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culture, digital, graphic design
DON’T FREAK OUT
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Sorry for the vulgarity — this is inspired by this Conan O’Brien version of the “Keep Calm and Carry On” poster my cousin posted on Facebook earlier this afternoon.

#1) Sometimes I feel like I’m the only white person who’s annoyed by the ubiquitous adage. I mean, seriously? Would you truly do that in a crisis just because a poster told you to?
#2) I don’t have a TV and never watched nighttime talk shows anyways so the controversy regarding network scheduling and humor rhetoric that has all social media abuzz is more interesting to me than which host said what. It’s not so much the hosts who are irritating as it is the fact that that the overall man-in-suit-behind-a-bigass-desk-with-a-coffee-mug late night talk show format is ridiculously outdated.
#3) I do think that “Work Hard and Be Nice” is good advice, although don’t forget about the part that goes something like “As Long As You’re Raking In Millions.”

This one’s more serious. It’s a phrase I’ve had stuck in my head since yesterday, more along the lines of one of my art idols, Barbara Kruger. Particularly her piece “Cram Life Into Death,” which I have in a book but can’t seem to find on the internet. I was also trying to think of what was the opposite of a crown. A dunce’s cap? A jester’s hat? An executioner’s mask? The point of a stiletto heel? A combat boot? Ah, yes. A weird, mocking, mask-like smiley face that looks not unlike the monster in Miyizaki’s Spirited Away. What does “DON’T do” really mean? Verbally? In a public service poster?
culture, life, observations
Equations
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I just had my first ever television interview on the local PBS station’s news magazine, Arizona Illustrated. I was really nervous because although I love to talk about art, I tend to clam up when put on the spot, particularly when questioned by “authority” (art institutional types, administrators, posh curators or artists, academics, media), so I rehearsed some thoughts as I walked my dog yesterday. With exercise, the repetition of movement jogged my thought process as well. I think I finally started making some mental progress comparing/contrasting Austin and Tucson, after over a year of living here in Arizona.

When I mention I’m from Austin to people in Tucson, their eyes bug out and glisten with anticipation, as though I were some prophet who’d seen the Promised Land and returned to deliver a sacred message. THERE IS NO SACRED MESSAGE. I repeat: THERE IS NO SACRED MESSAGE.

Quoting from a particular document from the mid-90’s about a day in the life of a person living in/near downtown Tucson, as projected in 2010:

“It’s 7:00 a.m., January 12, 2010. The sun is beginning to rise overhead; and as you step outside, you feel the comfortable, cool breeze of a Tucson winter. You walk the one block from your home to catch the shuttle, which arrives just a few minutes later at the City’s intermodal transportation center, the old Amtrak Station.

Strolling across the plaza, you glance at the kiosk and see that there’s a new show opening at the Temple of Music and Art. You’ve already made plans for dinner at Cafe Magritte, if it’s not too busy, and then you are going to catch a live jazz show down the street. Maybe Tuesday you’ll see the new show at the Temple.

As you weave your way through the outdoor dining area at Hotel Congress, you step up to the take-out window and wonder if you’ll get everything done today. Another busy Saturday. Normally, you’d sit outside at a table for breakfast, but today you grab coffee and a muffin to go, and begin your walk down Congress, past dozens of stores teeming with local and regional goods. A new gallery catches your eye and then the bookstore next door which has recently doubled its size. Didn’t it just open a year ago?

You walk past the main library, stopping to grab two loaves of French bread from a cart vendor. They have bread at the Farmer’s Market, too, but you’re not sure you’ll have time to get there today. As you walk under what used to be the old Pima County Courthouse and is now part of the Museum of Art…”

“It’s 7:00 a.m., January 12, 2010. The sun is beginning to rise overhead; and as you step outside, you feel the comfortable, cool breeze of a Tucson winter. You walk the one block from your home to catch the shuttle, which arrives just a few minutes later at the City’s intermodal transportation center, the old Amtrak Station. Strolling across the plaza, you glance at the kiosk and see that there’s a new show opening at the Temple of Music and Art. You’ve already made plans for dinner at Cafe Magritte, if it’s not too busy, and then you are going to catch a live jazz show down the street. Maybe Tuesday you’ll see the new show at the Temple. As you weave your way through the outdoor dining area at Hotel Congress, you step up to the take-out window and wonder if you’ll get everything done today. Another busy Saturday. Normally, you’d sit outside at a table for breakfast, but today you grab coffee and a muffin to go, and begin your walk down Congress, past dozens of stores teeming with local and regional goods. A new gallery catches your eye and then the bookstore next door which has recently doubled its size. Didn’t it just open a year ago? You walk past the main library, stopping to grab two loaves of French bread from a cart vendor. They have bread at the Farmer’s Market, too, but you’re not sure you’ll have time to get there today. As you walk under what used to be the old Pima County Courthouse and is now part of the Museum of Art…”

I came across this text as I was researching raw material the Field Guide to Downtown Tucson Master Plans booklet and Pop Up Spaces’ ±92 exhibition. In my experience with gentrification in Austin (Tucson is sooo not even close to using “gentrification” as a bummer-buzzword in polite conversation), what struck me was how much this lifestyle was crammed down the throat. But it’s not for everyone. It’s not inclusive. Yet people see this ideal as the big success story of Austin as a 21st-century national cultural center. What outsiders don’t realize and what many Austinties take for granted is that Austin was a segregated city for generations. African-Americans and Mexican-Americans resided and maintained business communities within separate pieces/peaces of the city (East Austin, Clarksville, South First/Cumberland a.k.a. at Casa Diaz as Cumbialand, et. al.), in some areas for over 100 years. What people think of as “downtown” Austin (not central Austin at large) has been/is largely influenced architecturally, spatially, culturally by Anglos. It is homogenous. Tearing away all the highbrow festoons, it’s still leisure centered around the gut and the eye. What is this person doing? Consuming.

What I have learned as a part of coordinating ±92 is that downtown = history = identity.

Tucson’s identity, history, and landscape is much different than Austin’s: Mexicans, Native Americans, and Anglos. The desert and mountain landscape is an identity, an entity, in itself. It’s all in yo’ face. And yet it’s not (just drive to South Tucson and you’ll see chain-linked fenced, concrete lion-adorned barrios similar to my in-laws’ y tios’ y tias’ neighborhood just off the farthest reaches of Southmost Blvd. in Brownsville, TX, el Rio and that abominable wall less than a mile away [slicing through orange groves and reedy marshes buzzing with grasshopers, locusts, crickets {you cannot cut Twilight}], then traveling a few miles Highway 77, up to north Brownsville, up to the primos’ y primas’ garage-enclosed suburbs, it’s all the same here, as if you mixed the Valley and San Anto, minus the Gulf-breeze green).

The master planning exhibition I helped facilitate is not about how sad it was that buildings and roads were not built, because identity is at the heart of it all. People constantly argue over what downtown Tucson should and should not represent. The truth is, there is something there for everyone. There are services for the people that need them: homeless, Veterans, Native Americans (Indian Affairs), Mexican Nationals (Mexican Consulate). There is fine dining. There are bars for bros, bars for hos and bars for hipsters. There are coffeeshops and casual dining and sushi and sandwiches and Sonoran hot dog stands. There are theatre, film, art, music shows. There are places for children and families. There are places that celebrate the outdoors. There are houses of religion, there are suppliers for the spiritual, pagans, wiccans, curanderos. There are spots for people who drive; there are lanes for people who cycle. People can work in banks, government administration, convenience stores, food service, clothing boutiques, schools, upholstery shops, arts, social services, car repair, real estate, bicycle sales, furniture and appliance stores. There are fancy-schmansy condos, there are single-family homes, there are residences affordable for students and artists, there are barrios, there are alleys.

This day-in-the-life-of story took up 3 single-spaced pages. It reflects the identity of a 60-year-old retired U of A professor. It reflects the identity of one demographic. And really, a lot of positivity is crammed down the throat in the name of cultural understanding, political correctness, mental safety. That’s not fair either. But it seems that people don’t like about downtown Tucson is not about the space, it is about the people using it. If you have a gripe with the cultural/business/service/food offerings and architecture downtown, you might need to dig deeper into your prejudices about history, skin color, family, age and financial status.

There is something for everyone in downtown Tucson. And it is beautiful.
culture, oracles
The Alchemy of Art
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For the last few months, I have been thinking about the Artist as Shaman: a person who acts an intermediary between the People and God [via]. An oracle who can shed insight into the future, albeit not in the most direct forms of communication. Not to sound pompous or anything, but that is always how I’ve truly felt ever since I was a wee tot drawing figures on Big Chief tablets my mom bought for me at Winn’s 5-10. The drawings weren’t coming from me, they were coming through me. I, quite simply, felt compelled to observe, to experience my surroundings and thoughts, and sketch. I remember drawing several times about age 6-7, a boat in the middle of an ocean at night, a man in a raincoat seated on a tropical island in a rainstorm. Many other adult artists who say they’ve been drawing from a young age seem to have felt as a child, and continue to feel, the same way about why they do what they do. A recent example that comes to mind is Edgar Huerta, who told me he found his muse many years ago in an figure called Apolonia, an image he keeps returning to in various forms. I also think of designer Marc English in Austin, who approaches graphic design as an artist might, as in intermediary communicating messages between the awesome clients he happens to get and the public. Heck, his email is shaman[at]marcenglishdesign[dot]com.

So when I came across this listing on the Tucson craigslist, I felt I finally had a good scenario in which to apply/learn from this spiritual viewpoint. A 21st century Christian, in their words, “village” promoting the same aesthetic-spiritual process/envorinment, i.e. liturgy, as the post-Reformation Catholic Church, as the medieval Church, as the Eastern Orthodox church, as the Muslims (I have to say I am infatuated with Eastern Orthodox and Islamic art), as pretty much all indigenous peoples of the Americas (as I am fast learning from living in modern Arizona/Mexico), as the Hindus and Buddhists… as religions all over the world have done since the beginning of documented art, to provide the viewers/followers with a connection to the God of our understanding.

However, as much as it is about intermediation, art is also a way for people to connect with power structures: institutions, authorities, spiritual, political, economic. Connecting with subversion as much as preservation. Although irony has been the name of the game in, at least, American art for the few decades, we keep insisting of late that “sincerity is the new sincerity.” But I’ve never equated sincerity with seriousness. I don’t think I’m a “serious” artist, I suppose because I equate “seriousness” with “discipline.” I suppose the only thing about art I’m disciplined at is that I keep at it, although my subject and style always changes. In defense, I say variety can be sincere. Humor can be sincere. My craw is full up to here with insincere seriousness, consistency, irony.

I think we are in a state of flux right now, between fully feeling the effects of/understanding/interpreting/reacting to the power structures of the past and forecasting the future. In a state of flux, you can either progress, i.e. shed the past while learning from its mistakes, or decline, i.e. implosion under its own weight a la the Roman Empire. I believe artists (visual, movement, literary, verbal, sonic) must accept our archetypal status as oracles and shamans in order to usher in the progression of culture, society and its power structures. For to progress is to change, in order to preserve, to survive.
culture, digital, graphic design, oracles
Passing the Buck
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Downloaded clip art from Microsoft Office.

I feel the world financial depression (which started in the U.S.) was caused by an ethical crisis more than anything else. We all say it at work: “not my problem.” But imagine millions of people saying it, over and over. And if everyone’s saying it, eventually it’s going to be everyone’s problem. The optimistic feel of clip art covers up the real complacency and haste of working in the. It’s not that people are inept or wasteful or ridiculous as portrayed on the TV show, The Office. Example: I worked as an in-house designer at a title company during the Exuberance, and the mortgage/loan officers were constantly pressuring the escrow officers and assistants to closethedeal, closethedeal, closethedeal, as fast as possible. And in truth, the problem wasn’t theirs, at the time. Now I work for a printing company, and it’s much more black and white. You either get the job done on time, or you don’t. Eventually I’d like to turn this into a massive piece, several feet wide/tall.
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.”
advertising, critique, culture, oracles, style
Vogueing Out
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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, culture, oracles
Corporate Art takes on a new form
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I packed in with scores of my closest fellow hipster doofi at the opening of the Scion Installation 4: It’s A Beautiful World at Gallery Lombardi on Saturday. The whole event rubbed me horribly wrong (not the gallery’s fault).

1. Why have an opening in an 18′ x 30′ gallery where hundreds of people are expected to come out? Surely Scion has enough money to rent or create a venue that will accommodate an crowd that size. It was the main reason I left after 15 minutes. It wasn’t quaint or charming, as can sometimes happen when a certain magic in the air brings a lot of people to a show. It was a logistical nightmare.

2. The message wasn’t “Hey, Scion is sponsoring this show to help inspire the community that art is an important part of our culture.” It was, “Hey, Scion just wants to affirm that you are indeed hip and cool by coming to this event, and giving away lots of logoed schwag telling you that our cars will make you look hip and cool.”

3. The illustration/graphic design/assemblages I could kinda make out over all the nappy heads was not that impressive.

4 . Most of all, it bothered me that Scion was using art as “experience marketing,” but that seems to be the way things are going. I heard somewhere that in the 21st century economy in America will not be the leader in manufacturing goods or even providing services, instead we will lead the globe in designing experiences. That is, creating a comfort world of smoke and mirrors for the individual. As a result, the trend will continue grow for art (creating art, going to an opening, even collecting) to be a po-mo unbalancing act that affirms a sense of self and massages the ego. The problem I have is that it’s detrimental to one’s culture when those choices are presented (and thus controlled) by large corporations. I think we may even see the definition of art get narrower and narrower again. Although I don’t suppose it’s any different from the Post-Renaissance Venetians. The Church and the aristocracy had the market cornered on artistic freedom since they both had a societal agenda to perpetuate, and it seemed to keep everyone in their place for a good long time.
critique, culture, ideas, observations, paintings
Beauty vs Decoration
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Revisiting the bird silhouette that was a major element in my 2004 paintings has made me realize how much my experiences over the past 3-4 years have changed my approach to making art. When I first started using the bird silhouette, it was basically a copy of some hipster pop art I saw on Gallery Lombardi’s website. I say the bird was an “element” or an “image” rather than a “theme” because theme would imply there was some kind of meaning behind it. There wasn’t.

The same goes for a lot of hipster pop art. Art, for this sort, means a cool design with a lot of well-executed elements, but no theme or underlying idea. Which is why I really dug AMOA’s recent exhibit EXTRA-ORDINARY: The Everyday Object in American Art. The docent who gave the tour I went on admitted that a few of the pieces in the show didn’t really have a particular message, their purpose was more about the quintessential postmodern experience: to throw more questions back in the face of the viewer, to unsettle one’s perspective. Was it art or design… or neither? There was something deeply satisfying about hearing this question actually being acknowledged to the public by an art institution.

This question arose again as I re-worked my bird paintings. It was the first time I had fun painting in quite some time. The graphic designer part of my mind took over and went into cruise mode – the side that can easily make very simple things look interesting. Not that I don’t enjoy doing “real” paintings, instead the thought process at work there is a meditation on the execution of the piece.

Since most of my work over the past couple of years grown more in that direction, I embarked on the new-old bird paintings as a lab experiment in beauty vs decoration. Decoration makes people happy. Beauty makes them think. Decoration is cute, superficial. Beauty can appear ugly or pleasing, the beauty itself is in underlying (in the process, the meaning, the mystery).

I don’t think average people want to buy or learn or educate themselves about beautiful things these days. I’ve tried to see how/why one can call something art, and what goes into the making of it. I don’t think the bird paintings are art. They are design, they are decoration. Maybe there’s a little meaning – the bird is such an archetypal metaphor – but not too much. Just enough to make people feel elevated a little without dealing with the guilt of a message or solving a mystery. Art Lite.

On this note, I’m also conducting a marketing experiment during E.A.S.T. I’m not displaying any of my “real” work, only the Art Lite bird paintings. I get a lot of positive feedback about my plates and fabric paintings, whether to my face or whether I mill about my work at a show as a fly on the wall. But I get the impression that people don’t know what to make of it (I’m well-aware that I need to improve my presentation – I think that would help). If these decorative pieces prove to be more popular, I want to see that dynamic in action. Who knows, I might even sell one to a total stranger.

Then I’ll go back to painting on pillowcases.