I hate how the world treats the gentler things.
"Darwinism," the capitalist shouts from the inside of his train. Choog choog. Spits out black tar air, tracks that cut through my garden and the burialground of the birds my cat caught this summer.
Joel was hit by a car.
"Blacked-out in the air," he had said playing video games in his underwear on Hannah's bed with scabbed knees, knuckles and nose. Bruised.
I don't like it when the drunk clumsy world takes down my friends.
Andrew got hit last month. Truck accelerated into him at a crosswalk. Guy got out all pissed and what-the-hell-were-you-doing-there attitude.
"What if I had been a kid. I was so mad, I hate feeling mad," 6'5" lumberjack hero on the Charmin paper towel rolls Andrew says to me over the phone when I call him about it.
As kids we watched our dog get hit by a car. Mom & Dad on one side of the road, us three kids on the other (10,8,6) sitting on a grassy hill and he ran to meet us and we all saw it was going to happen. Actually, I didn't see it. Closed my eyes for the impact, at the last second - just like I do in nuclear bomb dreams before the blast overtakes me, the dust uproar when I am concumed by chemical fire.
Car drove away, Mom and Dad cussing and two small children screaming and it was probably for the best. I don't cry. Delayed stress reaction is common with me.
Hate how the big things don't pay attention to the little things.
Ever hear the guitar playing man on Newport Ave. near the Christian Science church? You can only hear if you walk by.
I want to be a protector of the gentle things. Want to do push-ups and learn loud words to yell in the moment.
"You know where I can find the GAY MEXICAN PUPPET SHOW?" Crooked walk transient asks my friend Juan
Friday, June 17, 2011
John
When John was growing up before he'd goto school his Mom would put hair product in his hair and call it "hair spray." Years later he found out the product was Sun-In and that is why he was blonde for a large portion of his childhood.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
ZIne #9
Year of the Rabbit. 2011. Psychic told me this year is going to be amazing. Psychic told me I was a prostuite in a past life and I have a guardian spirit named Harold looking over my right shoulder. Wonder what the stars are doing. Wonder if it matters.
March, dressed in faux fur coat and danced at Holocene, Tube and Beauty Bar in Portland for my birthday then walked the morning misty grey streets of the northeast with my fish-eye lense camera to yoga. Portland, where the daffoldils come on the week of my birthday yet I am not in love with it. Jonathan says it's too ironic but my dislike comes from too many cars. Too much rain. Always cold to me.
Gary and I ran from a cop some Thursday night in downtown Bend for no reason and was there was a chase. When he caught up to us flashlight waving, looking for some bugger who started a fight at Seven, asking us why we ran we couldn't tell him anything and apologized. Talked about Dad and Lost at McMenamins, went to sleep at sister's house down the street.
Organized my finances.
Stopped going to therapy.
Taught some zine classes through the Nature of Words and illustrated for a Olympia, Washington zine for Josh James about Prince.
Guerilla art cork-people project with students from Cascade Academy.
Participated in a zine workshop hosted by my friend Hollie who asked people to draw a picture of themselves and answer, "how would you live your life if no one judged you?"
Wrote about kissing more people.
Telling my secrets to new strangers so I don't have to face the past.
In April dressed as a geisha doll in a fashion show wearing Sarah Vile's Homeslice necklace concoction at the Mad Happy Lounge where afterwards Super Adventure Club played San Fransico video-game Chromeo night beats. Paid ten dollars for a CD so they would play more and go into a Berlin trance with the UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ.
Conducted a self-invented purge ceremony on the evening I scraped my knuckles in the pedestrian tunnel while riding my bike home speaking to a past or present lover which involved turning the heat high, pushing the furniture to the side and belting Rage Against the Machine and Prodigy while spinning. It worked, I tell you. Don't let yourself get stuck in the great motherfucking sad.
Played bike polo the day before Easter in Tumalo at Holly and Peter's house and wouldn't admit to injuring myself attempting to walk on stilts before the Adult Easter Egg hunt (condoms and tequilla) taking shots with Central Oregon's Taylor Lautner who I found an hour later sleeping on the living room floor.
Dance party in a warehouse where I ate sushi and drank damiana labations between DJ's forming a back bend obstacle course fueling energy to dance until 7 in the morning. Breakfast was Nutella and scrambled eggs. Not sleeping long because of Kola Nut,Yohimbe and Korean Ginseng multi-herb I had taken hours before.
Pulled the old woodstove out from the garage with my neighbor and burned the branches and pinecones that had fallen off the trees in the windstorm. Pulled out the rug and laid it on a dead grass dream weeks later with neighbors and wander-bys frying tortillas into chips while Jamie salts them out in the open and out of nowhere comes homebrews and local brews and bikes and all of us packed on the rug sharing cigarettes and marveling at the changed world. Looking off from the roof singing Fleet Foxes and Amazing Grace.
The Mississippi river is flooding. Every interview they conduct with local witnesses sounds like a blues song; "When it gets here I'm gonna run. When the water gets here I'm gonna run."
Prince William got married and I did not see it.
This has happened before, I am sure of it. Or is it deja vu? Sliding synapses losing their rythm. 2011 has not happened before. No timequake here I am sure of it. Because 2011 is the only year I feel has been unique in it's own.
My hair has been doing some funny things this year. February I went at my bangs with sewing scissors over a trash can in front of the long mirror on the floor. Then blonde for the first time since I was 4 in Courtny's sink, then blue a month later sitting on Leesh's toilet making her roommates complain about the lingering and sense depriving smell of bleach to clean up the bathtub. Now it is tragically brown with a slice of blue still left. Anarchy supressed.
Played tambourine with Rural Demons then got hit in the head by a the head of a stand-up bass played by Larry and His Flask's, Jesse Marshall while they busked on a May First Friday in front of Bellatazza.
Thought about sex a lot. A continuing conversation which has ceased to be just silliness. Seriously trying to figure out the secrets of it, admitting how essential it is to feel connected to people with it (and not just a partner, connected to the ebb of humans. To mate is enter into a strangers world unlike words. The only other comparison I can think of is dancing). Grappling with the first earnest desire of getting it. This awkward now. Don't look at me.
Had a photography adventure in Prineville.
Watched my little brother run a half marathon.
Played Bingo at Summit for the Bend Spay and Neuter Project.
Climbed the mountain and asked the wise man at the top, "How is the moment complete in itself? How can I leave it and put it away and move on? How can I stop holding on? The moment sealed in amber on display. Fist-fulls of rececipts, hoarder of sacred moments I base my life on. Should I even let go? What is the way to love? Way to live?"
Mom held me while I cried hot tears in my old green bedroom with the Bob Ross looking painting of three large trees surrounded by water with two mountains in the background.
Said good-bye to my grandma. Under the blankets, telling me the world is going to be tougher in my time and how sad it is.
Had me type in "sex" in her crossword thesaurus when I was quite young and it read, "love-making."
Grandma, who always knows who's the baby's daddy on Maury, makes us beef stew in the squat can with the red label. Potato bread with real butter.
Ginger snaps with milk.
She never understood me being vegetarien.
We couldn't leave the table until everyone was done.
"I can run faster than you think I can," she once told my furrowed brow little brother who threatended to run away. Maybe she could, but it was hard to imagine.
Sun dress and floppy straw hat. She was my sister's grandma. Trying on clothes over clothes at Ross. My brother got her blonde hair and blue eyes.
Sitting next to her in the borrowed hospital bed settled in the old dining room where we had Thanksgiving dinner overlooking the porch with squirrels (what will happen to the squirrels?) I am holding grandmas hand. Pond's Cold Cream on her side table I rub on my neck and momentaily smell like her, soft and clean.
"Let me see your beautiful blue eyes," Mom told me they would say as she laid sleeping and she would open them.
Fresh non-generic scented laundry.
Washing my hair in the sink like they do in the salon.
Watching Jerry Springer, Rickie Lake, Judge Judy, People's Court, Jenny Jones, Montel Williams, Sally Jesse Raphael, Rosie O'Donnell.
Knitted slippers.
Said good-bye to Andrew (friend-of-many-virtues) because he left for St. Louis. He told me to not see boys that were'nt good enough for me. I wrote in a letter that I felt sad he was hit my a car weeks ago because the world should never be cruel to him (he was pushed more than hit. Truck driving jackass who didn't want to stop at the crosswalk for people crossing).
Met someone I am in like with.
March, dressed in faux fur coat and danced at Holocene, Tube and Beauty Bar in Portland for my birthday then walked the morning misty grey streets of the northeast with my fish-eye lense camera to yoga. Portland, where the daffoldils come on the week of my birthday yet I am not in love with it. Jonathan says it's too ironic but my dislike comes from too many cars. Too much rain. Always cold to me.
Gary and I ran from a cop some Thursday night in downtown Bend for no reason and was there was a chase. When he caught up to us flashlight waving, looking for some bugger who started a fight at Seven, asking us why we ran we couldn't tell him anything and apologized. Talked about Dad and Lost at McMenamins, went to sleep at sister's house down the street.
Organized my finances.
Stopped going to therapy.
Taught some zine classes through the Nature of Words and illustrated for a Olympia, Washington zine for Josh James about Prince.
Guerilla art cork-people project with students from Cascade Academy.
Participated in a zine workshop hosted by my friend Hollie who asked people to draw a picture of themselves and answer, "how would you live your life if no one judged you?"
Wrote about kissing more people.
Telling my secrets to new strangers so I don't have to face the past.
In April dressed as a geisha doll in a fashion show wearing Sarah Vile's Homeslice necklace concoction at the Mad Happy Lounge where afterwards Super Adventure Club played San Fransico video-game Chromeo night beats. Paid ten dollars for a CD so they would play more and go into a Berlin trance with the UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ.
Conducted a self-invented purge ceremony on the evening I scraped my knuckles in the pedestrian tunnel while riding my bike home speaking to a past or present lover which involved turning the heat high, pushing the furniture to the side and belting Rage Against the Machine and Prodigy while spinning. It worked, I tell you. Don't let yourself get stuck in the great motherfucking sad.
Played bike polo the day before Easter in Tumalo at Holly and Peter's house and wouldn't admit to injuring myself attempting to walk on stilts before the Adult Easter Egg hunt (condoms and tequilla) taking shots with Central Oregon's Taylor Lautner who I found an hour later sleeping on the living room floor.
Dance party in a warehouse where I ate sushi and drank damiana labations between DJ's forming a back bend obstacle course fueling energy to dance until 7 in the morning. Breakfast was Nutella and scrambled eggs. Not sleeping long because of Kola Nut,Yohimbe and Korean Ginseng multi-herb I had taken hours before.
Pulled the old woodstove out from the garage with my neighbor and burned the branches and pinecones that had fallen off the trees in the windstorm. Pulled out the rug and laid it on a dead grass dream weeks later with neighbors and wander-bys frying tortillas into chips while Jamie salts them out in the open and out of nowhere comes homebrews and local brews and bikes and all of us packed on the rug sharing cigarettes and marveling at the changed world. Looking off from the roof singing Fleet Foxes and Amazing Grace.
The Mississippi river is flooding. Every interview they conduct with local witnesses sounds like a blues song; "When it gets here I'm gonna run. When the water gets here I'm gonna run."
Prince William got married and I did not see it.
This has happened before, I am sure of it. Or is it deja vu? Sliding synapses losing their rythm. 2011 has not happened before. No timequake here I am sure of it. Because 2011 is the only year I feel has been unique in it's own.
My hair has been doing some funny things this year. February I went at my bangs with sewing scissors over a trash can in front of the long mirror on the floor. Then blonde for the first time since I was 4 in Courtny's sink, then blue a month later sitting on Leesh's toilet making her roommates complain about the lingering and sense depriving smell of bleach to clean up the bathtub. Now it is tragically brown with a slice of blue still left. Anarchy supressed.
Played tambourine with Rural Demons then got hit in the head by a the head of a stand-up bass played by Larry and His Flask's, Jesse Marshall while they busked on a May First Friday in front of Bellatazza.
Thought about sex a lot. A continuing conversation which has ceased to be just silliness. Seriously trying to figure out the secrets of it, admitting how essential it is to feel connected to people with it (and not just a partner, connected to the ebb of humans. To mate is enter into a strangers world unlike words. The only other comparison I can think of is dancing). Grappling with the first earnest desire of getting it. This awkward now. Don't look at me.
Had a photography adventure in Prineville.
Watched my little brother run a half marathon.
Played Bingo at Summit for the Bend Spay and Neuter Project.
Climbed the mountain and asked the wise man at the top, "How is the moment complete in itself? How can I leave it and put it away and move on? How can I stop holding on? The moment sealed in amber on display. Fist-fulls of rececipts, hoarder of sacred moments I base my life on. Should I even let go? What is the way to love? Way to live?"
Mom held me while I cried hot tears in my old green bedroom with the Bob Ross looking painting of three large trees surrounded by water with two mountains in the background.
Said good-bye to my grandma. Under the blankets, telling me the world is going to be tougher in my time and how sad it is.
Had me type in "sex" in her crossword thesaurus when I was quite young and it read, "love-making."
Grandma, who always knows who's the baby's daddy on Maury, makes us beef stew in the squat can with the red label. Potato bread with real butter.
Ginger snaps with milk.
She never understood me being vegetarien.
We couldn't leave the table until everyone was done.
"I can run faster than you think I can," she once told my furrowed brow little brother who threatended to run away. Maybe she could, but it was hard to imagine.
Sun dress and floppy straw hat. She was my sister's grandma. Trying on clothes over clothes at Ross. My brother got her blonde hair and blue eyes.
Sitting next to her in the borrowed hospital bed settled in the old dining room where we had Thanksgiving dinner overlooking the porch with squirrels (what will happen to the squirrels?) I am holding grandmas hand. Pond's Cold Cream on her side table I rub on my neck and momentaily smell like her, soft and clean.
"Let me see your beautiful blue eyes," Mom told me they would say as she laid sleeping and she would open them.
Fresh non-generic scented laundry.
Washing my hair in the sink like they do in the salon.
Watching Jerry Springer, Rickie Lake, Judge Judy, People's Court, Jenny Jones, Montel Williams, Sally Jesse Raphael, Rosie O'Donnell.
Knitted slippers.
Said good-bye to Andrew (friend-of-many-virtues) because he left for St. Louis. He told me to not see boys that were'nt good enough for me. I wrote in a letter that I felt sad he was hit my a car weeks ago because the world should never be cruel to him (he was pushed more than hit. Truck driving jackass who didn't want to stop at the crosswalk for people crossing).
Met someone I am in like with.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Poncia Interview
What gives you inspiration?
It could be anything that ‘stun’s me visually... could be as simple as a pattern on fabric or color combination. For a while now whimsical art and illustrations from children’s stories of the 19th and first half of the 20th centuries have inspired me. A childhood pen pal from Sri Lanka sent my family a handmade doll she had created. That, along with visits I’ve made as an adult to The Museum of Childhood in Edinburgh, Scotland have inspired a signature project I do with my students called ‘burlap people’. The way my great-grandmother (circa 1920s/30s) had taken bailing wire to weave around the legs and back of a wooden chair to repair it or give it strength amazed me and inspired me to create, with standard utility wire from the hardware store, armatures with my students for their sculpture projects. American and French art deco and the zigzag era have inspired a few of my pieces including Finding Peace.
What fuels your creativity?
The excitement of knowing that I can create something rather ornate, full of meaning, symbolism, from what is at ‘arms reach’ ...as you so beautifully put it.
How do you get that special feeling?
It comes to me when I’m watching period or contemporary movies...adventure, exotic, thought provoking... I feel I’m in the best place in the world (in my little work space) with a movie that touches me playing in the background, or great music, working on art. I’m absolutely in the ‘zone’ and most productive at these times.
What influences your art?
Thoughts of my great-grandparents, great aunts and uncles and grandparents ...their stories, styles, keepsakes ...things that made up their ‘essences’ influence me tremendously; Decorative arts from ancient to mid 20th century ...American folk to Aztec and Islamic art; Art influenced by war. Some of the angels gestures in the Lollipop Tree piece were influenced from a painting by John Singer Sargent in which young men (soldiers of WWI) are gesturing towards loved ones as they march off to war.
What artists (or art) do you admire?
Art with ‘expression’ in form ...may be flat or three dimensional. Artists that don’t seem to be afraid to express themselves in their rawest form through their art ...Martha Graham (dancer), (actors) Anna Magnani and Marlon Brando. Frank Lloyd Wright’s textile block houses.
What is your work space like?
The garage is my studio. I use fold out tables for my work surface and plastic chair or wooden stools. Sometimes I paint a piece while it’s hanging on the wall. But most of the time I gravitate to the living-room, on the floor, with the coffee table as the place I set supplies. I move around ...dinning room table as well. My work space has included art on the walls, mine, others, period photos, mirrors, big windows.
What kind of lighting is there?
I probably need to use more lighting...standard soft white light bulbs. The metallic paints I often use provide a lot of different contrast in different lighting ...so it’s never a dull moment.
Is it a big space or small?
The space is contained ...everything is in arms reach.
Is it simple or complex?
Simplicity is important ...it may be in disarray, but it is simple.
What colors are there?
White walls, neutral colors generally speaking.
Are there animals?
Yes, my dog Sage. When I’m at a table he is usually under it, asleep on or next to my feet. He is always close by and catatonic. He senses the peacefulness with the universe when the creative process is at hand ...I think :) Before Sage, when I had my cat Chumley (bless his precious heart), Chumley would lie very close to where I was working and watch my hands work. If given the opportunity he would lay on the piece of art I would be trying to work on.
Is there music?
Yes ...Movie soundtracks (The Hours, Castaway, Glory, Harry Potter, Davinci Code ...) Frank Sinatra, Gershwin, Classical, more jazz, swing, acid jazz, swing, classic rock.
Where do you feel the most creative?
When I’m on location at ‘places’ that inspire ... a museum, junk shop, book store. I’m from the San Francisco/Bay Area and when home I usually visit the Legion of Honor Museum at the presidio ...one of my very favorite places to be. I go through exhibits taking notes and sketching details I want to remember. This inspires more thoughts and ideas.
When do you feel the most creative?
When I take quality alone time, to explore, like to some of the places I mentioned above.
What time of day do you like to create in?
Really anytime, but I most enjoy the nights even though my brain gets so stimulated that it is hard to go to sleep after working on a piece.
Throughout creating a piece of work what kind of emotions do you feel in the very beginning, the preparation, the middle, the completion of the project?
If I had the ability to express this in writing these would be my words, but alas they are not. Anahata Katkin (artist and blogger) gives my answer to your question better than I ever could:
‘I believe resistance is part of the natural creative expansion. Creative expansion is the juicy stuff artwork is made of. Some artists display a faster process and can work more fluidly. I believe this is due to how they react when they hit the edge of a creative expansion.
Artwork is made up of steps and mental landscapes. Like a good music soundtrack there are moods and different stages of fluidity and tone. Learning to navigate our creative process is about how our individual minds and emotions operate. The good news is it doesn't require any mental activity as much as a general awareness while working.
Stage 1: Bloom
When you're just damn inspired.
I generally have a BLOOM state where I can easily get engaged and enjoy the process immensely. I feel impulsive and guided to an extent and at this point my mind gets excited and interested in the project. It's a time of gathering, contemplating, enjoyment, and play. Materials come easily and there is a general well being about the prospect of the artwork. Try the best you can to stay with this segment as long as possible. I try and ride this wave in one sitting. When I begin a project I like to have enough time that I can stay in this groove if I have stayed inspired...otherwise..
Stage 2: Resistance
Then suddenly I hit a place where I have maximized that stage and I hit that RESISTANCE. Resistance will occur usually in the first third of the project. Almost every time! Learn to expect it. Do not be surprised when you suddenly hit the edge of your honeymoon phase. It is REAL for everyone. The voice of reason is loud, convincing, and intense. It can show up in the form of boredom, disinterest, frustration, tiredness, comparing, and exaggerated mental chatter about your artwork. Nor I have recognized the value and realize that I have to work in spite of that voice. It is crucial during the resistance phase that you keep on working! The more you pause and stop working the mere power and habit you establish with resistance. Most people stop right here and don't push further. This defines an artist from everybody else. Artists will work through this nagging stage and move into the sweetness of creating in time. They have learned to expect this irritating part and they trust that it's temporary. At this point try your best to observe the critic without reacting to it. Your critic will have some good ideas if you ask yourself questions like: What is it I don't like and what flashes into my mind as solutions?" That should be the extent of the power you offer your resistance. The resistance only signals that you have hit the edge of your creative breath. And when this happens it simply shows you that it is time for a new strategy or another creative inhalation. Solution of phase 2...
Step 3: PING PONG
...and that's when I like to ping pong between materials. Being that I am focusing on mixed media artwork and that is primarily how I like to create we have an added advantage. When I reach my resistance phase or in a scene a place of critical mass, I bounce to a new material and a new perspective. Drop your current medium and pick up a new one. Stop painting and start drawing on the same piece. Change colors. Use your hands instead of a brush. Do something unpredictable to get the energy moving again. The trick seems to be move even more quickly and implosively at this point. Remember your critic will be trying to grow by using your impulsive instincts you will learn to tame the critic faster. With “ping ponging” you can gain a real momentum in the artwork and trick your brain into a new place. You can get your mind to come along for the ride by doing this rather than letting your mind dominate what you’re up to. Change your focus from the main image perhaps to the broader. Lay down some charcoal in border areas, switch to fine pointed pen details or doodling for a little bit. Anything that will hone your intuitive creative eye and switch your perspective. Practice step two and step three EVERY TIME you create anything. It is a lifelong skill that will serve your creativity every time.
Stage 4: Full Expression
My high school art teacher told me once that the moments when you return to a piece of artwork after a period of struggle are the most supreme moments in the creative process (Right on!! JP). I have never forgotten that and it has been a great discovery every day. During the resistance part of your process I believe it creates a kind of artistic vacuum. A puddle of skill and life force builds up behind all of that resistance- because while you are resisting you are also asking from within yourself to be able to express yourself. And once the resistance is released all of that good stuff comes shooting in with a rocket of ability and artistic expression. And this place generally feels good and easy. Music sounds sweeter, (I usually start crying at this point ... thankful tears J JP) the project seems to be coming together. Your body is able to move along with the brush. It’s the cream of the process and it’s what we all look for as artists.
Stage 5: Completion
I often find that I might experience the first couple of stages again before I am ready for completion. Depending on the scope of the project this can happen many times. But at some point there will be a refining, a detail time. I work on the details of colors and patterns, and finishing touches. I generally know I am there by the slowing down quality. The desire to fuss over it like a Christmas tree and fresh tinsel. I keep wanting to go see the piece through fresh eyes. That’s when I know it’s finished. ‘
- Anahata Katkin 2006
When do you feel the project is complete?
When I look at the piece and can say ...’I can live with that.’ When I no longer have the inkling to add something here or there to the proportions and the colors work for me.
Which part is the most fulfilling during your creative process? (your favorite stage)
I love developing the design. I never plan it out. I just start somewhere, could be a corner or smack dab in the center and go. I add, take away, overlap ...and the other favorite part is when I finally realize the color scheme I want. I often change colors 3, 4, 5 times on a piece. It is just my process.
What tools and materials do you use to create?
My standard tools and materials are the following: Scissors; tacky glue; a hard somewhat flat (it can be warped) piece of wood or compressed material; cardboard; utility rags; container of fresh water; paintbrushes; water-based acrylic paints; hammer, screws, D-rings, hanging wire, paper bags, battery powered saw and screwdriver, box cutters, nails/tacks, wood glue, newspaper. Sometimes twine, burlap, polymer clay and clay molds, baking sheet, stove, toothpicks.
What do you enjoy about creating?
Feeling useful. Feeling connected with something greater than myself.
What challenges are there in the process?
I definitely know what I like and don’t like. When I’m caught between the two I characterize myself as very moody. But when the breakthrough comes it is a great feeling. I’ve caught myself jumping up and down with excitement.
Do you create best when alone or with others?
Mostly alone, but I enjoy working when others are present. When children are around I’m interested in their perspective and quite often ask for their insight.
Why do you think doing art is important?
Probably because it is perhaps the most intimate form of self expression. It builds character.
Why do you think sharing art is important?
It’s not natural for me to want to share my art. But the importance of sharing has a direct connection with the universe whether a person believes it or not. It’s bringing your art (self) full circle...somewhat of an obligation.
Why do you think telling stories important?
Stories teach ...expand our imaginations ...Inspire ... Make a statement ...We are stories ... Giving a child the opportunity to create something tangible, then give it a story ...it’s giving life to ideas and possibilities.
How is art and community related?
I’d like to think that you are a part of my community now and that I’m a part of your community. Our arts have brought us together – the power of sharing comes into play, bringing people together.
How do you feel about others opinions?
With respect to my art I’m free of worry truly. I refer back to the Martha Graham quote on my web site bio page and I believe it whole-heartedly (see two questions down). I’m definitely interested in how a piece may affect other people. There was a man, I’d say in his mid fifties, who told me that the angels in the Lollipop Tree piece were frightening to him. My immediate thought was - very interesting! And, it reinforced why I took the approach with the angels the way I did. They were meant to appear unexpected, out of the ‘norm’ to reinforce an idea (for children)... good often comes from the unexpected and different.
I do my art for me. The expression remains real that way. It is what it is. I was very happy to learn about the affect the Lollipop Tree had on you.
Do you feel linked with your art or is does your art and yourself stand separate?
Yes I do. I have cried when parting from pieces.
What would you have to say to an artist who feels paralyzed with fear of not ever making something beautiful?
I’d first sit the person down and read two stories to them, ISH... and The Dot. Then I’d read the quote by Martha Graham and I’d do it with all the drama and passion I could muster ...
‘There is a vitality, a life force, an energy that is translated through you into action. And because there is only one you in all time, this expression is unique. If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium . . . the world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable, nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly - to keep the channel open. ‘ - Martha Graham, Dance to the Piper.
Then I would assure them that if they themselves consider it beautiful, automatically at least 10,000 other people throughout the world would also consider it beautiful...it is just how the universe works.
It could be anything that ‘stun’s me visually... could be as simple as a pattern on fabric or color combination. For a while now whimsical art and illustrations from children’s stories of the 19th and first half of the 20th centuries have inspired me. A childhood pen pal from Sri Lanka sent my family a handmade doll she had created. That, along with visits I’ve made as an adult to The Museum of Childhood in Edinburgh, Scotland have inspired a signature project I do with my students called ‘burlap people’. The way my great-grandmother (circa 1920s/30s) had taken bailing wire to weave around the legs and back of a wooden chair to repair it or give it strength amazed me and inspired me to create, with standard utility wire from the hardware store, armatures with my students for their sculpture projects. American and French art deco and the zigzag era have inspired a few of my pieces including Finding Peace.
What fuels your creativity?
The excitement of knowing that I can create something rather ornate, full of meaning, symbolism, from what is at ‘arms reach’ ...as you so beautifully put it.
How do you get that special feeling?
It comes to me when I’m watching period or contemporary movies...adventure, exotic, thought provoking... I feel I’m in the best place in the world (in my little work space) with a movie that touches me playing in the background, or great music, working on art. I’m absolutely in the ‘zone’ and most productive at these times.
What influences your art?
Thoughts of my great-grandparents, great aunts and uncles and grandparents ...their stories, styles, keepsakes ...things that made up their ‘essences’ influence me tremendously; Decorative arts from ancient to mid 20th century ...American folk to Aztec and Islamic art; Art influenced by war. Some of the angels gestures in the Lollipop Tree piece were influenced from a painting by John Singer Sargent in which young men (soldiers of WWI) are gesturing towards loved ones as they march off to war.
What artists (or art) do you admire?
Art with ‘expression’ in form ...may be flat or three dimensional. Artists that don’t seem to be afraid to express themselves in their rawest form through their art ...Martha Graham (dancer), (actors) Anna Magnani and Marlon Brando. Frank Lloyd Wright’s textile block houses.
What is your work space like?
The garage is my studio. I use fold out tables for my work surface and plastic chair or wooden stools. Sometimes I paint a piece while it’s hanging on the wall. But most of the time I gravitate to the living-room, on the floor, with the coffee table as the place I set supplies. I move around ...dinning room table as well. My work space has included art on the walls, mine, others, period photos, mirrors, big windows.
What kind of lighting is there?
I probably need to use more lighting...standard soft white light bulbs. The metallic paints I often use provide a lot of different contrast in different lighting ...so it’s never a dull moment.
Is it a big space or small?
The space is contained ...everything is in arms reach.
Is it simple or complex?
Simplicity is important ...it may be in disarray, but it is simple.
What colors are there?
White walls, neutral colors generally speaking.
Are there animals?
Yes, my dog Sage. When I’m at a table he is usually under it, asleep on or next to my feet. He is always close by and catatonic. He senses the peacefulness with the universe when the creative process is at hand ...I think :) Before Sage, when I had my cat Chumley (bless his precious heart), Chumley would lie very close to where I was working and watch my hands work. If given the opportunity he would lay on the piece of art I would be trying to work on.
Is there music?
Yes ...Movie soundtracks (The Hours, Castaway, Glory, Harry Potter, Davinci Code ...) Frank Sinatra, Gershwin, Classical, more jazz, swing, acid jazz, swing, classic rock.
Where do you feel the most creative?
When I’m on location at ‘places’ that inspire ... a museum, junk shop, book store. I’m from the San Francisco/Bay Area and when home I usually visit the Legion of Honor Museum at the presidio ...one of my very favorite places to be. I go through exhibits taking notes and sketching details I want to remember. This inspires more thoughts and ideas.
When do you feel the most creative?
When I take quality alone time, to explore, like to some of the places I mentioned above.
What time of day do you like to create in?
Really anytime, but I most enjoy the nights even though my brain gets so stimulated that it is hard to go to sleep after working on a piece.
Throughout creating a piece of work what kind of emotions do you feel in the very beginning, the preparation, the middle, the completion of the project?
If I had the ability to express this in writing these would be my words, but alas they are not. Anahata Katkin (artist and blogger) gives my answer to your question better than I ever could:
‘I believe resistance is part of the natural creative expansion. Creative expansion is the juicy stuff artwork is made of. Some artists display a faster process and can work more fluidly. I believe this is due to how they react when they hit the edge of a creative expansion.
Artwork is made up of steps and mental landscapes. Like a good music soundtrack there are moods and different stages of fluidity and tone. Learning to navigate our creative process is about how our individual minds and emotions operate. The good news is it doesn't require any mental activity as much as a general awareness while working.
Stage 1: Bloom
When you're just damn inspired.
I generally have a BLOOM state where I can easily get engaged and enjoy the process immensely. I feel impulsive and guided to an extent and at this point my mind gets excited and interested in the project. It's a time of gathering, contemplating, enjoyment, and play. Materials come easily and there is a general well being about the prospect of the artwork. Try the best you can to stay with this segment as long as possible. I try and ride this wave in one sitting. When I begin a project I like to have enough time that I can stay in this groove if I have stayed inspired...otherwise..
Stage 2: Resistance
Then suddenly I hit a place where I have maximized that stage and I hit that RESISTANCE. Resistance will occur usually in the first third of the project. Almost every time! Learn to expect it. Do not be surprised when you suddenly hit the edge of your honeymoon phase. It is REAL for everyone. The voice of reason is loud, convincing, and intense. It can show up in the form of boredom, disinterest, frustration, tiredness, comparing, and exaggerated mental chatter about your artwork. Nor I have recognized the value and realize that I have to work in spite of that voice. It is crucial during the resistance phase that you keep on working! The more you pause and stop working the mere power and habit you establish with resistance. Most people stop right here and don't push further. This defines an artist from everybody else. Artists will work through this nagging stage and move into the sweetness of creating in time. They have learned to expect this irritating part and they trust that it's temporary. At this point try your best to observe the critic without reacting to it. Your critic will have some good ideas if you ask yourself questions like: What is it I don't like and what flashes into my mind as solutions?" That should be the extent of the power you offer your resistance. The resistance only signals that you have hit the edge of your creative breath. And when this happens it simply shows you that it is time for a new strategy or another creative inhalation. Solution of phase 2...
Step 3: PING PONG
...and that's when I like to ping pong between materials. Being that I am focusing on mixed media artwork and that is primarily how I like to create we have an added advantage. When I reach my resistance phase or in a scene a place of critical mass, I bounce to a new material and a new perspective. Drop your current medium and pick up a new one. Stop painting and start drawing on the same piece. Change colors. Use your hands instead of a brush. Do something unpredictable to get the energy moving again. The trick seems to be move even more quickly and implosively at this point. Remember your critic will be trying to grow by using your impulsive instincts you will learn to tame the critic faster. With “ping ponging” you can gain a real momentum in the artwork and trick your brain into a new place. You can get your mind to come along for the ride by doing this rather than letting your mind dominate what you’re up to. Change your focus from the main image perhaps to the broader. Lay down some charcoal in border areas, switch to fine pointed pen details or doodling for a little bit. Anything that will hone your intuitive creative eye and switch your perspective. Practice step two and step three EVERY TIME you create anything. It is a lifelong skill that will serve your creativity every time.
Stage 4: Full Expression
My high school art teacher told me once that the moments when you return to a piece of artwork after a period of struggle are the most supreme moments in the creative process (Right on!! JP). I have never forgotten that and it has been a great discovery every day. During the resistance part of your process I believe it creates a kind of artistic vacuum. A puddle of skill and life force builds up behind all of that resistance- because while you are resisting you are also asking from within yourself to be able to express yourself. And once the resistance is released all of that good stuff comes shooting in with a rocket of ability and artistic expression. And this place generally feels good and easy. Music sounds sweeter, (I usually start crying at this point ... thankful tears J JP) the project seems to be coming together. Your body is able to move along with the brush. It’s the cream of the process and it’s what we all look for as artists.
Stage 5: Completion
I often find that I might experience the first couple of stages again before I am ready for completion. Depending on the scope of the project this can happen many times. But at some point there will be a refining, a detail time. I work on the details of colors and patterns, and finishing touches. I generally know I am there by the slowing down quality. The desire to fuss over it like a Christmas tree and fresh tinsel. I keep wanting to go see the piece through fresh eyes. That’s when I know it’s finished. ‘
- Anahata Katkin 2006
When do you feel the project is complete?
When I look at the piece and can say ...’I can live with that.’ When I no longer have the inkling to add something here or there to the proportions and the colors work for me.
Which part is the most fulfilling during your creative process? (your favorite stage)
I love developing the design. I never plan it out. I just start somewhere, could be a corner or smack dab in the center and go. I add, take away, overlap ...and the other favorite part is when I finally realize the color scheme I want. I often change colors 3, 4, 5 times on a piece. It is just my process.
What tools and materials do you use to create?
My standard tools and materials are the following: Scissors; tacky glue; a hard somewhat flat (it can be warped) piece of wood or compressed material; cardboard; utility rags; container of fresh water; paintbrushes; water-based acrylic paints; hammer, screws, D-rings, hanging wire, paper bags, battery powered saw and screwdriver, box cutters, nails/tacks, wood glue, newspaper. Sometimes twine, burlap, polymer clay and clay molds, baking sheet, stove, toothpicks.
What do you enjoy about creating?
Feeling useful. Feeling connected with something greater than myself.
What challenges are there in the process?
I definitely know what I like and don’t like. When I’m caught between the two I characterize myself as very moody. But when the breakthrough comes it is a great feeling. I’ve caught myself jumping up and down with excitement.
Do you create best when alone or with others?
Mostly alone, but I enjoy working when others are present. When children are around I’m interested in their perspective and quite often ask for their insight.
Why do you think doing art is important?
Probably because it is perhaps the most intimate form of self expression. It builds character.
Why do you think sharing art is important?
It’s not natural for me to want to share my art. But the importance of sharing has a direct connection with the universe whether a person believes it or not. It’s bringing your art (self) full circle...somewhat of an obligation.
Why do you think telling stories important?
Stories teach ...expand our imaginations ...Inspire ... Make a statement ...We are stories ... Giving a child the opportunity to create something tangible, then give it a story ...it’s giving life to ideas and possibilities.
How is art and community related?
I’d like to think that you are a part of my community now and that I’m a part of your community. Our arts have brought us together – the power of sharing comes into play, bringing people together.
How do you feel about others opinions?
With respect to my art I’m free of worry truly. I refer back to the Martha Graham quote on my web site bio page and I believe it whole-heartedly (see two questions down). I’m definitely interested in how a piece may affect other people. There was a man, I’d say in his mid fifties, who told me that the angels in the Lollipop Tree piece were frightening to him. My immediate thought was - very interesting! And, it reinforced why I took the approach with the angels the way I did. They were meant to appear unexpected, out of the ‘norm’ to reinforce an idea (for children)... good often comes from the unexpected and different.
I do my art for me. The expression remains real that way. It is what it is. I was very happy to learn about the affect the Lollipop Tree had on you.
Do you feel linked with your art or is does your art and yourself stand separate?
Yes I do. I have cried when parting from pieces.
What would you have to say to an artist who feels paralyzed with fear of not ever making something beautiful?
I’d first sit the person down and read two stories to them, ISH... and The Dot. Then I’d read the quote by Martha Graham and I’d do it with all the drama and passion I could muster ...
‘There is a vitality, a life force, an energy that is translated through you into action. And because there is only one you in all time, this expression is unique. If you block it, it will never exist through any other medium . . . the world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable, nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly - to keep the channel open. ‘ - Martha Graham, Dance to the Piper.
Then I would assure them that if they themselves consider it beautiful, automatically at least 10,000 other people throughout the world would also consider it beautiful...it is just how the universe works.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
At Willow's House
“Did you know the only reason they have us add eggs and oil is because back in the 50‘s when boxed food was introduced housewives wouldn‘t use it because it made them feel useless? So they let them break a few eggs and the market took off. They needed to feel they had a role in the process. The whole mix could be, ‘just add water…’”
Alli and I are making food for the party tonight at the Art Barn. Art Barn is in Seal Rock, off the Oregon Coast near Waldport. Willow is the propretress of the artist venue and barn of murals, rugs and couches boasting a ping pong table and a croquet course.
Everyone will dress as a farm animal.
She throws a mold of jello in the crowded refrigerator and starts tossing something in a bucket that is a kind of bean salad. From the Midwest, her diet is what I call “future food” - appetizers and jello - the cutting edge food of post-war America.
Alli tells me she loves Oregon, it’s the most beautiful place in the world. I agree with her but I’ve not been many places.
I mix the eggs with a fork. The table I am working at is scattered with ephemera: beads, crystals, toys. A placemat of some Disney movie is under some books. There’s a basket filled with dusty knick-knacks.
Above the table hangs low a series of prayer flags depicting yoga positions. Plants grow in the window sill and a montage of potted plants are shelved in the hot sun room. The water in the sink has sulfur in it so drinking water is taken from the bathtub.
As three large sheets of brownies cook I sit at the table and read the notes on the refrigerator. They are mostly positive affirmations; “live your dreams,” “dance to the beat of your own drum,” “You’re awesome!”
Drawings by Oceana, Willow’s daughter, are tucked under and over layers of lists, notes, pictures.
In the other room Oceana warns a friend not to touch her mother's shrine as they prepare their costumes for the party.
The house is filled with these bursts of sunshine.
It's a wild home, overgrown with sentiments and feeling.
Warm and used like grandpas sweater.
Plus, there are cats.
Willow’s home makes me consider my concept of HOME.
My mind wanders.
I have this friend James who tells me whenever I see him he is giving away his possessions.
“James!” I say, “you said that last time! Do you have any possessions left to give?”
“There is a center in us and all the things we own revolve around that center.” James says. He puts his hand near his chest.
Maybe he doesn’t do that, but that’s what I imagine him doing.
“The more objects we give away the more that center can grow. It gets bigger and bigger and we have so much energy!”
He tells me he is keeping his mandolin because it is small enough for his travels and when he plays it he can communicate with the people along the journey.
What to take from this? Willow and James are happy. They are free. One has jars of tea and books falling from the shelves, the other lives in a backpack.
Be Willow and fill your jars up with loose tea and fairy wings. Be James and let everything but your mandolin go.
Who the hell knows? There's no one way. Complicated, Simple, Messy, Orderly. What feels right? What are our spirits telling us?
Mine says, I need to paint a mural and throw away old magazines. I need monster costume and I need to give away the old wall paper
Okay, the brownies are done and I still have to get my costume together.
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