Damn Demanding Art Brain

Imagine my eyes wide open like this…

Yup. It’s been 24 hours or so of that. I might have slept a bit, but crazy nightmares of mud and blood and car accidents and disturbing imagery (I know, crazy, when you look at my drawings, but they have to come from SOMEWHERE, right?). And I think, what the hell were you doing last night? I went to an art opening (4th one in the same number of days?) and then I came home and ate dinner quietly by myself and watched four episodes of Elementary (um. Kathy. Sherlock is a bit creepy.) and cut out a shitload of Wonder Under.

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The container on the left has all the stuff that’s cut out. The pile on the right is all that’s left.

It was 1 AM and I wasn’t in the mood to spend another 45 minutes cutting that out. I was tired.

It’s still not cut out though and that was my plan for today: cut it out, sort it, and start ironing. But it’s 4:30 already and I haven’t even touched it. Why? Well hell. I’m having a surgical procedure tomorrow, just found out the timing today, so I’ve been running around like a crazy person labeling a quilt, driving to Home Depot for the slats for the quilt, cutting those, dehairing said quilt, boxing it up, driving it to someone who will deliver it for me, because now I can’t, and then the grocery store on the way home. I think I also made stuff for lunches for the next few days, so if I have an appetite when I get home, there’s some stuff I can eat. Because I have teenagers, and although they are both capable of cooking and cleaning and even fetching, they are also not always here or reliable or even sane. Boychild did fetch my library book for me.

It’s OK. Don’t panic. It’s not major surgery. I’m not even having stitches. It’s just the uterus and it needs some persuading to stop misbehaving, and because of that, I get to have flu symptoms for like a week. Or more. Because I have time for that shit right now. It’s OK. I do have time for it, because otherwise, I’m going to need to buy stock in a tampon company. But I don’t have time for it. I’m assuming the worst on recovery, and trying to prepare for it. So I still want to finish the Wonder Under, sort it, and start ironing tonight, even though I have to be at the hospital tomorrow at holy shit in the morning. I have 8 hours before I have to go to sleep. I can sleep ALL DAY tomorrow. Maybe I should just stay up all night. See those eyeballs up there? Yup. That would be a bad plan.

Anyway. With all that in mind, I’m a little overly stressed and a tad worried, because nobody likes to be put under and have drugs pumped into them and to lie in a hospital gown. Those damn things are freakishly uncomfortable, and just when you finally fall asleep, some loud nurse comes in and turns on all the lights and pulls the blankets off of you, scaring you half to death, just to check your incision. Yeah. Things I try to avoid.

So art…in a minute. First I want to talk about the three openings on Saturday. The first one was at Visions, a collectors’ exhibit. It’s worth seeing. I wasn’t overwhelmed, but it has some nice work in it. I’m not allowed to take pictures there. The second one was fun, but a little crazy…

The Frida Kahlo Group Art Show at the La Bodega Gallery in Barrio Logan. There were a million people there by the time we got down there, many of them dressed as Frida (somewhat disturbing). Some of the art was a bit TOO derivative, but much of it was an interesting take on people’s idea of Kahlo or her art. Artists’ names are on the tags below. Sometimes I try to link to websites for artists, but I will never get this posted this week if I try to do that.

So people kept posing this young Frida lookalike under the paintings, and she kept moving under the green one (one of my favorites), but then someone would move her back to the blue one…

And here’s the green one. Maybe we should have let her stay there.

Then a tiny room off to the side had David Van Gough in there…and I couldn’t possibly get any good pictures of his stuff, because it was hella crowded in there. But you can go see it here.

Outside? This awesome photo opportunity. Seriously cool.

After that, we went to a pop-up gallery with work by Spenser Little and Jaclyn Rose, both with amazing pieces. Then the night finished with a good burger and some wine, and you can’t argue with that. I still have a hike to post and some Wonder Under to manage. There was a side trip (while you weren’t looking) through a bunch of financial and copyright shit that I have now banished or managed or scared off. So I can get on with what I’ve wanted to do since I was awakened this morning by bad nightmares and cat breath. Damn demanding art brain.

Women I Want to Be When I Grow Up

I started writing this post the other day when I read someone’s list of awesome fictional women…actually, I just went and searched around to see if I could figure out where I got the idea, because the blogger LIKES his hits and trackbacks…fellow teacher and sci-fi writer (although I barely qualify) InfiniteFreeTime wrote about that here. The interesting thing about being a GIRL though (actually, I rarely call myself a girl because it’s such a loaded word when you are dealing with an adult female) is that those awesome female fictional characters are also our role models. So from growing up reading and looking at stuff and trying out how to be the most awesomest female in the world, I put together some short lists.

First of all, you have to know that when I was younger, like middle school, I would tell people that I was the reincarnation of Mary Cassatt (in fact, I wrote a whole story about it, which in retrospect, was probably only one page long in a school notebook and was tossed out that summer when we cleaned out our backpacks). The reason I picked Cassatt was because, and this is important, at the time, she was the only female artist I knew about. Sad but true. I’m not sure even now that I have female role models in the art world…there are artists whose work I admire, but whose practices or personal lives leave much to be desired. Then again, they didn’t have any role models either. The crazy-ass balance between mom, provider, and artist is not something to be envied most days.

Anyway, when I grow up, I want to be one of these women…actually, I want to be a composite of all of them…notice the recurring theme of stubborn strength and kicking ass. In some sort of chronological order…

Dana Scully in X Files: Dana is the perfect mix of faith and science, and although I’m not a religious person, I love her cynicism when it comes to Mulder’s belief and her ability to kick ass and still admit when she’s wrong.

Ellen Ripley in the Alien series: Ripley saves the kid AND kills the aliens. She’s tough, but caring, and so nice to her cat. And she recognizes a bitchy alien when she sees one.

Jane Tennison in Prime Suspect (the UK version): a troubled character, but excels despite being surrounded by testosterone-addled males. Plus she solves the cases.

Mrs. Piggle Wiggle in the books of her name: I read Mrs. PW when I was a kid, but it wasn’t until I was reading them to my OWN kids (and teaching middle school) that I realized how freakin’ awesome she is. Always cheery and perky, but the punishment fits the crime. I wish I could be her.

Beatrix Kiddo (aka The Bride) in Kill Bill: There’s something to be said for revenge and for being good at something that is not very feminine (whatever the fuck THAT means…but think about all the stereotypes girls have to watch and then toss this character into that mix…she’s badass, but has compassion), and The Bride does it with style.

Lisbeth Salander in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (prefer the original movies) and the rest of the series: Yup. She’s fucked up. But I love how she gets revenge (ah, a theme erupts). Plus she’s damn smart and sneaky.

Kara Thrace aka Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica (the new one): Starbuck is another troubled woman (she drinks, she smokes, and she fucks up regularly), and she is carrying a HUGE chip on her shoulder, but you can see her fight through her feelings in the series. She is an emotional mess at times, but fights through the crazy and stands strong…not just for herself.

There’s a theme here: troubled, emotional, often making mistakes, but strong in conviction and ability, not bound by gender except when others try to force it on them.

There are other female characters that I love, but who then make a really stupid decision, like Anna in Downton Abbey (don’t keep secrets like that!). I’m always disappointed when shit like that happens. I guess it’s a fine line between a Starbuck or a Jane Tennison and Anna, but it’s my line to draw.

There’s a couple other lists I made while I was thinking about this (and I’ve been thinking about it for days, and I could probably wrack my brains for another year and make the list longer, but this is where it’s at right now).

Girls I wish I had been when I was younger

Hermione Granger in Harry Potter: Duh. Who doesn’t want to be her? Smart, beautiful, strong, emotional, kicks ass around the boys. Thanks JK Rowling for giving my daughter someone to look up to.

Arya Stark in Game of Thrones: Another duh. She’s a tomboy, she uses a sword like a boy (or better), she gets out of situations like a magician, and George R.R. Martin hasn’t killed her yet (knock on wood).

Pippi Longstocking in the books of her name: She’s strong, nonviolent, and a creative thinker. Plus everything she does is cool.

Women I don’t want to be?

Gemma Teller Morrow from Sons of Anarchy: Wants to do right by her family, but is a giant-ass mess. Sure, we all want to be in bed with Jimmy Smits, but we don’t kill people to get there. She’s evil. I realize she’s supposed to be and her circumstances made her largely who she is, and even more importantly, I’m supposed to be troubled about liking her…but I just don’t. In fact, I don’t like any of the women in SoA. I used to like Tara (although that is also pointless now) until she became some PTSD survivor crazy person. Much as I love the show, it’s hard on the females. Oh yeah, and Gemma babysits when drugged out. Bad grandma.

Alicia Florrick in The Good Wife: I have never ever liked her. She wimped out, she used her situation, she’s flaky, she’s fucked up but not in a good way. She just irritates the crap out of me. Take a stand, woman. Please. For the sake of other women out there.

Frida Kahlo: OK, so this is hard because I love her art. But she’s kinda like Alicia, in that she let Diego Rivera be the giant ass he was and she put up with it, and from what I read, that fucked her up mentally in a big way. But she stayed with him anyway. Yes, she made amazing art while she was alive, and some of it may have been precipitated by Diego’s dumbassedness, but I just wish she’d had the balls to tell him to fuck off, and walk away and maybe hang out with Georgia O’Keeffe instead. She might have been happier.

All the women in Breaking Bad, Justified, and The Dresden Files, and possibly more that I’m not even remembering right now. Those are just in my head at the moment. Most of the women on the Lifetime channel, and all of the women in the Real Housewives franchise. Holy shit. Just get rid of all of them.

Women my son wants me to be, but I haven’t actually seen yet

Buffy The Vampire Slayer (it’s on my long long list of things to watch): OK, probably he just wants to date Buffy or someone like her (he would disdainfully snarl at that characterization).

I’m sure this is an ever-changing list as I read more and/or remember more (seriously…the brain is not my friend), but it’s interesting to think about what makes you like or dislike a female role model, because there are certainly some very fine lines between fucked-up and vengeful when you look at say The Bride vs. Gemma, but hey, it’s my list. You don’t have to agree.

Unacceptable…

I got an invitation to apply to a juried art competition for American women artists, art that “exemplifies the utmost in excellence in terms of composition, technique, mastery of medium and quality of design.” Then they listed “acceptable” and “not accepted” media. Um. So first of all, those aren’t antonyms really. It should be “accepted” and “not accepted” OR “acceptable” and “unacceptable.” Yes, I’m pedantic about language…but here’s the thing…acceptable means something very different here than accepted…also because what I do, fiber art, is not in the “acceptable” range. Painting is (of course), as is sculpture and drawing. Textile and fiber art are listed in the “not accepted” (unacceptable?) range.

But fiber art is almost exclusively a female art. Now they knocked photography out too, so they are obviously clinically deranged, but whatever. Also not accepted are “craft, jewelry…any work containing computer-generated elements, prints”…so basically all the art forms I have used over the years are unacceptable. My subject matter is on the fringe, and so is my medium.

I’m reading a book about art called Making Art: Form and Meaning, by Terry Barrett, and he talks about choosing your medium to fit your message. I don’t know how much I chose fabric, or whether it chose me. I don’t know when I made the decision to fully move away from screenprinting to quilt art. I know I was never a great painter…or sculptor…or photographer. I could draw though. I did all of it in school and quite a bit of it afterwards…but pen on paper and then translating that into fabric has been my preferred artistic form of communication for an awfully long time, like since 1991? OK, I probably got serious about fabric only in about 1996 or so.

Anyway, the picture I spent a lot of time staring at in that book, like for the last three days, was Frida Kahlo’s What the Water Gave Me…

an amazing painting. I think I have a bathtub drawing coming…it has to be better than George W’s version…

Yup. Our former president apparently has nothing in the water. Totally. Anyway, I think of the bathtub as this introspective place, and I think Kahlo expresses that well…that time in your head when you are floating in warm water, and you can see your toes, but all the trials and tribulations of the day are floating there in front of you (please note again the emptiness of Bush’s bathtub…a metaphor for the empty mind?). Anyway. It’s an image that has stuck with me, and then because of the title, this song has been in my head for days as well…

Sigh. The weird connections of art and emotions. And yes, Florence admits to looking at Kahlo’s painting when she wrote the song…she spoke of the ocean being “nature’s great overwhelmer.” I think kids are the great overwhelmer personally, but I don’t think Florence has had any of those yet.

The next email that came through? “Create instant happiness by injecting color into your house.” Really? Oh…so THAT’S how it works. Damn. These people have obviously never seen my house…lack of color is not the issue…and if only it were so simple to just paint a few walls and add some colorful cushions and BAM! You’re fucking happy. I mean, the wall facing my kitchen is bright red. I don’t think it’s an issue.

So I had a day. And sometimes I just pick up science journals in between classes and make the kids line up outside so I have a whole 48 seconds of silence…of breathing calmly…of preparing my head for the next onslaught. I play music. I sing to myself. Apparently today I was in Roast Mode. I don’t roast on purpose. I just state the obvious. Apparently that’s roasting. We are nearing the end of the light unit (the unit on light…not the unit that is light in content…in fact, trying to explain the difference between reflection and refraction to 7th-grade brains more interested in candy and farting…yes…farting…is remarkably difficult and not light at all). It doesn’t actually get better or easier, but talking about DNA and genetics is a bit more engaging than light…even with 400 optical illusions to show them. I think I just need a change of topic…because if one more kid tells me that the CAUSE of rainbows is ROY G. BIV? That might be the straw that breaks this camel’s back.

I got an email from the girlchild’s English teacher today (fun stuff, let me tell you), and it was RIFE with typos and grammatical errors. I refrained from marking it up and sending it back with a grade on it. Really. I did REFRAIN.

Teaching is not easy. Teaching is one of the hardest jobs I’ve ever done…not as hard as being a single/divorced parent…but close. You are parent, disciplinarian, hard-ass, therapist, content-expert, maid, actor, feeder of the mind (sometimes of the body as well)…and somehow you have to find sanity in all that. Sometimes that is very hard to do. I’m better at it now. I’m better at it while depressed. I don’t know what that means.

So it’s important that I find some balance…this school year more than any other has been about that balance…especially with the depression throwing me completely OFF balance, destroying motivation, fucking with my mood, messing with my ability to deal with the simplest things. I’ve dropped so many balls this year. I thought I would be in a better place by now, but I’m stuck in a sad swamp. I made myself exercise tonight, then finished a book…and treated myself with Mexican food. I don’t hardly ever eat out any more, but after the gym, my blood sugar was crashing, and the thought of having to come home and cook something that I really didn’t want to eat was SO depressing that I stopped at the local good Mexican food place. It was worth it. Calories? Yup. But I don’t think you can live like a monk all the time and not have the joy of guacamole in a burrito.

Then I came home and meditated and drew…I drew very very slowly, because (1) I’m really tired and (2) I’m not sure what’s coming next…I have to let my brain work it through. I know I want a wolf in there somewhere, but haven’t figured out how to fit it in…I thought originally that she (the chick at the bottom) was under water…

But maybe she’s not…maybe all that is behind her and she’s sitting on the ground. I don’t know.

It’s not like I’m portraying reality here. I’m pretty sure Kahlo didn’t worry about shit like that. And my stuff certainly has surrealistic tendencies. I can decide that’s the bottom of the ocean and wolves live down there…SEA WOLVES. Or not. Maybe there’s an aquarium behind her. Yeah. That’s it. She’s at the fucking aquarium. NAKED. Insert hysterical laughter here. I think I need to go hang out with some artists for a while…not sure where I will find them. It’s really alienating to never have other artists to talk to in person. I love book club, but I think I need art club. Then again, so many artists drive me bonkers with artspeak and pretentiousness. Sigh.

Oh who cares. I’m just drawing. Insight into the artist’s mind. Wish I could have read Frida’s blog. We could have gone out for a glass of wine and complained about how big of an ass Diego was. Could have been good.