Eleven - Two in one day?! Maybe three!

Writing About Art is an especially excruciating class for me, mentally and physically. Sometimes the people in my class are so blatantly stupid and close-minded about art and theory and rationality that it makes me physically sick. The professor, however, is amazing, and the subject matter even more so. Everyday I leave with another subject on my mind, another thing to mull over and discuss with my roommate later because OH MY GOD WE TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING.

Today we began on the topic of Artist Statements. Being in graphic design, a lot of what I do is based on client needs and wants, and not necessarily my own vision. At first I think "I don't have an artist statement, I only produce what other people want from me", but upon considering further in class, I came to this...epiphany of sorts. I don't have to just produce what other people want, like a machine just churning out work. I can give them what they want while still putting my own ideas and design principles into it. I can give them what they want without compromising my own ideas, likes, and dislikes.

Don't get me wrong, this is something I've sortofknown all along. But today it just HIT me. I'm currently reconsidering everything in my portfolio, and everything I've created up to now. I see things in everything I want to change. Senior Seminar is FINALLY just now making more sense to me than ever. I finally know what I want to do. I know what I want to see in my own work. I know what I want other people to get from me.

I really want to be a freelance designer. I want people to come to me, say "Hey I need ______ for _______ " and give me artistic license to do whatever I want. That would be the ultimate, as I would be able to show this vision of what I see in everything I do. Until then, though, I have to pay the bills. And do that through picky, anal-retentive clients. But that doesn't mean I should give up everything I believe in design.

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I've decided that, besides the minutia and details of my everyday, silly life, I'm going to use this blog to track the evolution of my work. To see where I started, what I've changed, and where it's ended up. Or where it still needs to be changed. I'm showcasing, and gonna Toot my own horn every now and then. I think this is going to be great.

Ten - I'm Still Alive (Question Mark?)

So I'm thinking it's been quite a while since I've been 'round to the Blogspot world, for which I apologize. Many personal things have prevented me from updating fully, and at this point I really don't feel like going back through them. Most of the important people in my life know anyway, so it's a moot point to the only people who read this.

In any case, we're going to start again.

This week has been one of those excruciatingly painful weeks of my life. Having many bad weeks in the recent past, this one perhaps will trump them all. Let's see if I can remember everything that happened.

Sunday was Easter, which our household didn't celebrate much of this year. In light of recent emotional and mental exhaustions, we decided to lay low. I spent most of the day working on my portfolio, as 1/3 of it was due the following day. Halfway through the day I had a near-breakdown over the fact that I didn't think Kinkos would be open in order to print my work. Sparing you the boring details, it turned out Kinkos was open, and I was able to print. I was the only person in there besides a businessman doing online correspondence in the corner, so it was quiet and I was able to use the good printer. Win.

Monday's class was painful, for reasons I do not wish to go into. I'll only say that I don't quite understand my professor's disdain with my portfolio as I've already landed three jobs with it. It seems to be working for the design world, and so to me her opinion is useless. Still, the way she approaches me about these issues is hurtful, and makes me feel as though I may never get anywhere with this work I'm doing. Deep down I know this isn't true, as I really have landed jobs with the portfolio I have, but it still stings to hear that from someone.

HERE'S A FUNNY STORY FOR YOU THOUGH.

Monday night I desperately needed to do laundry, as I found no time the previous weekend to do any. The laundry room was relatively deserted, as opposed to the masses of wet laundry just sitting there I usually encounter during the weekends. I put my laundry in the washer, set my timer for 38 minutes exactly, and head back to my apartment.

Now, you should know, I am pretty punctual about my laundry. In fact, obnoxiously so. (The times Katherine and I do laundry together on weekends, I usually stand in the hallway at LEAST five minutes before laundry is done saying we should go get it. She finishes whatever she was doing, and by the time we get there I realize I WAS early and feel silly for dragging Katherine there.) Anyway, I get back to the laundry maybe two minutes after the washer has spun its last cycle. I encounter two boys in there doing laundry - and one of them was touching my things.

"EXCUSE ME" I state rudely. He jumps and turns around, staring. "These are my things," I state politely, and start taking them out of the washer hurriedly. Now, I am not really one for confrontation, but someone messing with my clean laundry really ticks me off.
"Geez, sorry, I was going to use this washer" MeatHead replies.
"There are two open washers right over there" - I point - "You could have used those."
"Well this one is next to the one I already started."
At this point I decide not to continue, because frankly he's an idiot. I throw my things into the dryer and start the timer, when I hear him make a flippant response about Women and How They're So Emotional to his friend.

At this point I tell him to do something Not Very Nice to Himself, which I will not repeat here because frankly I'm a bit embarrassed to look back and see that I said it. Not that he didn't deserve it, because he totally did. I rushed out and ran back to my apartment, worried he'd follow me and see where I lived and then OH MY GOD I WOULD HAVE TO MOVE.

But he didn't. And so we live on. Upon recounting the story for Katherine she found it extremely amusing.

HERE'S ANOTHER FUNNY STORY.

Tuesday evening I had an AIGA meeting to attend. I went a bit early so as to walk the Long Way to CFA so I could clear my head from previous events of the day. At a stoplight I stopped and waited to cross politely. I waited for the white Walk Dude to appear, and once he did I looked ALL AROUND ME to make sure nobody was turning in my direction. Nobody was turning right, and the only car waiting to turn left didn't appear to be going anywhere, so I made a move to cross.

Once I am mid-crosswalk the car turning left decides this is a good time to go. The idiot behind the wheel obviously didn't see me, even though it WASN'T DARK OUT YET and I AM WEARING A BRIGHT YELLOW COAT. Not just yellow, or light orange, but like....SCHOOBUS YELLOW. CROSSWALK SIGN YELLOW. YOU CAN'T NOT SEE ME IN THIS COAT.

Needless to say, had she continued she would have hit me, as I had nowhere to jump off to. She realized I was directly in front of her, screeched and swerved to a stop. She looks out her passenger side window at me and makes a face that says "OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY!" and continues to speed along her way.

Flabbergasted I continue walking, unaware of the fact that I almost just died. I look after her and realize there's an "I HEART JESUS" sticker on her bumper. Enraged, I yell at her speeding car "I DON'T THINK JESUS WOULD APPRECIATE YOUR RECKLESS DRIVING" and continued on my way.

Later that night, also recounting the story for Katherine, she found it extremely amusing. I eventually did too, but at the time was extremely angry at her behaviour.


Needless to say the week has been trying my patience. And my life, apparently. I was almost broadsided by an old man in a pickup truck barreling his way out of an alley next to my apartment this morning on my return from class. I think it's a sign of something, though I don't know what.

And so today is Everything's Funny Thursday, although it really started last night when Katherine and I had the giggles so bad we were collapsed on the floor. This weekend I plan on laying low and buckling down on schoolwork. I've set deadlines for myself I haven't yet accomplished, and am constantly kicking myself for this. If I don't get down soon, it may never get done.


Remind me later to tell you about History of Rock And Roll and how I owned my professor. And how his 'knowledge' of The Who is pretty skimp.

Seven - Whoops!

This semester I am only taking four classes. 12 credits is the 'minimum' required to be considered a full student, so I suppose I shouldn't say only four, but after numerous semesters of taking 16 and 19 credits, I feel as though I am slacking off somehow. Really I only need three of these classes in order to graduate, but in order to be considered a 'full time student' I'm taking History of Rock and Roll, which is totally rad and I think everybody should take it. Still, only taking a few classes allows me to focus my complete energies on graduating, my portfolio, and the important classes I need right now.

Today my Writing About Art professor called me "fascinating." Which sort of caught me off guard. Nobody's ever called me fascinating before.

Writing About Art was one of those classes I was terrified of enrolling in, hence why I saved it until the very last chance I had to take it. I had this idea in my head it was all research papers and library time and ridiculous amounts of reading, but in actuality it's nothing like that. Class time is spent mostly in discussion between us and the professor, and a bit of lecture just to get our minds thinking. Questions such as "what IS art, exactly?", form, content, context, and appropriation are only a few of the concepts we've dragged over the past couple of weeks.

Our first 'major' paper (I say major, as I've already turned in two, but being less than 4 pages each I don't consider them a 'big deal) is a comparison between two pieces of our own choosing at the Baltimore Museum of Art. Friday I dragged Katherine there with me (she'd never been!) to look at some pieces and collect my thoughts. I took a mega butt ton of pictures. And we oggled the Warhols (okay, I oggled the Warhols) and made our way upstairs to my favorite part of the museum; the Contemporary Art Wing.

UNFORTUNATELY FOR ME the third floor of the wing was closed, which was a total bummer. But the second floor was still open. That didn't make up for it, but at least I got to see a bit. I showed Katherine some of my favorite pieces, such as Jean-Pierre Gauthier's Marquers D'Incertitude #3 (Uncertainty Markers #3) which is basically just one huge drawing machine which has been drawing on the wall of the gallery since 2005. It's almost like one big Spirograph. We both ended up drawn to some of the same pieces, also, which further cements why my roommate and I were made for each other.

Apparently I tend to gravitate towards art that makes me feel uncomfortable in some way. Not always in a bad way, necessarily, just sort of uncomfortable and awkward. The first one I saw was a Segal entitled Girl On A Chair. While I was looking at it / sketching it, I had this weird, cramped, squished feeling, almost as if I was the girl sitting on the chair encased in that box. The next one, Saar's Strange Fruit was one I had seen before, but never really took the time to think about. The last piece, Robert Gober's Inverted Basin, speaks to my deep love of Minimalism. Thinking about all of the pieces together, in context, my thesis is going to be about notions of entrapment, confinement, and maybe even a spark of liberation, within art. The Segal is clearly about confinement, and what it is to be stuck into an uncomfortable space which you have no way out of. The Saar speaks to entrapment, and also confinement (she's made out of wood and tin roofing, which made me think of roofing in general and how it helps define and confine a space.) And finally the basin sort of ties everything together, in a way. I mean, it's a basin, right? Like a sink? Yet it has no drain, and is completely nonfunctional. It's almost like one gigantic frustration, because you want so badly for it to at least look like it could function as a sink, but doesn't. In a way it speaks to the same idea of confined spaces, as I imagine being inside that basin I would feel stuck.

Apparently my professor finds this absolutely astounding. I'm not sure why, as it's just sort of something that popped into my brain when I was thinking about the pieces all together. Of course the overachiever in my had to go and pick three pieces instead of the required two, but I just don't think I would be able to pick only two of these to support my thesis. I think all three are just as important to foil the others.


In conclusion, I am a huge nerd.

In unrelated news, I ordered my cap and gown today. It's crazy to think how close graduation is.