'cause everyone's your friend

I'm still recovering from my day-trip to New York yesterday. Slowly filtering through all the visual information I took in, catching up on sleep, and stretching out achy joints and sore muscles. And blogging about it, while it's all still fresh in my mind.

I didn't realize until I was on the bus that it's been just over a year since my last trip to NY. A year is just about enough time to forget how insane it is to take a four hour bus ride to and from New York in one day. Add to that three or four museums, four or five subway trips and lots and lots of walking. It's pretty exhausting, and last time I made the trip I stayed in NY for two nights, spacing out the travel quite nicely. It's worth it, though. New York is still a pretty magical place for me, despite a general preference for the west coast that just won't seem to go away.

Anyway, the day began a little after 5 a.m., getting myself ready and to South Station (thanks, Neal!) by about a quarter after six, with enough time to grab breakfast and some hazelnut coffee at Au Bon Pain. I took the 7 a.m. bus; I tried Lucky Star this time over Fung Wah. I brought a book with me, a book I'm about halfway through; the last time I read it was the last time I traveled. I was so excited to have eight hours on a bus to read and brought nothing else except my MP3 player (that's like an iPod, for you younger folks), thinking for sure I'd finish it. I started reading as soon as the bus departed, but after about one section (not even a chapter!), I switched to music and dozing on and off and never switched back. But, as Rachel, another student in our small group pointed out, when else do you have four hours to do nothing except stare out a window and listen to music?

We got into NY around 11, and since we didn't have to meet the group until 11:30, Rachel and I went for a quick walk up Chrystie and east on Grand to the Doughnut Plant for some chai tea and a Valrhona chocolate raised. Yum. Our first destination after that was MoMA, primarily for the Comic Abstraction show, but since it's pretty small, we had time to check out a few other floors, notably the contemporary exhibit, Out of Time, and typography geeks that we are, an exhibit organized around the 50th anniversary of Helvetica.


It was pretty thrilling to see, and to see how many people were crammed into this particular corner of the design and architecture gallery.


There was a fair amount of information and examples in a relatively small space, which actually worked pretty well, considering how clean and simple Helvetica is and how ubiquitous and familiar. We're not used to seeing numerous examples like that on one wall.


Also in that gallery was an entire wall of Emigré publications (also a font foundry). I thought I would be the only one excited about all this typography stuff and text and image art, but the whole group seemed pretty into it. And there's a lot of text and image stuff on view right now, everwhere we went.


There were equally exciting moments in the Out of Time exhibit, including finally seeing Pipilotti Rist's film Ever Is Over All. I'd seen stills when it showed at SFMoMA and those stills (of a woman in an icey blue dress and bright red shoes) inspired the color scheme I came up with for my wedding. Also pretty great was Christiam Marclay's Graffiti Composition, from 2002, a portfolio of 150 digital photographs he took of blank music sheets he pasted up around Berlin and then went back and photographed the graffiti they collected. Not to mention finally seeing an actual video piece by Kota Ezawa, our fourth and final visiting artists in the 4 Painters Seminar series, speaking at the Museum School this week.

From MoMA we headed uptown to the Whitney, where we started at the top and worked our way down through (again, noting my favorites here) Taryn Simon's photographs, An American Index of the Hidden and Unfamiliar, Lorna Simpson, and Gordon Matta-Clark. I've seen so much of Simpson's work in documentation, but never in person. I particularly like the multiple mouths humming film installation and the screenprints on felt. Nice use of materials. Same for Matta-Clark, in that I've seen tons of documentation but never "the real thing," as they say. My eyes were starting to glaze over by that point (perhaps contrary to common belief, artists usually seem to have the shortest attention spans when it comes to looking at other art...and, uh, in general), but overall I thought it was pretty good stuff. I really liked reading Matta-Clark's statements about the early structures he cut into and apart, about how the initial act of violence eventually lends itself to a sense of order (the grid, of course) and beauty (light entering into spaces it wouldn't normally be able to, etc.).

From the Whitney we spent almost an hour getting to Chelsea, which involved quite possibly the most uncomfortable subway situation I've ever been in. Not uncomfortable in a life-threatening or crazy-person way, but of the serious violation of my personal space variety. The train (the 4 or the 6 I think) was already pretty packed and this mountain of a man gets on at the last second (I was standing next to the door, against the metal bars). I tried to move forward a bit, which gave him enough room to slide his arm behind me to grab hold of the bar. Okay, fair enough, but then he puts his other hand on a bar in front of me, essentially embracing me for two or three stops. Dude, you're totally invading my bubble!

Anyway, in Chelsea we only had time for a quick tour of Printed Matter. I think it's hilarious that they moved into a new space fairly recently (since the last time I'd been there at least) that's equally as cramped as the old space. I was standing at the counter perusing Allison Smith's book about The Muster (which I later bought) when this woman with a fluffy little dog in her messenger bag huffed and puffed at me for not sensing that she needed to get by. Ah, New York.

this is not a democracy (so get over yourself)

They were talking about the whole American Idol scandal on NPR today, which reminded me that I should really blog about how I feel about that whole thing. Initially, my feeling was, great, maybe if this guy (or whoever ends up being the worst, as Howard Stern and votefortheworst.com are encouraging America to vote) wins and it's a huge scandal, the producers of the show will nix the whole voting procedure entirely. As much as I appreciate, intellectually of course, popular culture at its most popular, in practice it doesn't usually work too well. Don't leave it up to America.

Which is precisely the second wave of emotion I felt driving home today, hearing NPR's coverage of the situation. Who, among the people who are so upset by this "vote for the worst" campaign, really believes America votes for the most talented singer to begin with? Granted, talent is always going to be a subjective thing, even among a panel of "experts," but America is voting for a whole lot more than vocal chops, if even that. That's why the show's called American Idol and not, like, America's Next Top Vocalist. Just like it's not necessarily the best technical dancer who wins So You Think You Can Dance. That show, which, I think, is a bit more honest in its voting expectations, crowns America's Favorite Dancer. Favorite can mean a lot of things, not just skill, technique, or talent even.

And aren't Randy, Paula, and Simon ultimately responsible for the batch of finalists, at which point America is invited to chime in? Out of hundreds of thousands of auditions, can't they come up with a talent-proof group of, what is it, 32 finalists?


Moving backwards along the controversial continuum of reality television, as I've mentioned here before, I took to watching the televised search for the new Pussycat Doll. I stand by what I pointed out at that time, which is that the only reason I'm watching is because it's taken the place of Veronica Mars for nine or so weeks. What am I supposed to do, read or something?

The show has proved fairly entertaining, though, I must say. As usual with reality shows of the contest format, I'm not convinced they couldn't have found a more solid bunch of finalists (which proves my point...this medium has little to do with actual talent). I'm sure there were better singers and dancers out there who, perhaps, didn't score quite as high on the hotness factor. And initially I thought someone like Chelsea, who can sing and who seems cute/hot enough, can always improve her dancing skills. After which it immediately dawned on me that producers and engineers can make the worst vocalist (who's maybe a better/hotter dancer/performer) sound pretty good. But mostly, the best thing about the show is its simple and straight-forward list of qualities that they're looking for in the next Pussycat Doll, a sort of lesson to be learned from each episode. So far we've learned the importance of:

1.) Confidence
2.) Persona
3.) Creativity
4.) Sexiness

It was really hard to tell from the teaser what next episode's lesson will be.


As for ANTM, as much as I look forward to watching the show each week, I think my lack of blogging about it says a little something about how, perhaps, my overall enthusiasm for the show has really dwindled these last two cycles. The girls who bug me continue to be among the judges' favorites, but I'm not as fired up about it as I was initially. The whole plus-size model non-debate (because it's not happening on the show) really irks me. Let's just say that I'm not exactly 5'10" and 105 pounds, so on the one hand, I support the show encouraging diversity in the modeling business, but on the other hand, I've never been exactly blown away by the plus-size models they've had on the show. Just like I'm not necessarily going to vote a woman into the presidency just because she's a woman. You still have to be able to model, regardless of your waistline. So it kind of annoys me that just about everything I read about the show (even Entertainment Weekly had a little snippet a few weeks ago...something like "two plus size models - yay!") touts the fact that there were two plus size models in the top 13. I'm just not convinced that that's so amazing or groundbreaking in and of itself.

But the thing that really annoys me (do you sense a theme in this post?) happened on last night's episode. Okay, so Renée can be a bit of a handful at times, but, to quote Cher in Clueless, "that was way harsh." She put herself out there in her "revelation," albeit in a slightly defensive manner, initially, claiming she was misunderstood (aren't we all, though), but to put her on the spot like that and invite each girl to describe how they were personally hurt or offended by her and then not let Renée really speak to that (what more could she do in that situation than meekly apologize) was totally unfair. I think it would have been better to put each girl in that position, because none of them are exactly innocent.

my close-up

It's getting to that point in the semester where I'm starting to look around and see just what I've got going on in terms of work and what I'll present and how I'll present it at my review board in just four to seven weeks. This time around there's the added pressure of thinking seriously about what form my thesis might take. My main goal this year has been to completely abandon any pretenses toward the idea of progression or creating a cohesive body of work. But, not only did I start to see themes and methods recur across projects that seemed, at least superficially, really different, now that I'm just nine short months away from my final thesis exhibition date (December 6-20, 2007) I'm trying to wrap my mind around those themes and make connections in some cases between past and current projects and what I have in mind for the near future. Without writing about my tentative thesis idea just yet (premature discussion could lead to abandoning the idea before I've even started...that I've done before, believe me), this kind of thinking has led me to the obvious - objects and commodification and the like - and the not so obvious - mapping (in many senses of the term).


I've been really resistant to the idea of creating a whole lot of new, physical work in the way of prints and paintings. In fact, I haven't painted in almost a year. And while I am working on a series of designs I will actually print and may one day screenprint or paint on, much of this endeavor has entailed a return to past work, including revising and adding to the where we are not website. There's an "about the project" page as well as a image gallery of the screenprints that made up the original installation. I scanned the prints and blew them up, abstracting the clarity of the original digital image even more, and making the CMYK screenprinted process really evident. The full images are too large to put online (I only have 35 megabytes of storage for that site; pathetic, I know, but when you start a site and you don't really know what a megabyte is - they could've called them la-dee-da's for all I knew at the time - it seems sufficient) but if you click on the gallery thumbnails, a pop-up window will open with a detail to give you a sense of what the process really looks like. It's like digital pointilism.

more from or

To add to my previous post, here's a short video pan I took at the Painted Hills in Oregon last Monday. I thought I was being so still and yet the video is still pretty shaky...I blame it on the wind.

Also, I forgot to mention that on the way back to Boston I had a layover in Salt Lake City, home of the best veggie burger I've had so far. Neal and I had a layover at the SLC airport just about two years ago on our way to Mexico and that's when I first tried the veggie "love burger" at Squatters Pub, in the airport and also downtown. That's the veggie burger that started a sort of personal quest for the best, made-in-house veggie burger, and so far, SLC airport's Squatter's pub still ranks number one and this recent layover confirmed it. If I'm at a restaurant that makes their own veggie burger, despite what else might be on the menu, I have to try it. No frozen patties or Gardenburger with a capital G for me. The Asgard Pub in Cambridge has a pretty decent one as well as The Cheesecake Factory chain. I think what makes Squatter's version so good is the combination of ingredients, which are mashed up in a pretty fine patty, but then they throw in some sunflower seeds for texture. Not too chunky but not exactly a fine, homogenous, meaty texture either, and it holds its shape in the bun.

shoe tree

I'm back. I unpacked pretty quickly last night (since midnight felt like 9 p.m.) so I thought I'd get a ton of stuff done today. Instead, I spent hours trying to figure out how to do that drill down toggle thingy with my archived posts on my various blogs. I've come to the conclusion that that particular "new" blogger feature is specific to their layouts, hosted blogspot style. I did figure out how to do the drop down menu bit, though, so I guess it wasn't a total loss.

From Trip to Bend, OR

Anyway, I wanted to blog a bit about my weekend in Bend while it's all still fresh in my mind. In short, I had a really great time and I couldn't have asked for better weather. I flew out on Thursday afternoon, missing the major snowstorm of 06-07 back here in Boston, spending the next four and a half days in dry, sunny, upper-60s darn-near perfect Central Oregonian weather.

The trip consisted of sleeping in, walking along the creek near my Dad's place (in the pic above), a day of shopping with my Grandma, lots of eating (other than Dairy Queen and the Original Pancake House, every restaurant we went to was new to me: McKay Cottage; Baltazar's mostly-seafood Mexican; the Jackalope Grill, where I had a tasty Jaeger Schnitzel; another Mexican restaurant I can't remember the name of now; a small café in the small town of Mitchell, and McMennamin's Old St. Francis pub), and some sight-seeing.

In addition to spending time in Bend, we spent an afternoon in nearby Sisters (I just love the Sisters Bakery - my faves include their brownies and marionberry scones) and all day Monday driving through the John Day Fossil Beds, home of the beautiful Painted Hills, where my Dad and I were in competition for who could take the best photo of this lone tree:

The Painted Hills are really spectacular; the photos, of course, hardly do it justice. There's one trail in the park - the Painted Cove trail - where the forest rangers have built a 1/4 mile trail that loops around one of the smaller formations, allowing you to get a closer look at the moon-like surface of the clay hills. We were a bit early for the wildflower season, which must be pretty spectacular in addition to the colors you see in the hills. Most of the hills, though, are red and gold, reminding me of those "big stick" cherry-pineapple popsicles we used to buy from the ice cream man. Yummers.

On the drive home we stopped to take a picture of this cottonwood tree bearing pairs and pairs of old shoes. I wonder how that happened? Did one person throw an old pair up and then passersby were inspired to stop and do the same? Are they mostly from nearby Mitchell? And I wonder how old is the oldest pair?

spring breakin'

I'm headed to Oregon in about a half-hour for the first weekend of my spring break. But before I go, I wanted to let you know that I've posted the rest of the submissions I received from Museum School folks to The Lost Object Project. 18 posts so far, and I'm hoping for more during phase two, which will begin when I return to Boston next week. It's off to a good start, though; I'm really pleased with the submissions I received and have some great stories and visuals up so far.

'Til then, I'm looking forward to a long weekend in sunny, warm Central Oregon with limited access to the computer. I may actually read some of the three books I'm ambitiously taking along. Have a great weekend, whether you're spring breakin' (or otherwise breakin') or not!

um, is this a trick question?

The only (okay, it did look pretty entertaining) reason I'm watching the Pussycat Dolls reality show is because it's taken the place of Veronica Mars for the next several weeks (what's up with that, anyway? do the producers really think the audiences are that similar?). The main thing I've learned so far is that the line between what the Pussycat Dolls do and stripping is even finer than I thought. One commercial break after calling Brittany "stripperella" Robin challenged the girls to demonstrate their confidence (the most important thing) by dancing, in groups of three, in lingerie, essentially, in little box rooms. Once again, while Asia won the competition by, as far as I could tell, writhing on the couch, Brittany was criticized for going too far. My only other observation so far is that the producers should learn from ANTM and give these girls a makeover early on. Oh, and, note, per an earlier discussion here about ANTM, the young, single mother competing on the show for her baby back home. I do appreciate, however, how incredibly girly their living accomodations are. Heart-shaped mirrors, fluffy pink-lined circular cut-outs in the wall, all the beds in one room...it's like a nine-week slumber party!

Also on hiatus until late April is Heroes. What are they thinking? How could they do this to me?! And on ANTM, I was once again disappointed that a girl I liked (Samantha) went home while a girl I find hopelessly clueless (Natasha) stayed on. There's always at least one girl who's not totally obnoxious who gets the personality-deficient label right away, teaching the youth of America that personality equals inflated levels of confidence not tied to much of anything in the way of talent or skill.

lookin' for interaction

Remember the website and blog I created in conjunction with that floor installation I did last fall? Well, after the show came down I found I didn't have much to blog about, and had always envisioned the website to continue in some way, hopefully in a slightly more interactive way. After figuring out PHP and form to email stuff (albeit in my usual scattered, impatient, this-will-do kind of way) for The Lost Object Project, I thought, hey, why don't I do the same for wherewearenot.org? Unfortunately, that website is hosted on a different server, which, apparently, won't allow attachments to be sent with the other information requested on the form...I plan to transfer everything to godaddy this summer, which I've found to be far superior. In the meantime, however, you can submit a story that somehow responds to the question: "Where are you not?" Maybe there's a place you're far from that you miss, or a location that you've always wanted to travel to and have imagined in some way, or family that you're displaced from, for one reason or another...essentially place/location that holds some meaning for you, whatever the reason, interpreted pretty broadly. And if you have images, feel free to email them to me separately; just be sure to reference your form contribution in some way. Updates will be posted to the blog.

Of course, in some ways, I feel like perhaps I'm trying too hard to inspire interaction. It's really quite a challenge to get folks to contribute, whatever the goal, in lots of different kinds of spaces. I've heard of much simpler projects that have been hugely successful and widespread. I have some more tricks up my sleeve, of course, but I'm bracing myself for utter, total failure. If nothing else, this and other potentiallly interactive projects have led me to think about that point of participation in and of itself, adding Macolm Gladwell's books on the topic (Blink and The Tipping Point) to my long list of reading.

visualizing public participation in various arts activities

Success...sort of. I found some data on the U.S. Census Bureau derived from various reports published by the National Endowment for the Arts. Not exactly the kind of information I was looking for (what I'm interested in is the rise of M.F.A. programs in the U.S. over the last century), but I wanted to get something to play with. And even this is just a portion of the data, which, in addition to male/female comparisons, is broken down further by race & ethnicity, age, education, and income. There's probably a really dynamic way of getting that all into one visualization, but I wasn't sure how. I like the animation that happens when you switch from male to female and back again. Anyway, I'll keep playing with it, and perhaps I'll get some comments that will give me some clues. This is fun, though; I could see spending a lot of time on Many Eyes.

western civ 101

So, artists and other creative folks using the internet is really not a new thing, but at the Museum School, sometimes it feels like it is. The last two days have been filled with colloquia that remind me of this, which is at once humbling and encouraging. Last night I attended the weekly CMS colloquium - A Site for Social Data Analysis - which hosted Fernanda Viegas and Martin Wattenberg of IBM's Visual Communication Lab. They talked about their latest research project, Many Eyes. I'm really fascinated by the idea of data visualization and can't wait to play with the site. I have some ideas of data I'd like to visualize (related to the art world, not surprisingly) but I'm having a harder time than I anticipated trying to "harvest" that information to upload. I'll let you know when I've reached some level of success.

Unlike Neal's program, the MFA program at the Museum School only hosts a colloquium, on average, once per semester. This semester we have two, both this month, the first of which - Photography in the Age of Digital Replication - was held today. Panelists included Oliver Warden, Barbara Pollock, and Wolfgang Staehle. I have some hang-ups with photography (in short, I feel sometimes like our "interdisciplinary" program is disproportionately heavy on artists that seem to really strongly identify as Photographers with a capital P, and - although this has shifted slightly this year - they just don't seem to get the same number of "why's" in their critiques, i.e. why photography as your choice of medium, why did you include that palm tree in the corner there, etc.) but I was pleasantly surprised at how diverse the panelists' work and views turned out to be in relationship to this topic. Warden strikes me as a super smart popular culture junkie and his paintings look pretty darn luscious. And Staehle founded thing.net "back in the day" (specifically 1991) as a bulletin board system. He commented in his presentation that this way of working was attractive to him at that time because the open dialogue and sharing of information contrasted sharply to the sort of closed, secretive world of contemporary art at the time. I feel like this is still true (which is why I've tried to find a community within the School that's more receptive to this way of working and love hanging out with MIT folks), but my community doesn't necessarily represent the art world at large, either.


That said, I'm holding off until after the analog drop box is officially closed (next Tuesday) to post the Lost Object Project submissions I've received from fellow students, but I can tell you about a couple I do not plan to post and why. Basically, neither your virginity nor Western Civilization are objects (and I don't see how the latter is lost; I can't speak to the former). One of the obstacles I thought about in the beginning of this project was: what is the contributor getting out of it? Why should you take the time to submit your story and image (especially if you've gone to the trouble of creating your image from memory) when all you get back in return is a URL to a virtual memorial? That's probably not enough for a lot of people. With this in mind, one thing that's really great about Many Eyes is all the ways they let you link to or blog about the visualization you've created, altered, commented on, etc. It's still very much credited to Many Eyes but there's a little piece of it that feels like yours. That said, I wonder if part of this obstacle that I anticipated and sense in some of the responses I've received so far is because they're coming from artists who, perhaps, can't fully let go of their own artistic self expression needs in exchange for a slightly more selfless contribution.

It's tricky because I certainly don't want to censor what's submitted, but as moderator of the project, in some cases I've already decided that the spirit of the project is more important than exploring the medium as fully democratic and open. And I've linked to similar projects with different conceptual interests so if you want to talk about loss as it relates to non-objects, hopefully you'll find a place to do so. And if not, you're an artist; create your own interactive project!

mmmm, candy

Last night's reception. That's the real-world configuration of my otherwise online project on the left outside wall.


Mmmm, candy. We wisely put most of the chocolate variety at the bottom of the basket, meaning by the time the early crowd (there mostly for the candy) passed through, there was still some good candy booty to be had.


Analog drop box and some guy checking out my project (I don't think he actually took an invitation, though).


From the back you can't really tell what's going on but this is simultaneous retrieval of the invitation and submission to the drop box. You have no idea how exhilarating witnessing this was.


Opening the invitation. I swear this was not staged (unlike the photos the instructor of the class took for the area website).


On the other side of the wall you can see Ben Smart officially notarizing objects as "fine art"...


...including, a bit later, my camera:

how I made invitations in art school

Now that the dust has settled slightly, I have some time to document, reflect upon, and share my latest efforts. The Lost Object Project has received a handful of online submissions and the analog drop box held several envelopes last time I checked in on it yesterday afternoon. I'll have pics of the gallery configuration, opening, and any other related shenanigans later this week. We're having a candy-coated reception this Tuesday, March 6th, from 5 to about 6:30 p.m. A number of the artists have special happenings planned for the reception, and we're piggy-backing on the paper and pulp show opening that evening in the rest of the atrium's gallery space, so it should be a good time.

In the meantime, here are images of the invitation distributed to grad students and select faculty (in other words, my immediate community within the Museum School), as well as the flyer I printed 400 times last weekend. This is what both versions look like closed:


You can't see it real well, but the envelope seal is a sticker with a little, black briefcase printed on it. The flyer folds out like so:


I tucked a response set inside. Initially I wanted each student at the School to get some version of the invitation/flyer. I made 400 because I swear I heard recently that the School has just shy of 500 full-time students in all degree programs. Turns out that figure is off by a couple hundred, and then there are part-time and continuing education students to think of, not to mention staff and miscellaneous faculty. I decided the more democratic thing to do was place a stack of the folded flyers in a holder next to the drop box. Anyone who wants one can take one.

And this is the invitation ensemble I stuck in each of the grad students' mailboxes last week:


How 'bout them rounded corners?

The way I framed this whole paper campaign at the Museum School ended up being more like a call for submissions to an online exhibition, with the submission deadline being the last day of the show. I'll post what I get after we take down the show on the 13th, but the website will, I hope, continue long after.

And, um, if you haven't submitted your lost object's story/image yet, you should! Because I know you have at least one to share...

I know, right?

Were you as heartbroken as I was when Kathleen was the first to leave this cycle of America's Next Top Model? Okay, so she's a bit clueless and her photo was a tad pedestrian (weren't they all, though?), but she would have been fun to watch for a few more weeks, you know? Natasha should have been the one to go (talk about clueless...). But eliminating the wrong girl first is just par for the course on ANTM. Tyra is as obnoxious as ever (what was all that "stepping" about, anyway? What does that have to do with bootcamp? Furthermore, what does bootcamp have to do with modeling?). And reducing the debates around fur, reproductive rights, and veganism to either/or thinking is not controversial. Plus, I agree that the photos were pretty bland but how does one illustrate via modeling and photography your decision to abstain from eating animal products? Wear vegetable necklaces, of course...


But overall I think cycle 8 has a bit more potential than the last couple of seasons. Early favorites include Jaslene (she really is "fee-uhss"), Samantha, Sarah, Renee, Whitney, and Jael. Either way, it's always worth watching until at least the makeover episode.

In other t.v. news, the series finale of The O.C. last week marked the end of my 13-month relationship with the show, having only started watching last winter break. Neal and I watched all of the first season in just three weeks, if I remember correctly, and I was hooked. This season really was better than the last two, but I think the damage was done in season three. I don't think the show ever fully recovered. And even this season had a few duds. For example, in the episode prior to the finale, did Adam Brody completely forget how to emote? I think the show had become so frivolous that when natural disaster struck (was that the "big one"?), all they could do was stare blankly at one another. But the finale was a lot better. Fast-forwarding was an obvious but unexpected (on my part, at least) solution to resolving so many stories just beginning over the last few episodes (like Kirsten's pregnancy, for example). Julie's marriage made me think of season one's finale, when she married Caleb. That was really the golden age of the show, and it was a nice gesture to go out on a high note, even if it was mostly referential. But the whole buying back of the Berkeley house was completely unbelievable. Those guys would have never given up that amazing house in one of the most ridiculous housing markets in the country! I don't know, maybe if you threw enough cash at them, but still...I found that a little incredible. Then again, the whole show is total nonsense most of the time, so...And the ending was very Six Feet Under, don't you think? Ultimately, though, easy come, easy go. Now I can just focus on other Thursday shows, like The Office and 30 Rock...Oh yeah, and school stuff.

out and about

The Lost Object Project will have a real-world configuration (and drop box for contributions) for a couple of weeks between March 1st and 13th. It's part of the Special Projects class showcase in the Museum School's Project Space (there's a lot of "project" going on). If you're local, stay tuned for details about an opening event/happening, likely to occur the week of March 4th.

I spent twelve hours yesterday in the screenprinting studio, hand-printing 400 flyers (in two colors) and submission forms to distribute at school this week (grad students and faculty are getting a slightly different version, quite like a wedding invitation, that I'm computer-printing...thank God). I haven't printed like that since mid-November last semester and man, am I out of screenprinting shape! My entire back is sore, as well as my hands and forearms. Squeezing the excess water out of a sponge is excruciating.

I'll have documentation of the flyer and invitation a bit later. I'm hoping to get all the materials ready for assembly by the time the Oscar hoopla starts. Nothing like five or six hours of focused t.v. watching to get me through some serious production.

ask me about my briefcase (a call for contributions)

Another online project! Well, sort of. I'm in the "collecting materials" phase of The Lost Object Project, which is still mostly an empty shell of a site, but will (hopefully) eventually host more than just my example of a virtual memorial for an inanimate object that is no longer in my possession but still manages to hold a lot of meaning for me.


Last semester, as something of an afterthought, I printed a postcard to link a gallery installation with a website that I hoped to make somewhat interactive. That part of the project mostly failed, but I think I'm addressing community and interaction a bit more directly in this project. Still, I'd like to collect at least a handful of stories and images to build up the project (with the thought that folks will be more likely to respond if there are a number of examples they can browse) before I start advertising it to the already-online communities. If you think of a story you'd like to share - even if you don't have an image of your object - fill out the online submission form or print out the PDF flyer. Check the site within a couple of days for your object's virtual memorial.

And, hey, thanks for being a part of my test batch!

happy valentimes!

My evening class was cancelled due to nasty weather, which gives me a little time to give you an update on my t.v. watching habits (while Neal makes me a mystery dessert...all I know is that it includes bittersweet chocolate...and that's all I need to know!). I'll start with Wednesdays since it's, well, Wednesday. Lost returned last week and I'm always late to write about these things, after many other trusty sources have already dissected the gnarly tidbits. But I will say that I enjoyed it a bit more than I thought I would. I was not impressed with the first six weeks of the show, and certainly not sad to see it take such a long hiatus. But I'm glad it's back. I think if it continues to reveal information - about characters and about the bigger picture - at the rate of last week's episode, it might just hold my attention for another six weeks.

On Thursdays, I watch (for another two weeks, anyway) The O.C. Even though I think this season is greatly improved over last, I find my interest waning these last few weeks. Maybe it's self-protection, knowing the show is being cancelled, but I just feel like there are so many story lines going and it's all kind of silly and light that I just don't feel as intersted in the characters as I used to. I'm still really sad it's ending, on principle, if nothing else.

I wrote about Ugly Betty a couple of weeks ago and we haven't made a whole lot of progress since then. I am up to date, however, on 30 Rock, which I find truly hi-larious. I can't think of another show in recent memory that has made me laugh so hard and so unexpectedly.

Also making me laugh on Thursdays is The Office, which we finally caught up on a couple of days ago. The Pam-Jim love...square?...is excruciating, but, of course, I probably wouldn't be quite as interested in the show otherwise. And Steve Carell is really great but I have to say, sometimes his Michael Scott is too much for me. It goes past funny straight to uncomfortable. The episode or two when Michael met his match in Andy, though, was well played.

On Friday nights, if we're home (who am I kidding...we usually are), we're likely to watch an episode or two of Battlestar Galllactica. We just finished season one. I really enjoy that show...a lot more than I thought I would. But I feel it deserves its own post entirely (especially bits from the miniseris that are particularly pertinent to my "work"), so more on that later.

On Mondays we watch Heroes. I really like the show, I do, but I have to admit I've been a little distracted lately, what with my latch-hooking and time spent on the laptop. Monday nights are tough, you know? There's a lot of stuff I didn't get done during the weekend that I'm scrambling to complete before too much of the week vanishes. Maybe I should record it to watch later...

On Tuesdays, in theory, I watch Gilmore Girls and House, but I haven't seen either in several weeks. Gilmore Girls just isn't as good as it used to be and I think House was on a long break for much of January. Veronica Mars is still rockin', though. That show kind of satisfies my California t.v. needs.

And in a couple of weeks, I'll be tuning in to America's Next Top Model. As far as reality t.v. goes, I tried watching American Idol, becuase I really feel like I should watch it, but I couldn't get past the weeks and weeks of rejects. I suppose it makes for good t.v. for some folks but I just want to see the people with talent. Now that the show has finally made its way to Hollywood, though, maybe I'll give it another try...

remembering Osiris

In the week since my "too, too much" post, I've rethought my community/connection/interaction/photo/memory project. It will no longer focus on people's lost or otherwise passed on pets. Instead, I've placed the 54 images in my collection of old photos into a photo gallery on my website. I created the web gallery with Adobe CS 2, modifying their template ever so slightly. I preferred the slide show template, but couldn't figure out an easy way of eliminating their image info table...Anyway, it takes awhile to load and I'm not sure how the feedback thing works, but the images are there!

All is not lost, though. I'm busy collecting materials and technical know-how for my revised project, which I hope to launch by about the first week of March, maybe earlier. There will be a PDF brochure that I'll make available on my website that you can download and print out so that you, too, can be a part of the project. I hope you'll interact...Stay tuned!

just how cold is it?

It's so cold that the little bit of heat emanating from your eyeballs fogs up your glasses.

too, too much

I've been tossing around ideas of what I'd like to work on this semester. Everything seems to revolve around communities, connection, interaction, photography, and memory. And kittens are cute so why not apply all that to pets in some way. So I've been doing a little "research & development" today, checking out cat photos on Flickr and videos folks have shot of their pets on Google video and YouTube.



Not a bad way to spend a little time on a Saturday afternoon. Still, I'm plagued by a lack of both confidence in my ideas and the technological know-how to make it all happen. So if anyone wants to lend their PHP/MySQL skills to a project with a lot of potential for overwhelming cuteness, I'd be more than happy to collaborate.

it pays to eat lunch

That's what I learned yesterday, after I spent my two-hour mid-day break in the computer lab trying to figure out how to reduce the size of an InDesign file so that I could attach it to an email. I went straight from there to my one academic elective, which I have since dropped from my schedule. It goes a little something like this...

On Mondays, I'm in an afternoon seminar devoted to professional practices for visual artists. On some Monday evenings I'll have dinner with the next day's visiting artist. On Tuesdays, I'm the TA for a painting seminar, which hosts aforementioned visiting artists. Our first VA, next week, will be Fahamu "the Guru" Pecou. On Wednesdays, I'm in an all day screenprinting class called Special Projects (for special people, of course), followed by (my last!) graduate group critique in the evening. On Thursday and Friday mornings I sort of semi-TA for two Text & Image Arts courses, 'Type as Image' and an advanced projects seminar. On Saturdays, I'm the screenprinting monitor for five hours. On Sundays, I try in vain to complete a long list of housekeeping, grocery-shopping, art-making, reading, blogging, watching of television, and maybe a little yoga...before the cycle begins again. The academic course I'm in the process of dropping (and having serious mixed feelings about being a "quitter" and stuff) would have been on Thursday afternoons, driving me a teensy bit more insane by the end of the spring semester. Instead, I'll work on the large pile o' books I was gifted or purchased with gift cards I received for Christmas. Books about memory and cognitive science (Steven Johnson's Mind Wide Open, for example) and theoretical writings on design (including Ellen Lupton's Design Writing Research).

And somewhere in there I'll find time to spend in the studio. I've been up to my old ways again, scanning family photos, and I kinda like this one of me on the merry-go-round, back in the day. You know how some people use a picture of themselves at a more ideal weight - say stuck to the fridge with a magnet - to remind them of their new year's resolutions? Well, I think I'll look at this one from time to time to keep it all in perspective. I mean, the name of that particular piece of playground equipment sums up the way you want to feel at least occasionally in your hectic week, right?


Which reminds me, somehow, of a sign I saw in Baldy's, a BBQ joint in Bend, that read, "maybe the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about." My brother pointed out that that would be the kind of thing I might blog about, but, alas, I didn't have my camera with me that night.

suddenly I see

Neal and I started watching Ugly Betty (I know, finally, right?) a few nights ago and I couldn't help but notice the similarities to the film The Devil Wears Prada, perhaps in part because we watched that pretty recently, too. And at the end of the pilot episode (I think it was at the end...sometime during that hour) I hear none other than KT Tunstall's "Suddenly I See" (which I thought was titled "she's a beautiful girl"), also in the film. And it dawned on me that that song has pretty much become the score to the core coming-of-age story from a female perspective, whether it's being told across reality television (as in every time a gal dancer gets booted from my summer fave So You Think You Can Dance) or narrative film. Isn't it strange, though, that SYTYCD plays it when the girl gets booted, as opposed to the way it's typically used in t.v. and film, when the heroine, after a series of trials and tribulations, gets a break and simultaneously figures out what she wants to do with her life? Hmm.

Maybe America's Next Top Model should start using that song in some way - they could borrow the strategy of SYTYCD and play it when a model is eliminated, or save it 'til the end, when, after a series of trials and tribulations, the Top Model of their choosing gets a break that reinforces her chosen path in life. Maybe I should include that tip in what could be a long letter of suggested changes to Cycle 8.

Speaking of ANTM, did you know Yaya DaCosta, runner-up (Eva, the ultimate ANTM winner, in my opinion, won that cycle) from Cycle 2 is an actress now? Watching Take the Lead this weekend, I thought LaRhette looked awfully familiar. Sure enough, listed among her accomplishments on IMDB is ANTM (and an upcoming feature directed by John Sayles).

Anyway, in spite of all the things I disliked about Cycle 7, I'm looking forward to the start of the next cycle on February 28th, which will help fill the void left by the departing O.C., which ends just a few days before. Gosh, couldn't they at least let them finish the season through the spring?

the O.C.

School started yesterday, which means my day-tripping ways are officially over...for now, at least. In the spirit of travel, I thought I'd devote a post to "social observer" Sarah Vowell. I read Assassination Vacation during my winter break travels, mostly on the three-leg plane ride back from Bend, Oregon to Boston. I highly recommend it and if she narrates the audio book, go for that version. That's how I was introduced to her essays in The Partly Cloudy Patriot, the title of which inspired my short series of posts about day trips around the Boston area last spring. I'm really drawn to her way of writing, how she blends American history with popular culture in her then and now observations. Like how she digresses into a paragraph or two about The O.C. in the middle chapter of the book that describes the assassination of James A. Garfield. She writes:

Here's a distraction. When researching Luther Guiteau's take on his son's stay at Oneida, I couldn't help but notice that in his letters he refers to the Oneida Community as "the O.C." Coincidentally, The O.C. is the name of a nighttime soap opera on television's Fox network that I am currently obsessed with. Set in Orange County, California, the show's three biggest stars are Peter Gallagher and Peter Gallagher's legendary pair of eyebrows, eyebrows cozy enough to move into - a home, a couple of rocking chairs with a nose between them like a table piled high with every book you ever loved. And thus, when I see the Oneida Community being referred to as "the O.C.," I cannot help but picture all the ladies of Oneida standing in line to curl up in Peter Gallagher's eyebrows, trying in vain not to feel a special love. (The subject of Peter Gallagher's eyebrows, I realize, is a digression away from the Oneida Community, and yet, I do feel compelled, indeed almost conspiracy theoretically bound to mention that one of the reasons the Oneida Community broke up and turned itself into a corporate teapot factory is that a faction within the group, led by a lawyer named James William Towner, was miffed that the community's most esteemed elders were bogarting the teenage virgins and left in a huff for none other than Orange County, California, where Towner helped organize the Orange County government, became a judge, and picked the spot where the Santa Ana courthouse would be built, a courthouse where, it is reasonable to assume, Peter Gallagher's attorney character on The O.C. might defend his clients.)

What I most enjoyed about The Partly Cloudy Patriot was listening to her narration of essays about places we were driving to for the day. Like, for example, if you're on your way to Salem, Mass., you should listen to "God Will Give You Blood to Drink in a Souvenir Shot Glass." And maybe it's because I no longer live in California that I appreciate "California as an Island," perhaps my favorite piece of Vowell writing. Like Vowell, "as a teen beatnik, I had dreamed of growing up and joining some Bay Area subculture." Okay, so I wasn't exactly a teen beatnik, but I did write my eleventh grade honors English term paper on Jack Kerouac's On The Road. And there are other, more significant reasons why I can relate to this essay. Vowell goes on to write about how she lived out that dream, moving to San Francisco when she was 24, getting a job in an antiquarian print gallery. And the similarities continue: "At the end of the day, I would set the gallery's alarm, put very loud grunge music on my Walkman, take the slow bus home, and pull another graduate school rejection letter out of the mailbox."

Geographical displacement (like when your boss sends you to Philadelphia or, in my case, when you finally get an acceptance letter from a graduate school and move to Boston) makes you aware of things you might otherwise take for granted, like California's quest for quality. "Quality," Vowell writes, "is an obsession there - good food, good wine, good movies, music, weather, cars. Those sound like the right things to shoot for, but the never-ending quality quest is a lot of pressure when you're uncertain and disorganized and, not least, broker than broke. Some afternoons a person just wants to rent Die Hard, close the curtains, and have Cheerios for lunch."


Researching prints and maps provided Vowell with consolation and she goes on to describe a period in European map-making that depicted California as an island. "The idea of California as an island was a lie and a myth, but from where I was sitting, it seemed true enough." For me, that myth seems more believable now that I'm 3,000 miles away, looking for the familiar in t.v. shows mostly set in southern California, where I spent very little of my eight years in the state. And to think one of them will be over in just five, short episodes.

Sigh.

starbuck

After a restless four days at home, I convinced Neal to abandon his thesis research for a little day-tripping. Much of what New England has to offer is best enjoyed during warmer months, but one thing that actually seems more appropriate on a rainy, January day is a drive south about one hour to coastal New Bedford, home of the New Bedford Whaling Museum, in the heart of the New Bedford Whaling National Historic Park, and Seamen's Bethel, described in Herman Melville's Moby Dick.


The primarily industrial town is pretty sleepy this time of year. We spent a couple of hours inside the museum, 20 minutes of which was spent watching a film ("City That Lit The World") that reminded me that the park and museum's primary mission includes documenting the history of the whaling industry and the role the city played in it, with a more recent need to educate the public about the conservation of endangered whales. It is a whaling museum after all, not a whale museum, but for some reason I was a little surprised that the conservation bit wasn't more prevalent in the museum's mission and exhibits.

For lunch, we followed Fodor's recommendation and headed away from downtown to check out Antonio's, clearly a local hang-out for New Bedford's large Portuguese population. It's local in the sense that everyone stops what they're doing and looks up at you as you walk in. I imagine that's how a fictional outsider (Charles Gordon Windsor, Jr., for example) might have been greeted walking into Mystic, Connecticut's Mystic Pizza (the actual pizza joint was supposedly inspiration for Amy Jones' screenplay and the 1988 film was shot on location there). Anyway, the crab cakes and fried fish we had were tasty enough but I quickly remembered how eating fried food makes me feel a little queasy.


Back in town, we walked part of the self-guided tour, down to the piers, where we spotted this cute little house at the base of the pedestrian bridge that takes you back across Route 18. There's a small boulder in the yard with a plaque on it commemorating two dogs that served as "guardians of the waterfront."


The rainy weather made a hot beverage sound awfully nice and I remembered that we had a Starbuck's gift card with us. We kept our eyes peeled on the drive back but all we passed were the usual Dunkin' Donuts every few miles.

I learned last night, watching the first hour or so of the miniseries that started the new "Battlestar Gallactica," that Starbuck is a character in Moby Dick, the name of the first mate on the whaling ship Pequod. Starbucks coffee chain supposedly took its name from this character, as did, I assume, the writers on Battlestar Gallactica, for the feisty blond played by Katee Sackhoff. Talk about a full-circle weekend, huh?

planes, trains, and automobiles

I'm back. Our trip to Roseville, Brown's Valley, and Oakland, California, as well as an unexpected fourth leg to Bend, Oregon was mostly good. And when the circumstances weren't, it was still nice to be with family members I wasn't expecting to see.

In contrast to epic travel posts of the past, I'll concentrate on images this time, giving you a visual timeline of where I was and what I was doing between Christmas eve and the first week of the New Year.

Driving from SFO through South San Francisco, across the Bay Bridge, and into the central valley to visit the inlaws in Roseville and Brown's Valley.


This billboard at the bottleneck approaching the Bay Bridge was there when I suffered through this commute two or three times a week, nearly two years ago.


On the Bay Bridge, looking across to the Port of Oakland and the large cranes that supposedly provided inspiration for George Lucas' AT-AT Walkers in the Star Wars films.


Christmas eve lunch at the best burger chain, In-n-Out, found primarily in California, where it was started in 1948, with locations popping up over the years throughout the state and in neighboring Nevada and Arizona.


Followed by a week of little picture-taking including a couple of afternoon "dinners", the opening of too many presents, the eating of too much chocolate, and a lot of lounging around. Only one movie was seen on the big screen ("Night at the Museum"), but a number of DVDs were watched and I made it to the second world of Super Mario Brothers on Neal's Nintendo DS Lite.


After a couple of nights in the sparsely populated Brown's Valley (near Grass Valley in the Sierra foothills), we traveled back to the Bay Area to spend the rest of our trip very close to our old neighborhood in Oakland.


For some reason, even though it's only been a year and a half since we left, because there's been so much change in our lives (not to mention the important addition to the family of friends we stayed with) I expected more to have changed in the area. The Lake Merritt neighborhood is mostly unchanged from the time we left. Plans are underway to improve the pedestrian areas around the lake and the small Albertson's grocery store that I never liked has closed and will soon be replaced with a Trader Joe's (in addition to the Whole Foods being built on the other end of the lake). I'm sure locals are concerned about increased traffic in the area but if we still lived in the Adams Point section of the lake neighborhood, we'd be within easy walking distance and quite happy, I imagine, with the change. The Kwik Way burger joint is not yet a McDonald's, which I guess is a good thing but let's not pretend their food is all that great or any healthier than McD's. And the building I used to work in (during my on-again, off-again six-year college relationship with a suite of law offices in downtown Oakland) will soon see its view of the lake obscured by a parking structure and church being built at the site of its former open-air parking lot.


We enjoyed many of the culinary delights the East Bay has to offer, including Mexican food at Berkeley's Picante and El Farolito in Oakland's Fruitvale district, a delicious spinach & mushroom stuffed pizza at Zachary's (arguably the best Chicago-style pizza outside or within Chicago, from what I've heard), burgers at Barney's, and pizza and scones (separately) from Arizmendi, where I would walk to at least once a week and then immediately cancel out any calories I burned on the half-hour roundtrip trek.


On Wednesday night last week I took my first train ride (stateside, at least) from Oakland's Jack London Square station to Chemult, Oregon, followed by a short shuttle ride into Bend.

While in Bend, I learned by email from a friend that "The O.C." is being canceled. I'm devastated.

3 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes

To continue the holiday project sharing...Here's an image of the first felt candy cane mouse I made a couple of weeks ago. I made two more after this one that came out considerably better (and I remembered to give them little red pom poms for noses instead of all black facial features, as you see here), but I haven't had a chance to make more. So you get to see the first one. The first of anything for me is kind of like that first pancake, you know?


I put it on our wacom tablet that also doubles as a mousepad for scale (and irony). They were super easy and fun to make but in hindsight, I'm not sure kids are all that excited to receive them. My niece and nephew were sufficiently interested (they were incorporated into packaging for Christmas books we let them open early) but not all that impressed that I made them myself. Maybe that was assumed. Anyway, I had this idea of making one for all the kids in my social/family circle (20 or so), but I'm not so sure. I might still make a ton of them just to use up the felt and pom poms and candy canes. Put them in the mousetraps at school...Anyway, I think they would have been fun to make with kids but ultimately, I think this kind of stuff is way more fun for adults like myself to make than for kids to receive. There were a few other projects I never got around to, mostly because buying the supplies would have been fairly expensive, not to mention the time I'd need to devote to it and the likelihood that they wouldn't turn out all that well. Maybe next year...

As for my board wrap-up...I showed four projects, including the work leading up to and spinning off of my main endeavor this semester, plus one project that is ongoing that we never really got around to. I'd say about 75% of my projects are still highly unresolved but I think it was agreed that I made some progress on this last project. And even where it was less successful, I feel like I at least did something substantial that I can work from. I was encouraged to check out the work of artists Buzz Spector, David Robbins (particularly his Ice Cream Social series), Janet Cardiff (one of her sound installations is up - for a short while longer - at M.I.T.'s List Visual Arts Center), and Sam Durant (another show I have to see before the end of the week). I was also encouraged to check out the t.v. show "Battlestar Gallactica," and just generally mine the "musty academic" vibe in much of my recent work and continue to explore my use of technology (and the relationship between new technology and nostalgia for old technology) as a metaphor for memory.

Just as soon as I get back from California! If I don't write again before I leave on Sunday, have a delightful holiday, whatever you celebrate. I'll be seeing you in the blogisphere in '07.

holiday treats

I'm too tired tonight to comment on my review board or final paper other than to write that both went well and I'll share more on board follow-up a bit later. It takes me a few days to decompress...

In the meantime, I've been keeping myself busy with holiday projects, which, this year, included a fair amount of time spent in the kitchen. Usually not such a good idea, but my festive treats turned out pretty well this year, if I do say so myself (Neal valiantly tried to salvage my miserably failed triple-chocolate fudge of last year, which resulted in a heaping pile of never-quite-solidified chocolate that hung out on the bottom shelf of our fridge for months). This year, after spending a whopping $6 and change on the holiday edition of Martha Stewart Living (I blame a long line at the store), I was determined to get my money's worth, selecting four recipes to try and another two or three craft projects.

For the food, I decided on two sweet and savory nut recipes that I made the evening before my board: Sesame Soy Cashews with Wasabi Peas and Nori


and Cinnamon Spice Maple-Sugar Walnuts.


The wasabi peas are pretty spicy and the walnuts are super sweet so I guess they kinda balance each other out.

Both recipes worked pretty well. Magazine recipes are never as thorough as they could be (especially for someone as inexperienced and unnatural in the kitchen as me), so, for example, I wasn't sure exactly what the recipe meant by cutting the sheet of nori (probably about a square foot with strips sort of suggested by what appeared to be perforated lines going across) into 3/4 inch strips. I cut little bit-size squares, but honestly, I didn't care much for the nori anyway. It adds a nice color contrast, though. And the sugar, syrupy liquid that you cook the walnuts in probably needed another couple of minutes to reduce before I added the nuts, but it all worked out in the end.

I didn't have time - before my board - for the third recipe I selected (making a quick loaf of banana bread instead), so I made these last night: classic truffles dipped in cocoa powder, chopped hazelnuts, shredded coconut, and candy cane bits.


I've had such inconsistent luck with fudge over the years (I guess I could break down and buy a candy thermometer...it's just that it worked so well one year without it!) that I thought for sure truffles would be equally tricky. But once you get the hang of it (mostly the scooping of the truffle mixture and then the dipping in melted chocolate and rolling in topping parts), they're actually pretty easy. They're not as perfectly round as Martha's, but they taste pretty good. As the recipe suggests, I attempted to use a cookie dough scoop that I bought at Michael's (where I got the candy boxes)...It worked for about one truffle and then the metal bit popped out. Note to self: Michael's is not a specialty food or kitchenwares store.

And I had little success with the coconut. I'm not sure if there's some special kind of coconut (I used shredded) that would have worked better...Perhaps if I'd pulsed it a few times in the food processor? So Neal and I will have to put them out of their misery along with the other rejects. The hazelnut worked best, followed by the crushed candy cane, and of course, the cocoa powder covered them pretty well.

More sharing to follow...

just like you and me...but not really

Today is my mother's birthday (and, coincidently, my brother-in-law's). When I was a kid we'd always put up our holiday decorations on her birthday, since it's usually right about halfway between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Keeping that tradition alive, we put out our small collection of Christmas decorations...a kitchen tile, a tubby little snowman door stopper, a couple of miniature nutcrackers, and a pine-scented candle. For the first eight or so years of adulthood I would decorate a table-top tree that my Dad gave me, but that tree was sacrificed in the move east. So the pine-scented candle will have to get us through another holiday. Fortunately for us, my brother and his family included us in their weekend of gingerbread-house building and Christmas tree decorating so I feel sufficiently ready for the holidays. I've got a mysterious thing for wreaths this year, so I might have to go out and get one, but otherwise, I'm all set.

Despite the fact that it took us all of ten minutes to decorate for the holidays, I'm finding it hard to concentrate on this final week of review board preparation and paper writing. I've got cards to fill out, projects to finish, a little more shopping to do, food to make... And while I feel mostly ready for my review board on Wednesday, as it gets closer I can't help but get a little nervous and feel like I should be doing something to prepare. Something in addition to the hours and hours I have left on my latch-hook pillow that I'm not sure what to say about, anyway.

And perhaps if I get a little pop culture recap off my chest, my mind will be a bit clearer. As you probably know by now, Melrose did not take the ANTM title last week. Going into the final episode, I told myself, as I always do, that I didn't really care which of the top three (Melrose, Caridee, or Eugena) won. Especially considering I've been a bit disappointed with this cycle since it began. But I wasn't surprised or terribly disappointed that Eugena got the boot about halfway through the finale, leaving Melrose and Caridee in the top two. And I have to say, when Caridee was revealed as the winner, I was disappointed that Melrose didn't win. I understand why Melrose didn't exactly take viewer's choice award, especially in the last couple of weeks. While her attitude didn't bother me as much as it seemed to bother other viewers, I did feel like her personality was a little lacking, a little flat maybe. But the girl did everything right! She took consistently good (although, I'll admit, not as amazing or transformative as past participants) photos, won most of the challenges, has a knowledge of the industry (and seems moderately intelligent, in general), and can work the runway. Other than that first week and her Covergirl commercial and photo shoot at the end, she was pretty stellar as far as the competition goes.

And to be fair, Caridee was one of my favorites from the beginning. Her personality was likeable from the start and she took gorgeous photos. But about halfway through the competition I think she lost it a little bit. She's a little more than "unpredictable," as Mr. Jay pointed out in the final panel. And in the review of their photographs throughout the competition, I'm pretty certain the panel of judges completely changed their position on Caridee's photo from the bull fighting shoot. I remember them dissecting that photo, saying Caridee looked awkward and that her face was too sexy, too pinup. Perhaps compared to Melrose, what they meant is that it was still less than perfect but better in comparison, but I feel like they changed their story a bit to justify the less qualified candidate winning the title.

Ultimately, my theory is that what makes or breaks an otherwise top model is the CoverGirl contract. All cycle long the girls are encouraged to be fierce, high-fashion, runway-strutting top models. But in the end, it's the awkward girl next door who's a wreck on the runway (and in general) who wins because she's likeable and America can relate to her. But you know, models are a little like politicians. I don't want my President to be like the guy next door, 'cause the guy next door is probably not qualified to lead the country. Likewise, I don't understand why it's so important for a top model to be just like your girlfriend next door, other than because she has to sell you lip gloss. And who do you trust to sell your product, Melrose or Caridee?

So, needless to say, I was disappointed, in who they chose to win, in the fact that Melrose wasn't a little more diplomatic throughout the season, and with this cycle in general. Too much Tyra, too many floofy dresses and big hair, and one too many weird photo shoots. Will I watch cycle 8 in the spring, though? You better believe it!

winter freakin' wonderland - part two

As an addendum to the still shots below. Okay, so who hasn't seen 30 seconds of snow falling? And this is nothin' for the seasoned east coaster. But it's got a kind of meditative quality. Not exactly like watching the ocean from the California coast or anything, but, hey, I'll take what I can get.

winter freakin' wonderland

Well, it was this morning. The dusting we got from a "nor'easter wannabe" has mostly melted since. But this is what I woke up to this morning.


And from another window.


I had to write about the first snow...it's tradition.

sizzlin' cecily

I'm going to be obnoxious again and direct you to my other blog. You can see images and read explanations of what I made (to sell, but didn't, sadly) for the reception we held last night.


Okay, now that that's out of the way...I would post those kinds of images here, but since I do have a whole 'nother website and blog devoted to this particular project, I figured I'd be consistent. Now that the show has been officially received (postcards printed and multiples made) I can shift gears and finish a couple of other projects before my review board on December 13th. I'm actually feeling fairly ready in terms of production. I have a few things I'd like to work on a bit more, but mostly, I'll spend much of the next two weeks just thinking about what I've done and how I'd like my board to go, next semester being my last before thesis pressure kicks in. I've got some ideas for what my thesis show will look like (and a super idea for a title, oddly) and I'm feeling like I had a pretty successful semester, but I've still got a lot of work to do to get there.

I haven't blogged much this semester - only eight or nine posts, about a third of which seem to have been largely devoted to television. But I did have a very blogworthy afternoon on Tuesday. As part of a painting seminar I'm in, we were invited to attend an intimate gallery walkthrough over at the MFA with Cecily Brown. She has a mid-career retrospective up right now, originally organized by the Des Moines Art Center. As we walked through, I definitely got the sense that these kinds of retrospective shows are as much for the artists as they are for the public, students, critics, etc., that make up the art-consuming part of the world. She seemed excited to see her work in the space, older paintings next to more recent work, themes recurring and evolving over time, creating all sorts of possibilities for years and years of future work. It was incredibly inspiring and energizing.

I'm a fan of her work, but I have to admit I was apprehensive about meeting her in person. I guess I've never met a famous artist before (although I heard a couple of my faves speak last year, including Ed Ruscha and Kara Walker...but that's different) but I thought it might be like the often disappointing encounters I've heard folks describe after meeting a famous actor. If anything, meeting the extremely engaging artist in person only increased my respect and admiration for her work (and work ethic). I remember being introduced to her paintings as an undergrad, after her first solo show in New York, when these hot young things from London (Jenny Seville's another one) were painting up a storm, a decade or so after painting had been declared dead for the umpteenth time, when everyone else was still gaga for installation and video art, and at a time when I was just getting serious about this stuff, dabbling in a little figure painting myself. So to be able to meet her and hear her talk about her work was definitely a high moment in my academic/art career thus far.

Of course, I think some paintings are better than others. I'm not completely convinced by the more recent, much smaller paintings. I tend to favor the larger works, but I appreciate her reasons for working on a bunch of smaller images. And the question I was too embarassed to ask had a little to do with what she grazed over a number of times in her talk, using animals instead of people in earlier paintings to avoid gender issues, for example. Pretty much everything I read about her brings up her insistent denial that she's taking up a feminist brush, with so many of her resources and inspirations coming from old master paintings and the male-dominated post WWII abstract expressionist tradition. What's most important to her is painting, not that she's a woman painting these kinds of images in this way. And I respect her priorities, but I also think the art world has changed over the last six or seven years (along with the overall political climate) since she first started showing, and that we've become a little lazy when it comes to feminist issues. Undergrads are getting curious about the f-word when older grad students bring it up in critiques. In other words, the younger students don't seem to have a clue about the various waves of the feminist movement (not that I have any idea which wave we're currently in) and its relationship to and effect on visual culture in general. And I think that's kinda scary. So part of me wishes artists like Cecily Brown would take up a feminist brush (or camera, or squeegee, or whatever). It's tricky, that's for sure.