An art-free post

I've been writing too much about art, I know. Some of you, gentle readers, are artists, but some are just my family. Speaking of which, I had a Skype video chat with my parents yesterday in which they were kind enough to hold up my beautiful cat to the camera. He's still really pretty. In my parents' living room (in their apartment in Austin), there are four chairs. When I was there over the holidays, each of us would sit in one, and Oz would take the fourth. You can see him in the brown chair on the right. Now, of course, he has the choice of two chairs, which must be overwhelming.
I went to the Marche aux Puces de Clingancourt today, on the far side of Montmartre. It's a huge flea market that covers a few square miles. Stalls are set up to sell all kinds of junk, and there are streets with shops in between the open areas. The rue de Rosiers has high-end antiques, which were very pretty and exorbitantly priced. I was looking for a lamp, but I couldn't find one under 2000 euros. I did, however, get some lovely pieces of antique lace at one store. I've been spending a lot of time shopping, getting my apartment set up. Here is the list of what I bought today:

1) Aforementioned antique lace
2) A Rodolfo Dordoni lamp (not 2000 euros)
3) Mailing envelopes
4) Candle
5) Two chess-piece shaped things that I can hopefully turn into bookends
6) An immersion blender
7) Vinyl tape, to help with the bookend project
8) A towel
9) A Cherry Coke (yay!)

Churches and Modern Art

I went by St. Sulpice a couple of days ago. When I was here in July, I lived on rue St. Sulpice for a couple of weeks: just the neighborhood parish, you know. It's an 18th century cathedral done in a quasi-classical style. It has colonnades and friezes, but also two unmatched turrets and a Renaissance-style dome. Surprisingly, it all works quite well together. Not as good as the high Gothic, my friends, but what is. This summer, I was most surprised to see a piece of contemporary art installed in one of the side chapels. I thought it might have been a temporary exhibition, but it was, in fact, still there on Tuesday. Called Epiphany, it was made in 2007 by Benjamin Bergery and Jim Campbell, two American artists with backgrounds in (respectively) cinematography and electrical engineering. Three screens (one of Japanese paper, one of sandblasted glass, and one of ground plexiglass) show figures in vague Biblical narratives. It's subtle, beautiful, and open to interpretation.
Modern art is rarely shown in churches. There are a variety of reasons why, such as the move away from religious themes in the art of the last century and the somewhat ground-in stance of abstract expressionism when there is any spirituality at all. In American churches, the only art is in the stained glass. Look at them: they're all abstract shapes of varied shape and color, and that's it. So that's what makes this effort special. Check it out:




So if anyone's wondering exactly why I want to go to graduate school, it's because I can't resolve the gap between modern art and religious practice. No one can. Frustrating, right? Well, probably not to you.

München Part Zwei

Wow, last post was LONG, right? I'll break down the rest of Munich for you. Mainly is consists of bratwurst, beer, and the Pinakothek der Moderne (the modern art museum). It's relatively new, but the collection is already impressive. They have quite a bit of Joseph Beuys, which I loved. I'd never seen a Warhol portrait of Beuys in person (which I suppose isn't terribly important when you're talking about Warhol), but I liked it. A pop artist making an iconic portrait of yet another artist who focused on mythology and unlikely materials in his work, then literally camouflaging against his fame. How awesome is that?

Moving on. Benjamin Bergmann created an amazing piece for the museum's large stairway. It's composed of a huge number of baskets, holding coal-miner's clothes and equipment, that are suspended by pulley. Ropes and chains anchor the baskets from a horizontal base, and the lines where black rope meets silver chain make a pattern along the wall. The press statement points out that is looks like a musical score; the baskets hold items that relate to the time of day that they're moved up or down the mineshaft for use, tracing the daily routime of the miners. It reminds me of Christy's work: sound and time made visible. So Christy, check it out.

München

I'm in Munich at the moment. I took the train here from Paris to see my brother, who had a business trip. I entertained myself on Thursday, while Kevin was working, by a mad sightseeing blitz. The main part of the old town is called the Marienplatz, and a lot of what's worth seeing is around there. First destination: the Frauenkirche (I've been trying to pronounce that correctly for three days, but the effort is doomed). Let me tell you ALL ABOUT IT.
The photo above is of the nave. It's has a beautiful ceiling--late Gothic (1525), so it has all the vaulting without the messiness. Personally, I adore the messiness, but a lot of people don't. I blame Marcel Duchamp.
This is the devil's footprint. You may notice from the photos above that the windows of the nave are very narrow. When you stand at the east entrance and look down the main aisle, you can't see the windows at all. The legend goes, the devil came down to inspect this new church being built and laughed that a church with no windows wasn't very useful. When he moved, he saw the windows and stamped his foot in anger. Hence the black footprint with the spur-like protrusion at the heel.
I went from the Frauenkirche to the Neues Rathaus, the new town hall. "New" here means "15th century." The clock tower has a Glockenspiel, two tiers of painted wooden figures that rotate and otherwise move when the clock strikes 11 AM and 5 PM. I have to get QuickTime Pro to flip this clip, so you have to watch it sideways. Stop chastiseing, I'm WORKING ON IT. JEEZ. I took Kevin back there this morning so that he could see it, and he got all cute and excited. Sometimes, the only difference between him and his toddler is size.



After the Glockenspiel, I saw St. Michael's, a Jesuit church (built 1583-1597). Right on the threshold of the Baroque, it's all plaster and gilt. By my estimation, the main attraction is the great bronze cross by Gionvanni da Bologna (1594). It used to stand on the steps before the high altar, but that place has been taken by later sculpture. The figure of Mary Magdalene at the base of the cross is masterful; it was added in 1595 by H. Reichle. The draping, the posture, and the facial modeling all make it extrodinarily expressive. The scale of the piece is the most important element. She is REALLY far below Christ, and it makes her longing for him that much more tragic.

A candle for St Anthony

I lit a candle for Lais in the Frauenkirche (in Munich) just now. Her mother appreciates it. Lais, that's yours on the


right.
--Wandering Post

Inauguration

I'm sure that everyone and their ferret are posting about the inauguration on their blogs, but here's my two cents:
Yesterday, I felt so globally connected: I had a Skype conference call with Carole Lung in Huntington Beach and Bailey Salisbury in Chicago. Today, I feel somewhat excommunicated. I rushed home to watch the inauguration in my apartment, but I didn't have anyone to talk to about it (except Indira, my stuffed tiger, who was actually quite nice about all my sniffling). I cried at Sen. Feinstein's opening address (by the way, how great was it to have Feinstein AND Pelosi, both women from San Francisco, announced as VIPs). And Aretha-Oh-My-God-I-Want-That-Hat-Franklin did a stupendous job. Also worth noting, the First Lady's outfit kicked ass. With the matching green pumps and gloves? SO Jackie O.
About the inaugural speech itself: extremely well crafted. I mean to go over the transcription several times. And way to go, calling America to work. I felt that the speech was especially relevant to craftspeople as well as laborers ("the doers, the makers of things"). In North Carolina last week, a large portion of conversation revolved around the dying of the textile industry in the United States. Textile workers, before unacknowledged and unappreciated, are now also almost defunct. It's incredibly sad to see. At the same time, we were urged by a few speakers to think of this crisis as an opportunity; we can bring the industry back in a better-functioning way. Living wages, a merging of design and technical knowledge, and environmentally sustainable fibers are key. I hope to contribute to this attempt in some small way.
President Obama called for no less than a total revamp of both the American Government and the American Economy. The sticking point, I think, is that many people, including me, personally believe in Obama so much that we're willing to go along with just about anything. There will be commentary, discussion, and opposition on all of his efforts, but I truly predict that he'll get a few needful things done. Maybe he really IS the Messiah.

St Severin

While I was at the Oriole Mill, I wove the piece in the bottom photo. It's a picture of the interior of St Severin, my favorite church in Paris. It has amazing arches called "palmtree" vaults, and they're completely unique. I love High Gothic anywhere I can get it, but this place feels special. It's lower and darker than the usual upward reaches of a Gothic cathedral, and it feels very intimate and homey. Lucky for me, it's a block away from my apartment. I took the photo on the top this morning, when I went to say hello to the church and light candles for my family. In my completely arbitrary rules of religious observance, lighting candles is OK for someone who doesn't believe in God. I like showing my wishes in a visible form. The candles can make my hopes for my loved ones very solid, and I appreciate them for that service.
So everyone, in case the universe thinks candles are hokey, and it only responds to binary code (presumably because it thinks that doing everything through the internet makes it look hip to its friends), let this serve as my well-wishing.

Finally, the blog title makes sense

I'm in Paris! There were a few mixups on the way here, but everything turned out alright. I slept all afternoon, since I couldn't really sleep on the plane. I had dinner at the brasserie right next door...it was interesting. The waiters wear metallic cowboy hats and fake leis, and everything they give you (drinks, food, bowl of olives) is garnished with a SPARKLER. It felt like Cancun. Tomorrow will hopefully feel like Paris. Or at least London, or Brussels, or some other city in the near geographic vicinity.

People look AWFULLY focused here

I've been at the Jacquard Center since Sunday. Christy is teaching a class; in attendance are me, Lia Cook (Christy's and my teacher), and Bailey Salisbury (Christy's student from SAIC). She has someone she studied under, someone she studied with, and someone she is currently teaching.
We've been having a really good time. My weaving is going well, which is the main thing giving me a good attitude. Christy and I are also working on getting me into school: we're going over recommendations, essays, and personal statements. We also drink a lot of wine while sitting around and talking. That component is key.
Barry and Johnny, the technicians who are working with us, seem interested in what I'm doing. It's the highest form of compliment to capture their attention--they don't bother with things they don't like. Bethanne, who's on the right side of the photo, is giving us her full expertise.
I began to realize at the conference just how special this arrangement is. You can do this in two other places in the world (one in Italy, one in Australia). It's a unique opportunity to work with industrial machines, and Bethanne is committed to helping artists this way. It's a good thing, because I'd be nowhere without this place.
I'm pushing myself through these next few days. I have to weave everything I need, finish the SAIC application, and get to France. After that, I'm going to absolutely crash.

Conference Blow-out Extravaganza

The Inspired Design: Jacquard and Entrepreneurial Textiles conference finally burned itself out yesterday. The speakers were generally great. Andrew Wagner, the editor-in-chief of American Craft magazine gave a good talk on where he sees craft going in the future. Catherine Ellis described her Woven Shibori process. But the star, as far as I'm concerned, was Janis Jeffries (who you will see on the left side of the photograph). Janis is a professor at Goldsmiths, a prestigious art college in London. She's written several influential books in art theory, and she's smart as a whip. More than that, she's insightful, interesting, and funny as hell when you talk to her. When a speaker said something with which she disagreed, she'd shake her head and mutter from her seat. This was very personally satisfying for me, because I usually disagreed as well, but since there was no real dialouge here, we were all stuck muttering to ourselves.
Last night, a bunch of us went out for dinner and drinks. From Janis on the left, there's Bailey Salisbury, Tim Parry-Williams, Carole Lung, and Christy Matson. I can't tell you how talented these people are nor what an honor it was to be included in their company. Most interestingly, they all seem to think that I am AWESOME. This conference has been an ego boost to the nth degree. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm a real artist.
So take THAT, Kevin and Julie. Are you a leading expert in YOUR field? Because apparently I am. Sibling rivalry done and done. Thanks for coming out, try again next year.

FiberFest 2009

Tonight was the opening reception for Inspired Design, the conference in Hendersonville, NC that I'm attending. Christy Matson, the world's best weaver and all-around cool customer, is exhibiting there along with me. She's also lecturing at the conference and teaching the mill-access class at the Jacquard Center, because she's half Tasmasian devil.
I haven't been in the midst of this kind of fiber crowd in a while. Everyone wears impressive scarves and comments on each other's scarves (one man wore web-toed shoes). After the compulsory scarf-talk, talk centers around fiber arts programs and weaving shop-talk. A sample might sound like this:

"Hey, is that a Kashmiri paisley?"

"No, actually, it's from Bhutan. Isn't it wonderful how they've managed to hold on to their traditions there? You know, aside from the antiquated government and poverty."

"Yes, I love it there. I went with a group from the Toronto Textile Museum to visit weavers in 2002. I felt so AUTHENTIC."

"Do you live in Canada? The Centre de Textiles Contemporains in Montreal has an amazing residency program. I think their Jumbo looms have much better resolution than anything in the States..."

You get the point.

The Santaland Diaries

Last night, New Year's Eve, the whole family went to see the theater adaptation of David Sedaris's The Santaland Diaries. I almost peed myself. My favorite part of the essay is the bit about the Magic Window. When Sedaris is working as a Macy's elf, he gets assigned to stand by the Magic Window and tell people that if they stand on the Magic Star, they can see Santa through the window. Needless to say, this becomes a rather repetitive and boring task. So he starts telling people they can see all kinds of people through the window, like Cher and Mike Tyson. This actor, updating it for his current audience, changed it to Beyoncé. Funny enough to imagine, but not as funny as the SPOT-ON rendition of Beyoncé's dance from the "Single Ladies" video performed by a 5'7" skinny black man in an elf costume. If you need to see for yourself, and I think you do, go here:

http://www.zachtheatre.org/holidayElf/

The Holidays, They Are Over

Christmas was very, very shiny. Jesus brought his A-game to St. Louis, the church where Nicole, Zac, and I attended mass that morning. They were mortified when I whipped out my camera, but what can I say, I'm a gawker. We sang some carols, led by a man with fantastic hair, and then listened to the priest lose his place several times over. Brunch, presents, take the dogs for a walk, Christmas dinner (at which Anne made a rather impressive spinach soufflé). It was a great day.


Zac brought his lovely wife Nicole and their fantastic Chihuahua puppy, Lily. My grandpa loves little dogs. In fact, although Uncle Jim seems to have been permanently scarred by his childhood with mean pets, Grandpa was constantly aquiring them for my mom and her siblings. They had a freakin' PONY! A mean, old pony, but still a pony. The cat, Old Tom, survived several rattlesnake bites, and then there was the succession of poodles. Grandpa loves Lily, and had her on his lap as much as humanly possible.