Loose lips

This cracks me up.

As far as I can tell, the misspelling was unintentional.

But it demonstrates its own point so well!

My face had said too much before our hands could even touch.

There is something oddly self-absorbed about being in school. Or maybe it's just something that comes with being an artist. We're supposed to know not only what we're making, but why. In my studio class, we're supposed to identify our obsessions. That's actually an assignment. Explore your obsessions.

Basically, as an art student, I'm studying:

1) technique

2) art history

3) why I'm nuts

...and not even in that order.

In many ways, being an artist is like constantly being in psychotherapy. Except we're both the psychiatrist and the patient. And there's no one to tell us what the prognosis is.

So one of the things we're doing in class is to collect images of things that inspire us and fuel our obsessions. It's actually a great activity for developing a clearer insight into What-We-Make, so I thought I'd share an image every once in a while.

I don't want you, but I need you.

I'm starting a body of work that uses
many small pieces to make large wall adornments.

I like the repetitive process of making multiple objects with slight variations.

It also started me thinking about how much humans like collecting things.

Why do we find many of one thing to be so much more engaging than any one piece by itself? I think we're a little greedy, but I also wonder if it's because we see an inherent resemblance to ourselves as a human species. We are essentially a collection in which each individual is varied and comes together to create something rich and diverse.

If this is true,

can a group of objects be used

to evoke a feeling of belonging?

Loneliness? Nostalgia?

Once in a blue moon, there's a blue sky.

My work from last semester, displayed for the critique.

(You can see closeups of the pieces on my website.)

Boom, boom, boom, boom.

"All women become like their mothers.

That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his."

-Oscar Wilde

I've begun an immense undertaking,
one that may later be known as

The Great Reorganization of '11.

Several things occurred at once which brought on this reorganization.

1. I have a new roommate moving in.


2. I can't figure out where half my stuff is. I mean, I know it's here. It's just under the other half of my stuff. But when I'd actually like to have whatever it is in my hand and use it? Then I have no idea where to look. Most recently lost? My scissors.


3. I have time. (That wonderful thing that goes to waste if you don't use it RIGHT NOW. Haha, yeah. That's always been my motto.)


4. I had an epiphany. To be fair, this is something my mother's been trying to teach me since I was born. I don't know if it's never really mattered to me, or if it just now sunk in, but here it is: If everything has a place where it belongs, then it's really easy to clean up and you never have to wonder where your hackletujiklethingy is when you need it. Actually, in the words of my mother it goes like this; "You can just go boom, boom, boom, boom, and everything is put away." Very Mary Poppins-esque, and apparently actually a really good idea.


4(a). There is the possibility (reality??) that I'm getting older. It's manifesting itself in unusual ways. For instance, you know you're getting older when you're so excited about your new vacuum cleaner that you really really want to update your facebook status with gushes about how IT ACTUALLY SUCKS, but you know no one else cares AT ALL.


So, what does this mean?


It means I'm getting rid of a lot of clothes that I never wear. Rule of thumb: if it's been three years and I still haven't altered that skirt that isn't really my style anyway, it can probably go. Additionally, if it's from eighth grade and I've worn it three times since then, it goes.


It means some new shelves.

It means my art supplies are getting labelled and put ALL in one place.

It means I'm becoming my mother. Those who know her intimately know what I mean. I've classified my shoes. I'm trying to decide if I should institute my own version of binomial nomenclature in my closet, but then they might start reproducing and there'd be no more room.

The beginning of my shoe phylum. And the cat getting pretty excited about the change.

Ah, yes, all is going well. Just as long as The Great Reorganization of '11

doesn't lead to The Great Shoe Boom of '12....

I updated my website.

It has my new work and now hopefully looks nice in all (or most) browsers.

Of course, let me know if it doesn't.

www.shirabrooks.com

ceramic & metal