application season at RISCA

A sample page from absolutely the worst online grant application EVER.

Practicing

Here's a new artists' statement I'm working on. It took shape as I was running the dog along the water this afternoon. Writing an accurate and succinct statement is so difficult. I have so much to say, yet I want the work to speak for itself. Here goes version one:

"Three themes continue to emerge and overlap in my practice: the artist at play in the studio, the fanstastical nature of the carnivalesque, and an investigation of the supernatural. At best, the resulting work creates an uncanny and whimsical universe all its own."

The imagination is an ambiguous and untidy place

Last night I was driving home from Pawtucket to my parents' house in Warren, when Garrison Keillor's "Writer's Almanac" came on the radio. Mr. Keillor read a quote from the poet Eavan Boland, to celebrate her birthday. I was struck by the piercing way she describes the division between her life and her work. Something there rang true.

"I'm a feminist. I'm not a feminist poet. I've said somewhere else that I think feminism has real power and authority as an ethic, but none at all as an aesthetic. My poetry begins for me where certainty ends. I think the imagination is an ambiguous and untidy place, and its frontiers are not accessible to the logic of feminism for that reason."

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2010/09/24

(for Kat)

coming B-K

Brooklyn Bound, October 7th.



Brooklyn, I'm sorry I talked bad about you back in '08, and I'm so excited to see you again.

pools and walks and mice and men

George and I have been trying to live in the poolhouse. The electricity seems to be a bit ad hoc (re: extremely dangerous) and we've both been shocked. We have a new fridge now, and we're waiting for the electrictian to get to us and put in some new wiring. Something tried to hide under the stairs, and died there. I am sad for the sizable creature that died, and also sad for the smell that it left behind. We haven't been able to enter our poolhouse condo for about a week, but It's getting better now. I think we'll bring a sage stick in there later to clean the air. Better to hang out outside, better still up on the roof.

Jenny&Johnny

Last night GT and I went to see Jenny and Johnny (Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice) at the Met Café in Pawtucket, RI. Pawtucket is right next to Providence, and George and I have our studios there. The brand spankin' new Met Cafe is in the swank artist/music/condo/restaurant complex with the unfortunate title of "Hope Artiste Village." It's really a very nice place overall, but I find myself swallowing that awful middle word when I speak its name.

Anyway, when I was growing up, my friend Lilli and I would sneak off to Lupo's and the Met Café all the time to go see rock bands. The two were adjacent mama-and-baby clubs on Westminster Street in Downtown Providence. The spaces where they were located are now, respectively, nothing (Lupo's) and a fairly excellent-if-aesthetically-challenged black lady hair supply store (The Met). I loved growing up in Providence, and all the great music was a big part of it. Of course the whole time I was back in town for grad school there was a terrible, tragic dearth of good music to see (I remember TVOTR, Lucinda Williams and Snoop Dogg as the only big ticket items of interest over two years).

Well, now that the Met has re-opened I can waltz right up and buy tickets to see my favorite indie darlings on the eve of the show once more. One of the privileges of living in a little town between Boston and New York is that great bands sometimes stop and play on their way though, and you can see them without the crappy big city hassle (see: any show at Irving Plaza). Also, this club is just the right size.

And if you have a super new camera, as I do, you can take some pictures of the band. Jenny & Johnny are doing a real Gram & Emmylou type-of number, and they are doing it well.

Collage Commission

So, here are a couple of the new "Edible Portrait" collages for Bergdorf Goodman.
These comprise four out of the twenty I produced in about ten days.
I am looking forward to seeing them printed and framed!

Moving House

Well, there's been no time for blogging. First, we moved. George leapt on the bed to make sure it would hold us. (and that's Josh Webb's beautiful eagle sculpture, knocked crooked on the wall.)

Then, I worked. I made a series of commissions for the new cafeteria at Bergdorf Goodman, (more on that later) George worked in Cape Cod and visited his family in Virginia, I started to teach art at a nearby prep school (just for a brief stint), and things moved FAST.

Once George and I were both home and free from insane deadlines, we could try to finish the poolhouse-living-quarters, and walk the dog behind the house.

Susan at the Magic Club

Last night things looked bleak. I was hot, couldn't find anything I needed in my piles of suitcases, and was starting my second job at six pm. It looked to be a long evening. I discovered that I could make digital collages in front of my parents giant flat screen TV, though, and Desperately Seeking Susan was on. It was so good. I think it might be getting better with age or nostalgia. I happily counted the following people in their young and gorgeous punky days:

1. Madonna (young, wild-eyebrowed)
2. Rosanna Arquette (seriously stacked)
3. Adian Quinn (super-handsome)
4. John Turturro (already the best actor in the movie)
5. John Lurie (pre-crazy, playing sax through a curtained window)
6. Steven Wright (looked exactly the same, actually)
7. Laurie Metcalf (amazing makeup)

8. I think maybe Penelope Ann Miller (with what looked like an amazing Brooklyn- Grandma "Violet Wash" hair tint)

9. And some dude named Robert Joy who played Jim, the boyfriend. I remembered that I had a weird crush on him because I liked his hair.

Of course, the jacket is still totally boss.


Post-Script:
I would like to note that I do realize that this post reveals my “Nerd Skill,” which was identified on a recent trip to Southampton. A Nerd Skill, as it was explained to me, is a slightly embarrassing and often unintentional ability to recall any type of specialized trivia (I think that definition is about right). My skill, obviously, is to remember the names of actors and films - and musicians. I can’t help it. For the record, I would love to trade some of this memory storage for some abilities in math, computer science, or entrepreneurial ideas.

Strangely, the kryptonite to this particular power is that I cannot remember the endings of things. I have no memory of the final act of books, plays, or films. I guess I keep watching things repeatedly because the end is always a surprise. And subsequently, the actors names are drilled into my head.