New works....and more coming

This semester I cranked out a bunch of work. Not all of it was successful, and these pictures don't include everything I've done this semester. These are the first five objects I made this semester. I really make most of these things simultaneously, but there definately a progression.


This piece is titled Tripod. I made it as a continuation of a comment on the sexuality of children's toys that I had made in undergrad. In undergrad, I made a teddy bear like this out of an existing stuffed animal. Here I decided to realize it in clay.





This piece is titled Magical Thinking. Each of those pieces is about 2o-22" tall. Magical thinking is non-scientific reasoning that includes the idea that the mind can affect the physical world. If we don't believe we have control over our bodies, then what are the physical manifestations of this? Or, what if you thought unkindly of another, could you physically change that person by thinking about it?









This is a funny piece titled, Winston was a busy boy. Winston is my dog, a French Bulldog. He is loved and spoiled. Dogs are attention seeking creatures. A dog is a companion who is excited to see you when you come home, watches your every move, and seeks approval or affection. But they, like humans, have the ability to ignore others and be self servicing. Here, Winston's makin sure his nails are tip top!

I'm Mad as Hell

Sometimes I feel like Howard Beale. I love seeing great rants on film. This movie is pretty ridiculously awesome. Its seemingly satirical. You might be thinking, the only movie revolving around the news that you would want to watch is Anchorman. Well, while Anchorman is a hilarious movie, this is a hilarious movie that makes you think. Full of dry dragnet type newscaster voices, a crazy power hungry woman moving to the top, and the mental breakdown/englightening of an old man jaded by the media, this movie must be watched. Its set in the mid-late 70's and seems controversial. here's just a couple scenes... the first is him cracking on the news. the second is the exploitation of his cracking, in the form of a network television show.

I'm proud to be an American. Cliches aside, I never thought I would udder these words and actually mean it. I've never considered myself patriotic, but I now feel like a greater part of the whole. I feel like people finally got their minds on the right track and realized that this country was in some serious need of feedback and direction. I feel better about America now.

I , like many others, watched the election results come in last night. I watched McCain's goodbye-thanks-for-the-good-times-speech and Obama's Fuck-ya-America-speech. It was the first time I felt like I was actually a part of history. I mean, I remember where I was and what I was doing when I found out the twin towers were hit (I was sitting at Perkins in my hometown drinking coffee senior year of highschool cause it was ISTEP testing day or some bullshit and seniors got to come in late for school, but anyway I digress, thats what went down on 9/11 for this homegirl), but I was not a part of making that happen or had no direct relation to the incident at all. Barack Obama is the first African-American president of the United States of America. ::Pause and think. :: We can downplay that all we want but the fact is, that will be in history books and children will read that and learn about that in school one day. And we were a part of that, we watched it happen and our votes came together and counted. It's like reading about MLK, reading about the first man on the moon, first woman in congress. These are the important, non-embarrassing parts of American history. We are a part of a proud moment in American history. So Fuck You President Bush. Its time to clean up your mess.

Scary dreams and christmas

Sometime this morning I had a dream that I'm not sure if I can explain because I remember it in scenes, more than I remember the storylines. I was at my current house in PA, while somehow simultaneously being at my parents house in Noblesville, IN. Rooms kept switching from one house to the other. I was being chased or hunted by something that was invisible. I walked out into my PA front yard and I could tell that there was something coming towards the house. I could see it like you can see heat in the summer. Then it saw me and attacked me. I hit it and it went flying backwards in the air. I leaped into the air and bounded across the yard like a damn moonwalker. I had learned how to defy gravity like in kung fu movies. In the dream I was terrified that this creature would, I assume, kill me. I'm not sure why I was afraid of this creature, I just knew I had to be. The scariest part of the dream was, that in parts of the dream I was watching myself. Its very rare that I have out of body dreams, and for some reason they always scare the shit out of me. When I woke up, it was very suddenly and I had a hard time convincing myself that I was safe in the house because the lighting was exactly the same as it was in my dream. I had to spoon Billy to know it was safe to go back to sleep. When I got up a few snoozes later, I went downstairs and looked out the front window and the yard, light, neighbor's garage door being open, the leaves everywhere, seemed eerily exactly like it was in the dream. It kind of gave me that deja vu feeling.
But don't worry folks, no invisible creatures attacked me when i went outside.

On a light, yet still eerie note, check this shit out.

These two films are by a guy named Brent Green. He plays guitar and narrates these his stories (I've seen it live, its great) and has other musicians play with him. Take some time to look him up(Nervous Films) and check out his other films. They're amazing!

What kind of movie are you?

Last night I watched a movie called Ira and Abby. Yes, this is a romantic comedy, but sometimes we indulge the heart first and the mind second. I was in need of a light pick me up in cinematic form. The premise of the movie is that Ira is this neurotic guy who was raised by analysts and has been in therapy all his life. Abby is this carefree girl who has the power to get anyone to open up about their lives and see the light at the end of the tunnel. They decide to marry within hours of meeting. The movie deals with marriage and communication. When there's a lack of communication between partners, they often seek an outside source, ie: friend, therapist, mother, priest. But what he find is that he keeps trying to qualify love, rationalize love, put love in a box, etc. He does not understand why this woman, who has boundless empathy and love for all people, even complete strangers, decides that he is the ONE person she wants to marry. He can't accept that sometimes things are easier than he thought they were going to be. There is no secret formula for happiness, love, success, life in general. But often times we make things harder than they have to be.
I've been finding myself trying to make things harder. Something inside me believes that life should be this dire struggle. Everything should be stressful. Anything worth having is worth dying for, therefore I must die to get it? This is ridiculous. Sometimes being smart is a downfall. It causes a lack of enjoyment of simpler times. If my life is a movie genre, its most likely a romantic comedy, and I'm the hopeless neurotic that doesn't understand the simplicity of being happy. At least on this cold Monday morning anyways......

This music combo makes me giggle. Its probably not new, but I've never heard it before. Enjoy

scrambled brains

So today feels like a rollercoaster. Midterm and Committee Review is coming up, the inlaws are coming for an extended weekend, there's mold growing under the wet carpet in my basement, and I just taught the head of the art history department how to (not kidding) save files, burn cd's, and use powerpoint. I haven't had sex in about a month, and to no fault but my own. I feel somehow detatched from my sexuality. I can only chalk it up to be from hormones and/or stress. I'm beginning to feel like grad school isn't all its cracked up to be, but I've yet to get any real feedback from anyone either. I miss the facilities that were available to me at Herron, both technological and human. No one ever comes looking for me, no one seeks out my advice. The professors just keep asking me if I like it here, if I like my studio, and if I have any questions to let them know. I feel a bit like a zombie. This post is about as scattered as my brain. So here's a performance/installation art video I found that makes me feel happy.

Presidential Debate

two words. Obama rules.

VP Debate

So I just finished watching the Vice Presidential Debate and I've got a few thoughts to offer. First thought I had was, I can't believe this bitch is real. I mean, I keep waiting for her to be like," JUST KIDDING! You thought I was really running for vice president......." But alas, she is a real person and she's really a vice presidential canditate. She held her own alright, but really she wasn't anything better than average, in debate terms. Second, if she referred to McKane as a "Maverick" one more fucking time, I was gonna puke. She's very into catch phrases of sort. She's kind of like a tupperware sales lady. I imagine she tells you over and over that its dishwasher safe, doesn't scratch, won't melt in the microwave, turns leftovers into gourmet meals and all kinds of crazy shit. But she wouldn't tell you that the tupperware was made with lead tainted plastic in some slave labor factory in an impoverished country and that you have to pay for shipping by the gram. Also, she kept mentioning her domestic problem solver for the oil crisis. RAPING ALASKA'S LANDSCAPE TO GET MORE OIL THAT'S JUST GONNA RUN OUT ANYWAY AND WON'T ACTUALLY SOLVE ANY FUCKING PROBLEMS. And don't get me started on her pro-life, lets keep em in the dark, abstinence only sex education bullshit. This woman does not deserve that office and she does not represent anything that matters to me as an American or as a woman.

Ventilation for my brain, these things weigh me down

I miss the ceiling of my childhood bedroom. There were faces and creatures and places in that commercial popcorn ceiling. It was familiar and new every time I looked at it. I have been taking familiarity for granted. I miss sitting around while the boys play guitar and banjo and fiddle and sing like they don't have a care in the world. I miss coffee and cigarettes with a good friend on a bad day. I miss seemingly meaningless conversations that lead you into the wee hours of the morning without notice. I miss losing at pool in a dive bar. I miss feeling guilty when I drove to my parents' house stoned. I miss the praise and criticism that can only come from someone who's watched your work evolve and grow. I miss loud drumming and screaming guitar riffs that I can only appreciate fully while watching people I know generate it. I miss the familiar embrace of a good friend. And there's something about a hug from your parents that just can't be beat. I'm thankful that I have Billy here with me, exploring a new world far from familiarity. I don't know where I'd be without that one familiar face.

A snooze dream

A snooze dream is one that you have between snoozes on the alarm clock. They can seem to be full length movies, when in reality they only last 8-10 minutes(depending on your alarm clock). My snooze dream is the only one I remember from last night's sleep. I dreamt about masturbation, or at least the dream had a lot to do with masturbation. In the dream, I was living/staying at my parents house. I was trying to take a shower in my parents bathroom when my dad opened the bathroom door and had some sort of non-important conversation, which resulted with me needing to leave the bathroom for some reason. I then went to my bedroom and laid on the floor in my towel. I was laying in front of my nightstand that houses my adult toys in my current home, but never existed in my parents home. I remember distinctly, locking my bedroom door, because my parents have privacy issues, rather, they assume anything done at home is private, therefore, EXTRA privacy seems ridiculous. Why would you need to lock a door within your own home, right? So, anyways, just as I've gotten my toys out of my box, my mother starts talking behind me and asks me in some hokey way if I'm going to masturbate (ie: Are you going to relieve/enjoy yourself?, etc). She's trying to be supercool about seeing my sex toys. Meanwhile, I blow up like a 16 year old girl on the rag. I yell at her and tell her "I locked the door/ you should respect my privacy/ you're a horrible bitch/ I hate you" (you know, normal teenage fight with mom stuff). Then I slam the door and my bedroom has kind of transformed into a conglomeration of every living room I've ever lived in. At this point I'm naked, my childhood bed is in the middle of this imagined living room, my sex toys are on the bed in the middle of this very open room. Out the window I see someone coming to my door. He walks right in and, because the room has suddenly become dark, he stumbles around looking for a light. He finds the light, turns it on.
This sudden flush of lamp light exposes my nakedness and the stranger is not taken aback. He plainly looks at me and asks where everyone is at? Suddenly, people I recognize start pouring into my house, ready for a party. Now I'm pissed because I don't remember committing to host any sort of party and because ultimately, masturbation time has been ruined!
As the party ensues, I find myself wearing a tshirt and undies. I yell at a drunk girl I went to high school with because in the dream I feel empowered, angry, and deep down- better than her. I seem to know I'm dreaming at this point, because I let everything fly and say all the things I've ever wanted to say to every person who's ever pissed me off or made me feel small. I took on the role of the loud-mouthed -"I'm gonna tell you everything people don't want to tell you because it will hurt your feelings"- kind of girl
Then, I exit the room and the loud party disappears. Next I enter the official bedroom of the dream (remember my bed is also in the middle of the living room with my sex toys on it). Here, I find my husband, his brother and wife, and a couple of their friends. Billy, Mike and Sara are waiting for me to come to bed and Adam, Tim, and Scott are sprawled on couches and the floor, within the bedroom. I crawl into bed and decide its too crowded and that I think it would be a good idea for some of us to sleep in the other bed in the living room. I get up, still wearing a tshirt and undies, and start looking through bags and piles of clothes for pants, I assume. While I'm looking for them, Mike looks at me and says, in a very -lifetime-movie-esque-creepy-way, "I think you look good just the way you are."
Enter Alarm Clock, end of storyline.
superweird.

I swam beneath the whales in a sea of grass

This dream is actually a few weeks old, but vivid and memorable just the same. In this dream, I started by swimming underwater. I had limitless swimming capabilities and eased through the sea with no problems. I swam along, like a mermaid, then turned over while swimming, so that I was facing the surface above me. Thats when I realized I was swimming with whales, big generic, national geographic whales. I began to weave through the water just below them. Then, just as I began feeling comfortable with gentle giants swimming amongst me, I turned over again to see that I wasn't in water anymore. I was swimming in the sky. Beneath me was a big beautiful flowing field of tall, green grass. I then began swooping like a bird, down toward the grass, then back up toward the sky, and repeat.
I felt so free in this dream, like I had no physical barriers, not even gravity could work against me. It makes me wonder what I could do, short of becoming addicted to hallucinogens, to feel that way in day to day life. I'm not saying that I don't feel free, but I do wish to feel more emotionally and conceptually boundless. I wish there was a healthy way to feel uninhibited by my own flesh. What would you do to feel this way?

Thanks Jurassic Park....

At the tender age of 9, I remember my whole family (parents, 2 older brothers, and I) went to see Jurassic Park when it opened. I don't remember whether or not I was excited to see this movie, but actually seeing the movie was not my ideal of "exciting." After the dinosaurs showed up in the story line, I spent the remainder of the movie crying into my father's shoulder. At the conclusion of the movie, I was so convinced that the marvels of modern science made this movie possible and dinosaurs, a real threat. I asked my parents over and over, why would people want to bring dinosaurs back? I asked if the island where the dinos were kept was a real place, and if so, what could we do to make sure the dinos never left the island. I truly believed, while watching the movie, that making dinosaurs from amber preserved mosquitos was real.
Since then, I've often had a reoccuring dream that involves dinosaurs. In my dream about dinosaurs, I am usually with a small group of friends or family, and we're usually trying to find a place in the house that we can hide and hope the dino(s) don't find us, eat us, stomp on the house, etc. There's something about still being chased by dinosaurs in my dreams that unnerves me. This dream is almost identical to the dreams that involve me trying to seek shelter from tornadoes or hurricanes inside a house. I can still imagine myself, peeking out a window, hoping to see but afraid of seeing, a dinosaur, tornado, hurricane, etc.....

Ready, Aim, Fire and Brimstone

This blog serves two main functions. One, is to chronicle my night time subconscious adventures. Yes, in short, this is a dream journal of sorts. I have had vivid and sometimes disturbing dreams for as long as I can remember. I feel if I have a collection of writings about them, however trite and cliche blogging may be, I will find better understanding and perhaps locate reason or meaning beneath these imaginative blankets.
Another function of this blog, like any other, is this will be a place for me to ramble and rant. I am currently a grad student at Edinboro University of Pennsylvania working on my MFA in Ceramics. I am married, I have a dog, we all live in a house in a small town, and we all watch a lot of movies thanks to Netflix. Hope I don't have to pay for advertising. As an artist, my dreams, my daily life, childhood, and sexuality are major influences into my art work. I blend and morph animals and humans into forms that evoke a rift or a disturbance in how we look at certain aspects of our lives. I like to use witty or wordy titles for my pieces and I'm not afraid to make artwork that will make me laugh.
Now that the function of my blog has been declared, I would like to discuss a movie I watched last night, one that probably most of the blog reading world has seen. JESUS CAMP. I've never watched a movie with my jaw unhinged for so long. About half way through the movie, I realized I had a look of disbelief plastered to my face. The the fact that the woman running the camp would compare the USE of these children to the extremists who militarily train their children to be weapons for the cause is disgusting. Cultures change, and cultures vary, but there's one thing that seems to tie us all together. We're animals. The difference between animals and us is the need to always be right or righteous. Actually, we're worse than animals. This woman talked about how easy it is to "HOOK" kids because they're so impressionable, they'll believe anything. And its true, but to indoctrinate a child into such a serious cause seems almost like a crime to me. Imagination beyond the religious realm is a crime to these children. A little girl(like 7 yrs old) was a dancer and she made sure to establish to the camera crew that she needs to be careful not to dance for the flesh, only for the lord. The kid with the amazing rat tail(truly impressive hair style) looked like he was ready to die for the cause. While I admit, I am a little jaded towards organized religion, I don't think there's anything wrong with believing in God. But the rules and standards and the mold making...... I just can't handle it. It was impressive to watch these children cry in prayer, convulse, and speak in tongues. I was very impressed at the complexity of ideas coming from their mouths, and their willingness to talk to strangers about their love for God and how they thought these strangers needed God in their life. But I was very disturbed at their quickness to label and judge others. One of the things I miss about being a kid was the lack of serious labels. Before children reach a certain age, they are color blind, religion blind, class blind. And by blind, I mean free of judgement based on this criteria. Being a poor kid in school didn't matter until about middle school. I didn't know other kids went to church until about that age either. And, while I went to a pretty much all-white school system, having a kid of a different race in class was more of a curiosity than a judgement.
I'm not sure that I intended to have a major point when I started ranting about that movie and the horrors of organized religion, but I do have some feelings about them. The movie was suprisingly unbiased. The filmmakers pretty much let the absurdity of the story speak for itself. There was no major need for any sort of commentary over the footage, the extremists can speak for themselves. On a side note, it made me very sad. I believe that childhood should be frivolous and imaginative. Its a time to explore all the formative options there are to offer. Its not a time to devote your life to anything. And if it were, I would still be worshiping my pile of stuffed animals.