t h e c o n c e p t i o n o f [ i r o n y + a r t ]

i haven’t blogged in several months, and this is why.

originally this was a travel blog,

but then I stopped traveling.

at that point my entries quickly became stupid and random and, well—pointless.

eventually, i stopped blogging all together with the excuses that ‘my life became more dull’ and that ‘i ran out of ideas'.

recently, however, i’ve been experiencing a strange inspiration to start an art blog . . .

with only the slightest hindrance that—

i’m not an artist, and i don’t do art.

nevertheless, i did sit down this evening and it occurred to me:

lately, i've been noticing that there often arrives a work of art from the most peculiar circumstances.

i often find myself in unfortunate mishaps, which make for a life far from 'boring' with plenty of 'ideas'.

therefore, the arrival of my new strange journey—
i r o n y a n d a r t .

learning on my off-time

So I’ve been shadowing my artist friend, not purposely, but specific circumstances [including 2am, lost keys, and freezing cold] came in to play before she took me in. Here is what I’ve learned in the hours of time apportioned for 'sleeping' (2:30am to 6am) …

(a) there are mornings were thick, black coffee is necessary. Coffee.

the kind that can only be made by my friend, here, with extreme attention to detail--such as 1) heat water carefully, pouring into the press before it begins to boil ("other wise it will burn the coffee"). 2) Add course grinds, 3) do not stir, 4) let stand for 5 min.s (not 4 min.s; thank you Starbucks). Next, 5) must be served in your roommate's mug that you covet the most and 6) nothing else. apart from finding out the secret to amazing coffee i also found out...

(b) dilapidated, old type writers are innovative.

(c) AND last but not least, just as i awoke, in the last few min.s—the min.s between waking and sleeping—I encountered a spread on Art & Fear precariously taped to the wall. Somehow, through the haze of my mind i still comprehended that something about embracing fear and uncertainty makes one an artist.

the article said something like: the quality in a human that pushes the boundaries of one’s own individual comfort zone is the quality of a proven artist. There is fear and uncertainty in trying the unknown, and each person will face his/her own boundary at some point. At that point it is impossible to ride in or be revealed in someone else’s triumph—your own point of fear and uncertainty must be discovered and explored.

consider this: the "success" of your work is directly related to the proportion of fear (personal misgivings, uncomfortably, vulnerability, etc...) that you over come to arrive at the finished product. [you know what i mean. ex. sometimes ideas feel like art--you know; think back to a moment where you had an idea, but didn't even want to speak it out. that's where the challenge is.]

Somewhere along the way I also read something about Van Gogh, but that was the more sleeping than waking moment, I suppose.

Anyway, i recognized that i do fear a lot, in regard to pushing and exposing my own 'art'.

therefore, the challenge of an artist: engage that point of fear, and______________.

the possibilities are endless.

for the wedding

---------------



so my sister is getting married. she and her fiance are thinking of silk screening their wedding invites, so i've begun designing options for them. this is my favorite one -

[if they don't use it, i figure i could sell it on ebay as a 'special edition cold war kids collectors item' or something like that.]

v-day or d-day?

Feb. 14 @ 11:17 p.m.

Valentine’s day. Last year my friend, Nick, told me his rendition of how Valentine’s originated. Apparently, getting married was outlawed where ever it is that St. Valentine lived. Nick explained the details in full detail and finished saying, “… but St. Valentine, he just kept marryin’ people anyway—yep, that’s how it all started.” Tragic as this may seem, my best friend and I starred at each other somewhat puzzled before turning back to Nick and blurting out, “How many wives did he have?” Okay, that may have seemed like a lame attempt to personalize a lame Valentine’s joke, but it really happened! In fact, this all took place in the Cafe right at those round tables, you know, the ones across from the tater-tots. Anyway, Valentine’s Day has always been a favorite for me in terms of observation. I have a strange appreciation for things that arouse unnecessary controversy, and Valentine’s is great for that. For example, I once knew a girl who observed ‘singles awareness day’ with smudged black eyeliner and sack cloth and ashes. Yet at the other end of the specturm, my roommate celebrates by purchasing chocolate for everyone imaginable, and by hosing our living room down in—what looks like—Pepto Bismal. All this to say: No matter what St. Valentine’s means for you this year it is possible to come away from it with a certain level of enjoyment. I mean, the opportunity to observe such a tremendous paradox does not arise every day.

{congrats to kristina and nate!}

11:45 p.m.

night ramble

Feb. 13 @ 11:48 p.m.
So three weeks into my spring semester and - - -
Well, I was hoping that as I began the sentence above an amazing story would naturally unfold upon my keyboard or at the very least that one might blossom in my mind. As you may have guessed by now, no such thing happened. Let’s try it again … So three weeks into my spring semester and I’ve managed to learn an important myth buster about writing: Although creative, writing, is not always this warm emotive thing … your work should demonstrate your creativity and your craftsmanship. The thing about craftsmanship is that it takes discipline, time, application, and all in all – hard work. So here I am forcing myself to write something on this screen whether I have any inspiration or not. Obviously, the ideal situation would be a balance of the more emotive inspiration with long acquired skill. Ah well, along the way to this great hybrid-writing there must surely be a step involving meaningless rambling, masquerading as practice and discipline. Oh, please say there is!

Good night -

12:05 p.m.

reflections on my first week of school: Friday to Friday (ii)

Feb. 12 @ 11:02 p.m.
… Needless to say I didn’t have time to fuel up on my way to school. Wednesday rolled around, which - in the minds of Rosecrans apartments residents - immediately means: “NO PARKING in this tract 6 a.m. to 10 a.m on Wednesday.” I had to move my car. It only made it one block. Luckily, well blessedly I suppose, I was able to park my car out of ticketing range. However, I now had to deal with the terrible consequences of having run out of gasoline, most notably: not being able to drive! I knew I could put off going anywhere out of walking distance until Friday morning when I needed to be in Santa Ynez for my friend’s wedding. Thursday night rolled around and I began to consider the options I had for rectifying this predicament in the light of my assets, which sadly did not include a portable gas can. Neither of my roommates had one either. The Lord must have known I was handling about as much as I could tolerate because he sent a somewhat obscure boy to hear me gripping about it. Luke had a gas can in his room. I didn’t even bother asking why he practiced keeping it in his room of all places. I was just really excited to have my future looking that much brighter. Luke thanks for being in the right place at the right time!
11:20 p.m.

reflections on my first week of school: Friday to Friday

11:09pm
I was racing the clock last Friday as I drove to school. Both of my roommates were going away from campus all weekend. Thus, reaching housing to get my key before they closed at 4:30p.m. was crucial to my future - lest I be locked out of our apartment. Due to the circumstances that are my life I arrived at Student Services at 4:27p.m. I didn't have time to think about feeling insecure so I just strolled up to the counter and said with a brimming but questioning look on my face, "hi, i am here to pick up my key?" It was a question because it implied is this the right place to pick up my key and if so how do I go about getting it. It occurred to me very quickly that i was not a specimen to be expected, for the girl at the counter raised one eye brow and mumbled to herself, " hum, Friday," looked down at her watch and sighed,"4:27." I just continued to stand there smiling because it seemed that she may begin moving faster if i didn't move at all. I am not really sure why this idea occurred to me. Subconsciously, it had something to do with me not wishing to usurp even one pulse of energy from the room. She was moving so slowly. I had to throw all of my belongings into the apartment and be back on campus by 5p.m.

Needless to say i didn't have time to fuel up on the way to school...
{To be continued}
11:31pm