Finally … Yummy Love!

I knew I was waiting to go to the Museum for a reason! will also be great to see my father after his recent health scare. I know he is back to his old self, joking and likely looking up the skirts of the nurses (do nurses wear skirts anymore, if not, they should and the little hats too … so very David Lychian). And … dad is on the mend as he threatens to again cut a rug at our “blowout” (my father’s name for picnics involving loads of hedonism). I am totally inspired to take my guitar and make my father do the dance of the 7 veils … or not.

Kim … you so inspired me last night to go for it and get another 4 inches off my hair! You looked adorable, truly. And thanks for watching my babies this weekend … and I hope the weekend is bat-less and Hortense isn’t my little Dickinsonian recluse!

Published in: on August 29, 2008 at 3:44 pm  Leave a Comment  

Jeff Koons in Chicago

I am terribly and wonderfully excited to be attending the Jeff Koons exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago very soon. Just as I love the readymades of Marcel DuChamp, I love Jeff Koons’ work. But these loves are on different levels. DuChamp gives me a feeling of emptiness and a sad emotion. My responses to DuChamp are very much clawing up from my gut whereas the work of Koons give me the odd feelings of utter light, a lightness of being, laying out color almost akin to the stark image on a television. Koons use of color is always the most amazing and sometimes startling moment in seeing his work. This trip to MCA in Chicago will be my first up close and personal relationship to his work. Up until now, I have only seen his work by diving into books, articles, and his website

Koons’ work is technicolor. Often seeing his workfeels like my first time even seeing color. His inflatables are veritable bombs of color, but so are his readymades. His newest work with Hoover vacuum cleaners intrigues me in so many varieties of ways — he manages to get an emotional reaction from me as a viewer with a carpet shampooer, even a deep fryer. His use of fluorescent lighting in these works give it this Montgomery Ward endcap display quality that is oddly and wholly comforting to a 21st Century American.

I am as excited as a bride on her wedding day about finally meeting Koons’ work face to face. I will post my post-exhibit comments here … of course.

Published in: on August 26, 2008 at 6:17 pm  Leave a Comment  

Dizzying Ghosts and Bedposts

Dorothea Tanning’s painting, Birthday has been a staunch favorite of mine for ages. Its cryptic claustrophobia and open-jawed imagery has not only captivated me for so long, but it always has a familiarity in me, to a feeling in me (others with such reverb for me would be Kahlo’s The Suicide of Dorothy Hale and Andrew Wyeth’s Wind from the Sea to name a few). This painting has left my mind in recent years but returned quickly today.

There may be only a tiny few side effects of anything that may result in a positive, but sometimes it happens. After missing many doses of something my body has unfortunately begun to deem necessary to function, my body feels it is no longer connected to me. My heart feels it is going to sprout wings and fire through my chest, my eyes ache, and hear a strange internal “boom” in my ears. Can something so small I slug with the nearest available liquid be so powerful?

Today, in this odd little stupor, I “saw” this woman in the Tanning painting. I “saw” the little bat-like creature in the painting. Both came to me in odd flashes when I shut my eyes in the hopes of resting them to stop the ache in them (they feel like pimples being forcibly popped by anxious pubescent, pre-prom fingertips). It took all day for me to realize the origins of these images and then I remembered this painting and it became clear.

Once someone said something to me about medication and about how medication causing one to slip away. I have not felt this entirely until today. But now I feel I am slipping, that everything around me is simply that — around me. I have had the most wonderful last few months of feeling so good, finding the things I thought may have been obsolete in someone.

Why would this have to happen now to me?

Last week, a small brown bat made its way into my bedroom. My bedroom has become what a kitchen is for many people … a place for repairing the day’s soul, replacing the tatters of one’s soul flag with some kind of nourishment. My “Bedpost” series of artwork will be exhibited in September in the library where I work no less. These are works I have created in my bed, among my bedposts. These are works that also somehow revolve around my bed — relationships, depression, insomnia, and joyous rejuvenations — all taking place in my bed among my bedposts. It is the bed of my childhood, the bed of so many jokes about its small frame and dated appearance. A lot, it seems, like my mind sometimes. All of our minds. But I always talk about the things of my mind I shouldn’t. Even now, why do I write all of this? What am I hoping to really accomplish? No as much isolation for one I think.

This bat terrorified me and now his little ghost terrifies me. Am I just hearing him? Has he returned? Why does he scare me more than the real ghosts who have come to me? I guess because this bat is not my family?

This painting is everything to me right now. It has come to me and will help me complete my final pieces for my exhibit that has been at a standstill since about March.

I just hope I stay together and that the man of obsolete characteristics stays with me like the doors in all of my dreams, all leading me away from frightful birthdays.

Published in: on August 12, 2008 at 11:31 pm  Comments (1)