tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28613925107038428952024-03-05T02:02:48.715-08:00rebecca peebles' art monologueAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.comBlogger313125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-53465481902927712332017-02-24T09:24:00.002-08:002017-02-24T09:25:18.887-08:00I titled it "Spending Time"Today I read a conversation between artists David Horvitz and Alexandar Provan wherein the topics of time and space - as delineated by modern society - are challenged or re-explored so as to perhaps find oneself unconfined by the ideas. After all, we can mostly all agree that time and spacial organization are tools that we've devised to organize ourselves and do not actually exist apart from our mutual understanding and agreement. There was a time (haha) when we knew approximately what time it was simply by the appearance of a star on the horizon line or by a cast shadow. In that era, intuition and the reflexive "body clock" were still of great relevance compared to modern life - wherein we stay up all night working because the deadline is tomorrow and we need global synchronicity (ie: working simultaneously with partners in Japan) to stay ahead (of?). Yikes! Always trying to get ahead. The "keeping up with the Jones" theory morphs into global competition. What a huge drag! How completely exhausting!<br />
This Victorian era "clock" designed to tell time based on the moments in the day when flowers bloom should give a lift after that depressing thought:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8Dg6kmxomsVhhtXZNfcSxEGFgh3Wxz34lDadmNhjKLdnnlOjy-QRHiFyM8AjzB-MwlseKsv-C-7DowT_Om-NNxecLJuXH0mMAKOt-2bfB8uYL0UdaA9CBvZjDVPGjWxFnCuFD6MlxnA/s1600/flower+clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8Dg6kmxomsVhhtXZNfcSxEGFgh3Wxz34lDadmNhjKLdnnlOjy-QRHiFyM8AjzB-MwlseKsv-C-7DowT_Om-NNxecLJuXH0mMAKOt-2bfB8uYL0UdaA9CBvZjDVPGjWxFnCuFD6MlxnA/s640/flower+clock.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus proposed use of this time keeping device in <em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #111111; font-family: FreeUniversal, Futura, "Trebuchet MS", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: start; vertical-align: baseline;">Philosophia Botanica</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "freeuniversal" , "futura" , "trebuchet ms" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"> (1751)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
All that to bring up what I thought as I was reading about the irrelevance or pliability of time and space - two things: 1. I've recently learned the technique of transcendental meditation which seems to exist in a space of no time and 2. I titled my first cross stitch double portrait of myself and husband "Spending Time" - more on that....<br />
<br />
The experience of transcendental meditation has been somewhat miraculous to me in that I haven't ever felt the way I feel while practicing this meditation. All other types of meditation have left me feeling frustrated and wondering if "it's working" or if I'm really doing anything to help my most basic anxieties. This technique seems to do as it's named, transcend. I actually don't experience time (even though my thoughts are going on and on just as "normal"). Instead, there's this inexplicable experience of all and none, here and nowhere, now and forever. I have a short, set amount of time that I'm shooting for to spend meditating and it's important that I don't meditate all day, but the precision of time just doesn't matter. It's the <i>activity</i> that takes precedence and must be repeated twice daily along the rise and fall of my typical human energy levels and moods. <br />
<br />
The more personal realization of how I work on my artwork as a timeless technique came to mind as well. I'm currently working on the 2nd (of what may be a series of) cross stitch double portraits of myself and my husband. There are almost 41,000 stitches equaling the number of pixels in the 10" x 16" photograph I am reproducing. <a href="http://www.rebeccapeebles.com/" target="_blank">When I did the first one, titled "Spending Time," I approached it much like the honoring meditations of my repetitive artworks before it.</a> Spend a lot of time working on it through a repeated action, practice precision and contemplate the work as it slowly evolves however sometimes frustrating or other times freeing. To me, this idea correlated with my understanding of myself in a long-term (marriage) relationship. However sometimes freeing or other times frustrating, it's all time, spending time, it's an accumulation of everything all intermingled together into one big jumble of "us." And then, there's the "no time." I'm reminded of the buddhist "no mind." There's also the "no us" and the "no me." The slowness of making my art also flies in the face of contemporary art making practices which run along the same rat race (art market) as the rest of our capitalism based self making. I realize that I am just NOT cut out for that race. So, as long as there is "no time" and I'm "spending time" I'll be taking care of the otherworld, perhaps the neitherworld (like Horvitz captures) of the Art world. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BKNH0YtXpE_Zco9q39DnNy1pPCbv1AiqIvfXMSQKiFD8SlzvEQlHxjoJnUOjf2xdNAAlqrqzkpOLnLTrZy6PuhiMLJn60Y3l-nRKxbPUtHMGlZ__RpaFZPPzo3XnTCwYPF19LNTyHC0/s1600/SpendingTime2-Feb2017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BKNH0YtXpE_Zco9q39DnNy1pPCbv1AiqIvfXMSQKiFD8SlzvEQlHxjoJnUOjf2xdNAAlqrqzkpOLnLTrZy6PuhiMLJn60Y3l-nRKxbPUtHMGlZ__RpaFZPPzo3XnTCwYPF19LNTyHC0/s640/SpendingTime2-Feb2017.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working on my self.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-29296278826009403192017-02-08T08:17:00.000-08:002017-02-08T08:21:14.473-08:00Donald Trump is the American President. I am an American.The feelings I have about being an American have been polluted since I started voting at 18. I remember the responsibility I felt toward choosing the best candidate for any office and then the immediate feelings of hopelessness as the more I investigated, the more impossible it felt to choose the right candidate. And then, Barack Obama came along. I felt that my moral upbringing, which was my compass for better or for ignorance, was finally matched with a moral, ethical, candidate of integrity. <br />
<br />
And now, in a backlash of American ignorance to which I was truly heretofore ignorant, we have a president in office who totally ignores morality, ethics and seems to lack basic human integrity, decency, kindness, patience, and really every single positive human trait that I can think of. These prominent publications reflect my position of frustration and deflation:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwO0EsAgwAhKBxRce4qwUDWKD9hIRXS_hAPH7OFr9TDuloVi4NI3ecHZmGAfyRcMYA2gyWre47SGhvML6rKf13d2ysN4nGWHmYOomS277Lzp6JkSovOSipTwqzUrXqyk_BVFDbLMz-nMk/s1600/Trump-loser.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwO0EsAgwAhKBxRce4qwUDWKD9hIRXS_hAPH7OFr9TDuloVi4NI3ecHZmGAfyRcMYA2gyWre47SGhvML6rKf13d2ysN4nGWHmYOomS277Lzp6JkSovOSipTwqzUrXqyk_BVFDbLMz-nMk/s640/Trump-loser.jpg" width="476" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
...and though I would never go so far as to put a cross-hair symbol on someone's head, I appreciate the bold honesty of these media organizations. It seems in some ways that the media may actually be appealing to me (and I was beginning to believe that might not be possible).</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-72324628089470964002017-01-31T11:41:00.003-08:002017-01-31T11:42:39.731-08:00Art and practice.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wcT97geraI2vnr2CQJPn3VS8SFWM-wwSdJhuH9gahLcTjInfglGVLUfQtk6O_SQCu9lUg0KC0an0Lnl7ShSmAUvvYFZrYsyDuhQ6aYzOQAhNC1iwhBrHuJ-QHaxpz311yW-NLbIvEpY/s1600/buddha-mind-art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wcT97geraI2vnr2CQJPn3VS8SFWM-wwSdJhuH9gahLcTjInfglGVLUfQtk6O_SQCu9lUg0KC0an0Lnl7ShSmAUvvYFZrYsyDuhQ6aYzOQAhNC1iwhBrHuJ-QHaxpz311yW-NLbIvEpY/s320/buddha-mind-art.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
Speaking of books, another book I have been reading is Buddha mind in contemporary Art, a collection of essays and interviews regarding the relationship of Buddhism to art making and artworks. There are so many valuable and inspiring commentaries by artists, critics, curators, and just art "people "in this book that it is difficult to choose one idea to share here. I picked up the book because of a curator I liked - a few of his writings I'd read just rang true to me. I've always been interested in Buddhism, so this book has proven inspiring to me as it addresses, from various points of view, the remarkable similarity between mindfulness practice and art making.<br />
<br />
When I was in college, I studied printmaking and fiber arts as I was magnetically pulled toward those repetitive disciplines. Much like my love for running as exercise, hiking, and other sustained, contemplative activities, I was unaware of how my art-making resembled mindfulness practice and pointed to my essential desire to create space in my own mind and cultivate the mental state of <i>flow</i>.<br />
<br />
Upon introduction to meditation technique, I realized my art making was so similar. I also realized my art making could provide context and inspiration for mindfulness as the end result is a product that continues to exist beyond my own contemplative practice. So I started to make art, however sophomorically, that pointed toward these ideas I was learning in a novice Buddhist study. I still love many of those well intentioned works.<br />
<br />
In my recent years of having stepped away from the art community, I find (through reading, art making and learning new art 'languages' such as piano and Spanish), that my mindfulness practice is stronger and more important to me than ever. As a student, I was not fully aware of the potential for mindfulness practice in my art making, but over time I see there is always an unfolding realization of this essential aspect of my work. Perhaps the only purpose of art making for me is to cultivate and present the possibility for mindful living. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmh4TW4dNhljpLIbSegkleysw9meq8IDLrIJ7dsaQDcuIG2b2NcDPqxrRVUxkHxGtDieESHiLDmxSiBMMfeYovnBolIUZ2-hjUfGpllriYYBN43Kpxw2U5lB10wO2WcDL5v4rOd6N-zo/s1600/cross-stitch-Jan-2017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmh4TW4dNhljpLIbSegkleysw9meq8IDLrIJ7dsaQDcuIG2b2NcDPqxrRVUxkHxGtDieESHiLDmxSiBMMfeYovnBolIUZ2-hjUfGpllriYYBN43Kpxw2U5lB10wO2WcDL5v4rOd6N-zo/s640/cross-stitch-Jan-2017.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Current progress in my time of slow contemplation of my marriage, the "spending time" that is "us" and that unequivocally builds my awareness for our growth (with all it's rises and pitfalls) as partners.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-80195666944200602562016-12-27T12:15:00.002-08:002016-12-27T12:47:35.908-08:00Read Alain de BottonCurrently reading<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f6kvSxN9fT45egTKKVRXpaPwslArgzopc5Z0sKUkeWO5aOf8ilxCh0Bpew_pG18pOzyqZ2uJwZ2IpvAjPiYgcayHqnI4UL7hZeg0pDBSEveH_0g3T2QHOZU_2iX4S_zA_A7_OHktxlI/s1600/ArtAsTherapy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f6kvSxN9fT45egTKKVRXpaPwslArgzopc5Z0sKUkeWO5aOf8ilxCh0Bpew_pG18pOzyqZ2uJwZ2IpvAjPiYgcayHqnI4UL7hZeg0pDBSEveH_0g3T2QHOZU_2iX4S_zA_A7_OHktxlI/s640/ArtAsTherapy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Read this book.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
And I think the share I have to share first is (from pages 64 & 65):<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<blockquote>
What, then, are the consequences of holding to a therapeutic vision of art? Principally, the conviction that the main point of engaging with art is toe help us lead better lives - to access better versions of ourselves. If <a href="http://www.artastherapy.com/" target="_blank">art has such a power, it is because it is a tool</a> that can correct or compensate for a range of psychological frailties....</blockquote>
<blockquote>
1 A CORRECTIVE OF BAD MEMORY Art makes memorable and renewable the fruits of experience. It is a mechanism to keep precious things, and our best insights, in good condition and makes them publicly accessible. Art banks our collective winnings. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
2 A PURVEYOR OF HOPE Art keeps pleasant and cheering things in view. it knows we despair too easily. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
3 A SOURCE OF DIGNIFIED SORROW Art reminds us of the legitimate place of sorrow in a good life, so that we panic less about our difficulties and recognize them as parts of a noble existence. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
4 A BALANCING AGENT Art encodes with unusual clarity the essence of our good qualities and holds them up before us, in a variety of media, to help rebalance our natures and direct us towards our best possibilities. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
5 A GUIDE TO SELF-KNOWLEDGE Art can help us identify what is central to ourselves, but hard to put into words. Much that is human is not readily available in language We can hold up art objects and say, confusedly but importantly, 'This is me.' </blockquote>
<blockquote>
6 A GUIDE TO THE EXTENSION OF EXPERIENCE Art is an immensely sophisticated accumulation of the experiences of others, presented to us in well-shaped and well-organized forms. It can provide us with some of the most eloquent instances of the voices of other cultures so that an engagement with artworks stretches our notions of ourselves and our world. At first, much of art seems merely 'other', but we can discover that it can contain ideas and attitudes that we can make our own in ways that enrich us. Not everything we need to become better versions of ourselves is already [at hand]. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
7 A RE-SENSITIZATION TOOL Art peels away our shell and saves us from our spoilt, habitual disregard for what is all around us. We recover our sensitivity; we look at the old in new ways. We are prevented from assuming that novelty and glamour are the only solutions.</blockquote>
<br />
Excerpted from <a href="http://alaindebotton.com/art/" target="_blank"><u>Art As Therapy</u>, Alain de Botton & John Armstrong</a>. Phaidon. pgs. 64, 65.<br />
<div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-32391953317790265582016-12-01T12:31:00.000-08:002016-12-01T12:36:59.865-08:00November happened.... I swear.It's hard to believe, but the month of November actually happened.<br />
<br />
It's December 1st. I've been thinking for a few days about writing a post during the month of November (Somehow, keeping the blog current, ie: at least one post per month, seems like the "right" thing to do, but really, whatever. Is anyone reading? Doesn't matter.), but then, I just didn't. I've been feeling worn out and low-down lately for a number of reasons. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8AelcjaP85X_JXtv7Ymk_TUWkhlT2WRyQZ8B6XeCD7kx8XL8JJXLITAh45AsPJyjdqIkUAAytt9QG3vr8mtCQS2OXrv1IH0aHMoBWeHajx9rpJ9Lfn1T4zXmraamXH1ZrL6QwgVZ4FI/s1600/IMG_4247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8AelcjaP85X_JXtv7Ymk_TUWkhlT2WRyQZ8B6XeCD7kx8XL8JJXLITAh45AsPJyjdqIkUAAytt9QG3vr8mtCQS2OXrv1IH0aHMoBWeHajx9rpJ9Lfn1T4zXmraamXH1ZrL6QwgVZ4FI/s200/IMG_4247.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peru and Me, communing in the 1st Chakra<br />
garden on my last day at <a href="https://www.willkatika.com/" target="_blank">Willka T'ika</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I returned from Peru October 31 and hit the ground running. Peru was fantastic. I think I belong there. The people are incredible, the countryside of the Sacred Valley along the Urubamba river is beautiful and rejuvinating, and the centuries old style of artesanias hit the nail on the head (for me). I may catalog my acquisitions from the trip on this blog's next post.... <br />
<br />
Anyway, when I returned, I had this great homecoming with Christian, enjoyed the beauty and cleanliness of my home, partied late into the night with some new friends, celebrated my birthday(!!!!) ...and then, Trump was elected president. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5zifSwVgGal8IyXY5c3nzBxCDyxNXS6vsmahfT7vDrUSsOzE-QWeDCx3aQLDb8I0LRP-00j47-gvLo6hgG-f2pC63VnrSHsJGMZJ5tIF-klBAwqH615YngJvoOTXsd3lFB4Z6jmjdSA/s1600/IMG_4360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5zifSwVgGal8IyXY5c3nzBxCDyxNXS6vsmahfT7vDrUSsOzE-QWeDCx3aQLDb8I0LRP-00j47-gvLo6hgG-f2pC63VnrSHsJGMZJ5tIF-klBAwqH615YngJvoOTXsd3lFB4Z6jmjdSA/s200/IMG_4360.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...this seems to be the general consensus<br />
in my neighborhood.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Wow. Not a hoax. For real. I know many of my peers are deflated and feeling disoriented and wondering what the hell is going to happen now. The month of November has been clouded over by this potentially devastating reality. Or, we have no idea what may come of this change. Perhaps the USA will not go down in flames. (That's my little hopeful voice.) <br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQsTN75LENvK9X-E9iZtINz49iiZH9vTqIFWoBBpZI8WRu2UBZBWoYcA5yl5DrciFta9ckaGOYAJSdIuVjbFn5lhAs9W8vn5peEr1lfcVszML76jF3F3uwXuZBAp56ISqFdEVMQmuYjo/s1600/IMG_4261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQsTN75LENvK9X-E9iZtINz49iiZH9vTqIFWoBBpZI8WRu2UBZBWoYcA5yl5DrciFta9ckaGOYAJSdIuVjbFn5lhAs9W8vn5peEr1lfcVszML76jF3F3uwXuZBAp56ISqFdEVMQmuYjo/s200/IMG_4261.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mural beginnings after measuring <br />
& chalking lines for 2 days</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div>On the first day after that reality struck, I spent my day painting a mural on my friends, <a href="http://russ-salon.com/" target="_blank">Russ and Shannon's Salon</a>. The exterior wall facing the alley was in pretty bad shape, so we decided, before I left for Peru, that I would paint the mural when I returned from my trip. It was good to be outside and doing physical labor - I called it Art Labor and Heart Therapy - after the election result shock. So I spent the next 3 days measuring and prepping to paint. We visited our friend in Portland for a long weekend. That was awesome because I love him and I love our other friends that we got to see there - so a little pick-me-up. Then I worked for 3 more long days on the mural, trying to get it done before the temps of mid Nov. start to plummet. So hard on my body! So beautiful a result though...<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmevEYgeLL4ssKGBJV1ky4xnqQFu97cTF7hQGcmYCe3_oJExsb-Iz9cxd9V4S4pqZGVzqGV-ixRJksCtwWMt0DLNsBcjRVa4e1ZYSru6yvcyH5XbAt2BwWKlGiD6kbWQ1iYW4cH7MALrY/s1600/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmevEYgeLL4ssKGBJV1ky4xnqQFu97cTF7hQGcmYCe3_oJExsb-Iz9cxd9V4S4pqZGVzqGV-ixRJksCtwWMt0DLNsBcjRVa4e1ZYSru6yvcyH5XbAt2BwWKlGiD6kbWQ1iYW4cH7MALrY/s640/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The golden goodness of simple patterns, textile style on <a href="http://russ-salon.com/" target="_blank">Russ Salon, 3221 East Colfax Ave. Denver, CO 80206</a>. I am super proud of this great, big achievement. ...I'm also grateful for friends who trust that art and beauty matter!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60oSyLPlssA5qkaalpOmHOMm-h4Y0dvft3CKllDjGAuZXJj3-8diMrHlXqJ7RorSSuL2FvmhJJN6KPsFfu74vtKVemXO9H-EHZQJ1t_qsilkT6Y813cA6KGH96SEDHn699FC63Bp7q2c/s1600/IMG_4354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60oSyLPlssA5qkaalpOmHOMm-h4Y0dvft3CKllDjGAuZXJj3-8diMrHlXqJ7RorSSuL2FvmhJJN6KPsFfu74vtKVemXO9H-EHZQJ1t_qsilkT6Y813cA6KGH96SEDHn699FC63Bp7q2c/s200/IMG_4354.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway, all this to say, I didn't really get to process the trip to Peru. So much psychological and emotional shifting took place because of traveling by myself to such an awesome place, and I had some really important things to process, and I still feel like I'm hanging out in liminal space with all of it still unsettled (Run! Run-on sentence!). Feeling unsettled always makes me feel depressed. The cold weather of November's second half has been rough. Thank goodness for Thanksgiving! I needed that fun, fun time with tight friends and totally delicious, incredible, artful food. All along, I've also been in the midst of work for our friend Caroline's new restaurant. Christian did the architecture and we worked together on the interior finishes, much of which will be handled by my very own hands. I'm into that. That also means I'm missing working on my own artwork. The cross stitch sits untouched for about 2 months now. I find it hard to get back on that wagon - it feels like the feeling of starting a new project, like having to take the leap again. <br />
<br />
So, if you're out there, reading this, and it occurs to you to think of me, send me some loving encouragement vibes. I'm working really hard, but I'm not feeling the flow or just feeling good, and the lack of specificity around that issue feeds into some weird, self destructive internal thinking. <br />
I need what the Peruvians call, Munay - "love and will." <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6OA-kQ3NU_VDl3ZaJ0RztgSuOP-6WB5PdXQGsw66uziTT3XcLZmb21nfe_8khOs6G-9TjT7x7rOafGcaZCD-Xru176Pv-uuXUu60vdJcnAD7V8r-wD76w5IjRgYwMWEA1Oc21-c2vSs/s1600/IMG_4154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6OA-kQ3NU_VDl3ZaJ0RztgSuOP-6WB5PdXQGsw66uziTT3XcLZmb21nfe_8khOs6G-9TjT7x7rOafGcaZCD-Xru176Pv-uuXUu60vdJcnAD7V8r-wD76w5IjRgYwMWEA1Oc21-c2vSs/s640/IMG_4154.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just makes sense to end with an image of this precious sheep, Obobo who lived where I last stayed in Peru. He was such a comfort and a delight to me when I was alone and wasn't feeling well. Just thinking of him makes me feel a little better.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-83515345686091587082016-10-09T13:06:00.003-07:002016-10-09T13:06:22.903-07:00this is not a parody<blockquote class="tr_bq">
this is not a parody </blockquote>
Let us all remember that this hilarious and horrifyingly entertaining show we call Donald Trump is in fact, NOT a parody. Yes, a sociopathic, xenophobic, white supremacist <i>is</i> running for the highest office of our country, the United States of America. I am, however, supremely impressed with the effects this man has on all corners of our country (to all degrees of power and media coverage, abuse and exploitation). <br />
<br />
I am also intrigued to hear about this "trojan horse" that, apparently, a politically conservative pop news creator curated (?) managed to organize for a Brooklyn gallery. Yes, a far right political group (of artists?) tricked a gallery into believing that their Trump show was a parody (easy to do because this all seems like a joke anyway). As it turns out, their motives were Trojan. Here's the original Opinion article by William Powhida in Hyperallergic: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="http://hyperallergic.com/328846/this-is-not-parody-fuck-trump/" target="_blank">This is not parody. Fuck Trump.</a></blockquote>
The article is worth a read, so I hope you'll read it. This is my favorite paragraph: <br />
<blockquote>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="http://hyperallergic.com/328846/this-is-not-parody-fuck-trump/" target="_blank">So, can parody be used effectively to shame, ridicule, and mock the status quo, the power elite, the crypto-fascists, and the oligarchs who are likely thrilled to watch the art world react in horror to the parasitic infiltration of Winrich? As Hito Steyrel observed in her essay “International Disco Latin,” “But satire as one of the traditional tools of enlightenment is not only defined by making fun. It gains its punch from who is being made fun of.” In this formulation, Winrich is not lampooning conservative collectors or Trump supporters, he’s mocking the shared progressive beliefs of the art community that embraced difference at a cultural level long ago, even if it’s economics and demographics have yet to catch up at the level of representation in galleries and exhibitions. On the other hand, perhaps Winrich has succeeded at parody. I think he has done a fine job of illuminating the mythology of Vice Magazine’s culture of white boy party privilege in a far more accurate way than I ever succeeded with a performance I did at Marlborough Gallery in 2011 titled, “POWHIDA.” Sometimes, the only thing you need for effective satire is to get out of the way and let people be themselves. In this, Wintrich’s performance has been entirely revealing, bravo <insert preferred epithet>!</a></span></blockquote>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfMGa3rJm9JEENVskJ6cqJYaQ2M0rq3j1VAEOGsS7_vxnYqZJoCLnSbZjftbQAHk5dMSdF44teorA_np2sF4TCbQzwQt_s4pqcBUJs8zsck5LXRFFX9LF-7aFBSN8wI_6bYr_2gf17OI/s1600/IMG_8732-1600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfMGa3rJm9JEENVskJ6cqJYaQ2M0rq3j1VAEOGsS7_vxnYqZJoCLnSbZjftbQAHk5dMSdF44teorA_np2sF4TCbQzwQt_s4pqcBUJs8zsck5LXRFFX9LF-7aFBSN8wI_6bYr_2gf17OI/s640/IMG_8732-1600.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: start;">William Powhida, “Fuck Trump” (2016) (image courtesy the artist)<br />**I swiped this image off the Hyperallergic site. Hoping they won't care because I side with Mr. Powhida.**</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-24700012749703141572016-09-21T10:14:00.001-07:002016-09-21T15:36:50.281-07:00Neurological <span id="goog_1669567482"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_1669567481"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsPyZvuj8cMfKAszk3ZgOQvyDcop3NCLxMQyFd0wy1xX1z5MQCzhvNT-4eHQMerO2vG5u9kLA7S2VrLXxXmKRuuuImgxFUfTheb37DVjVn5p5HWs7RQMXO1ZBA0bHHLVUEo5cjb69W_o/s200/Fountain+-+Duchamp%2528urinal%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/">Fountain, Duchamp, 1917<br />Tate Modern's collection & image</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span id="goog_1669567483"></span>It turns out that our intentions, whether making or viewing art, are what make the art. Two hundred years ago (!) Immanuel Kant philosophized that in order to appreciate art, we have to detach our emotions from the viewing of the work and think and look critically at the formal elements of the art. If we know that what we're looking at is art (and this is not always obvious these days), then our approach and our response to viewing the work is different than if we assume it's an everyday object. Perhaps we thought the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fountain_(Duchamp)" target="_blank">Duchamp urinal, titled "Fountain,"</a> was just left out temporarily while the plumber installs a new one and plans to haul away that dirty old fixture? No, we saw it in an <a href="http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/duchamp-fountain-t07573" target="_blank">art gallery or a museum</a> or in an art history text, so we knew that despite Duchamp's cutting edge use of the ready-made so easily confused with banal real life, it is art. We thought philosophically (or were asked to) about the difference between art and the everyday object and the impactful idea of synthesizing the two. Even "Duchamp described his intent with the piece was to shift the focus of art from physical craft to intellectual interpretation." (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fountain_(Duchamp)" target="_blank">quoted from Wikipedia</a>)<br />
<br />
A new study by Dutch scientists explores this emotional connection to viewing art versus everyday life, and the finding correlates with Kant's theory. Quoted from the lead researcher Noah van Dongen (Erasmus University, Rotterdam):<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; border-radius: 0px !important; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
“This work suggests that when we expect to be dealing with an artwork, our brain responds differently than when we expect to be dealing with reality. When we think we are not dealing with reality, our emotional response appears to be subdued on a neural level. This may be because of a tendency to ‘distance’ ourselves from the image, to be able to appreciate or scrutinize its shapes, colours, and composition instead of just its content. We know that our brains may have evolved with ‘hard-wired’ mechanisms that allow us to adjust our response to objects depending on the situation. What this work indicates, is that Kant’s two century old theory of aesthetics*, where he proposed that we need to emotionally distance ourselves from the artwork in order to be able to properly appreciate it, might have a neurological basis and that art could [be] useful in our quest to understand our brain, emotions, and maybe our cognition.”</blockquote>
Yay, art could be useful! <br />
(laughing out loud to myself)<br />
<br />
Here's the link to the article I read on Science Daily's site:<br />
<a href="https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/09/160918180006.htm">https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/09/160918180006.htm</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-41821553700356162132016-09-06T11:34:00.001-07:002016-09-06T11:36:12.209-07:00I suspect most people...I suspect most people feel similarly to Victoria Coren Mitchell, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/sep/04/art-bores-me-glad-other-people-like-it" target="_blank">read article here</a>, upon considering the opportunity to visit an art gallery. She speaks frankly about the drag of standing in a gallery and thinking, "now what do I do?" or "What am I supposed to think about?" (I'd r<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/sep/04/art-bores-me-glad-other-people-like-it" target="_blank">ead the article now.... </a> It's not long, and I had a good laugh, so <i>there's</i> a bonus!)<br />
<br />
These are the questions, among other frustrated comments that I've heard spoken with close friends and coworkers upon viewing art or discussing the meaning and purpose of art. Obviously there's this cultural importance of art for which there must be a venue. (Must there be a venue?) I think we can at least agree that art is critical for the creative and expressive nature of the human mind, specifically <i>some</i> human minds that <i>really go there </i>(know what I mean? <i>out</i> there). Of course, the <i>out there</i> art, just letting it all hang out, makes us feel something - perhaps disgust, surprise, regret or perhaps delight, relief or compassion, etc. etc. I imagine that for some, it is the sudden confrontation with inexplicable human emotion that makes us dread art viewing. On top of that, the feeling of being stupid - that most westerners fear - because we have no idea what this artist (creatively <i>out there</i>) or artwork is conveying. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_Hx8EvHwsj0VFAIngJTllo3OOQR2I7sYAxcsKXlqSzyMIxxLCsyR7TLAuuHgfszyS51MSyQ29kIp9BoOKfejKFRV9IcWIhiRqR_nCM3DdoA_iIELVwoS6-MxP9ie0HgAUbdMxnR9kpE/s1600/David.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_Hx8EvHwsj0VFAIngJTllo3OOQR2I7sYAxcsKXlqSzyMIxxLCsyR7TLAuuHgfszyS51MSyQ29kIp9BoOKfejKFRV9IcWIhiRqR_nCM3DdoA_iIELVwoS6-MxP9ie0HgAUbdMxnR9kpE/s400/David.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/sep/04/art-bores-me-glad-other-people-like-it" target="_blank">Totally ripped this image off the original article in the Guardian.</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Well, here's what I'll say to that: Go ahead and feel whatever sudden and strong feelings come up. Never mind judging your self or anyone for having feelings. Allow yourself to be curious about it like you would as you wake up from a vivid dream. As for having no idea and fearing being the stupid one that has no intelligent remark upon viewing art - oh, get over it. Allow yourself to learn something or just not know. There's something totally human about not knowing and as buddhism points out, not knowing is sometimes the only way to know. Revel in the freedom of having no pretense and no presupposition.<br />
<br />
If you haven't any interest in attending art galleries, I don't blame you. Unfortunately, there is an off-putting stodgy feeling in many art galleries and other art venues. However, I do hope you know an artist or two, or spend a lot of time in nature, or are creative in some way yourself because it's the terrible/wonderful aspect of death/life and ugly/beauty that can tune us into the bitter/sweet reality of our unique human experience.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-89419266525938284622016-08-24T15:13:00.000-07:002016-08-24T15:13:09.551-07:00Thinking about thinkingConsidering how regular my blog posts were in my 20s and the gradual decline from sometimes 4 posts per month to now 1 or 2 if I even remember that I keep a blog... it occurs to me that perhaps I have less to say. This second third of my life marks a shift in how I think and how much I need to express, I am sure of that. Having pushed through to an era of introversion - making art, learning piano, and generally working from home because I no longer keep a job, I am unlikely to say anything to anyone for most of my day. I wonder about this as my art-making is also speechless, and as process is so important, it is all about being and doing. Contemplation feels more comfortable to me and the pressure to have answers and to fill silence with entertaining commentary hardly ever exists in my life anymore. <br />
<br />
I may be in a period of my life when I am best as a sponge for knowledge and experience as I realize how much broader the possibilities of life expand. In fact, I think that my past outspokenness may have been more a result of wanting to sound intelligent and take on importance so as not to somehow fall behind in the big American Way. Now I see that the American Way is just one of so many ways and I am under no obligation to participate nor exaggerate myself in order to get ahead. Get ahead of what? Ah, see there it is. The competitive edge is gone. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Pj_HwTtbSverphr-tNn8_SgXBK3kxx21LR2PN_o1hF6lhDycV4JqJe5ADMN3KT-mKQGJauCcr59HKUkL_EQk1FSGEgDcotVf-EIbelGl0LUQlrgV8HTY9l7oNS2Mv-aPq509JVYtR3U/s1600/haircut9-19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Pj_HwTtbSverphr-tNn8_SgXBK3kxx21LR2PN_o1hF6lhDycV4JqJe5ADMN3KT-mKQGJauCcr59HKUkL_EQk1FSGEgDcotVf-EIbelGl0LUQlrgV8HTY9l7oNS2Mv-aPq509JVYtR3U/s320/haircut9-19.JPG" width="320" /></a>Competition. Wanting to be better than others in as many ways. If I fill space with my thoughts and expressions, then I am taking that space away from you. I have it. You don't. Forgive me for being so elementary, but I do think that's how it started. So in the last three years or so, I've focused acutely on the task of self awareness and self love (starting around chaos time, 2013, with the tragic loss of 2 family members). I think I lacked self love mostly and my self awareness skills couldn't access why. Many realizations have taken place in this time, and this one, competition, having a competitive compulsion, had mostly fallen to "me against me." The "never enough" scenario simply does not recognize that one already possesses the abundance of life.<br />
<br />
And so, here I am, the sponge. I am spending more time than ever before as an observer, as a learner, as a practitioner, and as a creator. My day begins with a walk or a run with my sweet dog, Siga. I have breakfast and coffee. A day may include such introspective and quiet activities such as working on my art, reading, working in my garden, practicing Spanish, practicing piano, baking bread, various small or big cooking projects, and yoga. Sometimes I go hiking or to the art museum. Then I usually end the day with my husband and my dog and a comfortable winding down to bed time. As is evident, the need to push out into the world is no longer the driving force. Now I soak up the substance of my dreams and become who I've always wanted to be. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-27209612174034395852016-08-12T12:16:00.001-07:002016-08-12T12:30:04.449-07:00satisfying<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Except for the mandatory ad at the beginning (skip it!), yes, it does feel good to watch this:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="5" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Aq9uF6-Q4gU?rel=0" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
Must resist urge to dig out my calligraphy set from the 4th grade....<br />
<br />
Watching ink on paper, watching a steady hand, watching color and line become a harmonious mark and composition... these things are so satisfying for me. The same is true, for me, in watching someone run a race (I used to be a competitive runner and still run regularly) or just do something with elegant athleticism. I also love to see the making of woven material and the construction of just about anything is a thrill. <br />
<br />
Perhaps, at the very least, I should be making a stop action documentation of my cross stitch work. I finished work on the left half with Christian's profile over this past week. In beginning the profile of myself, I could document it each day and attempt to pull all the images together into a movie or slideshow. Even if the documentation is only for myself, I will probably enjoy watching it more than I realize. <br />
<a href="http://rebeccapeebles.com/installation/progress-report/" target="_blank">The stop action documentation of Progress Report, an artwork that I made in 2008 over 3 days' time, is still lovely to witness. </a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-70301166818338165522016-07-30T16:39:00.001-07:002016-07-30T16:48:22.409-07:00progress report (haiku)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTINJrk27-I1pzPw-II8wWfp7XYqRpHcSmDTuCxlCk8C57fRKeR1nkdWInS34plpnn4BylLM0YRQ1vqVfmsZ-lOAmiddRvoCBjdr8TxEyDTSKfeCjNJ6e0w1pTA3URS0IuZlfdAVzjsl8/s1600/IMG_3268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTINJrk27-I1pzPw-II8wWfp7XYqRpHcSmDTuCxlCk8C57fRKeR1nkdWInS34plpnn4BylLM0YRQ1vqVfmsZ-lOAmiddRvoCBjdr8TxEyDTSKfeCjNJ6e0w1pTA3URS0IuZlfdAVzjsl8/s640/IMG_3268.JPG" width="640" /></a>pixels to stitches</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
needle through and through again</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
spending time with him</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43f5ej7vPrvkYDruRpzujHu5qV8HRMuBm6tghHOb6aqPgBDoZm7Cqq0ybLODwA1I4f_N1fDHcvti8AbmFcuv3lzPXGKZYbmouwqLo1eXoiRtRcbOS-BjX3LC25hyAKsduftLGTp0BIrU/s1600/IMG_3264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43f5ej7vPrvkYDruRpzujHu5qV8HRMuBm6tghHOb6aqPgBDoZm7Cqq0ybLODwA1I4f_N1fDHcvti8AbmFcuv3lzPXGKZYbmouwqLo1eXoiRtRcbOS-BjX3LC25hyAKsduftLGTp0BIrU/s640/IMG_3264.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
custard buttercream </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
layered upside down fruit cakes </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
dessert-first party</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-29097076115511460562016-06-20T12:56:00.001-07:002016-06-20T12:56:13.998-07:00out of the studioWhenever I remember that I have a blog and I haven't written anything to contribute to it for a while... I try to remember why I keep the blog. The first thought that comes to mind is for the purpose of processing my art practice. In keeping this blog, I've wanted to have a forum for thinking through the work of making art, sharing and exploring whatever inspires my art-making and showing work in progress. <br />
<br />
Lately, my art practice has been only a few hours (if that) each day because it is late Spring and my garden's going nuts and there are berries on trees and bushes all over Denver that I need to pick for making tarts and jam, and the weather is perfect for bike rides.... <br />
<br />
Agnes Martin used to advise that young artists keep with the intuitive need to be out of the studio at times. My friend Alvin Gregorio also keeps with the idea that studio practice is not always in the studio and the art practice sometimes needs development via other exposures and creative work. There are certainly creative practices that happen all throughout my life! The garden is proof of that, and so is this Saskatoon berry tart: <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oXGiaY8bRYXxxRElRZZfT91qTtd4RCCX7K0CXAa2FCtHNWUSIDEJNDNKY339LsoThpaZpfbwlPY_5dTPPR0wmN9F_sBPSF4VuLqD2tfSkwrShmiS93_VJ6-AEyxeRtj8upWo3bMJYXg/s1600/saskatoon-tart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oXGiaY8bRYXxxRElRZZfT91qTtd4RCCX7K0CXAa2FCtHNWUSIDEJNDNKY339LsoThpaZpfbwlPY_5dTPPR0wmN9F_sBPSF4VuLqD2tfSkwrShmiS93_VJ6-AEyxeRtj8upWo3bMJYXg/s640/saskatoon-tart.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-28823400303335597862016-05-09T10:57:00.000-07:002016-05-09T10:57:33.536-07:00the wisdom of Mary Oliver<div>
I wanted to share this poem as an expression of gratitude for Mary Oliver, a sage poet, a woman who lives the life I imagine possible for any of us, but oft left unlived. I am inspired by all of her poetry, the accuracy of experience and feeling and experience and feeling. This poem in particular is about the inner experience, the willfulness we can muster to live... really live the lives we imagine for ourselves. Living out one's own essential life requires a struggle, even if just the effort to rise in the morning, against the mundanity and uniformity, which so often blocks our entry into the magical experience of being human.</div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevraPE6-RK0ku5udH5A78UtrdQZHM6hchtlTnkQUJi8GNJ6vAA-AuEb9-XFHs0Q48yl_eDiOyNpyNfgo_yCBBqGk34vrN9if1oQR3H0vYtlqwg7yfmefHik0r0ClB06dlQV_bn6Qa004/s1600/Mary-Oliver-young.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevraPE6-RK0ku5udH5A78UtrdQZHM6hchtlTnkQUJi8GNJ6vAA-AuEb9-XFHs0Q48yl_eDiOyNpyNfgo_yCBBqGk34vrN9if1oQR3H0vYtlqwg7yfmefHik0r0ClB06dlQV_bn6Qa004/s400/Mary-Oliver-young.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<div>
<i>The Journey</i> - Mary Oliver (from <u>Dreamwork</u>)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
One day you finally knew<br />what you had to do, and began,<br />though the voices around you<br />kept shouting<br />their bad advice – – –<br />though the whole house<br />began to tremble<br />and you felt the old tug<br />at your ankles.<br />‘Mend my life!’<br />each voice cried.<br />But you didn’t stop.<br /><br />You knew what you had to do,<br />though the wind pried<br />with its stiff fingers<br />at the very foundations – – –<br />though their melancholy<br />was terrible. It was already late<br />enough, and a wild night,<br />and the road full of fallen<br />branches and stones.<br /><br />But little by little,<br />as you left their voices behind,<br />the stars began to burn<br />through the sheets of clouds,<br />and there was a new voice,<br />which you slowly<br />recognized as your own,<br />that kept you company<br />as you strode deeper and deeper<br />into the world,<br />determined to do<br />the only thing you could do – – – determined to save<br />the only life you could save.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-23736797668732720722016-04-30T17:29:00.000-07:002016-04-30T17:29:25.731-07:00the inner criticMost people have voices in their head whether they are conscious of the voices or not. Obviously, hearing voices can become extreme for some to the point of neurosis or worse, schizophrenia, but I am referring to a normal inner dialogue as it flows through our thoughts. Sometimes we are not aware of the multiplicity within ourselves and we can be unknowingly influenced by thoughts (inner messages to ourself from ourself) such as judgements, biases, fears, obsessions. This is putting it quite simple and the matter is truly more complex, but I mean to address the inner voice of the critic. <br />
<br />
For myself, the inner critic showed up very early in my life (perhaps around the age of 6?), and represented a compass for finding acceptance from the world outside myself. I believe this is a common condition with children and young people wherein, we find that we can get through this world much easier if we can just find out what other people like, accept, enjoy, approve, and generally believe successful. These external influences collect into what Freud called the SuperEgo - the moral regulator! - and it's up to us to find out how those internalized impressions and expectations either work <i>for</i> us or <i>against</i> us. Each of us also has an unique internal orientation that works with or against the external orientation - altogether, our inner leanings and our outer parameters are the basis for our decisive powers. External orientation may work well within our family, school, and workplace but can fail us as we expand our connections and communities and begin to feel pulled in different directions without knowing which is right or best for us. Further, despite lack of practice with inner orientation, the inner knowing (call it "gut feelings," intuition, and at best, essential Self) is nevertheless <i>there. </i> Without our consciousness for it or choosing to engage this inner orientation into the authorship of our own life, we can feel tension as the external orientation of our Superego can conflict with our unique inner knowing.<br />
<br />
I am thinking of the ways in which, as an artist, I have resisted inclinations to make some kind of art because the inner critic (made up of external codes and voices from throughout my early life) hinted at some absurdity in my inclination. I think of all the times I have attempted to reach something deeper in my creative work and the difficulty and the unfamiliarity of the creative terrain raised red flags with the SuperEgo. I am halted in my exploration of my <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prima_materia" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">prima materia</a> as the part of me that has to "fit into the world" demands that I "use my time wisely" and focus on more practical skills. How does anyone <i>actually</i> engage in creative work, the response to exploring one's <i>prima materia, </i>if the conscious mind, oriented by conventional rules, does not permit opening the door to one's unconscious dwelling? <br />
<br />
I've been reading a selection of Carl Jung's essays regarding creativity, imagination and, of course, the work of psychoanalysis, and he speaks of the inner critic as a "cramp" in consciousness. Yes, I find that the inner critic (voicing, "Why am I doing this?" or "How is this weird work valuable in the 'real' world?" as I try to make my art) is most <i>definitely</i> a cramp! As with a cramp during exercise, we must learn to take care of the cramp in order to continue with our work. A cramp should not stop us from ever exercising again! Likewise, a mental cramp can not keep us from engaging with our irrational mind and thereby engaging our creative work. In discussing this matter with a musician the other day, he talked of practicing scales for as long as he needed in order to pass beyond the physical and practical work of it and begin to hear the potential for creating music. Artists may have to engage with the base material of their work for totally irrational amounts of time in order to achieve the alchemical potential that exists between themselves and their media. Meanwhile the Superego objects, "Spending 3 hours practicing music scales to <i>then</i> be able to compose?! Do we really have 5 hours to spend on music today?" The answer, for an artist of any kind is, irrationally, YES! <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrbnXSUpZMG03aQoV1p3bo3mdot4gcnxO1u4GtcscgRRSAGvwLhbLZiBK9feS-8oSkc6YPKHX7npZuJf3hLG5IjXWl0Tvr7AD5HAqljKNCKZlY7NIbF17KtOA157btyGcTAZNzgS4KrQ/s1600/cross-stitch-easel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrbnXSUpZMG03aQoV1p3bo3mdot4gcnxO1u4GtcscgRRSAGvwLhbLZiBK9feS-8oSkc6YPKHX7npZuJf3hLG5IjXWl0Tvr7AD5HAqljKNCKZlY7NIbF17KtOA157btyGcTAZNzgS4KrQ/s1600/cross-stitch-easel.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cross-stitch for months... and months... and so much time that the artwork becomes the time spent. My external rules of "using time wisely," the SuperEgo heckles me from my shoulder, "Why are you spending so much TIME on this project?!" and I have to think in response, because I am an artist, and this is my work.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Though seemingly an obvious idea, often a forgotten imperative of the artist is that <i>doing</i> creative work is of utmost importance to the artist. We forget how imperative the work is as the rational (industrial, capitalist, media driven) world opposes the irregular, irrational and costly work of art-making. How many conversations have I had with artists where they actually say, "I have to make my work. Otherwise, how would I <i>live</i>? I would die." It's not a matter of fitting into a schematic of practical use and monetization. It's a matter of realizing one's need to <i>work with</i> unconscious material (that which comes from within and does not follow the codes of the rational world) because otherwise, it would eventually mount up within us and consume us with it's energy. Better to engage with it regularly and make it workable and useful within the context of our creative work. The creative work then becomes the actualization of the whole person, the irrational material of the unconscious balanced by the systems and skill sets of the conscious ego.<br />
<br />
Some may believe that creative work is not about the actualization of the whole person and can exist in the realm of practical work. This is plausible, but I am not that artist. There are enough aesthetically designed objects in this world without my making my artwork so practical and prolific and commonly available in the lives of many (this practicality is the kind of resistance <i>my</i> Superego puts upon me). I find resonance in Jung's words, "Everything good is costly, and the development of personality [unique selfhood] is one of the most costly of all things. It is a matter of saying <i>yea</i> to oneself, of taking oneself as the most serious of tasks, of being conscious of everything one does, and keeping it constantly before one's eyes in all its dubious aspects - truly a task that taxes us to the utmost."<br />
<br />
The inner critic says, "The task is too much; we need not dive so deeply. There is plenty of creative work to do without going so far." But I willfully say, the work of the artist <i>is</i> to dive into the unconscious depths and trust that the inner critic can become instead the tether that keeps us connected with our conscious realm.<br />
<br />
All references to Jung's writing in this post are specific to an excerpt from <i>Alchemical Studies </i>(1929) (CW 13) pars. 17 - 45Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-69104181902263738622016-03-28T12:35:00.000-07:002016-03-28T12:40:45.299-07:00emerging avant garde?<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Having recently re-read my post <a href="http://www.rebeccapeebles.blogspot.com/2016/02/stillness.html" target="_blank"><i>stillness</i> from January,</a> it is truly wonderful to now read this commentary by Art Critic, Andrew Berardini. Instinctually, I know that the Art-professionalism-trend is a horrific distraction from art making and living artfully. Hence, struggling with pressure to become professional has always been... a struggle. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Perhaps there's more to think about regarding "professionalism" and taking oneself lightly? seriously? too seriously?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Once again, these rational terms compete with the abstract matter of art and with the often irrational nature of the working artist. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Read on: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://momus.ca/how-to-be-an-unprofessional-artist/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">HOW TO BE AN UNPROFESSIONAL ARTIST</span></a><br />
<a href="http://momus.ca/how-to-be-an-unprofessional-artist/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By Andrew Berardini</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://momus.ca/how-to-be-an-unprofessional-artist/" target="_blank">March 23, 2016</a></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">No one likes being called an amateur, a dilettante, a dabbler.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">“Unprofessional” is an easy insult.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">The professional always makes the right moves, knows the right thing to say, the right name to check. Controlled and measured, the professional never fucks the wrong person or drinks too much at the party. They never weep at the opening, never lay in bed for days too depressed, sick, broken to move. They say about the professional, “so easy to work with” or “so exacting but brilliant.” The professional takes advantage from every encounter, employs every new acquaintance as a contact, always hits the deadline. When asked about their work, they know what to say, a few lines of explanation sprinkled with enough filigreed intrigue to allude to abysses of research, the mysteries of making. They answer emails in minutes. Their PowerPoints are super crisp. Look at their website, so clean, so modern, so very pro.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">You don’t feel like any of these things.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">You are hungry, tired, overworked. You drank too much at the party and then slept with the wrong person, and then the really wrong person. You missed the deadline, it just thrushed past with a whoosh. Hustlers around you disappear into wealth and fame. Your dealer tells you to make more with red, those red ones are really selling. Maybe, she says, you make only the red ones for a while? Your student skips class to go to an art fair. The most pressing collectors are the ones holding your student loans. They keep calling, you wish you could trade them a drawing. It can take days to answer the simplest email. Your website, if it exists, is in shambles.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">You wander. You doubt. You change styles, media, cities. You experiment, you fail. Again. And again.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Unprofessional most literally means “below or contrary to the standards of a paid occupation.” Who makes the standards? Is everyone paid? Fairly? Is being an artist a job or something else? Who sets these standards? Do you wish to be standardized?</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Art and success.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">So easy to cocktail those two words together into “professionalism.” Pull up a famous artist’s CV and work from the beginning. Does success look like a sculpture plunked outside the Palace at Versaille? Is it a biennial, a prize, a blue-chip dealer? Is it the cover of a magazine, a thick, chunky retrospective catalogue? Even more evasive things just glanced, the luxury sedan like a bullet, shiny and hard, that the aging photographer bought after he dumped his smallish gallery and long-term partner, for a bigger dealer and a younger girlfriend, shiny and hard as his car; or perhaps, the off-hand mention of a domestic servant, a personal chef, the third nanny, the smallest chink in the opacity of wealth, so very far from the roaches scurrying in your kitchen sink and the fact that you’ve eaten nothing but mushed pumpkin and cigarettes for a month.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">This did not feel professional, but it’s true. These things you experienced to be an artist.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Your body of work is a mark of your passages, the richest of your thoughts and the deepest of your emotions. Simply manifesting this into art is hard enough, but today you feel like you need to be professional. The pressure and penury makes you nervous and cautious. What can you make that will take the iron of poverty from your flesh, that will make this feel less like a terrible mistake?</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Can’t you tell by my clothes I never made it</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Can’t you hear that my songs just won’t sing</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Can’t you see in my eyes that I hate it</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Wasting twenty long years on a dream.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Lee Hazlewood, “The Performer” (1973)</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Somehow making money makes us feel for real. Money we can trade for food and shelter, for time and space and materials to continue. These things are hard and pressing, but it’s not the money that makes us real. We are real already.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Everyone can be an artist, not because they have a degree or they sell, but because they live life artfully, with skill and imagination, freedom and awareness.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">But artists trade promissory notes and subsume authority into institutions for some outside validation. Proof to your beloveds they weren’t crazy in supporting you financially, emotionally, spiritually. Later, broke, you exchange dreams for money, or even, later yet, make other people’s dreams and trade those instead.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Collectors, they are really responding to the red ones.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">The path is clear for the professional. BFA, MFA, Commercial Gallery, Museum. 5 Things Every Artist Has to Know About Getting a Gallery. 10 Easy Tips for Killing Your Studio Visit. 3 Totally Simple Steps to Art Stardom. Mix in a teaching appointment perhaps, a grant here, a residency there.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">For the unprofessional, it isn’t so narrowly defined. As Charles Bukowski wrote, the shortest distance between two points is often intolerable.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">It’s not that artists shouldn’t be paid for their labor, but we ought to refuse the assignation of value and worth purely based on salability or the validation of institutions. Systems will always seek to swallow us. We must resist the efficiency of its gears with the softness of our humanity. Unprofessionalism is asserting our right to be human against this machine.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Fragile, weak, doubtful, bumbling, to be “unprofessional” is to simply be human. This does not mean acting without ethics, honesty, or basic kindness. These finer qualities can easily exist independent from how we trade our time for money.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Professionalism makes a person into a brand. The cynical think this has already happened: our slightest movement tracked for personalized advertisements, our declarations and photographs that we share with others all branded and branding, self-awareness as commerce. And though others can attempt to professionalize you, reduce your spirit to a slogan, a product, a logo, you do not have to do this to yourself.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">For the time being we live under capitalism, but we don’t have to be broken down into its systematic alienations, divisions, inequalities, of all value to market-value.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">In some ways, I was piqued to write this by <a href="http://www.artnews.com/2016/03/09/go-pro-the-hyper-professionalization-of-the-emerging-artist/" target="_blank">Daniel S. Palmer’s recent essay on hyper-professionalization just published in Artnews, which ends on an inspiring note: “In a moment of monotony and conformity, artists must reclaim their freedom.”</a></span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">He opens his essay with a young artist pitching a practised spiel, surrounded and over-handled by art pros. This fails miserably to impress Daniel Palmer. Obviously, being a professional in this sense doesn’t always work. It might have currency with those who are also hyper-professionalized like this particular emerging artist, churning through a system crafted for exactly such purposes. But it didn’t work with Daniel Palmer, and it wouldn’t work for me.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Such clear professionalism is crass, careerist, empty. Repulsive even. “Ambitious young artist” always sounded like an insult to me.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I see making art as the necessary expression of the human spirit. We all need to live, but when the acquisition of wealth becomes the primary endeavor, you are no longer an artist but a financier.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">More than a gallerist or a manager, a dealer or an advisor, a critic or a curator, more than an army of assistants and a clutter of collectors, an artist needs the courage to act alone and a community that makes such acts more bearable. One that allows us to be vulnerable, inappropriate, to go rogue, go wild, act weird, and fail.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">To be amateurs, dabblers, dilettantes.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">An amateur is filled with love beyond compensation, the dabblers fearlessly go places they don’t belong, the dilettantes happily lack the hidebound pretensions of experts. When we step out of the imposed confines of professionalism, we can be as open as students, able to flirt with other modes, to seek knowledge, experience, and value in our lives without limits.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Stripped away of institutional validation and the pressures of the market, we are free to be human, to be artists, to be unprofessional.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Copyright © Momus 2015</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-43124023912423346022016-03-19T12:46:00.002-07:002016-03-19T12:53:34.277-07:00symbolsDid I mention that I suffered a dog-bite on my hand a few days before Christmas? The purpose of pointing that out is that my hand was far less "on the team" then usual, and it was my right hand, so I began reading like I haven't read in years. When your creative productivity goes down, the need for another point of focus grows. The great thing is getting through to the blocked self-permit needed to allow myself the "luxury" of just sitting and reading! I love reading, and I'm glad to be back in the swing of it. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9sX15qemjbFdrHD_BspnKXZh5YVUOnJsgpUdkTzqgkUVpIjPy04yvuLR_yH6CIsIW7VbfefksD3yn1HKCW1A67Wnp_trIRNSja47jfvkrtWUNVxnXCisr29n59c3rs054iPocGhzopsU/s1600/books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9sX15qemjbFdrHD_BspnKXZh5YVUOnJsgpUdkTzqgkUVpIjPy04yvuLR_yH6CIsIW7VbfefksD3yn1HKCW1A67Wnp_trIRNSja47jfvkrtWUNVxnXCisr29n59c3rs054iPocGhzopsU/s400/books.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The books have been novels by Sara Gruen, Wally Lamb, and non-fiction by Marion Woodman, Judith Duerk, C. G. Jung and poetry by Mary Oliver.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4p6_NCc7jIrK_1thYhaOFlx8k173ljJREo0moIvWTIIrd4dwHOP-fih-uMO938Hu0m4M0W4H3HOcc19FDnK86iCWW-u09g7lMaZVxt9r5JL9wx6eVXmuTLzvPqcmyAZKe9OgLQPGsDsU/s1600/GruenWatersEdge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4p6_NCc7jIrK_1thYhaOFlx8k173ljJREo0moIvWTIIrd4dwHOP-fih-uMO938Hu0m4M0W4H3HOcc19FDnK86iCWW-u09g7lMaZVxt9r5JL9wx6eVXmuTLzvPqcmyAZKe9OgLQPGsDsU/s200/GruenWatersEdge.jpg" width="131" /></a>The strength and common thread through all of their writings has been the search for <i>self </i>and the attention to symbols for self knowing. Little by little, I turn further toward the importance of symbols in dreams, journaling and relationships, and my art becomes a more overt conduit for depicting and understanding those symbols. The critical thinking that takes shape through meditation (through art making) on a symbol or symbolic image is, what I'll <i>now</i> call (thanks Jung), alchemical. As in meditation, this thinking is non linear, abstract and holistic, but instead of using the process to check out, it seems there is an opportunity to check in. Over the years, my inability to intelligently express abstract ideas through verbal language played into a weakness of mine - fear of fraudulence and stupidity. In lieu of depicting what is bizarre, raw, abstract or confusing from my creative mind, I have protected myself (checked out) through organizing my art within public comfort zones, thus avoiding putting tender vulnerability on the "chopping block." To be honest, I think higher Ed for artists should specifically address and engage (check in) with this vulnerability, abstraction and confusion as much or MORE than it stresses professionalism and competitive, art-market stuff. <br />
<br />
So, being that I don't currently participate in the art market, who's doing the "chopping?" Inevitably, myself. And I'll say, I don't believe that my work up until the recent past was shallow or less important. There were courageous and bold efforts, personal expression and worthwhile risks to be applauded. I am especially glad to have made <a href="http://rebeccapeebles.com/performance/dependence-upon-initial-conditions-act-1/" target="_blank">artwork with and for a dance company</a>, made large, site specific installations, and to have learned to take A LOT of time on projects instead of pressuring myself to be prolifically productive. The difference then was that, even though the natural symbols and effects of myself came through in my projects, I wanted to express ideas that were related to life outside of me. Perhaps that was the framework for my art that seemed necessary in order to talk about it and share it with people, relating to what is more conventionally understood. I believe many of those works <i>started</i> as the more cryptic and personal visual language of my own ways and being. Then, much of the project was steered by my impressions of public perception and acceptance, leaving the initial abstract vision to be reformed and polished (Errr... chopped). <br />
<br />
Depicting abstract symbols of my psyche felt awkward and exposed. Does this relate to a college art critique wherein a peer student mocked my symbolic artwork (or so I <i>thought</i> he mocked my work)? I think that moment indicated to me that not only was I "weird" <i>outside</i> of the art world, but even amongst peers I was weird, and that felt like a chopping block. That moment did not end badly, my other peers and my professors weren't addressing my work that way, but, it did provoke a paranoia in me. I have always picked up on the comments and critiques of "art professionals" and I have been hung in the balance of "is it too weird?" "Is it weird <i>enough</i>?" and "Will they like it?"<br />
<br />
In contrast, Nikki Giovanni teaches her students to ask a question more like, "Do I like it and is it good enough for <i>me</i>?"<br />
<br />
The superego-boombox that I have long shouldered adopted that self-conscious and insecure perspective that tells you that others' impressions of your work come first and your personal journey is submissive to it. If others saw my work as weird or confusing, then I had to make my work more understandable or just minimal in aesthetic so that there were few overt symbolic messages. (I <i>do</i> love minimalism and my most minimal art has been a great relief and comfort to me.) If someone whom I respected as an artist/art professional made a dismissive remark regarding some symbol or symbolic imagery that feels important to me, I would adopt that dismissive thinking and the superego would remark, "yes, now you know where to draw the line with your vulnerability." <br />
<br />
An artist peer of mine once groaned, "Ugh! Self portraits!" with a grossed out expression. I have no idea why she would be dismissive and repulsed by self portraiture - perhaps it is too often a mode of self expression which is difficult to face? <a href="http://rebeccapeebles.com/installation/co-incidence/" target="_blank">At that time, I was courageously making more self portraits, including much symbolism otherwise</a>, and I immediately felt I had to keep my current work "mum." Thankfully, I did not keep mum beyond our conversation, but her words and expression goaded me, confirming my Superego's fearful message, "yes, keep it to yourself."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguPx0YcYVYE4v7uJharJ72rEGT2MgbThpCM9OZgya8BfRTLMdwzuwrAwAyV-qxgoXvHsXP4aOxP80ab14fv8Mx1W_ZN46FUoQ2wLuDarEXM9a3700ufq55sKrTsPtymus3dgHHZeYzhU/s1600/co-incidence-self1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguPx0YcYVYE4v7uJharJ72rEGT2MgbThpCM9OZgya8BfRTLMdwzuwrAwAyV-qxgoXvHsXP4aOxP80ab14fv8Mx1W_ZN46FUoQ2wLuDarEXM9a3700ufq55sKrTsPtymus3dgHHZeYzhU/s640/co-incidence-self1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was my first artwork after chaos time (see below), also a first effort at grandly portraying personal symbolism. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
Keeping it to oneself - a harsh contrast to the creative self, the artist. So here's the thing that springs up in me as my new tour de force in life: It's YOU, it's YOURs, it's BEING and it's HUMAN. The social structure that was set up for you was not what you needed in order to make YOUR ART. <br />
<br />
Chaotic events occurred in my life (yes, chaos, like murder and death), which brought me to the bottom and to the darkest place. In that depth I realized, there's no time to lose, there's no other life to live, there's no need to succumb to any program for life other than my own intuitive and real desires. Making my artwork can and does reflect all of this. <br />
<br />
Carl Jung points out that when we shine a light onto our shadow, we find darkness, and that is rightfully so. <br />
<br />
Ever since (what I've usually called) the chaos time, there has been a slow, subversive energy and thought process that has recently become more the leader as I engage life and art. I've learned to temper the superego with intuition and allow abstract thinking/feeling it's rightful role in my art making. Symbolism, which has always been apparent to me, even when suppressed or confusing, now regains it's rightful role in my art-making and in my self-making.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3k_SYVACoh4Wfitt4OiT8XlZO9kpg1SOB-gqk0b7NtR16_Ppuikcr6K_UUe90j51U2UAamBa_v4zokrqmf2RAGccI8y5PmR2LNz0-5uGstfh5iKWhyphenhyphenxD2SQg1_QdGsqfvP1CKlYPyGHc/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3k_SYVACoh4Wfitt4OiT8XlZO9kpg1SOB-gqk0b7NtR16_Ppuikcr6K_UUe90j51U2UAamBa_v4zokrqmf2RAGccI8y5PmR2LNz0-5uGstfh5iKWhyphenhyphenxD2SQg1_QdGsqfvP1CKlYPyGHc/s640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very recent watercolor/drawing, an effort to play into the stream of consciousness and allow whatever comes up. Much like dream analysis, I can look at the image after the fact and see or follow clues from the subconscious mind.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-59652095113926210542016-02-29T12:43:00.000-08:002016-03-15T16:58:16.090-07:00Poem for ordinary time<div style="text-align: left;">
Looking out over the sky, you are.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Looking down into my lap, through my hair</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
shining in the sunlight, too bright to see</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
heating my back through black shirt.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Keeping our faces shaded</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
squinting briefly toward the sky.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Listening to the motors</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
cars or motorcycles or whatever</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the passing of tires on the road</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the dog's lips smack</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
a single bird's... not a song, not a noise</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
only</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the sound a bird makes.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Pacing</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and looking out.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Sitting</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
and looking in.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
un moving through the moments</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
no ticking of any clock</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
stillness</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
marred by progress</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
anxiety of all the All</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Looking back into the sunshine in my hair</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the dog's curious nose at my back</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
glowing, streaking threads</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
listen, sniffing curiosity</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As the jet flies over,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
the dog growls.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He knows something's no good.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Don't we all?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We don't.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He patters away to look after you.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-15581798916145274352016-02-25T11:00:00.000-08:002016-02-25T11:03:14.611-08:00cross-stitching-again-again-again-again-again-again-again<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Lp_eed8sY8rdBFsDL8OVWxktPQPvGi60EUyckhDsd9FHXZOSXVphoBHiveORfaVB7lJgmGQgSQU3yy2yc-s9gA7ojDKBS-4WuaS_ccr1WgmDK1EK2N-2kKjvXjlSaHUxpQw2dgm8CeI/s1600/IMG_2770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Lp_eed8sY8rdBFsDL8OVWxktPQPvGi60EUyckhDsd9FHXZOSXVphoBHiveORfaVB7lJgmGQgSQU3yy2yc-s9gA7ojDKBS-4WuaS_ccr1WgmDK1EK2N-2kKjvXjlSaHUxpQw2dgm8CeI/s400/IMG_2770.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
spending time<br />
again<br />
with thread and needle<br />
with my face<br />
and yours<br />
spending time<br />
again<br />
and again<br />
<br />
resisting the restlessness<br />
exploring ordinary<br />
time<br />
with my self<br />
and you<br />
and the thread<br />
and the needle<br />
and the tiny<br />
moments<br />
and the meditation on<br />
each pixel<br />
a stitch<br />
another stitch<br />
<br />
yours<br />
and mine<br />
<br />
and everything in between<br />
the fabricAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-54403766395311018642016-02-12T14:56:00.000-08:002016-03-28T12:22:14.211-07:00stillnessI just got off the phone with a <a href="http://bit.ly/1GTgjoZ" target="_blank">podcast, On Being with Krista Tippett interviewing Pico Iyer</a>. I had never heard of this man, but apparently, he's friends with some of my favorite knowns such as the Dalai Lama and Leonard Cohen. He also lives in a very remote, mostly off the grid home in Kyoto and has a place in the US as well where he works in almost solitude on writing and thinking. In this interview, he spoke of how in his twenties he became very successful - in the American fashion - as a journalist in NYC. By "American fashion," I mean the fast paced, forward moving, self aggrandizing, never enough conventions that I know I, myself, grew up believing was my ticket to... Gosh, I'm not sure what I thought the ticket was for! So then, at 29 he hit a wall, knew he needed something less like "distraction" and more like "attention," and embarked on a career of solitude, stillness and the resulting writings about his evolving philosophies on those human <i>rights</i>.<br />
<br />
Wow Wow Wow. <br />
<br />
I am so relieved as I contemplate what I just listened to. (....and of course there was more to it than stillness and solitude, so really, <i><a href="http://bit.ly/1GTgjoZ" target="_blank">have a listen</a></i>.) The reason I feel relieved is that recently, I've uncovered in myself that convention of "fast-paced-forward-moving-self-aggrandizing-never-enough" and found it to be terribly uncomfortable and something from which I'd like to be <i>free</i>. Having been convinced throughout my adolescence and young adulthood (via parent, church, school, and community norms and direction) that this American "way" is The Way, it's been a struggle with my SuperEgo to realize that it's not the only director in my psyche, but there are other players who not only have a critical voice, but have to be acknowledged and tended to. Those other players have abstract names that are only relevant to me (the voices in my head - as <i>they</i> say), but for this format, I'll call them, Intuition, Wisdom, Feeling, and Myth. (Some other time, perhaps I'll explain more about why I label them this way. I'll say though that Myth, to me, is not "a lie" but instead, the story of Human kind, overarching <i>humanness</i>.) Iyer talks about the knowing of one's self, the inner life as a human need and of course, despite the prevailing conventions, doing this inner work of self discovery is the foundational work to support all of our outer work and relationships.<br />
<br />
So, this describes, for me, what the previous year was unfolding for me - a gradual shift into becoming a person who spends the majority of my time doing inner work. Throughout the year, I felt great resistance from Superego when Intuition and Feeling were my primary focus. Superego tried to distract me with chores and false obligations, but little by little, I noticed my own Wisdom, and she reminded me, in my own way, that Intuition and Feeling are really the Me that deserves to live as part of the great Myth. Superego still pipes up with a shaming sensation as I lose track of time, allow myself to be completely absorbed in my art or music, or simply do not apply my creative skill sets toward a recognizable "career." How sad, the shame that I (via Superego) feel or didn't want to feel was the unconscious motivator for my "success" and propulsion through professional realms.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoilT9qPLT29OwkqzlRgfIeEW6a6MggDwAywJbZjisDlcxFN6y0CNQZajFdkgqrqakHJoTK7K-Sh1mNFIN5-b1W6yLDbqp1bVS3ZYOH5aJU1cPc65_9gYhyXSFfcte6g1Xdmdi9_E8Bc/s1600/breathe4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoilT9qPLT29OwkqzlRgfIeEW6a6MggDwAywJbZjisDlcxFN6y0CNQZajFdkgqrqakHJoTK7K-Sh1mNFIN5-b1W6yLDbqp1bVS3ZYOH5aJU1cPc65_9gYhyXSFfcte6g1Xdmdi9_E8Bc/s400/breathe4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remembering Art made almost a decade ago when, however unconsciously, I decided my art-making is a vehicle for my stillness. This painting, Breathing Room, was a real-time transcription of my breathing on a giant canvas. I gave myself permission to do this work in stillness and solitude, and now too, I give myself permission - but consciously.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Without continuing down the long road of discussing SuperEgo, I'll bring this back to Pico Iyer's talk about the necessity of solitude and stillness as means toward attention (AKA awareness), and point out the big affirmation that I felt while listening: I have <u>permission</u> - Intuition granted, Wisdom granted and Myth granted <i>permission to be still as long as you need. </i>Up until 2015, I naturally possessed the Intuition, Feeling, Wisdom and Myth that I am now choosing to acknowledge and embody, but the hard-lined conventions of Superego steered against my right to know, legitimize and activate these players. 2015 was just the beginning of realizing true inner needs and the metamorphosis into a life of stillness that more thoroughly honors, reveals and empowers my essential being. My creative survival and my art depend on this kind of stillness.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-13396838048444069632016-01-18T10:11:00.000-08:002016-01-18T10:11:45.118-08:00print makingMaking prints, as in, print-making was one mode of art-making that hooked me when in college. Maybe it was my personable, inspiring and empowering professor, Jack. Perhaps it was the satisfying repeatability of the images - if anyone takes a look at my <a href="http://www.rebeccapeebles.com/" target="_blank">website</a> or elsewhere in this blog, it is obvious that I will repeat an action, a process, or an image/symbol for a very long time (I am also a long distance runner and can make gnocchi or tamales for hours). While printing with Mark Lunning at the Art Students League of Denver for the past few months, it has also become apparent to me that this art media is offering me an immediacy that is helpful in keeping up momentum with my art working. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGEZV_uWCV8p4ietRVidTa9mJvaBxC9_HR8jo62lTLJu8s4xLSBTxGVkk-8Q0j6WICEc5nCuK8b1aRy07gMwY0tboM1Wg_hp85VmN8kjVtl7qGR9W_0ForNNnuNyD7UpvPAVWwM5NaLkA/s1600/blog-print1sm.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGEZV_uWCV8p4ietRVidTa9mJvaBxC9_HR8jo62lTLJu8s4xLSBTxGVkk-8Q0j6WICEc5nCuK8b1aRy07gMwY0tboM1Wg_hp85VmN8kjVtl7qGR9W_0ForNNnuNyD7UpvPAVWwM5NaLkA/s640/blog-print1sm.jpeg" width="491" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Let me elaborate on this issue of momentum. For about 3 - 5 years, I've been making epic projects. I will diligently work on the same project for 5 - 12 months. The vision, drawings, technical planning, acquisition of materials and summoning courage to really begin may take 2 - 3 months. Then the various phases of repetition (mind you, this isn't tedium to me and I'm <i>not</i> bored) - whether it be dying fabric, sometimes dying it again, and again, measuring and cutting fabric and measuring, sewing, measuring, sewing, sewing, measuring, seam ripping, sewing, seam ripping, measuring, cutting, sewing, measuring, and so on and so on (oh I forgot all the pressing and the organizing and referring back to the drawing from months ago). There's even more to this and then more steps for finishing. I am more or less describing the piecework that I do (I don't actually quilt - <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/quilt" target="_blank">see definition</a>), but the epic process is very similar for my <a href="http://rebeccapeebles.com/flat-works/spending-time/18434752" target="_blank">cross-stitch projects</a> and other media that I've worked with over time. And here's what I'll say about momentum: At about 2/3 of the way into the process, I usually come up against this big feeling of non-productivity because I don't yet have the product of so much labor. I think this is an American psychological hang-up - being productive means rolling out and showing off a lot of products, and having news about what you're doing because there's "always something new!" About 3 years ago I got really clear with myself and decided to turn against the contemporary American way with my art-making. I don't actually care to be prolifically productive with my artwork (what will I DO with all of that work anyway? I also get grossed out by the art-market and choose not to participate, so I really don't need a lot of "inventory"). I prefer an art making experience that is more like the culinary movement, slow-food. ...but even slow food has an amuse bouche carefully added in along the way to refresh the palette and liven up the pace.<br />
<br />
Lesson learned: Commit to the long haul, and find ways to keep up the creative motivation along the way.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-89642268344131924762016-01-15T13:13:00.001-08:002016-01-15T13:15:42.308-08:00haiku excuse<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67TaLq7tEqDv0e3A_0g-EAa3AbTh6WOkdP-jBuxHAd-K3FTgQS0Qcp-jsMin8LMh30x_t1K-lRN9w9zClJriKaESWEnzBZyepa4C8uz5gczS_pgARdTUBBYR2TDkoTq28wOb3k_7QinU/s1600/IMG_2653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67TaLq7tEqDv0e3A_0g-EAa3AbTh6WOkdP-jBuxHAd-K3FTgQS0Qcp-jsMin8LMh30x_t1K-lRN9w9zClJriKaESWEnzBZyepa4C8uz5gczS_pgARdTUBBYR2TDkoTq28wOb3k_7QinU/s320/IMG_2653.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and less piano keyboard time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
infected dog bite<br />
right middle finger "sore thumb"<br />
less typing these daysAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-18313815798852015802016-01-04T10:19:00.001-08:002016-01-04T10:19:52.688-08:00bridge2015,<br />
Thank you for building this bridge with me. <br />
2016 will be building the next bridge with me. <br />
I have much gratitude for everything that we learned together. <br />
I will carry the lessons in my heart. <br />
Thank you for generously giving me every minute of your time.<br />
I will carry that generosity with my gratitude.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7GO7Ktz19skWZBOuejeqqdrOnTaWHM04e4gdyvwPx96IJ6xx5SyfuU4b8O6nXLo_s0_ZyBcUWKu43YehMe7fNG4JGnentoDbiIg3GpHzfYsSFOb5-LMTITZ0-lPoUnROsdXO6389vk0/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25282%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7GO7Ktz19skWZBOuejeqqdrOnTaWHM04e4gdyvwPx96IJ6xx5SyfuU4b8O6nXLo_s0_ZyBcUWKu43YehMe7fNG4JGnentoDbiIg3GpHzfYsSFOb5-LMTITZ0-lPoUnROsdXO6389vk0/s640/FullSizeRender+%25282%2529.png" width="640" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-89171542996067987272015-12-04T15:03:00.000-08:002015-12-04T15:03:34.301-08:00Hokusai Says<h3 style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19.11px; line-height: 20.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 18px 14px 3px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px;">a poem by Roger Keyes</span></h3>
<h3 style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19.11px; line-height: 20.475px; margin: 0px; padding: 18px 14px 3px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc; font-size: 13.65px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20.475px;">Hokusai says look carefully.</span></h3>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">He says pay attention, notice.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">He says keep looking, stay curious.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;">Hokusai says says there is no end to seeing</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">He says look forward to getting old.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">He says keep changing,</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;">you just get more who you really are.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">He says get stuck, accept it, repeat</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">yourself as long as it is interesting.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">He says keep doing what you love.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;">He says keep praying.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">He says every one of us is a child,</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">every one of us is ancient</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;">every one of us has a body.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">He says every one of us is frightened.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">He says every one of us has to find</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">a way to live with fear.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;">He says everything is alive --</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">shells, buildings, people, fish,</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">mountains, trees, wood is alive.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;">Water is alive.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Everything has its own life.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">Everything lives inside us.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">He says live with the world inside you.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;">He says it doesn't matter if you draw,</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">or write books. It doesn't matter</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">if you saw wood, or catch fish.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;">It doesn't matter if you sit at home</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">and stare at the ants on your veranda</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">or the shadows of the trees</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">and grasses in your garden.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;">It matters that you care.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">It matters that you feel.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">It matters that you notice.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;">It matters that life lives through you.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Contentment is life living through you.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">Joy is life living through you.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Satisfaction and strength</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9ead3;">is life living through you.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;">He says don't be afraid.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">Don't be afraid.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #ead1dc;">Love, feel, let life take you by the hand.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Let life live through you.</span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: none; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.65px; line-height: 20.475px; padding: 1px 14px 8px 20px; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white;">~ Roger Keyes</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-76621580509567096852015-11-30T12:36:00.000-08:002015-11-30T12:36:35.812-08:00head in the (lavender) cloudsA few weeks ago, I said, <a href="http://rebeccapeebles.blogspot.com/2015/11/the-artists-assertion.html" target="_blank">"I desired my own creative spotlight on my own life's main stage." </a><br />
<br />
I'm realizing, via the duality (even more than two aspects) of the self, that I am the performer and the audience (and the critic). I am the voice and the listener (and the editor). I am the creator and the beloved (and the destructive). From a jungian point of view, one of these aspects of self may grow to become stronger than the others. For me, it has been the self that is critic, editor and destructive. It has been a path of self disregard in my art-making and avoiding the embodiments of voice, ear, hand, heart, dance, and the body that <i>feels</i> the result of these embodiments.<br />
<br />
Seven years ago, when I first arrived in Denver, I met a man who, after we had become friends, told me he has intuitive abilities. Because he was exploring this ability as a second career, he asked if he could practice with me as the subject. I gladly obliged. I've always loved hearing about myself and thinking about myself! He said many great and grave things about me as we sat facing each other with our eyes closed. He didn't describe my history or my future and he didn't ask questions other than to ask if what he was saying sounded familiar to me. He described visions that he could see in and around my body. One of the most poignant that has stayed with me since then was his description of a misty, lavender cloud around my head that was creative energy. He spoke of my brain holding a sharp and perfect diamond, a representation of my honed and perfected intellect. He told me that the creative aura was meant to be embodied, but as long as the diamond continued to be my priority, that separation would remain between my body and the creative. <br />
<br />
My head, my rationality, my intellect, my ego - the diamond - all of these things are so highly valued in the world, but perhaps these as foundation are flimsier than we understand and keep us from living a wholehearted existence. I am fearful of letting any other aspect of myself guide me and direct my work because the intuitive, creative essence may be perceived as wild and chaotic. The reality is, as long as I focus on the diamond, which needs no more perfecting, I forget the heart, the body, the soul, the spirit, the unknowing knower, the Intuitive that is me. What may be perceived as wild and chaotic is, in fact, the creative self, the one who knows without knowing<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgriGEsAu2532wbyRc1rqEubuZ40_t-UOSrsF9M_ptM-mk37auILi_bSKg8albwxzYhEUlmGAD7GGf56Q2idj0q8WCxULlk7fSTJd1zoGDHo5RdMGtqCOan4k9t_WPkn_9bRO5_XzdL3E/s1600/intuitive-creator-me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgriGEsAu2532wbyRc1rqEubuZ40_t-UOSrsF9M_ptM-mk37auILi_bSKg8albwxzYhEUlmGAD7GGf56Q2idj0q8WCxULlk7fSTJd1zoGDHo5RdMGtqCOan4k9t_WPkn_9bRO5_XzdL3E/s640/intuitive-creator-me.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
R<a href="http://bit.ly/1pmZ4mB" target="_blank">ecently, I listened to an inspiring interview between Krista Tippett (interviewer of radio show/podcast On Being) and Artist - self titled, Maker, Ann Hamilton</a>. Ms Tippett said that it is "humanizing when we rediscover [needlepoint, knitting, hand-crafts, etc.]" in a discussion with Ann Hamilton about her work as a textile artist. Ms. Hamilton talks about it as "embodied knowledge." The making, the putting on of the hands and trusting one's intuition to make the thing that exists from somewhere inside you, this is a kind of knowing. It is not revered in our society's traditions because it is not cerebral. Unfortunately, we can get stuck in the process of art-making at that moment when we realize we are in the body and not in the head. Ann Hamilton discusses this as the moment when we "give it away" because it is not understood, we couldn't complete the work, it was impossible to describe or prove. </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 20.48px;">[W]hen you’re making something, you don’t know what it is for a really long time. So, you have to kind of cultivate the space around you, where you can trust the thing that you can’t name. And, if you feel a little bit insecure, or somebody questions you, or you need to know what it is, then what happens is you give that thing that you’re trying to listen to away. [S]o how do you kind of cultivate a space that allows you to dwell in that — not knowing, really[?] That [which] is actually really smart. And can become really articulate. But, you know, like the thread has to come out, and it comes out at its own pace.</span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #222222; line-height: 20.48px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">[my edits]</span></span></blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In this interview (<a href="http://bit.ly/1pmZ4mB" target="_blank">please listen</a>!), I find that Krista Tippett and Ann Hamilton are describing the wild and the chaos that I fear, but they are describing it in much more humble and settled reality. I have felt anxious about releasing into my creative power because I have worried that the power would hit me like a tidal wave! In reality, I am already doing the work that is the wild and the chaos and it is as quiet as I need it to be so that I can breathe the wildness and relax into the realm of unknowing. I am making quilts by which I immerse myself in color and repetition and process. I am making cross-stitch images that offer me time for intense meditation and thinking. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Regarding this realization about the wild as quiet and the chaos as freedom, this is what Tippet and Hamilton's discussion has left with me: </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>The work has to come at its own pace. </li>
<li>When the articulation hasn't yet come and it's too early to define the work, cultivate the space around it and protect the unknowing.</li>
<li>Dwell in the not-knowing and resist giving it away before you come to know how to articulate. </li>
<li>Believe that your embodied knowledge (the knowledge of the senses and of the soul) has authority.</li>
<li>The wilderness is medicine, chaos offers freedom, and neither were ever in effect to harm.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
</blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861392510703842895.post-56111769989369383652015-11-19T09:59:00.002-08:002015-11-30T10:06:17.144-08:00the artist's assertionIn thinking about this past year, I see it as a year of regaining a stronghold on my personal desires and activating a listening ear to my own intuition. What of a person's desires? I'm realizing it's possible to live decades of one's life aspiring to the desires (sometimes demands) of others, of societal norms, of institutions - all the while putting one's own desires aside or behind in priority. Add to that the lack of attention (at least in American, East coast, protestant tradition) given to identifying and valuing one's own intuition. <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-intuitive-compass/201108/what-is-intuition-and-how-do-we-use-it" target="_blank">Intuition, that inner knowing that percolates, converses and sometimes screams as the counterpart to rational logic takes a back seat and often just gets left on the side of the road in our thinking and feeling</a>. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiabtKBsGt7Q24l9nh0BhpsUXVGujiau9vulBF2s04AiGw0vHYXTB1AGdPCDRer8ltNft0lp4v4yDi3u6HJ__srZdpjA6nNkTeJBisK1pcVl0oNL8xRCmgkeOzarnPHxxnAgfIOWjBEWpo/s1600/intuition-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiabtKBsGt7Q24l9nh0BhpsUXVGujiau9vulBF2s04AiGw0vHYXTB1AGdPCDRer8ltNft0lp4v4yDi3u6HJ__srZdpjA6nNkTeJBisK1pcVl0oNL8xRCmgkeOzarnPHxxnAgfIOWjBEWpo/s640/intuition-.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most complete critical thinking and authentic living comes from a balance of intuition and the rational mind.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I believe I have had a strong intuition since childhood. I relate these natural emotive and sensory driven gut feelings to experiencing fulfillment, self-direction, clear thinking, creative work, and relationships. When I have ignored or put aside my intuition (as a way of fitting in, as a way of staying in a rational mode, because I feel like a weirdo - the only one feeling this way), I have suffered disappointments, felt confused or disoriented, and have spent much time, sometimes decades feeling the consequences of pushing a good friend aside.<br />
<br />
This has been a critical topic in sessions with my therapist, and I have regained a sense of confidence and belief in that beautiful and wise, old woman who resides in my soul, Intuition. <br />
<br />
I bring this up in this forum because, as an artist, the intuitive voice is a critical component of the creative work that I do. I could talk extensively about my thoughts on intuition and self realization and the part these play (or not) in contemporary artists' work, but I decline that unintelligible rant because it's sometimes upsetting enough for me to lose all verbal acuity. It's upsetting mostly because of my own habitual ignorance to intuition within my creative work and the American Higher Ed's lack of attention given to developing one's intuitive guide in creative work. And that's what I really mean to get at: the intuitive voice as guide in the creative work - from the choice to place blue here, and red there to the choice to make a collection of drawings depicting my dreams (a brave undertaking). Seems simple stating it like that, but conversely, when the intuitive voice is ignored or weak, creative work may focus mainly on pleasing professors, making art that sells, making art that's safe for conservative audiences, or just making the same art for years because the first time we made it, enough people "just LOVED it." Am I talking about myself? yes. And despite making work that I still think was good work, I neglected to make even more work that was important to me. I dismissed ideas as too weird, too personal and instead focused on ideas that fit better into the popular program of design and art-making. Even now, I still put others' desires ahead of mine and often find ways to put my creative work (which my intuition is calling me to do) behind what I think are my responsibilities to others. I would go so far as to say that the 3 year project called, GroundSwell Gallery became a way of ignoring my own desire to make art in order to fulfill others' aims to exhibit art. It was good work, and I am glad to have had the experiences and relationships from that chapter of my life, but... admittedly, I desired my own creative spotlight on my own life's main stage. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3kECTxIS5qRdvGqkBTK2XSv9753z5QP5jJGWJQF_qGFDNr4t4EjH36onw31anfNrtKjyCgUgKQrGyr-x1mdb_I-EVOLEZPmVxbeGEnRm5RI7rF9Pi3V7pP3NWC_jXL4YNGr5lf2a2Lg/s1600/Siga-MtRosalie-summit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3kECTxIS5qRdvGqkBTK2XSv9753z5QP5jJGWJQF_qGFDNr4t4EjH36onw31anfNrtKjyCgUgKQrGyr-x1mdb_I-EVOLEZPmVxbeGEnRm5RI7rF9Pi3V7pP3NWC_jXL4YNGr5lf2a2Lg/s320/Siga-MtRosalie-summit.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who wouldn't put this adorable animal first? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Questions about self direction, career, calling, purpose all came up along the way in this year of separation from all things past (we closed the gallery, left another long-held job, built and then moved into a new house, got a dog, etc.). Despite my intuition's percolating doubt, I tried on the Real Estate professional's shoes, I considered exhibiting in local galleries, I poured myself into training my dear dog, and found numerous other ways to fill my time... whilst my desire to make art was placed to the side and the creative work was left undone. It seems that even quitting jobs and wiping the slate clean can still lead to two choices: 1. reforming the same behaviors of self diminishment and avoiding creative work or 2. forming <i>new</i> behaviors that respond to the intuitive voice that's been speaking all along - i.e. listen to the beckoning intuition that says, "Make your art now. this is your chance to do it for yourself. You have that freedom." <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Perhaps I begin a meditation practice whereby I repeat such assertive words to myself: <br />
<br />
I am making my art now. <br />
I possess the opportunity to do this for myself. <br />
I am free.<br />
<br />
(repeat)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01095917488716957275noreply@blogger.com0