Processing

Process 6, by Casey Reas

I'm currently taking a digital imaging class, and we're working with a program called Processing. Has anyone ever worked with it? It's a program that essentially allows an artist to create digital work through the use of code. Images can be static, but the most interesting ones, in my opinion, are the ones that are interactive and full of movement.

So far, I have successfully made some rectangles and circles. And even some weird triangle things. Impressive, I know.

I have a long way to go before I can contend with Casey Reas' work. But I figure that's to be expected, since he is one of the creators of the program.

 Network A, a.k.a. Process 4 (Installation 2), by Casey Reas

Network A [1] from Casey REAS on Vimeo.

His work is really incredible, and I encourage you to poke around his site a bit and see what he's been able to create. I've never been particularly interested in digital images as fine art, but Reas has changed my mind significantly.

Unfortunately for me, this kind of programming requires a level of skill in math that I don't fully have a handle on. I left most of my knowledge about cosines and radians back in my highschool classroom. It would almost be worth cracking open the books again if it meant I could make things like this. Almost.

Also of interest: Rafael Rozendaal's interactive websites. I'm not sure what program (if any) he uses to create them, but they are addicting little bits of awesome. Have fun playing!

Special thanks to Casey Raes for his permission to post images.

Decompression

One of the good things about working in Oakland is my proximity to the Carnegie Museum. I usually remember it when I'm feeling bombarded--and it has never failed to be a sanctuary, even on the toughest of days. When I feel disordered and disheveled and stretched to my limit, the museum provides a space for me to breathe in again. It is ordered and clean and quiet, both cozy and spacious. 

On Friday, I wandered in for one of my lunch-break escapes. I sat on a leather couch in a purple gallery and read about James Abbott McNeill Whistler. I strolled through the blue-walled galleries that house their (familiar) permanent collection. I even ducked into the Natural History section and disappeared into the hall of minerals and gems.

Though I've been to the museum countless times, I always discover something new while I'm there. This time, I was surprised to find myself most attracted to abstract, black-white-and-greyscale paintings hanging in the more modern end of the permanent galleries. They felt expansive: free and open to interpretation.

Detail from Castile (España) by Robert Motherwell, 1952

Detail from Siegfried by Franz Kline, 1958

Detail from Painting, by Antoni Tápies, 1958

Which goes to show that even if the venue is the same, you can always see things with new eyes, every single time you go.

Girl Walk

If you ever wondered what the person in my head looks like when I listen to my iPod (of course you have!), then watch this video.

Girl Walk // All Day: Chapter 1 from Girl Walk // All Day on Vimeo.

Seriously, this is great stuff. Set to music from Girl Talk's All Day, Girl Walk // All Day follows a quirky dancing girl through New York as she courts a gentleman, avoids a creep, and makes every New Yorker fall in love with her--and with dancing.

The whole film is about an hour long, and can be watched in chapters on their website. It's a journey of urban exploration, free movement, and personal expression, and I'm loving every second of it.

Also, how great is their icon of her pastel-colored windbreaker? It makes my heart go pitter-pat.

Back to the office for me, but if you want to come dance with me on my lunch break, I'm game.

Houseplant Villages

I have become newly obsessed with the idea of turning all of my house plants into tiny villages for tiny, invisible people.

Cottage Town, designed by Ontwerpduo: Tineke Beunders and Nathan Wierink. Photos by Lisa Klappe.
Used with permission from the owner.

Bonsai-B, by Takanori Aiba

Little Blue Cabin Living Terrarium on Etsy, by bakerkristen

In fact, I already bought a tiny metal-cast soldier to hang out in my jade plant. Now all he needs is a castle to protect.

To Be a Poet and a Cabinet Maker

Excerpt from "What Rose Light as Breath," For Love of Common Words by Steve Scafidi

I met Steve Scafidi in my senior year of college. At the time, a friend and I were co-editors of our college literary magazine. We had arranged for four semi-local poets to come to campus for poetry readings and one-on-one workshops with creative writing students.

Luckily, of the four poets we invited, I was paired with Mr. Scafidi for my one-on-one. We sat at a cafe table, and he pulled out a copy of a poem I had written, which he had read before our meeting and had written all over in scribbly black pen.

When he is not a poet, Mr. Scafidi is a cabinetmaker. He owns a farm in West Virginia, which he shares with his wife Kathleen. When he sat down with me that day to talk about my poem, he apologized for the state of his hands. They were rough, and his nails were covered in brown, stained lacquer. He said the stuff was nearly impossible to scrub away. And before he said anything about what he had written about my poem, he asked me to read it aloud for him.

When people tell me that they "don't understand" poetry, I want to take them by the hands and lead them to a place where they can hear someone like Mr. Scafidi reading his own work aloud. Poetry was meant to be heard. Real, honest poetry is filled with breath.

We had a long talk that day, about language, images, and the things people feel between lines of poetry. I promised him that I would send him a copy of the finished poem, but I never rewrote it. The copy covered in his notes stays folded in eighths and tucked in my copy of For Love of Common Words.

I rarely write anything anymore, let alone poetry, but a secret part of me still dreams of someday being a poet and a cabinet maker, like Mr. Scafidi. To spend my time among wood and words, breathing in sawdust and listening--waiting--for the poems to speak.

((Barn photo by ~QwikDrah on deviantart, found via Pinterest.))

Creative Spaces

A clipping from my grandmother's jade plant, on the art room windowsill.

I've been thinking a lot lately about creative spaces.

My environment is very important to me. Where I live, where I work, where I cook...atmosphere is everything. It puts me at ease. But it definitely takes me a long time to settle in and make a place feel like my own. 

When I moved into my new apartment last August, I was so excited to have an extra room to devote exclusively to art related endeavors. I couldn't wait to roll up my sleeves and get to work, painting and cutting and pasting, without any worry of having to clean up after myself or take over the dining room table with my projects. But as the months rolled on, I slowly decorated the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom...leaving the art room untouched. I didn't want to work in it because it was a disorganized disaster. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't functional--every time I went in to try to work on something, all I could think about was what to hang on the walls. 

Yesterday, I finally decided it was time to give my art room a little TLC. I moved the furniture, hung some things on the wall, and finally attached my desk lamp to my make-shift work table. I put away piles of crap, and paper, and magazines--and suddenly, it felt like a place where I wouldn't mind spending time.

Blogs these days are just exploding with tours of creative spaces. (For instance, did you see Shipley & Halmos' workspace featured on The Fox is Black this week? Heavenly.) I love to see where people work. Sometimes, it's a chair and a table in a corner; sometimes, it's a two floor art studio suite. We all have our own idea of what a work space should be.

I used to think it was silly, that I had to create an environment to work in before I could create anything else. But it seems I'm not alone. Search for "offices" on pinterest--you will be disappointed that you do not have access to at least ten of the spaces you see, I guarantee.

What is it about these spaces that makes us want to roll up our sleeves and get down to business? Are you the type that could work in a cardboard box, as long as you had the right tools? Is your dining room table covered in paper scraps and glue?

I'm still not 100% happy with my apartment space, but every day it feels more and more like home. Like a haven away from the outside world. Having that kind of stability to return to every day makes me more likely to be able to sit down and create things not only for myself, but for other people. 

Hopefully I'll have some pictures up tomorrow of my new creative digs. In the meantime...where do you get your creative groove on?

Getaway

I have getaways on the brain. After yesterday's post about cabins, I've been dreaming about just getting away from it all for a little while. Even though I just had a winter staycation, I'd love to sneak off somewhere to catch some peace and quiet. 

Which is why, apparently, I have forts on the brain. They're calling for an ice storm tonight, friends that were supposed to come over for dinner are swapping plans for brunch tomorrow, and it looks like I have an evening home to look forward to.

I'm thinking it's a pillow fort kind of weekend. Who's with me?

Cabin Dreams

It's official.

I'm addicted to http://freecabinporn.com/.

But seriously, can you blame me?

There are people who dream of having huge houses in their adult lives. Houses filled with bathrooms and bedrooms and mudrooms and giant, sprawling kitchens teeming with gadgets. A television for every living space, a hot tub for every back yard deck. A home theater in the basement. A four car garage.

I dream of having cabins. 

Cabins spread across the country, maybe across the globe. Modern cabins built with clean lines and utility-knife kitchens. Rustic cabins with wood burning fire places and rough log walls. Cabins with views that stretch for miles, and cabins that nestle in trees and moss. Winter cabins and summer cabins and cabins for gathering honey and making jam.

 

I don't know how to gather honey or make jam, but I'm sure that if I had a bunch of cabins, it would be the perfect opportunity to teach myself. And I would write, write, write until my hand cramped up and my fingers were smeared with ink.
 
((Free Cabin Porn found via Portland Sunshine))

Melting Point

As a Christmas gift, I bought my little sister two spots at the Pittsburgh Glass Center's Make It Now event, which took place last Monday. She was off school, I was off work--it was a perfect setup. I've taken her to a Make It Now event before, where she made a glass bead and a paperweight. The bead was a huge hit, since she got to make most of it herself, so I made sure that she got to make two this time. I get to pick them up for her this weekend.

If you've never seen people blow glass in person, it's something you definitely need to do. The Glass Center studio is a super cool building, made of steel beams and concrete and giant windows. Just being there makes me want to roll up my sleeves and dig in. One more reason for me to get my own studio space up and running.

((mmmm a ferocious tumblr.))