Monday, December 31, 2012

good late afternoon for debris reduction


long day of playing upon return to the micro forest and hermitage results in a passed out pup in the cold rain drizzled grass of my mini meadow.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

mmm. my new steel tip pretties!

yay! I may actually be the easiest woman to shop for...ever! thanks for me new glass (steel tipped) slippers bro!

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

yay opening. not so far off :)

Opening Friday, January 18, 6-11pm
Artist talk @ 6:30 pm

Art League Houston
1953 Montrose Blvd
Houston, TX 77006

it is true, she may actually be the best dog ever!

random moment of affection. I love my dog; she is so happy it just lightens every moment and she makes me laugh out loud. I am pretty sure E-Dogamony would not have made a better match. I am grateful she adopted me as her human.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

ahhh, my new portable pretty

finally broke down and replaced my pancake with one that rolls and occupies the same floor space. yay! ok well, truth be told, I did spill a gallon of wood glue across the control panel of my pancake and I just couldn't rescue it from what ran down into the control panel. my bad. great excuse to get a rolling compressor which is incredibly helpful since work location is dependent on project.

Friday, December 14, 2012

test run for upcoming exhibition

a test run for a sense of scale of chair to space (11') at art league houston (opening January 18, 2013). yay, it visually fits with the slick gray floor providing a fabulous contrast. bonus, i can see how the lighting will extend the work visually. i previously measured, measurements are important to get the work through the door but don't really give me a feel for how the work occupies the space. over the next couple of weeks, i will explode apart a table constructed from doors. for the first time every (besides the magnificent Dean Liscum, the art slave, writer and real job holder, and the wonderous Michael Henderson, who probably helped me load or unload almost every show I've had), i will be using studio assistants to complete my work. i have mixed feelings about this because i love to make the work, get dirty and sense my way along. i simply can't do all that i imagine in the time frame i have and the various other academic tasks i have laid out before me for my christmas "break." i suppose i wouldn't have it any other way. but there are definitely times i wish i were a painter and cashed in the winning lotto (not really). i am looking forward to my studio assistants' help and company (some of my past students). it will be a first for me.

it is interesting working on a show that i proposed so long ago (2009). i can see by reviewing my original proposal how i thought healing would come much quicker than reality and faster than statistics indicated (4-5:1 statistically clockwork I am coming out of the other side. not sure how i feel about being statistically predictable). the show, as originally and still titled, the uncontrollable nature of grief and forgiveness (or lack there of), was intended to uncover the full grief process, moving from dark to light. instead the show, in its current form, will simply bare witness to the unbearable weightiness of grief and the burden of unforgiveness.

on a separate note, a fun surprise was throwing the chair into the space with the current artists' work in place prepared for tonights opening. it gave me ideas for future derivatives inspired by chalkboard like structures, dryer ducting. just good eye candy that allows me to think differently about how i normally work. mmm. nice.

Monday, December 10, 2012

a blessing
may each year be better than the one that lay before it

may you listen to your longing to be free.
may the frames of your belonging be large enough for the dreams of your soul.
may you arise each day with a voice of blessing whispering in your heart that something good is going to happen to you.
may you find harmony between your soul and your life.
may the mansion of your soul never become a haunted place.
may you know the eternal longing which lives at the heart of time.
may there be kindness in your gaze when you look within.
may you never place walls between the light and yourself.
may [God's touch] free you from the prison of guilt, fear, disappointment, and despair.
may you allow the wild beauty of the invisible world gather you, mind you, and embrace you in belonging.

most sincerely, kathy

written by John O'Donohue

Sunday, December 09, 2012

chubby bunnies, such an attractive game

a pre and post big shish kabob and marshmallow roasting thank you evening for my TAs (we call them mentors)

perhaps a new mentor tradition.

clearly an attractive game. naturally I lost and yet remain one of their fearless leaders. :) yes, and thank you for the lovely pic, Kailey!

Monday, December 03, 2012

The art object simply as an access point to the splintering path oftomorrow

the art object, so what! the artifact itself simply residue of its making like the sound of a word hovering in space as it slowly dissapates after the conversation wans. my walls stand bare of artifacts and trinkification housing only structural breaches to allow in the light. once they bore flattened memories of people compressed there but now those same frames stacked attic bound are vacant of a twenty three year gap of content. but that is another subject. art as object, art as occupier of space, art as aesthetic eye or brain candy, or even tactile sensual pleasure are largely meaningless impotent artifacts and acts. the act of making, of production, is perhaps a method of articulation, of forming and interpreting thoughts and experiences. this method bent dumps me in the category of process artists, yet that doesn't quite fit, is not quite right. the processes and materiality are more about a hunting, a snapping into focus the ideations and processed memories that lay just out of cognitive reach. through the intuitive collection and manipulation of materials within real space, i access what is elusive. yes. it creates an odd portal to my self and opens a lens to the web that connects me to the outer world, that incessant pulsing of the living. making thus functions as an impotus that bumps me over the threshold of a kind of knowing into a space of articulation that i can then perceive. So it is not about voice, but my access and understanding to and of life content. It is not even a how I say, not voice, but what is it i say, not necessarily a talking to other but an unpacking of story, of concept, of processed memory, of feelings, of knowledge for my own use--a use of navigation through and around my histories, a guidance in interpreting the day, and a direction into the passages that splinter at the horizon of my tomorrow.

The art object and its making are irrelevant if it does not lead me into life, into this moment, into connection.  (8/12)

Saturday, December 01, 2012

OMGosh. 3,250 pounds of rubber unloaded

that is 5 pallets; 2 left on the trailer, but the stack shoulder height is about as high as I can lift each bundle, thus time for second stack. "dealer" has 4 to 5 more trailer loads for me to pick up. ummm perhaps the "ask and you shall receive" may be like drinking from a fire hydrant. guess I should have also asked for winning lotto ticket and a couple of other intangible kinds of things! the sheets of rubber are larger than my last batch and though assorted sizes they tend to be ~10 x 10 feet and larger. I will need to start envisioning new directions. the last batch came in rolls about 3' x 10-18' which lends itself for other ideas. this should keep me busy for a month. bahahaaaa. ok we'll realistically a year or three!

Sunday, November 25, 2012

sixty nine ready for addition of emptied silent bellows

constructed from deconstructed domestic thresholds emptied of their welcome.

midday break

mmmm. homemade chili topped with fresh veggies and cheese, cold diet coke, midday fire. several hours of art. check. yard mowed/mulched. check. packets worked on. check. drop dead gorgeous weather in the woods. check. bugs buzzing, dog walked. check.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

ummmm. long day, but good

trailer to H-town, loaded domestic thresholds to be deconstructed, arranged for an 18 wheeler load of rubber (waterproofing) stripped from high rises (Goodyear). bahahaaaa — though it will take me several trips to get it to the studio; loading with fork lift; unloading with chica muscles; should be exhaustingly fun. limiting factor on hauling is not trailer load capacity but how many miles it takes the Tacoma to stop with a loaded trailer. overloading = dead sculptress. I'll take many trips. and honestly it'll take a while to unload each 1000 lb palette. pretty sure I'll be back to my arm ripped self by January 18.

anyhow now is time to kick back, watch the stars come out, scratch the Dopt, and sip my fresh crushed raspberry mush (absolutely NOT gin).

tiny dent in deconstructing domestic thresholds

and then reconstructing them in prep for potentially an 18-wheeler load of rubber. wanna be ready to crank a kazillion emptied bellowed deconstructed thresholds for January's show, the uncontrollable nature of grief and forgiveness (or lack there of) opening January 18 @ art league Houston.

they said they would cut them girl sized!

bahahaaaa. whatever!!? but I guess the electric company knew what girl sized was cause I got them all loaded. may be feeling it tomorrow!for sure.

Sunday, November 18, 2012


I especially love the way each time I read this piece, my brain twists and turns it to a different reading, a different meaning. it is this ambiguity that allows the viewer to enter the work and ascribe their own meaning that makes art engaging for me..

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

pepì là peeUUUUU met my Dopt today

and my baby is wearing it well, but shamefacedly. she STINKS! bet she won't try to play with that skunk again.

Monday, November 12, 2012

mr bluebird clutching deadly to the grate

I am fundamentally an urbanite
girl all through
and am confounded by what to to with your frozen dead blue frame
not sure you count as fire starter fodder but too chicken to pluck you out
oh I am stymied
this is not a poem!