Assignment 53: Give advice to yourself.

Advice to my 17 year old self.

B - the guy you're dating is a total asshole. But you know that. What you don't know is how he is going to ruin your art for you. Sure you'll get into the colleges you apply to, save one - and get put on a waiting list, sheesh. The important thing is its going to be hard to become that artist you were before you dated that fat lazy pig. You won't draw anymore, for a while I mean. You won't work on your poetry or film scripts. No, you'll just sit around with him playing games you don't even like (thats a few types too) and doing whatever debasing thing he asks for. Because you have no respect for yourself and even though you despise him, you want to sleep with him because you think you aren't worth real love with someone who is wonderful. You won't though, thank God. 

I'm looking at photos of you right now. Now I know what put me off about these photos. When you're with him you look happy, perhaps its because you're off some buzz about dancing with him during Winter Ball or you just made out with him (which trust me, its the only thing he can do right). But you aren't happy. The detail of your sweaty armpits in that pretty dress. You aren't looking at him. You smile, awkwardly showing your braces. And when you smile again the sides are turned down just a bit. You're upset in these photos - but I don't remember why. Was it when he got his pants dirty during the dance - lets not go into details huh? Was it because he kept urging to get a hotel room with you? The food was bad? Your friends weren't rescuing you? I probably won't remember until a time I don't need to.

Start trying to figure out what you want to do. You'll think you have it figured out but it won't be right. Hell, it never is the first time around. Truth is, you're going to start doing what you dreamed of just before you reached middle school. That will make all the difference. 

And please! Please try to love yourself. If you love yourself, you can love your art and your art will be much richer. You are talented and very special. Someday you'll have the life you've always wanted - it'll just be a little different.

Found some notes - what the hell????

I found these notes ripped within a book of Dance Posters in the Library. I have to tell you - it doesn't make a lick of sense to me, even when they fit together (except for band names). 

I'll write out the notes on each paper:

1. wind shadows - coyote oldman

2. door, merchant, runner, lava

3. artist, slav, the big, Jector

4. #68, #83, (dis)sturbs sleep, lonesome

5. on the road, machine, explosions, so long

6. stroumines (?), with, golden, moses, boring, tapes, emergence, team, to Helicon, (w)altz

7. enowish, Sbach, a silver mt. zion, explosions in the sky, Godspeed you! black emperor, sigur ros, nuage III, mogwai,  77 #36, p., Sylvain, Chavoud, Goldmund, New

Seems like a musician writing down notes about musical artists and perhaps potential song titles. Also, a lot of French is in here, especially nuage which means cloud. I looked it up and I found Sylvan Chavoud wrote  song named Nuage (clears that up). As I look deeper into google about each of these phrases, it is clear that most of these phrases are band names. Perhaps the writer of these notes was a dance student, who needed music for some choreography. That seems to be one of my only ideas in terms of why they were in a book full of dance posters. Maybe they had already picked their song (or songs) and had ripped the paper to note posters they liked. Maybe they were looking for ideas for their choreography's visual look. I don't know, but I like this idea!

Moral: first impressions may be strange and alluring, but often the truth (or assumed truth) can be much less otherworldly.

Love Letter to Albrecht Durer

Dear Albrecht (or Furry Jesus, teehee!)

I've loved you for so long. Ever since childhood I've dreamt of running my hands over your soft coat, with fur lining and touching those twisted, curly locks of yours. Perhaps your beard and moustache are touchable as well! Your eyes captivate me! I don't care about you having a wife - I must have you! Paint me, I'll be your model! Engrave my image, sketch, whatever the means! If it would bring us closer, I would do it in an instant! Though...in this painting you are a tad old for me. I mean 9 years is quite a difference and I'm just rounding up since I haven't even reached my twentieth year! Well, I mean, if you were Jesus, you would be the most materialistic Jesus I ever met (can't say I've met any, though)! All these trappings and fur! Are you being sacrilegious or do you think you are some hot stuff? What rubbish! I don't want a man who fancies himself and his art more than any woman! How insufferable! You should be wooing me, not I you! Well then, just friends?

Sincerely,

Bianca

P.S. I still want to model for you!

Modern, Modernism, modern...???? Conversations Inside and Outside

3. When I talked to Rena I thought about Art Nouveau a lot and what made that feel modern. I have a great affinity to Art Nouveau, especially as a young kid. I wondered, what person to me does that now and makes it modern or something of our time, without necessarily using the now to talk about it. I showed the artist who I deem to be this pillar of the time and he's not pretty well known. His name is Donato Giancola and he is a wonderful fantasy and science fiction artist. He takes Art Nouveau and its natural forms and unnatural forms and makes his own unique style and worlds that speak volumes to me. I think he knows the world so well that he can improve or change it so it makes sense in his art. As Baudelaire put it, "He began by looking at life, and only later did he contrive to learn how to express life. The result has been a striking originality, in which whatever traces of untutored simplicity may still remain take on the appearance of an additional proof of obedience to the impression, of a flattery of truth." What Baudelaire explains though, is the "mystery" artist paints his world around him. In my opinion, Giancola also paints the world around him but in a way that reflects the fantastic and hopeful (sometimes not) future or future past he wants for humanity. What I love is how in his science fiction work natural forms are everywhere within the unnatural metal and hyper technological settings. Its as if he's is telling the viewer to not forget nature in the coming years, especially in his integration of that giant tree into the city scape in the fourth one down. My favorite piece out of all of these and his other works is the second one down which is a book cover for a novel called, "Finger Pointing Solward," which is in fact unpublished. When I first encountered the artwork, I had no idea that the title was not his original title and thought it completely abstract and obtuse. But perhaps the woman is looking to the sun, because she is gazing where the light source seems to be coming from. In any case, the beautiful abalone type shell surroundings seem like the inside of a shell (ha!), like a cocoon or organic capsule of some kind. The woman seems to have been just awakened by the man behind her. There is a newness to her and her white garment is so simple, clean, and yet in its softness it is modern. How did she live in that tube she is coming out of? That doesn't matter! She is important and she is beautiful, something like a baby, but fully grown. There is a story here and I wish to know it, but there is nothing solid about the novel to go on by either online or anywhere. I feel like she is myself, coming from this slumber and in between action and inaction. She is in transition and she will stuck that way forever. (I don't think I be in transition forever, but just feel like we relate to each other) It is so rich and yet its richness tells me little of what I'm seeing. Perhaps it is for the viewer to make their own connections and conclusions. This woman is rising up to something and she could be anyone. And with Giancola as my inspiration, that to me is modern.

Sorry about the weird setup. I couldn't manually move the photos down for some reason, so I had to paste the other part down and its layout is all screwed up and unfixable at the moment.

1. I talked to some old friends and my significant other about modern life and this is what came about:

(Siris is 26 and was currently playing a role playing game on her computer while she was on the phone with me)

Me: What is modern to you?

Siris: Well...Not much separates us from our ancestors. The tools are better but we've just upgraded some things to make living easier than it was in the past. This modern age isn't wholly defined yet. Just kinda thinking about what it wants to be. Like maybe it'll be the greenest age, in terms of environmental concerns and practices in how we, you know, help out. We're trying to be that future we saw as kids. But it is going to take a while to get there. So...oh, dude, I gotta go. I have a dungeon raid in like 5 minutes...

(Alexander is 16 and was playing a game of Starcraft (a sci fi game) while we were on the phone - kinda a trend here)

Me: What is modern to you?

Alexander: Dude, technology. All the way. You think about Japan and all those kick ass robots they're making. And how their phones are, like, 10-20 years ahead of ours. I can't wait for my own mecha suit. I mean though we want to stay...human, you know what I mean? If the robots become self aware, like in Terminator, we are totally screwed. So, we have to make sure that doesn't happen and make sure we stay human in the process...does that make sense? I dunno. 

Me: Yeah, it makes sense.

Alexander: Okay...Shit!

Me: What?

Alexander: I just lost my second base. Sorry, I can't concentrate right now. Talk later?

(Rena is in her 30's and its not her real name but her screen name. We used an online chat to talk.)

Me: What is modern to you?

Rena: I think about the 1920's. Stuff like Art Nouveau and how we (laughs) became modernized.

Me: I mean, today's world. The now.

Rena: Oh! Um...Does it have to be something good about it?

Me: No, doesn't have to be.

Rena: I think our world is broken. You got hunger, the economy as it is, wars, hate, all this nasty stuff going on. We as a people say, "Yeah I wanna fix this" but it doesn't seem like much has happened that fixes anything. Perhaps we'll fix more in time. There is a light of hope, but I think a lot of people ignore it. I mean, I look to today's art to feel like everything will be all right. A lot of it can be ugly but it strives for...to be something greater than itself. I mean, I'm talking about the good art here. Sometimes it warns us, scolds us, or just wishes for us to do something better. Perhaps. I think. Did you want to talk about something else?

(James is 17 and we used online chat to talk)

Me: What is modern to you?

James: Metal! LAWL, I'm kidding. But kinda not. Hehe.

Me: So what defines modern life to you?

James: Modern life is like where I live and stuff. I feel like I'm growing up in this fucked up place and I have to get out of it. And if I could I would make it better. Like I watch the news sometimes. And it just freaks me out. I feel like I have no control over anything except what I do, like personally. I'm scared of the real world outside of high school and probably even college to. I feel like something bad is going to happen to me and pretty much everyone. Its like everyone is holding their breathe or something. 

Me: Um, thats a little all over the place.

James: Hehe, sorry.

Me: No that's cool. Anything else about modern life?

James: Hmm...I watch some TV other than the news. Like reality shows. They're crap but so many people are into them. Sooner or later, they're gonna go meaner and nastier and we're gonna not know what, like, monster we made. People act like cause humans are smart, or some shit, that they won't let bad things happen. But I think people are mostly stupid, especially the powerful people and things are going to get pretty fucked up before they get any better...Is that okay?

(Dillon is 22 and my significant other. This was face to face)

Me: What s modern? What defines modern life to you?

Dillon: The recession.

Me: Huh? Really?

Dillon shrugs.

Me: What about our moment now?

Dillon: I guess...Well...You know how they were trying to pin a name on our generation? Like Generation X or some shit? Our "generation" has no identity. Like its lazy.

Me: Shiftless?

Dillon: Yeah and like I dunno.

Me: Faceless too?

Dillon: Yeah, its not like this collective of people like the 70's were about the hippies and 60's about the baby boomers or something. Our generation has no name. The world feels all jumbled and a mish mash of stuff that doesn't make sense. Almost like we haven't found a purpose yet.

Me: We'll find it in time.

Dillon: We better. Or there won't be world left to use...This is depressing. Are you hungry?

I just wanna write.

This day is long. I'm tired. The class I am in right now is going to be 4 hours long. My teacher is literally sitting right in front of me, lecturing and I couldn't care less. I wish I could go home and sleep. Do I have to watch this movie again?

But enough about my current winging. 

I am in transition and I don't really want to be. I want it to be over and to be able to breath again. 

During my spring break I was in Boston to have a meeting with a potential professor. Ya, I know. I'm writing on my NCSA (University, if you want) Art History commonplace and I want to talk about my transfer plans. 

Well, we went through the facilities and he seemed to like me. But...I didn't really talk to him. I talked, but not to the extent I would have liked. My mom talked a lot - probably because she wanted to ensure that he knew how awesome I am. As usual, like every situation or event that occurs in my life, I felt what happened didn't go well, I doubted myself, and I feel I didn't show myself or even show a good side of myself. So, I'm beating myself for everything.

Also, I felt like I was a senior again applying to college for the first time, my parents leading the way. 

Why can't I be independent? And why can't I stop hating myself?

I am completely loved. My family is great. I am learning every day. I'm attractive and healthy. I love many people. 

So...what is the goddamn problem?

Okay. Tangent time.

I want to fill my life with art. I want to love and to feel truly satisfied and happy. I want to be so full of these things, that the skin which holds my body together is bursting open. This world I live in seems like it could give less of a shit about my hopes and dreams. The art does care, my family cares, my significant other cares, but the rest of the world seems to hate me with all of its being. Why is it this way? I am currently very afraid for my future, the future of the world's animal life, and for the future of the world's nations. I am deathly afraid this standstill of relative content is going to dissolve into some horrifying chaos that nothing I will do can stop. I am full of this fear. And I want to stop it from happening. What can I do though? 

How many more questions can I ask? <- case in point

My Fridays here are good though. I love to have my  lunches with my good friend Yoko. It feels like a moment back in Japan, where things are simpler and the cicadas are singing, I'm on a bus to a temple, and outside I was the sun set with a green tea crepe in my hand. You may find this happiness trivial and silly, but it means a hell of a lot to me.

Food means a lot. Maybe thats why I'm a tiny bit overweight. Maybe thats why I'm happiest with the people I love, talking and eating. If you don't have good food, why the hell are you alive? Thats what makes me so fervent about eradicating hunger in the world. People deserve to eat and eat damn well. If I had the money I would hold a big dinner for all the hungry children in the world every day of the year. I want people to be happy. And I guess to me that means food. 

I don't want to watch Amores Perros again. It made me hate the world just a fraction more. No thanks.

And why the fuck can't I watch a happy movie in this class? Next week is fucking City of God. AGAIN? Salaam Bombay? AGAIN? Heavenly Creatures? AGAIN?

The Death ships and Icarus: Westermann meets Breughel

I visited the Lennon, Weinberg Gallery in Soho (it has since relocated to Chelsea) when I was eleven years old. Other installations were up, but they were of no concern to my mother or to Jill Weinberg who was showing us to the Deathship exhibition. For H. C. Westermann was my great-uncle and my mother had in the past two years inherited responsibility over his estate and artwork since his spouse, my mother's aunt, Joanna Beall had passed away. This was one of my first encounters with Cliff's work (his nickname and what he preferred to go by) as I had visited his amazing home in Connecticut earlier. It may seem like I'm bragging, but I have always been proud of being related, though not by blood, to him and though he was a difficult human being, like we all are, I feel his work has influenced me and will always do so. This series of sculpture and paintings had a massive impact on my perception of what art is. Until that time, I had always considered art a serious business. Though the topics of the exhibition were quite morbid and solemn, there was an element of playful detail to the works, especially seen in the Untitled (Death Ship) covered in dollar bills and The Kamikaze which twists the idea of kamikaze pilots on its head, where a ship dives towards an airplane in the middle of a desert landscape. These works were so important to understanding Cliff. They all came from his very real experiences of being a gunner on the USS Enterprise during the end of  WWII and his witnessing a kamikaze attack on the USS Franklin. The memory of these Death Ships consumed him so that he sculpted and painted these watery coffins for about thirty years. There is very real tragedy to these pieces and strangely, what comes to mind is Breughel's Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, especially when paired with that last painting Death Ship in San Pedro. A battered and bloodied USS Enterprise lurches close to port, where on land a man walks by, rats scuttle past, and a noose like rope lies on the ground. The ship will never reach port and no one will come to receive it. It has been abandoned by those on land, for it carries death. In both of these paintings death occurs in the water, but this time the ship is the victim and not even many people are around to ignore it. Westermann was known for his surreal, violent, and often passionate landscapes. Where Breughel's piece holds some humor to it, Westermann's is hopeless, dark, and empty. But still with all of these pieces together in one room its hard to feel truly depressed. When I observed the works, I didn't understand the story and felt adrift in a watery graveyard of metal ships in wooden coffins. In my own work, I strive for this relevance of tone and content, but as well as the surreal and humorous nature Westermann's work possesses. His use of color is so odd; first it is subtle, then a moment or small object pops with some burst of color, like the lit window in the last painting. His breadth of materials is also stunning to me. Having seen other pieces at the MoMA or the Hirschhorn, his knowledge and mastery over wood, metal, and everything in between lets his work live and have a dynamic personality. I never met him and I am just starting to know him, but I feel in my heart he is a part of me like no other artist can be. 

Rococo - Sexy or Innocent?

First of all I would like to show you this comparative image.
This is a comparison of Fragonard's original "The Swing" and juxtaposed by Glen Keane's concept art for the newly in production "Rapunzel" by Disney. Glean Keane is an old world traditional animator and often looks to old masterpieces for inspiration in Disney films, for example he directly used Michelangelo's "Dying Slaves" as reference for the Beast's transformation scene in "Beauty and the Beast." Upon second glance, the influence is quite apparent. This film, Rapunzel, is unfortunately going to be his first film with 3d animation. 

PITY.

I also created my own work (pretty crappy I must say) which has two very strong meanings, at least I hope it does. 

Entitled "For the Love of God"

I looked at a lot of Pantocrators for reference on the hands, halo, and hair. Hope it makes sense. 

I'm beginning to really enjoy pens with India Ink, as the Brush pen I used does. It makes very strong lines and it feels much more comfortable than a pencil (ever since I broke my left middle finger). If you want to see more work, just ask me!