meditation and the continuation of the spindle’s work series

I’m back in that place I was in when I first moved to Wisconsin where I’m more-than-a-bit angry with recent past events, spend a great deal of my time reading–which isn’t a bad thing, but I always end up re-reading the same fanfics over and over (specifically A Farm in Iowa, Chocolatey Goodness, and Domestic Piranhas), which is also Not A Bad Thing–and spending the rest of my time rearranging/cleaning/organizing my environment to try and sort out my own head-space.

And to fill in the holes that were made by what’s made me angry.

…I suppose it’s better than when I was really angry while I was still employed and was obsessively watching Sherlock fanvids.  And not the happy, fun ones; the ones that involved the end of Series 2. <–This is me trying to be not-spoilery.

It really is quite the THING.

So, anyway, aside from the dramatic whining (’cause I can totally pull of a turbo-sulk when I want to), I’ve been working more on the spindle’s work, Zellandine’s denouement series.

spindle’s work, Zellandine’s denouement: the Mirror
2012

the Mirror is, again, a Snow White piece.  For some reason, the Queen was really in my head for this part of the series. *shrugs* I’ve always been interested in the way that the Mirror is personified (and in Snow White and the Huntsman, which I haven’t seen yet, is anthropomorphized).  In my favorite version of Snow White with Diana Rig as the Queen, the Mirror actually has three faces and is kinda a dick, yet I like the idea of the Mirror as something almost Dorian Grey in its manifestation:  it appears as corrupted as its Queen.

Also, there’s some influence going on with infected/corrupted dungeons in .hack and Diablo III.

spindle’s work, Zellandine’s denouement: the Queen’s spell-strings
2012

the Queen’s spell-strings plays with the portrayals of the Queen from Snow White (any version) as a witch and how, in some types of witchcraft, spellwork can be integrated into knotted strings.  In this instance, the darkness that the Queen wants to bring to Snow White situated amongst the light Snow White believes she is living in.  There are bits and pieces integrated into the “spell-strings” that reference particular parts of the fairytale:  the raven that is one of the sacred birds that watches over Snow White while she is not-dead, raw metals that reference Snow White’s protectors, Snow White’s name to make the spell reference her specifically, and an Asian-themed bit of cinnabar that references when the Queen tries to kill Snow White with a poisoned comb.

spindle’s work, Zellandine’s denouement: Jorinda
2012

Jorinda was turned into a bird.  She was caged and sung to be released.  Joringle, who is always elsewhere, has forgotten about her again–or, at least, he had forgotten about her in the one I remember from when I was small; forgot about Jorinda until she sang to him–in an Snow Queen-esque moment of mental manipulation.

Jorinda and Joringle always seemed like cardboard hero and heroine; hence, Jorinda’s depiction as a bird made of abaca and embroidery–’cause, can a fairytale get more “subjugation of women” than caging the female character in a bird-cage–without the William Burroughs‘ references.

spindle’s work, Zellandine’s denouement: cthulloid treasure
2012

cthulloid treasure is a riff on The Little Mermaid but with a distinctly Lovecraftian bent cross-bred with folklore about ningyo (i.e., Japanese mermaids).  Yet, as often happens with me and my inspiration, I am draw to the portrayal of ningyo from popular culture sources:  namely, The Mermaid Saga, a Japanese anime and manga series.  In The Mermaid Saga, eating mermaid flesh can provide longevity, or it can turn the person that consumes it into a monster.

Monster-hood is more common than immortality.

Combine this idea with a kind of Lovecraftian (or, in reality, Syrian) Mistress of the Deep (She Who Swims in Darkness or some such thing), and you have the inspiration for cthulloid treasure:  something mysterious, grotesque, and from another world of understanding with spray paint golden scales that shine like the sun.

spindle’s work, Zellandine’s denouement: sub-text
2012

Really, what does it look like.

Think about it.

Embrace your inner-12-year-old boy.

I’ll wait.

*insert the Jeopardy theme song here*

A vagina dentata but woven on a circle loom.  Really, given what is always sub-textually present in fairytales and what modern fairytale writers have done with that sub-text, it was bound to happen in this series.

I swear I wasn’t really trying to be snotty with that last description, but it really is what it looks like and that’s how it ended up as part of this series and not something else.

What can I say?  I’m a sick, twisted deviant on occasion.

Oh, while I’m thinking about it, there’s an opening at the ARTgarage for Bonnie de Arteaga‘s front gallery exhibit; it’s Friday from 5-8.

Courage.

Attacked by mechanical ladybugs. At least, it’s better than being rejected by a toaster.

I’m mixing my metaphors again.  Y’all know how that goes.

I’ve been reading Bella Tuscany again; I actually finished it a couple of days ago.  I don’t know why I needed to read this again, but in retrospect, it probably has to do with the way that Frances Mayes talks about the way art is alive and part of the everyday in Italy:  all the local chapels have magnificent icons of Mary and works by Renaissance Masters.

It got me in the mood to create the PowerPoint for Gnome’s Humanities classes and talk about how the definition of art has changed in such drastic ways and how art has inundated the everyday because there are artists that want their art to be part of everyday experience (like the artist consortium poketo) and artists who create monumental works for the everyday like Dr. Evermor (artists who are referred to as “vernacular artists”).  This everyday-ness has become so prevelant that Aestheticians have begun talking about “everyday aesthetics”:  the aesthetics of the hotel, the football game, the places and spaces that we live in every day of our lives.

I have these books that I always return to, that speak certain things to me, that change each time that I read them because, each time I read them, I’m a different person.  They’re battered and torn not because of abuse but because they have been loved shabby like a favorite woobie blanket or a ridiculously ugly acid-green sweater that was bestowed when a dear friend grew too talk for it and given with love because she knew that I would never grow too tall for it and would always love that it was ridiculously ugly ’cause that’s the way I am.

It explains why I have so very many books:  I need them close and physical and accessible.  It’s a physical pain when I desperately need to read something that’s been put away into storage because we don’t have enough book shelves yet or because the dear book-friend I long for has been buried behind so many other books that it can’t be found.

A month or two ago, I had a deep longing to read the first five-ish chapters of Owlsight by Mercedes Lackey because of Keisha.  There’s something about when she abruptly uproots her life with her family to become the town Healer that seemed like the exact thing to celebrate my first year anniversary in Wisconsin, and when Keisha learns to ground-and-shield for the first time, how she talks about never having dreamed of flying but always having dreamed of being an oak tree.  I know how she feels.

I’ve never once dreamed of flying:  I dream of falling, of zombie apocalypses, of far-flung battles, and of a violinist I might have been once-upon-a-time in another life.

But not flying.

Okay, on my Kindle counts as accessible too.  I kinda carry my Kindle with me everywhere because I keep my favorite fanfics on it, ever at the ready:  like A Farm in Iowa.  I think I’ve read this fic (which is like 300-400+ pages long) 5 or 6 times since I moved to Wisconsin—because it always reminds me about finding Home in unlikely places and in unlikely people.

Wisconsin was like that for me.  Wisconsin is my blue-painted bedroom to lay my head down in when I’m cranky and hate the world or my farm after a long life of cranky and being misunderstood.

I like it here, and I like the people that I’ve met here.

So, yeah.  Welcome to the random thinking about books.  There’s thinking coming about The Parasol Protectorate also, but right now, I think that *waves hand* all of the above book-thinking is probably enough.

And, a bit revealing.

*feels exposed*

In a completely unrelated (at least, obviously related) event, I’ve been asked to join a group show at the end of April:  Circus Nerve.

It’s very exciting.  I had met the curator at a show at IQ’s (before it closed), so I know her a little (her name’s Natalie).  Evidently, she had been at the ARTgarage and saw my studio and work and asked me to join the show.

IT’S VERY EXCITING, ISN’T IT?!?

There will be more about this very exciting event as it unfolds.

\o/

Courage and cake!

my middle name is procrastination–or was it OCD-tendencies?

So, due to interweb outages were I live, I wasn’t able to really do the post on Tuesday.  Instead, I posted from my cell with promises, promises, promises.

 

Here were those promises:  the Iola car show (with pictures), Heather Peterson’s Peterman’s bags, teaching at the Art Garage (I know, wtf), and a couple of questions about how artists achieve success.

 

So, the Iola Car Show.  What does the Iola Car Show have to do with art exactly?  Aside from hosting a car-themed art show, there’s also the matter that cars, in and of themselves, are art.  They are designed for aesthetics as well as function (which is something that I’m always interested in–where form and function meet).  They are a part of our visual culture (have been for quite a long time) and show up from decorations to video games to the drive-way.  They become iconic in visual culture such as the Impala in Supernatural and the Bluesmobile in The Blues Brothers.  Some cars are  so iconic that people even reproduce them for events like the Iola Car Show.

 

blues brothers

The Bluesmobile.  Just hanging, ya know?

Other pretties that I saw.  Not all of them, mind cause that would be insane.

herbie the love bug

Herbie the Love Bug!  It actually spit water.

interior

Just pretty.

row of cars

This is what I meant about showing all the cars would be insane.  This is a very, very small part of the show.

the car that beats up all the other cars

I <3 this car.  It’s the car that beats up all other cars.

steampunk buick

This car is specifically for the lovely Miss ‘Lain.  It’s so steampunk–if we dumped a steam engine in it or somethings.

sheppard truck farm in iowa

In my  head, this is John Sheppard’s truck in sheafrotherdon‘s A Farm in Iowa series.

funnel cakes and cheese curds

Oh, Wisconsin!  What a magical wonderland where you can get funnel cakes and fried cheese curds within 50 feet of each other!

choose cheese

I want this sign.

demand butter

I also want this sign.

So, this was my Saturday at the Iola Car Show.  It was huge and too warm and kinda awesome.

Second on my crazy, crazy list of promises for this post is the wonderful work of Heather Peterman.  She makes these fantastic bags that originate with paintings that she scans and uploads onto Spoonflower and then orders fabric in order to make bags and pillows and other fabric-y awesomeness.  She sells them at like 7 different places in Green Bay including the Art Garage and at the Wednesday Farmers Market on Broadway.

bird bag

 

This is, currently, my favorite bag.  The image, unfortunately, is completely craptastic because it was one of those kinda of days.  The thing has like 8 different pockets!

 

seen about

When I was at the grocer, I saw this lady that had a Heather Peterman bag too!  We are everywhere!

I foresee more of these bags and things in my future.

And, I think I might keep the “teaching at the Art Garage (I know, wtf), and a couple of questions about how artists achieve success” until next week because this post is getting waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay out of hand.

Courage.