Gallery Nite Green Bay Debrief

So, a pretty decent turn out at the ARTgarage despite the Wisconsin weather being its typical can’t-decide-if-it’s-gonna-snow-or-rain-or-be-ridiculously-bright-and-cherry self.  (FYI:  It’s snow right now.  *SIGH*  What-EVER.)

So, if y’all have been following tentacle-made studios at home via FacebookTwitter/Vine (I’m triesquid on Vine too.), or Tumblr*, you’ll already be fairly versed in all of this, but meh, feel free to skip ahead to the videos if  ya’d like.

*I always feel like I should explain about my Tumblr.  It started out as a on-the-go, more-free-wheeling art blog and has quickly become a weird hybridization of my studio practice, activism, art morgue, fic and poetry (some written by me and some not), and fandom artifacts (which are important because my art practice is informed by Visual Culture/Popular Culture and fandom iterations of VC/PC have become a part of that for me with fandom’s critical thinking and free-range creativity), so my Tumblr is a bit wild and wacky.

So, stuff sold, which is kinda a nice change of pace, and I’m starting to thing about revisiting the idea of the plushie unnamed friends since I had a bunch of kids kinda go mental over the fungoid owlets.

unnamed friends: fungoid owlet (18/100)
2012
Katrina (‘Trie) Blasingame

I dunno.  I think the other unnamed friends could translate nicely to something Ugly Doll-esque.

unnamed friends: Stymie
2011
Katrina (‘Trie) Blasingame

And, that’s kinda beside the point.  Gallery Nite debrief–GO!

Miss Zoe from Knits by Zoe and ‘Lain (We went to art school together.) came out and spun with me.  It was nice.  I don’t get to spend enough time with either one of them since they live in Green Bay, and I’m way-the-way out in BFE-Shawano.

Instagram photo taken by whee71 (aka Gnome)

This was my display filled with all sorts of fun things, which the break down was basically–

14 art batts, 10 drop spindles, 5 ball-winders, and 4 knitty-knotties (which I misspelled on the tags because I can never decide if “knotty” has one t or two–what can ya do?).

Additionally, there was some handmade jewelry, fungoid owlets, button packs, and plot bunnies.

Here’s a better idea of what the display looked like.  That’s ‘Lain in the back–fighting with her wheel.

This is the wonderful and talented Miss Zoe of Knits by Zoe spinning away on a Hello Purl art batt in order to make her dreads that she sells at The Glass Monkey in Green Bay.

And, speaking of Hello Purl (I could explain the tangent, but I don’t wanna!  Mwhahahahahahahaha!), there’s evidently a new Arts Events website being developed called something like “Whoa New”.  I didn’t quite catch their name, but I did have a nice chat with the Writer and Photographer (who we’re having a One-Degree of Separation thing).  So, that’s exciting and totally something that the area needs, like whoa.

Also, my very own Gnome is going to be the musical entertainment at the June Gallery Nite, so yeah, y’all should come out and listen to him play.

Courage.

Random post of randomness.

I know I’ve been being, like, the most boring, non-art-posting art blogger/artist in the history of forever.

Though, for those of you that follow the Tumblr or the Facebook page, you have to admit that there has been some choice art and some really good Avengers fic.

Just wait for it.  I’ll be sharing Sherlock fanvids with y’all yet.

But, yeah, with the lack of direct, specific art-related posts over here in WordPress Land.

I want to show y’all a better picture of my spinning wheel, but I don’t have any pictures of Vincent yet.  I have, if y’all are into that sort of thing, set up an Instagram (I’m triesquid like I am just about everywhere) because I sucked it up and got an iPad for myself.

I kinda <3 him.  His name is Hermes.

I don’t know why.  Don’t ask me.

…and, yes, I do name pretty much everything.  I’m a weirdo that way.

*whistles*

I did find this really interesting article in The Chronicle of Higher Education this last week (or was it last week?  I don’t remember.  I just know that I have been saving for y’all.  ‘Cause I <3 y’all so much!):  “Poets in the Print Shop.”

It’s quite nice.

On another side note, ’cause I’m full of them today, I’ve been reading Sherman Alexie’s novel The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian.  It’s fantastic.

*flails around for an image so that this won’t be another image-less post*

Did I mention that I just ordered a bunch of stuff from Nut and Bee, who is going out of business and I’m SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD about it.

…does anyone think that using the llama stamp for the “you’ve been to The CRANE Center” stamp would be too–backhanded?  Y’all know what it’s like to be a panic-ridden student (quite a few know what it’s like to deal with panic-ridden students):  is the llama stamp too obviously “drama llama?”

Also, Instagram.  See, I wasn’t lying about the Instagram.

*is totally not a hipster*

*really*

*tra lala la la*

Okay, I’m done spazing for now.

Courage and drama llamas.

Marathon for Literature at the ARTgarage

So, today’s gonna kinda be a drive-by advert for the Marathon for Literature being held at the ARTgarage this upcoming Friday and Saturday (9/16 @ 6 pm-9/17 @6 pm).

 

I might throw in a little Kurt Halsey if y’all are good.

 

Here’s the advert:

 

15 minutes. A book. You.

 

That’s all it takes for you to help support the ARTgarage and Literacy Green Bay.

 

Your support (and the support of anyone that is willing to sponsor you) will go to fund Arts programing at the ARTgarage and fund Literacy Green Bay as well as to help purchase new books for several area shelters.

 

September 16th and 17th already full up? Support the Marathon for Literature by sponsoring a reader (or many readers!).

 

You can even donate food for all those starving readers (and their hungry audience–can’t have them eating the readers, ya know)!  Honestly, I think I’ve managed to hunt down enough food to kill a water buffalo.

 

If you’re interested in reading or donating, call the ARTgarage at 920.448.6800; otherwise, we’ll see y’all at the Marathon!

 

Come to read; stay to listen!

 

We are still short several readers, so–come on!–come and play with us.  Books, reading, coffee–all late into the night and into the next day.  It’ll be fantastic!

 

If you’re an artist and you wanna do one of those “create art to the music reading” things, that can totally be arranged.  Just call the ARTgarage or email me.

 

We’ll hook.  You.  UP!  <–I’m a little excited about all of this if y’all couldn’t tell.

 

Come to the Marathon.  We have cookies.

 

Okay, since you were all so good–Except for you, ‘Lain.  I see what you’re doing over there.–Kurt Halsey.

 

He’s kinda a quintessential hipster artist, but in a non-sucky, non-pretentious  way.

 

I really like him, and I learned about him from my friend Genna (of deconstructing pierrot fame).  For some reason, Halsey and Bright Eyes are inextricably linked in my head because of her.

 

I enjoy the almost cartoon-ish whimsey of his images as well as the stories-within-stories that he creates and the way that post-it note kinda conversations happen sometimes.  <–I think part of that is because I have a tendency to sketch my unnamed friends on post-it notes before they become large-scale drawings or sculptures. *should totally start scanning those images also*

 

I also enjoy that his people/creatures are gestural and (almost) ephemeral–like they are nascent beings or they are coming into being.

 

He also totally has a fandom.  How many artists can say that?

 

 

…I kinda want my own fandom.  *looooooooooooooooooooooooongs for it like a bungalow*

 

 

 

shameless plugging. it’s all the rage.

So, as is usual, I’m running around completely late because there’s a zillion and five things that need to get done before I sit before my computer and type furiously for y’all.

 

I had a Marathon for Literature meeting this morning (of which y’all will be hearing more about in the coming weeks). <–See how I did that?  Shameless, shamelss squid.

 

*waves tentacles* Come to the Marathon.  Donate to the Marathon.  Sponsor a reader for the Marathon.  You know you want too.  All the cool kids are doing it.

 

*is ashamed at shameless plugging*  But it’s so fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!

 

*ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuns away*

 

Sorry ’bout that.  That’s the sleep dep speaking.

 

Really.

 

*whistles*

 

When I left y’all on Sunday, I had proposed a couple of questions.

But, a final thought/question:  what do y’all think the artist’s persona has been and is becoming and how has this been fostered/rejected by society?

Also, what are some stereotypes of The Artist?

 

It used to be that artists were eccentrics (occasionally stark-staring mad–Hi Vincent!  I see you over in the corner with Theo.), but they were still expected to (more or less) conform to deadlines, communicate well, run their workshops, and keep their patrons not-angry.

 

More or less.  There’s only so much you can do sometimes.

 

Now, we have the artist as flake–if not a full-on artist as elitist hipster correspondence.  If we’re really unlucky, artists (like chefs used to be) are social deviants who are artists because they can’t be anything else, because they are so far outside of what is socially acceptable that being an artist is the only way that they can have some position in society.

 

*so totally trying not to over-identify here*

 

There’s this weird idolization of artists, but it’s also paired with an even odder not-quite anxiety.

 

I don’t know.  I’m just thinking out loud here, ya know?

 

We have these stereotypes of artists:  artists are disorganized, flaky, academically deficient (Okay, I totally blow this one out of the water and most of the artists I went to school do too.  We were all Honor’s Students.), depressed, have addictive personalities, schizo-typal (There was a study and everything.), can’t really communicate in anyway other than our art, yada, yada, yada.

 

Seriously, what’s with all of that?  I’ve know a bunch of artists, and while occasionally true, these kinds of stereotypes are largely inaccurate.

 

Honestly, it seems like, when these stereotypes hold true, it’s because someone took them too much to heart and decided it was a good way to get out of doing things they didn’t like (e.g., Maths for a lot of artists).

 

*head on tentacle* I think it’s kinda silly that this artist paradigm exists (And what’s the first thing that we all learned about paradigms?  They are made to be deconstructed.), and even sillier that we all seem to get sucked into them sometimes.

 

I know I do on occassion.  I don’t want to, but I do.

 

So, what do you think Interwebs?  Do artists=the stereotypes, or all they all hype and an extension of anxiety?

 

too much to ‘splain; let me sum up

*points*  An obligatory Princess Bride reference for y’all.

 

So, this last week has been crazily, fantastically busy; hence why I am currently at home typing this into the blog-o-sphere at my little shadow-darkened desk (have I mentioned that it’s raining like the world’s ending?  with lightening and thunder and dark, dark skies?  the cats are totally in hiding, and I’m worrying about the nascent garden).

 

The good thing about being at home?  Chai, no-shoes, and fuzzy kitties when they come out from beneath the furniture.

 

But, I digress (as I often do).  Last week.  Yeah.  Too much going on, particularly on Saturday.

 

There was working in my studio at the Art Garage.  There was Gallery Night replete with insta-book demos for one and all (which went over really, really well and was like magic for people that tried it).  And, Saturday–oh, Saturday!–there was the Shawano Farmers’ Market (we also had the Rhubarb Festival and the Jumpin’ June Jamboree and Car Show, but I didn’t get to those), Faerie Fest at Thistledown Greenhouse outside of Bonduel, and a fundraiser for the Art Garage at the Green Bay Barnes and Noble.

 

While I got a ton accomplished in my tAG studio, that really wasn’t the highlight of the week, so I’ll spare y’all pictures of the last-week’s progress until next week’s post.  The highlight wasn’t even Gallery Night–although it was awesome, there were tons of people, and people were really digging my work in addition to the demo and book forms I brought with me.  The highlight was Faerie Fest, all of the lovely faerie folk, and the lovely vendors (about half of which were part of Kara Counard‘s 101 Women Project that is on display at the Art Garage until the end of June).

 

Faerie Fest took place at the Thistledown Greenhouse (which is moving to California?!? *turbo-pouts*).  So, yeah, there’s totally a greenhouse there, but what really caught my attention was their beautiful old Victorian house (there are a lot of old Victorians up here for some reason).

 

It’s like the Wisconsin-version of the house from Practical Magic without the tower.

 

They also have a bunch of feathered friends patrolling the grounds.

 

 

There was also a peacock, but I didn’t manage to get a picture of him.

 

So, there were a bunch of different vendors, but I’m going to, as usual, tell you about my favorites–’cause I can!  bwahahahahaha

 

There was Aurora’s Apothecary, Herb Shop, and Apothecary Museum (go like it on Facebook!) run by the lovely Miss Melissa.  Her shop is located in Greenleaf (Morrison), WI.  She carries culinary herbs and other kitchen ephemera, teas, make-your-own potpourri, home and garden decor, plants and seeds for gardening, body and health products, and fairy and magical accoutrement as well as housing an apothecary museum and teaching classes.

 

 

This is Melissa and her lovely gentleman friend surrounded by her amazing products (I like that she reads as an urban faerie due to the raver-esque hairfalls, and he’s steampunk-ish; they’re so cute!).  In addition to Melissa and friend being beautifully costumed (unlike me in my Dr. Seuss shirt),  she totally has a gardening gift in addition to the herbalism knowledge; I could smell her catnip from 8 feet away.  Totally, amazingly potent.

 

I bought a bottle of her Relief for Sore Muscles and Joints (which, anyone who knows me in RL knows that I’m pretty much in constant pain, so this product is a potential life-saver).

 

 

It contains essential oils of wintergreen, blackpepper, rosemary, juniper, fir, ginger, lavender, nutmeg, cajeput, clove, eucalyptus, cinnamon, lemon, safflower, aloe, apricot, almond, jojoba, VE, evening primrose, rosehip, and neem. All suspended in an amazingly light massage oil base (I have yet to feel like a ancient Greek wrestler after any application).

 

Okay, honestly, I hate wintergreen with a passion.  I used to have this really good muscle/joint stuff that I could never use because the smell of wintergreen made me crazy, made my head hurt, and made me sick to my stomach.  Sooooooo not fun.  But Aurora’s Apothecary?  The wintergreen isn’t noticeable and nothing in here is making my allergies act up–which is a miracle on the order of loaves and fishes cause there’s at least three things in there with which I habitually have problems.  Nothing.  Nada.  \o/

 

Mostly, I’m smelling the primrose and the lavender, which I’m liking.  Your mileage may vary.

 

Okay, personal testimonial time.

 

It’s totally not a cure-all, but it is definitely helping me out.  Hot shower (okay, I par-boil myself), application of Relief, ‘jamies, and snuggly blankets.  I might not be right as rain (which, what is so right about rain anyway?), but the muscles feel a bit looser, I’m sleeping a bit better, and my mental-state is a bit less “suck the world into a hell dimension.”  <–I’m reading Buffy fic again.  Can you tell?

 

I think that’s the most I can ask of anything as far as pain-management goes, so yeah, make a sojourn to Aurora’s Apothecary (or any of the many events that she frequents like the Door County Renaissance Fantasy Faire or the Green Bay Farmers’ Market on Broadway).

 

Then, there was book bones (Etsy shop) whose motto is “new life for old books” and describes her work as

 

 

My handmade jewelry and accessories are all made using old books in some form or another. No worries, though, most of the books are library discards. This means they could no longer be used due to the condition of the pages or outdated content. It warms my heart to take an unwanted book and turn it in to something beautiful and fun. I hope you enjoy them!

 

And she is totally not kidding.  She makes handbags out of book covers and jewelry out of altered pages.  They’re very altered book mets haute couture all out of upcycled materials.  Who could ask for more?  This is the piece that I bought (re:  Husband bought) on Saturday.  I made a specific beaded chain for it so that it wasn’t just on the temporary black cord.  I think they go well together.

 

 

There was also Sage Hollow (Facebook page), which is located in Denmark, WI.  <–They have a blog over——->here!

 

Aren’t they lovely faeries?

 

I bought some tea for my Wisconsin-edition Mother-In-Law (again, Husband bought) and tried to not sniff their wears too pornographically.  I sense a road trip in my future very, very soon.

 

The last of the vendors that I want to talk about is Gracie Designs.

 

 

Kelley of Gracie Designs make beautifully cute, hip accessories (that I totally want a bunch of, but I, since I am totally kept at the moment, I didn’t have any money).  She has an Etsy and a Facebook, so buy and like as appropriate!

 

She also frequents the Farmers Market on Broadway, so y’all can see her and Aurora’s Apothecary at the Market 3-8 on Wednesdays through the summer!

 

In addition to all of the fantastic vendors, there were so many wonderfully dressed faeries that I took kinda sneaky-shots from a distance so that people couldn’t be recognized since I hadn’t asked first.

 

 

This was the Cernnunos/Green Man of the day.  I got a little obsessed with this one, but I think that had more to do with me creating my own version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in my head.

 

 

In my head, these two became Oberon and Titania, which on the Shakespearean stage were played by the same actors that played Theseus and Hippolyta so that they were shadow-selves of the King and Queen of Athens.  *is a total Shakespeare geek*

 

 

And, for me, this was Oberon speaking with Puck (aka Robin Goodfellow).

 

After all of the fun at the Faerie Fest, I went to a fundraiser at Barnes and Noble for the Art Garage, and I signed up for a reading-slot for their Marathon for Literacy in September (as did Husband–he’s going to read something by Lovecraft, and I’m going to read “The Thing in the Forest”  from The Little Black Book of Stories by A.S. Byatt).

 

 

Okay, so this has become the longest, most picture-heavy post in the history of the universe, and I’m going to go now.

 

Courage.

on this episode of squid’s endeavors in artland…

For those of you that read my blog on a (semi-)regular basis, then you’ll remember that I’ve been working on a piece for The Fiction Project.  For those of you that follow my Twitter feed or follow me on Facebook, you’ll know that I sent my piece in on Friday.

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So.  The Fiction Project.  Completed.

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Yay?

*

I promised pictures (I’m always promising something, it seems), so without further ado (oh, come on!  more ado!  ado ado ado!), the bestiary of unnamed friends:  a travelogue.  From front cover to back cover and everything in between.

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The front cover.  Nothing terribly special.

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Some nice paper (hello, paper habit, how I’ve missed you so!).

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Nifty scrapbooking placard things.

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Hand-written title (there’s a load of handwriting in this thing, just to warn y’all).

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Obnoxious pink embroidery thread for binding purposes.

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Typically garish, ugly (in a good way) squidness.

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And, then?  The interior cover.

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*bum bum BUUUUUUUUUUUUUM*

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More nifty paper, but there’s the beginning of the narrative (sorta).

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The block of text is the definition of “bestiary” and reads

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bestiary n. pl. bes-ti-ar-ries

1.  a medieval collection of stories providing physical and allegorical descriptions of real or imaginary animals along with an interpretation of the moral significance each animal was thought to embody.  a number of misconceptions relating to natural history were preserved in the popular accents.

2.  a modern version of such a collection.

*

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The wee plushie ninja in the corner is our guide through all this craziness.  Just call him Virgil.

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Once the page is turned, this is what happens.

*

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In case it’s hard to read (I’ve got kinda sketchy handwriting sometimes, and I have the original notes and can totally blow the picture up to ungodly proportions), it says, without the formating:

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Once upon a time

[always the best

way to start

a story]

I

awoke

to

find

a little creature

[let’s not kid–

it looked like

a plushie-ninja]

sitting beside

my

head

and he said to me,

[Come with me

if you want

to live]

“It’ll be

fun.

I swear.”

He blinked

[plinked]

“Come with me.”

*

Yeah, I like my L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E poetry.  What of it?

*

Upon opening the panels of the books, the next part of the narrative is revealed.

*

*

*

This all reads linearly as

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and I said “Yes, I’ll go with you, Alice.  Down the rabbit hole we’ll go.  Go to a land which is unseen by all.

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The note on the squid’s head reads

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this is me  I’m a squid  don’t ask  it doesn’t make any sense least of all to me  xxoo, ‘Trie

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And, then, after all of that, is the full panoramic view of the unnamed friends in the bestiary.

*

*

I’ll save you all the individual up-close images, but I will give you what the words say.

*

Starting with the dragonfly-ish critter and moving down and around.

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They are tiny (it’s relative) blobs of hot air, dirigible of dragonfly elegance.  Pretension is their stock and trade.

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They, ginormous in their iteration, glide through mangrove swamps filled with slinking crocodilians.  They prey upon the unsuspecting denizens, enveloping them in their yearning, bilious membranes.

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Down the tower, it reads:

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architecturally unique

*

a living building

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a stone’s conception of time is so different from (h)ours–measured in milenia rather than moments–cricket-reduction means so much less ( like Eos’ mate).  Just another half-inch tectonic shift.

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The owlets read:

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grown-up in collective of frog-eyed complacency–to eat, eat, eaten, to be eaten–hiding in plain sight (unobservant though it may be)–feathered, leafy immobility helpless in the forest–spitting venomed wit at any who pass

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The blob-y blurp reads:

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*blurp*  *blurp*  *blurp*  *blurp*  *blurp*  *blurp*

*

a bottom dwelling creature bound in parasitic symbiosis with fungoid ground owls–protections and food all in one with nary (a squirrel upon my face) any reciprocation–a polite than you as it is ushered out the door.  Again, exiled from violet grace.

*

The pheasant-head springy sprong reads:

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Like Byatt’s “The Thing in the Forest,” these creatures literally move through their environments–slinking, slithering, pulsating, and subdividing.

*

Like cellular mitosis but with pain.

*

Yet, do we know that there is no pain in cellular mitosis?  Do the mitochondria scream when they remember that they once belonged to another entity?

*

There are worlds-upon-worlds at the micro-level–how can we know?

*

Maybe this little creature is but the unrecognized mitochondria of another, larger being.

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The tree stump reads:

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from the 100 acre wood  echoing “I’m alive” like the last unicorn (just go with the Kenny Logins cum Peter Beagle reference) like the last cry of the last ugly one-horned mule (so Legend made it’s way in too).  A 100 acre wood can do no more than grow, be cut down, be devoured, and fade out of memory, remaining as a remembered meal in a fungoid body.

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Up above the tree stump is the cloud sheep; it reads:

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the long lost (and misunderstood) brother of vegetable sheep–a bestiary staple–floating serene and separate, an alien never to be touched or interacted with–just gazed upon in silent wonder, autobiographical interpretations forced upon its cloud-docility.

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And the stymie, crawling up the tree stump’s side, reads:

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Up the tree down the tree waiting for its wings to grow (all sparkly and light–fairy-like in the way they shimmer) up the tree and down the tree isolated and alone all its friends have abandoned it in the mangrove swamp (really they were eaten–fed to–the bilious wings, a sacrifice to old gods with even older motivations–Jokey Smurf’s renditions of Seven.)  all because it was a little late to develop.  How sad.

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The back interior cover–

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Please note, replete with werewolf.

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The back back cover.

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More pretty paper.

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And that is the bestiary of unnamed friends:  a travelogue.  *bows*

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It, along with the rest of The Fiction Project pieces, will be touring the States and will be joining up with the tour in Seattle on June 10-12 (Poetry Jen, this is for you!) at the Form/Space Ateller.  The show will be at the Hyde Park Art Center July 14-17 all of my Chicago-land peps!

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Now!  To collapse somewhere squishy.  This was the longest post ever.  *collapses*

the continuing saga of squid-approved artists

Continuing my waxing rhapsodic about artists that I really, really enjoy, I give to you–Camilla d’Errico (and on Facebook)!

 

The first time I saw Camilla d’Errico’s work was in an issue of Hi Fructose (and on Facebook <–Can y’all tell that I’m all about pimping other people across the interwebs?), which, if you haven’t been reading Hi Fructose, you should be.  New Contemporary, Pop Art.  What isn’t there to luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurve?  I totally need to actually just suck it up and get a subscription so I don’t miss anything.

 

No Ordinary Love

What I love about d’Errico is her use of creatures juxtaposed with anime girls.  There’s something incredibly rich about this juxtaposition.  Like the creatures are an extension of the anime girls’ personalities; like they’re part of the stories that the girls write for themselves.

 

Such as No Ordinary Love.

 

Due to the presence of both the black and white crows, there’s this connection to the story of the crow in Greek mythology and how Apollo initially changed crows from white to black for telling untruths and then, after discovering that the crow had been telling the truth all along, made crows sacred and in charge of foretelling important deaths. <–Please note that actually just turning the crow back to white wasn’t an option.

 

There is a love story in here somewhere, and while love stories of any sort kinda make me want to hork, there’s something epic to this one.  She is the child of Water and Sky, the product of a broken home;  she’s not supposed to exist, acknowledged by none.

 

Then, there are also d’Errico’s nostalgia illustrations.

 

Glow Friends

Seriously, who didn’t have a glow worm as kid?  It’s like the quintessential 80s kid toy.  I fondly remember mine–received for Christmas when I was about 8 years old.  For a kid who was always afraid of what was in the dark (not afraid of the dark; it’s a very important distinction), a glow worm was more that a great present; it was comforting.

 

And warm.  I remember that it was warm to sleep with.  All that glowing makes for warm sleeping.

 

The little girl’s dress also makes it look like she escaped from whomever was supposed to be watching her after church on a Sunday afternoon.  <–No, I have never in my life ruined my church clothes (when I still had to go to church) by playing outside in them.  Not me.

 

 

And what kinda anime/manga illustration artist would d’Errico be if she didn’t reference He-Man on occasion?

 

 

Sorceress

 

It’s such a beautiful interpretation of the Sorceress from He-Man.  All wonderful blue-orange complementary color cord but with that delicate sadness that permeated the Sorceress due to her inability to keep her daughter, Teela, because of her Grey Skull duties and the loss of the Adam’s sister Adora.

 

Okay, I’m a bit of a dork that I remember this from when I was a kid.

 

But, it’s really nice to see other artists that are connected to their cultural moments like Camilla d’Errico and Aya Kato (there are other, but these are the ones that I’ve done blog-y bits on so far) and easily, and comfortably, reference popular culture.

 

And cephalopods.

 

Tickle Monster

Nothing to see here. Move along.

The last couple of days have been kind of an odd.

 

I stayed up extremely late (like 5 AM) last night because I had more of my unnamed friends decided that they had to escape from my head at that particular moment.

 

Pushy buggers.

 

(They haven’t been photographed yet.  My little revenge.  *cue mad scientist laughter*)

 

Therefore, productive =/=me today.

 

So sue me.

 

Also, yesterday, I did some updating of the images section of the blog.  It’s not remotely done yet, but there are a few things with connected concept.  Always a bonus.

 

Yamato Sakura

 

But!  I would like to share with y’all today one of my favorite artists of all time:  Aya Kato.  <–Why, yes, that is a Facebook page. \o/

 

Little Red Riding Hood: Encounter

Aya is a Japanese artist–arguably a superflat artist, but not because of the critical looking at consumerism or at sexual fetishism (although, some of her pieces definitely seem to have a fetishistic element to them).  I would consider Aya a superflat artist due to the way that she literally flattens surfaces to create depth and shallowness at the same time while combining traditional Japanese art (remember, manga has been around in Japan since the Edo period, and all Japanese superflat art inherently will connect back to that historical moment whether it wants to or not) with modern technology.  Darling (2001) writes in “Plumbing the depths of superflatness” that

 

“Yet in spite of its almost self-deprecating etymology, “Superflat” is far from unnuanced or superficial and has cracked open the discourse about contemporary Japanese culture and society. Its reverberations are now starting to be felt in Western cultural circles. Like a Japanese transformer toy, it has the capacity to move and bend to engage a wide range of issues: from proposing formal historical connections between classic Japanese art and the anime cartoons of today to a Pop Art-like cross-contamination of high and low to a social critique of contemporary mores and motivations. As such, “Superflat” requires exami nation from a number of different angles in order to be fully appreciated and understood, and the best place to start is with Murakami himself.”

 

New Japan: Learn a Lesson from the Past
Cinderella: Metamorphosis

 

If we look at Aya’s art, cultural contamination is everywhere from the meta-narrative ofher fairytale pieces to the highly conceptual constructions of her cityscapes.  The longing for childhood combats with sexual knowledge.  The traditional (and not-so-traditional) East confronts the West.

 

And, it’s all wrapped up in a candy colored awesomeness.

 

Puss in Boots

I think the only complaint I have is that, because she is so prolific, Aya culls some of the work from her online portfolio, and my favorite piece–Uma:  Puss in Boots–was taked down.  But!  I am a bad and stalkery internet denizen, and I have a copy of it from when it was still up.  <–I am very, very bad.

Homeless! Hated! Despised!

Okay, not really.  I’m just a refugee from my studio right now because I have two huge canvases in there drying, and there really isn’t room for me in there with them.  *shakes tentacle at tiny, tiny studio*

 

Though, true story, I kinda like my studio.  I just wish that I could have some of the stored things in there elsewhere so that I could store canvases and things in the closet out of the way (for example).  It’s shiny; I shall survive.  I’m doing pretty well so far.  At least, this studio has heating in it unlike DeKalb’s studio. *shivers in memory*

 

I’m working on another diptych right now of a caecalia holding the skull of her friend Yorrick in a Petshop of Horrors sorta way.  It’s one of those images that’s been living in my head for awhile, but it’s taken awhile for it to want to come out–mostly because, in DeKalb, I didn’t have the space to even set-up my easel.  Technically, I really don’t here either, but I’m making the space.  There are things in my head that want to come out!  I have a couple drawings of scrump that are manifesting too (photos are forthcoming–wet canvas is between me and my arting computer and camera /o\).  *points at picture* But, I really adore Matsuri Akino’s artwork, and Petshop of Horrors is so, so good.  Think a kinda Japanese Night Gallery, but with the agents of action being animals of some sort.  Carnivorous, cannibalistic rabbits whose originator is named Alice and looks like the perfect, human, angel by those that adopt her.  A mermaid whose really a giant fish, but looks like it’s adopter’s dead rock-star wife (the anime of this episode is really fantastic mostly because the music is brilliant).  And so on.

 

So good.  So wrong.  So fraking wonderful.  Artwork, music, and morality tales in harmony.  *jones for anime*

 

In other news, I’ve entered my The North Woods photography series into a competition.  My Facebook f-list and Twitter stream are probably really sick of hearing about it, but The Focus Project does this Threadless-voting thing and I’m annoying everyone to vote for me.

 

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, go over here to my portfolio.  Please.  You can vote more than once, but only once in a 24 hour period.

 

Vote for squid.  She’s awesome.

 

Or something.

 

*represents*