Sunday, February 28, 2010
Justine Cruz- Question
Im sorry my question is late...but I was wondering if the slip work on my 4 elements piece was to distracting for the shape? I feel as though I might have gotten carried away...but I had fun so I don't really mind.
Jenna Bloodough Question
My question for the bilateral symmetry piece is,
Do you think the detailing helps support/compliment the shape/lines of the piece?
That was a big concern of mine when we were assigned clothing the piece, to slip in a way that flowed with the other line formations of the piece because I certainly had some funky building.
Do you think the detailing helps support/compliment the shape/lines of the piece?
That was a big concern of mine when we were assigned clothing the piece, to slip in a way that flowed with the other line formations of the piece because I certainly had some funky building.
Conceptual
Hey this is Evan here. My question about my 4 elements project is less about the work itself and more about art in general. It seems to me that in the other classes I have attended have had a very ridgid structure centered around the conceptual aspects of the piece with craft taking a close second while this class seems to be more centered around craft with the conceptual aspects of the piece taking a back seat. My question is is it necissary to have a strong conceptual backing to make good art, and if so how do you take a piece with a weak conceptual backing (like the 4 elementa piece) and make it stronger.
Ursula:The 24 hour stomach flu is a beautiful thing
I was painfully sitting through my philosophy class more focused on the imaginary knife that had found itself swimming around my digestive region. Sweat beads were forming on my forehead creating a cool feeling throughout my body in the 90 degree room. It was comforting knowing that I was going to feel better as soon as I stood up to run down the hallway smelling of pizza into the bathroom where I proceeded to eject some silky gray material out of my mouth aiming in the general direction of the toilet. I failed miserably but luckily, my fellow suite mate whisked me away to the comforts of the living room couch with a wegmans' grocery bag inside a lovely transparent green trashcan probably bought at ikea...or wal mart. I made my visits to the bathroom but they became less frequent for my strength was diminishing. I had yogurt that day...and a coffee. But those were flushed down into the sewage line. I didn't want anything but water that i could only sip every five minutes unless it disagreed with my stomach in which i had to wait 20 minutes before preceding. My lips turned an off white of a wedding dress I would like to wear someday. I started sipping on some gatorade which dyed my lips close to their original color of a pale salmon color. Thank goodness there was some color in my face.
Ursula's Question
My intention of my slipping work was about painting on my piece to create an abstracted illusion that made the piece appear to be transparent. Did I have any success in my creation or is there a better way I could have went about my procedure?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Becca Polinski: Question
Feb 27, 9:21pm
Since I need my glazing to be very selective, and I want the edges between the glazed and non-glazed part of the piece to be very precise; What type of tape do you suggest using for a piece that has been fired once? Will masking-tape work, or do I need something that is more heavy duty?
Since I need my glazing to be very selective, and I want the edges between the glazed and non-glazed part of the piece to be very precise; What type of tape do you suggest using for a piece that has been fired once? Will masking-tape work, or do I need something that is more heavy duty?
Victor D. Franco
02.27.10
*Four studies (big project) midterm question*
My piece has various cracks on it. I tried to incorporate them into the slip design. Was I successful with what I tried to do?
I skipped lunch today. I'm hungry.
*Four studies (big project) midterm question*
My piece has various cracks on it. I tried to incorporate them into the slip design. Was I successful with what I tried to do?
I skipped lunch today. I'm hungry.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Arianna
This just needs to be documented:
Two heavily drunk guys walking up the hill next to my apartment. This is their conversation:
- I'm not gonna lie to you as a friend
= mumble mumble [texting]
- You always blame me for everything and that's fucked up!
= [still texting]
- Gimme a HUG! [hugs him around the waist]
= [still texting]
Two heavily drunk guys walking up the hill next to my apartment. This is their conversation:
- I'm not gonna lie to you as a friend
= mumble mumble [texting]
- You always blame me for everything and that's fucked up!
= [still texting]
- Gimme a HUG! [hugs him around the waist]
= [still texting]
Elliott
My question to everyone is, does the fact that my sculpture is not displayed on an alternative side than the original side it was assembled on affect the visual value of my project?
Alexis' Midterm Question (?)
I think the slipwork i did on the top of the piece ( accentuating the arrow shape with a white line, and black shoe prints facing in the opposite direction) implies some blunt narrative, just based on the fact that they are such iconic things that are directly related and put in opposition to each other.
The rest of the decoration and the form itself are very abstract, both relating to the original drawing.
Do you think there is a disconnect between the slipwork on the top and the rest of the piece?
The rest of the decoration and the form itself are very abstract, both relating to the original drawing.
Do you think there is a disconnect between the slipwork on the top and the rest of the piece?
Cindi's question- Fat person or cheeseburger?
Sculpture for sculpture's sake. I guess that is what this project was meant for. I did learn a lot about the material, leather hard being what I think may be the most important thing I learned. When I started doing my piece, I liked the shape. Then someone told me it looked like a fat person's shape. Another person told me it looked like a cheeseburger. I started hating my piece but kept trying to remember that I'm here to learn. It doesn't matter what it looks like as long as I become familiar with the process. So when I turned it over and and began the slipping process all I could think of was "try to mask the burger shape. Get rid of the fat rolls.". I tried to hide the crease by slipping with white to make the crease come forward. I tried to make the roll recede by slipping with black. I am wondering if I acheived this masquerade. Does my piece still look like a fat person or a cheeseburger?
Nick Moen's Question
Line:
a) a boundary of an area
b) an arrangement or placement of persons or objects of one kind in an orderly series
c) a narrow elongated mark drawn or projected
d) a straight or curved geometric element that is generated by a moving point and that has extension only along the path of the point
e) a mark recording a boundary, division, or contour
f) a defining outline
How can the line as a "general plan" develop movement, contrast, and separation in the piece? How do the slip line affect the lines of contour and vice versa? How does the silhouette created by negative space interact with the negative spaces created by surface lines?
a) a boundary of an area
b) an arrangement or placement of persons or objects of one kind in an orderly series
c) a narrow elongated mark drawn or projected
d) a straight or curved geometric element that is generated by a moving point and that has extension only along the path of the point
e) a mark recording a boundary, division, or contour
f) a defining outline
How can the line as a "general plan" develop movement, contrast, and separation in the piece? How do the slip line affect the lines of contour and vice versa? How does the silhouette created by negative space interact with the negative spaces created by surface lines?
Arianna's Midterm Question
A question started sneaking into the back of my mind just as I was finishing up my large piece.
Does the pattern fit the form/shape?
What do you guys think?
Victor D. Franco
...
*accidently posted only date (02.26.10) before and could not figure out how to edit it*
I'm at a work study meeting during which almost nothing productive is ever done. I'm looking foward to lunch at Nana's with Cindi afterwards.
This past week has been really busy, a blur- hence why I haven't been on here much at all.
This weather is rediculous. It is times like these that I wish I had chosen another school. Other than that, Alfred Univ. is pretty much okay...
Do you ever plan to or just spontaneously sit down to talk to someone and then their friends come and join in? What if you planned it and just wanted to have a nice lunch with JUST THEM and not their friends? Isn't that annoying? Its one of my pet peeves.
I participated in CYLI this Wednesday and I think...I've learned to like children more than I used to -which is a good thing if I want to go into art therapy.
*accidently posted only date (02.26.10) before and could not figure out how to edit it*
I'm at a work study meeting during which almost nothing productive is ever done. I'm looking foward to lunch at Nana's with Cindi afterwards.
This past week has been really busy, a blur- hence why I haven't been on here much at all.
This weather is rediculous. It is times like these that I wish I had chosen another school. Other than that, Alfred Univ. is pretty much okay...
Do you ever plan to or just spontaneously sit down to talk to someone and then their friends come and join in? What if you planned it and just wanted to have a nice lunch with JUST THEM and not their friends? Isn't that annoying? Its one of my pet peeves.
I participated in CYLI this Wednesday and I think...I've learned to like children more than I used to -which is a good thing if I want to go into art therapy.
Arianna
My feelings can only be described in pictures today.
I'd rather not do this today:
But homemade these are on the menu:
I've partaken of this already:
Have I mentioned how I love these? I've started a collection:
I keep thinking that now my day is free I should go do this:
Except this would be me in my tiny coupe:
But I really want to go here:
Okay, or even to here:
Or here:
I guess another day will bring me somewhere else.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Crowley (Irish for descendant of the Hero)
I was eating an apple the other day while my motor functions were being cancelled out by a migraine. Because of this I took a bite at a funny angle and bit right through to the core - something I learned to avoid like the plague as a child because I loathed the bitter taste and tough texture. This time it tasted just like the rest of the apple, but my taste buds might have been overridden by the migraine. I think I even chewed a couple seeds, which is usually unheard of from me. Anyway I was shocked by this turn of events and I wish there was someone there to watch me because it must have been real funny as I turned my head with my eyebrows in the air and my eyes all wide to look at the apple in my hand. There was a perfect round opening to the core, with the cute little seeds all lined up against these spines inside. It's so strange how hollow it is in there, and how lightly the seeds just set in there place. Apples are very gentle things when you think about it - strong but gentle. The flesh provides resistence when you bite into it but the flavor is light and sweet, kind of welcoming. Not like oranges, they bite back with their acid (although still quite delicious). The thick white flesh is the fortress, all to protect this tiny secret room in the middle, where the little brown drops of potential trees lay sleeping. Thats what apples are, elaborate biological cradles.
I'm gonna eat so many more apples from now on.
I'm gonna eat so many more apples from now on.
Jenna Bloodough
Today was a break in general. My glass crit went well and is over, that was a big one for me. I fell on the way to glass, funny, but the boy behind me just blew past me..at least share a laugh..rude. I couldn't really concentrate in glass because I was so bogged down with the crit but I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my back. Now Im baking brownies and relaxing. Tomorrow we shall start new things
Cindi wants SNOW
I am hoping for the snowstorm of the century! Or at least the decade. I remember snow up to my waist. Of course I may have been shorter then. Let's see the snow fly horizontally. Let's see it build up around the trees and cars. Let's see the snow dervishes whirling everywhere. Let's hear the soft silence that a good storm produces. I want to be snowed in for days with nothing to do but think and cook and play with the boys. Or maybe I should wish to be snowed in at the school with so much time on my hands I can make 300 boxes. Or maybe I could have time to read and study for my midterm. Or maybe, or maybe.....
Becca Polinski
February 25, 3:23pm
Time spins
Moments fly by
The mind can't keep up
Hoping for a slow
A day to recollect
What it is we do
A music in my brain
It's time to Stand Up
Time to get on the move
Inspiration
Something needed
To hold the soul
To push the mind forward
To find a way
To find some time
To find the means
To reverse
To do what can't be done
To hope for a new day
A new way to respond
A new message to lead
A way to follow
The way you would follow yourself
In a time loop
Remembering yourself
And creating as you go
Time spins
Moments fly by
The mind can't keep up
Hoping for a slow
A day to recollect
What it is we do
A music in my brain
It's time to Stand Up
Time to get on the move
Inspiration
Something needed
To hold the soul
To push the mind forward
To find a way
To find some time
To find the means
To reverse
To do what can't be done
To hope for a new day
A new way to respond
A new message to lead
A way to follow
The way you would follow yourself
In a time loop
Remembering yourself
And creating as you go
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Cindi Kelly, I think
I get confused. I wonder if it's my age or if I'm trying to do too much, or am I just stupid? Organizing isn't a strong suit of mine. Whenever I get a chance I try to reorganize my organizing skills. I'll try to write things down, I'll try to use my phone calender, I ask my husband to remember things for me, I'll waste more money on a planner. Is it because I don't care? Is it because I am just trying to challenge myself? I do sudoku, I try crossword puzzles, I stand on my head to get the blood moving into my brain. Is it helping? We'll see at the end of midterm week.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Arianna
Funny how something you do so often earlier turns into a constantly forgotten activity. Like washing dishes, face lotion or even, say, a blog for class.
Noticed at 7:55 am
I'd been awake for a few minutes and tried to go back to sleep before my alarm at 8. This never really works for me, but I always attempt it. Facing away from my roommate, I can hear her laptop mouse making noise: click-click. click click. click click. I wonder what she's doing that could make that noise. Knowing that solitaire is often open on her computer, I try to think of what action in the game could make that noise, and figure out that it is most decidedly not solitaire.
I flip around, pissed off that once again my comforter and sheets don't line up; I kick them into order and it hardly works. At the end of it, my left leg is chilly because it only has the comforter on top of it (and is now in a cold spot), but my right foot is too warm because it has the entire bottom of my sheet around it. I've thought of safety-pinning the sheet and the comforters at the corners but then never get around to it. This time it'll happen.
My lips taste weird - oddly sweet? Later I figure out it's probably my toothpaste from last night. Also, note to self: I need to use more chapstick.
I keep my eyes closed even though they don't want to be closed anymore. I become extremely aware of my eyelids and the pressure that I'm exerting to keep them shut. I finally open them, taking a peek at the clock. am 7:58 it reads, and the Alarm A icon is still showing. My arm surfaces from the mess of sheets and the Alarm A icon disappears.
Noticed at 7:55 am
I'd been awake for a few minutes and tried to go back to sleep before my alarm at 8. This never really works for me, but I always attempt it. Facing away from my roommate, I can hear her laptop mouse making noise: click-click. click click. click click. I wonder what she's doing that could make that noise. Knowing that solitaire is often open on her computer, I try to think of what action in the game could make that noise, and figure out that it is most decidedly not solitaire.
I flip around, pissed off that once again my comforter and sheets don't line up; I kick them into order and it hardly works. At the end of it, my left leg is chilly because it only has the comforter on top of it (and is now in a cold spot), but my right foot is too warm because it has the entire bottom of my sheet around it. I've thought of safety-pinning the sheet and the comforters at the corners but then never get around to it. This time it'll happen.
My lips taste weird - oddly sweet? Later I figure out it's probably my toothpaste from last night. Also, note to self: I need to use more chapstick.
I keep my eyes closed even though they don't want to be closed anymore. I become extremely aware of my eyelids and the pressure that I'm exerting to keep them shut. I finally open them, taking a peek at the clock. am 7:58 it reads, and the Alarm A icon is still showing. My arm surfaces from the mess of sheets and the Alarm A icon disappears.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Elliott
I'm sorry everyone that it has been a while since my last entry. My experience today, I am feeling very fatigued and overwhelmed that for the past three weeks we have been working on the same project. Unlike others, I started this project immediately and feel like I have accomplished quite a bit more by successfully completing two forms that have interacting aspects. At this point I am struggling to fulfill the last two steps, which are; slipping and making the objects sit in an alternative position. I'm having trouble keeping interest having worked so long on this project. The reason I'm struggling so much with the slipping process is because this tedious process of work does not hold my attention well, I'm not one for decorated elaborate pieces, I'm more interested in making "fine objects." However, in doing this project I have succeeded in leaps and bounds. I have learned that my first method in creating this was not necessarily the best way of completing the assignment. I'm glad to say that I have definitely learned something and I am very pleased with the forms themselves.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Victor D. Franco
02.20.10
I haven't been posting every day lately...I have too many things going on. But, I'm trying and that's what should matter.
I woke up today to a fairly relaxing day -much more so than most. The weekdays are crazy. So, needless to say, even though I always have to go in to the studio to work on a project, I'm happy when Friday night comes along.
Today, I walked to Powell for brunch because Ade was closed (all day) for a football banquet. I've thought before: why are the football players so special? I've concluded: because they work really hard and they don't get free tuition just because they play football. Ouch, the injuries...I can only imagine.
Anyway, when I arrived at Powell, everyone was standing outside because someone burned something and the fire alarm went off. I was invited to sit with two people I barely knew -which makes me anxious because I don't generally easily find commonalities with people I don't know very well. I'm not good at bridging the gap, except for the occasional passing "how are you?" and "hello" I dislike the fakeness of "how are you?" (fakeness because if you really cared and had the time you would sit down to hear about the person's day/state) but...I still participate in it anyway. That's not to say that I don't care when I ask...but, it just frustrates me that people always say "good", and that I wish I could stop to listen to something more. I'm going to practice not asking "how are you?" from now on...
I ate a ham and provolone cheese wrap with barbecue sauce (did I mention I love brabecue sauce?), and some salad (composed of lettuce and carrots)...plus some Special K cereal with 2% milk and orange juice. Yeah, I'm still trying to at least mention what I've eaten...but these posts have turned from being mindful about food to being mindful of my thoughts. Its great :D
I haven't been posting every day lately...I have too many things going on. But, I'm trying and that's what should matter.
I woke up today to a fairly relaxing day -much more so than most. The weekdays are crazy. So, needless to say, even though I always have to go in to the studio to work on a project, I'm happy when Friday night comes along.
Today, I walked to Powell for brunch because Ade was closed (all day) for a football banquet. I've thought before: why are the football players so special? I've concluded: because they work really hard and they don't get free tuition just because they play football. Ouch, the injuries...I can only imagine.
Anyway, when I arrived at Powell, everyone was standing outside because someone burned something and the fire alarm went off. I was invited to sit with two people I barely knew -which makes me anxious because I don't generally easily find commonalities with people I don't know very well. I'm not good at bridging the gap, except for the occasional passing "how are you?" and "hello" I dislike the fakeness of "how are you?" (fakeness because if you really cared and had the time you would sit down to hear about the person's day/state) but...I still participate in it anyway. That's not to say that I don't care when I ask...but, it just frustrates me that people always say "good", and that I wish I could stop to listen to something more. I'm going to practice not asking "how are you?" from now on...
I ate a ham and provolone cheese wrap with barbecue sauce (did I mention I love brabecue sauce?), and some salad (composed of lettuce and carrots)...plus some Special K cereal with 2% milk and orange juice. Yeah, I'm still trying to at least mention what I've eaten...but these posts have turned from being mindful about food to being mindful of my thoughts. Its great :D
Friday, February 19, 2010
Cindi Kelly
A friend of mine committed suicide and the body was recovered on the beach. There was a note but so many questions need to be answered. What could have driven him to this is, of course, the obvious question. The family is mystified and angry. I am afraid that we will find out some things that may be unsettling. He was a painter. The tragic life of an artist. What did I really know about him? He was kind but a loner. He always seemed to be scrambling to pay his bills though I didn't know what or how much his debt was. He could change your golf swing and take 10 strokes off your game. He always had a story to tell. He liked old things. He easily charmed women. He loved to sing and fancied himself a cowboy. His paintings were interesting though I watched him struggle with painting. He was very encouraging except to himself. Grumble and smile. He loved animals and put them in his paintings often. He could get under your skin. Good-bye John. We'll miss you.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
A.Cl.re.ox.wi.ls.ey
One of my suite mates is Korean and me her and another suite mate sometimes sit around the t.v. and watch an episode of one of her Korean dramas. Currently we are viewing 'Autumn Falls', next is 'Spring Waltz'- that one is set in vienna and the main character is a pianist. I'm pumped. Anyway, in Autumn Falls this birthday comes up and its all dramatic and important and both (yes both) mothers make the daughter this special birthday seaweed soup. We asked the Korean suite mate if you were allowed to eat the birthday soup when you aren't having your birthday, and she said she didn't know.
Then I got to thinking it wouldn't be special if you could have the birthday soup whenever you wanted. But what if some kid really loved that seaweed soup, what kind of mother wouldn't make it for the kid on days when they were sick or sad? Then I thought it would be great if this were the tradition of the birthday seaweed soup of Korea:
Publicly it is accepted that the birthday soup is strictly for birthdays, but each mother, independent of each other, on days when a child is sick or sad makes them the birthday soup and tells them that its a secret, and it is a secret because they never tell anyone. In loo of mothers, because sometimes you don't have one or the one you have isn't so great, a father or older sibling will do the same thing.
This makes sense because people like to have things that are special, keep those things special, and USE those special things.
Then I got to thinking it wouldn't be special if you could have the birthday soup whenever you wanted. But what if some kid really loved that seaweed soup, what kind of mother wouldn't make it for the kid on days when they were sick or sad? Then I thought it would be great if this were the tradition of the birthday seaweed soup of Korea:
Publicly it is accepted that the birthday soup is strictly for birthdays, but each mother, independent of each other, on days when a child is sick or sad makes them the birthday soup and tells them that its a secret, and it is a secret because they never tell anyone. In loo of mothers, because sometimes you don't have one or the one you have isn't so great, a father or older sibling will do the same thing.
This makes sense because people like to have things that are special, keep those things special, and USE those special things.
Kathleen Rabe
I should spell my name the traditional way. Raabe. Maybe that would make this day more interesting.
Black beans and rice with a homemade corn tortilla. Cooked the traditional costa rican way, with Salsa Lisano. Jesus, I would kill for some salsa lisano. we just ran out, the last of it in with the fresh black beans. yet another need for texas.
food associations. sensory associations. different sences evoke different levels of memory for me.. when i look at old work of mine i will automaticlly remember what i was going threw when i made it, but i dont feel that time again. when i hear a song i may have listened to at that time however, the memory is physical, its overwelming. it is the same with food, it takes me there. black beans and rice reminds me of spiders and tucans, climbing waterfalls with a staff infection in my leg, skin infections from a tiny pig, building a kiln in the heat, ceramics in the bern.
taste, sound.. silence. birds in the morning. wishing for a ketzal. the tortilla's in the comal, the fire popping. my fire is popping. the smells in the air, i could be there.
taste, sound, sight, touch.. clay between my toes. exhasted from crushing, crushing and crushing and heat and frozen fresh leche snacks and crushing. its so oddly cold between my toes.
taste, sound, sight, touch, smell..
Black beans and rice with a homemade corn tortilla. Cooked the traditional costa rican way, with Salsa Lisano. Jesus, I would kill for some salsa lisano. we just ran out, the last of it in with the fresh black beans. yet another need for texas.
food associations. sensory associations. different sences evoke different levels of memory for me.. when i look at old work of mine i will automaticlly remember what i was going threw when i made it, but i dont feel that time again. when i hear a song i may have listened to at that time however, the memory is physical, its overwelming. it is the same with food, it takes me there. black beans and rice reminds me of spiders and tucans, climbing waterfalls with a staff infection in my leg, skin infections from a tiny pig, building a kiln in the heat, ceramics in the bern.
taste, sound.. silence. birds in the morning. wishing for a ketzal. the tortilla's in the comal, the fire popping. my fire is popping. the smells in the air, i could be there.
taste, sound, sight, touch.. clay between my toes. exhasted from crushing, crushing and crushing and heat and frozen fresh leche snacks and crushing. its so oddly cold between my toes.
taste, sound, sight, touch, smell..
Arianna
Earlier today I discovered the joys of modern technology. After a frustrating 20 minutes earlier in the day at the end of my shift for the Writing Center, a meeting was set up for me with the AU Web Team later that day. I've been working on our pathetic little website for quite sometime now, and nothing has really come out of my efforts. So because of those ridiculous 20 minutes this morning of wondering what the hell was going on, I had this dreaded meeting at 4:15.
I had rushed out of the darkroom, leaving my prints to dry at about 4:13, so I knew I would be late. I almost think I did it to spite the fact that I reallyreally didn't want to go to this meeting, but probably not. I hurried to the streetlight corner and then turned south up Main Street. Each step I took resulted in a loss of momentum. The trampled snow was about an inch thick, and it was almost like walking in sand. As I struggled, my thoughts drifted to what the meeting would be like. Assuming it would be like most Technology Servicing I've experienced in the past, it would be all my fault, and they would fix it out of the kindness of their hearts.
Except it would NOT be my fault, and they're getting paid to do this.
My frustration mounted with each difficult step and each new thought of this STUPID meeting. I was also attempting to walk up the hill near Nana's.
Four minutes later I found myself in a the blandest office anyone could ever imagine. Nothing on the boring brown desk except for a large bottle, nothing on the stark white walls except for a student working schedule. I looked out the small window (which had a small green, ruffled curtain along the top), and saw a boring view of the side of the Terracotta. How could anyone possibly work here? The guy sitting at the desk was surprisingly nice and polite (thank God, or I would have bitten his head off), but he was using two computer screens.
Why on earth would anyone need two screens??
I hoped his desktop backgrounds were at least interesting.
His politeness calmed my nerves for a bit, but as I sat there (smelling the darkroom chemicals on my hands plus the purell I had used to cover it up), I realized just how grumpy I was. Staring at the bricks out the window, my heart went out to this guy who probably dealt with grumpy people all day AND who had to work in this God-forsaken office.
I took the edge out of my tone and tried to be as nice and generous as I could.
I still hate working on that website though.
I had rushed out of the darkroom, leaving my prints to dry at about 4:13, so I knew I would be late. I almost think I did it to spite the fact that I reallyreally didn't want to go to this meeting, but probably not. I hurried to the streetlight corner and then turned south up Main Street. Each step I took resulted in a loss of momentum. The trampled snow was about an inch thick, and it was almost like walking in sand. As I struggled, my thoughts drifted to what the meeting would be like. Assuming it would be like most Technology Servicing I've experienced in the past, it would be all my fault, and they would fix it out of the kindness of their hearts.
Except it would NOT be my fault, and they're getting paid to do this.
My frustration mounted with each difficult step and each new thought of this STUPID meeting. I was also attempting to walk up the hill near Nana's.
Four minutes later I found myself in a the blandest office anyone could ever imagine. Nothing on the boring brown desk except for a large bottle, nothing on the stark white walls except for a student working schedule. I looked out the small window (which had a small green, ruffled curtain along the top), and saw a boring view of the side of the Terracotta. How could anyone possibly work here? The guy sitting at the desk was surprisingly nice and polite (thank God, or I would have bitten his head off), but he was using two computer screens.
Why on earth would anyone need two screens??
I hoped his desktop backgrounds were at least interesting.
His politeness calmed my nerves for a bit, but as I sat there (smelling the darkroom chemicals on my hands plus the purell I had used to cover it up), I realized just how grumpy I was. Staring at the bricks out the window, my heart went out to this guy who probably dealt with grumpy people all day AND who had to work in this God-forsaken office.
I took the edge out of my tone and tried to be as nice and generous as I could.
I still hate working on that website though.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Alexis (Greek for defender of mankind)
I want a prickly pear but all I've got is a memory.
I only ever had one once but it was splendid. The skin a nice tropical green, acting like its own little undiscovered island with bumps all up and down it (the prickly part I s'pose). So you look at it and you're thinking, why should I want to eat this? what's it gonna be like? Then you take a knife and cut it open (or maybe you don't, but if you're me you take a knife and cut it open). Then you sigh, and you thank something - God or Darwinism, or Chaos, for pleasant surprises. You peel back the soft skin and there is the most beautiful shade of magenta you ever saw, a discontinued shade of lipstick, not exactly juicy but more watery and delicate. It smells just like it looks- watery and delicate and lipsticky. You take that in for a moment, share it with your friends, take a picture and then you eat. Good lord it tastes like perfume. It tastes like a flower.
disclaimer: this memory may have been embellished over time.
I only ever had one once but it was splendid. The skin a nice tropical green, acting like its own little undiscovered island with bumps all up and down it (the prickly part I s'pose). So you look at it and you're thinking, why should I want to eat this? what's it gonna be like? Then you take a knife and cut it open (or maybe you don't, but if you're me you take a knife and cut it open). Then you sigh, and you thank something - God or Darwinism, or Chaos, for pleasant surprises. You peel back the soft skin and there is the most beautiful shade of magenta you ever saw, a discontinued shade of lipstick, not exactly juicy but more watery and delicate. It smells just like it looks- watery and delicate and lipsticky. You take that in for a moment, share it with your friends, take a picture and then you eat. Good lord it tastes like perfume. It tastes like a flower.
disclaimer: this memory may have been embellished over time.
Victor D. Franco
02.17.10
Self-analysis aloud
I'm not afraid of death.
I've always known I have a fascination with tragic characters, and tragedy in general; tragedy that could be much better, tragedy that does not deserve to have ended in tragedy. I watch Nip/Tuck...that should explain a lot. I'm very dark, not being afraid to delve into the depths of the human soul to look for answers. Some people are afraid of being hurt...you could say that, in many ways, I am not.
Despite my nature, sometimes I look at the bubbly people and wish I could be more like them. I am trying to not be a cynist, but how do you get rid of something that you've een around since childhood? (my parents were and still are huge cynists)
I am trying. I look at myself as awkward for trying. I'm soft-spoken, sometimes fearing what may come out of my mouth. I fear my flaws, and I'm trying to get rid of them.
Yes, I am just...human; human in different ways than some other people. I am unique. That uniqueness comes from the light which constantly battles the darkness inside, manifesting itself in soft-spoken-ness, politeness, and inability to make quick decisions. The quiet ones are the ones who usually have the most going on.
I think I think too much and this is probably too much. Yet...here it is. Here it all is.
Self-analysis aloud
I'm not afraid of death.
I've always known I have a fascination with tragic characters, and tragedy in general; tragedy that could be much better, tragedy that does not deserve to have ended in tragedy. I watch Nip/Tuck...that should explain a lot. I'm very dark, not being afraid to delve into the depths of the human soul to look for answers. Some people are afraid of being hurt...you could say that, in many ways, I am not.
Despite my nature, sometimes I look at the bubbly people and wish I could be more like them. I am trying to not be a cynist, but how do you get rid of something that you've een around since childhood? (my parents were and still are huge cynists)
I am trying. I look at myself as awkward for trying. I'm soft-spoken, sometimes fearing what may come out of my mouth. I fear my flaws, and I'm trying to get rid of them.
Yes, I am just...human; human in different ways than some other people. I am unique. That uniqueness comes from the light which constantly battles the darkness inside, manifesting itself in soft-spoken-ness, politeness, and inability to make quick decisions. The quiet ones are the ones who usually have the most going on.
I think I think too much and this is probably too much. Yet...here it is. Here it all is.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Arianna
I love music. Who doesn't? Okay I know some people...
So here's this song. I heard it in a movie once and fell in love with it and the movie.
Warm strings start soft, get even softer before the build. The cellos and flute provide tension. The volume increases so quickly I get chills.
Timpani!
Half way through the repetitive melody puts a spin on itself. Cellos create different rhythyms from the expected bum--bumbum-bum-bum and change to more syncopation, almost offbeat but
Minor breaks to major and a lulling bridge played sweetly by the clarinet and oboe, the same note, but very different sounds, violins playing the background, but only sprinkling themselves in when necessary. Strings barely playing, but still audible, now they split amongst themselves and the rest of the orchestra fills in. Back to minor
Timpani!!
Something in the background continues the bridge while the rest of the musicians go back to the repetitive melody I now know (and love by heart).
Allegro and major chords breaks the tension.
Loud loud loud loud. Soft Soft Soft soft. Loud loud loud loud. Tri-pull-et softs.
Piccolo and french horn softly continue the while the strings pluck along. This could end with me falling asleep.
(Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92, II. Allegretto)
So here's this song. I heard it in a movie once and fell in love with it and the movie.
Warm strings start soft, get even softer before the build. The cellos and flute provide tension. The volume increases so quickly I get chills.
Timpani!
Half way through the repetitive melody puts a spin on itself. Cellos create different rhythyms from the expected bum--bumbum-bum-bum and change to more syncopation, almost offbeat but
Minor breaks to major and a lulling bridge played sweetly by the clarinet and oboe, the same note, but very different sounds, violins playing the background, but only sprinkling themselves in when necessary. Strings barely playing, but still audible, now they split amongst themselves and the rest of the orchestra fills in. Back to minor
Timpani!!
Something in the background continues the bridge while the rest of the musicians go back to the repetitive melody I now know (and love by heart).
Allegro and major chords breaks the tension.
Loud loud loud loud. Soft Soft Soft soft. Loud loud loud loud. Tri-pull-et softs.
Piccolo and french horn softly continue the while the strings pluck along. This could end with me falling asleep.
(Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92, II. Allegretto)
Justine Cruz
Reading your article was very interesting, my favorite part was when you are talking about really taking the time to look at piece of art instead of just glancing over it. The thing that I enjoy most about your work is that you incorporate clouds, which has always been something that my mom and I talk about; the color of the clouds really. When you look up at the sky the clouds are never just white, they are purple with shades of gray and blue and sometimes pink, very rarely are clouds just white, so I feel by looking at clouds more in depth you find out more than whats on the surface.I feel as if the more that I investigate a work of art the more I get out of it, I start to think about the process of the piece and the steps that were taken to achieve this final cloud tile. By examining the piece more closely without letting my fingers trace over the raised section of cracks towards the middle, I'm curious to how many layers where applied to create this texture of a soft, smooth cloud yet in a geometric shape.
Jenna Bloodough
Finally,
so my thought was after reading the article, that there is a fascination with nature in the sense that nature is an all natural art form. Nature is not hand made. I am curious as to how you decide which marks to make so your pieces create the feeling of freshness. The piece in the gallery felt like a cloud. I am curious as to the creative process in regards of mark making considering the piece in the gallery is minimal yet portrays a great amount.
so my thought was after reading the article, that there is a fascination with nature in the sense that nature is an all natural art form. Nature is not hand made. I am curious as to how you decide which marks to make so your pieces create the feeling of freshness. The piece in the gallery felt like a cloud. I am curious as to the creative process in regards of mark making considering the piece in the gallery is minimal yet portrays a great amount.
Cindi Kelly and Grace
I sit and do a body scan. Still that one place in my right groin that is tight. I try to expand my inner vision to see where this pain is coming from. Is it to the right of that muscle? Is it from the top of my right hip? What's happening on the left side of my body? How can I adjust to ease the discomfort? Breathe. Ahhhh. A little release. Not complete but any break from this one little spot of pain is appreciated. Oh, my shoulders are tight. My arms and hands are tight. A thought and a breath to those parts of my body. The body is feeling better with each breath. A little more aware, I can now start my day.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Ursula's long overdue post and question
Long week or has it been weeks. Long meaning i'm not really sure if I'm in the AM or PM. Should I be in my pajamas or my work clothes that are really my nice clothes covered in clay particles and imaginary pieces of glass because i can't really see them. I'm having trouble keeping my lids open on my face so i pull my hair back through my fingers in attempts to wake me but it doesn't work. I just want to move my hands through material whether it be hot or wet and cold I don't care. It's the only thing that wakes me from being dull. I need to draw or something. Give me a pen.
I forgot to do a lot of things because I didn't have time between sleep, eat, work and trying to stay awake.I went to the Fostic Nelson sometime ago and remember the person working at the desk having quite an eye on me like I was waving around a large sharpie screaming "If you don't stop me I will vandalize everything including the floor". I just had a really blank stare and was wearing some natural clay toned jeans with hiking boots...i don't know what shirt I was wearing or what my hair looked like. The important thing is I was on a hunt looking for Wayne's piece. I found it instantly...because I just know things I guess or maybe because it resembles earth cloud because it was white and all...but most likely because nothing else seemed to have Higby written beside it. I walked up to it to find it having large cracks in the piece. I was of a discomfort because of the woman at the desk who was still staring at me. I left quickly without much thought besides this question:
I saw the cracks which were prominent and assuming important to the piece. Where they are placed, was this intentional?
I went to the glass studio shortly thereafter...and tried not to fall asleep.
I forgot to do a lot of things because I didn't have time between sleep, eat, work and trying to stay awake.I went to the Fostic Nelson sometime ago and remember the person working at the desk having quite an eye on me like I was waving around a large sharpie screaming "If you don't stop me I will vandalize everything including the floor". I just had a really blank stare and was wearing some natural clay toned jeans with hiking boots...i don't know what shirt I was wearing or what my hair looked like. The important thing is I was on a hunt looking for Wayne's piece. I found it instantly...because I just know things I guess or maybe because it resembles earth cloud because it was white and all...but most likely because nothing else seemed to have Higby written beside it. I walked up to it to find it having large cracks in the piece. I was of a discomfort because of the woman at the desk who was still staring at me. I left quickly without much thought besides this question:
I saw the cracks which were prominent and assuming important to the piece. Where they are placed, was this intentional?
I went to the glass studio shortly thereafter...and tried not to fall asleep.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Arianna
Noticed at 1:12 am
After sleeping a fitful 2 hours, I awake to jarring pain. Organs feel as if they're ripped from my insides and put back together in the wrong place. I turn and turn and turn in my bed, trying to find the least painful position, which apparently doesn't exist.
Two questions blind my consciousness as I sit up:
1. Do I need to vomit?
(No)
2. Will I live through the night? Who will and when will they find my body, once curled up in pain, now relaxed to some ridiculous "dead" position? Should I put on pants just in case?
(I can't answer these as easily)
Admittedly, question 2 got a little out of hand. But at night, my thoughts don't just run wild, they run far far far out to where reason doesn't matter anymore. Where dreams, hopes, fears blend with my memory of everyday life.
A third question: What do I do now? I have no peptobismol, and tums would just make me nauseous.
I lumber around my room, opening my cellphone for light as I look for my Pain Reliever PM, which I pray to any sentient being will work. I swallow them without water, dry heave once, then crawl back into bed and lie flat on my back. Staring at my plain white ceiling, I try to reign in my thoughts from the edge of ridiculous. "It'll be gone by morning," I think. "You're fine." "You've kind of been through this before." "It's okay."
I eventually fall asleep, ready to think about something else.
After sleeping a fitful 2 hours, I awake to jarring pain. Organs feel as if they're ripped from my insides and put back together in the wrong place. I turn and turn and turn in my bed, trying to find the least painful position, which apparently doesn't exist.
Two questions blind my consciousness as I sit up:
1. Do I need to vomit?
(No)
2. Will I live through the night? Who will and when will they find my body, once curled up in pain, now relaxed to some ridiculous "dead" position? Should I put on pants just in case?
(I can't answer these as easily)
Admittedly, question 2 got a little out of hand. But at night, my thoughts don't just run wild, they run far far far out to where reason doesn't matter anymore. Where dreams, hopes, fears blend with my memory of everyday life.
A third question: What do I do now? I have no peptobismol, and tums would just make me nauseous.
I lumber around my room, opening my cellphone for light as I look for my Pain Reliever PM, which I pray to any sentient being will work. I swallow them without water, dry heave once, then crawl back into bed and lie flat on my back. Staring at my plain white ceiling, I try to reign in my thoughts from the edge of ridiculous. "It'll be gone by morning," I think. "You're fine." "You've kind of been through this before." "It's okay."
I eventually fall asleep, ready to think about something else.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Victor D. Franco
02.13.10
After having a brunch consisting of tomato soup, a tuna wrap, and Life cereal around 1:40-ish, I went to Harder. It is almost impossible, as an art student with 18 credits, to spend a weekend without visiting Harder. First, I went to the Binns-Merrill painting studio to gesso two large pieces of paper, and then came the fun: the clay studio. My project has taken on a life of its own...and I just went with the flow. When I came in, I discovered that the clay had become too dry (I put wet cheesecloth on it yesterday that wasn't wet ENOUGH). So, I scored the dry parts extremely...and then I started working on it again.
I have learned to never wring my cheesecloth.
After having a brunch consisting of tomato soup, a tuna wrap, and Life cereal around 1:40-ish, I went to Harder. It is almost impossible, as an art student with 18 credits, to spend a weekend without visiting Harder. First, I went to the Binns-Merrill painting studio to gesso two large pieces of paper, and then came the fun: the clay studio. My project has taken on a life of its own...and I just went with the flow. When I came in, I discovered that the clay had become too dry (I put wet cheesecloth on it yesterday that wasn't wet ENOUGH). So, I scored the dry parts extremely...and then I started working on it again.
I have learned to never wring my cheesecloth.
Arianna
A flurry of emotions sets in while a flurry outside does as well.
Can I do this? I think I can... !
Tears try to push themselves out, but I stop them with thoughts. They're happy tears. Just unwanted at the moment.
My nose is running - awesome. I wipe it on my sweater. Arianna, shall we revert to when we were five
I hear footsteps and they slow as they near the hallway. Shuffle.shuffle.shuffle.peek? Walk back the other way trying to pretend they weren't there.
I look up and see they're running reflection on the glass and giggle inside, smile outside.
It's hard to not be mindful with something like this.
Though now I find that I remember random little details almost more than the overarching event.
Sweaty-ass hands (mine)
Tone of voice (his)
Smiling silence (ours)
What an exhausting day.
Can I do this? I think I can... !
Tears try to push themselves out, but I stop them with thoughts. They're happy tears. Just unwanted at the moment.
My nose is running - awesome. I wipe it on my sweater. Arianna, shall we revert to when we were five
I hear footsteps and they slow as they near the hallway. Shuffle.shuffle.shuffle.peek? Walk back the other way trying to pretend they weren't there.
I look up and see they're running reflection on the glass and giggle inside, smile outside.
It's hard to not be mindful with something like this.
Though now I find that I remember random little details almost more than the overarching event.
Sweaty-ass hands (mine)
Tone of voice (his)
Smiling silence (ours)
What an exhausting day.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Crowley, Alexis C.
watching apples being peeled for a pie white flesh green skin metal knife wood board fresh sweet light heady smell damp curious crunch. and so on and so forth.
Victor D. Franco
02.12.10
So, after my Psych. Methods & Statistics test...around 10:20, I went to Miller to see Earthcloud. It evokes the feelings of serenity yet...danger or a 'leap-of-faith-I'm-going-to-go-sky-dive-now' feeling -perhaps that is because it is at the top, near the ceiling (it is on the level of the observer's eye level). I felt like I could almost touch Earthcloud, it was there with me. Perhaps this is how Wayne feels about the clouds when he is near them...perhaps this is how I or anyone else would feel.
A simple observation: Earthcloud spans a wall and surrounds a round wooden bench-like object -is it a bench? This could be taken to mean that we of the Earth can touch the Heavens...the clouds and the earth are indeed very close together. Judging by Wayne's Stratocumulus, I would say Earthcloud is based on a theory: we are wrought from the clouds to the Earth and go back again to the clouds. Hmmm, one could take this on the Christianity and/or reincarnation route...
It is not a wonder why there are serveral books written based on Earthcloud.
So, after my Psych. Methods & Statistics test...around 10:20, I went to Miller to see Earthcloud. It evokes the feelings of serenity yet...danger or a 'leap-of-faith-I'm-going-to-go-sky-dive-now' feeling -perhaps that is because it is at the top, near the ceiling (it is on the level of the observer's eye level). I felt like I could almost touch Earthcloud, it was there with me. Perhaps this is how Wayne feels about the clouds when he is near them...perhaps this is how I or anyone else would feel.
A simple observation: Earthcloud spans a wall and surrounds a round wooden bench-like object -is it a bench? This could be taken to mean that we of the Earth can touch the Heavens...the clouds and the earth are indeed very close together. Judging by Wayne's Stratocumulus, I would say Earthcloud is based on a theory: we are wrought from the clouds to the Earth and go back again to the clouds. Hmmm, one could take this on the Christianity and/or reincarnation route...
It is not a wonder why there are serveral books written based on Earthcloud.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Elliott
How do you expect people to look at art and not judge it? It's in human nature to judge things and everyone wants to be a critic so no one is really seeing the piece for what it is until it has been explained. I also think it is impossible to separate past experiences from the senses because it is the job of the senses to jog the memory. About your piece, what are you trying to portray with this piece?
Cindi Kelly
Still have a toothache and that's all I can feel and think about. So dive into the pain. I can't even tell which tooth is hurting. There are about 3 of them that feel like suspects. Maybe it's my sinuses. Pain in my ear. I know. More ibuprofen for lunch. I started penicillin but it hasn't kicked in yet. That's ok. I think I'll work through lunch instead of eating. Have to finish the "sculpture" project and then I think I'll head to the studio to work on handbuilding project. I feel like I'm getting behind again and work keeps getting thrown at us. It's ok. My mantra today is "one breath at a time."
Arianna
Noticed at 7:30pm
Dinner round two. After realizing that it's been awhile since I've had a vegetable, it's time to pull them out after a dinner of only scrambled eggs. Tasting pre-cut, slightly dehydrated carrots. They still have a juicy sweet center, and I'll admit it: I love them. Then tasting cucumbers. My first bite is large so I can eat most of the seedy innards, then smaller bites to finish off the crescent moon that's left. Then tasting another carrot then tasting a green pepper strip. It tastes sour? No, there's just a lot of spark, bite, snap.
Smelling all of the above, plus cooking vegetable oil from another apartment nearby. Is that... popcorn?
Feeling the soft fuzzy inside of my sweater. Even though it's toasty warm, I'm not. I need more sweaters.
Hearing the heater slightly buzz, then it clankclangclanks off. I wonder if the people below us have a percussion concert every time our heater stops.
Watching my apartment mate as she refills a small ketchup bottle from the large one because only the small one fits in the drawer. We currently have 3 partially filled bottles of ketchup in the apartment. Now they're all on the coffee table. Right next to my film camera.
I should move that.
Dinner round two. After realizing that it's been awhile since I've had a vegetable, it's time to pull them out after a dinner of only scrambled eggs. Tasting pre-cut, slightly dehydrated carrots. They still have a juicy sweet center, and I'll admit it: I love them. Then tasting cucumbers. My first bite is large so I can eat most of the seedy innards, then smaller bites to finish off the crescent moon that's left. Then tasting another carrot then tasting a green pepper strip. It tastes sour? No, there's just a lot of spark, bite, snap.
Smelling all of the above, plus cooking vegetable oil from another apartment nearby. Is that... popcorn?
Feeling the soft fuzzy inside of my sweater. Even though it's toasty warm, I'm not. I need more sweaters.
Hearing the heater slightly buzz, then it clankclangclanks off. I wonder if the people below us have a percussion concert every time our heater stops.
Watching my apartment mate as she refills a small ketchup bottle from the large one because only the small one fits in the drawer. We currently have 3 partially filled bottles of ketchup in the apartment. Now they're all on the coffee table. Right next to my film camera.
I should move that.
Alexis C. Crowley
Woke up late again, this time i love it though. Snackin on some stolen cereal from the dining hall for brunch. sweet explosive crunches full of grandma's house and cartoon movies and 'days of our lives'. One of my pillowcases reminds me of the peanuts comic strip- most especially snoopy and schroeder.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Kathleen Rabe
5 vessles: nutritional yeast, koser salt, pepper, wine jug, mason jar full of water. yellow, white, black, green, clear. clear?.. green, blue, yellow, white.. not quite clear.
I can see a white sheet drying in my studio. It is drapped over my work table and chair. It looks like someone died.
Every once in a while the fire cracks or a car drives by. The fire cracks more then the cars come.
The trash went out today but the compost is still here. It is like the garden was harvested last month. Rotten and sweet.
My legs are hairy, and I am acutely aware of the crease in my stomic.
My face is on fire with the taste of raw garlic. Stinging in my nose and under my tonge. I should plant some more garlic..
I can see a white sheet drying in my studio. It is drapped over my work table and chair. It looks like someone died.
Every once in a while the fire cracks or a car drives by. The fire cracks more then the cars come.
The trash went out today but the compost is still here. It is like the garden was harvested last month. Rotten and sweet.
My legs are hairy, and I am acutely aware of the crease in my stomic.
My face is on fire with the taste of raw garlic. Stinging in my nose and under my tonge. I should plant some more garlic..
Elliott
Today at noon I enjoyed a hot steaming bowl of spaghettios and meatballs. My mind and body were at ease after my horrifying experience at my first class of the day, history. I somehow slept halfway through my class when I suddenly startled awake and I found myself running as fast as I could to class. The reason I was so stressed before was because in that class we were scheduled to have a quiz that I slept through. Luckily I went to class and sadly had to tell as small fib. I told the professor I was late because I did not feel well and he excused me and allowed me to take the quiz. While enjoying my skettios, I began to think in more depth about my quiz. I realized I made two mistakes on my quiz, but as I like to do, think positively and luckily I did not receive a zero on the quiz.
Arianna
Noticed at 6:30 pm.
Working at the library again. Quite a few visitors for a snowy night.
Feeling my head ache. Not too painful, but enough to distract my attention and make my sentences choppy. Feeling cold, all over. No, a warm heart. (Eww- how is it that the most cliche phrases are the most true?) Also feel anticipatory for something that I don't know what. A surprise but not really but yes really. A surprise for my warm heart.
Tasting sumptuous smooth chocolate that my boss gave me for Sunday's holiday. I'll be able to get dinner later.
Smelling cucumber melon triple moisture body cream that I put on my hands over two hours ago. Triple moisture? Maybe just double, but I suppose it's comforting that the scent has stuck around. It might be fueling my headache, though.
Hearing as always the typing computer, important whispered conversation that the library always seems to attract. They really don't need to whisper (I giggle on the inside). The library has two rooms; anything you say aloud I will probably be able to hear. Is the "secret" from me or from the general public? It's not that big of a secret, yet I'll keep it. For now. Also hearing the police sirens from next door. Is it anything important? I wait for the siren to sound, but it doesn't. Guess not.
Seeing. How could I almost forget you? Then I realize, there's nothing to see, or nothing out of the ordinary at least. I look to the windows for inspiration, but it's already dark. I only see the reflection of the insides of the library. The books on the shelves, waiting. The donation bin on the desk, waiting. The fine box, waiting. The magazine rack, the DVD shelf, the to-shelve cart, all waiting for something.
And me, checking the clock, thinking of the exact place my Advil sits on my desk back at home.
Working at the library again. Quite a few visitors for a snowy night.
Feeling my head ache. Not too painful, but enough to distract my attention and make my sentences choppy. Feeling cold, all over. No, a warm heart. (Eww- how is it that the most cliche phrases are the most true?) Also feel anticipatory for something that I don't know what. A surprise but not really but yes really. A surprise for my warm heart.
Tasting sumptuous smooth chocolate that my boss gave me for Sunday's holiday. I'll be able to get dinner later.
Smelling cucumber melon triple moisture body cream that I put on my hands over two hours ago. Triple moisture? Maybe just double, but I suppose it's comforting that the scent has stuck around. It might be fueling my headache, though.
Hearing as always the typing computer, important whispered conversation that the library always seems to attract. They really don't need to whisper (I giggle on the inside). The library has two rooms; anything you say aloud I will probably be able to hear. Is the "secret" from me or from the general public? It's not that big of a secret, yet I'll keep it. For now. Also hearing the police sirens from next door. Is it anything important? I wait for the siren to sound, but it doesn't. Guess not.
Seeing. How could I almost forget you? Then I realize, there's nothing to see, or nothing out of the ordinary at least. I look to the windows for inspiration, but it's already dark. I only see the reflection of the insides of the library. The books on the shelves, waiting. The donation bin on the desk, waiting. The fine box, waiting. The magazine rack, the DVD shelf, the to-shelve cart, all waiting for something.
And me, checking the clock, thinking of the exact place my Advil sits on my desk back at home.
Crowley, Alexis
Everything looks like a composition today.I helped unload the kiln earlier but I wasn't doing much, so I had time to look up- something I don't think I've done in the kiln room before. When I looked up the first thing I saw were the friggen strangest lights hanging like yellow strawberries from the ceiling, and the closest one was swaying because the vents were blowing so hard. The lights curved away so nicely and to the left of them was the procession of the straight planed kilns, following the same curve, and the pipes were coming in and breaking it up so neatly and comfortably.
Then I looked up out the window to see the snow, and if you blur your eyes and pretend that everything that wasn't white was black it was a Franz Kline painting.
On the table, next to me, right now, there is a roll of masking tape, a big rubber band, a little rubber band, a pin, a rectangle of sandpaper, a highlighter yellow index card and a pen forming this stupid nice still life. I say stupid nice because I hate still lifes of nothing (or still lifes in general)but I must admit it looks good. Noone put that there, that happened there. How dare those objects be so unwillingly perfect, like they can make the mundane sacred.
Then I looked up out the window to see the snow, and if you blur your eyes and pretend that everything that wasn't white was black it was a Franz Kline painting.
On the table, next to me, right now, there is a roll of masking tape, a big rubber band, a little rubber band, a pin, a rectangle of sandpaper, a highlighter yellow index card and a pen forming this stupid nice still life. I say stupid nice because I hate still lifes of nothing (or still lifes in general)but I must admit it looks good. Noone put that there, that happened there. How dare those objects be so unwillingly perfect, like they can make the mundane sacred.
Victor D. Franco
02.10.10 *No post yesterday, Tues. Feb. 09*
After an I finished an art therapy meeting today that ended around two...I headed to Powell with a teacher to find out how to start an art therapy club. Finally, at 2:45-ish, I had lunch: a bit of tortellini salad, some beef and barely soup, and a ham, swiss, and pickle sandwich on wheat bread. I try to make it a point to never skip a meal...no matter what...because I'm pretty low on energy as it is (iron deficiency).
I am really happy that I went ahead and gathered all those people at that meeting...I feel like what we talked about there has potential...
I am never not busy...almost never.
After an I finished an art therapy meeting today that ended around two...I headed to Powell with a teacher to find out how to start an art therapy club. Finally, at 2:45-ish, I had lunch: a bit of tortellini salad, some beef and barely soup, and a ham, swiss, and pickle sandwich on wheat bread. I try to make it a point to never skip a meal...no matter what...because I'm pretty low on energy as it is (iron deficiency).
I am really happy that I went ahead and gathered all those people at that meeting...I feel like what we talked about there has potential...
I am never not busy...almost never.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Elliott
At 12 o'clock I returned to my bed after lunch. I was trying to catch up on some rest because I had to wake up at 4:47 in the morning. I was unsuccessful at doing so because I was trying to adjust myself into a comfortable position. Then I thought about stuff I had to do. Thinking about all the stuff I had to do on top of being so tired caused me to stress out some. My muscles became tense and I found it very difficult to achieve my goal of relaxation. The pounding of my neighbors music did not make it any easier to fall asleep. Boom-ba-boom-boom-boom echoed through the walls, my room and my head. Suddenly exhaustion overcame me and I fell asleep. I woke with a start and realized it was time to go to class.
Cindi Kelly
I have a toothache. What should I eat that won't hurt? I brought some green grapes and key lime pie yogurt because I figured that these items might be easy on my tooth. Bur honestly I don't really feel like eating right now. What do I feel? Am I tired or full of energy? I think I would rate my energy level at 5 on a scale of 1 to 10. A breath check. It seems to be flowing unobstructed through my body. Although it may be activating a little pain when I breathe deep. You know how the sinuses and teeth seem connected. What's happening in my mind? Ha. Not much. Still reeling from the stepdaughters dramatic scene the other night. STAY OUT OF MY MIND PSYCHO B---H!!!!!!
Back to the toothache. It's talking to me. STOP IT!!!! I am going to see a dentist tomorrow though I don't have an appointment and may have to sit there for awhile praying that he will have time to see me.(I believe in God, too, Victor). Today is the day that Bonnaroo is announcing the lineup. I have a lot of work to do. Breathe. A little tension in the neck. Could be related to the damn toothache. Enough. Give me clarity. (Talking to God again.) That's what I would like for today. That and more advil.
Back to the toothache. It's talking to me. STOP IT!!!! I am going to see a dentist tomorrow though I don't have an appointment and may have to sit there for awhile praying that he will have time to see me.(I believe in God, too, Victor). Today is the day that Bonnaroo is announcing the lineup. I have a lot of work to do. Breathe. A little tension in the neck. Could be related to the damn toothache. Enough. Give me clarity. (Talking to God again.) That's what I would like for today. That and more advil.
Arianna's Question
First let me say that I love clouds. Clouds clouds clouds. When I fly, I'm always happy with a rainy day because once we're in the air, I have something interesting to look at. Saying this, I loved your work because I felt it embodied the idea of a cloud (not being able to look past certain layers, and being okay with this).
So my question(s) is/are: Why did you choose (or why have you chosen in the past) to look at clouds for inspiration? Also, what's the timetable of your creative process? Not "how long does it take," but more, what do you see when you know (if you know) that a piece is complete and ready for exhibition?
So my question(s) is/are: Why did you choose (or why have you chosen in the past) to look at clouds for inspiration? Also, what's the timetable of your creative process? Not "how long does it take," but more, what do you see when you know (if you know) that a piece is complete and ready for exhibition?
Monday, February 8, 2010
Victor D. Franco
Monday, 02.08.10 (No post for yesterday)
This has yet been the umpteenth time I've lost something. Before, its been my suite/mailbox keys, my phone, and my studio locker keys. This time it was my laptop. For some reason...well yeah, because of my forgetfulness...I leave important thinsg everywhere. It is like things need to be on my person or attached to my body somehow in order for me not to forget them. But, I found it. Thank God. I believed I would find it and I did. Its like that book The Secret. But I trust in God...and that's my little secret. He never lets me down ;)
Yeah okay, don't freak out okay! Its not like you don't have your...uniqueness...whoever you are who's reading this. So, stop judging :D
Lunch...was a chicken ceasar wrap and cranberry juice. Not very exciting. I got right to work on my clay project right afterwards.
This has yet been the umpteenth time I've lost something. Before, its been my suite/mailbox keys, my phone, and my studio locker keys. This time it was my laptop. For some reason...well yeah, because of my forgetfulness...I leave important thinsg everywhere. It is like things need to be on my person or attached to my body somehow in order for me not to forget them. But, I found it. Thank God. I believed I would find it and I did. Its like that book The Secret. But I trust in God...and that's my little secret. He never lets me down ;)
Yeah okay, don't freak out okay! Its not like you don't have your...uniqueness...whoever you are who's reading this. So, stop judging :D
Lunch...was a chicken ceasar wrap and cranberry juice. Not very exciting. I got right to work on my clay project right afterwards.
Elliott
At first I was just writing about whatever interested me the most about my day. Now I will get back on track with the actual assignment of writing about one particular time of day; that time of day will be noon.
Day 1:
I was walking back from the studio. I focus on the ground while I walk, I have a tendency to admire cracks the the different surfaces of the ground. My favorite kinds of cracks are those in asphalt that disperse like spider webs across the blacktop. On occasion I like to try to walk primarily on the larger segments of the asphalt, somewhat playing a game with myself; that I can only step on pieces that will allow my entire foot to fit. Occasionally I would look up at the sky to see what the weather is like. Today there were a few clouds scattered throughout the sky. When my eyes returned back the ground I noticed the snow has yet to melt, there were no puddles to watch out for and it's just an easy walk back to the suites.
Day 1:
I was walking back from the studio. I focus on the ground while I walk, I have a tendency to admire cracks the the different surfaces of the ground. My favorite kinds of cracks are those in asphalt that disperse like spider webs across the blacktop. On occasion I like to try to walk primarily on the larger segments of the asphalt, somewhat playing a game with myself; that I can only step on pieces that will allow my entire foot to fit. Occasionally I would look up at the sky to see what the weather is like. Today there were a few clouds scattered throughout the sky. When my eyes returned back the ground I noticed the snow has yet to melt, there were no puddles to watch out for and it's just an easy walk back to the suites.
Arianna
Noticed at 4:33 pm
Walking back up the long hills. It's sunny (a miracle!) and cold, of course, but I'm feeling too good to walk up Powell's endless steps. I walk toward the building, but sidestep it, walking past the smokers' benches and around the side to the little garden area. I stomp up the couple flights of steps (why do I do that?), noticing the chipping red-crimson paint on the railings. Underneath is a hard gray, but the red adds character. I briefly wonder how many people have used it before me, but then the moment has passed and I'm half way up the hill.
I stop, staring and the campus lawn in front of me. Pristine snow is broken only by the shadows of distant trees (the sun is just above it's setting hill now). I try to follow the trail of one of the shadows back, but then I realize that it doesn't matter. I take a mental picture (snap!) and then walk onward, raising my shoulders against the brisk wind.
Smelling, my scarf, which other than cold, smells like home - Alfred home at least. A little bit like yeast because I was baking yesterday.
I hear a car turn onto Park Street, a couple walking toward Powell, my occasionally crunchy steps.
Feeling really good. Cold, but just too good to be worried about it.
Tasting, the remnants of a winter mint a friend gave me, very little of the flavor left.
Almost there, I wonder what will happen tonight.
Walking back up the long hills. It's sunny (a miracle!) and cold, of course, but I'm feeling too good to walk up Powell's endless steps. I walk toward the building, but sidestep it, walking past the smokers' benches and around the side to the little garden area. I stomp up the couple flights of steps (why do I do that?), noticing the chipping red-crimson paint on the railings. Underneath is a hard gray, but the red adds character. I briefly wonder how many people have used it before me, but then the moment has passed and I'm half way up the hill.
I stop, staring and the campus lawn in front of me. Pristine snow is broken only by the shadows of distant trees (the sun is just above it's setting hill now). I try to follow the trail of one of the shadows back, but then I realize that it doesn't matter. I take a mental picture (snap!) and then walk onward, raising my shoulders against the brisk wind.
Smelling, my scarf, which other than cold, smells like home - Alfred home at least. A little bit like yeast because I was baking yesterday.
I hear a car turn onto Park Street, a couple walking toward Powell, my occasionally crunchy steps.
Feeling really good. Cold, but just too good to be worried about it.
Tasting, the remnants of a winter mint a friend gave me, very little of the flavor left.
Almost there, I wonder what will happen tonight.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Elliott
Pizza and curly fries with a mixture of Mountain Dew, Sierra Mist and Iced Tea. Couldn't finish, I wasn't very hungry. Zipped up my coat put up my hood and pulled my hands into my sleeves. The long walk back to the suites from Powell was a frigid skin biting experience. Upon exiting the heated building I could feel my muscles tense up in reaction to the temperature outside and my back began to hurt. A cloudless dark blue sky was to blame for the iciness in the air. As Danielle and I walked I came across an ice pond on the side of the path decided to risk sliding on it and continued on my way as the cold penetrated deeper and deeper into my body. Danielle tripped over a pebble and started running similarly to a comment made by Ellen Degeneres that we had seen the night before, trying to act like she didn't actually trip. We were on the last stretch of our walk back to the suites and we finally made it inside, into the inviting heat and I relaxed instantly.
Katherine Lin
A new still life set was arranged by the entire class on Friday for my oil painting class. A skull-less skeleton was laid in the center.
There's this tendency of people manipulating human-formed figures to make funny gestures. The skeleton ended up holding a suitcase while its left foot half-stuck in a colorful high heel shoe. A bunch of fake flowers were inserted to the ribcage so it seemed to have a flower head. Later some flowers were moved to its pelves. People laughed throughout the process.
I slightly lost my temper because I didn't appreciate how the objects were treated. I like humor and love the occasional silliness. But I didn't find that funny. It reminded me the time a dead bird was part of our still life. People complained while having difficulty getting the details of the dead creature, some inappropriate words were said. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling similar to this.
I don't know what's the concept I'm trying to describe here. I think the objects themselves mean as much as the art works we make. It's like to draw a realistic drawing; a flat surface still has its subtle changes of color tone and texture and shouldn't be mindlessly covered with one color. Same for sculptors, one who loves his sculpture is aware of how the materials are put in. It's not necessarily the skill or neatness. But he must be aware of how each part is treated before he claims the work is finished. And this is not just about "art". Foods, furniture, tools, words, events, and thoughts all deserve to be treated mindfully.
I have difficulty appreciating "artsy action", or action that lacks of respect for the objects involved. If the action of misusing objects, images, or themes must be taken in order to accomplish certain types of art, I value appropriation and respect for the object more than this art.
Even though I don't consider myself very artistic, I guess I take it more seriously than I thought... just wish I'm more mature when it comes to dealing this kind of matter with people. Sorry guys.
There's this tendency of people manipulating human-formed figures to make funny gestures. The skeleton ended up holding a suitcase while its left foot half-stuck in a colorful high heel shoe. A bunch of fake flowers were inserted to the ribcage so it seemed to have a flower head. Later some flowers were moved to its pelves. People laughed throughout the process.
I slightly lost my temper because I didn't appreciate how the objects were treated. I like humor and love the occasional silliness. But I didn't find that funny. It reminded me the time a dead bird was part of our still life. People complained while having difficulty getting the details of the dead creature, some inappropriate words were said. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling similar to this.
I don't know what's the concept I'm trying to describe here. I think the objects themselves mean as much as the art works we make. It's like to draw a realistic drawing; a flat surface still has its subtle changes of color tone and texture and shouldn't be mindlessly covered with one color. Same for sculptors, one who loves his sculpture is aware of how the materials are put in. It's not necessarily the skill or neatness. But he must be aware of how each part is treated before he claims the work is finished. And this is not just about "art". Foods, furniture, tools, words, events, and thoughts all deserve to be treated mindfully.
I have difficulty appreciating "artsy action", or action that lacks of respect for the objects involved. If the action of misusing objects, images, or themes must be taken in order to accomplish certain types of art, I value appropriation and respect for the object more than this art.
Even though I don't consider myself very artistic, I guess I take it more seriously than I thought... just wish I'm more mature when it comes to dealing this kind of matter with people. Sorry guys.
Arianna
Noticed at 3:48 pm
Sitting at the library, waiting for 4 o'clock. Tasting the now less-carbonated-than-it-had-been-2-hours-ago Sierra Mist. Sweetly lemon flavor with tinytinytiny bubbles that play on my tongue.
Hearing the muffled traffic on Main Street, the blowing of the space heater next to me, the clicking of the public using their computers. The woman in the far corner who probably doesn't even realize she mumbles aloud as she's reading to herself. If I watch the clock, I can hear it tick down, but I lose it as soon as it's out of my sight.
Feeling cold... ish. Just my hands really. They've been out and typing and scanning and stamping and shelving and mouse-moving and texting the entire time. Head a little dizzy because someone else is in the room. My feet, my heels, the balls of my feet want out of these boots.
I think ahead to the apartment and my vision is blinded by my pictoral to-do list. Make the soft pretzels. Clean. Shower?
I watch the woman leave her seat at the computer, walk over to the fiction, then slowly walk back to the computer. I'll have to tell her soon that the library is closing. I compose in my head: "Just so you know..." "Just so you're aware..." "Um, excuse me..." "Hi..."
Maybe I'll just stand up and turn off the lights in the other room.
Sitting at the library, waiting for 4 o'clock. Tasting the now less-carbonated-than-it-had-been-2-hours-ago Sierra Mist. Sweetly lemon flavor with tinytinytiny bubbles that play on my tongue.
Hearing the muffled traffic on Main Street, the blowing of the space heater next to me, the clicking of the public using their computers. The woman in the far corner who probably doesn't even realize she mumbles aloud as she's reading to herself. If I watch the clock, I can hear it tick down, but I lose it as soon as it's out of my sight.
Feeling cold... ish. Just my hands really. They've been out and typing and scanning and stamping and shelving and mouse-moving and texting the entire time. Head a little dizzy because someone else is in the room. My feet, my heels, the balls of my feet want out of these boots.
I think ahead to the apartment and my vision is blinded by my pictoral to-do list. Make the soft pretzels. Clean. Shower?
I watch the woman leave her seat at the computer, walk over to the fiction, then slowly walk back to the computer. I'll have to tell her soon that the library is closing. I compose in my head: "Just so you know..." "Just so you're aware..." "Um, excuse me..." "Hi..."
Maybe I'll just stand up and turn off the lights in the other room.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Elliott
Slogging through the dead of winter with thick-bundled bodies and clouded breath and burning lungs, cautiously stepping from ice-free patch to ice-free patch, cursing the lazy grounds keepers for not putting out salt and the many cold and sunless days till March, we could use a little bright spot in all this gray. Perhaps a snowflake fluttering down just so, perfectly framing the universe for a hushed moment, or a cup of steaming hot chocolate cradled tenderly in grateful fingers, or even a friend flinging a playful snowball across our grumbling brows.
Arianna
Noticed at 5:55pm
Hungry for dinner, thinking of what to make. There's a can of black beans, and I've heard of people making black bean soup/stew. Time to make it up.
Starting to cut the onion: peeling the thin crisp from the outside; cutting one, two, three, four thin slices, then another for good measure, chop it crossways (more of a "copcopcopcop"). Since it's from the fridge, I didn't feel the sting in my tear ducts, but I was still nervous, overblinking and keeping my head away from the battlefield. copcopcop, scrapescrape into the pan. Garlic, peeled until smooth, thrown into the press, forced through tiny holes, smells delicious even raw. A three second pour of oil and the electric stove up to 4. I stir everything together with a wooden spoon, then wait for a sizzling, rubbing my thumb across the grain of the handle. waiting waiting
I turn and dice the green pepper, washing out seeds and cutting out whitish inner rind. copcopcopsizzlesizzle
I let everything stew - the smell of home is released, and I'm there, in the kitchen practically stepping on a cat, listening to the news on WTHR.
The door opens and my roommate's boyfriend walks in. I say, "She's not here." He thanks me and leaves. I turn back to the stove, stirring again, my memories stirred.
I open the can of black beans, rinse in the basket, and then dump, add chicken stock and stewstewstirstew for as long as it takes to crisp bacon and put it in as well. Add a random, appropriate amount of the following: lemon pepper, salt, chili pepper and paprika. Stir, taste for deliciousness, and wow. I melt; how could I have just faked something so sumptuous, hearty... crazy good.
Hungry for dinner, thinking of what to make. There's a can of black beans, and I've heard of people making black bean soup/stew. Time to make it up.
Starting to cut the onion: peeling the thin crisp from the outside; cutting one, two, three, four thin slices, then another for good measure, chop it crossways (more of a "copcopcopcop"). Since it's from the fridge, I didn't feel the sting in my tear ducts, but I was still nervous, overblinking and keeping my head away from the battlefield. copcopcop, scrapescrape into the pan. Garlic, peeled until smooth, thrown into the press, forced through tiny holes, smells delicious even raw. A three second pour of oil and the electric stove up to 4. I stir everything together with a wooden spoon, then wait for a sizzling, rubbing my thumb across the grain of the handle. waiting waiting
I turn and dice the green pepper, washing out seeds and cutting out whitish inner rind. copcopcopsizzlesizzle
I let everything stew - the smell of home is released, and I'm there, in the kitchen practically stepping on a cat, listening to the news on WTHR.
The door opens and my roommate's boyfriend walks in. I say, "She's not here." He thanks me and leaves. I turn back to the stove, stirring again, my memories stirred.
I open the can of black beans, rinse in the basket, and then dump, add chicken stock and stewstewstirstew for as long as it takes to crisp bacon and put it in as well. Add a random, appropriate amount of the following: lemon pepper, salt, chili pepper and paprika. Stir, taste for deliciousness, and wow. I melt; how could I have just faked something so sumptuous, hearty... crazy good.
mindlessness
Today I had a veggie sub for lunch. It's a Saturday ritual that Rick and I have. Subway for lunch. Shouldn't ritual create mindfulness? I feel like this ritual creates mindlessness. We plop down at our table in the back of the store and proceed to wolf down our food. I think this is because of fear that we will get a customer while we're eating. Actually we usually fear we will get no customers. It just seems that the minute you have a mouthful, somebody chooses that time to come in. Such was not the case today. We gobbled for no good reason. Mindful? Not today.
Cindi Kelly
Cindi Kelly
Question for Professor Higby
Professor Higby,
First let me say that I loved loved LOVED your speech. I especially liked the reading about the mind being of the earth and it only becomes mind when stimulated by the senses. I may have to read that book..... I wanted to touch your piece because it looked so soft and inviting, like clouds. I have lots of questions for you but will only keep it at one and I'm afraid that It's more technical than esoteric. How many layers of glaze were on the piece? By the way, I did refrain from touching it. Thank you. Cindi Kelly
First let me say that I loved loved LOVED your speech. I especially liked the reading about the mind being of the earth and it only becomes mind when stimulated by the senses. I may have to read that book..... I wanted to touch your piece because it looked so soft and inviting, like clouds. I have lots of questions for you but will only keep it at one and I'm afraid that It's more technical than esoteric. How many layers of glaze were on the piece? By the way, I did refrain from touching it. Thank you. Cindi Kelly
Victor D. Franco
02.06.10
I didn't really go to sleep that early yesterday. I can't afford to...:D I wouldn't if I could anyway. The posting time on here doesn't match up with my laptop's time. Something must be screwed up on some end.
This week has been...a week of running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Well, not like I was confused in regards to anything I needed to accomplish, but...its all a blur. That's how busy I've been. Thank God I got that day planner...
Wow, everyone must be pretty busy...no one has posted so far today.
So, I woke up this morning and have stayed in my room since then...a lot of reading to do, including a presentation based on a reading for Monday's Social Foundations of Education class. What a HEAP of work for 3 credits!!! Its mind boggling to me how she has the time...nevermind. You'd almost think it was...an art studio class.
What I've eaten for lunch today: two Wildberry Poptarts, a green apple, a banana...and yeah, that's in. It wasn't very appetizing...but, I have resolved not to leave my room until I finish what I need to finish. Except for maybe dinner and work later.
These posts have become more than about lunch. Its kind of unsettling...but, I'll go with it. I suppose, no almost garentee, that is the goal of Professor Higby -for us to post about more than what we eat.
I didn't really go to sleep that early yesterday. I can't afford to...:D I wouldn't if I could anyway. The posting time on here doesn't match up with my laptop's time. Something must be screwed up on some end.
This week has been...a week of running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Well, not like I was confused in regards to anything I needed to accomplish, but...its all a blur. That's how busy I've been. Thank God I got that day planner...
Wow, everyone must be pretty busy...no one has posted so far today.
So, I woke up this morning and have stayed in my room since then...a lot of reading to do, including a presentation based on a reading for Monday's Social Foundations of Education class. What a HEAP of work for 3 credits!!! Its mind boggling to me how she has the time...nevermind. You'd almost think it was...an art studio class.
What I've eaten for lunch today: two Wildberry Poptarts, a green apple, a banana...and yeah, that's in. It wasn't very appetizing...but, I have resolved not to leave my room until I finish what I need to finish. Except for maybe dinner and work later.
These posts have become more than about lunch. Its kind of unsettling...but, I'll go with it. I suppose, no almost garentee, that is the goal of Professor Higby -for us to post about more than what we eat.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Victor D. Franco
02.05.10
I used to dislike Alfred...I really did, last year. But, it seems that the more I stay here, the more I grow to like it. This has just dawned on me -had one of those 'AHA' moments. I've had some bad experiences here, but...people will be people, wherever we go, right? Yeah...I've done plenty looking at the negative aspect of things; there are times when everything around has seemed hopeless and pitch black. People anger me sometimes...with their indifference and cold way of being. For example, it is rare to find that one person who is bubbly, optimistic and will sit next to the quiet, lonely kid at the table. I admire that type of person...and seek to change for the better with every day I wake to. I dislike stagnant things -therefore, I have resolved to force myself to keep evolving. I try really hard...
Even if that means being the one to, for example, volunteer to speak in front of hundreds of people. This world needs more light, things seem to be getting worse, despite some progress here and there. People...just look miserable these days and it breaks my heart. I want to be a part of the light that will provide at least a little hope.
On a lighter note, perhaps...
hmmm, I forgot what I ate for lunch today. I ate some poorly-cooked pasta that someone brought in at my usual 12 noon to 1 Friday work study meeting...and I have carried an orange around all day that I never got to. Someone always brings something, and its usually dessert.
Off to sleep...
I used to dislike Alfred...I really did, last year. But, it seems that the more I stay here, the more I grow to like it. This has just dawned on me -had one of those 'AHA' moments. I've had some bad experiences here, but...people will be people, wherever we go, right? Yeah...I've done plenty looking at the negative aspect of things; there are times when everything around has seemed hopeless and pitch black. People anger me sometimes...with their indifference and cold way of being. For example, it is rare to find that one person who is bubbly, optimistic and will sit next to the quiet, lonely kid at the table. I admire that type of person...and seek to change for the better with every day I wake to. I dislike stagnant things -therefore, I have resolved to force myself to keep evolving. I try really hard...
Even if that means being the one to, for example, volunteer to speak in front of hundreds of people. This world needs more light, things seem to be getting worse, despite some progress here and there. People...just look miserable these days and it breaks my heart. I want to be a part of the light that will provide at least a little hope.
On a lighter note, perhaps...
hmmm, I forgot what I ate for lunch today. I ate some poorly-cooked pasta that someone brought in at my usual 12 noon to 1 Friday work study meeting...and I have carried an orange around all day that I never got to. Someone always brings something, and its usually dessert.
Off to sleep...
Arianna
Noticed in real time (5:00 pm until posted)
Talking to someone online. Waiting for a response. Waiting waiting waiting, getting nervous, putting the feeling aside (or trying), waiting waiting...
Impatience reigns tonight, as well as butterflies and snappy responses (though I'm trying to hold them in). Trying to be polite, trying to give everyone the opportunity to be creative and offer their opinion and ideas when really I'd rather just do something. Creativity is a struggle.
This entry is putting me in a bad mood and I don't want to be in one.
Why is honesty so hard sometimes?
As I'm waiting, my mom calls. Great timing.
A response, finally. Relief sets in and I start to feel the zipper on my sweater cutting into my rib cage. I move it out of the way, but the ghost pain remains. Why am I clenching my leg muscles? Good lord I'm a mess tonight.
Hungry. Tasting... empty mouth. Nothing. Or maybe not nothing, but not what I'd prefer to be tasting right now.
Pleasedon't pleasedon't...
Good!
My ribcage continues to hurt.
Clench.
Stop!
Mess.
Talking to someone online. Waiting for a response. Waiting waiting waiting, getting nervous, putting the feeling aside (or trying), waiting waiting...
Impatience reigns tonight, as well as butterflies and snappy responses (though I'm trying to hold them in). Trying to be polite, trying to give everyone the opportunity to be creative and offer their opinion and ideas when really I'd rather just do something. Creativity is a struggle.
This entry is putting me in a bad mood and I don't want to be in one.
Why is honesty so hard sometimes?
As I'm waiting, my mom calls. Great timing.
A response, finally. Relief sets in and I start to feel the zipper on my sweater cutting into my rib cage. I move it out of the way, but the ghost pain remains. Why am I clenching my leg muscles? Good lord I'm a mess tonight.
Hungry. Tasting... empty mouth. Nothing. Or maybe not nothing, but not what I'd prefer to be tasting right now.
Pleasedon't pleasedon't...
Good!
My ribcage continues to hurt.
Clench.
Stop!
Mess.
Cindi Kelly
Today I had lunch with a pregnant friend. During lunch a thought crossed my mind to be mindful. I looked around Nana's and saw a lot of people that I new and a whole bunch that I didn't. Then I looked at my friend and just saw her beauty. She seemed so comfortable in her big body yet there was an underlying nervousness that showed in her face. Who wouldn't be nervous if they were expecting a baby within 3 days. The smells in the restaurant were heavenly. I thought about how I can always smell someome if they have been to Nana's for lunch but it didn't smell like that. It was just Nana's without the human equation. The food was everything I expected. Fresh, warm, and tasty. Lots of different textures and colors. As I bit into my tofu I felt a stillness invade my body. It felt like health to my insides. Then I'm back. People talking, moving, and eating. The flow is sweet. Thank you Nana.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Alexis 'Crow' Crowley
One of those days at the studio that everyone here should know about. Nothing really worked too great. I tried though. Now I'm left desolate dejected discouraged deciding the air today was unlucky and tomorrow I'll be breathing super lucky master making air because it's the 5th instead of the 4th, a much better number for making things. Superstitions are good fun.
Tonight I can feel my cheek bones and they seem to be made of the same thick glass that holds the iced teas we buy from our vending machines and my skin feels like pool table felt. My mouth tastes sweet and tired like the last snow thats trying to melt outside. My lack of a good sniffer is making itself apparent (I think my nose is just for show). Coming at my ears around my music is the god damn hum of the building. I hate the way buildings are always humming. SHUT UP TREDENNICK!
Tonight I can feel my cheek bones and they seem to be made of the same thick glass that holds the iced teas we buy from our vending machines and my skin feels like pool table felt. My mouth tastes sweet and tired like the last snow thats trying to melt outside. My lack of a good sniffer is making itself apparent (I think my nose is just for show). Coming at my ears around my music is the god damn hum of the building. I hate the way buildings are always humming. SHUT UP TREDENNICK!
Elliott
Cleaning is an unpleasant chore that must be done regularly. Cleaning the hot shop requires a team in order to accomplish all that needs to be done. Two people from my class were cleaning along with a variety of upperclassmen. It was my job to rinse and refill water buckets and to torch tables. It is usually not my duty to sweep but some slacker did a half-ass job so I had to clean up after him. I had to empty the water buckets and refill them for use while working, I brought the two green, five gallon buckets over to the red hose to fill with hot water then replaced them at their normal spot at the benches. Using paper towels and a torch I heated the waxed glazed tables, resembling a glazed doughnut, in order to remove the wax. This took around five minutes and left me overheated. While trying to operate one of the torches one of the upperclassmen criticized the way I had the torch set, I couldn't fix it so he tried to and he figured out it was broken. He did not apologize and rudely left to continue cleaning the hot shop.
Arianna
(Did anyone see my blank post with my misspelled name from a few minutes ago? Classic...)
Noticed at 6:46pm
Smelling nothing: still sick. Because my nose is clear, I still find myself mouth-breathing quite a bit. With my mouth dumbly gaping, my raspy throat sounding like its gasping for air, I'm sure I'm a sight to behold. I actually feel pretty good.
Hearing the hot water heater gurgle from the kitchen, though not as loud as it once was two years ago. That's the only sound (other than my typing), and the silence starts to push on my ears. Now that I notice it, it worsens. I clear my throat to break the tension, which momentarily works, but after a 5-second delay, the pressure comes back.
Tasting AVI Food Services "Hearty Chili," which only consists of taco meat and kidney beans. Unidentifiable spices linger on my breath, which I hope to dispel with my soon-to-be-ready tea.
Feeling, my computer battery heat up as I continue to use it as it charges. Also feeling the little bars on the F and J key which tell me I'm home (in more ways then one). I stand up as my hot water heater makes the characteristic click that I know to mean it's almost done.
As I sink the loose tea holder into the hot water, I watch the water around it turn amber. I stir it a little and watch as ribbons of flavor follow my trail and melt together to a dark caramel. The tea is finally ready and it's now too dark to see the bottom of the mug.
Tastes like ... hot.
Noticed at 6:46pm
Smelling nothing: still sick. Because my nose is clear, I still find myself mouth-breathing quite a bit. With my mouth dumbly gaping, my raspy throat sounding like its gasping for air, I'm sure I'm a sight to behold. I actually feel pretty good.
Hearing the hot water heater gurgle from the kitchen, though not as loud as it once was two years ago. That's the only sound (other than my typing), and the silence starts to push on my ears. Now that I notice it, it worsens. I clear my throat to break the tension, which momentarily works, but after a 5-second delay, the pressure comes back.
Tasting AVI Food Services "Hearty Chili," which only consists of taco meat and kidney beans. Unidentifiable spices linger on my breath, which I hope to dispel with my soon-to-be-ready tea.
Feeling, my computer battery heat up as I continue to use it as it charges. Also feeling the little bars on the F and J key which tell me I'm home (in more ways then one). I stand up as my hot water heater makes the characteristic click that I know to mean it's almost done.
As I sink the loose tea holder into the hot water, I watch the water around it turn amber. I stir it a little and watch as ribbons of flavor follow my trail and melt together to a dark caramel. The tea is finally ready and it's now too dark to see the bottom of the mug.
Tastes like ... hot.
Becca Polinski
February 3, 4:31pm
Long days turning to long nights
Mouth dry expectations a wait
Brain all a buzz
But still just a fuzz
Sleep so tangible
Yet unimaginable
Where do my feet take me next
Hunger inside me
Waiting with rage
And a need to have now
Then again
When will I rest
So many days
Lay to grow longer
So many days
Some how we grow strong
Long days turning to long nights
Mouth dry expectations a wait
Brain all a buzz
But still just a fuzz
Sleep so tangible
Yet unimaginable
Where do my feet take me next
Hunger inside me
Waiting with rage
And a need to have now
Then again
When will I rest
So many days
Lay to grow longer
So many days
Some how we grow strong
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Elliott
I entered the studio and I could taste the dust while people swept, it fell through the air and tasted of dirt and looked like fog. I worked as if I were a machine purely reacting to the clay, nothing else crossed my mind until I snapped back to reality. Upon snapping back to reality I was once again met with a choking cloud of clay dust. I realized I had accomplished a large portion of my project and four hours had passed without my even realizing.
Victor D. Franco
*Two posts and a QUESTION*
Tuesday 02.02.10
Its all a blur now...but, I know I ate overly-dry tuna on soft rye bread with lettuce...
I also ate some Walmart cookies my Intro. to Art Therapy class teacher gave us. We also finger painted as an "art experience" exercise. It was great. I felt like a kid again :D
On a side note, I think I have overscheduled my life.
Wednesday (today, 02.03.10)
Powell Dinning Hall had some surprisingly delicious macaroni lasagna today...yummm; I took some from a brand new batch and took a large helping of the gooey mozarella cheese caressing it atop. I also had some cheese quesadillas with barbecue sauce and sour cream, some scallop potatoes, glazed carrots, and snow peas.
Lunch was thoroughly enjoyed.
My question to Professor Wayne (about his art piece 'Stratocumulus'):
How did you go about getting the observation basis/ visual source(s) for this piece?; What inspired/struck you to make it?
Tuesday 02.02.10
Its all a blur now...but, I know I ate overly-dry tuna on soft rye bread with lettuce...
I also ate some Walmart cookies my Intro. to Art Therapy class teacher gave us. We also finger painted as an "art experience" exercise. It was great. I felt like a kid again :D
On a side note, I think I have overscheduled my life.
Wednesday (today, 02.03.10)
Powell Dinning Hall had some surprisingly delicious macaroni lasagna today...yummm; I took some from a brand new batch and took a large helping of the gooey mozarella cheese caressing it atop. I also had some cheese quesadillas with barbecue sauce and sour cream, some scallop potatoes, glazed carrots, and snow peas.
Lunch was thoroughly enjoyed.
My question to Professor Wayne (about his art piece 'Stratocumulus'):
How did you go about getting the observation basis/ visual source(s) for this piece?; What inspired/struck you to make it?
Arianna
Noticed at 8:25pm
I get back to the apartment, shed my winter gear, heavy backpack, and crash on the university-grade sofa. Today was draining, and I'm ready for something to eat. I walk in the kitchen, eyes half-open in drowsiness, and walk straight forward. I get a sudden flash of genius: mango smoothie.
I grab the squishy, overripe mango from it's resting place, a knife from the drawer and a cutting board. The mango's green skin only takes up half of the fruit; the other side is a bright red, and in the middle is a strange mix of the two. I score it along the sides with the knife into quarters, and it's so juicy that some of the liquid runs down the knife, down my hand and onto the board. The scent is released as well, and I take a deep breath of it in.
Peeling the skin back proves to be more difficult than last time, and while the sound is good (a solid "rrrrriiiiipp"), the strips are short and choppy, leaving behind green triangles on the bright yellow flesh.
I pull out my food processor, cut off some chunks of fruit and estimate the amount to put in. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ... 6? Yeah 6. I pour in a splash, no two, of milk, snap everything into place (loudly), and hit chop. The mango is immediately shredded and the entire counter begins to shake as it gets finer and finer. I stop at an arbitrary time to view the results; the mush comes to a stop and I'm surprised by the little chunks stuck to the side of the bowl. I add a little milk, hit chop again (and once more just for good measure), and pour it in a glass. Yes, tastes good, but not quite as good as the pure mango. I add a little sugar, and drink up, seriously ignoring the tapoioca-like grit that gets left behind on my tongue and in my teeth.
Not so genius.
I get back to the apartment, shed my winter gear, heavy backpack, and crash on the university-grade sofa. Today was draining, and I'm ready for something to eat. I walk in the kitchen, eyes half-open in drowsiness, and walk straight forward. I get a sudden flash of genius: mango smoothie.
I grab the squishy, overripe mango from it's resting place, a knife from the drawer and a cutting board. The mango's green skin only takes up half of the fruit; the other side is a bright red, and in the middle is a strange mix of the two. I score it along the sides with the knife into quarters, and it's so juicy that some of the liquid runs down the knife, down my hand and onto the board. The scent is released as well, and I take a deep breath of it in.
Peeling the skin back proves to be more difficult than last time, and while the sound is good (a solid "rrrrriiiiipp"), the strips are short and choppy, leaving behind green triangles on the bright yellow flesh.
I pull out my food processor, cut off some chunks of fruit and estimate the amount to put in. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ... 6? Yeah 6. I pour in a splash, no two, of milk, snap everything into place (loudly), and hit chop. The mango is immediately shredded and the entire counter begins to shake as it gets finer and finer. I stop at an arbitrary time to view the results; the mush comes to a stop and I'm surprised by the little chunks stuck to the side of the bowl. I add a little milk, hit chop again (and once more just for good measure), and pour it in a glass. Yes, tastes good, but not quite as good as the pure mango. I add a little sugar, and drink up, seriously ignoring the tapoioca-like grit that gets left behind on my tongue and in my teeth.
Not so genius.
Alexis' question for Wayne
I think there is an interesting layering contrast of manmade and natural in this piece, you take the clay and force it to be this square- but it cracks in places as is its nature. Then you take an image of nature-cumulonimbus- and put your interpretation of that on the tile. Did you consider these contrasts in the making of the piece, or were they a sort of side effect? And what would you say about the amount of control you took in the making of it?
Becca Polinski
February 3, 9:53 am
A hawk flies over head
Let the games begin
An anxious panic
That hangs in the air
Will there be time
Can it all be done
So many things
For me to run
Particles to gather
Forming them away
Eyes all a blur
Running from page to page
A day may never end
But maybe all to soon
And so the games begin
A hawk flies over head
Let the games begin
An anxious panic
That hangs in the air
Will there be time
Can it all be done
So many things
For me to run
Particles to gather
Forming them away
Eyes all a blur
Running from page to page
A day may never end
But maybe all to soon
And so the games begin
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Becca Polinski
February 2, 11:45 pm
Wonderful moments
Wonderful thoughts
Mind is mindful
Sounds a float
Running through my head
Legs stretched long
Upwards and on
A taste for tomorrow
Might make this long
The way my thoughts linger
Like a taste in the air
So many things are to come
But for now as it seems
Life has no ends
Only bookmarks to mark
The passing of the time
The seconds and hours are mine
But for now my bed calls
Such a longing sweet smell
The comfort of my pillow
Justly nestled beneath my head
I can just taste it now
Oh such a savory sweet taste
Slowly and slowly my eye lids fall
Like the gravity upon
A leaf on the fall
Wonderful moments
Wonderful thoughts
Mind is mindful
Sounds a float
Running through my head
Legs stretched long
Upwards and on
A taste for tomorrow
Might make this long
The way my thoughts linger
Like a taste in the air
So many things are to come
But for now as it seems
Life has no ends
Only bookmarks to mark
The passing of the time
The seconds and hours are mine
But for now my bed calls
Such a longing sweet smell
The comfort of my pillow
Justly nestled beneath my head
I can just taste it now
Oh such a savory sweet taste
Slowly and slowly my eye lids fall
Like the gravity upon
A leaf on the fall
Nick's Question
Wayne, my question for you is the following:
How strongly does the composition draw from the inference of the object as a tile? and what affect do you believe the unaccompanied square form has on a viewer? Lastly, can a narrative be created between one of your other multi-tile works and the singularity of the piece in the gallery?
How strongly does the composition draw from the inference of the object as a tile? and what affect do you believe the unaccompanied square form has on a viewer? Lastly, can a narrative be created between one of your other multi-tile works and the singularity of the piece in the gallery?
Elliott
Today was like every other day. You wake up, take a shower, go to class, go to lunch, go to class again, go to dinner, go to class again, shower one more time and go to bed. All doomed to repeat again tomorrow. A monotonous repetition of eating and class, showering and sleeping. Day after day I hear the same sounds of "Hi Elliott" and I see the same faces passing by. Smell the usual stinky roommate (not Adam) and taste the usual greasy pizza. Feeling as though I'm in a constant repeat cycle.
Alexis
I finally got around to washing my dishes from the past two days this evening. I'm one class act. Anyway among those dishes was a bowl that my mom made a few years ago. She brought it home one day and I picked it up and said ' what? whoah... can I have this?' so she says to me 'sure', but she didn't really see the alure.
I think its great though, and sometimes when I unpack it or wash it or eat out of it I go into a kind of trance, accidental like. It starts out I'm just looking at it, and it turns out I'm looking at it. It's not a special shape (other than the fact that it holds the perfect amount of soup or cereal and fits nicely in my hands- I've decided it was subconciously made for me)but the glaze is fantastic. The colors range from this heavenly off white that ought to be the color of my wedding dress if that day should come, to this deeep midnight blue tinged with deeep red and purple that drives me crazy, I'd like to swim in it. In between there is this sort of seafoam green you generally see in bathroom decor (which I usually hate but in context of the bowl I like), so many different melty light blues, different shades of beige and light greyish purple (kind of like dry and wet sand at twilight- my most favorite time of day). All these colors run together in sort of surprising ways, and there are parts that I always get hung up on because I don't know how they happened and they look so great. They just make your eyes feel good. Theres also these little tiny crystals that pop up when you pay attention, and if theres one thing I love its little tiny crystals that pop up when you pay attention.
Every now and again I show it to someone who is into ceramics or painting and I say 'isn't this great' and they look at it, they don't even pick it up, they shrug their shoulders and say 'yeah, it's alright, I guess....'
Nobody sees the alure. I don't get it.
I think its great though, and sometimes when I unpack it or wash it or eat out of it I go into a kind of trance, accidental like. It starts out I'm just looking at it, and it turns out I'm looking at it. It's not a special shape (other than the fact that it holds the perfect amount of soup or cereal and fits nicely in my hands- I've decided it was subconciously made for me)but the glaze is fantastic. The colors range from this heavenly off white that ought to be the color of my wedding dress if that day should come, to this deeep midnight blue tinged with deeep red and purple that drives me crazy, I'd like to swim in it. In between there is this sort of seafoam green you generally see in bathroom decor (which I usually hate but in context of the bowl I like), so many different melty light blues, different shades of beige and light greyish purple (kind of like dry and wet sand at twilight- my most favorite time of day). All these colors run together in sort of surprising ways, and there are parts that I always get hung up on because I don't know how they happened and they look so great. They just make your eyes feel good. Theres also these little tiny crystals that pop up when you pay attention, and if theres one thing I love its little tiny crystals that pop up when you pay attention.
Every now and again I show it to someone who is into ceramics or painting and I say 'isn't this great' and they look at it, they don't even pick it up, they shrug their shoulders and say 'yeah, it's alright, I guess....'
Nobody sees the alure. I don't get it.
Something New By Adam Biggar
Powell dinning hall, amongst the buzzing laughter and talking were the massively long lines that wait to greet me every time I come in. While weaving in and out of the growing queues, I spotted something new in the dinning hall's arrangement of usually disgusting array of food. Italian sausage was standing out from the swirling vortex of grease and grime. I thought to myself, "How could one screw up sausage??" So along with my sausage, I took a fluffy pre-baked bun and fries. Along with that I grabbed a tall glass of chocolate milk, and fruit punch gatorade, which when I was pouring the sweetness filled the air. As I took my seat, before I knew it I had scarfed down the fries, I could hardly taste them. Then as I bit into my sausage the spices filled my mouth, I haven't tasted anything this good in the dinning hall in a long time. Washing that down was the gatorade, followed shortly by the chocolate milk. Which was awesome none the less.
Cindi Kelly and the Curious George lunch
My husband started weight watchers yesterday. What does that mean for me? I suppose that I will have to plan ahead and get lunch ready in the mornings now. For Rick, tuna sandwich equaling I believe 8 points. For me a banana with peanut butter. Points? Who cares. I look at my banana and try to name the brown color that it has become. Burnt umber with a little ochre mixed in. Not black yet. The brown doesn't bother me because I know the banana will be that much sweeter. I palpate gently for bruises and feel none. Yay. Pulling the peel away from the banana, I feel the slight stickiness of ripeness. It smells good. I like bananas. Retrieving my plastic knife from my dirty coat pocket I cut my banana lengthwise. Opening the container that I brought peanut butter in, the knife cuts through it and spreads the banana with PB. Then I squish the 2 halves back together. Now to enjoy my creation. It tastes sweet and nutty. My hands are needing a napkin. The combination of sticky and smooth makes my mouth happy. My body knows that this is a good thing. Protein, potassium, and sugar. Oh yeah.
Nick
sunday from 5:20-5:55
At midday the next day I'm swayed by a recollection. In the snow I see a reflection of the sunset. Similar shades played games on the horizon. I was moving a car, glad to keep my eyes on it. Lasted long than expected. Upon further inspection, I'd lost my mind to introspection. A familiar spectrum of color. I was smothered and infatuated; a lover decapitated. So I rolled down the window to wake up.
At midday the next day I'm swayed by a recollection. In the snow I see a reflection of the sunset. Similar shades played games on the horizon. I was moving a car, glad to keep my eyes on it. Lasted long than expected. Upon further inspection, I'd lost my mind to introspection. A familiar spectrum of color. I was smothered and infatuated; a lover decapitated. So I rolled down the window to wake up.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Katherine Lin
I ordered chicken tenders and french fries from Lil' Alf for lunch. Not particularly in love with fast food but I tend to get it when feel the need of happiness. I've been trying to eat lighter lately, guess that's why the chicken tenders tasted quite salty for me. Though I still got B.B.Q. sauce and mustard.
Ate half of it before class and left the box on Adam's table, while I was cleaning my table for the collection. Adam came in, so I moved it to one of the other handbuilding class's table. Someone came in, worked there and kept frowning at my lunch box. That distracted me a little during class. (later I put it on a cart next to my work station, it turned out that's Elliot's cart. I'm sorry...)
I got hungry around the time handbuilding class ended. Then realized that I didn't close the mustard's cap. I imagined how much clay dust entered it. But then I probably had eaten / inhaled a lot already.
So I dipped my french fries with mustard, while trying to avoid the clay dust that's very likely already in my stomach and lungs.
It was a little disturbing to think of that while eating but the chicken tenders and fries were still good.
Ate half of it before class and left the box on Adam's table, while I was cleaning my table for the collection. Adam came in, so I moved it to one of the other handbuilding class's table. Someone came in, worked there and kept frowning at my lunch box. That distracted me a little during class. (later I put it on a cart next to my work station, it turned out that's Elliot's cart. I'm sorry...)
I got hungry around the time handbuilding class ended. Then realized that I didn't close the mustard's cap. I imagined how much clay dust entered it. But then I probably had eaten / inhaled a lot already.
So I dipped my french fries with mustard, while trying to avoid the clay dust that's very likely already in my stomach and lungs.
It was a little disturbing to think of that while eating but the chicken tenders and fries were still good.
Victor D. Franco
02.01.10 (Monday's VERY late post)
Oops, didn't post for yesterday (Sunday)...oh well.
Around 11:30 am today, I walked into Powell and sat down with my Freshman friend. I hosted him last spring and he is currently in Foundation. He dislikes Michelle's laugh...UGHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! He likes to illustrate fictional worlds and characters. His name is Maurice. Maurice makes me laugh. He also makes others laugh, but lends down-to-earth heartfelt advice when others need it. Today, he counseled a depressed, heartsick girl. Hopefully she'll listen...he gave her good advice, amidst some jokes of course.
While that was going on...I went through two plates of food. The first consisted of boiled-looking chicken with sweet beans and asparagus. I ate the asparagus and threw the rest out. The chicken was gross, upon opening it...and I lost my apetite momentarily.
After that, I had a sandwhich with pepperoni, pesto, turkey, and italian dressing. I didn't finish that either.
Maybe I shouldn't have eaten breakfast about an hour before.
Oops, didn't post for yesterday (Sunday)...oh well.
Around 11:30 am today, I walked into Powell and sat down with my Freshman friend. I hosted him last spring and he is currently in Foundation. He dislikes Michelle's laugh...UGHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! He likes to illustrate fictional worlds and characters. His name is Maurice. Maurice makes me laugh. He also makes others laugh, but lends down-to-earth heartfelt advice when others need it. Today, he counseled a depressed, heartsick girl. Hopefully she'll listen...he gave her good advice, amidst some jokes of course.
While that was going on...I went through two plates of food. The first consisted of boiled-looking chicken with sweet beans and asparagus. I ate the asparagus and threw the rest out. The chicken was gross, upon opening it...and I lost my apetite momentarily.
After that, I had a sandwhich with pepperoni, pesto, turkey, and italian dressing. I didn't finish that either.
Maybe I shouldn't have eaten breakfast about an hour before.
Figure Drawing: Elliott
Rushing through dinner I was only thinking about making it to class on time. I entered the classroom, saw the horses all in a circle and decided to sit in my regular seat. Pulling out my newsprint pad from the flat file I was dreading the 30 second poses that were bound to be my fate. Charcoal in hand, switch, switch, switch, switch, switch, switch, switch, switch. . . never ending poses all morphing into one movement in my mind. Finally a break and on to longer poses after, the model gets in her pose and the class begins to draw. The model seemed to have been falling asleep her pose shifts as her head leans ever forward forcing me to adjust my drawing. The class ends and the model seems happy to be free of her job as a living statue.
Adam Biggar today's menu
Today Powell dinning hall, busy as it ever will be was mixed with the horrific of the most unimaginable noises. The lines were long like they always are. the food looked it had been marinating in butter for the last decade. While debating what I wanted to eat. I spotted the Pizza over in the corner. they had Hawaiian pizza, or imitation Hawaiian pizza. The chocolate milk while always good seemed a little grey, maybe it was my attitude towards life today. being a little stressed lately. the noise of the cafeteria became a low buzz as i felt like i was drifting in and out of chnscienceness. i was in a fuzz i didn't even realize i had eaten my food except for the the pineapple after taste in my mouth.
Jenna Bloodough
Powell is always packed on mondays around noon, the line was out the door all the way to the knight club so with that observation Im not sure why I thought it was going to be a decent lunch. Oh well. While in line I actually looked up for once..apparently Powell has plants on the beams just below the skylight windows? what? I asked my roommate if they were always there, her and two other people in line answered yes. Nice touch Powell, nice touch. The plants weren't saving lunch now, I had briefly been sidetracked, Powell was so busy obviously. I hate walking around searching for a table its a lot of pressure, you have to be stealth but over all its really awkward. when we managed to find a table it was loud, the boy at the table next to us had a voice that did not match his body. He was tall, slender, and trendy while it voice was deep and stoic. Interesting. The company I had to eat my lunch with I may need to reconsider. Its instant complaining...at least get a beverage first.
Arianna
Noticed at 5:05 pm.
Trying for a nap. I lay my head down on my pillow, pull the covers up to my chin and stare at the wall. My shadow is distorted from the light source - my roommate's light is pointed down at her book and offers a soft yellow glow onto my wall. I close my eyes, at first seeing nothing, then watching dim colored shapes pass in front of my eyes. They move too quickly to look at them, but just when I notice them, I watch them disappear.
Smelling my pillow, which still smells mildly of home. Smelling... sickness.
Tasting the remnants of tea and a sugar cookie that I had before my attempted nap. Sugar, butter and honey had melted together in my mouth so nice, and while it's not unpleasant now, but I'd rather have a blank palette for a nap.
Hearing my computer whirring, my breathing, and then sliding tires on the steep hill outside. A driver is quickly learning that he or she should not have stopped on the snowy hill. The tires whir, then stop. Then whir, then stop. The sounds stop and my attention is focused elsewhere.
Feeling, my side pushing into the mattress pad, my head's weight pushing on the pillow. After a minute or two, I realize I can't feel my hands, feet. The eraser of concentration has gotten rid of them, and now it's slowly moving up my legs and arms, avoiding the places that have pressure on them.
I wait for 20 minutes for sleep to take me, but I guess not today.
Trying for a nap. I lay my head down on my pillow, pull the covers up to my chin and stare at the wall. My shadow is distorted from the light source - my roommate's light is pointed down at her book and offers a soft yellow glow onto my wall. I close my eyes, at first seeing nothing, then watching dim colored shapes pass in front of my eyes. They move too quickly to look at them, but just when I notice them, I watch them disappear.
Smelling my pillow, which still smells mildly of home. Smelling... sickness.
Tasting the remnants of tea and a sugar cookie that I had before my attempted nap. Sugar, butter and honey had melted together in my mouth so nice, and while it's not unpleasant now, but I'd rather have a blank palette for a nap.
Hearing my computer whirring, my breathing, and then sliding tires on the steep hill outside. A driver is quickly learning that he or she should not have stopped on the snowy hill. The tires whir, then stop. Then whir, then stop. The sounds stop and my attention is focused elsewhere.
Feeling, my side pushing into the mattress pad, my head's weight pushing on the pillow. After a minute or two, I realize I can't feel my hands, feet. The eraser of concentration has gotten rid of them, and now it's slowly moving up my legs and arms, avoiding the places that have pressure on them.
I wait for 20 minutes for sleep to take me, but I guess not today.
Becca Polinski
February 1, 11:03 am
A beautiful morning
To follow a beautiful weekend
Begining early
But just rightly so
The taste of memories
The taste of mornings
Smells of people
Bustling about
Sounds that match my own
Vissions that do not follow
With the bustle of the hustle
Does anybody ever stop moving?
A beautiful morning
To follow a beautiful weekend
Begining early
But just rightly so
The taste of memories
The taste of mornings
Smells of people
Bustling about
Sounds that match my own
Vissions that do not follow
With the bustle of the hustle
Does anybody ever stop moving?
Dave Mykins
Wednesday, January 27th
I missed lunch today because wednesday is my day off so I slept in. I woke up around 12:30, still groggy even though I had a large amount of sleep last night. My vision was blurry as it usually is until I'm fully awake. It was bright in the room because my roommate had left the blinds open, along with the window. this made it really cold in the room, which i don't really mind because i can't sleep without a heavy comforter, and i can't sleep comfortably with a heavy comforter unless it's cold in the room. I decided to brush my teeth because i had some really awful morning breath. the room was pretty silent, since it seemed like I was the only person in the suite. all i could really hear was the um of my fan and various noises coming from outside.
Thursday, January 28th
At lunch today, nothing really looked good so I settled on pizza like I normally do in situations like this. the pizza was pretty decent today. there wasn't too much sauce, and it was spread evenly. I later made myself a really plain salad (since I generally don't like dressings or any other sauce-like substances... with a few exceptions). Looking around me, I noticed that some of the tables were in slightly different places than they were last time i was there. It seems like they move them around from day to day, which makes me wonder what they do up there after closing time. the dining hall smells the way it usually does, just like various foods depending on which station you're nearest to. at one point one of my friends was eating this really gross smelling soup. It's always to warm at ade, and for some reason I always feel like I can't breath as well while I'm there.
Friday, January 29th
I was sitting in the living room of my suite, waiting to go to class today when i noticed an area of a painting I did last semester, that i never noticed before. I started to think about how weird it was that I could miss something in something that was created by me. especially something that I spent so much time on. since it's nearly class-time, I can hear the neighbors' doors opening and closing, and people walking up and down the stairs. the room smells kind of like orange peels mixed with a vanilla-like air freshener. it's kind of a gross combination. well, not really gross but unpleasant at least. there's no real taste in my mouth, just a hint of the orange i ate a few minutes ago.
Saturday, January 30th
I woke up around noon today to the sound of my alarm clock. After last night I wasn't sure if I was up to going to brunch, but ultimately ended up going. there was no bacon, and the sausage they had out instead didn't look any good, so I just ate homefries and a bagel. the first batch of homefries I had was good, but the second time they weren't cooked long enough. the potatoes were still hard and the peppers still crunchy. i'm not sure if they even bothered to mix onions in there at all. I saw one of my friends eating a sandwich with carved turkey. excited by the fact that they had carved turkey, I immediately got up and made myself a similar sandwich(which was pretty good).
Sunday, January 31st
Arriving at the dining hall, the first thing I noticed was that it smelled like bacon. it was exciting because they didn't have any yesterday. When I got up there, I got myself some bacon and hashbrowns and drowned them in syrup as usual. after eating such an acidic breakfast i got a bit of a stomach ache, but some Tums took care of that.
I missed lunch today because wednesday is my day off so I slept in. I woke up around 12:30, still groggy even though I had a large amount of sleep last night. My vision was blurry as it usually is until I'm fully awake. It was bright in the room because my roommate had left the blinds open, along with the window. this made it really cold in the room, which i don't really mind because i can't sleep without a heavy comforter, and i can't sleep comfortably with a heavy comforter unless it's cold in the room. I decided to brush my teeth because i had some really awful morning breath. the room was pretty silent, since it seemed like I was the only person in the suite. all i could really hear was the um of my fan and various noises coming from outside.
Thursday, January 28th
At lunch today, nothing really looked good so I settled on pizza like I normally do in situations like this. the pizza was pretty decent today. there wasn't too much sauce, and it was spread evenly. I later made myself a really plain salad (since I generally don't like dressings or any other sauce-like substances... with a few exceptions). Looking around me, I noticed that some of the tables were in slightly different places than they were last time i was there. It seems like they move them around from day to day, which makes me wonder what they do up there after closing time. the dining hall smells the way it usually does, just like various foods depending on which station you're nearest to. at one point one of my friends was eating this really gross smelling soup. It's always to warm at ade, and for some reason I always feel like I can't breath as well while I'm there.
Friday, January 29th
I was sitting in the living room of my suite, waiting to go to class today when i noticed an area of a painting I did last semester, that i never noticed before. I started to think about how weird it was that I could miss something in something that was created by me. especially something that I spent so much time on. since it's nearly class-time, I can hear the neighbors' doors opening and closing, and people walking up and down the stairs. the room smells kind of like orange peels mixed with a vanilla-like air freshener. it's kind of a gross combination. well, not really gross but unpleasant at least. there's no real taste in my mouth, just a hint of the orange i ate a few minutes ago.
Saturday, January 30th
I woke up around noon today to the sound of my alarm clock. After last night I wasn't sure if I was up to going to brunch, but ultimately ended up going. there was no bacon, and the sausage they had out instead didn't look any good, so I just ate homefries and a bagel. the first batch of homefries I had was good, but the second time they weren't cooked long enough. the potatoes were still hard and the peppers still crunchy. i'm not sure if they even bothered to mix onions in there at all. I saw one of my friends eating a sandwich with carved turkey. excited by the fact that they had carved turkey, I immediately got up and made myself a similar sandwich(which was pretty good).
Sunday, January 31st
Arriving at the dining hall, the first thing I noticed was that it smelled like bacon. it was exciting because they didn't have any yesterday. When I got up there, I got myself some bacon and hashbrowns and drowned them in syrup as usual. after eating such an acidic breakfast i got a bit of a stomach ache, but some Tums took care of that.
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