Heed the Signs

I just saw this and thought I'd share it. http://www.buzzfeed.com/jpmoore/this-is-how-you-advertise-for-an-art-school

Say What?

Several years ago, a student came up to me and sheepishly admitted, “I don’t get sarcasm. I really can’t hear it at all.” It was almost sad the way she said it, knowing that she was missing out on something—like she was in a foreign country where she didn’t speak the language—after all, I’m not the only sarcastic person around. I didn’t know what to say to her. She was basically telling me, “I don’t get you.” I wasn’t even aware at how often I was using subtle inflections in tone in my communication.  I felt sorry for the girl, unable to hear these nuances to perceive a meaning beyond the words being spoken.  But unlike many people who don’t get sarcasm, she at least recognized the issue. I was brought up on sarcasm and maybe that’s how you have to be in order to “get it”.  I’m now aware of good friends of mine—people I like—who don’t get it. When someone says something in a sarcastic vein around them, they respond, “really?” and then this is followed up by the sarcastic speaker saying either “no, I was just being sarcastic,” or perhaps in a double-sarcastic whammy, the speaker will say, “Yes, really.”  The listener becomes even more perplexed after that retort and everyone has a good laugh.

At any rate, I bring this up not because I want to point out how evolved those who get sarcasm are, but because it points out something that I appreciate about language—something that my mother told me under different circumstances all the time, “It’s not what you say, but how you say it.” This is why WRITING AN EMAIL IN ALL-CAPS CAN SIGNIFY THAT YOU ARE YELLING, or why you pick up the phone to tell someone something rather than email them, afraid that they will miss the “how you say it” part of your message and get their nose bent out of joint.  It’s why “drop dead gorgeous” can be descriptive (“wow, she was drop dead gorgeous.”) or a directive to your prettiest enemy. It’s the slight shift in one’s voice that can change the meaning—and this makes me happy. It’s the little things in life, after all. 

Past Tense

This is how it started:

It seemed so simple at the time--too simple maybe. I had been struggling in grad school following my mother's death in the middle of my first year of school.  I tried to create meaningful work but it didn't resonate with everyone else. Nobody got what I was trying to say with my paintings. Professors went to great lengths to tell me that I was over thinking my work, basically instructing me to lay off the heavy thinking for a while. Clearly, they didn't understand the agony that I was experiencing with the loss of my mother. Didn't they know that it was all I could do to just be in the studio in the first place, let alone create beautiful paintings? If anything, I wanted to convey the meaning behind the hurt, but the imagery that I chose wasn't going anywhere.  The oddball among the group of work that I'd done, this two-paneled piece with two simple words got all of the attention from the panel of reviewers in my studio at the end of the semester.  Nobody gushed or wrung their hands in grief while looking at this piece. Instead, they were able to imbue their own experiences upon it and the sense of "is" being turned into "was" in a mere moment was felt universally.

So began a big phase of my work in which words became the subject of my art work.  The words themselves contain meaning so manipulating them in the work became my challenge and in some ways my calling. Sometimes serious and sometimes funny--words became the tool to tell my story visually.

Shortly after the "Past Tense" piece, I did a piece on that serious note--working out the feeling of loss that I was experiencing. When someone close to you dies, people will tell you that "life goes on" and it's true. But, how could it and what if it really does go on?  The devastation of forgetting the cadence of my mother's voice complete with its thick Long Island accent, or the sound of her laugh, or the way she looked when she smiled...that would be terrible to lose. Yet, memories fade and I was completely aware of that being a possibility.  I made this piece, "The Forgetting" to recall the layers of memories, some prominent and some floating off into the distance.

The same word, "remembering" is hand-printed in pencil over and over, dozens of times. The repetition of writing the word so many times--to meditate on it again and again--could possibly help save each memory from evaporating with time.  The choice of pencil was important as a medium--so basic and easy to use--but something that can ultimately be erased.

Over the years between then and now, I've come to use words in much of my work (not all)--and I am still excited at how simple words and phrases can continue to fascinate me.

Black Friday

Oh, did I mention that these word pieces are for sale? They are. And, there will be more posted shortly. I'll also give some examples of some previous pieces (not for sale) so you will get the gist. How much are they, you ask? Well, it depends--but generally speaking, I'm pricing them at $100 per piece. Most are about 8" x 10", some are a bit bigger and some are smaller. In the spirit of capitalism--I mean, the holidays--I'll strike up a deal if you purchase multiples.

I'm learning that this self-promotion thing is not for the faint of heart...

Thanksgiving

Turkey is overrated. There, I said it. On the other hand, stuffing rocks. And, pumpkin pie too.  I will say that this holiday that always struck me as a bit boring as a child, is much improved with an "Arrested Development" marathon and my appreciation of spending time with Greg and his family.  Now that it is tradition (three years in a row!) to host Thanksgiving, I'm glad that we have a low-key affair which ends up in a crokono game enjoyed by old and young alike. But enough about Thanksgiving, the holiday.

More about thanks giving, the sentiment that I have now that I'm starting to get my creative groove back. Greg pushed me to hang up some of my old work around the house a few months ago and recently when we had folks over there was a very positive response to some of the pieces that were part of a series that I did years ago.  Enough positive feedback that a friend asked to buy some.

Here are a couple that Joab is getting on Sunday.

I'm now inspired to do more and have a few up my sleeve that I'll post once their ready to go.
In the meantime, here are a few others that are hanging up around the house:

More to follow...for now, I've got to sleep off some of that stuffing...

For the Love of Blog

I am writing this blog under duress. I have never written a blog nor have I ever wanted to write a blog. But my husband, who thinks he knows best, is encouraging me, or rather, forcing me to write this blog. Don't worry, he's not standing over me giving orders. That would make for a short relationship (and while we've only been married a month, we've been together for nearly 12 years). He just wants me to come out of my art-making/writing funk--the one I've been in for several years now. To be honest, I'd like that too. But, first you need to know how this funk got started in the first place. The poverty of being a recent MFA graduate, scraping by on several adjunct teaching positions and odd jobs helped a lot. While my full-time colleagues in the art departments where I taught had ample time for the studio, I burnt out far too quickly.  About four years in, I'd say. 

Now, a bunch of years later, I'm slowly shaking it off. I've got some new things to show and some old things that I'd like to share too. So, here it goes.