Ode to the callous on my finger

Oh protector of softer flesh,
Self-grown armor
Roughness in contrast to silk elsewhere
You remind me of time,
Repetition and work
The work of hands, eyes and heart together.
Coils of buttery linoleum
Battleship gray
And knotty wood

I make
This world of my own
On paper and fabric
You are subjected to forces
Of my, not your, choosing
And are wrought in the
friction of my hair-on-fire
Or even the leaden striking
of my brain against graphite and paper
Hoping for a spark
Just a spark.

Introspection

I feel on fire, my brain incapable of quieting in the dark, my body exhausted. 

I feel trapped, hurtling towards a middle, but at the same time in forced repose; nothing 

more to prepare.

I feel relieved, dismayed I have wasted much vitamin B on stress.

I feel empty, critique is over, but I am inert, a body at rest. I should be busying.

I feel procrastinatory, reading with fervor in order to forget my upcoming-now-past 

critique.

Senior Intro

This super senior took three intro classes her final semester. Didn't realize that until today. Paradoxical? Ironic? Evidence of procrastination? Perhaps all three. But I don't regret it. 

I got to do ceramics, real ceramics, for the first time, with firings, glazing, throwing wheels and everything. I made at least one truly hideous mug, but I'm really proud of three of my mugs, with at least one bowl being pretty cool. None of my Six 6 inch cylinders reached 6 inches, of course, but their uneven amateurishness is somewhat charming. The process of glazing and then firing is truly fascinating, the transformation of a bisque fired and then dipped cup going through a final firing felt like Christmas.

I got to learn more about poetry, though I admit I'm much less in love with my words now than I was as a yearning and lonely teenager. Some of that poetry still stands out to me, though I understand if it doesn't appeal at all to anyone else. It was fantastic to submit my poetry to peer reviews, something I've not had access to before. I hope it has emerged better than before.

Finally, I got a formal and official introduction to rock climbing. I've been around rockclimbing as far back as I can remember. My dad and uncles used to climb up Logan canyon, and I remember accompanying them, though I don't remember ever getting harnessed and helmeted up myself, as a four-year-old.  My sister got into climbing from a class at Snow College, and between her and my good friend, I learned how to climb and belay during my own time at Snow College. It still took me forever to confront my fear of heights. I appreciated the formal atmosphere of a climbing class, it helped cement protocol such as Pull, Break, Under, Slide, and the initiating words of a climb into my mind. I feel more comfortable sportclimbing, falling, and being lowered down, though bouldering, ironically, is still my first love.

I think taking intro classes my last semester here at USU kept me in a state of beginner's mind this semester. Not a bad way to exit school.

Random mold find and subsequent existential crisis/realization

 I think it’s official. I might be a hoarder. 

I can’t throw anything away due to crippling climate anxiety and guilt (slight exaggeration, I throw away some things just fine). I hold onto the dumbest crap, both paper and plastic because ooooh I could make that into art! But ha, who the hell wants it and what’s to guarantee it won’t get thrown away eventually? Ugh.

My first artist residency and the creative process

The creative process is difficult to pin down and work into a routine for me. I spend most of my time floundering around, unsure of what to do or where to begin.

Working on my BFA thesis show this semester was difficult. It took me half the semester to hone in on what I wanted to do for my thesis, I started out way too broad and general. I was trying to tackle subject matter and imagery that didn't relate to my own experience as closely as I needed to hold my attention. I ended up lighting on the subject of habits and waste, though the imagery still isn't solid. I have managed a couple of prints I wouldn't mind showing in the Spring BFA exhibition.

I'm supposed to be making artwork over winter break, and I've arranged an artist residency in order to focus. My teachers told me to work on my drawing over the break. I've been doing that, but I also feel like I should be coming up with at least one print during my residency that I can put in the show. My problem is I can't think of any ideas. The one thing I was working on is a bust; badly composed, boring, not engaging in any way and not worth my time to carve and print.

I've been struggling with feeling like I'm doing enough during this residency, but I have to keep reminding myself that this is my very first and I will spend a lot of it figuring out how to focus and schedule myself. My creative process is still developing, probably will always be developing, and I need to allow myself space and time for that.

Print Final

I gained some revealing insight into how people perceive my silly art in my printmaking class final crit.
     My classmates told me my work is understated, approachable, always contains unexpected details.
     I'm not really the sort of person to want the limelight, I like being invisible, a background character. My favorite place to be is behind the scenes. I ask myself all the time why I chose to study art. My work isn't flashy, and sometimes contains a dry sense of humor. I'm terrified of becoming self-obsessed and absorbed. This, I feel is a deep problem in the upper-levels of the art world, and to some small extent, in the college art world. I imagine this translates to my work being understated, humble (maybe, although even writing that world makes me feel self-obsessed), honest and sincere.
     One of my classmates said my art equally reaches children and adults, without talking down to one or patronizing the other. My work for that particular class focused on the problem of plastic grocery bags, but everyone felt that I was being informative and encouraged without guilt tripping.
     In one of my designs, I included a little plastic bag hooked onto a edge, as if it had blown by and gotten caught like you will occasionally see in trees. Many of my classmates didn't notice this detail until our final critique. In my perspective, this also translates to the dumb little mistakes I always make in my work and which I've become resigned to. Missing a couple pieces in a background pattern here, forgetting to color that little bit there. It's infuriating and I know for a fact that I have missed on opportunities because of this personal defect, but I try to compare it to the tradition of making intentional mistakes in weaving.
     This critique was one of the most insightful I've had in a very long time, and I felt bad I didn't participate more when we were talking about all of my classmates work. It was definitely nice to know my artwork seems to represent what I want it to.

Fun in the Snow

Final for Intaglio Printmaking!

Final Project for Relief Print Making

Halfway mark

 Five hundred cranes folded and strung

        

Drawing 1

Sound of art cases

Snapping shut rising over 

Silence and music.

Shibori Quilt

Good to see finished. 

Excellence, vibrant color, 

Satiate mine own. 

Perspectives 1/2

A serie of twenty-two photographs taken on my iPhone. A challenge to myself while I was waiting for my ride: photograph as many obscure, unseen surfaces as I could think of. 

Cloths for indigo dying

I actually finished these a long time ago, but I got the opportunity to dye them this afternoon. I haven't dyed them yet, I'll put up a post afterward. The stitches on the undyed cloth are really visually interesting just on their own, they could almost be an art form in and of themselves. 

Video for Digital Media Class

Stillness and Space on Vimeo.

(Is it really a mineral? I have a feeling it isn't)

Rub the side of hand 

In graphite, dark mineral. 

Your skin marks paper 

Digital Media Fundamentals assignment

Latest comic

Rough sketches for Illustrator II Project

For Digital Media Fundamentals:

Never Stopped Me From Writing Before

I have gotten out of the habit of writing. I'm afraid I didn't manage to register for an English class this semester, so I haven't been doing much more than writing notes and jotting a few things down in my journal now and then.
I want to continue developing my writing. Art, what I am majoring in, is actually not my first passion. My first passion is Writing, and the skill that goes so well with it: Reading. I'm not even entirely sure why I'm majoring in art, I love it, but ever since I was in my early teens, I figured I would major in English.
At any rate, I love both Art and English almost equally, so I would like to change my major to a dual major in English and Art next semester. I've told this plan to just about everyone I've spoken to in the past couple of weeks.
I'd like to get back into the habit of writing again, in preparation for my change of major, and just because I want to continue to improve in articulation and skill. I love writing, I've always loved writing, so why stop practicing it in earnest just because I don't have any classes in it right now? That's never stopped me before. 

Embroidery on a linen shirt

Creatively embroidered to hide stains. (Mwahaha, I'msoclever)