cheese cave!

cheese cave!

Originally uploaded by Ms. Pants

 

thoughts on the wind

Over the holiday downtime, I found a poem tacked up on the community board at a coffee shop. It was about Christmas time and had a somewhat dark approach to the whole thing. I liked it and took it home with me. It’s taped into a journal of mine now.

Since then, I’ve been inundated with fleeting thoughts about a project involving community boards. I’d like to leave thoughts presented in an artsy manner on community boards at coffee shops, etc. for others to find/take. I don’t know if they should be tracked or not. I don’t even know if anyone would care. Should I put my address on them? (Blog or email, not physical.) Are there rules to this?

I’ve been doodling on scraps of paper this past weekend. A friend was in town and while we were sitting at a coffee shop, watching movies at home, or whatever, I doodled on scraps. In the center of some, I wrote little messages. Some were just little encouragements, others were passing thoughts that I had. I wrote this address on the back of them but I don’t even know if that’s necessary.

I want to put out art and thoughts (thart?) into the world and hope that it inspires others or maybe just makes their day a little bit better. A cynical side of me thinks this is ridiculous and that it really just borders on littering. How many other people out there pick up found art like I do? And in the long run, does it even matter? Isn’t it the process that’s most important?

 

it takes acquired mind to taste this wine: lessons learned in 2008

Okay, here we go!

To recap: Rather than resolutions for a new year (which I find to be an exercise in failure), I make a list at the end of each year pointing out the lessons I learned in the previous 12 months. Sometimes the lessons are repeats, sometimes they’re entirely new realisations. Mine for 2008 are below. I’d love to see lists from others!

Time seems to travel at an increasing rate not necessarily proportional to the rate at which I age.
I remember adults ranting about this when I was a kid; that time just flies like whoa. I thought the adults were deluded at the time because I couldn’t wait for whatever-upcoming-event to get here. (Usually, it was the present-opening kind of events.) Now I find myself amazed at how quickly time flashes by. I also find it rather terrifying. I often feel like I’m racing some not-so-mythical clock in order to complete a completely unknown list of things that may, but will probably not, give me some semblance of satisfaction. And also, the idea of death makes me soil myself. Slow down, please!!

Death knows I’m scared. And Death is fucking with me.
Seriously. 2008 was the Year of the Salmon Mousse, I swear. (Kudos to the .03 of you that picked up on that.) I lost my beloved Bel (yesterday was a year), which still kicks me in the gut on a regular basis. My best friend lost her father, which affected me more than I anticipated it would. My grandfather finally, mercifully conceded (and fuck you, Alzheimer’s!) in his own battle. A friend of mine had to take up her own battle ax again to fight for her life. (I’m desperately hoping she defeats the fucker again.) People all around me were similarly affected. Death is everywhere, and there are flies on the windscreen. (Maybe they like the salmon mousse?)

Don’t fuck him drunk if he wouldn’t fuck you sober.
Pretty self-explanatory, really. And in most cases where this should be implemented, best to just forego fucking him entirely. I need to reiterate this rule to myself on a regular basis. (And for the record, I didn’t lapse.)

About my love for and satisfaction with my day job? I lied.
Not intentionally, but I realised recently that I’ve really been fooling myself about this day job thing. It pays the bills (mostly) but it’s not fulfilling. In fact, I’m starting to find it more and more demeaning and I’m definitely not doing nearly as well as I could be because I just don’t care. Being an admin is kinda like being a personal toilet for others. It’s work that I can do well when I apply myself but I find there’s very little motivation to do so. I live in fear of being fired thanks to a very abusive ex-boss and a current one who is moodier than my father. Moodier.Than.My.Father. An impossible feat, I thought–I wished! The day job is the steady paycheck and therefore I cannot afford to quit in this current spectacular economy, but I really would like to focus on art full time. I’ve been successfully deluding myself that the day job is okay because it gives me time to do what I love at night. The reality check has been a very heavy burden to bear, emotionally.

I am an artist. I am also a writer.
Seems like a no brainer, eh? But I’ve had a difficult time declaring myself as such because I’d never been really recognised as such in a public, artistic forum. It’s an illogical argument for sure but also one I’ve rectified this year with the help of Via Colori. Part of my difficulty in calling myself an artist is that I always thought of myself as a writer; however, I’ve always also had insecurities about showing my writing in a public forum because it’s so personal and raw. I used to describe it as pieces of my soul. How do you just send out pieces of your soul to some overworked, underpaid, disgruntled editor who won’t really get the symbolism anyway? How do you deal with a rejected piece of soul? It doesn’t translate to the general public quite like visual art does. But I also know that I can be both and it’s okay. It just turns out that the writing is more for me, while the art translates better to the masses.

Parts of me are possibly contagious.
Relax. I’m not talking open sores. I’m talking punning and creativity. I find that people around me are punning far more than they used to (which I love!) and also dipping toes into artistic creativity where previously, they’d sworn to have no trace of artsy. I love watching this, as it inspires me to do more as well. I also like supporting the artsy side of my friends–it’s just good juju! The downside is that the artsy stuff doesn’t really transfer back. Amy has the uncanny ability to pick out the most insane colour schemes imaginable and they just work. Me? It looks like a Dr. Seussian acid trip. She can also put together a string of beads like whoa, whereas my beaded creations are rather cliché and uninspired. I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that I’m a bit envious of that, but more than envious, I’m proud and glad that she can do those things because FSM knows I need the back up in those areas!!

Road trips always inevitably involve hangovers.
I wish I could remember this before the actual trip takes place.

There’s a huge difference between personal suspicion and absolute confirmation.
It correlates directly to “Oops, I accidentally stabbed his face” and “I shanked that motherfucker till my arms were sore and then made breakfast sausage out of what was left of him.”

Sometimes, the ugliest feelings are the most honest and it’s best to just be ugly for a while.
Ugly isn’t fun but in most cases, it’s temporary even if that period of time doesn’t seem short-lived. I’ve had to sit in some serious patches of ugly this year but I think I’m coming out a better person for it.

I have a wonky crisis-reaction reflex.
When crisis happens and people around me go into panic mode, my immediate, involuntary reaction is to go into a state of extraordinary-zen. This has been the case for as long as I can remember but was recently brought to light again. I think if everyone around me would remain in a state of complete panic, I would actually become the reincarnation of the Buddha… shortly before I spontaneously combusted.

The strength of a friendship may be deemed unequivocally immortal when your friend calls you hysterically crying about how she just crashed your car and your immediate (and long term) reaction is to laugh at the hilarity of the situation.
True story. No one was hurt, save for the right side of my front bumper, which now sports a super stylish, trailer-hitch-shaped piercing. I’m somewhat amazed that it took this long for it to happen, given that Amy and I interchange cars constantly. I am happy that it was my car that broke the cherry (see above re: zen). And also, I still find it wildly amusing!

Some people are special enough to be friends no matter how long the silences.
And those silences feel like nanoseconds upon reconnection.

Some friendships could have been saved by silence.
I wished for crickets at one point but it’s probably best that they were otherwise detained.

The item in my wardrobe that makes me feel sexiest a canvas apron.
It’s covered in splatters of paint, ink, and various other whatnot. It’s relatively ill-fitting, probably not figure flattering, and does nothing to contain my wobbly bits. It’s the most comfortable, satisfying, perfect piece of clothing I own.

There’s a degree of absolute madness in self-acceptance.
Theoretically, it’s logical–the easiest thing in the world. Say it, feel it, mean it, do it. In practice, it requires an uncanny amount of blind faith and perseverance. I’m trying to master the art but am quickly realising that giving up the idea of mastery and simply stepping off the cliff is the way to go. I know there is no spoon and I’ve called in my prescription for red over blue. It’s just a matter of finally taking that first pill.

 

Via Colori

Houston’s Via Colori festival was this past weekend. I made what I consider to be my “debut” as an artist at the festival, chalking up a 4′ x 4′ square with one of my designs. Before the actual event, I went through various degrees of nervousness: Would I be the biggest amateur there? Would my square turn out horribly? Did I plan enough? Did I forget something incredibly important?

By the time the actual event came, the nerves had calmed down somewhat, as there was little else I could do about it. I’d signed up and was expected to colour a square and come hell or high water, that’s what I was going to do, even if it was just to chalk the whole thing in technicolour vomit. I didn’t plan out an entire design. I knew what my central theme would be and decided to build it up from there. It took several layers and some experimental innovation to get the fill-in to look right, but in the end, I’m happy with my first Via Colori square.

There was a threat of rain for Sunday so I was desperate to finish my square Saturday evening just so that I could be officially finished if we were rained out. I wanted to be able to say that I completed my design. I went back to the festival on Sunday because I knew a few people I wanted to see would be showing up. I also wanted to get photos of other designs out there. (You can check out all 333 photos here.) I did a few touch ups early in the morning, helped my neighbour (Hi Jamie!) fill in a little bit of her black background, and sat and did a lot of people watching.

It’s a little odd to watch people walk by and comment on your artwork. I was self conscious about it, for sure. But mostly people were very kind. Everyone seemed to really like the little addition of a necklace that Amy put into the crack of my square, where the woman’s neck was. It was a very cool touch, and one that many people noticed right off. Amy’s necklace: the break-out hit of Via Colori! I will say that when a couple sauntered by, he in a shirt with garden gnomes, she with a very obvious pentacle around her neck, I was completely satisfied when I heard her murmur to him, “I like this one a lot” about my square. Pagans and gnome lovers liking my square? Golden.

I also had two pieces in the auction, both of which had bids on them when I left on Sunday afternoon. That felt nice as well. I don’t mind that I don’t get the money from the sales. It was quite pleasing enough to know that the pieces were wanted by someone at all.

I’ve already signed up for a square for next year and I’ve been tallying up helpful hints for next year as well. I will need a lot more Tylenol! I had no idea how sore I’d be after crouching and crawling about all day. It sounds like a no-brainer but I had knee-pads, cardboard, and other various items to aid in comfort but I still found it difficult to move Monday morning. (I wound up calling in to work, broken.) My left wrist is still very sore and after seeing a lot of the photos of me working, I can see why. I probably leaned all my weight on it for the majority of the weekend. Next year, I’ll have a better game plan for that.

All in all, it was a fantastic experience! I’m really glad I did it and I look forward to next year’s!

 

Commissioned again

A friend of mine invited me over for dinner last night with he and his wife. He and I occasionally grab lunch together but as he’s pretty far from anything central and it requires quite a hike for him, lunch is relatively rare. I was happy to get to spend some relaxed time (read: no lunch hour constraints) with the two of them, especially since I haven’t had much interaction with his wife, whom I think is the bees knees. And she can cook like whoa! (Nummy risotto!)

Aside from just getting together, the two of them wanted my opinion on how to dress up some of their empty walls in their new apartment. Specifically, they wanted to know what I could do to dress up those walls. Whee! So it looks like I’ve got another commission in my pocket here.

They have a really cool bamboo rug in the living room, most likely where the art will go, that they would like to be complemented by the artwork. The slats are shades of orange, red, and one very muted sage green hue. I’m thinking a triptych of purples (opposite of orange on colour wheel) with some accents that pick up the sage in the rug. Hitting up the art supply for the panels this weekend.