All was well as we took off. I was enamored by the plane, its large
turbines glinting in the light. Everyone was excited to go to Hawaii. A mythical island in the middle of the ocean. We flew over the ocean for hours and hours. I couldn't figure it out. If we had to land, where would we go? Occasionally I thought I saw a ship but I'm sure
I was dreaming, we were thirty thousand feet up.
I fell asleep as the excitement and five hour flight wore me out. I
woke up to the fasten seat belt and the garbled pilot voice
announcing our decent. That's when it happened. While my sister and mom happily titled about our tropical events, I started to feel a pressure in my ear. Every foot we dropped towards the tarmac
felt like asphalt was being pressed into my brain through my ear
canal. I began whimpering. My family's chattering stopped. More
altitude loss meant more pressure and more head splitting pain. The
whimper turned into a wail. I was screaming in hopes the pain driven
into my ear would leave through my mouth.
My mom was trying to console me. "Its gonna be okay. You just need to pop your ears hunny." Mother's intuition, she knew. She was clutching my hands with a pleading look in her eyes. The screams of pain began to get the attention of the whole cast of tourists on the 747. My dad looked stunned, my sister petrified. They had never hear my cry so hard, like I was sacrificing these tears in exchange for my life. "Give him a piece of gum, he just need to release the pressure in his ears." Fifth row back, third seat over chimes in. I was grabbing the side of my head rocking back and forth with blinding pain at my ear.
They give me gum. I chew more furiously than any other child in
history. I chomped on that stick of Juicy Fruit like my life depended
on it. And that's how it felt. But this wasn't enough. "Explain him
how to pop his ears." How do you give directions in ear popping? I was
told to open my mouth as wide as possible and swallow as hard as I
could. No, I didn't have to chew the flavorless yellow stick anymore.
Finally, as I saw my life flashing before my eyes, we come into contact
with the ground. My ears making a little clicking side inside my head. The pressure evaporates, the pain with it.I open my eyes, struck with
relief, the last tears dribbling down my cheek.
I still can't stop opening my mouth and swallowing. I can't comprehend how this little motion took the pain of the world off my brain. People stumble off the plane to more beautiful tan Hawaiian woman than a eight year old has ever seen. Placing lays around our necks, kissing our faces and purring aloha softly into our ears.
This quarter I worked on a project on my cousin Kate. My thought process was very literal at first, but as time went on, I tried to include less pictures of her face, and more things that I thought about. Or scenes that reminded me of her. I think the way it continues on, I want the photographs to act as reminders for me, but keep it open ended for others.
Right now, we are in New York City, on the beginning of a road trip that will take us through the south, back up through Knoxville, somewhere in Ohio and back to Rochester. I am excited to make pictures with Kate around. Pictures of Kate without her in them. Happy trails.
Herb Lubalin, 1918 – 1981, entered Cooper Union at the age of seventeen, and quickly became entranced by the possibilities presented by typography as a communicative implement. …always “fascinated by the look and sound of words as he expanded their message with typographic impact.” After graduating in 1939, Lubalin had a difficult time finding work; he was fired from his job at a display firm after requesting a two dollar raise on his weekly salary, up from a paltry eight (around USD100 in 2006 currency)
All those feelings build up sometimes. Building and boiling up. Maybe its time for an art night. Nate, Kate and myself let loose with some good music and a sheet of white craft paper.
While Nate and I were in LA over winter break, I took him on a tour of Hollywood and all things touristy. At the time I was really excited to make these pictures but after I scanned them, I had no idea what to do with them. One day, maybe I will make a project about all the things that wash up in Hollywood; The look alikes, the tourists, the homeless, the crack smoking tourist. Or I will just fantisize about doing it and someone will get to it before me.
I have been experimenting with my new Flip Video toy/tool. While the quality is not amazing, it is great to be able to carry video around in my pocket. As a photographer I really feel dependent on the different tools I use. It is quite stimulating to diversify.
I really enjoy artist John Baldessari’s Conceptual work. Here is a video of him singing Sol LeWitt’s Sentences on Critical Texts.
Here is what he is singing.
by Sol Lewitt
1. Conceptual artists are mystics rather than rationalists. They leap to conclusions that logic cannot reach.
2. Rational judgements repeat rational judgements.
3. Irrational judgements lead to new experience.
4. Formal art is essentially rational.
5. Irrational thoughts should be followed absolutely and logically.
6. If the artist changes his mind midway through the execution of the piece he compromises the result and repeats past results.
7. The artist’s will is secondary to the process he initiates from idea to completion. His wilfulness may only be ego.
8. When words such as painting and sculpture are used, they connote a whole tradition and imply a consequent acceptance of this tradition, thus placing limitations on the artist who would be reluctant to make art that goes beyond the limitations.
9. The concept and idea are different. The former implies a general direction while the latter is the component. Ideas implement the concept.
10. Ideas can be works of art; they are in a chain of development that may eventually find some form. All ideas need not be made physical.
….and he goes on and on. More here.
I had this old pencil on the dashboard of my car for a long time. Every time I saw it, I felt uncomfortable, since its point was so dull and dirty. I always intended to sharpen it and finally couldn’t bear it any longer and did sharpen it. I’m not sure, but I think this has something to do with art.”
I have known about Retna and El Mac through the LA graffiti scene. Lurking the internet I stumbled upon this new collaboration they did. Not only is it huge and amazing, I see lots of connections with art history. Obliviously the religious undertones, (the script around her head is Hail Mary in Latin) but also with other painters. Looking at El Mac’s painting strokes and photorealism I thought of Gerhard Richter and Chuck Close.
It is really great to see how these artists started in graffiti but are really pushing things. The movement is progressing and things are evolving…inspiration.
