words

www.brianandbobbyspeak.com

I've known this guy, Bobby Wolter, for longer than just about any non-McKinley. He started writing letters years ago to someone he was introduced to by a friend. They're both Philly musicians, and both have cystic fibrosis. Because of the latter, they were never able to meeting in person, but developed an amazing freindship through correspondence.

They recently decided to publish these letters as a blog. They contain their most honest and intimate thoughts about life and death and art and love. I found them to be both uplifting and humbling. I also noticed that there is absolutely no transition in their voices or their subject matter when the means shifted from intimate letters between two people to letters that they knew were going to be published on the blog. Their openness and sincerity is refreshing to find on the internet.

In re-reading his letters over the past couple days, I was struck by how often Bobby mentioned his desire to help people. I know that his words have helped me a lot, and in celebrating his life, I wanted to pass them on.

Beauty in sadness...

A friend of mine posted this photo on his Facebook page the other day...not sure what he was planning on doing with it, if anything, but it really spoke to me... It's so insanely sad, this little, young looking fox, dead...the blood, the guts and all that... but I have been thinking about the image often and want to make a sculpture of it... It's so depressing, yet so gorgeous...(at least I think it is anyway)... I think its so funny how we keep going back to the phrase "the beauty and the sadness" as a collective but I really believe that it is part of what brings us together as a group...not everyone can find beauty in sadness...but I think the 4 of us ladies are quite good at it....now what that says about us is a whole 'nother story ;)

The Female Gaze:Women Look At Women.

Katy Grannan, Nicole, Potrero Hill, 2006


I saw The Female Gaze show the other week at Cheim & Read Gallery in Chelsea and it has been haunting me ever since. You know, in a good way. So many of my favorite ladies all in one room- Diane Arbus, Alice Neel, Louise Bourgeois, Sally Mann, Vanessa Beecroft, and Francesca Woodman to name a few. Shortly after viewing the show I came across an article by Ariella Budick that contended that most of the female artists in the show perceive women within the same "limits of convention" that men have perceived women for hundreds of years- very often nude and delicious looking. Maybe it is odd that as women, we accuse men of liking to look at women, but we apparently like to look at women too. Would women feel differently if these images had been made by a man? Do women cling to this vision of ourselves as first and foremost sexual or vulnerable? Are we looking for something to "take back" from the oppressor but then we just dump it back on ourselves and fuck around at the step of self victimization and self oppression instead of moving on to the level of genuine power and strength? Sometimes for sure.

But also maybe women have the tendency to playfully explore these areas of vulnerability within ourselves in a different way then a man might. It's not good to wallow solely in vulnerablity, but to honor that it's there, well maybe that's not such a bad thing if we use it to move forward. There were indeed several artists who portrayed their women with a more resolute air. Alice Neel's Olivia, for example has a look of defiance. As do Roni Horn's images of French actress Isabelle Huppert. In a way, I feel like every "woman in the room", or each piece of art could be put together like a puzzle to create one whole woman. Each image is like a snap shot of each of us at one moment in our life, or in a different stage of our evolution. It's like each artist has agreed to represent one face of a whole woman. After all, it wouldn't be possible to portray every aspect of a persons being in one piece. Viewed apart, an image like Lisa Yuskavage's Heart could be viewed with a measure of derision- How cliche to portray a woman so sexually. Well, yeah I guess, but part of life is being sexual, whether your a man or a woman, so why not embrace that? Lets embrace male sexuality while we're at it. Should we pretend that women aren't sexual or vulnerable as a defensive mechanism? Maybe as a woman the key is not to make art that you yourself would find objectionable had a man made it. People are complicated. Men and women. Personally, I think vulnerablitity is a good thing. And the responsibility to treat yourself and others with respect and dignity as well as honesty falls on both sides of the gender fence.

La

Here's a link to the article I referenced earlier: http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/9abedb9c-8046-11de-bf04-00144feabdc0.html

Strike a Pose

Mary Louise Brooks

Last Sunday I posed for Laura Graham, for the new photo project she's started...

I looked at the test shot and saw how I was transformed into somebody else. I took instructions to bring the protagonist she thought up, with her layered back story, her uniqueness, to life. But when I looked at the photo I was not just her created character but a combination of myself and the person Laura conceived...

Even on set, with its specialty lighting and exotic, old timey quality, and in costume, I still saw myself in the photo...through it all. I wonder if it takes a special person to convey the subtle duality of both the intended character and the posed model in a piece, or if IT, that thing, is inborn into the photo, or drawing, or film reel...can a model ever completely transform into an invented character or will she somehow find a peephole to shine through?

I have modeled in costume for a few artists, one in particular on a semi-regular basis, and I sit thinking, what do they see when looking at me as their created characters? Do I transform?

As I embark on a new project drawing my girlfriends as different characters, I hope that through the medium I can convey that magic that happens when you can see that line between fact and fiction. Because on that line sometimes lies truths about the model and the artist that were previously unbeknownst to them both....



xo ac

Cliff Jumping

I feel like alot of times taking risks is brought up in this blog, and funnily enough it's often refferred to as some kind of diving or jumping into water...a perfect visual that expresses the fear of the act of making oneself jump and the fear of the unknown that you're jumping into...
I've been feeling alot like that lately but in a slightly different way than I normally do...my life is planned...always schedules, schedules, schedules and future coordination and "I'm free this time during this week, when are you free so we can make a date"...Looking ahead though my calendar starts to thin and this scares me. It was intentional, because who knows what I'll have time for once I pop out a little one, so I didn't want to schedule a bunch of stuff and not be able to handle it...but nonetheless, not having a plan scares the shit out of me. So in order to appease my planning self I looked online for actual cliff jumping instructions to see if they would apply in any way to metaphorical cliff jumping...

From Wikipedia

Platforms for cliff jumping

For cliff jumping, the platform is usually a simple clearing in the bushes and other vegetation along the cliff above a river, ocean, lake, or quarry.

Sometimes railway bridges and other bridges are used as platforms. They can sometimes be distances up to approximately 100 feet above the water.

Abandoned quarries, and deep ponds will often have platforms, whether by design, or by improvisation of the people in the community. For example, platforms will often be affixed to towers in abandoned rail yards, overlooking a deep pond.

Safety and traffic control

Many naturally occurring platforms are unofficial, and simply known among the children in a community. For example, the children are often tresspassing on quarry land, or the like, when they use the platforms. Usually the locals check the water to make sure it is deep enough and free of clutter, but there is always the danger of a dead fish or beverage can, bottle, branches, or the like floating near the surface of the water. Bad angle of entry can also cause injury even in the absence of clutter (e.g. broken bones or re-arrangement of internal organs from the impact of the water itself, if landing crooked). Being knocked unconscious by the impact can also lead to drowning.

Technique

For cliff jumping, there are several techniques that can be utilized. The main technique involves landing in a pencil shape typically with hands at the sides or above the head. Keeping limbs in results in a freer and more painless entry. Pointed toes and closed mouth also assist in a smooth jump. Some prefer to jump with shoes or sandals, while others jump merely barefoot or naked.

For larger jumps (50 ft +), the angle of entry is critical. To ensure that you always enter the water vertically, it is proper to jump leaning slightly forward, keeping your point of entry in view. Extend your arms for balance. As you fall, gradually tuck in your arms, and bring together your legs. A gradual backward rotation throughout the jump will bring you from your initial forward position to complete a vertical entry. Common errors include backward over rotation, which may lead to butt flops and painful enemas, not tucking in arms or legs, which can leave nasty briuses on big jumps. Generally, the highest jump that should be attempted is 100ft. The world record dive stands at 172ft, set by Dana Kunze.

Always work your way up gradually in height and never jump big alone.

I guess what I can glean from this is that people jump from different situations all the time, some of them fuck up and/or do metophorical butt flops/get painful enemas (?!) , and some of them do just fine. I think "checking the water first" and planning your "angle of entry" both sound like good ideas...as does working your way up gradually in height and never jumping big alone...

Plan, 1, 2, 3, jump...

Vacation from my vacation...

This is my makeup post from last week since I was away on vacation...the week flew by and I had all these intentions of getting many many things done...sculpting bunnies, reading books, making lists. Instead I did nothing but a whole lot of sweating my ass off...It is such a rare day, let alone week, when I am doing nothing at all, so it felt insanely good to blow off everything I wanted to be doing and just relax and sleep and sweat (it was hot!) and swim and eat animal crackers and chocolate soy milk...I came back today feeling tired but ready to go with everything I have on my plate. Not doing all these things while I was away means that technically I'm "behind" where I wanted to be at this point, but I think it was for the better...too often we push ourselves to the breaking point, when sometimes breaks are what end up being more beneficial. It's really hard for me to relax and let go, but I'm trying. I want to do more of this in my life, both art-wise and normal stuff-wise. We'll see how it goes...I feel like its akin to Aubrie's post on not complaining...letting go and taking breaks and recollecting thoughts is so hard...you just have to let yourself off the hook sometimes...
I am exhausted and planned to write more, but in the vein of letting go, I am going to go to bed now (at 8:40 pm!) and am not gonna feel guilty about it for a second ;)
Happy to be back...

Not the Wheel, the Carousel

Always a bit slow to pick up on television shows, I have just recently discovered the dark sexy magic that is Mad Men. I feel like I could blog about this show for months, there are so many sides of it that address the issues I confront in my art. And it's just so pretty - the clothes, the light, the color - and goddamn Don Draper. I just finished watching the first season thanks to the good folks at netflix, and was so moved by the scene below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suRDUFpsHus

So much of my work is rooted in nostalgia, not only for things as they were, but for how I wished them to be. For me that is the ultimate frustration ("God it's so painful when something that's so close is still so far out of reach") -- haunting memories of possibilities squandered or beautiful people and situations that somehow slipped away.

I've always considered family snapshots to be one of the most interesting genres of portraiture. Candid pictures capture moments that would otherwise be forgotten, and often let you see something in yourself and your loved ones in a way that you can only notice when frozen. Posed pictures can say even more - in attempting to put your best face forward, you reveal not only how you would like to be perceived, but often unintentionally whatever side you're trying to hide.

This monologue really captures the incredible strength of personal photographs. I know that I can think for days of my memories of a family member who's passed away without shedding a tear, and one quick glimpse of them blowing out their birthday candles can reduce me to a sobbing wreck. As Don eloquently points out, these images have the power to transport you to another time.

Time to throw open the albums and pick up the paint brush...

Don't Complain

Huseyin Alptekin, "Don't Complain"

I got this email from my best friend, Beth:


Friday, August 14, 2009 8:56 AM
From: "beth King"
To: "Aubrie Costello"

I'm intrigued by this, thought you may be too......

http://lifestyle.msn.com/your-life/reinvent-your-life/articlegh.aspx?cp-documentid=20985140&GT1=32036






Do You Complain Too Much?

Author Valerie Frankel tests the popular program outlined in the book A Complaint Free World and tries to curb negativity, one gripe at a time.

By Valerie Frankel

Times are tough. I'd been saying that a lot lately. On the phone with my sister, I was refining the theme in detail, whining about the economy and free-floating anxiety along with the usual daily snafus. Annoyingly, she refused to join in my gripefest. It was so unlike her.

Then she told me she wasn't allowing herself to complain. In fact, the congregation at her temple, inspired by the book A Complaint Free World by Missouri minister Will Bowen, was attempting to stop griping, moaning, and whining en masse.

"For God's sake, why?" I asked.

"No need to put more negative energy out there," she told me. "It does more harm than good." As she continued to explain, and as I later read in the book, Bowen's theory was that complaining only exacerbates problems, individually and collectively.

"When we complain," he writes, "we are using our words to focus on things that are not as we would like. Our thoughts create our lives, and our words indicate what we are thinking. It is vital that we control our minds in order to re-create our lives."

The first step in controlling your mind? Become aware of what comes out of your mouth. By Bowen's logic, once you notice your complaints, you'll start to notice your negative thoughts and can learn to reframe them with more positive ones. Then you'll be happier, healthier, and wealthier.

It sounded ridiculous to me. Complaining was the glue that held my emotional life together. I didn't call it complaining, anyway. It was bonding, commiserating, friendship-building. Sure, I might veer toward the negative, but that was just my personality — and the personality of everyone I knew. Besides, the very concept of doing away with complaints was preposterous. Would not griping about the economy help pay the bills?

Then again, complaining wouldn't pay the bills, either. My sister, not complaining for only one day thus far, hadn't yet noticed a new serenity. Which, I pointed out, was technically a complaint. "You're right," she said, "I have to switch my bracelet now." The wrists-on component of Bowen's prescription: Each time you griped, you had to move a rubber bracelet* from one wrist to the other. The physical reminder focused your consciousness on the quest. On his first day of taking the no-complaint pledge, Bowen switched his bracelet so many times his hands got tired. A few months later, he'd achieved his goal of going 21 consecutive days without complaining.

I doubted I could go 21 minutes.

But I was willing to try — especially since not complaining was free. I'd give it a week, and then assess whether I felt less stressed. My husband, Steve, and daughters — Maggie, 13, and Lucy, 10 — agreed to join the fun (see? more positive already). I had to bribe the kids, offering them $100 at the end of the week, minus one dollar for each complaint. To my ears, all they ever did was complain, so I felt sure I wouldn't owe them a dime.

*A bracelet can be ordered for $1 at acomplaintfreeworld.org — so far, nearly six million have been sent out.

After my initial reading, my response:


Friday, August 14, 2009 12:14 PM
From: "Aubrie Costello"
To: "beth king"

this is amazing....can we do this though.....the writer put it perfectly... it is the glue, complaining. it does bring people together... but i know that the stiffest my neck gets is during complaining sessions. damn. crazy. i honestly feel like i'd loose a piece of me if I gave up complaining. I do it all the time. i can't even count how many times I do it during the day..or think it...i think complaints....wtf.
this is a challenge. especially if i have to work with my father....like how do you control it if you're surrounded by people who are complaining to you. won't it be awkward if you don't join in w/ empathy or sympathy for their complaints...I seriously cannot imagine my life without bitching ha.
i need to find a rubberband here at work...







All this talk about complaining brought me back to '07 and The Pavilion of Turkey at the 52nd Venice Biennale....http://www.biennale07-turkey.org/giris_en.asp?m1=ana






xo ac

Connections.

Apparently I am the last person to know. Which isn't a surprise because I can be a little slow on the uptake. But for those of you a bit slower than me, check out Krzysztof Kieslowski's Trois Couleurs stat. Due to my recent Irene Jacob obsession I rented the last one first, Red. The films are made in the order of the colors of the French flag, blue, white and red (liberté, égalité, fraternité!). The common thread running through the films is the need for human connection, which resonates hugely for me these days. But the parallels in each film and throughout the three films are what makes them profoundly beautiful. Nothing is a mistake, everything is there for a reason. Which is what life is, I think. Everything is connected and everything has a lesson in it, but not in a moralistic or obvious way. What can you make of a chance encounter?

24

I'm 24 today.






from wikipedia:

In other fields

Astronomical clock in Prague

24 is also:

* The number of bits a computer needs to represent truecolour images (for a maximum of 16,777,216 colours). (But greater numbers of bits provide more accurate colors. "Truecolor" is one of many possible color representations.)
* The number of a broadcast television channel
* The number of Carats representing 100% pure gold.
* The number of cycles in the Chinese solar year.
* The number of frames per second at which motion picture film is usually projected.
* The number of hours in a day.
* The number of letters in both the modern and classical Greek alphabet. For the latter reason, also the number of chapters or "books" into which Homer's Odyssey and Iliad came to be divided
* 24, television series starring Kiefer Sutherland. Each episode covers one hour, with 24 episodes making up one entire "day".
* The number of points on a backgammon board.
* When pronounced "two-four", a 24-pack of beer (Canadianism).
* A children's mathematical game involving the use of any of the 4 standard operations on 4 numbers on a card to get 24 (see Math 24)
* "24", a song by Welsh musician Jem
* The maximum number of Knight Companions in the Order of the Garter
* The Twenty-fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution is one of the Civil Rights-era amendments, abolishing poll tax requirements in federal elections.
* The designation of US Interstate 24, a freeway that runs from Tennessee to Illinois. Also many other roads called Route 24
* 24 is considered an unlucky number in Cantonese culture because its pronunciation is similar to that of "easy to die". For this reason, many buildings skip this floor number. The same goes for 13, 34, 44, etc.
* #24 is a recurring character on The Venture Bros.
* A Straight Edge symbol, for X is the 24th letter of the alphabet.
* The number of the French department Dordogne.
* In Brazil the number is associated with homosexuals due to the number representing the deer in the gambling game Jogo do Bicho and the word viado (a misspelling of veado, deer in Portuguese) being a slang for homosexuals.








..to a new year. I hope it's filled with unfamiliar adventures. And I like it.

























photos courtesy of Laura Graham
cupcakes courtesy of Beth King
what a lovely birthday with great friends.




xo ac

Goals...

I found this bit when I recently reread a book I made during my first year at Moore...

(Click to enlarge image)

...

a day in the life

I thought you, dear reader, might be a little curious about a day in the life of the Other Woman. Well, not a whole day, but the latter part of the morning and the afternoon last Sunday. On my way to the home where we will one day live together, making art and eating chocolate and raising babies and goats and entertaining the occasional gentleman caller, I encountered torrential rains and flash floods. But nothing can keep me from my girls... Sadly, Aubrie and I were literally two ships passing in the storm, but one day soon we'll all be together.

And now, a brief accounting of the events that transpired, the topics of discussion, and the horrors stumbled up on youtube (in list form, of course):

• blueberry pancakes
• "milking" as a possible income-earning opportunity
• shaved heads
• our band-to-be
• breastfeeding third graders
• jacko
• hyper-realistic baby dolls
• real dolls that look like us and whether or not we'd have sex with them
• a real doll that is a composite of all of us (our "baby")
• munchkin suicide
• talking toys with secret messages
• nakie swimmie
• the G train
• Twitler, a variation on Twitter used to track Gerard-Butler related thoughts and acts of stalking
• former [fingers-crossed!] stalkers
• French men

And, on a barely related note, my mom just sent me an e-mail containing the following [unattributed] quote:

'Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater. If you give her sperm, she'll create a life. If you give her a house, she'll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit.'

Here comes the (ghost) bride...

Artists dressed as chinese ghost bride and groom at Halloween event in Hong Kong.

My newest fascination?  Ghost weddings.  I can't even remember how I stumbled upon this topic, but now I can't get enough.  It seems this is a tradition that has been practiced worldwide in various forms (even in France, unexpectedly), but it occurs most notably in Chinese culture and within  an ethnic group called the Nuer, who are indigenous to Sudan.  A ghost marriage can bind two deceased spirits, or a living person with a deceased person.  In China, the belief is that the journey of the afterlife must be a shared one.  Therefore, if a son of marrying age dies alone, his family may feel they need to secure a partner for him.  Other reasons include integrating a daughter into a patrilineage (historically in Chinese culture the belief is that a woman has no ties in the afterlife to her birth family- she must integrate into her husbands family line), or to make sure a younger brother isn't married before a (dead) elder brother.  Some living women choose a ghost marriage over marriage to a living man to have ties with in-laws but maintain a measure of independence... though she is then required to then move in with her in-laws to care for her new mother in-law and live a life of celibacy.  whont whont.

In the Nuer culture, the deceased grooms brother will act as a stand-in for the groom during the marriage ceremony.  An interesting twist in the Nuer tradition is that sometimes a woman (most often one who cannot have children) will marry another woman.  The first woman will be called the "husband" and may marry 2 or 3 more wives.  She will then appoint men to impregnate her wives, though she as the female husband will be regarded as the father of any offspring.  American conservatives would shit a brick with this one.  A priceless combination of polygamy and gay marriage.  I love it.  Sign me up.

It should be noted that in modern China the tradition of ghost marriage is regarded as simply a relic of the country's extensive history, and is now practiced only in a few rural provinces.  The part where it gets really creepy is that in recent years, there have been several instances of grave robbing as well as the murder of innocent, living women to fill the shortage of young female corpses to be used as ghost brides.  Supplying grieving families with ghost brides can be quite the money maker, apparently, and fresh corpses in good condition solicit more money than a dessicated husk.  I suppose it should come as no surprise that the preoccupation with feminine beauty and youth extends beyond the grave.

Being a crafty girl, my favorite part of this custom are the ceremonies.  In China, traditional marriage rites are observed using stand-ins constructed of paper bodies over a bamboo frame with a paper mache head (sometimes bearing a smiling face cut from a poster or calender).  They also get paper servants!  And home products such as a refrigerator, paper clothes, a dressing table ect...  These paper belongings are burnt after the ceremony so the happy couple can use them in the spirit world.

Ghost wedding ceremony.

Paper ghost bride.

xoxo,

La

Playing Possum

Maxwell's Playing Possum on Black Summer's Night:

Come back from the dead
You left my, my heart here
Say what you will and won't forget
Express disappointment, speak your regrets, yeah
Or baby call out my name, I'll be where you are
I'll be very still, step down to my heart

Amend this broken
If only you'd wake up from your constant possum playing
If only you'd wake up

I'm begging you sugar, have some leniency
Call the President and ask him baby, to pardon me and bring you
back to me
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oooooh

And mend this broken
If only you'd quit this nonsense of you possum playing
If only you'd wake up, would you wake up, would you wake up baby

I used to love musicians. On a private level I'd daydream of them writing songs for me.. not telling me until I heard them perform a set somewhere added to the fantasy of it all. There's an intimacy in real song writing. I'd like to think that lyrics come from the depths of the mind revealing secrets not always shared between two people. There's just something about it, secrets about you being sang from the lips of a lover over the mesmerizing sounds of an instrument. Those lyrics sang on stage in front of a room of people, unraveling thoughts, unearthed secrets, storytelling about you and him so intimate its like you're making love in front of them. So uncomfortable, so sexy, so labyrinthine, so thick all at once.
I guess it felt like it authenticated something...a song about you...that someone finally saw you were something else, different.. off enough from the monotony that you inspired thoughts worthy of becoming a song to share.

Like a possum I've played dead for years. For fear of feeling too much. Of letting in the wave. The wave of love with its changing tides. To feel normal I've felt like I needed the waters to be still. If, in a song, he told me to wake up, would I be hypnotized to wake up, mesmerized by the combination of his voice, his words, and the sounds of the band of instruments? Or would I fall paralyzed to his honesty? Would I be knocked over by the tidal wave, floudering and blind in the exotic water? Would I drown...

The Wading Room no.8

I sit thinking, what if someone wrote a song about you and you never knew it?





xo ac



p.s.
Playing Possum
and
Baby I'm a Fool

..Melody Gardot. I went to school with her. And she made it. She's striking. I think we should collaborate...and sometimes I want to be a singer.

a final xo.
AC