i love cake

A few weeks ago I gave my neighbors a chair that I had made to replace the one that was stolen from their porch.  This was the first project that I committed to after starting the MFA program here at Clemson University.  I saw it as art as social gesture, art as gift, art as righting the wrong of another.

I have hardly spoken with those neighbors in the past, and have not seen them since the delivery of the chair, which happened in the middle of the night while they were sleeping.  On Valentine's Day, around 9:00pm, they came out and invited me to come inside.  Once inside, we reintroduced ourselves and I asked them if they had gotten the chair.  They let me know that it didn't take long to figure out who had given the gift and that they love it.  I walked into the living room and there is sat, up against a wall, with the yellow bow still attached.  They then presented me with a cake!  a chocolate cake with the words "thank you :)" spelled out in almond slivers!  The smiley is what put me over the edge.  I was overwhelmed with gratitude at their gratitude; a true exchange of solid gold goodness.  I was blessed that night, and now have two new friends.  We conversed for a bit, about their homes in India and about our experiences in graduate school (one is a biochemistry PhD student and the other is a biology PhD student).  After a really nice chat, I said goodnight and went home.  It was truly beautiful.

I often question the value of art, especially my own, and wonder about the effects from the art versus the effort that it takes to start and finish a project.  This reciprocation seemed to spell out value for me.  I knew that the project was not just for critique, or for a website, or for conversation, but that it had really done something.  Although small in a way (they told me they didn't even use the old chair and didn't notice it was gone for some time) the gesture broke the ice for real friendships to begin.  I am so thankful for this experience, I seriously was somewhere off in the clouds with excitement.  What began as a gesture of noticing someone who had been treated poorly ended up being the very thing that affirmed and encouraged me.  It is hard to recognize the value of what we do when all we do is critique it once it is finished, or even before.  It is difficult to understand the brevity that a project can have when nobody sees it outside of an art bubble.  But the thing I have learned from this, which I already knew but doubt often, is that creative endeavors can truly embody what Jesus meant when he said, love your neighbor.  In this I find wonderful comfort and encouragement.  And plus, I really love cake.

hmmm... where to put my stuff

So I have been thinking hard about the context complex that I am suffering from.  I am currently working on a fairly large scale sculpture that references a stomach form but through material choice and construction method also has connections to decks, garden boxes and the like.  It also has a bit of a greenhouse aesthetic.  The end result will be a mint garden where people can harvest the mint, make tea bags, send one to a friend, and then enjoy a cup of the brew.  The idea is to create a place where you participate in a type of labor, then labor for someone else, before you do for yourself.  It is about digestion of culture, and the opportunity of giving that exists between laboring to be able to give, and reaping the benefits of your labor - leisure.  Mint is a diuretic, and so I like the idea of drinking something that makes you urinate so that you then drink more... so that you then urinate.  As a play on words but also direct relationship, digestion of culture is a thread for this project (maybe all of my projects... more on that later).  I have been struggling over understanding what the gallery setting means to me, and how to use it, without it being the easy answer for where to place a given project.  All along I have intended for the piece to be seen/experienced in the gallery, and I still want to show the work in the gallery show this spring... i mean I don't want to not participate with my classmates just because the show is in a gallery - also, I don't want to be afraid of utilizing the gallery because contemporary sculpture says it should go almost anywhere but the gallery.  At the same time, I want to be able to consider and articulate a possible context in public that could have similar, or better connections to the piece in terms of where it is placed.   

So as a thought experiment of a possible public site, I was thinking about how the digestion piece is a three fold process for the participant - harvesting and fabricating a product (work/labor), giving the product away (share/exchange), and consumption of the product (reaping the benefits of the labor).  In life we make money (work/labor), then we exchange that money for things we want/need (share/exchange), so that we can then consume so as to live - although sometimes in excess (reaping the benefits of the labor).  So the disconnect between the idea of the project and the way that labor-money works is the aspect of sharing, which may exist for some and not for others.  The piece then, levels that playing field, still providing people with the option to not share (because they are not forced to make someone else a tea bag) but also to provide them with the option to do for others, without expense - in hopes to stimulate thinking towards giving while also having the pleasure of enjoying (consuming the tea).  

When people go to a bank they have participated in labor and are going to deposit the rewards of that labor, whether with intentions of helping someone else or not.  The Mint creates money for people that goes into circulation so that people who labor have a measure of value for what they do, and so that they can then exchange that value for something else of a different "type" of value.  If time spent laboring is money then the value of money is often time, even in the case of needing things to live - one week's worth of groceries costs 5 - 10 hours worth of labor (depending on the pay rate - maybe less if you are a baller).  So by placing the installation in a bank, where people are already in the mode of labor and money, they have the option to remedy the missing aspect of "sharing" rather than participating in "monetary exchange," while also reaping the benefit of "consuming" by "harvesting."  Could this then be a point of reflection for people as to what to do with the money they have just deposited?  I am in no way asking people to give up their money and not pay their bills, but maybe there is something derived from the experience - especially in a bank, that can relate to how we value labor/money/time, in regards to others, and how taking the moment to participate in a non-monetary activity actually produces time to enjoy a cup of tea.  The locational output of the Mint, becomes a place for people to share and consume the value of their labor; communi-tea. (sorry i couldn't help it - i like cheesy)

soundtracks

I walked into the sculpture studio at school today and the people inside were listening to music.  As I opened the door the song changed and dropped a super intense hip hop beat, like I had brought my own soundtrack.  Awesome.  I wonder how we can make work like that, work that aligns itself with the vibe of such intensity that music ignites in those experiencing it.  It would at least make for a good artist statement - "My work is like a train wreck of goodness upon arrival."  Or better yet, "my work is like boom boom thump thump".  I like it.

Stages

Stages, 2009, Oil on Birch Panel, 24"x24"

"Iceberg"

"Iceberg" is a juried exhibition to be held at the Asheville Gallery of Art at 16 College Street in Asheville North Carolina. The opening reception will be from 5pm-8pm on the evening of January 15, 2010. The exhibition will feature 13 local artists including myself. Come and check it out!

The exhibiting artists in "Iceberg" are Jay Englebach, Sara Bernardi, Molly Jones, Amy Griffith, Andrew William Johnson, Giedre Krulikas, Megan Seifried, Carly Powell, Emily O' Brien, James Ward, Kat Knusten, Stephen Gstundtner, and Jason Adams.

Early

Early, 2009, Oil on Birch Panel