Not much better than an agenda-less day spent in the park, and the garden, and the kitchen, and the studio and the bookstore. I have to admit that I've been avoiding contemporary art books for a while but in the safety of the bookstore cafe I pread and leafed through a newish book about Andrea Fraser's institutional critiques of the art world.
I spent some time reading and thinking about her performances and interventions and wondering if they have much effect outside of the world they critique. But they are smart and funny and still pertinent. it's all pretty new to me (Fraser's work that is) so I'm curious to hear other ideas about her work.
More Fraser is here:
May I help You
Fromthe New York Times and from her gallery about "Untitled"
and Jerry Saltz defending her as Super Theory Woman.
and more about Fraser from bilateral blog.

Much about Fraser's work is smart, much leaves me with questions, all of it seems worth thinking about more. So, yeah, I don't know what I think about it but I know I'm thinking about it.

In other news, arguably more important, the beets became beet bread, Mark kindly sent me horse pictures even on a busy changeover, we walked the lower and middle falls trails and found out who Mary Jemison was, and I scanned in some sketches from my penland sketchbook.

The lunch coversation about protein turned into this page.



Thanks to all who weighed in on what foods are highest protein.
Goodnight, then,
Rachael

Well, gang, I'm not accomplishing large creative tasks these days. My energy (which just a couple of weeks ago was focused, baby, focused on making and thriving) is busy being diffused into a thousand meaningless (or minor meaning) tasks. I get up early and eat something, hop the bus to work and jump from task to task until I hop the bus home to eat something and then hopefully I can squeeze in some time to make my paperdolls and speak the simple phrases in my head*.

Today, I was listening to the radio and somehow managed to make a paperdoll who (while I've never seen the disputed Mexican almost president) I decided to name Lois Obradoor. Here she is in her moody best...



The little sideporch is my temporary squatted space. It's prime real estate in this house not just because the light is so good but because it looks out over the backyard. But still I fuss because it isn't the studio I wish I had. Boo hoo, poor me. Will someone come over here and kick me for whining. At various points in the past couple of years my studio has been a corner in a dark space or it's been a dream like whitewashed, airy and open, ready to create area. But studio space isn't a physical thing; I think it is the intention to work, the time to devote, to passion to make stuff, and the discipline (foolishness?) to walk through minefields to get to sunflowers.

I wish I had more time, energy, I dunno what to be able to call all of the people I want to talk to, or walk around the block, or keep some reasonable limits to the amount of work I do for pay and the amount of work I do for my own sustenance. I've been getting grumpy with the wrong people and letting the grumpy people get under my skin and I know it's all because I am not playing enough. Oh well, it's off to bed for another round of work (just one last day,though, and we can call it a week).

Thanks for listening and fighting the good fight. I know you do about the same thing, right? Work too much and make too little? It's OK, we'll win someday. Lois thinks so too. She glumly nods in agreement and sends me off to bed.

love,
Rachael

* today's phrase was, is, and will remain...All of this almost

It's not that I'm having trouble concentrating now that I'm back in the real world with real things like houses and jobs, it's just that nothing seems as important as wandering and wondering. My backyard garden is crazy lush right now, it's all green and growing, alive and buzzing.

I am still amazed at the red red purply red beets I pulled out of the dirt this morning. I don't really know what to do with them except marvel at the color. My beet harvest was just two lil' beets but I can't complain.

We're off to barbeque things and get to know more people and then work will be wacky and it'll be hot in this house and the laundry won't do itself and I'll mean to write more letters than I actually will but, you know, until then I'll think about color and how the hard work of everyday makes the relax of days off that much sweeter than beets, even.

That's all really.

Take care of yourself,
Rachael

It wasn't just the food or the time to do whatever the hell I wanted to do but Penland is pretty.



And full of color.



And I walked away with a full sketchbook, head, and heart. It's going to be weeks of unpacking these ideas, I think but I have committed myself to making more art and trouble. From the time on my lunchbreak I play with clay to the drawing before and after work to the time spent looking and thinking. Lots of folks have been asking me what I made and I can't even really figure it out.

This paper doll below is an image of my memory of my childhood. My dad and I always have had a strong and ownderful bond and I used to sit on his shoulders.



More soon and thanks for bothering to read these wandering words about my wandering around...
take care,
Rachael

Yep, it's back to reality for me after two weeks of sun and twenty four hour access to studios (clay and drawing and anything else I wanted to explore) and great people to talk to and learn from and three good meals a day and the zen practice of chopping fruit to make a salad every morning. I am hooked on getting up early and hooked again on relishing life and so this re-adjustment to reality ought not be too hard. We'll see(of course) and I will try to post some pictures, stories, and plots for revolution soon but the start of summer classes at the school where I work is tommorrow so we'll see how calm I am after the doors open and the chaos comes in. Where creativity lives there is chaos, so I'll just love this calm until then. See ya once I land and thank you! Rachael