how wrong it is
for a woman to
expect the man
to build the
world she wants,
rather than
to create it herself
-Anais Nin
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Sunday, December 2, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
A Classroom Presentation
A presentation
for my American Gothic Lit class.
Buried Child, Sam Shephard.
A collage
of theatrical performances
from around the globe
accompanied by two bad-ass
songs I thought fit the
general feel of the
story.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
A Little Shins Gig I Did
This summer I had the opportunity to work on the art staff for the Shins video, It's Only Life.
I did miscellaneous things such as:
shop for props
made fake firework packaging
maintained the stunt dog, Riot's, antlers
concoct the concept of a skateboard deck to pull James Mercer through the grass
littered a SE Portland neighborhood with newspapers and misc. objects
those are my silver trashcans in the street
(it rained during production which meant the newspapers got wet, not an easy clean up)
dug up and placed weeds in the cameras frame for the close up shots of Jim being dragged
helped the puppeteer with his costume
helped with the costumes accessories
drug James Mercer across the grassy lot on the west end of Mississippi Ave
(a bizillion times)
(a bizillion times)
there may be a few other tasks but I've forgotten now that it's almost November
It was a long two days, well worth the effort.
The LA & P-Town crews were hip and dedicated to their work.
And a crazy cool guy named Hugs was a shining star.
(as well as my friend Alisha-check out her latest work)
(as well as my friend Alisha-check out her latest work)
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Sunday, October 21, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
This Spot...is a No Go
An inside work now lives outside supported by an ancient cedar tree stump (survived the Yacolt Burn) that's been withering away. I was told it's decreased in diameter by at least half in the last two decades.
I'm curious how the cement board will behave in the elements. Although under cover of a new growth cedar of which a wandering rose vine has invaded, the piece will still receive an abundance of rain and snow.
When a tree falls...I take photos (this morning in my jammie pants, slippers and warm cozy hoodie while enjoying a perfect cup of coffee). I wasn't present for the ripping-cracking thunderous sounds but was assured they were alarming enough to hope it wasn't one of the trees near the house. Instead the old sickly maple near the back of the property fell neatly by the fire pit and missed the gazebo (later this afternoon a most killer fire will rage in the pit accompanied by a wonderful Zinfandel from Maryhill Winery which happens to be not that far away...Mmmmmm I do love their Zin).
Just last weekend I scouted this part of the property for ideal places for some land art, the kind that changes the architecture of the landscape (as I'm currently learning about in one of my sculpture classes). My mind is set on using cobalt blue glass bottles (the ones that once held sparkling flavored water from Trader Joe's, I'm pretty sure that's why I have been buying them for all these years -saving them for...well...possibly this very thing), rusted wire and fused and slumped glass custom formed to the tops of the old cut stumps.
As far as art goes...this spot...is a no go.
While keeping in view of the newly destroyed stump I may spin a web of rusted metal between these trunks and wrap a glass bottle as if it were delicious prey for a steam punk arachnid. However...this tree is in similar shape as the fallen one. I'm not sure how long it will last.
This guy...seems bothered by the audacity of the maple to jump ship and lay down on the forest floor. Rookie.
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A quick little phone clip to take your thoughts away from the daily chaos.
and...
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The autumn leaves...are spectacular.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Sweet Camellia
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Sweet Camellia...
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judgment
ridicule
alienation
pain
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Sweet Camellia...
timid
embarrassed
ashamed
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Sweet Camellia...
wept
plunged
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Sweet Camellia...
had not begun
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Sweet Camellia...
never the same
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Sunday, August 12, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Drawing in the Dark of Night
I went down to the boat dock to shoot the Super Moon...
...I was extremely impatient so I started to scribble...
...scribbling advanced to shapes...
...until I realized it wasn't as "super" as I had envisioned in my mind.
During Fourth of July fireworks I was bored
with capturing them as everyone else saw them...
...so I began to draw...
...and they took on a life of their own.
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Art
is the only way
to run away
without
leaving home.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Encaustic Crows
I've been layering some of my photography lately
in multiple layers of textures.
I'm still intrigued with the photos of the winter crows that
always seem to be present throughout the seasons.
They stand out drastically against the
white winter sky.
I will take them further, adding encaustic wax
and more texture with oils.
They will then find their temporary
home at small local boutiques or possibly my
quiet little etsy shop [(I should give more attention to)...waiting
quiet little etsy shop [(I should give more attention to)...waiting
to connect with their future admirers.
This...
...is a video directed by Hiro Murai.
I recently worked on
the art staff for a Shins video he directed in Portland,
of which should be completed in a month or so.
Outside of
.
a summer psychology course,
.
a few photo shoots and
.
a hankerin' to finish my encaustic digital photos
.
my summer is pretty light. Fall semester will be here before I can say...
am I really crazy enough to take another five classes?!?!?!
The answer is yes,
with a grin of gratitude and pride.
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One of those quick warm up paintings
that I've come to appreciate.
Oil on bond paper spring 2012.
P.S. I'm not sure why the type in this post randomly spangles inside a white box...
I'll figure that out later.
Ciao!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Mental Illness Architecture & My Imagination
During this last semester I had the opportunity to tour the Oregon State Hospital with my Theory and Practice: Art and Psychology class. Although the newly renovated facility is state of the art and beautifully designed, it was the old abandon campus that bewitched my interest. I was feverishly capturing the emotional impact the environment had on me thus having too many photos to share in one post. Underground tunnels, vacant buildings frozen in time and a landscape that no longer serviced patients physical and emotional needs are some of the topics that I found myself drawn to. This selection represents deserted windows and benches remaining on the old grounds. Some of the old structures have been demolished.
The location was host to the 1975 movie One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. Pacific Northwest author Richard Brautigan, Trout Fishing in America, was also committed here in 1955. It now serves a state government department or two but was recently purchased and may be currently totally abandon until the new owners establish themselves. The incredibly creative McMenamin brothers were interested but to my knowledge are not the purchasers.
The children's ward filled my intrigue and collided with my psyche. My imagination bee-lined to invented stories of chaos and whimsy. My vision spangled with images of rambunctious scenes that may have taken place. Children haven't been present on the property since 2003, the institution took focus on adult care at that time. I contemplated sharing my invented stories but when I began to type them seemed insignificant. There are enough tragic stories of mental illness that have caused turmoil in peoples lives. My interpretations would be gravely flawed and not something I'm willing to unleash at this point in time.
A window in the playroom.
A once tranquil place to dwell.
A glimpse to a crisp, misty Pacific Northwest morning from the playroom.
A viewing window in a thick solid wood door into the isolation room in the children's ward. The door was one of two that aided care givers in protecting other patients, themselves and the child in need of extra care. To my knowledge isolation is treated in different ways by today's standards. We weren't allowed to view the resident or treatment quarters in the new building due to privacy policies.
Through the door window into a dusty semi-cluttered space.
On the lower level of the children's ward into a desolate courtyard.
A favorable circumstance for some natural light. Not too many of these exist in the four-miles of tunnels stretched beneath the city of Salem. The tunnels provided a secluded path for getting from building to building. I have had the pleasure in an unrelated circumstance to meet a gentleman who used to work as the transporter of deceased bodies from the main facility to the morgue and crematory. Since our conversations I have learned that many cremated remains still set on shelves, unclaimed for decades.
An American artist who worked on the set of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in 1975, Mary Ellen Mark, found herself interested in documenting the female patients of OSH in Ward 81. After several attempts to gain legal permission, she lived in the facility for 36 days with an assistant photographing the daily lives of these women.
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