A couple of events happening around Tucson this weekend got me to thinking about the dimensions of cities and art.

• Mercury Portal at Monterey Court
• The Boneyard Project at Pima Air & Space Museum

***
For me, smaller cities, towns and rural areas, by providing more space, physically, mentally and alternative uses thereof of all of the above, allow for/force interesting art to happen.  I notice big cities, while full of perfectly lovely people, tend to get hung up on trendiness. Allow me to disparage Austin for a sec: let’s see, what do we have going on art-wise this week? A couple of printmaking (silkscreen, to be specific) shows, an zine release party on the street art tip; on the highbrow side, some lectures at the University, a commercial gallery show with a tome of a press release, and an installation-performance about the end of the world at an old house.

The installation-performance and apocalyptic theme have been “trending” over the course of the last year or so (but thinking back to those paintings I saw at arthouse in ’06/’07 or thereabouts — can’t find the info online). I think this is because one’s understanding of space in the city is so rigidly compartmentalized: exit ramp, median, lamppost, sidewalk, yard, office park, cool neighborhood, ghetto neighborhood, rich part of town. The destructive nature of this type of art satisfies the urge to break out of this utilitarian framework, to wrenchingly twist it past recognition in order to self-consciously surprise. While this is healthy and interesting and wonderful, it seems to me a bit like unrequited love. The cement does not give back, it merely reflects.

Lacking these utilities and dedicated facilities, smaller cities and rural areas allow artistically-minded inhabitants to make their mark on the environment — and for it to make its impact felt in reciprocation. I’m not talking about some sort of hippie utopia, just the everyday-ness of living in a place where everything is subtracted. There is a perception that things must happen in order for a place to be happening. What would happen if something didn’t happen?

***
As I’ve gotten older, my art has turned outward towards experiencing my environment, away from the introspection of growing up, something probably everyone goes through. I feel obligated a to make a detailed drawing of my next-door neighbor’s plastic-encased vegetable garden.

My dream is to be crank in the country, not a cog in a city.

Flex-Space at Pump Project’s Satellite Studios presents

New & Recent Works by Rachelle Díaz and Gerardo Arellano
Reception: 8pm-10pm, Friday, October 7 – one weekend only show!

Open Gallery Hours: 12-5pm, Saturday, October 8
1109 Shady Ln., Austin, Texas 78721

Two friends, one long overdue show. I have about an equal amount of wonderful art buddies I’ve met both through random interwebbing and slightly tipsy chattin’ at shows. But the internet folks stand out more so because they’ve put out the extra effort to find people in their locality via good ol’ fashioned sober Google/craigslist/Flickr searches. I first received an email from Gerardo 6-7 years ago, saying something to the effect of:

Hey, I’m a painter. I like your work. I’m new in Austin and looking to meet other painters.

Kind of out of the blue, non? Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was legit, but I liked what I saw on his website. Months passed… I can’t remember when I actually met Gerardo in person, but I believe it was when I invited him to participate in Vision Riot 2, one of my solo forays into curating (credit to Ricardo Acevedo for the concept). Besides, who in the art world can recall the exact moment you met such-and-such person? It all blurs together.

Much like our work as artists blurs together: painting, photography, graphic design, hair/makeup/fashion styling, community outreach. Aesthetically, our work is both influenced by strong design skills, a love of bright colors, a sense of humor, and a certain studiousness about the world — visually, socially, spiritually — and what it all might mean, or not mean at all. Lighthearted and sincere.

Gerardo will be showing paintings from 2006 to present and a site-specific mural. I’ll have a new series of drawings up and will be debuting a self-published/bound zine, “Hippy Fit,” a personal photographic essay reconciling art, fashion and fitness.

To that effect, we plan to have a good time AND donate 20% of art sales to Casa Marinella, a local organization dedicated to assisting immigrant families. Although this is a one-weekend show, it’s not just gonna be another “hey-look-at-me-I’m-an-artist” East Austin kegger. We both genuinely care about helping people in our community, so friends and guests can not only pick up some great art at an affordable price, but also make a donation to those in need.

What is not awesome about that? Our good friend DJ Rocoroyo will be laying down the soundtrack and we’ll have all the usual refreshments at the reception on Friday night (special thanks to J. Haley and Pump Project Satellite), and possibly leftovers during open gallery hours on Saturday. Come celebrate with us.

True to character, I jotted down a few points of interest during the panel discussions that I’ve been assessing, but no significant lessons or questions to add to my mental card catalog, much less post about on here.

Yesterday morning I read a negative [but completely justified] review on Keep Austin Stylish of work recently shown at a fashion event that provided the foil I was looking for:

Does taking a pair of jeans and cutting part of them out and replacing it with neon lace and then creating a “top” by simply taking a yard of tulle and tying it around your boobs really make you a designer? The sad thing is that in Austin it apparently does. I’m sorry to have to be the one to say this but, adorning an outfit does not make you a designer.

Photo credit: http://keepaustinstylish.blogspot.com/

This “bad review” was heartening to read because she had the balls to write it, and because it was the truth. You gotta respect that, and she did go back to compliment the hair and make-up, which was actually eye-catching and well-executed. I haven’t subscribed to this blog over a long period of time (a matter of months, vs. 3-4 years as I have with other fashion blogs) so I am not sure how many other shows have been negatively reviewed on the site, but in general, I rarely come across panned fashion shows or collections. * I will say after barely delving into review-territory on Tu Scene in late ’09/early ’10 that even throwing the teensiest amount of negativity into a commentary is what definitely gets the conversation going.

Another foil: there’s a whole genre of online venues for and by graphic designers to vent about pain-in-the-ass clients/bosses/salespeople and their dismal creative preferences: Sh*t The Creative Director/CEO/Account Guy/Client/Intern Says, Comic Sans Criminal [I'd love to see a site called Papyrus Perp! why won't that font just DIE?!]. And of course, outlets like Design Observer, Design You Trust, PRINT, Voice, etc. offering industry news and formal analysis. And a ton of other stuff I don’t even seek out because it’d probably push me over the edge. I worry enough about designing and executing projects 40 hours a week, thank you very much, and I’m lucky to have sympathetic co-workers there in the trenches with me and a kindhearted husband who actually listens when I need to blow off steam about all of the above.

Why compare to art writing to fashion and graphic design? For one, I read comparatively more about these subjects than I do art, and because they are both creative, subjective cultural topics, unlike, say, computer programming or neuroscience. Not that one can’t write passionately about computer programming and neuroscience, but a slogging through lot of the empirical information to get to the juicy conclusion would probably be rather dry for most people. And also because both forms cull hugely from visual art — contemporary, historic, folk. But there doesn’t seem to be a lot of conversation and second-guessing about pre-reqs in those communities. You’re either with The Establishment [anyone who has a print magazine presence] or you’re a rogue blogger. If anything, blogging has actually helped the fashion machine reach out and grab consumers by the lapels through the web with all kinds of creepy tracking MO’s. The last couple of years have seen the rise of the Superblogger – once fairly regular people who now wield influence* over media and major brands. [On a side note, wouldn't it be cool to see something like IFB for art bloggers? A support network, not so much an information aggregator]. The only pre-reqs I can gather in a general sense for these two sectors are that the writer must have a passion and knowledge about the subject matter. Graphic design bloggers take it one step further, but not a big one: the expectation is that one works in the field, which would require a piece of paper issued by an educational institution. So while it’s true not just anyone can write well about fashion or graphic design, there certainly seem to be less hang-ups in those communities.

When I write on my own site here, I worry about being invalidated because I didn’t go to a prestigious state school with a strong visual art program and don’t aspire to move to NYC or get my MFA [but Marfa, Alpine or heck, even Silver City would be OK]. Maybe because I don’t possess that background I’m more likely to second-guess myself, and it’s just my perception of a snobbish vibe that actually has little to no existence in Austin, because all the kids who went to state schools with fancy art programs seem to be equally doubtful.

So my question is, why are art writers so self-conscious? As Women & Their Work Executive Director Chris Cowden pointed out [via], Texas doesn’t have as many writers as it should considering the amount of work out there. I don’t ask this in a self-congratulatory, “hey, let’s give ourselves some credit” or self-aggrandizing, “hey, let’s not be so hard on ourselves” Oprah-esque self-esteem check. I’m just curious as to why this conversation is happening with visual art and not these other cultural communities I mentioned.

• Is it because there are formal conventions [or perhaps "trends" is a better word] to graphic and fashion design one can delineate and analyze?
• Is it because unlike fashion and graphic design, art is not completely consumer-driven, thus making its value harder to quantify?
• Are we afraid of hurting relationships with readers and other artists in our locale?**
• Is it a self-image problem? Do we have to be the first at everything, bucking trends unless we’re the ones who establish them?

On a side note, personally, when it comes to trends I just try to give myself a break. I dislike a lot of trendy work, but usually only for that reason — because it’s popular, and when something is popular, the quality and technique and be better manipulated to have a market and influence. But ubiquitousness is not a real reason to be so harsh about it, because I’ve come to realize it’s kind of inhumane. 95% of trendy art won’t even matter in a couple of years anyways, and the 5% of artists that do evolve deserve success because they progressed, and I think if one progresses in any endeavor, it’s a show of real dedication. Another quality to respect. So why get so upset about it? Just take a look at Facehunter and you’ll see fashion conventions are flimsy, transparent and easy to puncture as a layer of cellophane. Graphic design styles, on the other hand, shift slowly from decade to decade, with relatively little hand-wringing over the past, present and future.

Probably the most common trait I can chalk this self-consciousness up to is that most artists who can write decently are people who are caught up in thought about how they’re communicating on several levels, which affects what they produce in their visual art, all through to the way they speak and write. I’m not that surprised when I read something by an artist friend that shows they have a real gift for language as well. These are the people who should be encouraged to write, start a blog. To give whatever they think they might be capable of a try. Honestly, the only other group of cultural contributors I hear stressing more about writing than artists are actual writers!

If you’ve made it this far, you might’ve judged I’m probably not cut out to be in the aforesaid artist-writer group. I guess this is more of a stream-of-consciousness journal entry than a critical essay. In fact, as I was writing this, I kept imagining how I’d discuss this through a Margi Kimball-style brainmapping illustration!

Going back to my sparse written notes, I see a couple of other thoughts I’d like to elaborate upon, but not to nearly this extent. Lucky you!

__________________________________________________________________________________

* See Mr. Boyd’s wonderfully comprehensive summary of the Summit for further illustration about cheerleading and much more on his Houston-based art blog, The Great God Pan Is Dead.

** Earlier this week, the dazzling WendyB brought up an important caveat about this perception: Famous ≠ Rich. Still, I would love it if designers sent me free shit and all I needed to do in return was snap a few self-modeling photos and post them on my broke-ass but famous blog!

After a creatively dismal 4th Quarter 2010, 2011 is already off on a highly productive note. I’m really interested in listening to music again, constantly, which as a general pattern with me indicates that sparks are a-flyin’! Scroll down for some recent hair/make-up/photog woodshedding. [inspired by ZE Records' Mutant Disco vol. 1]

My dad’s musical taste in rock from the late 60′s and early 70′s inspired me enormously in my early teens, and still does to this day. So as a Father’s Day tribute, I made him a mix CD — I wanted to make it all prog/proto-prog but it came out as more of a mish-mash of 60′s psych & garage, ranging from pop-ish to prog-ish, also a lot of instrumentals. So here’s to you, Dad: Trimmer of Live Oaks, Player of Accordion, Auditor of Wrongdoing, Baker of Bread, Wielder of Tractor, Walker of Dog, Dissassembler of Houses, Laugher of Everything, Reader of Epistemology, Director of Choir, Student of Accounting, Fan of Spurs, Mechanic of Cars, Eater of Barbecue, Watcher of History Channel, Builder of Fences, Advisor of Finances, Cook of Stew, Master of Woodstove, Visionary, Nerd, and Renaissance Man.

ENJOY

Tracklisting:
I Said, She Said, Ah Cid – The Animated Egg
House of Many Windows – Bobak, Jons, Malone
Playground (instr. out-take) – Deep Purple
If Not This Time – Fifty Foot Hose
Wow – Front Office
Bubble Gum March – Capt. Groovy
Ceyladd Beyta – Ceyleib People
The Beginning – Collectors
12 O’Clock, July – Mussies
Strange Girl – Kate
Red Lady – Phil Cordell
Play your game – The Unfolding
Pretty Girl Why – Buffalo Springfield
When I Arrive – We The People
Strangers From the Sky – Kim Fowler
Pancake Trees – Jefferson Lee
Flim Flam Man 2 – Velvet Seed
Rich Man Poor Man – Rumble
Malaguainia – Alexander Rabbit
Vacuum Cleaner – Nowhere Tintern Abbey
No Silver Bird – The Hooterville Trolley
Alligator Wine – In-Sex
It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry – Bloomfield, Kooper, Stills

Not that I felt I bit off more than I could chew though. This growth was a necessary and long-overdue character-building experience. The past couple of months though, I’ve felt borderline burned-out. Or just in need of a break that lasts longer than a three-day weekend. In need of time to relax with my family (husband and dog), with myself, work on my own artwork outside of group collaborations, re-focus on Tu Scene. The dayjob has been going in high-gear since October, and every time I’ve seen a potential break on the horizon, it eludes me with the infliction of some new task for work. It’s not that I’m not up to the challenge, but I keep finding myself double-booked, overpromising and underdelivering. And while I can take criticism of the results of my work, I hate being the flake in the inception of a project I’ve committed to. That irresponsibility, that unreliability is so not “me.”

In the vein of a break to pursue personal work, I also feel like I need time to get to know people. I’ve been blessed to work with so many talented, brilliant, kind artists on various projects who also just happen to be amazing, fascinating individuals, but feel like I haven’t been able to get to know them as friends so our relationship could continue outside of mutual goals. Part of that is my own choice. Work is a protection mechanism for me. If I keep the relationship mostly professional, I don’t risk the personal entanglements of navigating a friendship. The other part of it is that I sincerely do take a great deal of pleasure in simply realizing a dream, especially one that’s been built with others. (I also wonder, with anyone I’ve worked with, if the feeling is mutual [not reciprocated, but shared/understood]?) But it’s gotten to the point that I’ve almost forgotten how to just be with people, to spend time with them, pursing interests that don’t have to have any accomplishment on the other end, i.e. “hanging out”, “chillin’ “, whatever you want to call it. So my motto for 2010 is “less doing, more living.”

Not that I’ll stop being an overachiever, as I always have been, but realizing that I need to just back off when being tapped for a project. As an early Virgo (born August 28) leaning more towards Leo than Libra, there’s a stuck-up Leo side to my natural community-serving, genuinely concerned Virgo-ness that wants to look good and take credit for things, feeding into the negative self-critical aspects of Virgo if I pass something up. Maybe that’s why I enjoy my Libra family and friends so much, they ground me away from all of that and help find a balance. At least until the point where we start driving each other crazy, like my cousin and I. Childhood best friends all the way through much of our 20′s, born 6 weeks apart, we’d need space when she felt like I was being controlling and harsh, and I felt that she wasn’t sticking up for herself when she had every right and credit to her accomplishments as an individual to do so.

Part of this is also motivated by my husband. Ironically, he’s the one who has the knack for maintaining long-distance friendship. When I was a child, my best friend from 4th grade and I continued to write letters for four years long after I’d left the school after just one year. I always had long-term pen pals, one from Germany, one from Australia. My husband, on the other hand, moved around a lot more than I did and never kept up contact with any friends he made in school. Now, it’s the opposite! He keeps in touch while I make excuses for letting things slide. It’s not that I feel jealous of his strength, what I feel is more admiration and respect, much like the other things he’s good at that I simply could not imagine myself doing, like teaching everything from first grade to ex-con adult education. The way I witness him doing it is through correspondence, being more open about himself as a person than as a writer/artist, and through spending time with others for a movie, coffee, drinks, exercise. Things that I just said I seem to have almost lost the understanding of. (And to be really self-deprecating and completely honest, an understanding that I’m not sure I ever had. As a naturally shy person who was not taught or had the expectation of practicing basic social skills by my parents like answering the phone or shaking hands, I’ve spent my entire life since leaving home at 17, almost 18 years old, studying/analyzing for myself the basic courtesies of various social situations.) For me, it all rose to the surface when we visited Austin for four days in December, after almost a year and a half of being gone from the city we made our home for 10 years. I was genuinely happy to meet up the longtime friends I was able to, and still happy to make contact with those I didn’t get to see in person. But the experience was eerily like my sophomore year at collage: all the people I felt I knew in high school and formerly spent a good deal of time with, I realized had not actually been friends. And since there’s a chance we may be moving out of Tucson later this year, I’m determined not to let that happen again, because a piece of me will always be here that will never find a home anywhere else.

In 2010, I’m trying to keep those long-term life experiences in scope and in balance with continuing to build my mission as an artist through less doing, more living.