Watercolor Rorschach Tests

My earliest memory of watercolors was in a summer art program at age 5 or 6. The teacher was trying to teach us color mixing to create the brown of a tree trunk. My efforts resulted a puddly, rainbow-colored tree trunk. When my mom came to pick me up, the teacher showed her my sloppy, soggy rainbow tree and told my mom I had quite the imagination. It was the first time I heard the term "Creative license" used. I was devasted. I hadn't meant to take "creative license," I was attempting to be representational, dammit! It may have been that moment that watercolors became my artistic arch nemesis. And also my favorite media to observe in galleries and watch other artists excel at, with undying admiration!

Determined to conquer my fear of the medium, and even learn to love it for myself, I enlisted in a class as my art elective. And gasp, needless to say, I am in love. I think there must be some fear involved in falling in love, or it doesn't seem real. Just to see those translucent colors mixing and separating on the palette, or a well-made mistake on the paper... a drip, a splash, blooming, spreading, bleeding, salted, splattered. a beautiful mess.

All that Remains of Fall

A Portrait of Mortimer 12/09

created for my musical muse, Josh.

(become friends with Mort the skull on facebook!)

Untitled Still Life 11/09

my final in class assignment in Painting class last Fall.

I think once it is framed, it will claim a home in the hall at the top of the staircase in my mom's house. My sister likes it because it has an almost steampunk quality to it.

Grant us the Serenity...

  

secular test-tube mezuzah

The tube is embellished with each of the five elements and symbols of seasons. It contains a paper scroll tightly wrapped around a head of wheat,  and bound with red thread. 

In black ink, the inside reads:

“For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

And on the outside of the scroll, scrawled faintly in ephemeral pencil marks, a warning:
“If you don't create change, change will create you”

The test tube text marks my door, just as change marks my life, and the passage of years will begin to mark my face and body.
It reminds me daily to do more than accept change, but to welcome it, to make it my ally. To always be proactive rather than reactive.


On a more global scale, It pleases me to see the Ghandian philosophy of "being the change" we want to see in the world is steadily being brought to the forefront in our collective consciousness.

And as this new year begins, I foresee so much potential for 2010. It can be magical. It's not going to be easy. I have the suspicion it's going to take a lot of valiant effort on the part of all. But it's going to be so worth it.

Postpartum: 2009

It's that feeling I get anytime I make something or do something I consider a great personal feat or success. Like I had channeled some force completely outside of myself, and the final result has made its exodus from my being and I am left vulnerable and doe eyed.

It's the downward slope near the end of a relationship continuum. Where you look down and see the end of something in site, followed by the gaping infinite space where the fear and endless possibility dwell.

it is the door you close before another door opens, and you are left for several heart-pounding moments in a whispering dark hallway.

2009 has been quite the dichotic one. A veritable yin-yang of good and bad. Or maybe that's an unfair assessment... as many events are not exclusively good or bad, but no less emotionally challenging. I feel haggard.

I can scarcely remember anything that happened before beginning my first semester at CSUF in August, except to say that much of my summer was geared towards preparing for this past fall. Actually, I can hardly remember the past year beyond my 2 weeks in Australia early December.

What the hell happened this past year?

Many many beginnings and endings in such little time. I know many of us have lost friends, mentors, family members, and I want to take the time to remember them especially right now, before the year is over.
Conversely, some of us have found friends, mentors and family members as well, and so in the face of loss, the world continues to turn in a hopeful little way.

One thing is certain, this has not been a neutral year. It has been highly emotionally charged.
Full of many failures and successes. One thing right after another. I don't think I've laughed or cried quite so much in years prior to this one. Maybe a bit towards the end of '08, that fall was a pretty good lead in to this year...

But... in summation: 2009. Weirdly... you will be missed? Or not, you were fucking exhausting. But much of it I wouldn't change... there were some great gems this year. Some of it I would change, but eh. There you have it. Never try to control the uncontrollable. Bend to avoid splitting in the storm, and when the spring comes, you live again. And stronger for it. It's all cyclical.

2010: What lies ahead? How the hell do you follow an act like 2009?? I'm a little excited, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also pretty scared. Mostly I'm afraid of stagnation and complacency. As much as I need a little respite, I don't need to get too comfortable. It may be that I'm becoming a bit addicted to the reality or ideology of change.

Let's make 2010 incredible, shall we?

Bunny- the stuffed animal with a higher degree than me (MFA, no joke), travel journal handcrafted by your's truly, and a cup of refreshing tea. Victoria, Australia 11/09 

Proud Big Sis

My brother Jared just started a blog, which I'm really happy about, as I enjoy his fresh perspective. He's got a good eye for photography and intelligent things to say. And that's coming from a totally unbiased source.

Also, if you happen to stumble over there, he turns 20 today, so wish him a happy b-day.

All of the siblings together on thanksgiving:

Amy, me, Jared and Scott

Instant Gratification

Instant Gratification: a polaroid party opening reception will be Saturday, January 9 from 6:00-9:00pm at Copro Gallery bergamot arts complex 2525 michigan ave. T5, Santa Monica, CA 90404. Be there!


For more info check out www.ISMcommunity.org/FAQs.

Come and see if you can find some of my photos:






Instant Gratification August '09 at the Hibbleton:

Me with my friend Leslie, who also has Polaroids in the show

My mom and I

 The bearded dude in the hat is my brother.

Chairs at the laundramat by my old apartment.

A Return to Objectivity and Formalism

With the ninja-like approach of winter, my sudden discomfort with being alone has transformed into a craving for solitude. Not the kind you get locking yourself in a room, but the kind you take with you into the mountains with a good book or a new set of watercolors. There is something alchemical about the twilight hour between fall and winter. leaves may be dying, but I feel more alive. Maybe it's the shock of the cold- like jumping into a freezing pool.

Life has been very real this Autumn, and imbuing my "paper bags" painting with loaded metaphor left me feeling strangely raw. As this semester draws to a hasty and whirlwind close, as I dust off the dead leaves of bittersweet fall (and as I wax relentlessly poetic), I feel increased need for objectivity and detachment. Maybe not so much detachment as his much more optimistic cousin, non-attachment. (Much less bitter, and with Buddhist sensibilities!)

My intellect is exhausted, my emotions are expended, and the conceptual artist in me may in fact need to hibernate for the wintertime. And I intend to let her sleep.
No more emoting, no more searching for truths and hidden meanings. When something wants to be found, it will present itself. No more self inquisition and pseudo-psychic intuiting. At least not 'till January. Haha.

For now: thinking not feeling, observing not analyzing, representing not imagining.
I don't need my unrelenting thoughts telling me to infuse every creative expression with spiritual meanings, references, simile, or my innermost (yet universal) desires. Blah blah blah. I don't even want to feel the need to provoke insight with the obscure a la Hugo Ball.

I just want to see something, break it down into colors and shapes, and make something that resembles that something. For the first time in a long time, I just want to paint, draw, write about, admire objects strictly for their formal elements. It's like a meditation.