where is my ticky tack

i am not rural; not really urban either, and definitely wanted to be but didn't and don't fit into the box of sub-urbanite with two cars, two kids, spousal unit, house, comfy job, bunko and tennis clubs, a bible study here or there and some kind of service or ministry project that makes me feel good about myself. nope don't fit, never did, did try. just don't have enough ticky tack. and there is an expectation of ticky tack and sameness. but I must say I do love my hood and the little surprises it brings me and I am absolutely not against and even partake in a little retail shopping therapy (as proven this afternoon with a new paper of jeans and a fruffy blouse.

somethings I still buy in sets

it is an unnecessary pattern born of a 23 year habit of care and consideration. sometimes it is a mere function of 50 years in my bilateral form--I do require a good set of steel tip boots and will shortly be in the market for more as a wear these soles down again.

taking a break from unloading a butt load of tubular art supplies

a little country burning and now a little urban art supply trailer load unloading, sorting and stacking in my freshly chain sawed hidey woods hole. I really don't want to see my supplies from my windows. I make art to make it not look at it. strange but true.

makes me nervous but needed done

and hopefully the rain will come tonight.

bypass

I spent almost a grand on a cell signal antenna and amplifier which worked for a day. RETURN TO SENDER Mr "wireless solutions." bypass one. undisclosed cursing at wireless solutions.

bypass two. I am currently surfing my smartphone from inside the parabolic form of my wine glass which just happens to boost my signal by two or three bars depending on the temperature outdoors from an E signal to a 3G. kind of silly awesomeness.

bypass three. a late evening stroll watching the numerous deer pods, snapping this pic, and recollecting seeing a few pods crash through the residual high waters today. it reminded me of when my dog used to run through the full drainage ditch skimming its surface with open mouth like a feeding pelican. topped off by a grin at the memory of the nine or ten goats I literally saw walking around up in a tree this morning. REALLY. ok it was a huge old oak and it's low humongous limbs did happen to run parallel to the ground, but hey they still were at least six feet off the ground. it was a wondrously odd sight.

bypass four. shutting brain off for evening with a little snippet of the Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles and eating a bowl of fruit chased by a bigger bowl of pop corn that I am about to nuke.

sneaking in the backway

I think I pass through three counties and a lot of country politics based on the road surfacing materials and it's care. I find the structural and social shifts entertaining. the section after this is even prettier plus has a guiding solid stripe up its middle, then on to reddish gravel, then pavement, white gravel then pavement and so on. there are probably at least ten material shifts over the last six mile stretch. I like to go this route because it is eye soul soothing.

more Identity Essentials student projects coming in almost two weeks early

OMG-osh. they are excited about this project as they are about the human comps. most groups have been pumped about these two projects but this semester's crew of my WASHers are pretty dang excited about the project(s). i like that.

here are a few more trickling early.

the body as site of loss and remembrance by david









body as spirit by luke

ability to discriminate between real and fake smiles. my shallowrevisiting of the ramifications of shunning

"A study at Miami University indicated that individuals who recently experienced social rejection were better than both accepted and control participants in their ability to discriminate between real and fake smiles. Though both accepted and control participants were better than chance (they did not differ from each other), rejected participants were much better at this task, nearing 80% accuracy. This study is noteworthy in that it is one of the few cases of a positive or adaptive consequence of social rejection (shunning)."

This makes me a dang good human barometer of the fake and the real. I have always been sensitive this way, historically i thought of this tendency as being sponge like, now i am a spongy human barometer times 10. It actually makes it hard to be around others especial when the face and undercurrents are disconnected; obviously i have no real idea from hence their masks emanate or the source of their undercurrents and disconnect, but i definitely know a mask, disconnect, and undercurrent when i experience it. some masks and undercurrents are even harder to comprehend because the wearer has worn it so long they can't distinguish it even to themselves, being blind to their own disconnect, but this does not ebb the undercurrents that tug at them or me. Sometimes I would like to be able to see the mask and just be able to deal with the surface, but no one really functions out of their surface and i am impacted by their undertows.

According to the studies, I should count this as a perk since it is considered a positive adaption. lovely.

the hermitage deer pod mostly ignore me

since neither am i scary nor a threat, they merely tilt their heads and flick an ear at my presence and then simply continue at their task. when they gather in extended groups, just one can lead them all in sudden flight, asses held high, tails taunt, at my mere head turn. they are much like people I've known. my extended deer pod flees the visible, but we, we flee the invisible. it is not the person I see people flee but instead the anger that stirs our own distorted sense of justice, fear that dwells in lost memories dancing at the hidden corners of our being, futures unvisioned--undreamed, pasts unresolved pushing into our tomorrows, and incomplete knowledge, non-understanding guiding blindly our unseeing binary tunneled paths. I see people flee closing up, withholding, their compassion, friendship and mercy. we flee the invisible. zealot or not, fleeing each in our own habitual way.

identity essentials

Following lecture on feminist essentialism in the visual arts, I assign a responsive project requiring students to use their bodies as a vehicle for an idea. There are 7 categories they may choose from: the body as container, the body as landscape, the body as site of conflict (debate or legal issue), the body as the essence of gender, the body as spirit, role of age/history/time using the body, the body as a site of loss or remembrance.

A few rules I have--don't show me your genital (or as they say, don't show me their "junk"); be metaphorical/symbolic. Make it personal--"the personal is political." It should be a cohesive series without be redundant. Oh yes, and I tell them they don't know who they'll be partnered with in 10 years. If the image would trash their partners possibility of public office, DON'T SHOOT IT! They don't understand if i say don't do this for themselves but they understand how it could bite a partner in the butt.

Here is a series finished two weeks early (cause they are actually excited about this project)--Artist: Ashton, Photographer: Chelsey.



 

 



 

identity essentials: body as a site of conflict by Jeremy C

stroll my hood

after a day of laughter. today was the beginning of mark making were I guide my students in breaking their writing habit. after 18 to 29 years of training the hand to hold a pencil, it is difficult to explore other mark making options because choking up on our pencils is so engrained. so I have them explore using their bodies for mark making with exercises that bust up the writing habit. we ended the day with students' arms wrapped around their large sketch pads waist and their other stroking it's back with a pencil, ending finally playing their pad like a musical instrument. needless to say I had 43 souls literal waltzing around the studio with silly grins of joy on their faces. got to love my job.

today was my first day to stroll my hood for any decent length of time cause grading and more grading has kept me into the night.

late afternoon I was trimming back the secret pathways along that invisible line between mine and theirs, a supposed property line on file at the courthouse. hidden away in the woods, flushed out a huge owl from one of my ancient hollowed out oaks. I didn't however see piglet or rue. earlier today i discovered some baby hawklings through their chatter and the sudden winged glide of the parental unit.

the sounds of rushing rumbling water no longer absent

the slow weighty visual sound of its still settling and holding no longer absent

thick. lens doesn't do it justice

like a dream

late night drive after assisting students on install.
like entering a dream without sleep.
thick fog forward, crystal clear starry night above.
beautiful. why wake up from this state.

from traditional foundation design project to...

students started with some typical gestalt/perception compositions, stripped down to the basics and THEN...

under the influence of contour and magnetic mapping they translated their piece into three dimensional space (materials of their own choosing)...

more images >>

clearing a spot in the woods for material storage

that won't be visible from bulk of property or country lane. will have to translocate tubes already in site to this freshly cleared spot. hmmm. exercise.

couple thousand pounds of tubes

load haul unload return for more another day. my poor little 4 cylinder Tacoma with 200,000+ miles on it.

oh my sweet medium to be stored

and soon to be stitched. oh but how do I store you without being such a site sore! fold, size sort and layer. hmm. but still I only want to look at you at the time to stitch. contemplating a bit of fencing. it had been my original plan but well a tree kind of landed through the local of intent. so this weekend my dad and I shall put a dent in the might dead oak. then it will be time for some post hole digging. who's game?

omg. I do live in the country

on this crisp, gray morning, clouds hung low, I slowed from my speed blurred moment for an old man in a dinghy darkened plaid jacket, hat snuggled down over his ears, heel worn boots shuffling across the farm road. slung over his aged stooped shoulder, an ancient shotgun, suspended on the barrel's end, balanced and dangling, a well used trap.

I've stored this time slowed moment within my steel sieved memory banks believing it is the pace of the realized when one is full awakened and present

oh velvety lawn how I enjoy you.

next year I'll throw down the winter rye a bit earlier and a bit thicker. I just kind of hand spread it as a test run tightly around the hermitage this year. I find the stark contrast between the leafless dormant gray rooted ancestors and the short lived plush green incredibly soothing.

installing at texas state for collaborative exhibition of BOX 13ers

opens at texas state university's art gallery
thursday, feb 9, 2012
5 to 7 pm

Collaborative with Kia Neil, myself and Whitney Riley











Collaborative with Michael Henderson



Collaborative with Mark Ponder



Collaborative with Michael Henderson