Think Kit Day 22: Art

Think Kit topic day 22:  Plan, outline, or mind-map a project you want to tackle in 2014. 

I tried to use an online mindmapping tool to do this Think Kit topic, got really ticked off and said "screw it! I'm using a life line." And I am soooooo glad I did!

Smallbox LIFELINE: Was there an art experience that stood out this year? What did it look/feel/sound like? What other reactions did you notice?

For this to make sense, I need to give some background. I have no artistic ability whatsoever. I can't draw or paint or anything that most people consider "art"- no throwing pottery or sketching.

I love art, though. I think the thing I remember most of about junior high was the entire 9 weeks we spend on art history in our art class. I got an A; it was the only A I earned in art on my own or that wasn't given in pity 9or because of cheating- but that's a whole other blog post!) The rest of the class was bored out of their collective minds and I think my teacher was too because I distinctly remember his monotone. Every day we would come to class and he would dim the lights and show a slide after another after another. We had to write down the artist's name, time period he was alive, type of art style and medium used, influences, country of origin and the name of a famous piece of art she created. We also had to draw or in some way describe the art. I was mesmerized. I copied every bit of information eagerly and I could describe each painting in WORDS. I still remember tons of that information today.

My teen girl bedroom walls were dotted with several Degas ballerina posters after that.

Fast forward to the year I was able to work in my Master's degree (that I still do not have). It was taking liberal arts courses and one class was about folk art, which I had no idea was an art form. And part of that was the class, too- is folk art actually 'art'? I became completely enamored in the idea  of folk art, which is often considered women's art so it's not really art, especially that of quilting. I wrote an entire thesis on this topic, complete with a 30 minute presentation of my paper.

When I moved into my first post-divorce/ post CanadaSam house, I hung Impressionist prints on my walls and a huge Georgia O'Keeffe because I liked the colors. I had Impressionist after Impressionist calendars on office walls, or printed Monet on a mousepad or van Gogh post-it notes or Renoir note cards.

If I had just had scads of loose money laying about, I'd go back to college to get a BA in art history because I love the knowledge of art.

Obviously, I have a thing about art. And I swear if you keep meandering along with me here, I'll get to how this relates to 2013... but hey, this whole think kit thing is about introspection and self -reflection so... *ahem* but I digress.

In 2006 I went to the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC. It was the first time I've gone to an art museum as an adult. (the summer I spend in NYC after high school graduation didn't count at me going as an 'adult' even though I was 18. I didn't appreciate the experience at the time; I was just having a great time In the Big Apple- what did I know?) It was in February but unseasonably warm that time of year. I went alone. Long story as to why I was even in the city but I was. I had a day to myself and thought I's visit some museums- gee, such a novel approach when visiting the capital of our country, right?

I wandered around. I was awestruck the moment I walked in the door. I just sort of roamed room to room, my mouth agape. I would see a painting and think, "Is that real?" or "That's FAMOUS!" which seems really silly.  Then I came to the Impressionist wing.

I was breathless. I was speechless. I was numb and practically immobile. Because there, just mere inches from my fingertips were famous paintings I'd been fascinated with my whole life.RIGHT THERE! Actually PAINTED and TOUCHED and CREATED by van Gogh and Rembrandt and Degas and Renoir and Monet and all the rest. IN THE SAME ROOM. WITH ME! I couldn't help it. I cried. And not touching little, quaint tears, but sobbed and snotted. I had 2 guards ask me if I was okay and I'm trying to explain the overwhelming beauty to them, right there, in front of me. Me, just a small town girl from the Midwest in the same room with famous paintings that has survived wars and centuries and... well, at least they didn't kick me out of the museum but I think they were more worried about me than your average tourist. I was shaking and crying in awe over the beauty of it all, right there, for anyone to look at. I didn't have to be rich or famous or special. All I had to have was the curiosity to look. That was all. I was as equal as the millionaire or the homeless man and we could all look at the exact same painting of Monet's The Japanese Footbridge no matter who we were. I just can't seem to describe it to this day. It seems silly, I'm sure, but I was so overcome with the beauty of what I was seeing and all the reality and realness and who I was, the place and time... not many years after our nation mourned, and I was there. I still don't have words.

Now go to this year, to 2013. I discovered the IMA, or the Indianapolis Museum of Art. It's free to visit (except for the traveling special exhibits) and I'm broke so it started as a once rainy afternoon activity. Then it became a habit and a favorite haunt in the city.

First time I went, I roamed around, much like I did when I was at the NGA in DC. Then I came to the impressionist room and again, I was overcome with emotion. Again, Renior and Degas and van Gogh. This time in Indianapolis. In the Midwest. Again these artists who shaped my love of art, of the classics. I walked quietly through the gallery, tears rolling (this time no snot or scared guards) as I was overcome again with such beauty offered to one and all, equality for the curious, for the seeker.

IMA because my haunt this year since I spent a great deal of time in Indy. I found I would go several times a month, walk around and then save the Impressionists and European artists for last. I'd walk through, practically holding my breath, find a bench in front of of my favorite painting, Monet's Charring Cross Bridge, right beside a Degas sculpture. I'd sit there and stare at the works in front of me and daydream or think. Sometimes I'd write letters to friends. Once in awhile I'd read. I just wanted to "be" with the art. Make sure it was still there. Let it know I cared.

Maggie

(and I did have my own encounter with canvas and wine in 2013... but that's a post for later, too!)

Making Christmas cards

For art club this week- on Wednesday, the kids and I are going to make Christmas cards. Here are three samples. I was inspired by Achiever's, with all their make and take freebies, and their card workshops. So I came up with these three ideas and we made these examples.

Then last night I cut all the paper to the correct size after shopping for all the supplies. Daddy-O cut out the shiny trees, the snow flakes and the J-O-Y letters on his Cricut. Then on Wednesday night the kids will rotate in stations and make these cards.

I'm pretty proud of it how they came out! I hope the kids' are as happy with theirs as I am mine- I'll show their pix, too!

New bulletin board

Here's the new bulletin board I've made for our school library. I know it's for high school students but they still need some color and some fun!

And for every kid who passes an AR Test this month, they get a mini "bit-o-honey" candy!

Book lovin' nerd,
Mags

It sounds so Nancy Drew: "The Mystery of the Refrigerator Art"

A few weeks ago I was fussing around on my blog and was going to write a post. I got interrupted so I wrote myself the words "refrigerator art" in the blog body and thought that would tip me off when I had time to go back and write the post. I saved it as a draft and went on my merry way. Now I have time. I'm back. And I have NO idea what I was going to write about at all.

Right now the words "refrigerator art" have no meaning to me whatsoever. I've read my blog posts a few days before and after the date I saved it to see if there was something that triggered that thought process. I hit a few of my fav blogs and re-read their posts around that same time. Nothing. I have no idea what my intent was. I can't even find anything about "art" or "refrigerators" to see if I was using some fun, little play on words.

I thought I could challenge myself and come up with something anyway, about refrigerators or art. Ummmmmmm, well..... okay. Let's just say I've kicked it around for a few days and if I was a student and this was my writing prompt I would be in big, frickin' trouble.

I even went to look at Daddy-O's refrigerator to see if there was something there. We have a collection of weird magnets advertising businesses or places people have gone on vacation and brought back a magnet, like a guitar stamped with Graceland. There's also a magnet of Marilyn Monroe. Apart from the magnet art, there's an assortment of take-out menus, Mac's school calendar for the rest of the school year, some expired coupons, a couple of note pads, and a bag that held veggies but is there as a reminder to me to get that same kind next time I go. There's a beer bottle opener, too. And there's a couple of photographs of family friends. Nothing that looks like art. No pictures drawn and hung up. No all A report cards. Just a bunch of junk that does NOT resemble art. Unless you would consider it modern art. I don't.

Because I'm anal retentive like that I looked at ITSam's fridge, hunting for inspiration and all that's there is a strip of pictures he and I had taken at a photo booth in the mall. Nothing else.

Wonder if Van Gogh or Picasso's moms put their artwork on the fridge?

I have three pictures that Princess made for me in her advanced art class and those are hanging up in my library, not on a fridge but on a file cabinet. She also has work on display in a local art show here in town. But I don't think either of these is the idea I had.

Anyway, so the mystery of "refrigerator art" remains. I still have no idea what I was going to write about, even after all the investigation.

Some mysteries are never solved.

Maggie

Stop the world; I'm getting off...

Maggie + Teaching=

Art work

Boys will be boys and since Mac and his his friends are all boys, they do boy things. Like draw penises on each other's automobile dust. I cannot understand it; I can just relay this story. I also want to point out that Buddy 1 and Buddy 2 have their own cars, and Mac's car is mine, so I have to do a walk around the Malibu to make sure it's not the penis-mobile.

Mac and his friend Buddy1 love to irritate Buddy2 by drawing a penis on Buddy 2's car. The reason they LOVE to do it is because Buddy 2 acts like a baby and gets mad and is childish, making threats at them. If Buddy 2 would've just shut up and wiped the "art" (okay porn) off the car, Mac and Buddy 1 would've tired of it. Because Buddy 2 was totally incensed by them and made a huge 'issue' they kept on doing it. Because boys will be boys.............

However, yesterday, Buddy 2 crossed. the. line.

Buddy 2 keyed my car. There are several scratches on the driver's side. He also keyed a picture of a penis on. the. side. of. my. car. It is a small penis (hmmmmm, art imitates life.....?), about an inch long, but a penis nonetheless. Carved into the side of my car.

As a matter of fact, it's a very poor rendering of a penis. If you all looked at it, you could see "ah yeah, that's a penis". But if I hadn't told you what it was, you might not totally come to that conclusion. I will not even speculate about other things this "art work" would be.

Mac came home from school to tell me. I have to admit, while I was pissed about it, I wasn't stark raving mad nor was I yelling.

I called the school and told the principal the deal. I also understand this is not the fault of the school because they can't police 400 kids, their cars, the buses and such. I get that. I just thought it was inappropriate that it happened at all, and since it happened while MY car was parked in the school parking lot, they may want to address it. The Principal was really cool about it and said she will certainly take care of the situation, and she wants to know what happens after I talk to Buddy 2's parents. I don't want to be a complete bitch, but I did let the principal know that Buddy 2 sent Mac two text messages apologizing and offering to pay for the damages, but if he doesn't come through after I talk to his folks, I'll report it to the police for vandalism or destruction of property. She thought that was a good idea. I also suggested that while she dealt with Buddy 2 an art class or an anatomy class would be in order. She laughed; a principal with a sense of humor!

I spoke with my insurance agent who said if Buddy 2's family wouldn't pay, I could go through him and we would need to file a police report.

And Buddy 2 did send Mac 2 texts, offering to pay for the damage plus an extra 20% in cash to show an apology, and he did apologize. (Of course I won't take the 20% extra. I don't think, anyway.)

Then, of course, I had to call Buddy 2's parents. I couldn't just take the kid's word that he would pay for it since he drew a fricking penis on my car to begin with, and since I talked to the school, I'm sure his folks were going to hear about it anyway! And at the time of this blog post's publication, his parents have declined to comment. Actually, I left his mother a message on her answering machine and haven't heard back. Mac said he bet Buddy 2 erased it. So after school today I'll call his dad. I am NOT looking forward to THAT conversation.

Did I mention I hate doing stuff like this? This is so dumb. The entire time my brother and I were teenagers, my mommy and daddy were never called by parents to rat us out for doing stupid shit, nor did they have to call other parents to handle situations that involved other kids. Because we didn't DO stupid crap like this!! OMG- it's ri'dic'ulous.

The other sad thing... the poorly carved picture of the penis is as close to one as I've been for a year. Does this mean my car got laid?

Maggie

My finished Mug

Remember when I told ya'll that Hecate and I painted pottery? Well, here's the finished product! I was pretty pleased with my efforts and the bottom line was that she and I had a great time!





And if you can't read the whole thing, it says, "With a cup of coffee and the right shoes, I could be queen!"

The artful dodger,
Maggie

Picasso I ain't!

Yesterday Hecate and I met in Northern Civilization to hang out. We met early and left early because of the HUGE winter storm that was headed our way.

After I arrived 25 minutes late because I overslept like the dumbass I can sometimes be, we dined at Arbys and got caught up on the usual stuff. (I had to tell her about a former Sam of mine who wanted a date but then proceed to tell me about having to come up with an excuse (LIE!) to feed his fiancee... OMG! WTF! WAJ! [What A Jerk!]) Then we headed out to paint pottery.

I have zero artistic ability. I can barely draw stick figures. I have no talent when it comes to painting or drawing or sketching or knitting or crocheting or anything artsy or crafty. I love art history and I love to look at art, but to create it... well, for me, it's not my strong point. All that being said, I had a great time.

After getting slightly lost on the way to the studio, we finally arrived. We were the only ones in the brightly painted shop, other than the owner, which was good since I asked lots of questions and we moved about a lot to get supplies and stuff. We browsed the bisque pieces and each selected a coffee mug to paint, ironically. We also selected the SAME piece to paint, double irony.

We got our paints and brushes. I sort of had a vision of what I wanted it to look like- something to do with coffee, pink and shoes. But when one has no artistic ability, one needs to describe her vision to someone who can do more than straight lines and produce the desired art on said coffee mug. ie: The woman who owned the place drew a shoe on my mug for me.

Hecate and I sat and painted in contented silence. I think she was amazed that I could be quiet for so long. The radio was on to music I liked and we chatted and listened to music and painted. It was a quite a fun time, at least for me. My mug looked like... I tried, while Hecate's, on the other hand, looked beautiful with her Chinese symbol and lettering. It turned out great and nice and neat and professional looking, completely unlike mine...

And in one week we can go back and pick up our "creations" after they are fired in the kiln. And I promise to show pictures here next week when we get them back.

I love doing stuff like this, even though I have no art ability. And lemme be the first to tell you, I don't try and pretend to have art ability either. (I'm also not one of those people who say they have no art ability and then can draw a complete replica of the Sistine Chapel and be all modest. I really can't do ART!). Several years ago when Mac was just little and I was dating Canadian Sam we painted at a similar type of place and it just stressed to out because mine always looked awful compared to everyone else's work. this time it didn't matter, as long as I had fun doing it- and I did. Don't sweat the small stuff and this was small. Important, but small. And fun, which is all that matters!

It seems that all my friends and family have some artsy ability, or crafty ability, whereas I'm lacking. I like to try and I have fun. I do like to mess around and scrapbook, which is crafty but I will never make a page that will be featured in a magazine. I just like to give it a whirl and if I'm please with the results, then I keep trying. If I frustrate myself into NOT having FUN, then I stop. I don't give up, but I realize this is something I'm trying as a hobby or for fun and if it's not FUN, and not a life requirement, then I'm just not gonna do it. Life is made up of too many things we MUST do that aren't really all that fun so why add on more?

So, painting pottery scores high on the fun list. And I can't wait to go back and make a saucer to match my mug... or paint one of those cute frog statues... can I have a pink frog?

No stadingstill life,
Maggie