New Art

           I was thinking about making a whole book of wise animals teaching the thoughts that go through my head these days.  This is what I have so far.   Said The Heron and Said The Dog are in the works.  I came up with this in a fit of rage. I was so angry. It's neat when good things come out of anger, better to make art than war.

This is a gouache painting of a crow.

This gouache is a study for this other painting of crows I'm doing for my friend Chessa.

           It's about 60 percent done. The tip of the right crow is cut off in this image, but not in the real painting, I swear.

          And then there's this one.  It's about 40 percent done, just barely getting all the shadow shapes and highlights in. I took the picture at a strange angel, but in reality it's rectangular.

          Here is the still life I'm working on for my Painting class. I like it, though it's still a bit too dark.

Until December, I'll be posting weekly artist research for these projects I'm doing in my Painting II class.  

Juan Sanchez Cotan lived from June 1560 to September 1627 in Spain.  He was a realist painter who specialized in still life and religious art. His style is severe and vibrant with interesting and thought-out compositions.  This piece is called Quince, Cabbage, Melon and Cucumber from 1602; it is now at the San Diego Museum of Art.

                                                                                                                                                                     This still life is relevant to my work in that it strays from tradition, and it strays from the traditional way I think a still life should look. I want to be doing this as an artist; pushing boundaries until they fall.  When I think still life, I have the same boring image in my head of a vase on a table, or a basket of fruit,  when it could be anything that is still, in any arrangement.  I need to not be boxed in by my ideas.  It seems to me that Cotan was more concerned with composition than tradition. The strings hanging the fruit and the vegetable from the ceiling lead the viewers eye down and right, through the composition, and through the melon, to end in the shadow of the cucumber.

Cotan's work, hundreds of years later, continues to inspire us to rebel against tradition. Artist Ori Gersht looked at Cotan's piece and saw the potential for movement (He was born in 1967 and is still kicking, and is an Israeli fine art photographer who lives and works in London).  The image below is a still frame of  a slow motion video Gersht created. Gersht renames the piece Pomegranate, and he replaces Cotan's  quince with a pomegranate being shot by some sort of projectile.  He captures the scene at the very moment before impact.
      

And here is a link to this image in motion. It's great.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KMsrE3e30k


I wanted to include some of Cotan's religious work just to give a look at how traditional some of his work was.  He seemed to really let loose when painting still life, which implies they were vital for his expression when the religious, commissioned works weren't as much. This painting is of Saint Sebastian from 1615. It's luminosity comes from being painted on copper.

I am reading a book called Aesthetics and Painting by Jason Gaiger. So far, I've read the first chapter where Gaiger explains that old debate between philosophers and artists, the relevance of philosophy in art. He explains the different theories for thinking about and critiquing art thus far in the history of aesthetics and how each falls short to find an all encompassing view. He uses quotes from artists such Barnett Newman and Picasso to discuss the artists' resistance to the philosophy of aesthetics in art:
Wyndham Lewis told the critic and philosopher T.E. Hulme, 'I do it, you say it.' More brutally, Pablo Picasso once retorted to someone who was trying to explain his work: ' Don't speak to the driver!' What lies behind these remarks is the belief that the artist is always one step ahead of the philosopher, who frequently arrives too late on the scene and whose efforts at comprehension never quite live up to the originality and excitement of the creative process (p.5).
Gaiger proposes that none of the traditional views for thinking about painting are quite good enough. None of them are sufficiently all-inclusive to give real insight to the 'ultimate truth of painting.'  He says, neither should we reject philosophy as important to art or art important to philosophy, but embrace them as inseparable, and necessary parts of each other.

Geoff and I wrote this for a reporter from the Danish newspaper called Weekendavisen.


Hello Réne,
Thanks for coming to my school to inquire about our feelings on being American. I had to write you in hopes of reflecting a less acknowledged view that American youth hold. It is an identity of shame. My government does not make me proud. My companion and I wrote this together to give a voice to those Americans who are ashamed of our governments actions.  

What it means to me to be an American.

I love the American country, and I love the American people. I fear the American government and corporate establishment, and I hate what they are doing to our country and our world.
I am American; my family is here and everyone I've ever loved is here. It's all I know as home. Unfortunately my America has become fat, greedy, and hungry for violence disguised as peace and money, money, money.
Growing up poor, it was clear that class and money had everything to do with health and happiness. As I grew up, read some books, and explored the country, I realized how rich in hypocrisy America is. I was born in the Reagan years, during the War on Drugs, an undeclared "War" on the poorest and most unfortunate Americans. I experienced the D.A.R.E. (Drug Awareness Resistance Education) program in school, popular at that time. These programs exposed kids to drugs at a very early age. When I was ten in this program I was shown cocaine and marijuana for my first time. They were in a plexiglass case that the officers brought to school so that we would all know exactly what those terrible drugs would look like so we could avoid them. They told us that if we saw any drugs like that at home that we should tell the police officer so that they could "get your mommy and daddy the help they need."
After the Reagan years came Bush. Followed by Clinton, who seemed like more of the same at the time. But then Bush Junior came into power, and reminded us all just how terrible Reagan really was – Clinton's eight years of malaise and fattening corporations came to seem like paradise. By the time Obama came to office, I was completely disillusioned by politics, though I voted for him in faint hope that he could return the country to sanity. He couldn't.
I believe my government commits terrible crimes in the name of peace. I know that my government is causing a lot of people to suffer and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. Somehow they are even forcing me to pay for it. I am paying for this dominance, violence, and ignorance.
I overheard some students talking about how they view their identity as Americans, babbling on about America being, in their words, "A big family, though dysfunctional." The irony of their patriarchal attitude is clear to the poor. No family could ever treat anyone the way America treats the poor and the foreign. The other students can't really be blamed, because they have never known what it's like to be poor, worrying about paying for doctor visits and medication. To be a veterans of our wars, disabled, left on meager rations to live in the slums of cities or even under bridges. There are actual tent cities in America now, people who cannot find anywhere indoors to live. Our system has, literally, shut them out.
Corporations pollute and rob and the owners are not held accountable. Heck, they don't even part taxes. Meanwhile, I have to borrow thousands of dollars to go to college from them, and I can't go to see a dentist or doctor.
That's what it is for me to be American. If you are rich, it's a great place to be, but if you are one of the rest of us, you are on your own.

              Despite the downfalls of suffering, I have recieved a priceless outlook on life. I learned what it was like to be deprived, alone, poor, sad, hungry and scared. As a consequence, I act with compassion toward others. I know what the bottom looks and feels like so I am empathetic towards others’ circumstances while being grateful for my own because I know how bad life can be when you don’t deserve it.

               If someone asks me for change on the street, I give it to them if I have it to spare. If someone is confused or sad and needs to talk, even if I am busy, I will take time out of my life to listen and console because I know what a difference it can make for someone. I will stand up to some one in a place of authority if they are acting abusive. 

              Now that I am a confident, willful adult, I do not tolerate abuse on any level from anyone. I don’t wallow in resentment, self pity and hate. I forgive instead because I’ve learned I am the only person suffering   from harboring these emotions. No matter what the rules are or someone says, I do what is right, defend the weak, stop abuse, act out of love and try to have an open mind. 

             Too many people are consumed by regret for the past or filled with worry for the future.  This robs them of experiencing life as it's happening. By striving to live in a way that produces little regret and not obsessing about aspects of life I ultimately have no control of, I am able to fully live in each moment, enjoying it to the fullest because I know it's all I have.

      It's about 120 degrees here in Austin.  My skin is turning dark.   I've been working ALOT: cooking and cleaning for an inspiring person and cocktail waitressing at a sleezy club not far from my pad. When I'm not at either, I'm drawing, inking, planning art and painting with Geoff. Life is good. Also, I am very excited to start school in August for my Bachelors in Visual arts.  
      Here are the first six pages of the comic that I've been helping with. Geoff wrote and directed it. I have been helping make it beautiful, which is fun and fulfilling. I can truly say that I've never been in a more artistically satisfying relationship.  We create things together, critique each others work, and inspiration comes through this process. What we have is different then anything I've experienced in the past. Usually relationships are destructive, where ours is constructive. It's kind of neat.

  

      The rest of the story is coming soon!




      And here are some ideas out of my sketch book.  


        These aren't the right seven sins, but I'll work out the details later.

              An idea for a painting.

        An angel whose body was found in a Playboy magazine.

      


          A raw dog food logo starring Rocky.   

                      Untitled

       A trippy tree.

      I have plenty to think on right now. While I remain relatively composed, many people I love are having a hard time. They're either sick, miserable, fucked up on drugs, mentally unstable, or all of the above. They don't trust their realities because all they've been shown is hostility.  They've been let down by life. I can relate, but what is the difference between them and me? Why am I ok while they're not?  I used to be a lot worse off, mentally and physically.  What has changed?  I refuse to believe I have simply grown up. It's more that I went through an ultimate metamorphosis. Four years ago, I was a self destructing monster, Now I'm a college graduate, but far better than that, I am able to feel happiness and love when it's deserved where before I could not.
      I have found sanity possible only by constant maintenance. I have to consistently practice honesty especially with myself. I have to quiet my mind through meditation and breath whenever I have a chance. I have to continually remind myself that I am not the center of the universe.  I have to remember what I am grateful for everyday. I have to listen to my heart when it's screaming at me.  I must not run from any part my past, but embrace it. Most importantly, I can't hold on to my hate.  If I hold on to resentments, they'll eat away my heart and mind. 
     This process has all to do with learning who I am, learning what I am comfortable with and what I can't stand. It involves writing about and dissecting scenarios to understand them better, rather than turning my back on an issue because I am uncomfortable or scared. It involves loving myself well enough to know how to really love myself. If I fall from my regimen of self truth, exploration and love than it's only a matter of time before a downslide.

      I am determined in my steps away from oblivion, my  strides toward truth and peace of mind.  I don't want to judge my reality any more as good or bad. I want to accept reality fully and that includes accepting that others are suffering while I am not. I can't do anything to fix it.  We all have our time to shine and to suffer.  Why would I want to deny them their destinies and lessons anyhow?

Your emotions make you a monster.

    
    I am ranting and sharing about this in hopes that I may not be so deeply affected by the actions of others in the future.  I need a wall, a big, strong, healthy wall with some holes in it so that I might still participate in life.  I find that by reacting with raw anger, even with good intention, it always makes things worse. I make it worse for the victims, the villains, the heros and all innocent bystanders in ear shot of my cursing.
    I had a run in at a local swim  hole today. I was playing fetch with Rocky which consists of him barking manically at me until I throw him a stick. I usually have to gather at least five or so good size sticks to keep up with his stick drive. Insatiable is his duty to chip, shred and swim.  
    I was having a pretty good time until I noticed a man hurling a seven pound toy poodle through the air, towards the water.  Not just hurling either, but launching. It's feet were splayed out in four directions, a sign of being terrified to land. I would be too if a giant launched me through the air. The spot in the water the man was throwing his poodle was deep, but there are many randomly placed rocks in the water, some not sitting flat, to where even with really good aim he was putting his little guy in danger.
        So let's say this dog has a thing for being hurled through the air that I am unaware of (which was not apparent in the dog's body language at all). Wouldn't this guy have the fucking brains to move down stream a little where there would be absolutely no chance of injury?
       Of course not, because he was doing it for attention, not for the pleasure of his pooch, right in the chaotic center of the swim hole. He was not only putting his dog in danger, but others too.  The place was packed enough to the point where I found it difficult to throw a stick at times for fear of hitting somebody, let alone a whole fucking poodle.
     You might be reading this thinking, " Damn, she's overreacting a bit about this, I mean it's not even her dog.  Why doesn't she just mind her own business? Doesn't she realize she could have misperceived the whole situation?Why take that risk to make an ass out of yourself?" 
      Well, let me tell you. I notice when defenseless things, be it human or animal, are uncomfortable or being slightly dominated, or more.  And I have been right too often on these judgement calls.  I used to feel guilty about these strong emotions before I really owned my personality.  Now I know without a doubt what makes me happy, sad, angry, uncomfortable and protective.  I honor these emotions because if I didn't I would explode or at the very least use drugs again  and I want to avoid these two things, especially exploding.
     One of my favorite therapist said to me, after I suspected someone of child abuse in Burlington, "Gewel, Who better to notice dominance, but you. It's all you know. Technically, and I am sad to say this, you are an expert in the subject after being relentlessly surrounded by dominance and abuse your entire childhood and adolescence and you managed to dig out of the mental wreckage with healthy perspective and wisdom. Trust your gut more. Don't feel guilty about being perceptive. Trust yourself." And so I did and she was right. Dammit.
     Even though this particular situation was a no brainer really. You don't throw a dog like that in such a crowded swim hole. It's just fucking dangerous. And news flash you ass hat, dogs don't like  being thrown that hard. A dog can handle a toss, sure, but a launch, come on dude.  Did your father teach you to swim like that?  I'd bet money on it that he did.  It's insensitive to say the least; dogs don't want to be thrown, they like to throw themselves at things, but that is an entirely different story and there is usually food, sticks, love or a butt involved. 
     To make a long rant even longer, I noticed him about to launch his dog again.  I swam over and said to him in a quiet, polite voice. "Do you think that you could toss (being polite, because he was actually launching his dog) your buddy in some deeper water?" Pointing towards the deepest area. And then I made some heartfelt eye contact and said, "Because you're upsetting some people, including myself."  He replied with, " I know what I'm doing."  Then he immediately proceeded to throw his dog much farther and higher than the time before. This upset me, because at that point I realized,  I had just made it worse for the little dog.   Now his master had something to prove: that in fact, he really knew what he was doing.  I told him loudly, "If I were your dog, I'd fucking kill myself. You are such a fucking asshole." Maybe not the most intelligent response, but an honest one for sure.
      It was then that I decided to leave. I was not helping the situation at all, but in fact, making it worse for the little dog.  I knew that if the launching continued, and got worse even, I would have tried to claw this guys eyes out. Though I haven't ever and probably wouldn't do something like that, I would rather not test my rage. Damn I was mad.  I saw his blood on his face already with my wishful imagination.
      I feel awfully alone with how sensitive I am to situations and people.  I have been alone with my opinions in the past, I was alone in my opinion today and I am sure there will be more situations available to rub my nose in the fact that most of the world is insensitive and oblivious. It seems to me today that most people would rather not make waves to the point where everyone is wearing blinders, rationalizing each other's behavior. It's like that psychology term group-think, but on a much larger scale. That's why I have preferred the company of dogs over people since I was 14.

Your Emotions Make You a Monster by The Dead Kennedy's: You Tube.

Your mommy told you this

And your daddy told you that

Always think like this

And never do that

You learned so many feelings

But what is there to that

Which are really yours

Or are you just a copycat

You're so boring boring boring

Always tape machine recording

You're so boring boring boring

I've heard all this before

Planless and mindless

Scraps from anywhere

Bunch of used parts

From garbage pails everywhere

Frankenstein became a monster

Just like you

Your scars only show

When someone talks to you

You're so boring boring boring

Always tape machine recording

I've heard all this before

I've heard all this before

Your emotions make you a monster

Beauty is Over-looked

I am brought to my knees by beauty sometimes. Simple wonders know no end such as the intensity of emotion, the power of thought and ideas, even the extraordinary act of drawing breath. These miracles surround us constantly.  Though a common sight is not someone doubled over from shock at the beauty of a sunset. Nor do I notice strangers in the street embracing, thanking each other for bearing witness to the splendor of being alive. Why are some jaded to these fantastic elements?  Are they distracted by the technology and superficial goals popular in our society? Are they consumed by self-obsessed thought until there is not any room left to appreciate beauty?   In this fast-paced environment, where technology and progress rule, beauty is over-looked and under-appreciated. This can be observed by interacting with others.

To see the complacent attitude toward beauty more clearly, pay attention to those around you. Next time you talk to someone, notice how often they complain or seem dissatisfied with some element of life.  Consumed by their selfish problems, they fail to notice the brilliance all around them. They are capable of seeing beauty, but unable to appreciate it because their vision is clouded by self-centered thoughts. They ramble off endless lists of unsolvable problems, always not getting what they think they want.  If they were truly enamoured by life they would be content with reality, accepting and appreciating it completely for what it is. During these conversations I am taken back by the beauty of the sky or the extravagantly crafted cloud floating by their heads as they complain.  If this complaining person is you, my advice is to take a step outside yourself and your problems to appreciate the magnificence that exists all around.

Some seem comfortable exploiting nature for profit. They would rather chase progress, success and money rather than enjoy what exists all around. Why would they rather have a parking lot than a park, or a Wal-mart than a family owned business?  Corporations are not faceless super entities, but made up of people just like you or me. Somewhere, their vision of beauty was distorted. When they think beauty, they see dollar signs. Corporations have destroyed whole ecosystems instead of taking a financial hit. No profit margin exists in a sunset and that oak tree isn’t going to tell them they are special.  There is no ego or gain involved in the true appreciation of beauty and, perhaps, because of this some do not find it appealing.  

The solution to the under-appreciation of beauty lies in the way children see the world with innocence. I notice children staring wide-eyed at their beautiful reality.  I remember the feeling of wonderment that came along with childhood, making up ballads and drawing elaborate worlds with my crayons to explain things I did not understand. Hold on to childhood wonderment, instead of slowly watching it wash away as we age  with criticism, societal standards, false ideals and goals; save the appreciation of beauty.