One year down, or a promise fulfilled

Being able to breathe is rather a nice luxury. The semester ended, and suddenly, *gasp* I had the time again. Let me tell you, having time to do laundry and clean the apartment....ahhhh, it seems like there's nothing better! With the end of the semester comes time to post the entry that I've promised several people. I know that some of you wanted to see the end-of-year show that we first year grad students put on but couldn't because you're in a different state. I wish y'all could have come. It was a good show; the work was diverse and ambitious in scale. Even better, I felt that my work was on par with the rest. While that may not sound like much, it means I've come a long way. There seems to be an inevitable artistic crisis that comes with the first year of grad school. Add to that the mile-long list of firsts that I've gone through these last eight months (the first semester especially)... Well, I feel a lot more secure now. And I am very grateful for the support of those who were able to make it out to the gallery. It means more to me than you know.

Here are a few pictures of the piece in the gallery:

Passing (2007), fired and unfired clay, approx. 3" x 12' x 8'

The photo above was taken right after completion; the slip and coils are still wet.
Below are some views of it from other parts of the gallery. (Doesn't that floor look nice? I swept and mopped the whole thing...)





Next we have some detail shots after it had dried some:

Lastly, we have a shot of the coiled "fringe" after someone stepped on it during the opening. One of my professors tattled to me about the first person. The uber-dean lamented it (he really liked the piece!), but I simply smiled. The piece was meant to have a lifespan, be impermanent. That was simply a part of its history.

I had intended to put a second piece in the show, but there just wasn't room for it in the packed gallery. I'll just set it up in my studio and document it there. As it is an impermanent piece, very few people will ever see it in person, which is kind of sad. On the upside, I learned how to mud drywall (which I apparently do quite well), which will be extremely helpful in the future.

For now I'll just take a couple of deep breaths to prepare myself for an exciting summer. Look for me back home in just a few weeks for a short visit. I can't wait to see all of you that are there!

Small Town Life

I live in a small town. Looking at St. Louis, most people wouldn't say so. Sure, it isn't the megalopolis that is New York City, and it isn't Chicago or L.A., either. But to be honest, by the numbers I found, the metro area has a population greater than that of Utah. And truly, driving was a wild ride for a while after moving here. I would get home exhausted from the sheer energy necessary for navigating the crowded maze of streets (not numbered on a grid and with lots of one-ways, ugh). At that time, it seemed like I was a small-town girl that had been unceremoniously plopped in the big city. I was wrong.

At least here in "Gateway City," being LDS shares many of the consequences of small town life. One of the most obvious: gossip. Gossip, chitchat, small talk, gab, tittle-tattle, chin-wagging, scuttlebutt, whatever name it goes by, people feast on it. It's like being able to have all the cheesecake you want without packing it on the hips. Sort of. Maybe it would be helpful if the more a person gossiped, the more weight he or she would gain. I know I certainly would be carrying a little more around the mid-section, which might encourage me to start a low-gossip diet.

While in reality gossips don't balloon into blimps, consequences exist. Sometimes it is true no one gets hurt. For instance, it's rather amusing to hear what the word on the street is about me and the BF. It sounds as though we're likely to run off to Vegas at any moment to get hitched at the Wee Little Temple on the Strip. I'm waiting with bated breath to hear that we've actually gone and done it. Wouldn't that be juicy? But not all gossip is this innocuous. Sometimes talk touches extremely personal, raw topics with a damaging lack of regard. People (myself included) don't necessarily mean to prod or expose emotional open wounds. Most genuinely care about those around them. With enough chatting (and it would be naive to expect that people could sew their lips shut), however, this hurt inevitably happens.

But, you know what? To me, I guess it is worth the bumps and bruises to be known, not to be just another anonymous face in a sea of humanity. So, when all is said and done, I'm not planning on moving out of my small town any time soon.