a blog, chalk-full of witty observations and aspiring side-notes, collected off the side of a cognitive highway of a twenty year old artist. good evening, ladies and gentlemen. my name is elise hanson.
..is what I've been saying to myself a lot lately. As some of you know I'm really working very hard this semester to try to get at least five really solid pieces so I can apply for the BFA program at the end of the spring semester (assuming I get another five to six pieces done at the end of that semester). It's a very significant goal for me and if you ask any of my friends in class, it's close to the only thing I obsess about, let alone talk about. There's a lot of perks about being in the program (i.e. an independent studio space, a higher degree, being highly skilled in your emphasis area, extra attention from the prof's...) but I guess what I am most drawn to it is the agreement within myself that this is what I'm doing for the rest of my life, and there really is no turning back (unless I suddenly become motivated by the idea of another five years back at school, despite all drawbacks and complications).
I really saw a drastic change take place in my working habits this semester. I'm currently taking Printmaking (Etching) and Sculpture 1, both of which I did not take in high school, thus had no real idea what I was getting myself into. Both classes have really taught me a lot about form and existing characters in space, both very essential lessons to learn. Beyond the 'formal stuff', I have also discovered, or at least 'gotten a taste' for, my style. What drives me. How I'm wired. I've found this unconscious decision being executed through my works. I've come to realize (not just in my own works, but reexamining classical art or even literature) I am very moved and emotionally connected to these kind of profound senses of raw reaction and feeling. It's like that scene in (god forbid I mention it again..) American Beauty when the character Ricky Fitts mentions in passing a homeless woman freeze to death on the sidewalk and how it was "amazing. When you see something like that, it’s like God is looking right at you, for a second. And if you’re careful you can look right back." That is pretty as close to it as it gets, I'm afraid. These (perhaps not always drastically upsetting) dramatic events that maybe not be comfortable, but there's this undeniable sense of raw beauty there. In..credible.
Anyway. Here are some images of the pieces I have made thus far in my two classes this semester. Next semester I am registered to take Creative Photography and Painting 1, which I am thrilled about and cannot wait to start them already.
Etching:
stage 1.
stage two.
stage three, final.
collective, together.
'Now', plate 1.
'Now', plate 2.
'Now'.
'the Delivery'.
Sculpture:
The combination of a container and unrelated object: electric lamppost and wedding veil.
driftwood carving
Plaster sculpture of an slightly-fictionalized Angler fish.
Installation: 'Remnants'. Now in the KAB In-Use gallery.
For some of you that don't know, I'm going to be partaking in UNI's National Student Exchange next year. I have selected a few schools I'm really interested in attending, and unsurprisingly, they're all in New York. (Queens, Saratoga Springs, and Stony Brook, to be exact). Perhaps my mind is a little bias about where to travel next, but I am just dying to get a taste of the Big Apple. Even if it is 3 1/2 hours drive. I wanted to compose this intro for some people who weren't aware of my traveling plans and more-or-less gush about ten things, not in order, that I'm jumpy or that dreams could only suffice to.
1.
Woody Allen. Gah. I am a total fool for his films. He has the most remarkable high-brow, intellectual sense of humour that if you the listener are tuned-into enough to catch, you too will see what I mean. He also has this beautiful dedication to his city, almost like a romantic life partner. The way he way he romanticized the city he loved (particularly in the opening of Manhattan) is breathtaking. And Annie Hall, I could go on for years about..
2.
New York Public Library. I am already a sucker for being in a library for what feels like a year at a time and I go numb thinking about spending an entire afternoon-turned-weekend sitting between the hundreds of book shelves and taking in that calming, historical, nostalgic smell of those library books that have sat on those shelves for the number of years they have.
3.
Seinfeld. This could probably pass as that one television show I could watch reruns forever of, lounging on my tethered blue sofa, eating chinese take-out from the deli (or from the Soup Man restaurant) down three blocks in my Nike shoes and sweatclothes (I don't wear any of that, really.) Just on days when it's grey, and I can't leave my apartment. I need to stay in (which is more-or-less often). I crave that alone time..
4. Truman Capote. I seem to have this notion I should try to read as many of his novels/novellas in the shortest time I can. Eat it all up. I cannot get enough his objective writing of people. He has such a sensitivity to defining a person by their actions and reactions. I just finished Breakfast at Tiffany's last week and it was delicious. I don't mean that in a gawdy sense but it was truly a treat. I'm currently reading now In Cold Blood , which is arguably his most famous work and I am starting to see why. I highly recommend his work..
5.
Audrey Hepburn. I can now see why everyone is so taken with her. She has this divine energy about her that is so contagious. Not only is she a stunning beauty with this overwhelming sense of genuiness, she really lights up the screen when she is in film. One of my biggest guilty pleasures (as cliche as it may sound) is settling down on a Sunday morning and watching an Audrey Hepburn movie with my mother with hot tea. It's a timeless pleasure and it is spent so well.
6.
Alfred Stieglitz. I just recently purchased his book of New York photographs and they're gorgeous. They are subdivided into two categories, one being new New York and the other being the beginning of the old New York. They're shot in black and white (of course) and while colour photography was not up to date at that point, I couldn't imagine the shots being immersed into colour. The black and the white are so fundamental to portraying the heaviness to the slightest sway in these photographs. This book really helped me sort through my thoughts on when colour/black and white photography is most appropriate. I highly recommend to anyone..
7.
Museum of Modern Art. I don't think there's too much I have to explain here. But being able to immerse myself with the heroes from my Survey of Art History books would just be beautiful and could not come any sooner. If I could have it my way, I would pick up a daily shift at the museum as an archive filer by day and by night run home to pull out all my paints and make work until classes started the next day. :)
8.
Grand Central Station. I just love this combination. Griffin Dunne, whom is the lead from Martin Scorsese's film After Hours, which is also a delightful New York-inspired film (that I highly recommend) and one of the most romantic spots in the city. Maybe that is an overstatement, but I have heard stories about the archway he describes, and to me, it feels like one of those really subtle, really personal and intimate connections that two people share privately while being in one of the busiest spots in the city, sharing it with the other eight and a half million people who use it for travel. I guess I'm romanticizing the idea of using the corners of a room, which is already symbolically a quiet space as a way of communication and while being twenty/thirty feet apart still only hearing your partners voice over everybody else's in the station.
9.
Housing Works Bookstore Cafe. Maybe it is that inner pseudo-intellectual-wannabe in me but this is all I want to do on the weekends. I'll probably end up paying half their monthly rent, but that'll be alright. We talked about cognitive development in my psychology class and apparently I am in my peak of cognitive development since I am in my early twenties, so I think that will give me more reason spoil myself with some more Kierkegaard and Kafka.
Please. Please, please. Do not cut out Robert Mapplethorpe's photograph works out of my library book, unknown critic. That says a lot to me as a viewer and shows an uncomfortable, homophobic uncertainty some of the population is still under, unfortunately. They are people, they have bodies, they use them. Get over it, people.
I'm interested, however, if it works in almost in a successful manner. Almost in a Marcel Duchamp-esque manner, it shows an obvious reaction from the viewer, and in return teaches the viewer something about themselves (which in my opinion, really makes art great). A few months back, I read Patti Smith's Just Kids book (which for those who haven't read it, must) and Ms. Smith included the majority of her relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe in it, including the intriguing beginning of his career. Upon discussing his work, he said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "No one's ever done it before (in portraying homosexual S&M a documented art) and at some point somebody has to."
I guess it is just going to be one of social taboos people will take their good and long time to try to readjust to, unfortunately.
In an implausible amount of time, I have fallen into this deep gulf of emotion, thought, and in and out of this now-and-then inspiration and back out of it. I've been really busy working two jobs currently, at the restaurant and recently at an art gallery. it seems unfortunately as of late, my mind has fallen short of creative works and focusing too much on the ever-demanding status of the high-and-mighty dollar. and when you tear it apart, its a tragic exchange.
So, while I nurse my lethargic need to create, I started watching a new television series. I finished watching season 4 and 5 of Dexter a while ago and as of one of my guilty pleasures, I really enjoy having a television series to watch and, sometimes, learn from. I got really into Michael C. Hall while watching Dexter and thought Damn, why isn't there more of Michael C. Hall in Hollywood? after browsing his IMDb page. I came across a another show he was in previously, called Six Feet Under. Not only was it produced by my beloved HBO, but it was written and created by Alan Ball.
(American Beauty is my all-time favourite film and is written by the very talented Mr. Ball.)
Stunned by my good luck, I tuned in. After the first episode, I was super hooked. The characters are so accessible and it feels almost natural to relate to all of them in one way or another. Tragic, yet humbly
beautiful, it is a deeply haunting experience.
(so, why's this important?)
Like I've said previously, I've been thinking and feeling a lot, even though I visually haven't been producing it lately. I saw one of my good friends today and had coffee and conversation with him. We talked about a lot of different topics, ranging from Nietzsche's contribution with Thus Spoke Zarathustra to artistic plans. We also discussed separation from mind and body, loosely connected on the topic of religion and ethics. It's something I have been thinking about for a while now, as I have been questioning my own religious/spiritual ideals after my grandmother's blunt, "where do you think you are going to go after you die?" inquiry in the middle of our salads at the East Bremer Diner a few weeks back.
I was raised a straight-apple Christian when I was growing up, but have since left the church. I'm not sure if religion is the answer I am looking for.
"I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. there is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers, that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark."
-Stephen Hawking
In regards to that statement, I feel it has elements I find very realistic and true, but I feel Hawking is not giving credit to any possibility to the existence of the 'soul'. (I mean by that, an ambiguous meaning. It does not necessarily fall directly under >RELIGIOUS ATTRIBUTES<) I'm only in season two of Six Feet Under so far, but already it has moved me in ways I wasn't necessarily prepared for. For instance, one of the main characters in the series, Nate, develops a disease (would you call it that? I apologize if that is incorrect) called arteriovenous malformation (AVM). A while later, he says to his lover, Brenda, "all that lives, lives forever. only the shell, the perishable passes away. the spirit is without end. eternal. deathless.", which I feel is probably the closest paraphrasing of how I really feel about life after death. It really kind of borders on Buddhist equilivilants of rebirth and the spirit acting as a stream of conscious connecting life with other life.
Brenda, Nate's lover in the series, also said balanced this belief with, "people live through the people they love and the things they do with their lives...if they manage to do things with their lives..."
Like I said before, I have learned a lot from the series already. sometimes deep, challenging, yet mature thoughts to reconsider and put into a practice of some sort. As sappy as this may sound, it also has taught me a lot on mortality and brought a whole new focus of the subject to my conscious. I recently read in a research book by Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, that perhaps by the way our modern society handles the topics of death and dying people, we are the way we are because of it. She continues with examples from past societies welcoming their dying friends and family into their home, often witnessing the act of them dying, and continuing by actually handling their body and taking the intuitive for burial themselves. Another researcher, Sherwin Nuland, says, "we have created a method of modern dying. modern dying takes place in the modern hospital, where it can be hidden, cleansed of its organic blight, and finally packaged for modern burial." in this case, to me, it feels like we're robbed ourselves of that opportunity to see death as it truly is, as a natural culmination of life. For that reason, it remains an unwanted mystery and often frightening fear.
Because of my recent interactions with the series, followed by new and curious thoughts, and paired with a new creative surge, I have really felt this new tranquility with life, particularly, with the unknown. I feel like that old tried-and-true saying is not as cliche as I thought it was; whatwith "opportunities come to you when you're not expecting them, but are ready." Just as Alan Ball has said himself, "Life tests us in a lot of ways, and when we look back at the painful parts of our lives, yeah, they were painful, but they forced us to grow. The good times don't necessarily force us to grow." <3
i've been thinking about identity so much lately. without running the risk of sounding like one of those cliché hopeless, teenage blogs, what is identity? or reputation? reputation seems like a mystery to me. like the lightweight trail you leave behind with every face you meet and greet. there's no way a reputation is real.
"i have a reputation to protect," she said.
its like a ghostly aftertaste people are left to dwell on and construct a mental projection of who the real you is. and when you really tear that concept apart, you really are openly giving up your right to make decisions and act upon impulse, because you have chained yourself to ever-developing and changing spoken word of the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
as some of you know, i went to the lovely city of boston about a month back, and certainly met all kinds of life there. like the university i attend here in iowa, there were people i met who strongly clung to the lifeline of stereotyping, or labeling other people to shelf them away in an "understanding". its not their fault in some ways. we're human. we all judge, its our nature in order to comphrend other surroundings.
"some people do arts and crafts; we judge.."- stanford blatch, sex & the city.
the thing that really got to me though, was the compulsive attitude towards labeling things into shelves of fads and dismissing them immediately, with a lack of interest to pursue a further look into said things or people. the fad i heard most being tossed back and forth was the independent, counter-culture progression of "hipster".
"urban outfitters is the most fucking hipster hideout." "oh, look at those cool fucking hipsters." "oh, how fucking hipster of you."
so, i stood hand-in-hand with urban outfitters bag, feeling sheer guilt for momentary reflection. i should have said something to these guys, but i didn't. it wasn't important. besides, no body wants one of those overly political artisté college girls giving them her unwanted two-cents on thinking, anyway. save it for freud.
the thing i didn't, and don't get still, is why do these human beings (and others, not trying to section these gentlemen out) think of themselves above these "hipsters"? i looked up the term "hipster" when i got home and came across a definition of it that basically called it out as a movement of thought and fashion with an emphasis on independent identity. what struck a strange chord with me was, isn't that what every fad is about? its always just that. to be original, to be fresh, to be inspiring, to be delightful..pleasurable..i guess what i am getting at is labeling is more-or-less useless, since we have discovered reputation is a myth and fads are just recycled thoughts that have been center-stage for decades now.
i've been at a lot more peace with myself upon mulling this over.
Seriously, Gian Lorenzo Bernini must be one of my all time favourite sculptors. Eehhh..Ectasy of Saint Teresa has me on pins and needles every time I look at it. It's so overwelming gorgeous and emotional. Above is an excerpt from one of his sculptures. And this is made of marble. As in cold, solid rock marble. And somehow he managed to capture the sensuality and aestical feel/look of skin. mmm. in many ways, I think he was overlooked by Michelangelo, and I don't know if that's the correct order of things..
Oh. and definitely watch this..>< (Sorry it's so small..)
Simon Schama= <3
i've been feeling very inspired by everything lately. I'm almost out of school (just a little over a month and half left..) and have really enjoyed these last two semesters. art is so good. In addition art I've been making in class, I've been working on a linoleum blockprint (which is pretty rad, cuz I haven't done one of those deals since high school) for the annual juried student show. It's turning out pretty good, I'll have to get a decent pic to post here at some point..
Also, I've been volunteering in the gallery at UNI now three days a week and I love it. Emphasis on the italicized love. It just feels right. What doesn't feel right is I'm almost through with my winter sketchbook. I'll have to post pictures of some favie pages..><
I've been getting up pretty early every day, weekends included for no specific reason. I like listening to music like Iron & Wine and painting. And writing. Oh, writing. Just recently I started back into my poetry. I think blogging was a synthetic attempt at filling in that blank spot for who knows how long. And sunrises. I really like those too.
these are all portrait excerpts taken during the MoMA's exhibit of performance artist "Marina Abramović: The Artist Is Present"(all photos by marco aneli). i just think these are a stunning collection of people.especially the last girl. her eyes have softened, and it's not just an emotional, mental state for her, obviously. with her lips agape, you can practically feel her sinking back in her seat in amazement. and she's in this like total trance of surprise. it's so geniune of a human being, and i think we forget sometimes how to be vulnerable in this new day and age...
man, oh man. i just got back from going to another one of those lovely artistic lectures i attend religiously. a UNI alumnus, Mikel Bisbee- Durlam gave this one, and i think it's very fair to say this was the best one i have been to yet.
i've been going through a slight identity confusion lately (i suppose you could identify it as that). just been very unsure of my art, and my life as a general whole. it's probably fair to assume that it would be a kind side-effect of some good ol' seasonal affective disorder, but it's unnecessary at this point to label it and shelve it away before picking it apart..as some of you may know, i have been keeping a sketchbook since the day it started snowing here in Iowa this last year (November 30 to be precise) where i have been making myself create at least something on a page every day until every speck of snow is gone and the world is resuming where it last was. it's kind of a voyage for that matter. a little adventure out into the world. anyway, as it's probably safe to assume, i struggled badly at the beginning of the year, as i would presume a majority of new art majors could testify to. i had that really hard struggle, probably just the agreement of 'letting go' and not feeling that strong detestment against it and being unsure because it wasn't 'conventionally beautiful' like most of the skills i had acquired throughout high school.
anyway, so, this morning i attended this lecture, and this guy was so cued in with what i needed to hear and be reassured with. it was wonderful. he began his talk with that he studied painting primarily (as am i) and how his work changed from studio to something out of it and beyond. he mentioned his interest in capturing human tragedy and working with it, which i think on a subconscious level, i am too. the thing that may have moved me the most in this very sincere talk, was this uncertainty of what we are attracted to as artists and what it is, and the ability to not be able to define or reiterate, but not fight it. for instance, he noted that when he was younger he went to a funeral, and instead of being in tune directly with the person whom had died and being caught up in the obvious pain, he was interested in the symbolism of of this girl he had feelings for's hair blowing in the wind. there's something so overwhelming beautiful and melancholy about that image.
"I love moments like that were you feel something and don't know and feel weird but i love art that does that too. there's too much emphasis on the viewer, and how he is supposed to be interested in the artist. the artist should try to get to them without putting it out a too obvious statement and give it all away."
-mikel bisbee-durlam.
this reminds me a lot of this scene from the movie american beauty, which i'm sure most of you may know is undeniably my favourite..i've always been able to really strongly identity with a major character in it, ricky. without giving too much away, he almost has this need to capture every moment on his life on tape, as a way of remembering, or going back to reevaluate it all. i guess in a way i strongly feel that way with my art. i've asked my roommate many times, "do you ever feel as though it's inconvenient to be inspired by everything?" which she laughs at but sincerely agrees. i have clutters of miscellaneous papers, plastics, scraps, etc because there's something i'm extremely drawn to but not sure what it is yet. and i can't throw it away cuz i know if i do, i will regret it almost instantly...
and on that note, mikel bisbee-durlam really tried to push home with a room full of young artists is just that. you don't have to know it all. you don't have to have it all figured out. just let it go. it's all intuition anyway, so just let it be pure.
"trust whatever the hell you're making. [...] i do whatever i have to, like "i want to do some landscape drawing! so i do that and see what would look good there. trust the process and let it go. [...] it's like waking up from a crazy dream and going, "what was that? i don't get it, it was too weird..and going to the psychiatrist or looking up Jungian dream symbolism and going, "ahh..that was it.." i feel like i do my own psych work in my art."
and that my friends, i suppose is life as well. just let it go. trust it, but let it just go..
I absolutely adore the television series, Frasier. It's by far my absolute favourite. I'll blog about it forever at another point of time, friends.. Oh, and I definitely am in love with David Hyde Pierce. Whatta doll.
there are a few things i have come to learn about happiness over the last year. one, formost being it is unchartable. it varies from individual to individual, like most emotions and outcomes. it is often a reaction to something bigger, something greater, or commonly a form of contentment, based on our own personal mantras, past events, narratives, and/or subconscious whereabouts. for this matter, we are capable of having these moments in life where everything seems to stand still for just a glimpse of a second, and it all sets it and makes sense. i think natalie portman in garden state said it best with, "i'm looking at you right now and you're definitely in it." to her co-star zach braff when they both settle next to each other in the bathtub in his old house as he discusses his ultimate regret with his late mother. obviously, emotion is a major trigger to these kinds of moments. so, now i arise the question: is happiness more of a verb or a noun?
i suppose the key to keeping these moments in a close range is to recognize these come in exactly what i defined above: short bursts of real, raw feeling. these don't last hours, or days. as someone once said, "we remember the minutes of the hours, and not the days of the years." and much as we would love to hold onto those 'perfect days' and put them in our pocket for a-not-so-sunny-day, it is impossible. there are 1440 minutes in a day, and if each one was held at the same importance as the others, these moments would lose the exact reason why they were so special. they are compressed, unexpected, and blessed. perhaps for this reason, the best things in life come to us in these brief, yet extremely self-revealing moments. we learn in these moments what exactly makes us tick, makes us feel actually alive as individuals. depending on the context of the situation and setting at the time, we may also begin to see being alone is okay. we are born into this world naked, alone, and beginning the embarkment of an adventure we would ultimately experience only through our own skin and own opinions. there is nothing unnatural, or scary, about it. if you let it, it can be the most soothing and healing outlet you can supply yourself with.
on this note, you must realize while people are wonderful and love is grand, the only thing you have in life is yourself, so take care of yourself. since you're an individual, start looking for these little things in life that supply you with more merriment and contentment than the obvious, materialistic supplements, such as the daily latté to help you get through another boring day of work meetings, the devil's food double-chocolate cake you immediately turned to after a tiff with your boyfriend, or even the christian louboutin french heels you've always desired more than anything after you saw that rerun of "sex and the city" on tbs one late thursday night and SJP was just strutting the hell out of them. you do not nesscarily have to close off what generally makes you happy though, if espresso or couture does it for you, embrace it. but also expand and unfold the old, traditional meaning of happiness as well. begin looking closer at smaller details of common day-to-day events or people. once you open your mind and begin to let more come to the surface, you will come to realize, it gets much more easier with time and more rewarding.
above, i submitted a still from the very end of one of my favourite films, lost in translation. that film, for me, embraces the idea of "moments" in a dry, quirky yet refined 104 minute presentation. it all really is a journey, and even though it is commonly misunderstood, the journey is a thousand times more important than the destination.perhaps enclosing yourself around people who have a similiar mindset and are aware of not just their, but your feelings as well, and sharing a few glasses of white wine alongside with greasy chinese take-out, you can begin to see more beauty in everyday life than you have been able to before. perhaps by finding a common factor between happiness and contentment, you will be able to heighten your intake of it all. so, on nights when everything has slowed, take yourself out into the dark night and walk the streets around you without the hope of unexpectedly running into a family of deer. walk slower, breathe deeply, and just listen. life is going on in and all around you, making us all that much more connected.
