Waxing days, growing pains and shake

Today crossing an intersection my chain blew off my bike and I fell riding onto the top tube. All’s well. I hopped off and got onto the nearest sidewalk. Honking cars blew by. Entitlement is the word on the street; it’s belligerent and impatient esp. in the mornings. At clay class, I’ll restate, it was suggested that suffering is a choice- not intrinsic to life. Sugar gliders are known to disembowel themselves in captivity from depression. Privilege is for something to be about you. Suffering it’s said is caused from illusion. My dream in the morning was confrontational. ‘Paranoia will destroy ya’, and caffeine will make you do dumb things quickly. What else. . There’s a good one from reading today> ‘Love is the in between of ignorance and knowledge’. Also, in here, nature as an assault of information. Earlier in the week I went through poor health, and also got buckles in the rims of my bike- ready for taco’ed wheels. The sun hasn’t shown in five days. I replaced parts of my bike and think of Argo when I approach it, especially too as I read Maggie Nelson’s The Argonauts. I read Hawthorne on Painting and am putting the concepts to application. I am thinking of dropping another class, a crit class, as I feel the more time I can spend in the HLB the better (I’d audit Scott Noel’s drawing class). I feel I am rotting in my seat when in a class that nurses three hours talking about seven pieces of work- and the message is always the same- go make more!  Daisy chains, I haven’t changed. ;)

Notes from today’s meeting

SOmething Had me thinking of researching Playground design .. kids don’t submit proposals for how they would play to be admitted onto the playground. 

Also this meeting had me thinking that I would need to do more reading of Robert’s Rules Of Order- a manual for parliamentary procedure. Motions, permissions, etc. 

 Here goes:

Give self perspective, show work, experience opportunity, exhibition, great learning experience, a couple paintings, our Brian (Clint referring to his years hanging shows in undergrad), MFA0 on my own, critics told to re-hang it, your work is much more important Paul Westlake, Westlake Reloskoski, , - campus plan, 5th floor, renovations, Broad Street studio, HLB eventually, bathroom, Liquidity in the older generations and cheap labor, while harvesting from younger generations for ideas, bc they’re smart, context. Hear from you. Feedback on the space, on the design, involvement, ideas, student space, background: museums, Cleveland museum, Kunsthalle, contemporary art, Renwick, Smithsonian, privileged, honor, special institution, project background, demolished, construction by December, infrastructure, furniture, gallery for you, auditorium, not a preforming arts center> student space. Drawing and paintings about the human body, student use, lecture, Learning space, classroom space, engaged in all aspects of  the gallery; planning, curating, text signage, exhibiting work, 10-12 exhibitions a year. Undergrad & Grad & Highschool & CE. Predominant student work. Staff curator, mentors students, help guide projects, several paint interns, collaborate w staff curator. Staff work with you, . . Planning. 30% larger. . . New Media AV infrastructure, video panels, tie projection to Lenfest Plaza. . . And other places on campus. MOre than an exhibition space, more than a white box gallery- ownership. Revolving door fro submissions (Robert’s Rules of Order) , physically programming, highschool, CE, activate it more, curating, installation, curator, interns, gallerina, [Robert’s Rules of Order. . . ] Galleries, auditorium, locking. At PAFA, social spaces, not just the water cooler talk, graveyards (in Germany, many bodies are exhumed. In Germany, cafes are built into cemeteries). Where paintings go to die, space lobby chairs, freshmen grad students, video performance, let’s start:

What do you want to see in this space? Museum, Lenfest, Broad, media, talks, content. 

Internships, to curate, class, merges museum and school. Strong stupid point, da da 

Sequestered off room for screening video works

Non juried, ICA, 

Or like, like, ways, to do that, accessible?

Drywall develop defined strongpoints> into the slab, 

tight as we can to the deck

Nothing else in that ceiling, identify areas that are easy to hang from. Elevator freight. Elevator primary channel (secret tunnel> accessibility) would a large sculpture fit? Yes, yeah, double doors. . Grave yard community spaces wall spaces sliding panel, flexibility w walls, lower area there sections?, extra alcove, admittance free movable wall, stairwell, Extemporaneous things, how wither, 128 wayfinding, sequester, water cooler, 5th floor, natural space to gather, need video panels, spaces scattershot thing, secret tunnel, Don’t know how to sand a wall, wheels on furniture, like a warehouse studio, paint on the furniture, students booths, intermissions, booths studio gallery facilities, music dance theater,  wheels, theater, anon program making, Fringe arts, respond to the program, in the space, intermission the arts center, spaces to develop, lens standard, outside presentations, enriches the students and their work, students and their life, student series that you’re curating, or whatever it is. . . Think back to access Outside not going through the museum, First Friday, accessible, like, like, Vox Building, student run, get creative, Sound artist from Paris Auerbach, through the museum Operationally vital actions, student. Work . Students themselves, emerging artists, to be seen, STUDENT ARTIST TALKS.

Acoustical & audio equipment, student talks, 20 museum type chairs, instructors, space connections, inviting, students could be. Earlier one. Making sets, dances, lectures, expand curriculum, not just showing their work outside. Multidisciplinary collaboration, Visual Art, scenic arts for dance, scenic artists on that. Digital backdrops. Workshop exhibition ready, precious, student knows how to make paper, not so polished, ~restrictions. Hockney Show at the MET (nice reference). IPad> deleting, adding,100 gestures, process. 

2 Statements, programming. Visual artist program. . Get people there, each artist to bring one piece, ASE program for . Countdown. PAFA site. Solutions accessible, preciousness. Get-up (paint on my clothes- painter clothes, walking through the museum), When I walk through the school wet paint, feeling like I can walk in even just going to the cafe. Visual countdown. 50 days, 30 days. Berkeley, white and black boxes. And grey boxes. ‘Plug and play’, 

BYOB- Bring your own Beamer (digital projector pot-luck jam session)

Partitions, and move ‘em.

Now to December create the 2019 calendar. Wiki. > awareness. Students are in it. Thinking about what’s going to happen in there. PAFA admin,- students know, that they’re empowered (mission statement), John’s auditorium, New Gallery, Food/storage, Efficiency, ‘4th wall’, ‘Movie night’, mission statement. Just the architect. Student artists, synergy a system. Student space, & gallery space, that’s serving art, visual art. My perspective, arts organizations free access. Will they be charging? . . Some ticketing> ticketed. Something for us to wrestle with.  Cleveland Museum of Art. Student artist talks. How to be humble. No commercial mission. Need to go . . (To classes, almost done) Obv. ? ‘final Interesting point’- “breaking the academic norm”, collections in Philly is the same point again. .? A lot is sometimes through instagram selling again again art nerd social wine learn how to talk to people. 

School day, beginning of a thread of days

Something simple today. It’s picking up. I dropped a table on my toe from being rushed this morning. A transverse bumbler and converse helper had me flustered. GOt a good painting in the morning. Looking at Fairfield Porter, Velasquez, Orpen, and a student of Bouguereau who’s name escapes me, then looking at Scott Noel’s paintings too, I was reminded of coins under a lit tea light in an emptied hotdog can. The darks indiscriminately made a stealthy lattice, the mid tones bent and accounted for ‘largeness’, and the lights floated. . SO the expression is ‘thread the darks, flood the mids, float the highs.’ That was my big takeaway from today. I went to a conceptual class in the afternoon. I think I will drop it, because there’s a traditionally oriented Scott Noel drawing class happening at the same time.

Day five

I broke my streak of writing once a day. Nothin to it. In meditating I find that the times on which I think fondly, were those times where I, god how quick do sentiments change, mid sentence. Anyways, I went out to see my friend and his girlfriend last night at a bar. They were traveling through Philly. I brought them gifts. Where I wholly do not expect to receive back from gift giving, they have done me well. In researching my bike mechanic (in order to find his friend via social media, that he’d mentioned painted murals around here) I learned on his shop bio that he liked lime LaCroix. He was working on my bike at the time, and so before I went in to pick it up, I bought a lime LaCroix to surprise him with, to which he was joyed. He then turned around and gave me a great discount on a bike helmet. Only upon walking out did I realize what potentially happened. Yesterday a cafe worker hooked me up with a bag of unsold food items. It took care of lunch, and dinner, and breakfast so far, and should last me until tomorrow yet. (What gift did I give to him?) Once on a trip to Miami I became homeless until calling my friend, who was staying nearby and offered me a place to sleep. I bought a bottle of liquor for the house. Two years later, while apprenticing under that friend, he cited the story of how I’d brought a gift that night, and he knew that this was a person who understood balance and reciprocity. This has felt sinful to write about, but if it encourages gift giving, hell. A person has gone from tangible to abstract, and is now to go unnamed. Like how we must lie in the subconscious to experience enlightened moments, it’s these bogs in which we make our homes, and anything other would be fanatic. 

School has had a stutter-step start as Thursday was treated like a Monday, and Friday tapered off, and today, Monday, is a holiday. It’s welcome to me, like shifting gears on a downhill. I just got this little projector so I can beam my compositions onto panels, no problem. I’d had a projector before, but truth be told didn’t use it too much. Now, my practice incorporates much more digital, and with a sensibly small projector I’ll have a bridge to the traditional. 

Collapseability

Not to be hopelessly bleak, but it occurs to me I have not put this thought down. 

Art school is an open field, and you get out what you put in, that’s granted;

And not to lionize myself for making the decision;

I am learning to speak a visual language, one that needs no translation it might be argued.

I am learning to imbue thought through material. 

To me art school is a end of the world training facility, where a universal language is learned, passed down, cultivated; one that will remain at disposal after the collapse of the economy, after the food shortages, after the solar flares knock us back a hundred years. In the blackouts, I can speak; in the storms, I can paint; in the floods, I’ll sculpt from wet earth and debris. When financial assets evaporate, I’ll have currency. One life right?, so I’m investing in myself.  

Day four

Today is the Lord’s day. I celebrate it by becoming depressed. The more depressed I am the better. Sundays too, but Sundays I have a painting group to run, and I usually get a good feeling from getting a painting. I have to be careful to not crowd a certain someone. There’s an art opening tonight, a pop up show. A pop up is what you do if you make work that isn’t very good, but you want that rush of attention and anticipatory fervor. The artists doing the show have whored themselves all over the school about it. Distributing hand lettered, ‘you’re invited’ cards, and posters in the hallways with offers of free wine and food. It would be silly not to go, what with the food. I anticipate hating it, which is the only place from which I can approach the show that it may have a positive effect. I wonder how this attitude I carry goes into the rest of my life. I think about how alone I am, and how I will die alone, and it sets the stage for a woman to enter, whom I will love. It’s not a proactive approach, but it’s the truest one I know. Part of me thinks this is like how a funnel web spider catches its prey, or most spiders for that matter- taking care of their corner, and abiding and waiting, and why would I think of a relationship like a predator prey relationship? I don’t think I do, just using an analogy. The quote from Eric Hoffer the other night was inappropriate. He said that to reach out to Lili would give him an alibi for mnot doing anything at all. This is in line with feelings I’d had in relationships before. Wether it’s conscious or not, I have refrained from dating for the past two years, though reading this blog, you might not know it. Hoffer’s quote struck me because it was that thing that happens, happened to me before, that I thought in distance would not happen again- it was me, surely? So I put it in there because it felt dirty, and thought it was worth putting to page. I respect Hoffer, but the quote wasn’t of immediate relevance. When trying to flesh out demons, I tend to say ugly things. There’s guilt deferment, or sharing, in being ugly, I think because when expressed, and since people want to get along by and large, soothing sentiments can be found in a response, be it neutral or positive, and if negative, and if you optimistically consider yourself strong, then it’s considered for the better. There’s things we push against, crosses we bare. We push against ourselves, whatever that means. We are interconnected in a complex web speaking broadly, and we pull and excercise the cordage like athletes do tendons, that the web become ever stronger, or atrophy from neglect. We relish in polemic, it’s contagious. We create contrasts and dynamicisms, that might bring social validations. By dressing one way you dress not every other way, (factoring in of course practicality, laziness, and uncreativity) Through abstraction bonds are formed; through organization, of the assault of information of the individual, of the landscape.

Invisible bonds get me by. I’ve let known that I need space, and the world has accommodated. Sitting in my room two days ago during meditation I saw my childhood room. It was quite clear that like a bug, programmed, I repeat patterns, and take in what is familiar to me, right down to the bed that I don’t sleep on. The decision precedes supposition, it’s automatic. Am I infantilising myself in this? Where does self love factor in? Well, I think I benefit from having a stellar upbringing, where I had access to books, and nature, and many different types of people, and so my echoes of childhood are only as worrisome as they were then. It’s not an unfamiliar bogeyman, it’s the same. Same for my relations. I’ve grown distant, and I’ll always be distant. Caitlin last night said some things about how she felt as though she was unworthy of love once, and that she changed, and it felt good to hear because I am joyed by her transformation. I have transformed myself into a painter, and that should go on, it will go on. It’s the most sure thing I know, and the foundation of my developing understanding. I hope there’s another. I just hope there’s another. 

Day 3

I say day 3 as it’s my third day back in Philly, and my second day of the Spring Semester. I dropped my Friday morning class yesterday, because it was a self-directed class, and for my buck I prefer either a ‘try weird stuff’ class, or a structured academic class. I’d had the teacher before too. So this Friday morning I woke as if I did have class, and went to the library and did office work before the semester gets too crazy. I’d ordered an expensive camcorder, and returned that via FedEx today, then used a free coffee coupon that I’d been holding onto for two months. The coffee was good, especially as it was my first in two days. I ordered a stack of books off line, books I’ve been thinking I wished I’d had around one too many times. In the afternoon I went to Animal Anatomy class with John Horn. John drew on the board a grid, then within a horse skeleton, all very matter of fact. I can tell this will be an enlightening class. In the evening I went to visit Caitlin Ott’s studio, and we talked and worked on projects together for a few hours, checking the clock every so often before agreeing that we would not go out to see the show on 22nd street, but rather stay in and paint. At the end of the night I walked her to her trolley and she offered that I live with her and her roommate and boyfriend, and I accepted. I greatly look forward to a reduced rent and two cool roommates- one who is a motivated sculptor, and the other a musician. Today I posted a thesis statement in the school elevators bearing my name and date. The thesis read as follows: 

“I’m tired of the show proposals that are themed. It either tries to influence what I create politically, or formally, and if I do not cow-tow, makes me ineligible. What a sham. Realize that when putting together a show, it should come from the quality side, and a narrative may be derived therefrom. Why would I go to a Batman show? Why would I go to a show all about ‘blue’? Why would I go to a show about specific injustices? Isn’t the outcome banal, prepackaged, manufactured? What kind of art show is that? We could use curious curators that are willing to fail, and respect the artists for what they make, and respect the intelligence of the audience, because we are not fooled. Thank you for the wine and cheese. -Kemeys Goethe”

I had a few conversations about it today. I’m glad I posted the statement, and that it was read. One out of the four were taken down. One got the word ‘really’ written onto it, which- not enough information. 

I got some help logging into JSTOR today. I think I’m really going to relish having Friday mornings, because I can conduct business and research topics in the library and prepare etc. 

A few good things my teacher EJ Hauser said yesterday: that when a work of art comes to you as alien, she calls it a ‘gift from the future’,

That when someone critiques your work they are really critiquing themselves. 

And something about not trying to separate what goes on in the world from what goes on in the studio. . but my notes are inadequate. 

We went through a slideshow of paintings, and it was funny to see the Malavich black square cracked to shit, and I told Madeline on the phone later that night about seeing it in the slide, and I’d seen it in person too, and how it’s falling apart, yet the Death Of Socrates is still rolling heavy. I took up monitor positions for two of my painting classes so far- it makes no difference to me to set up the rooms and take them down. I signed up again to monitor the Sunday four-hour painting sessions, which is a kind of painter’s insurance plan. This Saturday I hope to take a bike ride and make a few pleinair studies, after a figure painting session in the morning. I’ll take my ipad and well, heck maybe that’s it! 

I loved the Hockney show. 

I’m interested in teaching high schoolers in a PAFA after-school program. I’ll have a meeting with the head of our painting department, Al Gury, about it on Tuesday. 

I dropped out of this class called avant-garde video with David Dempewolf, and though I should regret it, I don’t. It was the one class that represented a behemoth workload in unfamiliar territory. Maybe next year, hopefully next year. Instead, I picked up a class called Feminist Re-constructs, taught by my favorite teacher at PAFA, Emily Abendroth. I’ve been listening to lectures on post-modernism and identity politics, and I’m fatiguing from that after having gotten the gist, and will look forward to the literature and discussion that Emily is so excellent at bringing to the table. 

I don’t know what’s happening with my roommate. I want to move out so that I can start saving money, but fear that it would be unethical, yikes. It pains me to live here. 

First day of Spring Semester

So I’ve got to write a follow up post since last night. I am now in the spring semester at PAFA- today was the first day of classes. In the morning I still thought about Madeline quite a lot. I understand that as the semester picks up again, I will become progressively more involved with my work, and naturally things will fall by the wayside. This is kid of like the kernel though of what perpetuates thoughts of it-could-work-itude. The only kind of relationship I could have is a delightfully spotty one, even the sad times would be a delight so long as they occurred in concentrations, like a painting. A teacher today put words to something I have been having trouble explaining; it is a choice to finish a painting. I don’t finish a lot of things; they are more powerful that way, and in another essay I described ‘more leverageable’. This goes behind engagements like a snake in the grass, but we can hope that we’ve grown to love even the snake, for it did not choose it’s nature.

Flakes and snakes get a bad wrap. C’est la vie. People are people. 

Thomas Hart Benton’s wife was quoted as saying that no American woman could be married to Thomas Hart Benton. That’s what I’m talking about. 

A friend of mine, Karolyn Hatton wrote “The palpable sense of yearning lingers in the air. The romance is in this suspension. As in the elliptical twangy love songs of country musician Gram Parsons. . . Melancholy and the endless deferment of pleasure are not only themselves enjoyable but are in fact the site of pleasure and love. We understand that whether it is at the river’s edge, or on the roof, or beside the pool, what keeps the couple apart is also what keeps them together, always.”

Eric Hoffer says, “All day I resisted the impulse to get in touch with Lili. Once I do this I shall have an alibi for not doing anything.”

And “fair play  with others is primarily the practice of not blaming them for anything that is wrong with us. We tend to rub our guilty conscience against others the way we wipe dirty fingers on a rag. This is as evil a misuse of others as the practice of exploitation.”

And, “how hard it is to know what is really happening to us. With the propaganda of the “I” pervading every cell of our being, we cannot see clearly the true reason for what we do or do not do.” 

I thought I wanted to quote something other from Eric Hoffer, but it alludes my searches, and these above ring to me. 

Okay something from Anaïs Nin, “She worshiped him passionately but as she grew older the form of his image grew blurred. But she had not lost him. His image was buried deep in the  most mysterious region of her being. On the surface there remained the image created by her mother- his egoism, his neglectfulness, his irresponsibility, his love of luxury. When for a time her immense yearning appeared to have exhausted itself, when it seemed that she had almost forgotten this man whom her mother described so bitterly, it was only the announcement of the fact that his image had become fluid; it ran in subterranean channels, through her blood. Consciously she was no longer aware of him;  but in another way his existence was even stronger than before. Submerged, yet magically ineffaceable, he floated in her blood.”

I guess I wanted to share these things I’m reading. I’ve had a good blend recently, and have read myself into corners in each of them. What’s more, many strong recommendations abound, with incentives in what conversations tentatively await! On the plane back to Florida I sat next to a woman who asked, “What at you going to do once you graduate?”, and I knew, and I exclaimed “I’m going to read!” She liked that. 

I had a painting class in the morning. The teacher gave a demo and I thought a milieu of thoughts about how so the person was no Velasquez, so to speak. I saw through critical eyes, and I don’t think I’m wrong. Still, the painting teacher not only pulled it around but upon concluding the demo it was clear that what was demonstrated was for us first and foremost, and that I did in fact learn a lot from watching and listening. I am under this teachers wing, and the crux as to whether to bite or beef is palpable, and that’s how it seems to have to be played; like with my dad, he’s an independent guy, and it’s bite or beef. He and my teacher have the same zodiac sign, and I understand that I will pour trust into it and hold onto my butt and it should be fine. 

Another painting class in the afternoon was lecture-based today. It qualifies as high-altitude stuff. One funny thing happened in class. The teacher, to preface, is fifty, and spoke to shaking the chains of PAFA off, (and she graduated from PAFA too), and take risks, etc. The teacher spoke from the understanding that an education at PAFA was one of firm traditional footing, which is the case, and something to run from thereafter if you are to be relevant. The class is called ‘Painting’. One student asked about doing videos instead, and the teacher tried to be diplomatic and said, “Well, this might not be the right class for you, because I teach painting.”, then another student asked about doing collage, and it’s like god dammit. Teacher was cool and said, look, there’s talk of developing your style etc. and maybe you’re the collage person, but I encourage you to use the materials of the class, because they’re built in to each assignment, and that’s wherefrom the power of the class comes. So basically the teacher underestimated how liberal and circus-like even the oldest painting school in the country has become. It was funny because the teacher has worked hard to shake her shackles, and the students basically never got shackled, and they kind of trolled. I am most excited for this class.