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journal change [Jan. 29th, 2007|11:10 pm]
[pulse |the red room]


The ads, which I thought wouldn't bother me originally, are really disrupting my chi. And since LJ would not let me "down-grade", I've decided to make another screen name - one without ads including Molly Sims and TiVo.

I apologize to those of you who have digitally followed me around for a few times already. But I'm a visually oriented person and this shit is annoying me.

My new livejournal is: like_skin

And although I have other weird, obscure accounts all over the place... I'm not planning on using them anymore. So yeah. This is it. Pinky swear.

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(no subject) [Jan. 29th, 2007|09:50 am]
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[pulse |the red room]

Football at ETSU too costlyCollapse )
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watercolour notes [Jan. 28th, 2007|10:43 am]
[Tags|, , , ]
[pulse |the red room]
[biting |complacent]
[sound |silence]

prints: Mary Cassatt, John Singer Sargent
Snow White & the Seven Dwarves: Randall Jarrell, Nancy Ekholm

Carroll Carter
Elliott Puckett
Jennifer Poon
Ten Lincoln
Carol Bove
Wangechi Mutu
Ernest Caivano
Aubrey Beardsley (sp?)
Zach Smith

along the same vein:
Donald Dixon
Yuko Shimizu
Kara Walker
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movement [Jan. 28th, 2007|09:54 am]
[pulse |the red room]
[biting |awake]
[sound |silence]

Yesterday I started moving into my new studio.

From the previous inhabitant, I inherited two large rolls of bright yellow yarn, some nails, and those wooden clips generally used for clothing.
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she asked, I responded [Jan. 22nd, 2007|09:21 pm]
[Tags|, , , ]
[pulse |the red room]
[biting |complacent]
[sound |tori amos]

When I write my name on my paintings or drawings, it’s just my first name in roughly written capital letters with a period at the end. Its part of my egocentricity and modesty combined. I am a walking statement, my own statement, and I am my own end. However, I am also a human, a woman, and an artist that has followed behind in the tradition of thousands before me. My last name is irrelevant and I make no claim to the knowledge that has been passed down to me. I claim only myself and the ideas that I manifest tangibly because that is all I have a right to claim as mine.
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be nice to me. I'm bleeding. [Jan. 22nd, 2007|09:01 pm]
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[pulse |the red room]
[biting |complacent]
[sound |tori amos]

Menstruation Week is in full swing with painful, sharp cramping, irrational moodswings, and of course, bleeding.

This morning was quiet with Jessica sleeping, the television turned off (thank god), and only the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard as I finished off a paper for European Literature. I basically explained that I am not to be trusted if by trust you mean security, because my intentions are not necessarily related to yours. Nor are my interests.

I wonder what her response will be.

Lithography is thoroughly enjoyable. Nothing like exploring a "new" medium and translating a meaningful idea visually. And so, I practically floated out of the printmaking studio, making my way down the damp sidewalk and to my next class.

Then I started feeling mellow and worn-out. Milky Way bar to the rescue.

It helped that I found the Art Forum and Art News periodicals in the library that Koterbay told me about! For the record, Karen O and art go smashingly well together and I recommend dancing between articles.

My FMLA meeting was going well until one of the girls, a self-proclaimed environmentalist, began talking about how amazing Al Gore is, which compelled me to vomit my partially digested candy bar all over her. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered that skill just yet, so I had to settle with mentally plotting my response at a future date.

Many of the "group" concerns are of no interest to me -- in fact, I refuse to participate in a few events they'll be holding on campus. (International Woman's Day? Lame.) However, there are some issues that are very important, such as maintaining the choices available to women concerning sex and reproduction. I may be attending a conference in Washington D.C. on a weekend in late March, National Young Women's Leadership Conference: From Campus to Congress, which will probably a combination of educational and irritating.

Later, again with the melancholia. Fuck.

I want to steal Jessica's heating pad and read in bed for the next few hours while eating take-out Chinese food, specifically shrimp lo mein. Listening to Nina would be nice, too. I'll push my books out of bed to make room for you, if you want, but I don't think I'd be willing to share my food. It is that time of the month, you know.
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shades of white [Jan. 22nd, 2007|02:59 pm]
[Tags|, , , , ]
[pulse |Culp computer lab]
[biting |cheerful]
[sound |bjork - hunter]

While looking through some images of Charles Sheeler's work, I found this and decided to share it.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Upper Deck
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things I have loved I'm allowed to keep [Jan. 20th, 2007|07:28 pm]
[Tags|, , , , , , , ]
[pulse |yeah yeah yeahs]
[biting |happy]

Everything that needed to be moved out of my former studio is now relocated and interestingly I'm not as upset about it as anticipated. Granted, I have the comfort of knowing there's still a chance of me getting another studio, but my adaptability to issues in my life is much more comforting. Stress can pull at my fringes, for a moment, and then movement takes over, turning the problem into an opportunity.

After spending virtually all day moving and re-organizing and cleaning, I went into the printmaking studio to finish grinding my lithography stone smoother and level. Then the edges are bevelled, the border is drawn, and used gum (not chewing gum, obviously) is applied within the border. Dealing with the stone is odd in that it looks very soft and smooth on the top, but of course, it's a stone so its quite solid and heavy. It makes me want to graze my fingers over the top, except that could leave a tiny bit of grease residue, potentially ruining an otherwise decent print. (Considering the fact that I'm aiming for good craftmanship.)

The pang of longing slipped in under my skin as I looked at drawings pinned to the wall that had been done by other students in the figure painting class. In a way it is peculiar for you to exist anywhere within the hands and eyes of another person. Do they see what I see? Can they know? Some of the drawings are quite beautiful, especially for the short time within which they were made. I was tempted to take all of them, even the ugly and disproportianate charcoal sketches.

Instead I left the room and got back to work.

Sketches (of us), reading the Old Testament and the Iliad (again), and writing a small "essay" about who I am. My european lit professor seems to think its important that we address this as soon as possible. The curious thing about being asked a question like that is the undefined, unnamed line that one is not supposed to cross, as this line keeps a formal balance between two strangers who really have no desire to know one another. After all, details don't make a person.

But I'm no good at regurgitating details.

I'm good at pointing out things you would see if you were paying attention.
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you missed the train, baby [Jan. 20th, 2007|08:25 am]
[Tags|, , , , ]
[pulse |the red room]
[sound |silence]

3:11 am

I realized that the faint piano I heard was not coming from Jessica's iPod, but instead 2 floors below me in the common area. Someone was not asleep. Someone was playing music.

4:18 am

Sometimes the mind just won't shut off. Planning. 1 quick, small painting a day using cold wax medium and oil paint. By Monday, have stone ready for drawing and complete at least 5 sketches. Read ArtForum and ArtNews in the library....

6:08 am

No one feels as good as you.

8:35 am

I've begun cleaning my room and toasting sourdough slices. But as I've said, anywhere you have to hide your knife and your booze isn't really home.

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note to self [Jan. 19th, 2007|11:43 pm]
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[pulse |the red room]
[sound |nina simone]

some artists to look up:

Vija Clemins
Tibor Gernus
Markus Lupertz
Bedri Baykem
Erdag Akel
Helen Escobedo
Wolfgang Petrick
Leon Golub
George Stubbs
Albrecht Durer, find more prints

paintings from The Horse: 30,000 Years of the Horse in Art:

Cave paintings in France, c. 17,000 BC
Four horse riders in their racing colours (Rome, Museo Nazionale)
Bhag (attributed), Shan Jahan on Horseback
Gustave Moreau, The Unicorns
Theodore Gericault, Horses' Hindquarters
William Blake, Death on a Pale Horse
French school, The Lady and the Unicorn: Sight
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