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critique
Transformation: More Than Meets The Eye*
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Painting is better the more it’s like sculpture; sculpture is worse the more it’s like painting.

A painting can be:

A. A picture that references something, an object or event
B. The materials, paint, canvas, paper, wood, etc., self-referencing
C. A new, self-sufficient object, without reference to the material or thing it portrays, an ecosystem.

The descriptions of A, B, and C could be related to sentence structure; speech, the most basic form of expression. A would be an object of some kind, since the object or event portrayed is the subject of the expression. The Battle of Sebastopol is portrayed in the painting (object of preposition). It would still be an object even if you said, This painting portrays the Battle of Sebastopol. In B, the painting would be the subject of the sentence. The paper and paint is on the wall. It is C, the verb, in which both the object and the materials are transformed into something new. It reveals, so that we may see lies. It conceals or lies, so that we may see truth. And all of the above vice versa.

Let’s not deceive ourselves. Ruses abound. Conventions that elevate. A canon of props. Presentation that distorts through lenses, reflections of the original, like a periscope. Implementations of frames, white walls, pedestals, white walls, bright lights, polished floors. Reproductions in the form of mass-produced prints, whitespace of pixels on the Web, photography. Things that, seen in real life, might still fit the B definition can define an entire lifestyle in reproduction. Interior décor of living spaces, with the right wall paint color and furniture, particularly art photographed “properly” for lifestyle magazines and websites. Finally, there is the question of Authority. Who is Authority? In our ever-fragmented society, Authority can be found in the collection at the city museum, the director of the trendiest gallery, the framed art section at Target, the local watercolor society, art history college textbooks, photography in décor/architecture/lifestyle media. This is where things get tricky, as we all know. Depending on one’s sensitivity to these things, you can see through the BS to the work itself and determine whether or not the materials/subject are indeed transformed.

But must art be transformed all the time? Do the materials/subject need to be transformed in order to be considered art? My favorite paintings in the museums are the portraits and still lifes. Things that don’t claim to be anymore than what they are. Exercises in capturing reality, air shows of a mastery of technique… and perhaps the wealthy patron’s self-interest in portraying themselves a certain way or promoting a non-art-related agenda. Perhaps these genres are transformed to me because they represent the lifestyle and psychology of bygone eras I cannot begin to fathom.**

So is this requirement, rather, request for transformation a 20th century/contemporary invention? At first, I would think yes. We work largely to extract meaning from detritus. But no, that’s not really true. In the previous question, I mentioned the patron’s agenda. Was the painting a transformation to him? A transformation of self reflected in the pool of religion, possessions, wealth, intellect? It must’ve been.

Characteristically though, anything I aim to critique in the work of others, I am hyper-conscious and critical of in my own work. I fully admit my own vulnerablilty and insecurity here. Everything I do, I ask, am I really transforming these materials? Am I pushing this beyond paint and/or fabric? I cup my hands around my mouth and gently breathe onto the materials and ideas. I water them. I make outlines. I attempt bestow life and conjure magic into them. Softly. The insights are big bangs, whole worlds of thought, but their actual growth is slow, it must be done gently. Mainly this happens when I’m not actually working on something. It happens at the gym, in my dreams, on a walk, going down youtube or wikipedia rabbit holes. I psych myself up for days, work through the next steps, then go back look at the results objectively, as if I happened across it in a gallery, café — anywhere you can see an actual painting, not a print. I’m a perfectionist; most of the time I fall short of my own assessments. Did I succeed in the transformative aspects? But you can’t do that forever. Eventually you have to go with your first instincts and make your only goal to finish the damn thing. Because really, in this questioning, you’re drifting further and further ashore from the original idea. That’s the journey I often take; the transformation is due to an certain amount of extensive study/research and Socratic-type questioning on the intellectual level, and equally deep emotion and gut-driven determination. Both exercises involve the spirit, the soul, and I can’t help but feel that if one is lacking, the transformation is not complete. So if your painting is just paint and paper, or your painting is just a picture of something, don’t be ashamed to admit that, to admit that it needs props. It is not necessarily an insignificant thing. But please don’t assume that is is art.

*Transformers

**I wish that I was born a thousand years ago
critique, news
Pop Up Spaces Downtown Scavenger Hunt Exhibit
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At last, we got the space we wanted to display participants’ creative responses to the prompts on the Downtown Tucson Scavenger Hunt back in March. The resulting photos, drawings and writings will be displayed in old window display boxes on the side of the former McLellan’s department store, a beacon of classic downtown shopping for 50 years which has been vacant since the early 90s. The opening will take place inside of the currently vacant building, which is amazing in its enormity filled with layers of history. The space reminds me of: Gindler’s department store in Hallettsville, Texas, where my grandma took all the grandkids shoe-shopping once a year throughout my entire baby-to-teenhood (it shut down in the late 90’s and was remodeled into a special events venue, where we held our wedding reception in 2005 [man, that was surreal for me]); and Florian Slowtawa’s One After the Other at Arthouse in Austin. This process has been a lot of hard work and worry trying to put all these pieces together, but we made it! We thought about having a gallery exhibition, but that context seemed too far removed from the general public — people who work downtown, people who utilize services downtown, people who go barhopping and to concerts but don’t go to art galleries. We wanted this display to be in the middle of the things, literally. We wanted the Scavenger Hunt to be a statement of creative thinking by “regular” people — whatever that means (adults, kids, artistic, non-artistic, families, singles, couples) — outside of the ongoing city government and developer drama, and less so an overarching “high art” concept. That’s not to say that there won’t be future happenings that are more artist-produced and less community-driven, but our goal is to evoke positive conversation about space, businesses, history, future and shape a collaborative spirit. Hopefully Pop Up Spaces can influence the much-needed breakdown of the paracitic city-developer power structure and enable the public to demand the ability to make changes to their city as they see fit, on their own.

DOWNTOWN SCAVENGER HUNT EXHIBIT OPENING MAY 9

POP UP SPACES presents

The Downtown Scavenger Hunt Exhibit
McLellan Building in Downtown Tucson
63 E. Congress (corner of Scott and Congress)

OPENING EVENT
SATURDAY, MAY 9, 2009
10:30 AM – 12:30 PM

Exhibit on building exterior facing Scott Avenue will be continuously available for public viewing throughout the summer.

“It was fun. I drive through downtown all the time but have never paid attention to the great old buildings.”

“Awesome! Great activity to involve kids and families.”

–Feedback from Pop Up Spaces Downtown Scavenger Hunters

On Sunday, March 1, 2009, 30 plus Southern Arizonans descended upon downtown to take part in the Downtown Scavenger Hunt. Participants were given clues to find 10 locations, each one with a short creative activity that encouraged them to engage with the current environment, reflect upon the historic record, and imagine future possibilities for the space.

The 10 locations (and their interactive activities) included:

- At 41 N. 6th Avenue, which housed Model Bakery from the 1940s to the mid 1960s, scavengers found a “kiosk” with a note that said, “This place used to be filled with the welcoming scent of baking bread. Now it’s covered in bars instead. Write a note about what you think happened and tack it to the bulletin board.”

- At 47 N. Scott, most recently the restaurant Motzi, visitors were asked, “If you could open this restaurant tomorrow, what would be on the menu?” Responses in the attached booklet included “cactus cookies,” “eggs Florentine (a breakfast joint)”, and “tasty Indian food.”

The public is invited to come see the activities from all 10 spots and the comments, drawings and photos produced, and to explore the interior of a currently empty space at the McLellan building. Printed handouts of the clues will be available for participants to find the sites on their own, and other fun, family-friendly participatory surprises are in store. Co-founders and local artists Julie Ray and Rachelle Díaz will be present answer questions about the ideas behind the Pop Up Spaces project. Visitors are encouraged to try something new downtown, whether it’s lunch at a local restaurant, or a trip to the nearby Tucson Museum of Art or Tucson Children’s Museum. You can also enter the raffle to win a basket full of wonderful goodies showcasing the eclectic mix of businesses the area has to offer.*

For those unable to attend the opening but want to try the Downtown Scavenger Hunt, the clues may be downloaded from our website here. Participants in the ongoing scavenger hunt are welcome to send digital photos and comments about their experiences to us at info@popupspaces.org. Photos of the March 1 event may be viewed online.

POP UP SPACES seeks to produce temporary, interactive, site-specific installations in empty spaces in which the visitors are not just expected to be passive viewers, but asked to be active participants.  The goal of these art-based experiences is to enhance economic vitality and public engagement in downtown Tucson through promotion of the area’s culture, history, architecture and business community.

*Raffle prizes donated by Desert Blooms, Voices Community Stories, Fox Theatre, Dinnerware Artspace, Chris’ Cafe, Shot in the Dark Cafe, Cup Cafe, Maynard’s Market & Kitchen, On A Roll, Rockin’ Queen, Hydra, Preen, and more.

Exhibition space donated by John Wesley Miller. Exhibit panel printing sponsored in part by Reproductions, Inc. Special thanks to Monica Surfaro Spiegelman and photographer Roy Chamberlin.
critique, ideas, oracles, style, www
Artiquette
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Well, my prediction about the Tucson city budget meeting earlier this week was fulfilled: the impending fallout is now a bitter controversy. As Tu Scene is not a place for critique (yet), I shall blow hot pixels here, opinionated Art Diva that I am. Who knew everyone and their dog who opposed the hotel and renter’s tax would also be wearing red? Next time arts-supporters should don something more unique, like purple and yellow polka dots or balloon hats… or maybe just dress up a little so as not to look like the rest of the rabble.

Lately I’ve been thinking that artists need to re-consider the way they present themselves to the public in dress and unfortunately, in some cases, basic hygiene. As governmental entities and charitable organizations run lower and lower on funds, public outcry grows against their financial footing of non-essential projects that support lazy artists. Now is the time for us to combat that crank stereotype. I’ve seen artists who go all-out on the presentation/installation of their work to near-perfection yet viewer-ly accessible as possible, and arrive at their own opening in blown-out khaki shorts, birkenstocks with nasty cracked toenails hanging out (in the over 35-ish crowd) or stanky All-Stars, pit-stained t-shirt and oily hair (if they’re under about 35).

Same goes for interaction with non-artists. By the word interaction, I mean interpersonal relations beyond things like manners, etiquette, sense of humor. Throwing our visionary weirdness in in the face of squares who will never “get it” doesn’t help to win respect and will continue to put us on the fringes of public opinion in emphasizing the vital role the arts play in everyday life and education. Rather than being militant eccentrics in our dealings with average Joes, let’s shift that energy to doing really, really awesome work and producing mind-blowing public shows with the best of the money, time and energy we have. This will take a lot of honesty with ourselves: honesty about our own apperance and actions, honesty about how the other half really lives and thinks, honesty about our own expectations vs expectations of others. It takes a great deal of consideration, maybe not quite courtesy or “dumbing-down,” but consideration nonetheless.

It’s OK to be who we are, knowing that we can let ourselves go with other creative types, but I’ve found it’s effective to meet people halfway upon similarities, rather than getting them to come “up” to your level. For me, this is not an easy thing to do; it takes a lot of energy. Sometimes the most open-mindedness you can sneak into a stoic viewer is a nod of acknowledgment; other times, a little consideration in your interactions with a person opens doors and windows in them that they didn’t even know they had.

If you are going to ask for public or private financial charity, take extra care in how you present yourself. While the mystique of the bizarre worked for 20th century artists shaking the centuries-old system of academies, salons and commissioned funding by patrons, we’re now on the threshold of the post-fame era. Luck is running out, being in the right place at the right time is a four dimensional gamble in which the odds are against you a kajillion to 1. Now, anything, happening anyplace and anytime can be self-promoted online, yet needs to be well-presented to get the attention. I’ve noticed that art and fashion blogs (and bloggers, as they choose to reveal their appearance) whose photos/graphics/writing are well-realized, hitting the ideal nail on the head, get the attention, while others slightly less than masterful in those forms — however inspired — fall more or less to the wayside.

Presentation isn’t about marketing — I think that conversation is being phased out, slowly, as laypeople’s web and photography skills increase, and also simply because marketing lacks what is at the core of art: grabbing someone by the lapels out of the Everyday and teleporting them through a psychic pneumatic tube into the hyper-temporal, spiritual Whatever. And not always on an “elevated” or “higher” plane, just a different, and important one. Making them honorary shamans.

Maybe this “etiquette” I speak of is the backlash away from the self-centered focus concerning embrace or rejection, sobered into the austerity of simply being respected.
critique, observations
Post and Re-post
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An extremely bastardized title of The Atlantic’s* “Post and Riposte” section. Oh, well. I’m re-posting this from Tu Scene to here because I feel it’s more in the art-writing vein, which I have guiltily neglected for the past couple of months.

(Don’t worry CAG, I didn’t forget about you either, the title was just too appropriate to resist). Lots of people have been chiming in on PLAY’s Facebook links to articles in the Arizona Daily Star and Tucson Citizen regarding award-winning chef Janos Wilder’s (of Janos and J-Bar fame) new restaurant location alleged to go at the corner of Congress and 5th, that would result in the displacement of Tooley’s, PLAY and Central Arts Gallery. According to the articles, Tooley’s owner Patricia Schwabe was apparently notified by Wilder (or representatives) and cooperative about the “transition.” However artist and PLAY co-founder and artist Jessica Van Woerkom says she was not contacted by any of the parties involved in the business deals or by the media who were writing this article. PLAY works very hard to put on well-publicized and outstandingly-attended events twice a month or so, myself and other artists make a extra cash for selling marchandise there every couple of weeks, their contact info is ridiculously easy to find… why were they not informed?

Ultimately, the issue here is not who screwed up, whether you think it’s the city, developers, property managers/owners, tenants, the Universe, whatever. There’s no point in playing the blame game. Governmental administrations anywhere, no matter how much their city is perceived as being a Utopia, will have instances of gross incompetence, and he who has the most money will rule. Mr. Wilder has occupied space in downtown before, so it seems safe to assume he’s probably actually in favor of the revitalization already happening now, where the little guys have made huge strides without much backing from big bucks. But when there’s 26 empty buildings in 2 square blocks — a plethora of spaces just itching for investment that would not involve displacement of valuable, if low-funded cultural arts businesses — it seems reasonable to expect that the property owner would at least notify the tenants of the move, and the tenants, in return, have a right to ask for some compensation to cover moving expenses in the situation that they are not being evicted upon grounds of non-payment, physical neglect, criminal issues and so on.

Throughout all of this drama is that it’s important to keep in mind why people go downtown. People don’t go there simply just to indulge in gourmet food and then drive back to wherever they came from. They go down there for the culture and the experience. Besides myself, I know and regularly witness many, many, many veritable throngs of people who go to downtown in the evenings to visit the galleries and music clubs first, THEN, if they feel like sticking around, frequent the bars and restaurants that service the area. And without those lower-middle-working-class patrons, yes, Tucson is stuck with a downtown polarized by only the very wealthy and very poor.

Hopefully, this will open a door for PLAY and CAG to occupy new locations with improved facilities and more communicative property owners/managers. It’s also a sad but crucial case showing that artists must know their rights and verify that their business arrangements are 100% legal. Or, I hate to say it, but sometimes beautiful things have to die in order for people to miss them. This, in turn, lights a fire under more creative butts to start their own venues. I remember when this happened in Austin when a couple of popular and critically-acclaimed art gallery/studio hubs had to close. A handful new venues sprung up in their place as a result, and then it spread like wildfire on buffelgrass. True, the art scene was never quite the same after these places shut down, but it turned out to be a catalyst for expansion. Necessity might be proved, again, to be the mother of invention.

Blogger’s Note: While I don’t read it very often, I find the Star in particular sadly lacking in doing basic research on individuals involved in the pieces they write, much less contacting them prior to publishing their articles. I understand in the newspaper industry there are hard-and-fast deadlines and there’s no way for journalists to get everyone’s angle, but like I said, this oversight can be prevented by a short Google search, and clicking on one or two web pages. To be perfectly candid, when compling calendar listings for Tu Scene, I give up if I can’t find any concrete info on the web about an event within Google’s first Search Results page. I’ve pointed this out with the Star before regarding the Winta Fresh Graffiti Competition, and in a recent Star article on February’s IGNITE event presented by Dinnerware, the title of the presentation Julie Ray and I did was not mentioned, despite the fact that there were two paragraphs and quotes from Julie devoted to our presentation about Pop Up Spaces. Plus, although we did our presentation together, I was identified as a “friend” of Julie Ray, when all you have to do is Google “Pop Up Spaces Tucson” (our website comes up #1 in the results) and it’s quite obvious that MAXED ARTista Molly McClintock and myself are co-founders and creative directors of the project. Maybe I’m splitting hairs, but where several hairs are missing, that’s what most observers would call a bald spot (as I’m sure several male readers can sensitively attest to). C’mon editors! This era of the struggling printed newspaper is not the time to let quality control fall by the wayside! Blow off your readers and your publishing company is kaput. I find it ironic that I’ve seen fewer issues with accuracy in the Citizen and yet they’re the enterprise that’s supposed to go down.

*The Atlantic is one of my favorite magazines ever and, as I learned reading back issues at my parents’ house over an excruciatingly long Christmas break (no money to go anywhere), re-designed (or at least directed by) with, according to his introductory letter, much respect of its illustrious history by none other than Graphic Design God Michael Bierut. I wonder if it’s any k’winky-dink that The Atlantic’s new/vintage masthead is highly similar to the banner at Karl Lagerfeld’s Guide to Life (or vice versa). ‘Cuz that’s the level Bierut’s on with us design nerds.
critique, culture, observations, oracles, style
Velvet Rebellion
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Prologue

1. Sametová Revoluce. The Velvet Revolution (Czech: sametová revoluce) (November 16- December 29, 1989) refers to a non-violent revolution in Czechoslovakia that saw the overthrow of the Communist government. On November 17, 1989, riot police suppressed a peaceful student demonstration in Prague. That event sparked a series of popular demonstrations from November 19 to late December. By November 20 the number of peaceful protesters assembled in Prague had swelled from 200,000 the previous day to an estimated half-million. A two-hour general strike, involving all citizens of Czechoslovakia, was held on November 27.

2. Tucson, Arizona. We drove past a couple wearing 6″ black platform boots, some sort of zippered pants-like skirt or skirt-like pants, black trenchcoats, flowing black tresses and inked-out eyes, lurching to the bus stop or corner store in the blazing summer sun. The sidewalk was otherwise desolate and treeless: a mundane concrete desert. It didn’t matter which one was male or female. I asked my husband, “What’s up with all the goth-y people here?”

I.
A Big-small City

Tucson is a mid-size city, not affluent. A little too big and not “cultured” enough to be called a college town. Like any other big-small American city, I would imagine artistically-inclined kids growing up here feel trapped in an unsophisticated society. Goth, a lifestyle that elevates music, art and fashion, offers a mode of connection with a larger artistic/cultural movement. And, one hopes, a sense of belonging. A sense of understanding and validation.

II.
Social Posturing

Trends are self-perpetuating. We are social creatures, even the goths who appear to wallow in misery and loneliness. Here, they are seen as the “cool,” artistic people, much like hipsters are in Austin. This starts in the adolescent years: say there’s a 6th or 7th grade kid who’s discovering he or she doesn’t fit in. Then, after summer, they come back to school all blacked-out and with a new, stronger sense of self. This happens every day in Austin, except the changelings are about 5-10 years older: young people arrive from across the country wearing American Apparel t-shirts and All-Stars; three months later they’ve latched on to giant sunglasses and neon.

In all trends/styles/communities, there is room for creativity and distinctions within the group, when you are part of it. But from an outsider’s perspective, everyone looks the same, the music sounds the same. I wonder if an outsider wrote this post on the Austin craigslist missed connections awhile back (paraphrased from memory):

m4w (Beauty Bar): You looked so hot in your skinny jeans, vintage shirt, pointy shoes and unusual haircut.

The description was lengthier and a bit more elaborate, but the tone was just as cutting. In Tucson, go to the craigslist musician category. Everyone wants to start a death metal/grindcore/punk band. To me, it all sounds the same. But then again, I can point out the subtleties between German trance and nu acid house, and why one is boring and the other is cool. For example, today I found a remix of Mondotek’s Alive (related to the TEPR remix of Yelle’s “A Cause des Garçons”) on an mp3 blog that primarily posted the type of *yawn* house played after 12am in Top 40 clubs.

The point is, here in Tucson, goth is a mainstream alternative lifestyle, like hipsterism is in Austin. For further analysis on this subject, I suggest Josh Aiello and Matthew Shultz’s brilliant A Field Guide To The Urban Hipster. It’s a bit dated (2003), certain groups have evolved, but it begs the question “How weird do you wanna be?” Are suburban soccer moms the Truly Weird? Are Nascar dads the Truly Weird? Are white male capitalist entreprenurs the Truly Weird? What about factory workers? How do they see themselves as a group? How do they see us? Today, the true artist (my definition: dedicated, driven, underground) no longer labors away in a decrepit urban warehouse or in the rustic elegance of a country barn, (s)he works out of his garage in a tract housing development or out of a corner of their living room in a nondescript apartment complex. Maybe the quality of their work isn’t that great, but that depends on what your definition of “good” and “quality” are.

III.
The Twilight Zone

I wish more research would be done on why, particularly in Mexican-American border regions, goth is the mainstream alternative, when in many other areas of the U.S., it died at the turn of the 21st century along with candy ravers. A few months ago, I watched a documentary about Latino hardcore Morrissey fans in the Los Angeles area called Is It Really So Strange? What could’ve been a great story shed little light on the reasons behind the obsession from this unexpected demographic because the narrator/producer was, like, the whitest, dryest most monotone guy. Ever. He just couldn’t connect with the people he was interviewing and not so much because he was not a part of their culture, but because he was just a walking social disaster. Naturally, his interview subjects were reticent about their fandom, which made for a total disappointment of a film.

I’ve asked my goth-leaning brother- and cousin-in-law about why they’re all into vampires and ornate silver crosses and black clothes. They grin and say, “I’m just in touch with the (or did they say my?)… Dark Side.” I’ve prodded further on one or two occasions: why? What’s so cool about the dark side? “Life is dark and pointless,” they intone. Nihlism. Emptiness. A daily drudgery between the next party or fuck, and even suffering and pain is a part of those experiences as you commiserate with your goth-y buddies.

But why Mexican-Americans? Is it a rebellion against the Old School ways of their families and elders? Is it a depressive facet of the ultra-complex experience of being bi-cultural (e.g. the Sad Clown)? Or, is it a rebellion against others of their own generation: the urban gangsters or the straight-edge traditional kids?

My husband and I say after we get south of San Antonio on IH-37 that we are entering The Twilight Zone. It’s a gradient that runs all the way to The Valley, growing stronger when we veer onto Hwy. 77 in Robstown, on through Raymondville and Harlingen, and finally coming to a delta in his family’s home of Brownsville, at the southernmost tip of Texas, the Mexican border; nothing beyond it but the mouth of the Rio Grande, endless flatlands, coastal marshes, and then the open Gulf. Everything “American” is tinged with Mexican culture and perspective. The clerks working in the chain stores in Sunrise Mall (warning: don’t go the the homepage, some really blaring Broadway-style music turns on) give you your total in Spanish before switching to English. The hot food focus in convenience stores is tacos and tamales, not hot dogs and fried chicken. And everything Mexican is infused with the crass commercialism of American society, creating a veneer of quaintness over the commercialism, or the crushing thumb of consumerism blunting what is unique and traditional.

IV.
Drug of Choice

César posed the goth question to his Tucson host when he came out to take a look around prior to our move. His tour guide said, “It’s because there’s a lot of meth around here.”

Let’s think about this. I’ve seen plenty of bleary-eyed redneck meth heads driving beat-up old pick-up trucks back in Texas, particularly in impoverished rural Colorado County where my mom commutes to teach middle school. The town’s water tower proclaims it’s “The White-Tailed Deer Capital of Texas” (read: hunting). My dad jokes that it should really say, “The White Trash Capital of Texas.”

So what does a style of dress have to do with a drug of choice? Not all hippies are potheads; not all potheads are hippies. Not all hipsters are cokeheads; not all cokeheads are hipsters. Not all crackwhores are urban; not urban females are crackwhores. Etc., etc.

Drugs are most certainly not a reason.

V.
Relative to… What?

This has inadvertently gone from a cultural sketch and self-analysis of my mild annoyance with goths. I personally thought they were more silly than anything else, like on Chris Kattan and Molly Shannon’s sketch “Goth Talk” on Saturday Night Live in the 1990’s.

A few weeks ago, I went to a dance party night at one of the cooler bars here in hopes of hearing something comforting, something familiar, something that reminded me of home: hipster blog music. But many people used it as an excuse to showcase their full-on fetishwear (and I use the term “on” loosely). I could barely stop staring as a girl in a light pink bikini top, matching hot pants, feather boa and Christmas pageant angel wings danced by herself till her friends got there: a dude sporting a kilt and mohawk and his girlfriend, fully stockinged and corseted. And they were, shall we say, not attractive in a conventional sense that would’ve made this display, um, nice to look at.

Now I find myself questioning my own style in clothes, taste in music, art and home décor, diction, inflection and body language as an outsider to the mainstream alternative lifestyle here. I wonder, what to non-hipsters think of hipsters in Austin? Do they look at our equally outlandish 80’s outfits with the same mild annoyance? The wrinkled nose? The curled lip?

One of the reasons I was not too keen on moving away from Austin was that I felt I’d found my place there. A place where many a nerdy, artsy, goofy-looking middle school pariahs could find community, a sense of belonging. A place to love and be loved. Maybe I would’ve grown tired of belonging eventually. “Once a rebel…” Or perhaps it was too late; I was sucked in. On the other hand, my husband had been rebelling against what he considers to be an oppressive atmosphere for a number of years, and I think his reasoning is the catalyst: our generation is not rebelling against the older generation like our parents did when they were young. That tie has already been broken. Our rebellion is against one another, our peers; but it is a Velvet Rebellion, an oxymoron. “Rebellion” implies hostility, anger, violence. Yet we do it through our clothes. It is soft, expressive, joyful – Velvet. Why? Are our differences with each other so negligible that they’re not worth fighting for? Have we grown so distant that we don’t know any other way to communicate? Do we not know how to fight? Are we afraid? Are we too selfish to abandon the system we are products of?

Epilogue

A newish writer-friend mused over drinks the other night, “I wonder when people are just going to rise up and say, ‘Fuck the system.’ ” I wondered to myself what he meant by “people.”
critique
Testing the waters
1 Comment

The First Friday event went OK for me. I put out a sheet-covered easel with a couple of my paintings, set out my $1 postcards and created an interactive environment where I’d draw people’s characteratures. No, not the kind with the big heads, but more illustrative and funky style (especially the work of Dennis Eriksson and Anne-Li Karlsson). I even set out different kinds of sunglasses so people would feel less awkward and get into the spirit. But by the time people were buzzed enough to do this, it was 11:30 and I was ready to pack up and not be annoyed by drunks after sitting there for two hours. Although I did make three whole dollars in postcard sales, had my palm read with astonishing accuracy by a gypsy and a nice chat with a lady who turned out to be the Tucson Museum of Art’s Curator of Latin American Art (their Mexican Photographers Today exhibition was excellent, by the way – remember the Oaxacan teacher’s strike?).

Most of the crowd seemed to be youngish engineers from Raytheon (the Dell of Tucson) and girls who liked youngish engineers from Raytheon. Not exactly the art-loving crowd. One gentleman came up to ask me if I’d painted each postcard individually (!). I must say, that’s been one of the oddest questions I’ve ever recieved. I explained to him that I took photos of my paintings and printed them as postcards at the printing company I work for. I related this to the curator. She says she has very kind, well-educated and experienced volunteers at the museum, retirees from the Midwest and the East Coast, but they have little knowledge of photography, for example, beyond the family snapshot.

After the show, I told my husband (whose support and labor are invaluable) that the ratio of people I got beyond “Hi, how’s it going?” was actually about the same as the hundreds of people who’ve come through my studio during the East Austin Studio Tour (an audience actually seeking out artists’ studios) over the last three years: you have something resembling an awkward conversation with 10% of the people, 2% buy a postcard, and 0.5% you actually connect with.

I’ve come to the conclusion that, yes, part of it is me. I don’t know how to talk to people. At the First Friday event, after awhile, I got fed up and started pulling people’s legs a bit. Late in the show, a young man came up and babbled something unintelligible about my characteratures. I replied, angling towards my paper and markers, “Sure, would you like me to draw you?” He backed off, shook his head, waved his hands, “Oh, no! I’m not at all photogenic.” I said, smiling, knowing I’d already lost, “Well, you might be drawing-genic, you never know!” He continued walking backwards, shaking his head. In Studio Q at Pump Project, among the six artists in our space, we left the talking to Matt and Alicia – the cutest and most talkative of the group. It definitely helped people linger in us introverts’ areas a bit more, and likewise loosened us up.

But the other part of it I’ve experienced firsthand as a visitor to other people’s studios. It’s just so intimate, that (for me) unless you really know someone’s work and perhaps have some acquaintances in common, it’s difficult to come up with any intelligent questions or comments. And if you’ve had a few glasses of crappy wine on an empty stomach, holding out that there’d be something to nosh on at said open studio, you may think you’ve a breakthrough, and so you spout it out. When really you’re just “that drunk chick/dude.”

Now this is all completely personal: I’m not a very good off-the-cuff conversationalist. I’m still working at connecting with the engineers and accountants of the world, because I depend on them (and they depend on me), in a way. And I know the more exposure I have, the more comfortable I’ll be. But the other realization I came away with was that you have to beat these people over the head with art until they are comfortable examining it, and taking the next step and engaging the artist in conversation. I don’t know how that happens except through repetition and doing a lot of really cool-looking performance type shit with traditional media (no one wants to buy Pump Project a Flickr! pro membership, so the Vision Riot pics aren’t up right now) that people find palatable as art, in a fairly decent venue with food and beverages flowing. I still think the Austin Art Garage has hit the nail on the head with this crowd, and their numerous sales and the number of people who come out to their events prove it.

P.S. Liz, the artistic organizer of First Fridays, is awesome and very nice. I do hope to work with her again – and First Fridays – to continue solving this artist/public problem of “If one train leaves Chicago at 2 p.m. going 59 m.p.h. and another train leaves St. Louis at 2:15 p.m. going 61 m.p.h., what time will they meet in Nashville?”

P.P.S. Although I write from a different experience and education, may I attach this, with all due humility and respect, to the discussions going on back home about “public” and “longevity”? (very important that the truly curious – read the comments in these two links and my initial news posting below).

First Fridays
Presented by Tucson Young Professionals
Friday, September 5
9pm-1am
Tucson Museum of Art

So. I’ll be participating in my first art event in Tucson on September 5 (thank you, craigslist!). The First Friday events sound like a cross between the Austin Art Garage and the Blanton’s B Scene. On the surface, it’s just something interesting to do for professional Tusconans (say it with me: “tu-soh-nans”) in their 20’s and 30’s besides go to the movies. But the thought process behind all is to keep young, educated workers in this city through producing an entertaining event with networking opportunities, and awakens them to a responsibility to invest in local arts and culture, and thus improves the local economy by their staying. Because it seems like a lot of people come here, work for a couple of years and then move on to a bigger and better job market.

Anyways, I’ll have a space/booth/mini-environment outside the Tucson Museum of Art with some of my paintings displayed, postcards for sale, and drawing people in the crowd as 80’s cartoon characters. The nice thing is that it’s free for me to participate as an artist. No booth fees, no membership dues, nada. That was the main reason I didn’t participate as an artist in Art City Austin, although I had a special invitation to bypass the jury and automatically be in of the festival, it still would’ve cost me about $1000 for the rental fee and to purchase a tent. (I did volunteer during the last shift on the last day, and one of my jobs was to pick up the feedback surveys from the artists. Man, I have never seen so many pissed-off people in all my life.) Business, social/cultural responsibility, art, booze and music. That’s my kind of party.
advertising, critique, culture, oracles, style
Vogueing Out
Comment?

A couple of things caught my eye as I cracked open the March 2008 issue of VOGUE yesterday.

1) Is high fashion trying to angle itself with high art? Art has been what I would call “street hip” for a couple of years now, but for me, the deer heads, power lines and raindrops are all blurring together. D&G, Prada and Nordstrom ads (and that’s just in the first 20 pages) showed models posed in completely painted scenes or art studios, taking a more high art direction. The merit of the art itself isn’t the issue and a critical person could say it’s insipid to hijack art to sell clothes, but it seems to me that the message is that art is still elevated above the clothes. Art is absolute, fashion is mutable, both are visual cousins and the weaker, more changeable entity aligning itself with the stronger can only serve to build its brand. If you see fashion as fantasy, these ads could be a prediction of our fantasies to come. While 99% of people probably won’t wear anything from a runway in their lifetime, the culture of fashion can serve as a compass to where larger popular culture might go.

On a side note, it’s always interesting to me how fashion ads rely almost exclusively on photography, and what little effort is made towards incorporating graphic design is often badly handled. I usually don’t care for the photography in Marc Jacobs ads, it is one of the exceptions where the design is well-executed and not overbearing. And I don’t think there should be more graphic design in fashion branding necessarily, when you have outstanding photography, a picture is indeed worth a thousand words, it’s just interesting to not to see it used more often, especially with younger designers up against the grand old fashion houses.

2) Older celebrities trying to look 19, growing old very un-gracefully. Highly disturbing.
critique, logos, oracles
Sweet vs Shameful: Art Logos
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The Diva’s kickin’ it old school, going back to my pithy early days of blogging focused on graphic design critique.

Women & Their Work

I heard about an opening at Women & Their Work tonight and went to their website for more information. The show, featuring terrifying yet cute fabric sculptures by Katy Heinlein, looked very interesting. “I’m so there!” I thought. Suddenly my eyes shot up to the bright yellow sun at the top of the webpage. “What is that – ah! A new logo!” And a good one, but I’ll get to that later. The old one never bothered me that much. In fact, I respected W&TW for choosing to stick with the campy, geometric face after all these years. It seemed to be one of the few identities I’d seen still in use incorporating everything that was good/bad about 80’s design. But the new one I like a lot too. For one, it’s much simpler. Zeroing in on the “W” not only gives eyes an strong, fun shape to linger on, it also helps to shorten the idea of the long-sounding name “Women & Their Work.” The yellow is also a bold choice, continuing the unique, standout impression their previous logo put forth. And this is exactly what a good logo does: it not only makes a visual statement, it connotes what the entity behind it does. Now, if they could just make their website cleaner, easier to navigate and not Flash-based!

Art Alliance Austin

I’ve been holding my tongue on it ever since I saw it unveiled last year, but I can’t think of a more apt opportunity to critique the Art Alliance Austin logo. It’s a lower-case “a” with the counter filled in, in “baby-puke green” (not my coinage, a real estate client once let that one loose on me about a logo I designed for him). While I don’t think it necessarily has to relay anything about Austin, art, or some kind of alliance, it should be at least interesting to look at. I’m well-aware the Pump Project logo I designed doesn’t convey anything about a pump or a project, but there’s at least some depth to it, and I constantly get complimented on it. The Art Alliance logo is a tragic fashion victim of the pseudo-cosmpolitan trendiness inherent in everything from the condos to ritzy franchises overtaking downtown. Who knows which way the market will go with these lofts in 5 years? The same goes for this logo – leaf green may be a hot color now (actually, I forsee color trends brightening to primary red, yellow, and blue, none this washed-out pansy brown, blue and green crap we’ve been seeing the last 3-4 years). It’s very flat in both appearance and concept. And when all one has to go on is appearances, all I have to say to that is, “Looks fade, honey.”