Back to insane journaling for the self? lots of blabbering
7:00 PM 5/6/2011
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I love spring cleaning.
It all started when I brought in the model from the car. The life-size model that mom used to have in the studio - she sits and crosses her legs, and leans over with her arms crossed. Very elegant and naked, and the back half of her cranium is missing. (she also has cracked knees and elbows from an accident years ago) I had my drawing workshop students draw her on their last day.
Anyway, I needed to make space for her in the basement, so I condensed some things and broke down some old cardboard boxes. In the process I found 2 bags of old stuffed animals.
I brought them up, found a tiny bit of mold on pouty bear's plastic face - I cleaned it and let the rest of the animals air out in the sunlight. Just me and the stuffed AMINALS hangin out on the porch! Most of the larger animals I am going to pass on. I'll keep the smaller ones and the really old ones from WAY WAY back.
While now in full clean-mode, I decided to FINALLY mop the bathroom and kitchen. WHOA. All I'm saying is that I'm QUITE happy about this decision.
Also, sorting some things in the basement, I noticed that it smelled a little funny so I worked on that problem too. (sprayed some light cleaner with bleach on the problem wall, and mopped a bit since I already had mop-water.)
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BUT... after lunch and watching BONES during lunch, I got stuck on the internet and finding other things. I found my old journals. The Printed ones. I used to copy my online blogs into word, and print them on various paper with really tiny text - I then cut them up and taped them into real journals. This is great because I actually look back at them from time to time, and typing is so much easier to read than hand-writing. I stopped printing in Feb 09, but I think I'll pick iu up again. I realize that I keep my own thoughts generally to myself now. I blog my art stuff and big happenings, I bullet point things that happened in the day in my sketchbook,
but after reading some of my printed journals in the past, I miss those deeper, more explained thought processes.
Even if I don't share it online, I'm going to get back into that habit. Starting with THIS page!
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Now, to get back to art. I need to finish painting a charity birdhouse by Monday.
I also need to finish grading my art appreciation homework by Monday.
*Put the computer down Lydia, before you develop biomechanical roots!*
11:51 PM 5/6/2011
This has been a very busy day!! (strangely enough I feel that I was lazy most of the day) And a lot of writing. (does this mean I'm procrastinating or practicing my written skills?)
After the mind-flipping episode of Fringe, D and I swooped down to the Art Box to see their First Friday show of works on paper. Initially there to see WDR's stuff, I also encountered Bruce Moore's works on Yupo and other mixed media work that I found completely fascinating (transluscent and transparent abstract shapes layered via clear resin layers) Very awesome. I also FINALLY saw Robert Pulley's new work! He had an opening in the past month or so that I missed - he is a friend and teacher from my home town. I had completely forgotten about his work being at the Art Box, and was taken by pleasant surprise.
ok, back to art.
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1:56 AM 5/7/2011
The charity Birdhouse is done. Abstract colorful background, abstract trees, abstract bird on the front, and 2 found poems on each side of the roof. These are phrases and words cut from novels, ficton and non. They read as if pulled from a dream.
"Fluffy White Feathers were suspended from a circular chandelier.
Two great white wings swayed back and forth.
They have great power already...
Then inexerably, light from the sanctuary materialized and
dozens of tiny feathers waved wildly above the branches.
Something like laughter pounded the trees. "
"Standing deeper in the grove, light fading,
at least for the moment.
Two black feathers chimed.
Something had unleashed smoke.
Sudden and surprising,
a half-grown figure started to emerge
wildly creeping forward
Beneath his cloaklike wings
crystal arms sprouted.
The resulting movement reveales broken bits of questions."
I will post photos on another day. Right now I'm interested in the images conjured by just the poem.