Home is where your library is....

I'm officially home and back in gear. Or should I say, I'm back in gear as much as I can be given it is summer. Either way, I am home. It's a relatively new experience to say that I'm home considering one practically needs scuba gear to go outside with this humidity. Yup, this definitely is Missouri. I still tell people that we're "going home" to Utah, but it doesn't mean quite the same thing any more.

The quality of this visit to family was different. William was not there for the first few days, and a good number of my friends are across the country and the world. And my room is quickly becoming not my room. When we arrived, paperwork and mail was piled on the night stand and bookcase. Artwork from high school and college was scattered on the floor under an empty bed frame and shoved behind every piece of furniture in the room. The bookshelves were full. Everything (minus the purloined mattress) was as I had left it before Ben and I got married (almost a year ago!).

We decided to organize the chaos since we were packing some of it up to take with us. A lot of stuff was crammed: more love letters than I'd like to admit to, brochures, and notebooks with angsty poetry written late at night. If the laughter was any indication, Ben enjoyed going through some of this more than I did. A lot of incriminating evidence was trashed, although the poetry will provide comic relief for years to come. Now the drawers lie empty, and the artwork sits neatly packed into portfolios in one corner. Three-hundred pounds of books were shipped across the country. The bookshelves there are empty.

As the airplane descended into Saint Louis, the realization hit me. I am no longer a student. No longer am I just going to school here, but I live here. Many people assumed that when I graduated Ben and I would flee as soon as possible back to Utah. One lady in the ward of Ben's family told me that we were "breaking the rules" by staying in Missouri. If so, cheating feels good; we've been very blessed. And our bookshelves here are full.

"Oh, well, in that case it's fabulous!"

I found this clip through the blog of a gallery owner in New York. I thought it made a great follow-up to my last post, where I touched briefly on the question of what makes something art. I'm totally involved in the artworld, and even like many artworks that are made of mundane or ridiculous materials. In fact, the highlight of my trip to L.A. at the end of February was going to Ace Gallery and seeing Lauren Bon's work. The show included pieces with live bees and jars of honey, and even a fountain dripping honey on a preserved lamb carcass. Yes, a lamb carcass. But the show was incredibly powerful. On the other hand, I do believe that there is a lot of nonsense that gets covered by a veil of fancy words so viewers can't see how ridiculous they really are. "This is the materialization of the psychotic's dream deciphered by...." *snicker*

Singing Thaddeus Strode

I'm almost done with my MFA, and what has my almost 20 years of education made me qualified for? Well, other than teaching art, I'm not quite sure. Perhaps not much. While I'm open to other options, I have tried to start preparing for teaching again, so I signed up for an art ed. workshop at the university's museum. Little did I know I'd be singing Thaddeus Strode.

The workshop's central idea (of which they scraped the surface) was how to approach teaching contemporary art. I'll be the first to admit that, compared to the traditional great masters, some of contemporary art is...extreme. Canned human excrement, an entire shark carcass floating in formaldehyde, and gnawing on a 600 lb. cube of lard are all art according to today's art world. All have been displayed in museums. Whether these are "good" is debatable, but they nevertheless are "art." A lot of people understandably have a hard time with contemporary art, and there are many reasons why teaching it can be a challenge.

The workshop didn't answer many questions, but it did give the participants some things to think about. I liked some activities, while others I have had to think about for a while. One of these was the aforementioned singing. A museum educator from the L.A. Museum of Contemporary Art had us in the gallery making up noises to match different lines in the drippy, graffiti-like paintings of L.A.-based artist Thaddeus Strode. We were her bizarre symphony. "WEEEE--woooo--bzzzzzz...."

Now, before I go any farther, I'll state my opinion baldly. I don't like Thaddeus's work. The show, Absolutes and Nothings, does absolutely nothing for me. It didn't the first time I saw it, and it didn't when I saw the work in the artist's studio (although it makes more sense amongst the mess). Singing the work didn't necessarily change my mind.

Before any art ed. buddies get their undies in a knot, I'm not going to say that making up a sound to match the painting enlightened me about the painting. It didn't. I don't think this activity helps you learn anything if you stop there. What it has the potential to do is help you see the parts that make up the whole, and more importantly makes the work more approachable. How can a work be intimidating if you've just proclaimed it makes farting noises?

Anyway, to end this rambling post, I'll give you guys a laugh. Here's a picture of the workshop participants using their bodies to make a shape from a painting. I'm smack in the middle, looking like I need to use the bathroom, dancing Thaddeus Strode.

Bag Tag

Molly tagged me, so I'll use it as an excuse to post something. The most exciting thing is the last paragraph. :D

THE RULES:
1. You have to show your bag
2. Show all the contents in the bag--no cleaning out first!
3. Bag Tag five more people


Unfortunately for all y'all, my purse is pretty small, so it's pretty boring on that front. However, I think this one is great! My sweet husband bought it for me right before Christmas because I was so frustrated with my old bag. It wasn't very big, but its one pocket was a bottomless pit. This one has three.
(I'm being lazy and leaving the dang photo rotated. Sorry.)

Outside Pocket #1:

1. Curel Ultra Healing lotion--a necessity for all your favorite dry-skinned ceramists.





2. Sunglasses--cheap, but they do the trick!
3. Receipt for Burger King at LAX--Chicken nuggets and a side salad.
4. Gum
5. An unused Blockbuster gift card and strategically covered student ID card.

Middle Pocket:

Wallet (now if you only had a look in there.....)











Outside Pocket #2:

1. Four bobby pins
2. Orange Staedler pen--Gosh, I love these pens, but my black one will be out soon. *sniff*
3. A pencil with a broken point.
4. Cheap black pen.
5. Four unsent postcards advertising a show I was in back in January. The piece is sitting on the backseat of my car.
6. Comb
7. Lip-gloss that I thought was lost, but had only been swallowed by my scripture case.
8. A check card register--Empty except for one entry: "Brien's B-Day" (which was months ago)

I will admit that I didn't follow the rules exactly....I left out the, um, female stuff. ;) Also, I don't know five other girls with blogs. I suppose the guys could participate, but I kind of hope they don't have purses....


Anyway, I turned in the first rough draft of my thesis this morning, which means that I'm ready to go full tilt in the studio. Hip, hip, hurray!

Nesting Instincts

Ben and I finally took the plunge! It may not seem monumental for everyone else, but for us, it may have been more difficult than deciding to get married. I'm talking about buying a new couch and a couple of chairs to match. As I said, not exactly huge in the scheme of things, but it means a lot to us. Our little place no longer feels like a student apartment, but more like a real, established home. That, and we will not have to a.) snuggle up with visitors on the old blue and gray beast, b.) drag a mattress into the front room when we have guests, or c.) avoid asking anyone to come to our house. For the benefit of our family who is far away, and as a sneak preview for friends in the area, here is a picture, along with a few of the rest of our place. Please keep your arms and legs in the car at all times, and do not stand up until the ride comes to a complete stop:

When we first saw this couch at the store, we wouldn't even consider it. The fabric it came in made it look like it had been made from the hide of some ill-fated muppet. The color was between turquoise and moss green with the texture being the unfortunate hybrid of carpet and fleece. Luckily, there was a sectional in this upholstery, which helped change our attitudes. Also, it was the most comfortable couch of all on which we had sat.

This is our dining room, with Ben's computer in its usual location. I cleared my computer off so that you would all think our house is usually cleaner than in reality. Is it working? Recognize the clock, Molly?












I'd ask you into the kitchen and bathroom, but the kitchen sink has dishes in it and the bathroom is nothing special. (Unless mother nature calls, then it's really special...;) )

This is the master suite... Okay, so it really isn't a suite, and you really can fit a bed in and that's just about it. But it sure feels good after a long day at work and the studio! (And shipping the comforter set from Utah was definitely worth it!)

And lastly, a comparison:

The "office" when we first moved in:












And the office now:


I think the amount of visible floor space is just about the same, although it is a lot better than it was before. Imagine the way the room currently is only with a full-sized mattress in there, too. Now think of puppies and rainbows so that you can sleep tonight. We were able to make enough room for the mattress in the basement as it is turning out to be more difficult to sell than we thought. If y'all know anyone in the St. Louis area that would like to buy the mattress (cheap!) and could come pick it up, we'd really, really appreciate it.

Well, that concludes our virtual tour. Please come and visit us in person soon!

Creation and Destruction

“All things change. Nothing is permanent.” --Buddha

My husband and I were definitely the outliers in the room. The vast majority of our company was old enough to be our parents if not our grandparents. It was a sea of gray hair. We probably should have expected it, considering we were a.) at the viewing of a documentary b.) at the art museum c.) there on a Friday night. Although we already admitted that we are nerds, this definitely cemented it. Every day just confirms how well suited the hubby and I are. Not only did he willingly go to an art documentary on a Friday night, he wanted to go when I mentioned it. And then we both LOVED it.

Of course, this particular documentary would probably be fascinating to anyone who is interested in culture and current events. If you can, find a copy of “The Giant Buddhas” (2005) directed by Christian Frei. You can also find out more about the movie at www.giant-buddhas.com. It basically tells the story of the destruction of two 1,500-year-old Buddhist statues carved into the cliffs of the Bamiyan Valley in Afghanistan. In March 2001, the Taliban blew them up essentially in retaliation for the sanctions the world established against them (from what I understand).

The film was quiet with haunting melodies floating over the images of the Afghani desert or following the footsteps of a seventh-century Chinese monk. A melancholy tone permeated every shot. While it focuses one specific event, that event cannot be isolated from the context of war and poverty. I mention this to emphasize that the loss of human life is the greater tragedy, not the loss of physical things. However, we are very closely tied to the physical world through our bodies, minds, and spirits. People live in space and time where everything shifts, moves, grows, decays, alters. Our bodies become one with the landscape as we take in food and air, incorporating it into our cells, and then returning it all when we die. Natural change, decay, disintegration is not destruction, however. In fact, this is my current artistic subject. What can seem like demolition or ruin can in fact be beautiful, and often is involved in a process of revelation or even a new, different creation.

The now-destroyed Buddhas were incredible. They produced a sublime awe even without the mask and gemstone eyes that shone over the valley many centuries past. The statues were not pristine, but rather told the story of the years that had come and gone. Erosion worked slowly but unceasingly on the rock. Eventually, they would have gone the way of everything else. The Taliban changed this. Watching the video of their (inept) explosions made me nauseous. Stupid, wanton, selfish destruction.

As an artist, I find a certain amount of joy and pleasure in pure creation. I truly think that creation is one of the ultimate goals of life. Physical production is not the only meaning of ‘creation,’ although one of the more obvious ones. As the Taliban took dynamite to the Buddhas, they destroyed not only tangible objects but also relationships, identities. I’m sure these demolishers did not gain any true joy or happiness out of their act.

I’m not sure exactly what is happening now with regards to the site. Some wanted to rebuild the Buddhas, while others have suggested laser projections in the now-empty niches. I think I prefer the later option. Whatever happens, I hope that the people are able to rebuild their lives and their country.

And with that, I should get back to my own creative endeavors.

...And the floods came up!

There's a children's song which tells the story of two men. One man, the more sensible of the two, built his house on a foundation of rock. The other apparently wanted a seaside home and built his house upon the sand. In this tale, the forces of nature conspire to pour water down upon the abodes of both men, but each ended up with a different outcome. Man One stayed comfortably warm in his stationary house, while Man Two soon found out that he had something more akin to a house boat. The moral of the story is that we should all build our lives on a solid foundation.


While I agree wholeheartedly with this lesson, the song was brought to mind by a completely different circumstance. This story does involve sensible men and foolish ones, but there are no foundations involved. The words "the rains came down, and the floods came up! The rains came down and the floods came up!" flashed through my mind as I splashed through the puddles on the ground and felt rain water falling on my head. The problem was that I was indoors. *sigh*

There had been a leak in the studio ceiling all last year, which they were supposed to fix during the summer. The Roofing company tried patching it several times over the three months, none of which held, so during the first week of school they tried to do a larger-scale repair job. That week bits of rotten wood flowed down a slide from the roof, and we all prayed (looking up to heaven through the holes in the roof) that the job would work. Our wonderful building maintenance people (wise men, not like the roofers!) worked tirelessly to protect students' studios with tarps. It's a good thing, too, because as soon as this first rain hit, the seam burst open. Now there is flood where before there was a drip. Good repair job, roofing company!

The old roofers (the foolish men) were fired and as of this morning we have a new roofing company. However, the roof is damaged beyond repair, and probably had been since the beginning. The roof will be torn off completely and replaced, which means all of us in that area have to evacuate. I've been transformed into a flood evacuee! Our new graduate director, who is winning a lot of fans among the grad students, is desperately working to find us all adequate accommodations.

I now sign off, listening to the hum of the wet/dry vacs, and thinking that the wise man had probably not only built upon the rock, but also made sure he had a good roof.