Will Art Make You Sicker?

I recently missed a class at SpaceTaker for selling and marketing one’s artwork to the medical community.  It was entitled Art Consulting for the Healthcare Industry.  It makes sense that a company, Skyline Art Services, exists in Houston and that providing art to the healthcare industry is a focal point.  No one really wants to stare at boring white walls and coughed all over magazines while sitting in a doctor’s office.  Why not have something to focus on, while trying to distract yourself from the giant needle coming your way?

I missed it, so I’m a bit bummed, partially because the concept sounds interesting, partially because it could be a lucrative way to make money while doing something I mostly like.  Let me rephrase, make enough money to occasionally eat out while wearing relatively well-made, pretty clothes, without concerning myself with scrounging for loose change in old purses in order to pay for it.  Not that I could make a steady income painting pictures and creating sculpture for hospitals, but it would be significantly more money than I would otherwise earn from “creating just for art’s sake.”  Or some such drivel that really means, “I display my art in my living room.”

What mostly got me interested is that the artwork in my GP’s office, looks to be painted by a first year student of the Michael’s School of Art.  Heavy thick acrylic.  Perspectives are a bit askew.  Colors are mostly hideously wrong.  Shadows and shading are illogical.

Why would he or she fuss with details when the overall scope is so wrong?  Can he/she not see the world around them?

Michael’s School of Art student makes it seem attainable, displaying art.

The Dancing Interview

I watched The Red Shoes recently.  I hoped it would inspire me.  It didn’t.  I’m not a dancer; the movie didn’t speak to me as I hoped it would.  It brought me back to the musical that led me to it, A Chorus Line.

Specifically, it tugged me back to one entire song and the last verse of another.  “I Can Do That” and the final verse of “I Hope I Get It.”  Same musical, completely different sentiments.

A Chorus Line revolves around different dancers trying out for a Broadway musical, which has no leads.  All manners of dancers, singers, and actors vie for spots of mediocrity in the chorus.  In the final round, the director has the remaining dancers, sing and dance their answer to that horrid question, “So, tell me about yourself.”  A few women cite The Red Shoes in their answers, which led me to The Red Shoes.  Not being able to sit through the entire movie and searching for a job led me to the aforementioned songs.

I suppose I should take a step to the left or right to extricate myself from this vicious circle.  The lyrics to the songs, however, keep me suspended.  Pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling.  Not really in a chorus line, rather vying to hope to get into a chorus line.  Even in Sheboygan if it comes to that.  Wisconsin?

Not Another Tutu

I recently battled procrastination and learnt a valuable lesson: procrastination is good.  I should have given in to my gut.  Not in a heartburn sort of way, rather an inner eye sort of…sight.  My subconscious was kicking and screaming at me like an angry, thinks she knows everything fifteen year old woman-child.

About a year ago (a year and a day minus three weeks and four days), I decided to explore the selling world of crafting on Etsy.  I set up my own page (I’ve long-since forgotten my login and password—whoopsie), and proceeded to research items to make and sell.  I came up with a list and began to make idea number one on that list.  I got bored.  They were pretty, but I was too bored with the craft.  It involved embroidery and napkins.

After a six month “regrouping break,” I moved on to idea number two on the list.  I bought about $18 worth of tulle, which sat in a bag hanging from a closet door handle for three months, then hung on the other side of the door for another month.  A week ago, I made the skirt.  It took roughly three hours of constant cutting and knotting tulle strips onto a strand of ribbon while watching a quirky British movie, “High Heels and Low Lifes.”

Then I logged onto Etsy to see if I should post it.

My tulle is back in the closet in its newly altered state.  There were far too many tutus listed.  Most of them listed for about $65.  I’d have to market my page until just before the end of time, in order to be found.  Then the cost of crafting labor would amount to around $13.50 per hour.  Not so bad for just sitting there and knotting tulle while watching Minnie Driver attempt to blackmail Michael Gambon.  But it shouldn’t be so time-consuming, this crafting and marketing.

I need a cheaper craft; one that doesn’t take eons to create.

Pop-up greeting cards?  Suede cuffs?  And so I hurtle towards year two of “craft-selling experiment.”

W Anderson, Master Soundtracksmith

I just spent several hours writing, and I’ve had an epiphany.  I really like Wes Anderson’s soundtracks.  I knew this before, but really, it’s just hit me.  And not just his soundtracks, but I can easily listen to his movies, while writing, and not get terribly distracted.  They’re calming and contemplative without being whiney.  In my experience, this is a huge fete.  I can’t relate to sappy singer-songwriter veined music, so this is a huge accomplishment as far as I’m concerned.

His soundtracks, both music and auditory gaffing of the movie, are…well, pleasant.  They don’t awaken the snarky monster within that gets annoyed with bands such as Interpol and Tori Amos.  Any bands with the word: black, keys, or feeble in their name.

Most likely I can easily tune out the movies, as I’ve seen them an endless number of times, but I don’t imagine that is the entire reason.  I wouldn’t be able to tune out Pretty in Pink or M.A.S.H in the same way.  Floating in and out of the story, getting lost in the music.

Is it a testament to his film-making skills?  His devotion to movie making?  This apparent love of sound, as well as story?  It is all very multi-media, in the strictest studio art sort of way.  As if he’s adding watercolor to his lithograph.  I wonder if he writes music, or if he solely sculpts music into his story.

It would drive me mad; my musical knowledge is finite.  Beyond the scope of many, but still, finite.

Twig Bouquet

I don’t like faux flowers, but buying fresh flowers (or stealing them from a person a few streets over’s front yard) can get expensive and time-consuming.  Too many decisions involved.  What type?  Do I continue getting the same flower?  What if the new season’s flowers don’t match my decor?  Do I replace the stolen flowers with some sort of thank you gift?

My solution is either peacock feathers or twigs.  Not so traditional and they don’t require water.  Both are organic and natural, so there’s no need to worry about “perfection.”

This is a fairly simple concept: wrap embroidery floss around twigs and stick them in a vase.  Really, the hardest parts of this exercise are finding twigs that aren’t muddy and are mildly interesting.  The knots are a bit tedious, but not terribly so.

Supplies:

• Twigs (I used Oak twigs from a park)
• embroidery floss
• scissors
• wax (to seal untamed bits of floss that may stick out at odd angles)

Directions

1. Get an idea of how many twigs you’ll use by arranging unwrapped ones in your vase.  Think, “I’m arranging a bouquet of flowers,” if it helps.
2. Carefully take the twigs out and begin wrapping.
3. Tie a sailor’s knot, and cautiously begin wrapping the floss; hold the short end of the floss flush against the branch and wrap it under the “coils.”  There will obviously be many imperfections in the wood, so just compensate as you go.  If you add different colors next to each other, knot the two ends of floss together and wrap under the new coils.
4. The end knots are a bit tricky; don’t over think them.  A simple knot where you tuck one end under a coil, then add a knot in the single strand of floss.  Trim.
5. The how much and color changes and where to wrap is up to you.  Some suggestions, you query?  Vary where you add color to give a more random look.  Add green towards the bottom of the stems and colors on the tips.  Gauge roughly the “center bottom” of your arrangement and add the same color pattern.  Run wild.
6. Arrange in your vase.  You may have to add more floss (or take some away).  Fix, then rearrange.

fin.

All Tomorrow’s Bauhaus Parties

“Play becomes party-party becomes work-work becomes play,” was the original backbone of The Bauhaus School.  When the school was fun, when it created and produced Avant Garde art, and encouraged free-thinking, creativity, and daring.  Johannes Itten (1919-1929), impressed this upon his students.  While, Walter Gropius, the early school director, alluded to it in the Bauhaus Manifesto.  “Theater, lecture, poetry, music, costume balls.”  These tenets bore the freest flow of creativity, the Bauhaus Parties.

Gropius believed that gatherings, whether they be spontaneous poetry readings, lectures from visiting artists, theatre productions, costume parties, or major parties should be approached as a complete artistic expression.  They were vital to the school cohesively working, learning, and creating together.

The school, students and professors alike, created lithographs, and then printed postcards and posters for main parties.  They also created costumes, sets, interiors, and decorations for the parties and gatherings.

Central at the parties, was the Bauhaus Jazz Band, which was begun and led by Andor Weininger.  He attended Bauhaus to study painting, however upon graduating, was asked by Gropius to handle public relations.  He soon became the head of the unofficial “fun department,”  and formed the band.

The four main parties at Bauhaus in Weimer were: Drankenfest (The Kite Festival), The Lantern Party, Summer Solstice, and Christmas Dinner.  Each were major productions, and all but the Christmas Dinner, were meant to bring the residents of Weimer and the students of Bauhaus closer.

Drankenfest was held during the day.  Some students dressed in outlandish costume, but all designed and constructed outlandish kites.

The Lantern Party, although initially meant to celebrate the sixtieth birthday of a local poet on June 21st, it later served as Gropius’ birthday party on May 18th.

Summer Solstice was also held during the day.  In 1922, Paul Klee made several hand puppets and enacted a puppet theatre.  The puppets, made for his son Felix, were fabricated from objects around his house such as bristle brushes and bits of fur and shell.

The Christmas dinner was a lavishly simple decorated event.  A large green pine tree, surrounded by white presents for his students.  A large table next to it beautifully laid.  Gropius read the Christmas story, then served everyone their meal.

Two other significant parties where The Metal Party and The Beard, Nose, and Heart Party.  The Metal Party, held on February 9, 1929 brought forth the schools fascination with the machine age.  Everyone wore metal, from foil to pots and pans.  The attendees entered the party by sliding down a chute, then were created by a great noise of metal, The Bauhaus Jazz band, and theatre productions.  The Beard, Nose, and Heart Party was held on March 31, 1928 and organized by the Bauhaus Jazz Band.

Although the school had three homes during its short fourteen year history, the parties and social occasions tied the school together.  When free thinking and Avant-Garde art was in danger of being quashed by a narrow-mindedly strict German regime, time was made to celebrate and create art.

School’s NOT Out for Summer

I’ve been considering going back to school…again.  Certainly not full time, but perhaps part time, and for art.  Not really to gain a new degree, but just as a refresher and to re-evaluate my knowledge.  To pick up a few things that I missed on the first go round, and to learn a few media that I didn’t really have time to explore while “in school,” as it were.

In Houston there are many options for such evaluations, but I am focussing on either Glassell or Houston Community College.

The main criteria that I am using to make my decision are as follows: cost, quality of teachers and attention given to students, quality and variety of materials and equipment, networking leads, diversity of portfolio-worthy material pieces, and courses offered.

Not that I’ve made an ultimate decision, be it cost or prejudicial vanity, I believe I am going with the most cost-effective, Houston Community College.  To satisfy my frame of mind, however, I’ll mildly explore my guidelines listed above.

1. Cost: HCC classes run $175 each, with anywhere from $0-$100 material fees.  They offer financial aid, including Pell Grants.  Glassell classes run $400, or $330 for art history, with material fees ranging from $10-$130.  They offer financial aid based on quality of work; not offered to new students.
2. Quality of Teachers and Attention Given to Students: I feel this is hit or miss.  You get what you put into the experience.  Rather, I’m relying on this idealism.  Teachers are teachers no matter where they are.  The quality of knowledge they impart should not be luck-luster because they are teaching at a community college, or stellar because they are teaching at a school affiliated with a museum.  As a point of mental reference, I’ll use myself.  I had a pretty lousy job for some time.  It was a bit menial and I certainly wasn’t educated specifically for the tasks I performed, I was overeducated (and a bit too witty for it, in my ego-inflated opinion).  And was paid next to nothing for the dedication and quality.
3. Quality and Variety of Materials and Equipment: Neither campus is going to have equipment as high quality as my alma mater, and it wasn’t the vanguard of the art community.  I survived.  Without really exploring both facilities, I’m not going to be able to use this as a true deciding factor either way.  HCC could have some great funding that has afforded the art department state of the art equipment.  However, a hunch tells me that Glassell would win this category, perhaps losing a few points for not having a cone 10 kiln.  (That’s just an assumption on my part, however.)
4. Networking Leads: The Glassell is meant to be a transitory education facility for students who have just graduated with BAs and BFAs; I assume there are many connections to be made with the Houston art community there.  How invasive and intricately woven these tendrils extend are key in determining the issue of cost.  This isn’t really a setback, per se, rather it would save considerable time and make marketing art via myself a bit easier.  Regardless of the internet, via Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Yelp, and a few other sites, making networking a bit easier, it comes at a price: mental exhaustion.  Glassell often displays their student’s work, with a publicized exhibit towards the end of the year.  HCC offers juried shows of exceptional works, so they too, are not to be merely tossed out with the trash.
5. Diversity of Portfolio-worthy Pieces:  Yes, I know.  Focusing on the big marketing picture takes something away from the journey and experience and education gained.  I could step upon a soapbox and lead the masses in a heart-rending, five-part harmonied ode.  I won’t.  That’s not why I’m here, although I’m a bit embarrassed to show my slip in such a vulgar manner.  Essentially, a new, updated portfolio would be nice to have.  I could do this on my own, but I’d be limited to the types of media that I could include.  I just don’t have the space or know-how to build a gas kiln in my mom’s back yard.
6. Courses Offered: HCC offers a few standard art classes.  I’ve taken all of the basics required, but technically (as mentioned in their flyer) I can attend any class without taking the pre-requisite.  Glassell offers a wide range of courses, some of them exceptionally specific to a branch of art (Gold-leafing, for example).  Most of these require pre-requisites.  While this in-depth approach leads to a more well-rounded education, it does seem a bit daunting.  Also, shouldn’t these topics be addressed in the general class for its subject, allowing the student to explore at his or her own leisure?  I believe if I tire of HCCs courses (2- and 3-D Design, Drawing, Painting, Life Drawing, Sculpture, Print-making, Fibers, Metals, Ceramics, Digital Art, Photography, and Watercolor), perhaps then I could explore subjects such as Bookbinding at Glassell.

Perhaps I should explore previously unlisted Option #7: Research Facilities.  Speak with an advisor in the art department of HCC and Glassell…and hopefully explore their facilities.

Concert T-Shirt Draping

Back in the 1980s, concert t-shirts came in the most unforgiving of sizes.  Mens.  If you wanted to wear one, you had to get XL and sleep in it.  It is just the way things worked back then.  Towards the 1990s, t-shirt stands started offering children’s and men’s.  This worked slightly better.  The length was correct, they fit across the shoulders, but they were still pretty boxy…and they cut something fierce across the chest.  Thankfully as the 2000s rolled around, women’s sizes were offered.  The prices are almost twice the cost of the big boxy mens shirts of the 80s, but at least they are cut to fit women.

I have an entire trunk of ill-fitting hair metal concert t shirts that not only never fit, are now also stretched oddly due to being tied in a knot at my lower back.  Some even have the necks cut into more flattering boat necklines.

Thanks to the past seven years’ popularity with deconstruction of t-shirts and menswear tops in general, “everylady” can become a seamstress.  Actually, this is womenswear and technically it involves draping, so let me rephrase, “everylady” can become a draper.

If you know the basics of pinning and sewing (by hand), if you’ve ever taken in the waistline of a skirt, or cut that nasty, confining neckband out of a t-shirt, you too can become a t-shirt draper.  It took just under two hours to turn my 1989 Skid Row tour t-shirt from a tent into a flattering, ironic top, and I didn’t really have a clue what I was doing.

Here’s what you’ll need:

• T-shirt that is one or more sizes too big
• Scissors
• Needle
• Thread
• Straight Pins
• Knit top that is tailored/fits well (takes into account that women have hourglass figures)

Instructions:

1. Cut the sleeves off.  Follow along the outside of the stitching.  If it has Raglan sleeves, cut the sleeves just past the shoulder (we’re going for capped-sleeves here)
2. Cut the neckline into a boat neckline.  Fold the t-shirt in half, front side on top, and do your best to cut symmetrically.  Use the point just under the crewneck band in front as the “depth” of the cut.  I use an inch in a half to two inches as the point of the “width.”
3. Try the shirt on inside out to gauge the size of the neckline.  If you’re satisfied, wonderful.  If the hole is too small, cut a tad wider.  If it is too big, pin the neckline “widths” to where you want them to hit.  Pin across the tops at a slight angle across the sleeves, and essentially “shorten” your top.  See below.
4. Sew along the pins.
5. Once you’re happy with the neckline, THEN continue with the body, otherwise the waist isn’t going to hit in the correct place.
6. Place your “golly it fits me so well” t-shirt on top, and use it as a pattern.  Pin along the sides.  Since the arm holes fell outside of my top (but of course, the Skid Row t-shirt was giant), I stitched part of them, as well.  This fixed the “flapping in the wind, exposing by bra” issue I would have certainly faced.
7. Sew like the wind, just outside of the pin line.  I use a chain stitch because it is stronger, but you can also use a machine.  If you want to really do it properly, do a simple stitch, try it on.  Fix.  Re-stich. Then send it through the machine.  It’s up to you.
8. Once you are happy with the seams, cut the excess material.  It’s ready to wear.

For those of you concerned, knit t-shirts don’t run or un-fray, but they do roll up a smidge.  Keep this in mind when cutting the neckline, sleeves (if you don’t cut along the outside of seams), or if you cut the bottom of the shirt.  The roll will mask any mild mistakes, but it does shrink the cut part by about 1/4 to 1/2 an inch, or about an inch at the bottom of a shirt.  One additional trick I’ve learned through trial and error, is that if the boatneck is too large, you can always tuck the interior  edge underneath your bra straps.  It creates a clean line and stays relatively well put.

I now feel like I can wear the mildly hideous (let’s call it “Ironic”) Skid Row tshirt in public.  It’s actually quite cute now.

Glazed-Over

It seems daunting at first, making your own glaze, from scratch.  But really, it’s just like cooking or putting together a multi-ingrediented sauce.  Yes, imagine you are putting a nice sauce together for your about to be beautifully grilled salmon at a fancy dinner party.  Glaze is a pottery piece’s final decoration.  It should complement, without overpowering, the piece underneath.  Unless the piece is horrid and you’re masking, but that’s another story.

A month into my first ceramics class in college, each of the students in my class had to create two glazes; they were stored in Orange Home Depot 5 gallon painters cans, with our names written on masking tape.

As we were going to solely be firing to cone 10, my glaze options were limited to blacks, whites, clears, cobalts, bone, and very finicky celadons and red iron oxide mixtures.  Since the class had teacher-made vats of the first five (including a grey or teal), the majority of the class experimented with celadons and several hideous to one exceptionally magical iron oxide glaze.

In theory, iron oxide is exceptionally temperamental at temperatures over cone 8 (roughly 2250 degrees F).  It becomes volatile and needs to be reminded to stay put via a binding agent such as gum arabic.

This adds a new step to the glaze-making process.

I am a bit impatient; I did not wait the full day or two for the gum arabic to dissolve properly.  My red ran, as it were.  If I had been majoring in Chemistry, or Home Ec, I would have failed.  Actually due to the reduction in the cooling of the kiln (the amount of oxygen let into the kiln once the gas had been turned off), my glaze separated into its original color components somewhat.  Specs of deep cranberry and a few specs of cobalt pooled in areas of thicker glaze and the overall sheen of the piece is a bit pinkish.  It could have been much uglier.

The magical iron oxide glaze that a classmate made did not call for much gum arabic, plus they mixed it properly.  The parts of my bowl with the least amount of glaze (such as the lip) were pink which quickly bled into turquoise.

The celadons ranged from mint to amber to coke bottle glass.  No one really attained the true jade-like glaze, but we did have about eight versions of mediocre from which to choose.

As I began to develop a style, I would etch onto the leather hard clay (pre-first firing).  Then at bisque, I would wash with a watered-down oxide and dip in a mostly translucent glaze.  The process combined two of my favorite and one of my not so favorite things.  Drawing and sculpture…and then, final presentation with a temperamental media.  Thick glazes made by novice students.

Raku would have been so much more rewarding.

Newcomb Pottery

Southern foliage often goes unnoticed save for a handful of songs, a few romanticized novels’ depictions, and hardly ever represented in art.  While Lalique was searching for the beauty of the mundane in thistles and wasps, Newcomb College in the middle of Uptown New Orleans focussed on southern vegetation.

Spanish Moss hanging from Live Oaks.  Sugar Pines.  Phlox.  Pyracantha.  Renderings of flora from the artists’ own gardens.  Southern fauna was also depicted.  Birds, insects, and alligators.

The scenes were almost always early evening, with low moons hidden behind hanging spanish moss.  With the mattified final glazes, this created an undeniable feeling of thick evening humidity.  It amplified atmosphere.

Sophie Newcomb College was the women’s college at Tulane University.  It opened in 1886, forty-one years after Tulane opened its doors to men…only.  Newcomb College offered courses in Sciences, Languages, Literature, History, and Art.  The pottery division, mainly founded as a vocational workshop for women, opened in 1894 with the arrival of Mary Given Sheerer, an authority on pottery, from Rookwood Pottery in Cincinnati.

Sheerer’s focus was creating pottery from materials and nature in the surrounding area.  If I were to sully the concept and choose a present-day term, I suppose sustainable would be the best fit.

The clay was dug from a bayou near Lake Ponchetrain, then mixed with other elements in the surrounding area.  The glazes were developed at first by Sheerer, then beginning in 1910, by Paul Cox.  He introduced the distinctive matte glaze.  The most common colors are green, Newcomb Blue (think: muted, grayer Wedgwood), and cream.

Shortly after Cox’ arrival, Sheerer started teaching the low relief decorations.  With the matte finish, it creates slight variations in shadow on the otherwise flat colors.  Diffused light, and again, humid-feeling.

Between 1901-1915, Newcomb Pottery won eight international awards, bringing the college and its pottery into national attention.  Until the pottery studio’s closure in 1940, a piece of Newcomb Pottery became a standard wedding gift in New Orleans.  Yes, partially due to the studio’s growing popularity, but also because the pieces are beautiful.  The shape of the thrown piece, the clay, the glaze, the low relief of the decoration, and the decoration itself.  It was a usable piece of safe southern romanticism.  Chocolate Pots (for hot chocolate).  Vases.  Plates.  Candlesticks.  Canisters.

There are often three separate markings on the bottom of a Newcomb piece.  One designating it a Newcomb Piece, one by the potter who threw the pot, and one for the decorator.  As each piece was unique, this created a sense of exclusivity.  It was definitely a production and assembly line, but each piece was handmade and the designs were individually drawn for each piece.

Men threw, fired, and glazed the pottery, while women decorated.  Men did the manual labor, as women did the more gentle work.  This speaks to the separation of the sexes at the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, especially in a very southern town such as New Orleans.  While this is leaps and bounds closer to equality than even fifty years prior, there was still a giant chasm.

This issue plagued Newcomb College, and Tulane University, through the twentieth century.  During the 1940s, men’s enrollment declined due to WW2, necessitating a bigger presence of paying female students.  But it was not until the 1970s, that women finally gained full access to enrollment at Tulane University.

Newcomb College closed in 2006, following the unfortunate temporary closure and restructuring of Tulane due to Hurricane Katrina in 2005.