Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Transgression




Today's class ended with some heavy questions. We filed out of the lecture hall in a sombre silence, pondering the dark topics we had been discussing for the past two hours. When it comes to Art, where do you draw the line? Which boundaries do you choose to leave intact? Once you have chosen, you have to question, why leave those in the realm of taboo while attempting to tackle others? Today we discussed transgression. Particularly, we focused on the concept of transgression in Art. The presentation went from something as tame as (according to today's standards) Manet's 'Olympia' to the extreme end of the spectrum resulting in bludgeoning a kitten to death with a hammer and then proceeding to masturbate over its corpse. Needless to say, we left pondering the darker side of human nature.

It can be argued that all great Art is transgressive. Perhaps. I'm sure the works and artists remembered today were transgressive, to an extent. I always attempt to regard history with caution. Art History is very subjective. I was recently reading a essay on the idea of Art History as a global phenomena. James Elkins very candidly points out that Art Historians are not immune from patriotism when it comes to compiling their books and records. I haven't gotten very far into the book, but it has become quite clear that Art History is being approached as a Western model by most people looking into the subject. Are all the "greats" immortalized in our history books transgressive? Probably. Were they the first ones or the best in their respective categories? Probably not. I often reflect about those who were forgotten because they didn't have the correct contacts to enter those fated social circles.

Transgressive Art plays an incredibly vital role in the way culture evolves. I suppose transgressive thought is a better way to put it. I have a hard time separating Thought from Art. They have an interdependent relationship and that suits me just fine. Do I think all Art needs to be transgressive? No. I would define Art as the universal urge to create. It compels us when we are content and it compels us when we are in dire circumstances. It is a way to digest life. In that sense, I feel that Art and Art Therapy are two names for the same thing. Art is a reflection of the people who give it time to grow. You need to see both the conventional and the controversial in a culture to tackle and achieve a chunk of that ever so elusive Understanding. That being said, I cannot downplay the importance transgression plays. Where would we get in life without a little bit of rule breaking? How can we ever hope to understand the classic questions of humanity if we don't ponder over why we ponder in the first place.

Unfortunately, when you decide to sit down and give it serious thought, you have to acknowledge all of it. Even the dark, sour things that threaten to break your heart. I'm not proposing that I have any answers. I'm fumbling for understanding and there are moments when I refuse to think about it at all. I want to ignore it because it makes me feel helpless. It's like my body is dust, and there's nothing I could ever accomplish because the slightest woosh of uncertainty would obliterate me as if I never existed. That feeling scares the shit out of me, but I know that I'll never get anywhere if I hide. It leaves you with such a gnawing dissatisfaction. The last piece we looked at before ending for the day was Marina Abramovic's performance Rhythm 0. She stood passively in a space for six hours, inviting strangers to do as they wished.

"There are 72 objects on the table that one can use on me as desired." (Among these: a rose, a feather, etc. to a knife, and a loaded gun)

Why? Perhaps to prove that people can really, truly suck, despite the country. There is the illusion that the terrible aspects of humanity rear their heads exclusively in the Third World. Abramovic showed that humanity carries a darker side, no matter the country. The performance started off tame, the audience have her hold pictures, a rose, tickling her with the feather. Then the aggressive acts of a few emboldened others.

“The experience I learned was that…if you leave decision to the public, you can be killed.” ... “I felt really violated: they cut my clothes, stuck rose thorns in my stomach, one person aimed the gun at my head, and another took it away. It created an aggressive atmosphere. After exactly 6 hours, as planned, I stood up and started walking toward the public. Everyone ran away, escaping an actual confrontation.”


Just because there is the invitation, is that justification for hurting someone? Or killing them?

Monday, March 29, 2010

That Infectious Mr. A











So. I woke up this morning to pounding rain and howling wind. I decided to stay home. Today I have to work on my newest video piece and to do another Mr. A face drawing. Above are the fruits of my labor so far. The picture of me smiling stupidly is after I managed to scrub all that crap off. Of the face work I've done so far, this one was the MOST PAINFUL to wash off. The water wouldn't warm up (thankfully that wasn't the case when I went to shower) and so I attempted to scrub it all over with soap and icy death water. I ended up getting soap in my eyes repeatedly. If anyone was downstairs they probably heard massive thuds (me thrashing about the bathroom in agony) and muffled screams. But it came off, thus the exhausted and slightly insane smile on my face. Oh, Mr. A, what I go through for you.

I'm really sinking my teeth into this idea that Mr. A becomes a transformation. He is my Alter Ego and we battle for dominance in the space that is my body. It would be interesting to explore Mr. A in the form of stigmata, or my own version of stigmata.

Oh I Couldn't Help Myself!

No words can describe the hilarity:



Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Difficulty

I'm feeling quite frustrated at the moment. I was doing the usual skype date with Mo when he told me some news. Bless that big, hairy man of mine, I love him to death. However, one source of... eh, I guess I would word it as 'tension', is our backgrounds. Mo grew up in Sudan. His father is Sudanese and a practicing muslim, his mother is filipino and converted to join his father. Both my parents come from the Protestant American middle class, our great grandparents having made the journey over from Europe way back when. Mo and I are both non-religious. We don't feel it is necessary to define ourselves and how we act by a religion. I'd much rather figure out how to be a decent human being through just that, being human. It's said that "With God, anything is possible." I think the correct way of wording that is "With People, anything is possible."

To get back on track, I was reminded of the difficulties that come from having relatives of a conservative nature. Mo's parents are coming over from Sudan for his graduation in May. It is exciting. After two years I finally get to meet the folks. Since Mo is graduating, other members are coming over a.k.a. his aunts. Here comes the point of complication, I live with Mo and his brother. More accurately, I rent out an apartment with Mo and his brother. My name is on the lease. I work hard to cover my share of the rent. So this isn't to be confused with me mooching or having "moved-in". It's great, we live well together. I mean sometimes I want to destroy his brother, but on the whole it is a peaceful living environment.

So let's sum up what we have so far, shall we?

Conservative relatives coming to visit.

Their son/nephew lives with a girl out of wedlock.

Difficulties ensue. His parents gave the okay for this living arrangement, as did my parents. It was financially the best choice because the apartment is cheap. Hurray wonderful, great.... hmmm... not so great when they ask me to hide my things and pretend I don't live in my own home when the aunties come over. It is the "my own home" thing that bothers me the most. I love my parents, and I love where I grew up. However, that apartment has become my home. For clarification, I NO LONGER LIVE WITH MY PARENTS. I can't just skip over there for the day... it would take a while to skip there. I wouldn't recommend it seeing that they live three hours away (by car, incase you were wondering). So, what am I to do when I'm expected to not "actually" live where I live? There is no where else in the District of Columbia for me to go. They wont be staying with us but they will be over here for a while. What happens when they decide to randomly come calling one day. Am I supposed to hide all my stuff with a snap of a finger and dive out the window ( I live on the 6th floor)? I can't help but be reminded of that scene from Matilda when they have to hide all the happy things in the classroom behind flaps and doors before that wretched principle comes stomping in.

Is my defensiveness a bit too strong? Perhaps. It just rubs me the wrong way. When you get down to it, being told that you have to pretend your situation is different from what it actually is, in this sense, hits on the idea that what you are doing is fundamentally wrong. His parents say okay, you can live together because of the circumstances (but its wrong). Therefore it must be hidden instead of standing up to the overbearing, conservative opinions of others. Mo stood up for me. He got into a row with his mom over it. At the same time, I don't want relations between him and his mother to be rocky because of me. I made it clear that if it comes to hiding that I live there, fine. Hide my shit... or try to at least. My stuff is everywhere, after all, it is my home. But don't expect me to be there, "just visiting" when they call. I refuse to sit on my own couch, smile, and say "Oh yes, I'm still living in a dorm." No thanks, I'll be out reading a book in the park or drinking coffee. Maybe even both.


Saturday, March 27, 2010

Nurture Shock

Recently I've reading NurtureShock, which is a blog and recently published book by Po Bronson (Yes, I would like to have Po for a name as well. You would think that would have to be short for something) and Ashley Merryman. They also have a regular column in Newsweek. Their main beef is the belief that today's agreed upon methods for raising our kiddies are wrong, wrong to the extent that they are "backfiring". Goodie, sounds exciting and you can be rest assured, I dug my teeth into this idea like a ravenous beast. Munch, munch. Despite my humor, yes, they do make a lot of sense. I like the way they think.

I recently read a number of articles they posted on the idea of predicting our children's future academic success. Private schools will go to preschools and scope out the children, picking those who show the most obedience. Apparently they are under the belief that an obedient 4 year old tike will grow into an obedient, successful student. Lets ignore the fact the child is still growing, as NurtureShock was quick to point out. The factors change with age. Being social and amiable is important when you are four, however, studies showed that these kids didn't actually end up being the academic stars of the class. In fact, the introverted teen was often the brain. I can't help but be reminded of awkwardly reading my book in the lunchroom while the popular boys from the wrestling team threw food and crude jokes back and forth. I graduated second in my class, those guys... not so much. I was also a roaring terror as a young child. Mom's theme song for me used to be "She drives me crazy! ooo! ooo!"

I guess what really bothers me about all that is this obsession with being elite. "My child is gifted! GIFTED!" It seems pretty absurd to me. When I have a child I'm going to focus on making him/her a decent human-being with respect for humanity instead of getting into the best prep school.


Sunday, March 14, 2010

OOoooooooooooh Man...






Today has been a busy day. I did laundry, made some beef stew, cleaned the house.... painted Mr. A on my face. Yeah, it was a good day.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Mark Newport


Mark Newport is a huge inspiration for the work I do now. Check out his website! Here is a picture of a piece I have showing right now in the Corcoran Ceramic Annual:

You can't see the details very clearly but this is Mr. A in one of his earlier forms. It's a bit like a Mr. A cult making pots :D

But back to Mark Newport. This is the link to his website:


www.marknewportartist.com


& Here be taste of his awesomeness:









Saturday, March 6, 2010

Sheep

I am home alone this weekend. Unlike the Berlin trip, where I was excited to have the house to myself (because I wasn't all that interested in going to Berlin) this time I am very disgruntled. I am disgruntled because everyone in my house (except for me) are going to spend the night in Ireland's MOST haunted castle. The everyone in the photo class and people fortunate enough to have had their names drawn in the lottery (obviously I was not blessed with such fortune) are on their way right now. Actually they probably are already there, exploring the haunted towers and dungeon.

I am a wrinkled prune of jealousy.

So I decided to channel my bitter bitterness into something positive. I cleaned. Look how clean the kitchen is!










As I was mopping the floor I looked up to suddenly encounter at least ten sheep staring through the window at me. Ireland is a strange place. This picture should give you a good idea of what it was like:
















I then watched as the my landlord chased them all off. Which then made me think of this:






Bloody weather.