hole becomes whole

I worked on finishing the ragged edges of the screen in this drawing I started last summer. I'm thinking about having some stuff caught in the wire, but am hanging it on the wall for awhile to think about it. It might be a boring drawing.

After such a long time coming I completed filling in the texture of this piece I started last year. I decided I'm going to focus on finishing things for the next few weeks before winter break so that I don't have too much unfinished business laying around my studio-- it's been getting kind of cluttered and overwhelming.

letter from mount hood

Marion,
did you give me up for a long lost pal? I am here with Rusty on a Housing conference. Our next stop is San Francisco then perhaps St. Louis then home. We expect to be up your way in a few weeks. I'll call you.
Very Very Fondly,
Aileen

Sent to: Mrs. Marion G. Mc Ausland, Rt #2 Crescent Lake, East Longmeadow, Mass., 01028
From: Portland, Oregon, October 11, 1967

gulf of mexico

Left Riviera Beach this (Thursday) morning. Drove through Miami and came on the trail to Naples on the gulf on the west coast. Sorry you have so much snow in N.J.. We were at the beach all day Monday and the water was very warm. Love to you all,
Hazel and Clarence B.

Sent to: Mrs R McAuslin, Horseneck Road and Hollywood Ave., Caldwell, New Jersey
From: Naples, Fla., March 23, 1956

letter from oregon

This is a Big village gone busy. Wish you were here.
LEW

Sent to: Marion McAusland, Griswald Galleries, Havershaw Co., Waverly, Rhode Island
Sent From: Portland, OR, September 12, 1929

the hugging game

Morgan and I have known eachother for 6 months-- when I remembered this tonight I didn't stop there with my thinking in numbers... that's 1/2 a year... that's 1/50th of my life... that's 1/20th of the decade that is almost over.  

I think in fractions a lot-- they pretty much were the sole contributor to the will that drove my athleticism in college (imagine me during a race thinking, "I'm 1/5 done-- I only have to do that 4 more times, and 4 is a pretty small number, go team!").  Fractions get complicated though when you have to string them together because each one is relational-- it kind of messes up narrative linearity when your "whole" is at some times the unknown length of your life, at other times the time between you and the next weekend and then still at others the number of rainy blocks between you and a bus station.  

One of Morgan's slogans is that 'nothing lasts forever' which pretty much derails fractional thinking completely.  I'm totally not sure but I think it's supposed to make you want to fully invest in the present-- but for someone who thinks/lives/breathes fractionally it kind of deflates the comfort of "wholeness" by aligning it with "nothingness".  If zero and one are the same thing and nothing at all, what happens to the fractions in between?

Fractions were fun in school- I'm pretty sure that once Buddhism dismisses their relevance they must die and go to the most amazing fraction heaven ever-- a total part-y (get it?).  They limbo under one another's fraction bars, they cross-multiply, they add up and fall into pieces.  

The hugging game seems like an appropriate time to invite fractions back into the romantic picture, when two people are each half of something, a hug.  I was told that if people hug for a long time that their hearts will start beating together.  This might be totally untrue. I was also told that this will happen with companion pets like cats or dogs, so it's not like you need another person in your arms to experience synchronization-- just pick up something furry and breathing and squeeze.   

I got this post card from a discounted bin at an antique shop in Ithaca this summer.  It was sent from Blanche to Mabel on July 21, 1915:

Dear Blanche,

Hope you are having a fine time.  I am having a bum time.  Write that letter soon.  The pictures haven't come yet.  Does this card.  Went to the lake had some time.

Mabel

letter from home

Thems any sentiments too.
M.A.H.

Sent to: Mr. John Ernst, Honeoye Falls, N.Y.
From: Chicago, Ill., August 18, 1911

letter from the emerald pool

Dear Mrs. Fulmer,
This doesn't give a very good idea of the lovely color of the pool. There are other pools where the water is always boiling. I expect to reach H.P. next Friday, the 23rd.
E.S.R

Sent to: Mrs. Carrie Fulmer, Holland Patent, New York
From: Dillon, Montana, August 17, 1929

letter from the Ice Chamber, lower cave

Looks as if your F. would be sent to a convention of Soil Conservation Service at Clovis, N.M. next Sunday. He would be there 2 or 3 days. If you should be on your way here and coming by way of Clovis you might see him there.
Mother

Sent to: Mrs. Ed Hollister, 523 N. Aurora St., Ithaca, NY
From: Las Cruces, New Mexico, Sept. 7, 1944

the things we saw at the places we went

I'm making plans to take a trip up to Portland for Thanksgiving at Vanessa's house and Morgan has decided to come too.  We have loose plans to drive up the coast and stay at a beach yurt in Oregon, but the biggest plan we've conceded upon is to try to not make too many plans.  But the thought of trips and travel has got me looking at pictures and postcards from the trips of other people to see what they elucidate.  This picture reminded me of the pictures in my grandparents' travel albums full of photographs of one or the other of them standing in front of something old, beautiful, or historically significant.  

It's clear to those writing about these images from outside of their experience that the tourist narrative of a place hardly aligns with the local narrative of significance.  For example, when people visit Ithaca they usually make reference to 1) the view from the top of Fall Creek or Cascadilla gorge 2) the grandiose buildings of Cornell University and 3) the quaint Farmer's Market.  The local narrative includes these things but is fleshed out with more-- the view from the bottom of the gorges, the winter-weathered houses near downtown, the kitchens and farms where the market food came from.  It also includes lesser-known secrets-- for example, the best swimming hole is actually out at Flat Rock behind Plantations where the water is lazy or at Treman Park where you can climb up the waterfall so the high-pressure water hits you in the face or out at Taughannock where there's a million secret watery places to hide and feel like you're totally alone.  There's the secret path along the train tracks from the high school and the short-cut across the golf course to the lighthouse pilings.  

Certainly my grandparents saw a lot of things on their travels, but how much did they really see and what did they miss out on entirely?  Morgan and I will start driving in the afternoon when she gets off work so that by the time we get to the redwoods they'll be lost in the night time.  But it's also important to point out that we'll be driving up the coastal micro-climate-- if you were to travel 50 miles inland the states of California and Oregon turn into completely different places, stretching vastly towards the east into plains and forests and desert and mountains.  There's much that we will not see but certainly much to remember.  I imagine the woman in this picture remembers much more about the person taking her picture than the arch she's standing under.  

Women with geese and chicken

Two women standing, faced towards the camera, space between them, one closer, one further, both with right arms loose by their sides and left arms bent at the elbow, hands resting above their hips.  Dark high-waisted skirts, all the way to the ground, eclipsing their feet as if they're floating.  belts with shiny metal buckles, tucked in high-collared shirts, long sleeved, poofed upper sleeves.  Hair pulled back and up. In the corner of a yard, housing on both sides, badly weathered siding in need of fresh paint.  Most windows are missing their shutters.  A simple elevated porch with no railing to the left.  A large barrel against the wall with potted flowers on top.  The grass is strewn with organic debris, mulch, dead leaves, hay, grass and weeds.  Perhaps it is fall.  In the front are fast moving geese, perhaps four or five or six-- their forms are bright and warbling with their beaks down searching for food.  A single rooster stands amongst them, still and not eating, so still you can count the dark feathers on his tail plume.  The women are watching the camera.  The one towards the front, perhaps holding a basket, is playing with the clasp in her belt.

~on the back, "Nellie Okeefe and Carrie", in pencil

verso

I've had the picture with the man and dog and fox for over a year and only realized today that it is actually the flip side of this photograph here (the intended front side judging by the colored border and the printing quality), presumably of the same dog. I was totally pleased by this newfound reversability, what it means and how it elaborates on a lot of my previous postings, drawings and ideas.

Man with dog and fox

A man in a hunting cap, earflaps up because he's been running, jacket unzipped, high collar, formal hunting vest and tie. Pants tucked into high-pulled wool socks. Sturdy laced boots. Seated on a lichen-studded rock with beagle, thin rope around the neck, and dead fox. Rifle in lap, pointed towards the unseen sun. Moustache, eclipsed eyes. Dog implores, fox laughs. Scant vegetation.

rocking

The roof of this house is bleached out in the picture, but there is one-- with two points and a chimney in between. The trees are akimbo with scrambling branches, hardened by sun and drought. The grass looks stiff and sharp. Three chairs in the picture, two occupied, one by a small barefoot boy and another by his grandmother. Their hands are in their laps. They are seated on the porch in front of the door to the house. The third chair is upright in the grass. It is an old picture. It seems a new house. There is no paved walkway in front of the house which probably means there is no paved road anywhere nearby. The boy is looking at the camera, his grandmother is looking at him. It seems quiet.

baby mountain

I drew a mountain of babies in my sketchbook during class on Wednesday and today I worked on making it for real. I've been thinking about ways to start using the images of the people from my photograph collection and it seemed to me that making landscapes with their forms would be an interesting way to talk about the phenomenology of photographs and how the bodies portrayed in them sit in that gray/grey space between being an object and being a body. I spoke to new advisor Abner Nolan about it a little bit yesterday who suggested that if I made such a thing it would have to be colossal in size in order to be impressive. I'm shooting for a mountain about 5 feet off the floor-- I'm about 1/3 of the way there.

Martha, 4 1/2 yrs, 1929

When my grandmother died I was given the responsibility of putting together a poster of photographs taken over the course of her life. Some of the photographs, like this one, were so attractive in their composure and curation. At the memorial ceremony people kept coming up to me to tell me how I looked just like my grandmother-- it was a strangely morose and flattering at the same time. My grandfather tried to convince me take some of the photographs with me but my father took over the role of family historian and insisted that all the photos stay exactly as they were (read: as my grandmother composed them-- it is her handwriting labeling the bottom of this photograph here). So instead we made photocopies of the pictures I felt most precious. My father was emphatic about the importance of these photographs and expressed horror at the idea of me mixing them into all the other photographs in my collection. I'm still thinking about what that fear was all about.

what you see

I made this at Morgan's house on Sunday night as we waited in vain for an episode of Dexter to download. I bought a couple of rag rugs last week and have been thinking of new ways to incorporate them into my practice. Yesterday Jeff Gibson told me that I should stop thinking so hard and just make whatever seems appropriate... confusing because one of the first things he said to our class was that he felt it was important for artists to be responsible and conscious in their making (which I understood to mean non-intuitive).

people to look at

Jeff Gibson made me a list of artists to check out.
Vik MunizTim GardnerTara DonavanSue deBeerPhoebe WashburnMonica BonviciniMichael KrebberLara SchnitgerKate GilmoreEllen Harvey

ghost word: a word form that has entered the language through the perpetuation of an error

Ghost Dance: a group dance of a late 19th century American Indian messianic cult believed to promote the return of the dead and the restoration of traditional ways of life

Phantasmagoria: 1)a constantly shifting exhibition of optical effects and illusions, some seen and others imagined 2)a bizarre or fantastic combination, collection, or assemblage

Phasmophobia: is phobia involving an abnormal and persistent fear of ghosts, spectres or phantasms

Somnambulism : an abnormal condition of sleep in which motor acts (as walking) are performed

Spectrophobia: a phobia involving a morbid fear of mirrors and the dread of seeing one's own reflection

murk

I found this photo on the ground and it seemed to be about the color swamp. My advancement review is on Thursday and I'm feeling pretty behind-- I have a few goals in mind: finish a large drawing of an unraveling blue rag, finish the texture detail on a drawing of a pre-cut photo frame, and execute some small drawings of things I'm thinking about so I can have something to show when I ask my review committee to help me think about them. It's been a strange semester because I haven't really been attentively meeting with my advisors, distracted by the demands of out-of-town guests, reading for class and thesis writing--I haven't really had the opportunity to converse and troubleshoot over the things I'm working on. I'm having a hard time articulating why I'm interested in the ghost as a metaphor for memory and how I can draw a ghost metaphor without, well, doing something stupid like drawing a ghost. Time for bed.

the truth about ghosts

I spent a lot of time today trying not to get brain-washed while doing google research with the keywords "the truth about ghosts." I'm becoming more and more convinced that ghosts are usually a tool that people are using to talk about something else-- but it's complicated to parse out exactly what they're skirting around. Well, anyways, some of it is clearly just absolute hooey, but most of it also, read without commitment to being literal, also seems like it could mean something a little more interesting.

God and ghost loving author Sylvia Browne writes this about where we're going:

As I mentioned earlier, when our bodies die, most of us experience the brilliantly lit tunnel, not descending from some faraway place in the sky but actually rising from our own bodies and leading much more "across" than "up," at about a twenty- or thirty-degree angle. We travel with gorgeous, weightless freedom through this almost sideways tunnel, never for one instant feeling as if we've died but instead feeling more thrillingly alive than we could ever imagine here on earth. All our worries, frustrations, anger, resentment, and other negativity melt away, replaced by the peace and all-loving, unconditional understanding we remember and are about to reunite with at Home. God's sacred white light waits to embrace us at the end of the tunnel, along with loved ones from every lifetime we've ever lived. Even our pets from every lifetime are there to greet us, so eager with the joy of seeing us that the human spirits have to wait their turn to get to us. And once we've arrived on The Other Side, we resume the busy, active, exquisite lives we temporarily left behind to further our spiritual education in the tough school earth provides.

There's a simple, logical reason that the legendary tunnel takes us more "across" than "up"-our destination, The Other Side, that paradise for which we're Homesick from the moment we leave it until we return, is another dimension located a mere three feet above earth's ground level. This very real, idyllically beautiful place exists at a much higher vibrational frequency than we do here, which is why we don't perceive our intimate proximity to it, any more than the normal human ear can hear the extremely high-frequency pitch of a dog whistle. If you've had encounters with spirits from The Other Side, or talked to or read accounts from those who have, you've noticed that very often the descriptions include the impression that the spirits were "floating" a few feet above the ground. While that's often exactly what it looks like through our eyes, what's really happening is that the spirits are simply moving on their ground level at Home, three feet higher than ours.

I'm totally into her specificity of the angle of that tunnel you go down after dying-- totally wild! You can read more of her ideas here: http://www.enotalone.com/article/5023.html. Her love of ghosts at times is irritatingly unwavering and her faith could make the devout blush and the skeptical jealous.

waiting

I'd like to draw the worst line ever to be on the end of. It would be single-file, and miles long. It might be about something regrettable.

catching things from the sky

This is a wonderful photograph for so many reasons. I would like to be this man every day.

not quite sure

The person who took this picture thought they were preserving the memory of this indeterminable object. The tip of a wooden oar? An airplane propeller? a bench? The only things we can know for sure are that it was taken with a bright flash during an April night in 1966.

Of course the fact that this picture meant something very specific to someone resonates the concern that most artists deal with at some point in their making-- how much sense our art has to make to other people who look at it? This question is one that ignites a conversation with big clumsy words like 'responsibility' 'accountability' and 'accesibility.' My review is next Thursday and I've been wondering how these words will be framed in the context of my current studio practice.

ragamuffin

My friend Morgan has gotten me dog crazy, especially for small to medium sized floppy-haired dogs like thisaone here. I'm in the process of looking for a new place to live and am dreading another month without a place that's mine-all-mine. I did this for the month of August and half of September and it was just awful. When my mother was here she kept asking me where I thought I would be this time next year-- I'm sure to her it seemed like the question she was supposed to ask... but it terrified me because I realized that I was supposed to be able to answer it. Last week I finished Dorothy Allison's short book "Two or Three Things I Know For Sure" and have picked up the habit of stating those two or three slippery things for myself. And so today these things might include wanting to own the dog in this photograph.

red pile

Finished this today just in time to talk about it with James in an advisor meeting. We like it. I'm going to do more, but better ones. A few weeks ago I masked out and drew in the pattern on a small blue shirt... it was a good idea but a subtle forgery isn't as interesting as an overt lie. I bought a sweater today and am going to try to deconstruct it. A friend of mine named Sydney Russell (who went to Wesleyan and also currently goes to CCA!) does similar deconstructions but with different materials and for different reasons. It's a little bit scary to have someone so proximate to my practice doing a similar thing but I hope that it keeps me smart and articulate and am excited to be pushing further out of the exclusivity of drawings. Don't get me wrong-- drawing is great, but it seems important to be good at more than one thing.

caught on camera

and then and then and then

I made this silly drawing yesterday but have been surprised that people seem to be interested in it. This seems to happen often here-- that I make a throwaway something that curiously provokes rapture in my peers. My studio practice has been excruciatingly slowed down with the tumult of the Murphy Cadogan show, out-of-town guests and the writing of my thesis. But what this means mostly is that I've been making productive lists and quick/fast/dirty drawings in my sketchbook with the little time I have-- drawings that have been allowing me to try something without committing wholly to it.

shadows of shadows

I have thinking a lot about my relationship with ghosts, how I'm scared of and enraptured by them, how I've never seen one and how I hope to. It's complicated. But even more complicated is the idea of how to draw them outside of the Hollywood model of what ghosts look like-- how do you draw something that isn't there? I guess the ghost stories that I'm most interested in are the ones where nothing is ever seen-- stories in which the ghosts anonymously do things, move things around, make noises, eat at tables, but are never seen. My friend Adrienne has stories about hearing ghosts walking on her roof. Anna Whitehead has ghost stories from living in Philadelphia where the room drastically went cold and the light changed. Hannah Ireland told me that when she was teaching at a girls orphanage in France that one night a large window in one of the dormitories kept unlocking and swinging open on a windless night. Perhaps that is the best way to draw ghosts--to draw their bodiless actions-- coffee being sipped from a mug and spilling all over a chair, an empty swing being swung in, a floating pen writing a letter.

the siblings

This is a great photo from a nameless antique barn in Vermont. The embossing of the border tells you that the photo was taken in Rutland, Vermont. That's all. There's no other information, which demands that more attention be paid to these three curious sitters. I'm thinking siblings from their faces-- those small tight ears, coarse dark hair, and almost identical noses and lips. I love their gender non-specific bow ties and the long simple strings around the womens' necks. The belts, if you look closely, are carefully composed-- the fellow has his centered while the belt buckles of the bookended women are off-kilter toward the outside of the frame. the photo is so symmetrical that it calls attention to the things that are just barely awry-- the fellows combed moustache and coiffed hair, his crooked collar tips, the beginning of a painted backdrop behind the woman on the left, the single raised eyebrow of the woman on the right.

some shapes

I've been doing some new sketches in my notebook of houses, tombstones, conversation bubbles and ghosts. One of my advisors told me he was glas I was doing them in my notebook and sparing everyone from having to look at them nice paper. Harsh. But I'm still sort of interested in them-- I mean, obviously, they're silly, they're scribbles, they're hardly even the seeds of ideas... but they're also fun to draw, they're fast and easy and they're didactic versions of the images of the subject I'm hoping to make work about. To not draw them would be like someone else making paintings about Christ without dealing with how to draw and what it means to draw the cross.