some art’s just like a teacup,
when you’re looking for a beer
some art, some art, it scares you and some,
some art’s about the fear.
some art is a highbrow thing
some art’s about the eyebrow ring
some art’s about the tattoo
some art’s about the artist
and that art’s not meant for you:
but my art’s not made like that
my art’s not meant for that
no, my art’s not built like that
my art’s not dressed for that.
some art’s ecclesiastes,
some art’s about the sin
some art it seems just heavenly
and that’s great if it lets you in.
some art’s all multi-colored til it goes behind the scene
it comes out all multi-corporate
then it only comes in green:
but my art’s not made like that
my art’s not meant for that
my art’s not built like that
my art’s not dressed for that.
some art’s a one-hit wonder why
they think we’re deaf and dumb
it’s like the disciples at the last supper
if God fed ‘em bubble gum.
some art’s a pedigree whitewash,
a cryptic clean cover-up
my art don’t need no ivory badge to back up
what’s in its gut:
my art’s not made like that
my art’s not meant for that
no, my art’s not built like that
my art’s not dressed for that.
some art don’t care about you,
what you say or what you do
my art’s the Mona Lisa
and she’s looking straight at you.
my art wears the same clothes seven days a week
cause my art don’t seem to care about
what other people think.
some art’s real nice to look at,
some art’s all neat and clean
my art forgot her tampon
and she’s bleeding through her jeans.
my art forgot her tampon
and she’s bleeding through her jeans
yeah, my art don’t need no tampon
she’ll just bleed through your dreams:
my art’s just made like that
my art’s just meant for that
my art’s just built like that
yeah, my art’s just dressed for that
my art’s just made like that
my art’s just meant for that
my art’s just built like that
my heart’s just
built like that.
[Alix Olson - built like that]
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Art and Lies
"Picasso had come back from the dead and she wanted life. She wanted to force life through the hour, to make it yield up its secrets, to make it waste no days of her reprieve in a self-built tomb. How much time did she still own? One year, twenty, fifty? The clock ticked as it always had but now she could hear it."
Art is the ultimate salvation. In art, humans not only create a thing that did not previously exist but in doing so they capture a moment and the feelings and emotions that overwhelm them in that moment, and attempt to facilitate a communication with other humans that will then reflect that same moment and those same feelings, and allow other humans to experience the artist's experience. My teachers used to say that while we have a general consensus on what hues correspond with which words, we can never really know if blue looks the same to me as it does to you. Seeking to give someone else the very experience you have had is an incredible sacrifice. It risks your autonomy, your free will, and your existence as a unique and irreplaceable creature, because if two people have the exact same experience it defies all those things. Art provokes. Art expands. Art delivers. Art captures. Art preserves. Art connects. Art is language.
Art is the ultimate salvation. In art, humans not only create a thing that did not previously exist but in doing so they capture a moment and the feelings and emotions that overwhelm them in that moment, and attempt to facilitate a communication with other humans that will then reflect that same moment and those same feelings, and allow other humans to experience the artist's experience. My teachers used to say that while we have a general consensus on what hues correspond with which words, we can never really know if blue looks the same to me as it does to you. Seeking to give someone else the very experience you have had is an incredible sacrifice. It risks your autonomy, your free will, and your existence as a unique and irreplaceable creature, because if two people have the exact same experience it defies all those things. Art provokes. Art expands. Art delivers. Art captures. Art preserves. Art connects. Art is language.
Monday, March 30, 2009
It's the little things..
So I submitted my latest moleskine installation to Eat Sleep Draw which I myself follow fairly religiously. And, I came home to this today:
Notes mean people have either reblogged the entry or "liked" the entry (just like you can "like" stuff on facebook). 29? sweet. This is the first thing I have submitted, and it totally made my day.
Notes mean people have either reblogged the entry or "liked" the entry (just like you can "like" stuff on facebook). 29? sweet. This is the first thing I have submitted, and it totally made my day.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The Ella Project
"Elle a" translates from french to "she has"
I used the name Ella, which means girl, or young girl, as a play on the french phrase.
I attempted to explain the idea behind this project in an earlier post, but I think Dostoyevsky expresses it best:
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken. "
here is a peek at the pieces, as promised:
1) Heart of the Matter
2) Downpour
3) Beaches/Birches
4) Canned Goods
it's an uneasy feeling to put my work up like this, even though I think the sharing is good for me, so even though they are watermarked I'm not entirely sure I'll leave them up for a long time. Enjoy them while they are here :)
I used the name Ella, which means girl, or young girl, as a play on the french phrase.
I attempted to explain the idea behind this project in an earlier post, but I think Dostoyevsky expresses it best:
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken. "
here is a peek at the pieces, as promised:
1) Heart of the Matter
2) Downpour
3) Beaches/Birches
4) Canned Goods
it's an uneasy feeling to put my work up like this, even though I think the sharing is good for me, so even though they are watermarked I'm not entirely sure I'll leave them up for a long time. Enjoy them while they are here :)
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
My Spoon Is Too Big
Tanzan and Ekido were once traveling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was still falling.
Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.
"Come on, girl" said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.
Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer could restrain himself. "We monks don't go near females," he told Tanzan, "especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?"
"I left the girl there," said Tanzan. "Are you still carrying her?"
Muju
My favorite zen koan.
I'm working on an art project, and have some real momentum right now.
I swore I'd never be one of those artist who names their pieces of art after people they know,
but I'm doing that with this project.
You see, I did something a few months ago that, at first glance, seemed incredibly out of character for me. A small gesture, but ultimately when dissected grows into a monumental pivot of fate borne out of a single small choice. And a choice that to the naked eye or setting acquaintance seemed radical and random, but was actually deliberate and done with such principled conviction it was an orchestra in a single sentence.
This new collection is both bold and reticent, complex and dastardly simple, and will trace the value of such a delicate and vibrant human interaction.
I think you'll like it. And you'll be able to see it when it's finished.
Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.
"Come on, girl" said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.
Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer could restrain himself. "We monks don't go near females," he told Tanzan, "especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?"
"I left the girl there," said Tanzan. "Are you still carrying her?"
Muju
My favorite zen koan.
I'm working on an art project, and have some real momentum right now.
I swore I'd never be one of those artist who names their pieces of art after people they know,
but I'm doing that with this project.
You see, I did something a few months ago that, at first glance, seemed incredibly out of character for me. A small gesture, but ultimately when dissected grows into a monumental pivot of fate borne out of a single small choice. And a choice that to the naked eye or setting acquaintance seemed radical and random, but was actually deliberate and done with such principled conviction it was an orchestra in a single sentence.
This new collection is both bold and reticent, complex and dastardly simple, and will trace the value of such a delicate and vibrant human interaction.
I think you'll like it. And you'll be able to see it when it's finished.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
A Love-Type Thing
"You know what they say about art: If you hold it too close it's pornography, and if you hold it too far away it's criticism."
this is exactly how i feel about my paintings, and how i'm sure many other artists - painters, musicians, sculptors, etc. feel about their work. each piece is a horcrux .thanks jk rowling, for that perfect word - for you non-harrypotter fans: if you want to live forever you cast small pieces of your soul, an obviously nontangible object into worldly items. a shoe, a book, whatever. once you cast that piece of your soul into a worldly item, you can never fully get it back. that worldly item is a horcrux, in harry potter lore. anyway, i digress.
for me, each painting contains a part of me - it is the result of my emotions and my passions, and are so much a part of me that if you hang a vertical painting horizontally it makes me want to vomit.
so the concept of pornography as a metaphor to be used in terms of misinterpreting art seems quite appropriate and accurate in an almost revolutionary way for me. I mean, yes there are pieces of art portraying the human body that could be consider genuine pornography I guess. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the concept of pornography as a depiction and perspective that is so raw, vulnerable, and exposed that it incurs feelings of everything from disgust, discomfort, and even sheer terror to feelings of lust and love and obsession, out of those who view it.
when you look at a piece of art too closely, you invade the space of the piece. you have trespassed on the soul of the artist and as such you deserve whatever awkward, uncomfortable, sickening, or even heartwrenching and emotionally draining feeling you are overcome with.
when you look at a piece of art from too far away, you are not close enough to see it in it's truest form, in its reality, and therefore can be nothing other than critical and judgmental of the piece.
think about it.
for me, my artwork is part of me. i couldn't make it more a part of me if i cut the synapses out of my brain and pasted them on the wall for you to look at instead.
the next time you hear a musician say "i wrote this song, but i hate it. i can't listen to it because it means nothing to me." think about your reaction, and your perspective.
the next time you look at a painting (like Jake Berthot's Egypt) don't take it at face value. stop looking and start seeing.
there's more to art than meets the eye. there's more to people than meets the eye. there's more to life than meets the eye. maybe we shouldn't rely on our eyes so much :)
i've got a massive blog project that should be dropping soon. DO keep your eyes open for that.
this is exactly how i feel about my paintings, and how i'm sure many other artists - painters, musicians, sculptors, etc. feel about their work. each piece is a horcrux .thanks jk rowling, for that perfect word - for you non-harrypotter fans: if you want to live forever you cast small pieces of your soul, an obviously nontangible object into worldly items. a shoe, a book, whatever. once you cast that piece of your soul into a worldly item, you can never fully get it back. that worldly item is a horcrux, in harry potter lore. anyway, i digress.
for me, each painting contains a part of me - it is the result of my emotions and my passions, and are so much a part of me that if you hang a vertical painting horizontally it makes me want to vomit.
so the concept of pornography as a metaphor to be used in terms of misinterpreting art seems quite appropriate and accurate in an almost revolutionary way for me. I mean, yes there are pieces of art portraying the human body that could be consider genuine pornography I guess. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the concept of pornography as a depiction and perspective that is so raw, vulnerable, and exposed that it incurs feelings of everything from disgust, discomfort, and even sheer terror to feelings of lust and love and obsession, out of those who view it.
when you look at a piece of art too closely, you invade the space of the piece. you have trespassed on the soul of the artist and as such you deserve whatever awkward, uncomfortable, sickening, or even heartwrenching and emotionally draining feeling you are overcome with.
when you look at a piece of art from too far away, you are not close enough to see it in it's truest form, in its reality, and therefore can be nothing other than critical and judgmental of the piece.
think about it.
for me, my artwork is part of me. i couldn't make it more a part of me if i cut the synapses out of my brain and pasted them on the wall for you to look at instead.
the next time you hear a musician say "i wrote this song, but i hate it. i can't listen to it because it means nothing to me." think about your reaction, and your perspective.
the next time you look at a painting (like Jake Berthot's Egypt) don't take it at face value. stop looking and start seeing.
there's more to art than meets the eye. there's more to people than meets the eye. there's more to life than meets the eye. maybe we shouldn't rely on our eyes so much :)
i've got a massive blog project that should be dropping soon. DO keep your eyes open for that.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
W. W. T. Q. D.?
It's true -
I'm not the only one who thinks Tegan Quin is the best thing since sliced bread...
I couldn't help myself. Saved me all the trouble and time of posting pictures and blahblahblahing about TQ this and T/S that. :)
Music for you:
Metric - Grow Up and Blow Away
Also, just and FYI - Threadless is having a Back to School sale.. Most of their shirts are $10 now until September 3rd. They even reprinted Flowers in the Attic for the occasion. Go get yours!
and, my slideshow as promised...
I'm not the only one who thinks Tegan Quin is the best thing since sliced bread...
I couldn't help myself. Saved me all the trouble and time of posting pictures and blahblahblahing about TQ this and T/S that. :)
Music for you:
Metric - Grow Up and Blow Away
Also, just and FYI - Threadless is having a Back to School sale.. Most of their shirts are $10 now until September 3rd. They even reprinted Flowers in the Attic for the occasion. Go get yours!
and, my slideshow as promised...
 | Cool Slideshows! |
Monday, March 26, 2007
once more, with feeling!
Thought I'd add a friendly pic for you.
This is one of my paintings. One of my favorites at that, and one that most people seem to find pleasant (to make sure that I don't send anyone screaming in the other direction, never to read my humble blog again).
also you should know, if you didn't check, that I fixed the link to the foamy video in the last post. And I tried it myself this time, for good measure. It works. Watch it!
Monday, March 19, 2007
They wear their feet too big for their shoes...
Call me a party pooper, but last time I checked, the month of March was officially Irish-American Heritage Month, not March Madness Month. I'm really getting tired of all the ridiculous bickering and fussing over college basketball games. Half of the players are going to go on to be doctors, lawyers, construction workers or burger flippers. We're not really looking at the "next big thing" in the NBA (those guys would already be there, making their millions, if they were that talented). I considered that maybe it's just a temporary substitute obsession for sports fans experiencing superbowl withdrawal, but then I remembered that sadly, some people live for March Madness and NCAA Division I college basketball. You know, basketball really isn't all that big in Ireland. Baseball season isn't that far off anyway, and at least they have juicy scandals. Basketball is blah (to watch; i'm not arguing about actually participating in physical activity) so let's move on, please?
Professor Muelhemann insightfully lamented today that while in rhetoric I seem to be quite pleased with my art work, there is an aspect of my energy that seems to imply that I am somewhat at odds with that judgment. That is to say, that maybe I'm not that happy with it after all. The professor then proceeded to suggest that this conflict is what drives me. I'm always a bit awkward when I come upon a person who evaluates me (or my work, or my character) with such depth and complexity. That is not to say that such observations are not accurate. I don't know if they are or not. Being so far from touching the inner part of me, from which my art work comes from, or my writing, or my motivation to do things which others find extraordinary, I never know quite how to react. It is strange to stand in front of someone and hear that person extrapolate in a tone that radiates with the hope that they are expounding upon some unspoken state of my being; that they have just discovered the solution to a confounding mathematical problem. They never seem quite sincere, or insincere, or genuine, or false, and yet they are always sort of thrust at me with some incredible anticipation and brute force. Kind of like an out of body experience, taking the voice inside your head and putting it into the person in front of you - you don't know what to say, and you know better than to trust those words, lest they mislead you into becoming something you aren't.
That was complicated...
I'm looking so forward to getting out into the real world; to having complete control of my own time (i know i'll have a job and such that will dictate my time, but i get to choose which job i want, and i get to choose what to do with my time outside that job). I'm looking forward to taking yoga at a real studio, to having a puppy and going to the dog park, to having a metro buddy (that person you seem to always meet, chat with, or ride with on the metro every day), and mostly i'm looking forward to being able to read and paint and play guitar and such at my own discretion. I'm looking forward to having real friendships and relationships. I'm looking forward to being in a liberal city (buh-bye jerry!). I'm looking forward to, and somewhat also dreading, long distance phone calls from my friends on the other side of the country, telling me about their amazing adventures. I want to take roadtrips. I want to backpack. And hike. And ride. and TRAVEL. and go to concerts. and not having to worry about sharing a bathroom with 20 other women. It's the future, and it looks great from here...
Speaking of the future, if anyone knows of a job I could have, please let me know. In DC please. :)
I'm going through one of those stages where I'm realizing the fact that in less than 2 months I'm going to have to transition to being a real adult. It makes me want to go out and get piercings and tattoos while I can still vouch for them. Seriously. I've got paper and pen in front of me, sketching out ideas. It would be cool if I could get my friends to get tattoos with me, but I'm not sure which, if any, of them would be into that.
Finally, I would just like to state that I will be looking rather saucy come Casino Night. My SDD dress is okay, but I have an outfit for Casino Night, and you'll wish you were my date. Oh yes, a date. The one SDD accessory I don't yet have; shame.
over and out,
Kat
Professor Muelhemann insightfully lamented today that while in rhetoric I seem to be quite pleased with my art work, there is an aspect of my energy that seems to imply that I am somewhat at odds with that judgment. That is to say, that maybe I'm not that happy with it after all. The professor then proceeded to suggest that this conflict is what drives me. I'm always a bit awkward when I come upon a person who evaluates me (or my work, or my character) with such depth and complexity. That is not to say that such observations are not accurate. I don't know if they are or not. Being so far from touching the inner part of me, from which my art work comes from, or my writing, or my motivation to do things which others find extraordinary, I never know quite how to react. It is strange to stand in front of someone and hear that person extrapolate in a tone that radiates with the hope that they are expounding upon some unspoken state of my being; that they have just discovered the solution to a confounding mathematical problem. They never seem quite sincere, or insincere, or genuine, or false, and yet they are always sort of thrust at me with some incredible anticipation and brute force. Kind of like an out of body experience, taking the voice inside your head and putting it into the person in front of you - you don't know what to say, and you know better than to trust those words, lest they mislead you into becoming something you aren't.
That was complicated...
I'm looking so forward to getting out into the real world; to having complete control of my own time (i know i'll have a job and such that will dictate my time, but i get to choose which job i want, and i get to choose what to do with my time outside that job). I'm looking forward to taking yoga at a real studio, to having a puppy and going to the dog park, to having a metro buddy (that person you seem to always meet, chat with, or ride with on the metro every day), and mostly i'm looking forward to being able to read and paint and play guitar and such at my own discretion. I'm looking forward to having real friendships and relationships. I'm looking forward to being in a liberal city (buh-bye jerry!). I'm looking forward to, and somewhat also dreading, long distance phone calls from my friends on the other side of the country, telling me about their amazing adventures. I want to take roadtrips. I want to backpack. And hike. And ride. and TRAVEL. and go to concerts. and not having to worry about sharing a bathroom with 20 other women. It's the future, and it looks great from here...
Speaking of the future, if anyone knows of a job I could have, please let me know. In DC please. :)
I'm going through one of those stages where I'm realizing the fact that in less than 2 months I'm going to have to transition to being a real adult. It makes me want to go out and get piercings and tattoos while I can still vouch for them. Seriously. I've got paper and pen in front of me, sketching out ideas. It would be cool if I could get my friends to get tattoos with me, but I'm not sure which, if any, of them would be into that.
Finally, I would just like to state that I will be looking rather saucy come Casino Night. My SDD dress is okay, but I have an outfit for Casino Night, and you'll wish you were my date. Oh yes, a date. The one SDD accessory I don't yet have; shame.
over and out,
Kat
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