to sing or dance because these are activities the results of which you take out into the world and wear like a crown. People who have learned to sing will always have richer, rounder voices. People who’ve learned to dance will always have bigger, bolder movements, but as for pottery and basket weaving, what good are they? The moment the doors of the evening institute clang shut behind you you are back where you started. On the way home you might get into an argument with a stranger at a bus stop. It’s no good saying I can’t express myself you’ll have to come and see my baskets.”

When I first heard this in the play it really struck a chord with me, especially the part about dancers and singers being able to wear their talents like a crown, because they are always present within the person. It got me thinking about art, and sure enough, the character of Quentin soon brings up the visual arts…

“It would be difficult to express the dilemma that lies before the visual artist. If I showed you a huge great piece of concrete with a hole in it everybody would say it’s a Henry Moore, but if I could show you Henry Moore himself nobody would know who he was. So all that clipping, all that chipping, all that chiselling, it’s been in vain.”

I’d like to say I disagree strongly with the character on this point, being a visual artist myself. However, it’s not so simple, as the words make sense. Whenever I read it, it spins me off into deep ponderings about a talent’s ability to portray who a person is and this and that. Far too incoherent ramblings to journal about, but I wonder if it strikes chords with anyone else, too?

Personal Blog

Meeeemorieeeees

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Even though I was a total slug yesterday, I’ve been getting some work accomplished today. I’ve been going through my piles of stored junk and sorting it…stuff to keep, stuff to find a new home for, stuff to throw away, stuff to store…that sort of thing

I’m particularly proud of myself for finally getting my large pile of photos dated and organized into an album and an “extra” box, it took up the bulk of the morning. Dating pictures is one of those things that I hate doing, but know I’ll regret later if I don’t do it. Nice to have that pile finished with.

After sorting together a bunch of random papers and bits of memories–programs, newspaper clippings, notes, etc.–I pondered, “What can I do with all these scraps of things?” Scrapbook, duh >_< So that's another project to contend with, though I think it will be a good one. I love keeping stuff for memories, but have no good way of storing it beyond throwing a bunch of papers in a box; a scrapbook would work nicely. Another big project will be going through my piles of notebooks and school papers. I keep EVERYTHING, right down to high school, because I like to go through my papers and snip out the little doodles I've drawn. My papers have backed up considerably through college, so I'd like to get through them quickly so I can cut out the drawings and doom the piles of paper to recycling. I've already cleared up several storage boxes--only to be refilled with different items, of course, but oh well. Well, back to cleaning, I suppose.

Personal Blog

For Really Real Life

Another tasty Thanksgiving dinner complete. Hooray! It’s always nice to see my family, especially since I’m in school and don’t get to see them much. In spite of all my fears about graduating, today I’ve been feeling pangs of want to be out of school. I want to clean out my room and Stuff Collection and sort and throw things out. I want to clean the basement and set up a workplace down there. I want to go through things, and see what can be given away. All these things would take a longish, extended-stay-at-home time that I’ve been craving for awhile, though.

Talking to the puppet folk at UConn left me in high spirits, but I’m certainly going to have to spend a good amount of time, a year at the very least, building a portfolio. Whether I do this by getting a related job (John Hickman worked for a puppet place in Tennessee for a year and suggested I check it out) or working on my own (can’t wait for Dave and Brendan’s combined playwriting efforts to complete, wee!) I do not know.

There are all these looming things about my student loans if I don’t go straight to grad school, and I’m going to have to find some way of supporting myself in the meantime. I’ve considered looking into places that need digital image database work done, since that is the sort of work I’ve been doing for the college’s slide library. Just have to find a place with a need, I suppose.

At any rate, I’m not as panicky as before. I would fret and fret about my senior show, and Sheldon would comfort me not to worry too hard about it (but his method of doing this was pointing ahead to post-graduation, which I should spend more time worrying about) but I’ve stumbled upon something that could make for a good exhibit. So no, though I’ve made at least 5 glass armadillos, that certainly won’t be my senior show (it was a good method of clearing my mind), color fade vases might be the right direction.

I still have much to meddle with and figure out, but I think things are going to be okay. It’s just that, after spending your whole life looking ahead to these very short significant time slots–grade school to high school, high school to college–looking ahead and seeing “the rest of your life” waiting ahead is rather intimidating. At least I’m not in the boat alone.

In lighter news, some friends from high school are visiting tomorrow, and I am very excited to see them all. It’s been a year since I last saw any of them, and I’m looking forward to catching up.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Personal Blog

Slacker

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Amidst a busy week I am graced with a block of free time, and I’m so startled that I don’t know what to do with it. In keeping with my goal to be on top of everything by fall break, I’ve been very productive and have been getting a lot of work done. It’s surprising and satisfying, but at the same time, I’m a little discouraged with myself.

I have had nearly an hour to myself before load-in, and what do I do? Sit and idle. Maybe it’s just because I need rest, but I can’t help feeling like I’m neglecting all the important yet un-urgent things in my life. It would be a perfect time to pull one of those doodles from my notebooks (which I do frantically each day to keep up my drawing) and turn it into a finished work, or go and paint on my own, or start building a Halloween costume. Instead, I’m laying and staring at the ceiling, not even napping.

It wouldn’t be so bad if my mind would quit drifting back to the conversation I had with Carleton about the product of a fortune cookie taped to the paper towel dispenser in the painting area of the art barn that says “Idleness is the holiday of fools” to me every time I wander past.

Then again, it could be my body’s way of telling me to be still for a moment.

In more lively news, the chickens-to-be have been securely incubated, and I count them every chance I get ^_^

Personal Blog

Ramble

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I tend to think about a lot of things under the delirium of being sick. I got a nasty cold-thing earlier in the week, and I’m just starting to get better. However, under my icky daze, I found time to ponder great questions in life. Who am I? What am I going to do with my future? Why do I have “4 dimensional Mandelbrot set” written on my hand? Being sick induces strange things.

I think I may have found a solution to my art focus problem. On a glass trip to Louisville the other day, I saw some work by Lisabeth Sterling, and was absolutely astounded. She does very detailed and elaborate engravings on glass, and it struck me that if I should try this, it may very well be the perfect combination of 2D and 3D that I’ve been looking for. I’m going to give some engravings a shot for my final project this year, and see how I feel about it.

Needless to say, that is a big relief to me. Consequently, it made room for some other worrisome bits. May is flying out from underneath me, my last classes are this week, and before I know it, graduation will fling my friends out into the real world and punt me into Massachusetts for the summer. I get really clingy at this time of year. My very close friends are going away, and I would like nothing more than to spend time with them before they vanish. However, this time of year is so very busy, it’s hard to do. Excessive clinginess, therefore, is frowned upon.

I spend too much time at Rodes. Brendan assures me otherwise, but would he really come out and tell me if he thought I did? Becoming a near default regular at the place does have its comforts and advantages, but it also means I’m not a guest anymore, so no one’s really obligated to treat me like one. It’s very understandable, everyone is so busy. I feel invasive and in the way a lot of times, but every time I resolve to stay away and in my own space, I have the need to not be alone. I do need to round up all my things from there at some point, and pack them to be sent home. Bleh, I don’t like the end of the year, it’s too exhausting and heavy.

Personal Blog

SMASH

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It’s one of those pacing, puzzling, agitated days. I’m frustrated because the sun is shining, the weather is pleasant, and I am completely out of good or even logical reasons to be down about anything. I have this internal festering that I’ve only had twice before, which makes me want to do nothing more than skip down to the art barn, collect every piece of glass I’ve made, and SMASH them against the concrete. SMASH SMASH SMASH!!!!!!!!

The first time I felt it, I had Andrew with me, and he deterred the mood a bit to where I only smashed things in my “broken box,” so there was no real loss. The second time, I had friends about to hide among, so I would stay safely away from the art barn. Today, however, everyone’s in the usual busy state, and I can’t find anyone. I fear that if I can not find anything to prevent me, the aforementioned SMASHing will ensue (hence the reason for the journal entry, it should delay me a bit before dinner).

This would cause quite a predicament, as the student show is next week, and if I smashed all my stuff, I wouldn’t have anything to put in there. It is strange, this art-destructo feeling isn’t normal for me, not with anything 2-D, and I’m one of those people who is horrified when others tear up their drawings. Of course, the glass smashing isn’t really about my feelings on the quality of my art. I love all my pieces, like little children, which makes it even more disturbing how much I want to hurl them to the ground and watch them explode.

I’m sure there’s some deep, internal metaphor in there somewhere, but I’m tired and grumpy and don’t wish to find it, only the smashing. I think they should be safe, I’ll go to run some errands then go to dinner, maybe some food will make me not want to smash when I go to my glass slot tonight (maybe I’ll fling a wonky cup into the wall, just for good measure).

Personal Blog

On Arting

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So I’m reading this book, right? I’m reading along, and over this passage:

“He looked at his hands. They were large, strong–and yet unweathered, as sensitive and delicate as an artist’s hands.”

Now, when I read a book, I read right through, stopping only at chapter ends or when exhaustion overtakes me. But this time, this little passage caused me to stop in my tracks. I set down the book, and took a good look at my hands (which I recommend, I mean, how often do you look at your hands?)

I guess, with all the arting I do, that makes me an artist. But unweathered? Delicate? I don’t think I’d ever use these words to describe my hands, even though I *know* they’ve been used to describe the hands of an artist, in more cases than just this book.

My hands are used hands. They’re rough, calloused, and dry. They’ve born hundreds of nicks and cuts, burns from exploding glass or carelessly plucking up heated tools. In spite of all my caution, they’ve been saturated, I’m sure, in oil paints and mineral spirits and other nasty chemicals you really don’t want seeping into your body. They’re often tired things, frequently dirty–especially after arting–and hurt (again, especially after arting). I really should take better care of them…

…but that’s not really the point, I think. Who got the crazy idea that an artist’s hands are “delicate?” Or maybe I’m just thinking of “delicate” in the wrong way. I guess many artists have a delicate sense of control with their hands, especially with a large painting, or with throwing a vessel, or even handling glass. I guess that’s accurate, but I’m not sure if that’s the definition the author had in mind.

It brings up somewhat of an art major stereotype which people have conveyed to me: the artist who wanders fashionably about and engages in deep, philosophical, “arty” conversations, and who create art on dramatic inspiration and this and that.

Art majors aren’t like that! At least, here they’re not (well, Emil has that “arty” sense about him, but still). Sure, it’s not terribly hard to spot an art major on campus…they’re the ones who are constantly covered from head to toe in filth–paint, charcoal, clay, general art barn scum. They are tired people, who generally work too hard, and don’t linger every waking moment in the studio for their image of an “artist,” but because the physical work necessary in churning out their art requires them to do so. They are often exhausted and broken, and tend to neglect themselves, and are worn from pumping so much of themselves into physical objects.

Of course, this could just be me. Perhaps my view is skewed? Any input? I know you Centre people read my journal! You’ve told me, so comment! Comment I tell you! Tell me if i’m right about this.

In the mean time, ursulav wrote This nice post about art. It’s a good read.