Windows of the Mentally Ill

In the spring of 2012 I toured the Oregon State Mental Hospital

with my theory of art & psychology class.

We were told we were possibly the last public tour group

to pass through the underground tunnels and old buildings of the campus

before the new owners took over in June 2012.

I took many photos of the grounds and buildings.

I found the windows to possess a sense of entrapment

whether viewed from the outside in or from the inside out.

Most of them are from the abandon children's ward.

Although most of the furniture has been removed

there are still remnants of it's previous occupants

lying about.

I'm particularly intrigued with the views from

within the buildings, the perspective of a patient.

Below are three photos from inside the children's playroom...

The next is the children's solitary confinement...

A view from the play yard...

o

o

O

o

o

o

Art? Science? Ethical? Interested? Click Here.

THIS IS IT.

This is my studio.

It's been a dumping ground 

for all art related material since we moved in last August. 

When fall semester began I used this space as storage 

and claimed the dining room table rather than utilize it 

as my creative working space. 

There was no time to organize it all while school 

was the main focus of my daily life. 

Well this is it...this summer...which should be now...

I will dig my way out of this treasure trove 

of art supplies and set the space and it's contents right. 

For the first summer in quite a while I am not taking classes, 

therefore I have no excuses for 

not having ample time. 

I'm pretty sure I'll require caffeine to keep the process flowing.

There's good stuff in here, it's all good actually 

but that's what hoarders say... right? 

The rest of my house is clear and free, 

this small space for my creative soul,

is tucked away through the laundry room 

and lays itself out so perfectly to be closed off and forgotten. 

It contains my third grade art of oil pastels 

I so carefully preserved in taped wax paper

 of Disney's Thumper and Hiawatha, circa 1973 

and a large box of colored pencils I got in Tempe, AZ in 1985 

when I attended Graphic Design school. 

At that time my hair was half shaven, 

dyed purple and black 

and I covered the windows of my 1981 Ford Mustang 

(a year that totally didn't count for anything in the Mustang world) 

with Bauhaus, The Decedents, Psychedelic Furs 

and  Siouxsie and the Banshees stickers. 

I also have on the shelf my Thesaurus from seventh grade 

of which all the "naughty" important words like penis are circled. 

Before finishing my spring semester this year 

a mentor at school suggested I create 

all summer using only what I have in this room. 

I may need more than just one summer.

Let's see what happens.

o

O

o

o

Here's a little ditty you can play while 

cleaning the kitchen or making dinner for he family 

while reflecting on how cool you once were...

if you were as cool as I thought I was that is.

Sculpture & Painting

“Most people are on the world,

not in it

having no conscious sympathy

or relationship

to anything about them

undiffused,

separate, 

and rigidly alone

like marbles of polished stone,

touching but separate.” 

John Muir

o

o

O

o

o

o

A whole lotta gazin' goin' on.

W. S. MERWIN

Sight

Once

A single cell

Found that it was full of light

And for the first time there was seeing

When

I was a bird

I could see where the stars had turned

And I set out on my journey

High

In the head of a mountain goat

I could see across a valley

Under the shining trees something moving

Deep

In the green sea

I saw the two sides of the water

And swam between them

I look at you

In the first light of the morning

For as long as I can

o

O

o

 

o
O
o
Experimenting with the gaze
in watercolor and acrylic
at a 30" x 40" scale.

It's a good start.

Embracing the behavior of
watercolors
deserves more exploration.
o
O
o
This is a good example...

how wrong - blossom - midnight city

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

o

o

O

o

o

o

O

o

o

o

o

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.

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)

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)

o

o

O

o

o

o

An autumn walk

to cleanse

the creative soul

and refresh

the innovative mind.

and then there's always this...

o
o
O
o
o
o
O
o
O
o

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.

o

o

O

o

O

o

o

o

A quick little phone clip to take your thoughts away from the daily chaos.

and...

o

o

O

o

o

o

O

o

o

O

o

The autumn leaves...are spectacular.

Sweet Camellia

o

o

Sweet Camellia...

o

o

o

o

judgment

ridicule

alienation

pain

o

o

o

o

Sweet Camellia...

timid

embarrassed

ashamed

o

o

o

o

Sweet Camellia...

wept

plunged

o

o

o

o

Sweet Camellia...

had not begun

o

o

o

o

Sweet Camellia...

never the same

o

o
O
o
o
o
O
o
o