On Activisim and Escapism

People talk a lot about the juvenailia so prominent in the art world these days. The faux naive and childish get criticized as escapist. But activism is possibly also a form of escapism. Activity breeds a false sense of progress at times. I think if you really have to weigh whether or not our actions either active or apathetic make much of a difference, I honestly don't know. Maybe activists are trying to escape the fundamental truth of their powerlessness and impotence by making gestures that relive their guilt? And people blamed for being naive escapists are just embracing their powerlessness in some sort of Buddhist way and warming up to the reality of their own insignificance. I don't think there is anything wrong with either approach as long as there is always some sort of lingering possibility in the back of people's minds that they could be wrong.

Some Thoughts on Art

What is art? To me art is the name I give to the system I use to solve whatever problems arise in my life. Whatever I love or whatever bothers me, whatever it is I can put it into my art. I have the freedom to change my life in more than symbolic ways by using symbolic means. It is like my own little self guided therapy practice. I can use it to instigate situations I'm afraid of and to process emotions and thoughts that just circulate in my brain if i don't call them out and name them. It is like my journal, my diary, my dream log, my autobiography that unfolds before me and after me. I can't make sense of what I'm doing when I'm in the midst of it. I have to react impulsively and hope that in this impulsive reaction some sort of truth about my priorities shows itself. I can use art as a mechanism to prescribe more of whatever I feel like I'm lacking at the time. Maybe I'm too stressed out and just need to create a circumstance where I can have fun and don't feel pressured? Maybe I use it as a construct to force myself to learn certain skills that I might not get to learning without the pressure of a public showing. Like the tank project. It is a bit over my head in terms of craftsmanship but since I've been out of school craft has been on my mind a lot. I want to make more than just versions of what I envision. I want to make a fully realized version that doesn't get soft at the points where my skills break down. I don't want to be afraid to do something because I don't know how. I want to use art as a kick in my own ass. A reason to do things I might not otherwise get to. A mechanism to put positive pressure on myself to make progress and not be lazy about my life. I'm really happy that I committed to art in some way fairly early on because now I don't really see another realm I'd like to participate in more. Art is what I make it. It is really just an excuse to live a life that has a little more consciousness in it. A little more intentionality a little more poetry. Not lame poetry that makes flourishes when none are needed but the crude kind that rumbles along roughly yet still finds a special kind of beauty in the details of a confusing and awkward life. I don't need life to be extraordinary to feel like it has been extraordinary. Still in awe of the smallest details after all of this time. Still baffled by the most regular parts of life and still maintaining a childlike sense of wonder in the face of it all.

Thoughts on Research pt 1

Recently I have been thinking about what exactly it is that I want to do as an artist and more generally I guess just as a person. I have such a hard time really paring down what it is that I want to contribute or become an expert in.

When I was in grad school I don't think I fully understood what my research was supposed to be. I didn't get it. I was so busy trying to figure myself out from the inside out that I forgot that it also works in reverse. Now that i have a little breathing room and don't feel quite as schizophrenic about the voices in my head I feel like I'm in a better place to begin letting things in again. I think I got really paranoid once I realized how easily influenced I was and as a result I got too scared to actively seek input from unfamiliar outside sources. I felt like I had a whole backlog of things to process and sift through in the hopes of getting them out of my system so that I could stop digesting all this old stuff and look for some new grist for the mill.

I still feel like I haven't come close to the kind of ambitious work I'd like to get to. I keep finding new levels to aspire to, new ways to tie more of my interests together. It feels really good to know I have more work to do.

In Defense of Investigation pt 1

I think some of the reason I'm hesitant to show my single media work is that I feel oddly torn between not wanting to claim to be a "professional" in a medium I haven't really trained in and not wanting to let that not knowing stop me from doing anything. Maybe there can be boldness in failure? Can I be someone who is aware of real skill in certain media, skill that I may not have, may never have ... can I let that knowledge stop me from doing it? Should I? Can I dedicate my life to something I might never be best at? Is that a worthy way to make decisions? If we all had to be the best at what we did to do it, who could do anything at all? Like who knows without trying where their skills and interests are? So maybe it is only through this process of trying on different hats that anyone ever gets to "find themselves" in art or anywhere else. Mythology demands that we do it privately. It only wants us fully formed and unmuddied. But life is complex and uncertain. So I'm with life on this one.

I"M BAAAACK

So it's been awhile since I posted anything here. I have been busy going through my rookie year of teaching and just generally trying to get my bearings in my post school phase. When I started this I think I had a pretty narrow view of what it should include but now I'm thinking I'll just let it all hang out so we'll see. I'll post a few little rants from the last 6 months or so to get it started again.

Corn Maize

So the other night a few of us decided to go out to the corn maze on Sauvie island. It was cold and just about dark. We met up with some of Boo's friends from work and paid the seven bucks to get our lost on. I'll be damned if it wasn't the muddiest bitch of a slog that I've been on in a spell. It was still fun ... although I was really just wanting it to be over while it was happening. Anyway you might imagine that this little event did little to improve my reputation for grumpiness which is a polite way to say bitchdom.

Sophia MacLaren Spurdle

So these two really close family friends of mine ended up getting together awhile ago and they made a baby. I was real excited to see it during my visit because babies are cool and weird and they're supposed to smell like puppies. It was also exciting because I really love the people who made it.

Holding babies is odd. I am big. They are small. I am not sure how I'm supposed to hold them particularly in front of their parents. I was afraid they were gonna be like "you're doing it wrong.. stop hurting my baby" etc.. Are they fragile or resilient? Anyway this little girl was not in the best of moods when I was holding her. She seemed generally pissed off and squirmy. She would crab at me and shift around erratically (which would be a disease if she was bigger). All of a sudden I feel this rumble and a horrid smell followed. I heard babies weren't supposed to stink because they only eat what nature intended and that their little systems are built for digesting it. Wrong. This kid dropped a bomb that would make your favorite uncle's eyes water, and right after she did she broke out the biggest smile. I tried not to take it personally but the way she smiled seemed sly and slightly evil (which I found completely endearing). This photo caught me right in the process of handing her back to her mom.