Found these prints which are part of a Jim Henson tribute exhibition.
I wish all of the characters were represented, but I’ve only seen Oscar the Grandiose, and Sen. C. Monster (R).
If you could “redesign” any Muppet (Sesame Street or other), and make a new character, what would be their look and name?
Filed under art
intrigued over this list; ten words you might think came from science, but are really from science fiction.
enjoying a morning concert on KEXP with We Are Augustines.
feeling a bit sore from the piercings i had done on the weekend. i forgot about all the aftercare involved. while i as at the tattoo parlour, i found out about a new type of nose ring they have, which wasn’t available when i got mine ten years ago. it’s a stud that has a better locking mechanism. to be honest, i can’t imagine ever-changing my ring to a stud, but nice to know the option is there.
probably more excited than i should be over finding blackout curtains with white lining. my apartment building has rules over window coverings, and i’ve been looking for the past year for proper blackout blinds, and yesterday i found them.
finally finished the pumpkin pie.
have to start from scratch on a new exhibition for the temporary gallery because we’re going to jointly curate something with a community organization to correspond with their anniversary in January. at least i have a finished exhibit for next summer.
happy to be back in another writing class.
enjoying these modern fairy tale posters.
currently…you are?
Filed under art, stuff and things
My foot is on the break on the corner of First Street and W 4th, just a few blocks from Granville Island. I debate turning right – do I really want to deal with parking on the island right now? No. I pull straight through the 4-way stop as LCD Soundsytem’s ‘I Can Change’ starts up on the stereo.
I can feel the vibrations through my feet, and I reach over to turn down the volume. There is a tingling in my left ear that I’ve been trying to shake for the last 40 mins. I clench my jaw and weave between the potholes, pulling into the parking lot just by the fisherman’s wharf. As I’m turning into a space, the gravel spinning beneath the tires, a pain shoots right into my ear. My hand slips from the wheel and pushes into my ear, as though putting pressure on it will somehow stop the pain. It doesn’t and I quickly put the car in park. Taking my foot off the pedal, engine still running, I smack the dashboard out of frustration. Hard. The faceplate on my stereo pops off and lands out of reach. Distorted sounds of ‘hoping and hoping the pain goes away’ scream through the stereo. How apropos. I hit it again, forgetting the car is still running. The radio is not spiting me, really.
Turning the car off, I grab my wallet from my purse, hands shaking, fumbling for my credit card. Stepping outside, the wind cuts right through me, and I immediately wish I had brought a hat. I pull my scarf up over my ear to protect it, walk to the parking machine to pay. The shooting pain is still there, I make a wish for a dull ache.
Going back to the car I put the ticket on the dashboard, grab my books and lock up. I can feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes but I try to open my eyes wider, as though that will somehow make them stop. It doesn’t. I take W 2nd until a block before the island and then cut back around the Culinary Centre. I can taste the salt on my lips from the tears, at the exact moment the salt air hits my nose. I look at the tourists leaning over the railing taking snapshots of pelicans, as boats bob up and down in the harbour. I weave my way through the bodies on tip-toe, making a bee line for the bank machine in the public market. I have just enough time to grab something to eat before class.
I buy a cup of chickpea salad, and a cookie. Chocolate chip. Resting the cookie on top of the cup of salad, I nestle a half drunk bottle of Fresca under my arm and attempt to walk back through the crowd to class. The smells of the market are almost intoxicating. I make a note to remember to buy bagels on the way home.
Back out on the street, the cookie shakes on top the salad. I move it to my purse and quicken my pace. The heavy glass doors of the school greet me, and I heave them open, noticing the light catch off my blue nail polish.
Inside, I’m greeted by the warmth of the electric heat. I pull the scarf from my ear and use it to cover my nose as the smell of fresh paint greets me through the lobby. Take-down. New installation coming through. I run up the metal stairs to the second floor, pass a dozen doors or so until I’m at room 268. Walking in I’m greeted with familiar faces and I dump my things onto a table and start to set up. The classmate I usually sit with comes in a few moments later and we discuss our respective weeks, and somehow get talking about zombie gingerbread houses. I nibble away on my salad as we talk.
Suddendly I remember the lyric assignment. Inwardly I sigh, thinking how the last thing I want to do right now is recall a lyric to a song I can’t even hear properly anymore. It’s here, staring at the graffiti filled desk, I realize I have never really allowed myself to get upset over the situation yet. I keep trying to use humour as a defense mechanism, but it’s suddendly very real. Painful both inside and out. I’m interrupted from my thoughts by the teacher talking. I keep pushing on my ear in hopes the pain will subside.
She explains how we’re going to do something unexpected today, life drawing. We’ll get to the writing in the second part of the class. We get out our sketch books. A great sense of relief comes over me. There is nothing I’d rather do right now than just draw and not think about words, lyrics, hearing loss, whatever.
Pencil to paper calms me down. Figures quickly start to appear from the graphite. The feel of the paper against the side of my hand creates a rhythm.
I know I can draw my own line, and walk back from the ledge.
I’ve been on a documentary kick as of late.
Tonight I watched Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child.
Loved it. I implore you to watch it if he’s an artist who interests you, or even if he’s not. It’s a great picture that captures a particular moment in time; which you’ll want to watch again, and just talk about with others.
Or at least that’s how I felt.
The best docu you’ve seen as of late?
it’s not too late to restart the week, is it? i mean it’s only mid day on tuesday, surely something can be done.
this week has just been one migraine (literal and metaphorical) after another.
do you have a favourite piece of art that lifts your spirits on a blue day?
here’s one of mine.
Paul Sérusier - Le Talisman
I’ve been on an Edward Gorey kick recently.
Started when I rearranged my work office and put up some artwork.
I like to match the whimsy, with the more obtuse.
Although having a sign that reads “the unshaven top hats have run amok” on your wall does cause conversation too.
Filed under art
Saw these this morning on Etsy and they made me chuckle.
Imagined if a real pair, out for a stroll, what these two would say to each other…their names…
This happens a lot to me when I’m accessioning artifacts, or working on an exhibition. I love coming up with a story in my head for each object/photograph. Sometimes it goes with the history of the piece, and sometimes it doesn’t.
A lazy Sunday at work, in a century old house is quite lovely right about now with a strong imagination. Later we decorate for Thanksgiving/Hallowe’en.
Off now to create a backstory for my scarecrow…
Happy Sunday.
Filed under art, curator chronicles
You can find more clips of Joe Mangrum’s work on YouTube.
Something that made you smile today?
Filed under art, awesomeness
On select Wednesday’s this summer I’ve been running an arts program for kids at the museum. Today was the last one – a pottery workshop. Luckily, I’ve been able to mess around with clay all week in preparation, and today things went swimmingly. I love seeing the creativity that comes from it. Not one vase or bowl in sight; hybrid creatures, a grocery store produce section (complete with mohawks) , and even a few aliens.
I remember when I was a kid and went to art camp, we had a clay class and I made finger puppets. You know, ceramic finger puppets are so usable. I think my dad still has them on his desk at work.
I also learned this summer that I have to stop saying I have horrible balance.
I am a master at stilts. Truly. There were witnesses and everything.
Something you’ve learned lately?
Filed under art, craft this, curator chronicles
I love taking the train.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have taken the train across large parts of Canada, the US and Europe, and I never tire of it.
I especially love in cities such as Newcastle, or here in the lower mainland where the metro is not underground, but above so the city sweeps by you as you travel from neighbourhood to neighbourhood, under bridges and wrapping around the Fraser River. Sure, taking it day after day can get to you, but I love taking it on the weekend when I’m not pressed for time, can snag a coveted seat, listen to the ipod and free the mind and just digest from whatever the week threw out.
It also helps when your stop is the Vancouver Art Gallery, and you’re headed to see Leonardo Da Vinci’s The Mechanics of Man exhibit.
This makes the trip back home filled with so many amazing thoughts you may even miss your stop and ride a little longer.
Not that this happened to me, I’m just saying.
