A Trio of Makers (Ann Arbor Art Fair)

In years past I was all about the Ann Arbor Art Fair, started thinking about it the month prior, researched some of the upcoming artists, planned out routes to maximize work lunch hours and exhausted evening hours; took pics, googled and wrote and felt compelled to publish a post for whosoever may care to read. Then it shifted to childcare hours and who and when and not really time to process later, but at least not sandwiching the sun-hammered art walks between office hours. This time, a few days ago, I glanced online before giving up -- other more pressing research items weighed in -- new car, travel, toddler tendencies and how to handle. This time around: I'll find what I can find.

It was only as I marched on Liberty, having drained my pricey Avalon latte, striding between Holy Mary, Mother of God and the Mars Society booths in nonprofit row, that I realized how happy I was. Excited, joyful, freed up! No matter how jaded I become, no matter the various life pressures, this kind of thing always feels like a reward, an unwieldy present to be opened. There's always treasure, hiding below the layers of wine slushies, lawn ornaments and neon-colored Warholalikes. You may maintain your ideas of where the best art is and dismiss all other regions (the fair is actually four fairs glommed together), but for treasure hunting, one must be open and far-reaching. Far-walking.

And here I was, walking along to meet Compatriot (who I haven't mentioned in forever, but who is the perfect Art Fair fellow attendee -- we travel well, we overhear well, we investigate and muse). And here, suddenly, was an old friend from a former life, exclaiming in my path! She can't understand people who hate this*, she arrived at 7 AM**, parked just like that, dwelled over an hour long breakfast at Afternoon Delight and now at 11, she felt done for the day. We were pleased with ourselves and exchanged brief chatter about unknown children (my toddler, her grandchild, about the same age), and happily parted ways. Mildly discombobulating, but a fine start to (my experience of) the fair, nevertheless.

Highlights:

Tina Leto (booth #A152): Gorgeous black and white plant photography. Simple and stunning. Savvy lower price points -- I mean way lower -- am tempted by her wee $25 prints, which one could easily center in a pre-made shadow box or floating frame; small sleek tin of 20 (? maybe) shots together at $150. The subtitle of her photography business card lists Alley, Garden, Prairie, which appeals to me somehow. They all have equal footing, these plants, regardless of categorization. Again: search for the treasure, right? We talked toddlers -- she affectionately described her granddaughter as "a demon child" -- and it's obvious, Leto's a pistol. I imagine she'd be a fun drinking companion. She most definitely has stories.

Back home, it was interesting to see a wealth of journalistic photography on her website -- Romania, small town America, portraiture. All this documentation of "moments in time" exist in stark contrast to the timeless, sleek visuals of her plant photography. On Day Two, I asked her how about the shift. She raised her eyebrows, half-shrugged: "Ehhh? What happened, I turned 50. I don't know." Also on day two, the fair jurors came around with a foam-core sign about her winning an Excellence Award. She waved it at the artist next door, "See? I wasn't lying." She returns inside the booth: "I exclaimed a lot when I heard they were awarding me, everyone around here probably heard it." 

Amanda Outcalt (/Out of Print) (booth #A260): 2D, mixed media with a strong emphasis on intaglio, drawing, painting. Self portraits, circus elephants, fish hooks, and polka-dotted sheep. Magical realism, no unicorns. Website here plus rich instagram.

"Putting Out Fires"

She also teaches art to kids K-5, so she often feels like she's handling mini crises -- "Everything gets so big for them, like from the outside you think it's something that doesn't matter much, but they have a huge reaction, so that's the title (at right). You just try to help them to a better place and sometimes something good comes out of it, that's why you have the balloons."

Outcalt, a first timer to the show, also won an Excellence award.

Emily Howard, a/k/a The Diggingest Girl (booth B4003): Talented and groovy, Howard balanced visitor chatter with restocking, and carving a Frida Kahlo linocut. She is an art school graduate with not one-but-two masters! (I keed, I keed --> a sensible pairing of MFA and arts education), who came into printmaking relatively late in her arts schooling. She took a class in 2006, liked it; and dove into printmaking on a more professional level in 2009. She said she always knew she wanted to do the art fair circuit, which I had every intention of asking about, because it seems so incredibly difficult to me, but different strokes. Why did she opt for prints over other media? "Practical reasons, actually. I love painting and sculpture, but those are hard to lug around; and I want to create beautiful things for people, that more people can afford, so that's prints." To me, that's 500 point answer**** 

"Gwendolyn,"

I like how "Gwendolyn" calls up Love & Rockets characters and Ghost World. I'm also a sucker for a nice herringbone pattern. Who's Gwendolyn?












 


Extra Credit
In my alternate, wealthy life, I'd send my personal shopper to Booth B2023 to fetch glittering, mesmerizing mosaics from the Canadian transplant with the best name your mouth has spoken in a long time. Check out Giampietro Filippetti's work here. If you aren't going to the art fair, the photos are probably the best you'll see, though they fall woefully short, since you can not walk back and forth, back and forth, to watch the tiles glitter in the light. Just shy of magical.

*I can, I used to work retail in its midst.
**the fair opens at 10AM
***Not redeemable for cash, not translateable to other real-world usage. But you know, gold star.

Memory Now!

I took these photos a couple days ago, as I was backing out of our driveway to go erranding. The shots aren't great, but the moment held the quality of a vivid dream: a memory in the making. At first, Oyo was grave, but then she waved vigorously, moments before I got my phone in hand. Later on, I was simultaneously dismayed and satisfied by their blurry faces. Two of the most central figures in my life, clearly defined from a distance, surrounded in all directions by light and shadow, at the center of the path. And so tiny, that little being! Next to her father, letting her set the pace; and the three of us together, connected by our gaze.

inevitably twigs and stones win out

In her great memoir Hold Still, photographer Sally Mann charged photography with "impoverish[ing] your memory...sort of take[s] away all other senses"; elsewhere, she positioned her medium as untrustworthy, capable of rewriting the experience. Is it inevitable that great art is equally capable of capturing the essence of people/events in a given moment in time and of manipulation, rewriting? Photography does seem especially suited. Her sentiment certainly goes deeper than the snapshots above, but the odd sensation of...feeling nostalgic for something as it's happening? left me grasping at straws.

On the other end of the spectrum from our continual, casual documentation (/rewriting) with our phones, I hereby offer you some of my recent favorite vintage photos. I picked these up on my first visit to the glorious King's Books in Detroit. The photos were jumbled into boxes, as such items usually are, and it can feel a little depressing that their images have come to this -- did their family branches die off? Or just knowledge of them? My own family history is relatively hazy even a couple generations back, though my sister did a wonderful job researching our genealogy a few years back -- life just continues on, so full, so quickly -- how is their space to keep it all alive? But maybe it's exactly the mystery of these images that is so appealing, paired with the fact that family photography was such a special event.
The first one to suck me into the jumbled boxes:

Proper but spirited! Wry sense of humor?

Award for sweetest baby goes to...

Flouffy collars!

A rarity: name on back -- Billy Galbraith

Bonus

Actually a postcard. Even if staged, I love it.

I Am a Precision Piece of Power Equipment, Not a Plaything.

Well! After what seemed like a full year of hustle, worrisome developments and many-projects-jammed-into-short-timeframes, it's possible I'm dipping a toe into calmer waters. Maybe a shallow pool, possibly leeches or wee baby alligators, but just right now, the prospects are chill. Silky surface, dainty little ripple. Yesterday and Saturday were low-planning, events-flowing-together affairs. This morning I brought chocolate cupcakes in to work and tomorrow evening I'm going to test drive a promising used car. And wouldn't it be swell if I could tick that off my list? It would, truly. My one-and-only sounds louder and more grating every time I drive it. I approach it gingerly, as if a sudden move could spook it permanently from operation. So: collective fingers crossed, alright?

Saturday I hunched over the front sidewalk, clipping back the creepers from either "bed," which have been creating their own sidewalk carpet for the past six weeks or so. I can't really describe it as weeding -- since more plant inhabitants were weeds than not -- so it seemed a bit drastic and misguided to try to eradicate them. But at the least, I was revealing my sidewalk. Exposing it to the sun. Earlier on I walked around the yard, picking up sticks in preparation for using the new lawn mower. How often will you read this from me? NOT very often at all and thank goodness, I'm falling asleep as I type. ANYway, point being, I felt nicely dutiful, despite the fact that this was the tiniest tip of yard work I should be doing. But! Doing it. I clipped the vines climbing up the lamp post and yanked them from the glassed-in light enclosure (which has never worked). Look at me! Behold, I am domestic. A neighbor from down the way pulled into my drive. He looks like Santa, if Santa had radical politics, drove a Ram truck, donned overalls and had a lush garden. He has a great wicked sense of humor and a suitably droll expression.

"So how's that new lawn mower?" He smirks at me.

"Oh! You know, It's good. I'm sure it's great." Yes, my grass is long and yes, I have a new mower. But Saturday was the day! I was just working up to it.

"Uh hunh. Would you like me to set it up for you?"

"Oh!" The moment he says that, it seems lovely. There is no reason he should set up my mower. It is easy.

"Do you have gas?" He grins at me.

"Yes, I just bought some. You don't have to set up my mower! I was reading the manual just this morning." There is no reason whatsoever he should be setting up my mower. I am able bodied and of sound mind. "Apparently you shouldn't drink and then mow the lawn. Also, you can hold a piece of paper up to help determine how steep the incline is.**"

"...welll...I know you have mower avoidance."

"You shouldn't encourage me in my~~"

"~~indolence?" I hang my head and laugh. "I'll set it up on Monday, mow your lawn and then you're good. I can see if I want to buy the model you got." A lovely deal, to be sure.  

**Additional Considerations for your Mowing Endeavors

• {Read sternly} This machine is a precision piece of power equipment, not a plaything. Therefore, exercise extreme caution at all times. This machine has been designed to perform one job: to mow grass. DO not use it for any other purpose. {you freaking self-mauling idiots, rules were created for a reason***}.
•  Wear steel-toed shoes.
• Mow only in day light or good artificial light. 
• {As we all know, but still carries menace:} Tall grass can hide obstacles.

***Okay, my all-time favorite warning on this score was for a chainsaw: "Do not operate near genitals." Indeed.

My poor little princessy hand got tired from the clippers, so I shifted to pulling ivy from the brick walls in the backyard. I could lie and say I finished. Woohoo, task done! But No. I got bored and wilty and decided a nap was the choice route before meeting up with friends for dinner. I may have poured over this gorgeous coffee table book of Gianni Berengo Gardin photography before retiring. Hard life, eh? I knew nothing of this photographer's work before seeing the volume on display at the library. And I have been bogarting it ever since. Glorious slices of life, with all the grittiness and happenstance beauty and wonder; and wonder often unrealized by the photographic subjects, in the moment. I love how something as compact as a book can remind you of how plentiful richness is and how you never know when you may next encounter it~~

Outside, off an on for the past half hour, someone a few streets over is setting off their personal firework display. Initially a young child screamed/wailed after each burst and crack, before an adult found her and issued reassurances. Following that, there was an audible field of grievously wounded children beyond my study window, as they took turns belting out Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!???!!!!s, death throes, and moans that slowly unspooled as they surrendered to their firework wounds.

Once again, time for bed. This wasn't the post I set down to write, but it often isn't. Best wishes for a Good Week.