Art – Page 68 – red paper boat

Hemp Bound Journal

December 25, 2005October 5, 2015 Shelly

I uploaded a couple more pages from the hemp bound journal. One is kind of meh, but I like the poem that accompanies it. The other is visually more interesting, but the poem isn’t as good. That’s about par for the course. The poems are part of the Creation Myth series I’ve been playing with.

This journal was a great idea, but it ended up being a royal pain in the arse to work in. The pages are nice and heavy, which I like, but the brown color gives me a mental block. I keep pulling out the gesso and waxed paper to try to cope with the unending brown. I wonder why that bothers me, but white paper doesn’t?

A Question of Ghosts
December 22, 2005

If we were soaked in the practice
Mechanisms of truth
Lost in the work
Sanded and rectified
Stuck tight to what seemed fitting
What was lately manipulated
Encouraged
Then killed,If, all around us
The ghosts were deserting,
Would we become gods
Woe takers and lightning makers
The careful sculptors of bones and
Guardians of the lesser portion?

Three Things
December 6, 2005

Three things
Are not four things.
Three things
Are sharper than knives,
Silent famines of thought that
Shine silver like moons in the dark.

Three things are perfectly cold
By intent
By design
By the deadliest scheme.

Three things are ancient wheels
That turn in the night,
Near misses and reflections.
Three things
Are stitching thought to flesh to deed,
Bone drawing blood slickened sinew.
Three things are problematic monsters
Ministering, waiting, and watching.

Art, Crankypantsing, Meta

I’ll Take Potpourri for $200, Alex

December 16, 2005January 16, 2016 Shelly

Here’s a look at marginalia.

I have had about a million discussions about the proper care and handling of books, both from the perspective of a caretaker and an owner. A common sentiment among bibliophiles is that modifying a book in any way is an act of vandalism. Book ownership as a trusteeship; we should preserve our books for future generations, so that they might experience those books as they were originally published. I don’t buy that argument, though. A book is a living thing. The very act of reading it transforms it. From oils in your hands, which over time develop into stains, to creases along the spine, a book that has been read bears scars that testify to its life’s travels. When further transformed, by the addition of annotations, a book becomes a unique and priceless historical document. Not that my marginalia have any pretensions to such importance, but I think they are a far cry from vandalism.

One of my favorite high school teachers said that, if you hadn’t written in a book, you hadn’t truly read it. I don’t know that that’s strictly true, but being given the permission to write in text books dramatically changed the learning process for me. From that point on, I underlined, bracketed, highlighted, dog-eared, and took notes in the margins, all with great glee and abandon. Books became living things I interacted with, instead of passive things that simply existed to be read. Thank you, Mrs. Taylor, for that, and for a whole lot of other stuff. You were one of the bestest teachers EVAR.

I mention this, because it relates to my next altered book project. I still don’t have anything concrete enough to share, but it shall be forthcoming. Soon!

A Festivus for the Restivus? I used to dislike Seinfeld, but then I moved to the Land of No Cable, and discovered that when there’s nothing else on television, Seinfeld isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s occasionally damned good. There’s rarely a day that goes by that something Seinfeldian doesn’t crop up. Right now, as it’s the Solstice Season (Bill O’Reilley can kiss my fat ass), I feel like work is nothing but a revolving staff party. I hate staff parties. I don’t go to them, it makes me cranky to get the inevitable food sign-up memos, and I especially hate the twelfty gabillion e-mails counting down the commencement of the inevitable party. The worst, though, is when higher-ups go around corralling and shaming anti-social folks like me into attending. That especially pisses me off.

So, a co-worker called this morning (I’ve mentioned that I’m the only one who seems able to answer the phone?), asking me to go downstairs to meet her at the loading dock with a book truck, so that she could deliver goodies for this afternoon incarnation of The Party. I was not amused. Not amused in the least. It’s enough to make the Baby Jeebus cry. And, if that doesn’t do it, maybe this will? I mean, who wouldn’t want a menorah made out of tampons?

If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly brimful of the Holiday Spirit, whatever the hell that is. Not even the Viggo Mortensen Advent calendar has been able to ungrinchify me.

And now for a quick game of Statstacularity. I have to wonder if the folks who get to my blog or websites via a search engine bother to read the accompanying descriptive text. Because, somehow, I don’t think they do. Otherwise, the person searching for “ejaculating penis photos” probably wouldn’t have bothered visiting. I’m just sayin’… Also, “n.u.d.e. celebrity photos.” And, what’s up with acronymization? Is it supposed to be some sort of super s33kr1t code? I’m still getting lots of hits for puggles and “winter sky,” though singly, not in combination. There’s a thought, though. Imagine a Pug x Beagle, ears outstretched, soaring majestically through the brooding winter sky.

And since I’m in the mood to pick nits (whenever am I not?), the Maya people speak Mayan. There is no -n on the end of the word when it refers to the people themselves, or when it refers to their artifacts. It’s one thing for regular folks to get it wrong, but there is just no excuse for news editors not knowing the difference. That said, this mural is pretty damned cool. What’s special about it is that it dates from ~100BCE, which is 200 years before the classic period. These may be the earliest Maya wall paintings to be discovered.

This portion of the mural depicts a king making a blood sacrifice by piercing his penis. The practice was common among Maya rulers, who bore responsibility for the well being of their subjects. The genitals or tongue would be pierced using either an obsidian blade or a stingray spine. Pieces of bark paper were soaked in the blood, or, in some cases, ropes made of bark paper were pulled through holes pierced through the skin. The blood-soaked paper would then be burned in an offering to the gods.

To the ancient Maya, blood sacrifice was necessary for the survival of the gods, who in turn provided the Maya with everything they needed. The gods could not exist without the Maya, and the Maya could not exist without their gods.

I’m all blogged out, but since I invoked Viggo up there somewhere, I’ll leave you on this note:

I’m not anti-Bush; I’m anti-Bush behavior. In other words, I’m against cheating, greed, cruelty, racism, imperialism, religious fundamentalism, treason, and the seemingly limitless capacity for hypocrisy shown by Bush and his administration.
— Viggo Mortensen

Art, Photography

Winter Ramblings

December 13, 2005October 5, 2015 Shelly

After last week’s episode of Adventures in Driving, I ended up staying home all weekend for an extended snow holiday. I wish I could say I got lots of important stuff accomplished, but mostly, I slept, played with the dog, slept, read books, slept, played with the dog, and slept some more. Also, I slept. And played with the dog. Apparently, I had a lot of sleeping to catch up on, which was good, because I ended up staying up way past my bedtime last night. I had to watch the finale of Survivor, dontchaknow?

Anyway, the long weekend was a much-needed mini mental health holiday. I did finally get around to clearing the rest of the snow off the deck and car yesterday, before it could refreeze into a sheet of ice. Since I still haven’t bought a window scraper, I figured I’d better plan ahead. That was about the most constructive thing I did. Alas, it was only marginally helpful.

When I pulled in on Thursday–after unsticking myself after I slid off the road–I’d been waffling about leaving the car in 4WD. Should I or shouldn’t I? I finally decided on “should,” and was damned glad of it this morning. We’d gotten just enough sleet yesterday, then snow overnight, to make the lane close to impossible to navigate. It was that yucky almost-freezing slush that, when compacted (by, like, feet or car tires), turns to ice. So, of course, I ended up sliding sideways into the neighbors’ yard again. Did I mention that they’ve got a pond that is disturbingly close to the road? It’s not so scary when going up the lane, but coming down it, if you slide off in the right place–and, of course, I did–you feel like you’re aimed right at it. Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I was able to get myself out and get onto the public road without too much trouble, but even so, that’s not what I wanted to be doing at 5am.

I love cold and snow–truly I do–but (obviously!) I hate to drive in it. I also can’t stand the dreary Indiana winters. The sun finally came out today, which helped, but we’ll soon return to the endless monotony of grey, grey, grey. And more snow on Wednesday, too, likely mixed with sleet and freezing rain and all the vile crap that takes all the fun out of snowdays. Humph.

So, about Survivor… I wasn’t really keen on any of the final contestants after Gary was voted out. It was more a matter of who I didn’t want to win (isn’t that usually the case?) As far as I was concerned, as long as Judd didn’t win, I would’ve been happy. Stephanie not winning was a bonus, though. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t like her. She was whiny and negative this time around. Or, maybe, she was always that way and I didn’t notice it previously? Either way, I wasn’t impressed with her.

Judd, though, was another matter. Talk about rude, obnoxious, petulant, mean, selfish, arrogant, and ignorant. I really can’t think of anything nice to say about him. He was a complete ass, to the point that I often had to turn the channel because I couldn’t stand the embarrassment factor. I had to laugh, though, when he had a melt-down because Stephanie had the audacity to not share information with him. Specifically, she didn’t tell him that she and the others had decided to vote him out. Can you blame her, after the shit fits he threw when others dared to cross him? Who in their right mind would want to invite one of his diatribes? Why on earth it came as a surprise to him that others–even those in his alliance–would perhaps not share all their cards with him, is a mystery to me. It happens in real life, and a competition such as Survivor is bound to intensify the behavior. No matter how well you know someone, trust them, and believe they have your best interests in mind, you simply cannot share everything with them. Aside from the fact that humans need a psychological buffer, it’s just not possible to share every waking thought with another person. Nor, if you’re trying to ultimately get an advantage over others, is it desirable.

Speaking of things that make me go hmmm, there was a recent discussion in the Collage Museum group (I believe the archives are public) about art vs. craft. This is one of those topics that pops up regularly, and never fails to ruffle feathers and knot knickers. Why, I’ll never figure out if I live to be a gazillion. In this go-round–which produced some meaty food for thought–someone took offense at another person’s definitions of the two terms. Several others chimed in to define and explain their points of view. Then, for some mind boggling reason, someone else started tsk-tsking, and demanded that the subject be dropped, because it offended her. Yet another person also requested the subject be discontinued, because he is “very busy” and cannot be bothered to read voluminous posts covering such piddling matters. M’kaythen. Are these last two people adults, or what? If they’re busy, or offended, then stop reading. Don’t expect others to do your censoring for you. Would you walk into a party, decide you didn’t like the music, and proceed to demand that the hosts and/or guests cater to your wishes to have it changed? You could, I suppose, but I wouldn’t recommend it, as it’s in spectacularly bad taste.

I’m quite happy to report that, though my experience with Yahoo groups is that the list owner will almost always shut down a discussion if anyone starts whinypantsing, the owner of the Collage Museum group did not do so. Good for him.

Vaguest Teaser Evar, AHOY!1!! Speaking of art, I’ve got a new altered book idea. I haven’t started on it, and the concept hasn’t coalesced enough to describe, but I don’t think it’ll be long before I’m ready to begin. I’ll post more when it starts to take shape.

[The above photographs depict the Belt of Venus, taken 5 December 2005. The Belt of Venus is the strip of pinkish color sandwiched between the blue sky (above) and the darker blue shadow of the earth (below). It appears after sunset and before sunrise, along the horizon opposite the sun. The top two photos show the dark shadow more clearly, just above the horizon. In the bottom picture, it’s a faint band nestled just above the dip at the center of the ridge line. It’s nice to have periodic reminders of why I put up with crappy Indiana weather. The gorgeous landscape is a major one.]

Art, Artist Books, Collage

New Vessels

November 17, 2005October 5, 2015 Shelly

Merry-Go-Round
10 x 14 1/2 inches
collage on paper

Mathematics
7 1/4 x 10 inches
collage on chip board

These are the two newest additions to the Vessels book. Someday I’ll finish the content, so that I can bind it. The only problem is that, as soon as I do, I’ll end up with more stuff to put in it. I’m not very happy with the top one; the bottom one turned out much better, I think. There are also some nit-picky problems with the scans. I’ll probably re-scan them before uploading them to the website. If I don’t, they’ll annoy the crap out of me.

Obviously, we didn’t get sucked up in a tornado last night. The winds were intense, though. The weather guys on Channel 10 were guestimating that we’d get overnight gusts of up to 80mph. I don’t know if it got that windy, but it sure sounded like it did. I got almost no sleep, and decided to chicken out on trying to drive to work this morning, because I hate driving in the wind. It was a good thing, too, because my car title finally came this afternoon. Whee! I haven’t a clue why it took so long, but my second temporary plate expires on the 20^th, so I’m glad it came when it did.

Now, to clean up the unholy mess I made arting and figure out what to make for supper. Hmmm.

Altered Books, Art, Collage, Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Friday Round-up (Are We There Yet?)

September 9, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

I Carry a Picture in My Teeth

Meme-tacularity: I normally don’t get meme-y here. They bore me to tears on other people’s blogs, but I saw this on Creating Text(iles) and it amused the hell out of me. So:

You are Joan of Arc! You don’t really want to hurt anyone, but if they attack your friends or your country and no-one else will stand up to fight them, you head into the battle. Beware though, conviction tends to get you killed. (Which Saint Are You? brought to you by Quizilla)

Basically, I hate taking any sort of leadership roll, but if I’m forced to, heads will roll. Which is not inconsistent with what the Myers-Briggs personality test has to say about me (iNFj).

Anyway, a while back, I was asked to contribute artwork for the cover of an anthology of poetry. They ultimately chose to use a page I’d done in an altered book (above). The piece was inspired by a song called John Dark (if it were a rose of another name, it would be called Jeanne d’Arc).

Craptacularity: In other news… Today got off to a less than stellar start. I woke up at midnight and didn’t get back to sleep until nearly 4am, so I’m tired and cranky and my back hurts from tossing and turning all night. The bathroom light burned out, and I had to fumble around in the dark to put a new bulb in, almost stepping on the cat in the process. While I was in the shower, the gas company started cutting down brush along the easement (at 7am!). Harriet, who is normally very quiet, decided to sound the Intruder Alert. I had to get out of the shower, see what what she was barking about, tell her the sky was not falling, then get back in the shower to finish rinsing my hair. Blech. Then, I was a dork and turned on the microwave while I was making toast, and had to go reset the breaker and re-toast my breakfast. Naturally, after the toast was done, I forgot to finish heating up my tea water.

Hopefully, all that craptacularity will mean that the rest of the day goes smoothly. I’m not holding my breath or anything, though.

Friday Dogblogging, Starring Harriet Brown the Canine Corkscrew:

Isn’t she the cutest thing ever? I love watching her wallow around. She’s one of the twistiest dogs I’ve ever met. What cracks me up is that she’ll stay in that position for quite a long time. I can’t imagine that it’s comfortable, but it seems to work for her.

Harriet’s a funny, funny dog, in both definitions of the word. She’s a typical Boxer, in that she loves to make people laugh. She’s got a great sense of humor and will do anything for a joke. She’s got a serious, sensitive side, though, and is changeable, so you never know which Harriet you’ll get. It’s like getting two dogs for the price of one. She’s nothing at all like Elliott, who was thoroughly consistent. He was always sunny and gregarious and pretty much just happy to be. Harriet is like having hot- and cold-running Boxer.

Okey Cokey Pig in a Pokey: I’m half-way through season three of The League of Gentlemen. Dear God. It’s truly brilliant. The plot keeps twisting and weaving like an inebriated acrobat. It’s funny and disgusting and I can’t wait to see what happens next. Oh, and the extras are damned good, too. I recommend re-watching the episodes with the commentary on. If you can get your hands on the Christmas episode, watch that, too. It contains three horror vignettes that are priceless, as well as tv and radio interviews and old footage.

A Bone Dry Moon: I learned an interesting bit of weather lore yesterday. A friend’s mother said that she’d been taught that a dry moon meant it would not rain. Last night’s crescent moon was dry. It was supposed to rain yesterday and today, but so far, we’ve gotten bupkis, and the radar is crystal clear. I know it’s just coincidence, but it’s interesting, nonetheless.

Image credit: A Blue Crescent Moon from Space, Expedition 13 Crew, International Space Station, NASA, from APOD.

Altered Books, Art, Drawings, Pets

Pencil Study

August 27, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

I haven’t been motivated to do very much today, so I decided to watch a DVD and sketch. Harriet joined me on the couch, and was obliging enough to let me draw her paw (front left).

Dogs are sometimes a little funny about being closely scrutinized. Usually, after a few minutes of being stared at, Harriet gives me a disgusted look and hies herself to her crate in the bedroom. This time, she was quite cooperative. However, I’m a slow worker (this drawing took about 15 minutes), and this was the last of five studies, so she was getting a little rebellious toward the end.

I find Boxers nice to draw because they’re so sleek and lean. The tendons and muscle definition are obvious because there is no coat to hide them. They also have prominent veins in their legs. I think they look a bit like race horses, in that respect.

Art, Crankypantsing, Journals, Ladybusiness

A Public Service Announcement

August 27, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

Here’s some friendly advice. When you apply for a job, read the ad carefully. If the ad specifies that the applicant must be detail oriented, read it twice. Because if you don’t, you might miss such subtleties as “for application, e-mail xxxx@yyyyy.zzz.” What that means is, do not call me to ask how to apply. Do not drop by to ask for an application. Basically, do not make my life any more complicated than it already is. An applicant who calls me twice, then drops by, is not going to be very high on my list of People I Just Have to Hire. An applicant who calls me twice, then drops by and proceeds to preemptively flood me with the answer to every conceivable interview question, after being told “Thank you, I’ll be contacting people this afternoon to set up interviews,” is not going to be anywhere on my list of People I Just Have to Hire. I don’t care how qualified you are for the job, you aren’t getting it because you cannot listen and are incapable of following directions. Those are Very Important job skills and their lack makes you ineligible to work for me.

On the other hand (lest you think I’m the world’s meanest jerkface), I don’t care if you’re late for work–or how often you’re late–as long as you make up the time. I’m not going to ask you for a doctor’s note every time you call in sick. You’re welcome to arrange your schedule to suit yourself, and to rearrange it whenever the fancy strikes you. I don’t care how you dress. I don’t care if you listen to music while working, or what sort of music you listen to. As long as you do your work well, I really don’t care what else you do or don’t do. Just don’t make my life difficult.

My journal entry from whence yesterday’s blathering originated:

Speak Up
8 3/4 x 11 3/8 inches

I’d like to invite comments on the following scenario. Suppose Person A calls Person B a slur (choose your own, but in this case, the word cunt has repeatedly been lobbed about). Person B responds that Person A is a misogynist. Person C claims that Person A’s and Person B’s actions are equivalent–in other words, they both called each other names, so they’re even. What, if any, difference is there between Person A’s and Person B’s actions?

Addendum: Furthermore, does calling Person A a misogynist make Person B a cunt, even if she wasn’t before? And, does the sex (or race, if you substitute a racial slur) of Persons A, B, or C make a difference?

Thank you, audience, for playing along at home.

Art

And Now For Something Completely Different…

August 24, 2005October 5, 2015 Shelly

Nick Cave, edition 4/10, 1987

Have I mentioned that I think Nick Cave is some sort of deity? Well, I do. And, apparently, I did.

In an effort to procrastinate and waste time, I spent Sunday evening going though the contents of a box of junk I’ve been carting around for years. I found a bunch of old sketchbooks, journals, and class notes from high school (that was a riot in itself). I also found evidence of my one and only foray into the world of linocuts.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my heart belonged to Mr. Cave even in those days. The print is undated, but I must have done it in 1986/7. Go ahead and laugh, I am! I was such a little Goth Girl, only back then, we called it Death Rock. Cuz, you know, rocks are, um, dead. Or something.

Anyway…

I know I took a quarter of “printmaking” in high school, but for the life of me, I can’t remember doing anything except this pitiful little linocut. We were supposed to do woodcut, linocut, and serigraphy. I still have the extremely cool (and worn full of holes) shirt that Jayne silkscreened for that class, but I didn’t get much accomplished that quarter. By golly, though, I’ve got Nick, and that’s what counts, right?

Art, Artist Books, Collage, Ladybusiness

Color Erratica: Magenta and Orange

August 22, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

Museum of Femoribilia

Girls

Did She Fake

Be Ready
10 x 6 1/4 inches
new and vintage magazine ads, wrapping paper, page from vintage children’s activity book, 1920s yearbook photos, and soap wrapper

The latest round of Color Erratica pages, this time in magenta and orange. The monitor I’m viewing them on right now is, I think, uncalibrated, because the colors look off. They were fine on my own machine.

I took more of a gluebook approach to my pages in this book. I was reluctant to use any wet media, because the pages of the book had been glued together by the owner. Where others had used wet media, the paper has buckled and the glue is failing (you can see the buckling in the first page).

Journals, Photography

Sunset and Journaling

July 28, 2005October 1, 2015 Shelly

Last night’s sunset was spectacularly vivid. The sky was an intense cerulean and the clouds were neon pink. I managed to get some pictures before it had faded too much.

The weather did, indeed, turn lovely, just as our trusty weatherdude promised. With lows in the crispy upper 50sF, it was perfect for sleeping. I was so comfortable when my alarm went off this morning that I didn’t want to get out of bed. Sleeping all day was, alas, not on my To Do list, though.

Now, on to journaling. I belong to a few art journaling mail lists. I enjoy discussing materials, motivation, inspiration, etc., and these lists are a good place to do that. Probably the most frequent topic of discussion is “journaler’s block.” Folks post, asking for help with visual how-to guides and idea prompts, because they’re drawing a blank or, worse, they are intimidated by their journals. I think everyone who expresses themselves creatively has experienced the former. In my experience, there is an ebb and flow to creativity. Some days the muse dogs your every move, bullying you until you pay attention to her and other days she can’t be coaxed into coming to the party. As an artist, you learn to deal with her fickleness in your own way.

The latter problem is a whole ‘nother kettle of fishes. I really feel for people who are intimidated by their own journals. I don’t know how you help someone in that position. To me a journal is just an extension of my own mental space; a sort of back-up drive for my brain, where I can dump the stuff that swirls around in my head. Otherwise, it will drive me to distraction. And, we don’t want that, do we?

Hemp Bound Journal: Spine

I think this is why it’s difficult for me to understand or offer advice to someone who is intimidated by their journal. To me, that means that what they really fear is the stuff that swirls around in their heads. Or, perhaps they just don’t have the skills to access the swirly stuff? I’m not sure it matters either way, as all the encouragement and journaling tips in the world are unlikely to help the person because the real problem isn’t just your garden variety Mental Block.

Maybe what the intimidated person needs to do is offer a formal invitation to her muse. Ask her over for a cocktail or a cup of coffee and have a little chat with her. Maybe the two of you can come to a mutually beneficial agreement?

Now, if I can just stay connected long enough to upload this. I swear, if the digital divide were any larger, I’d be back in the Stone Age. Apparently, us rural folks don’t merit either a stable dial-up connection, much less any kind of broadband option. I’d be happy with a 14.4kbs transfer rate. I just want to be able to get on-line.