Expletive Newbies, Art Oggling, a Finished Woodblock

Last night was the perfect cap to end a progressively-more-frustrating week. Yesterday even included a pity call to my Mom, wherein I ranted and she took my side against the more problematic aspects of the universe, before saying,"I wish I could just hug you! I wish I could just rub your back." She usually mourns the lack of physical presence, though as you know, it was the listening and the rallying that were comforting, bolstering.

Separately, there are much larger, more stressing items within life which are leading my Mom to actually curse. While I have followed in my Dad's cursing footsteps, my Mom is more liable to angrily exclaim, "Ohhhhh...Heck!" Yesterday, she queried, "You know what I think that is?? Baloney! It's just baloney!!" I agreed with her, because the circumstances are absolutely outrageous.

"It's...bull!...It's...bullshit!" Perhaps baloney no longer cuts it, given the events. Either way, I am in total agreement. Life can be over-the-top, often in less-than-pleasing ways.*  She helped me feel like I was cool with getting off the couch again, so I shifted my attention to an evening of drinks and sushi with Compatriot.

*One of Virginia Woolf's underlying themes in her literature was the inadequacies of language to truly convey experience, which I often come back to; she clearly loved language and the mind's internal narrative making abilities...though being nice and depressing, she was also exploring that in connection with what she perceived to be our faulty ability to connect with others.

Compatriot was first to arrive in the basement cave of Melange and when I arrived somewhat out of breath from running a few blocks**, peeved by the zipperhead which had just broken off from my favorite sparkly spangled sweater, and still kerfuffled from the day. I began volleys of over-sharing. "Sit down," Compatriot laughed at me, "I ordered a few starter rolls because we're getting close to the end of happy hour." She is fond of duck, so it wasn't surprising she ordered the duck nachos.*** I'd say these were the best tidbit of the evening -- wonderful melange (ow! sorry) of flavors, textures.

Our waiter was tops -- delivering strong service, with the added bonus of being quite an interesting conversationalist. He grew up in Northampton, MA (home to Smith College), in the same valley where I went to Hampshire College, has formed a still operating independent acting/theater company and is currently studying film making. Compatriot noted something along the lines of directing needing to involve lots of ego wrangling and ensuring that production moves forward in spite of all the ongoing background drama; she combined that with the drama and human wrangling (not her word) involved in retail and restaurants. He heartily agreed and said he planned on dovetailing all the skills he has cultivated through waiting into film direction. May the wind be always at his back!

*Oh good lord, I need to start running again. Stamina, people. A good thing to develop. Geez.

*** From the menu: Duck confit glazed in hoisin and served on a crispy wonton chip. Topped with manchego cheese, guacamole, fresh tomato and sriracha sour cream." 

The martinis kicked in, we gloried over our maki and talked about substantial and fluffy things. One of us was usually tossing out something silly or borderline obnoxious when waiter stopped by; sometimes he popped into the conversational flow, other times, he glided an empty plate away. She enthused over "The Anderson Project," put on by Ex Machina, a fascinating one man show riffing on Hans Christian Anderson and themes of alienation, sexuality...I am sorry, Comp, I'm butchering this. Readers, you should just talk to her: she's extremely articulate and insightful. Sounded like the technology used for the performance was fantastic: lots of the stage sets were purely projection -- the character is seated in a train, with images of the receding landscapes and pole repetitions marking the passing distance and time. The train lights morph into strobe lights (right? or am I making this up, too?) to signal his entry into a dance club. In any case, if this performance comes your way, sounds like one worth checking out! 

Afterward, we popped into WSG Gallery to peek at the opening exhibit, oggle the newest works by favorite local artists and have the pleasure of chatting with them as well. One artist urged me again to come check out her studio and this time I vowed it would happen. And really, what kind of a lovely life is this? That you get the opportunity to bond with people over their creativity, that they invite you into their lives, just as you do so with them? I really, really love it. No tinge of irony here. 

On that tip,here are a few process shots for the latest block. I am going to pull prints tomorrow, yay!

The first inking is always the moment of truth.

I hope you don't mind if I call you a gaffer~~

At first I thought I wanted to write a blog post. But apparently what I need to do is to listen to "Mr. Dobalina" repeatedly and dance around in my chair. Even when I time my hunting and pecking to the beats, the going is slow (but jaunty!) and the chair wheels work just a little too well. It really would be sad if I gave myself a concussion because I couldn't quite be bothered to *stand* and dance. Especially when I managed to avoid one when I did the downhill faceplant a couple weeks ago. Tempting fate. One of the YouTube suggestions is Snow, Informer. Hahaha! Ahh, cassingles. Okay, one more play and then I'm done.

So, with that less than illustrious lead-in, it's time for a few words about Barbara Yerace, local glass blower extraordinaire. Her educators include the Corning Museum of Glass and Pilchuck Glass School, among others; her work graces the DIA giftshop (schwanky!), the Ann Arbor Art Center and WSG Gallery. I especially like her jubilee vases. And it's a good thing that she has some online visibility, because the photos I tried to take at her studio were less than stellar... The thing is, I was gawking, somewhere between hyper about being there and hypnotized by the molten glass. Naturally, she was moving quickly and I'm just not much of a photographer. Here's a typical shot:

kind of makes you think of Cocteau Twins, doesn't it?

Meanwhile, she's a total pro, has been doing this for years; she inhabits her studio as you'd expect. Fluid focused movements. She shares the basic details of her art, so as not to overwhelm the complete novice; and asks about life doings. I have trouble stringing a narrative along, because really, I'd be happy to watch this for hours. I think my need to soak it in visually is impairing my ability to absorb any other information.

I mean yes, you have the furnace, with molten glass, then you have a second, smaller heat source that you use to keep your emerging shape flexible enough to work with; then comes hours in the annealer, ever so slowing bringing the glass to room temperature. Yes, I got that much. By the by, the auxiliary furnace is christened the glory hole. Not by Barbara, mind you, but by glass blowers in general. And apparently it's also a nautical and a mining term. One may also watch "Glory Hole Tips" from glassblowers on YouTube. It pretty much calls all 12 year old brains to rise up, leaving most anyone exclaiming, "What?? It is NOT called that" and snickering periodically.

I saw her second glory hole before I knowingly saw her first, since she gave me a walk-around tour of the studio before she settled into glassblowing (she has a teaching space on the second floor!); she gestured to one side, "Oh, that's my other glory hole."

"What. I-- What's it called??"

Naturally, she has had this exchange hundreds of times. Yes, really. "Seriously??"  Yes, I *know* right? That is *truly* what it's called. Once upon a time a reporter wrote up a visit to her studio and simply gave it another name. Sidestepping: accomplished.


Which was really my first intro to it. And though I didn't know what it was from the driveway, it was the wonderful orange glow of the glory hole that drew me down to the studio. Something almost magical to see, while walking through the rain, with all the deep green vegetation all around. That was photo-worthy, with a good photographer. In any case, most everybody gets stuck on the name.

Glory, glory. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Above photo in no way conveys the deep orange glow emanating from within. Which is *FANTASTIC.*

Some blowing.

Who uses them for their original purpose anymore?

These are the sorry battered remains of phonebooks, would you ever have known? She rolls the glass on them to cool slightly. They hiss and singe. Maybe I am inventing the hiss.

Magic crystals! glass granules to melt on the outside of the orb.

She will roll the molten glass over these tasty bits.

 

Here comes trouble!

Creating spiral patterns with old trusty needle nose pliers.

How's that for a way to spend an afternoon? Or a decade? Or a life? I can't help but feeling sometimes that people who make things with their hands, people who create things on a daily basis are some of the best people around. It was quite a treat -- maybe more glass afternoons in the future...

This was one of two ornaments hanging near her...auxiliary furnace. First a close up:

There's so much going on with this free-form bead! I love the swoopy black and mauve on the bottom half. And somehow at the top, my vary favorite part is that smaller orb of clear glass with the bubble inside (upper left). You can see other colors through it and yet it's almost like a resting place. A pause within the larger color play.

And then we have the whole ornament...

the ceramic bovine sees all.

Handy tip: If you're local, you're lucky. She's having an open house I *believe* on Sunday, November 20th. If it is a truly public affair, I'll update this with details...
  

Why Would You Buy Halloween Candy Early? You're Just Going to Eat It.

Between Valerie Mann's people-packed and impressive exhibit opening at WSG in Ann Arbor, followed by the equally packed Reclaimed opening in Wyandotte, Friday was a whirlwind of visual stimuli and conversation. For me, the WSG openings have morphed into this lovely, warm opportunity to reconnect with acquaintance/friends in the local art world and I would have happily spent the entire evening there...

 

Each interconnected evening gown that Valerie had sewn was different from the next. The roughness and text printed on the feed sack material was a great counterpoint to the cool elegance of the vintage pattern lines. The sack wording only appeared in choice parts of each garment and so avoided overkill. Periodic use of raw silk(?) provided lustrous highlights among the swaying beige forms.

I LOVE the detailing on this!

I brought my camera with to take snaps, but strongly suspected any of my attempts to capture the installation would be inadequate. I often bring my camera places, but then become shy about actually taking pictures and wind up with 5 photos that don't reflect the event in any way whatsoever. This evening was no different: I am ashamed to say that there's a photo of myself from the night, but not even one of the guest of honor!  And at River's Edge, I didn't remove it from my bag once -- even though I probably won't trek out there again during the show -- and several of the artists I wanted to meet where there. Last month, one of my favorite people advised me to just "be ruthless and amuse yourself." She wasn't taking a keen interest in my mediocre photography skills, but maybe I'll just apply it there.

No crowd shots, but I did snag two Barbaras: a talented glassblower and a Goethe-quoting bookmaker/paper artist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Isn't her necklace delicious? So rich and berrylike.

She offered to take my photo in return, because I was flitting about in the dress my Mom sewed for my junior prom. Hahaha! I thought I'd get ironic/jeering comments about it at the next destination, but no, women stopped me with compliments, on the sidewalk and as I walked past them at the bar after the Reclaimed show. No ironic armor needed!

Yes, I stepped inside the exhibit. Friend privilege. I also touched one of her sculptural purses. They kind of invite it. Or so some would say. Wow, I'm really not good with limiting for captions, hunh.

Kicky pattern paintings. They are so pleasing, grouped together like that!

 

See? What you can't tell from the photos: people everywhere, more formal wear, both serious and campy; wayyy more to the exhibit and the other exhibit spaces, Val's daughter crawling underneath one of the dresses as a shortcut to rejoin her friends, good conversationalists spied across the room that I had no chance to pounce on before leaving...

I can't really do the Reclaimed show justice -- or maybe not at this point in the evening anyway. Overall, the quality was really high: the pieces were variously cool, intriguing, kerazzzy-intricate, or confidently simple and slick. Especially appreciated, after the long drive! And man, the 12 mile stretch of Eureka is U-G-L-Y: strip joints and chains that I thought had gone under decades ago. Plus several guys in pickups looking over at red lights: bizarre. I have no sense of the area outside of that, just the last leg of the drive itself felt odd.

So, Boom! I almost walk past the River's Edge, it is packed to the gills with art, but not in your staid gallery way. More gritty/urban/hipster. Another opening was happening upstairs, plus more gallery space on the third floor. Reclaimed was just to the left of the entry way, all the artwork hung in close quarters. I was excited to be able have a few "How did you DO that??" conversations and a couple times that was directed my way as well, which was gratifying. I could basically shout-out most of the folk that Perfect Laughter has already profiled, but that would be silly.

Ryan Weiss, of the postcard, was sweet and quite engaged with his art. I asked him about the significance of the houses and he said that when he first started doing them, a couple of his friends had actually just lost theirs. "So, I don't know, it was kind of like, the more I made these, the more people would have houses. That's kind of naive, silly~" This is the gist of what he said, not a direct quote. And he was wasn't being gormless. I get it : I find it almost impossible not to take things symbolically at times. And isn't that kind of perfect symbolism? And a wonderful impulse? I like it.

A handful of us grabbed a couple beers at the boringly named Sports Brew Pub. Tip: if you're ever out that way, definitely try their brews! Their weiner dog stout was as rich and full-bodied as a stout should be --  and the fruit flavors within the cherry ale perfectly balanced the beer. Stongly recommended.


The rest of the weekend I was hermitty. Last gasp for getting things ready for next Sunday's Art on the Farm! Somewhat productive, somewhat trudgy. I did a few more wood panels with print snippets:

Unlikely saint. First attempt at a halo. Maybe should have gone with red.

this came out a bit different than I meant, but could be interesting

My favorite part is actually the side.

So that's about all in that department. Card snippets all over the sofa, framed prints leaning all over each other in the living room, for the hospital show.

I eventually ventured outside to bag the leaf piles I raked up yesterday (no neighborhood kids eyeing my yard for leaves this time around). I didn't anticipate seeing anyone, what with the dinner hour, Not that I *didn't* want to see anyone, but I definitely was in my not-leaving-the-house attire. One friendly acquaintance strolled past, carrying his little boy; grandmother, in tow. I see him and his family maybe once a year. We chatted for a few minutes.  After a few exchanges, his son couldn't hold it in any longer: "I have a TRAIN set!!" We paused to contemplate that. I praised him for it and noted that my Dad, who takes pictures of trains, would LOVE that he has a train set. He nodded, happily.  His Dad asked whether I was doing any art, which enabled me to bring up the hospital exhibit again (how can this NOT be anticlimactic? Because I'm rawther excited and it's not like there's an opening.)

A few moments pass. "*I* have finger paints!!" Oh, that's great, I say. "You have paint on your pants," he adds. Yes, I agree, that's true: "Because I was also painting, earlier today." He nods, but gazes at the multi-hued pants. "But I don't have a train set," I add. At this, his face takes on a somber cast.

"Well!" says his Grandmother,"You can't have it all!"

True, I agree, true. Somehow, I'm holding it together without the Lionels.

Candy tip: "fun size" more fun when doubled or tripled.

Reclaimed Count Down!...And Bunnies Shall Rule the Countryside

Perfect Laughter has been quite good at posting features about the fellow artists who will be in their curated "Reclaimed" exhibit. Initially, I just loved playing around with mixed media for it. Here are the other pieces I affixed to wood panels, but did not use for the show. I think I'll bring them to Art on the Farm at the end of October:

Now, I'm also super geeked to check out all the other artwork! Take, for example: 

• Stunning -- and hot -- woodblock by Taro Takizawa. It blows me away. See also. 
• Strong graphic design goodness from Jeremiah Britton
• Super-cool process shots on the great mixed media piece by Ryan Weiss, which Christina and Dennis put on the exhibit postcard. Check out a related piece here, one little house, one little inverted tree.
• There's a trippy, atmospheric collage of screenprints from Megan Frauenhoffer. Check out her body of work here.

Opening reception is on Friday Oct. 21st at the River's Edge Gallery in Wyandotte, MI.

It will be a busy night, as Valeria Mann's solo installation is also opening at the WSG Gallery in Ann Arbor. Her Fortunes installation at the same gallery is one of my favorite installations ever -- see some snaps here, but they don't adequately convey the feeling that exhibit did. As you walk through all the hanging rows of baby gowns, they brush your shoulders. The delicate old garments, holding such a variety of grim and hopeful messages embroidered in red thread, wonderfully called up all the lives around us -- and how the potential lives, even at their beginnings -- or especially at their beginnings -- are already so tied to class, adult outlooks and expectations...Her new exhibit is titled Evening Gowns for the Midwestern Woman. Attendees are encouraged to show up in evening gowns/prom dresses/etc.