No time to draw that, but I wonder if I would have seen it if I wasn't taught a long time ago to be looking.

that's all.
take care,
Rachael

I got turned on to this website from the Yale University Art Gallery by a colleague. The What is Art section had me thinking and asking more questions, and then I had a good time wandering through the Permanent Collection. A few minutes of looking at a digital picture of the Mesopotamian bowl alone was enough to get me thinking anew about some old stuff. The whole site is swell, proof I guess that a good collection, a lot of work and some money grease make for more and better ways to meet the mission (here ). But I don't know how I feel when the museum becomes the website. Where is the stuff from the Terra now that the Terra is no more? Huh? Just wanted to tell you about that schtuf... take care, Rachael

A few days ago I had a good conversation with an old friend and fellow traveler (not necessarily a red , mind you, but anyway...) who is working on a project to document and understand one small part of the big wide world of museum education. That's the work I do. It's the work I love, the work I spent a long time figuring out how to do, the work that feeds my art and is fed by my process, the work I joke that I took a vow of poverty for. (Actually my story is a lot like Christopher's here but I cycled back to a full-time job in which art is embedded). I joke, I jest, I go to work everyday. The talk I had with my friend reminded me that the work we do is important, it's odd, it's often invisible, and it requires a specific kind of scrappy, smart, and ambitious folk.
My friend, reminded me about how I used to share info about finding museum and non-profit art opportunities. I don't have that pamphlet anymore, but I do have some of the same leads and some better ones....

For job and art opportunities, try bookmarking and often checking the boards at NYFA, the Southern Arts Federation, and AAM.

The simplest ways to educate yourself and others about works of art would be, I guess, to adopt the simple strategies most museum educators I know use...
remain open to new art and ideas, even when they are very old
ask lots of questions of people that have more experience, education, and passion than you but don't assume that their answers are the only answers
get in front of the work as often as you can
look longer
try to make something similar, the process of making will teach you more about that work
let yourself be lead by the things that fascinate you...

Like guys from Venice who wander all around the world. Yup. My fascination with Marco Polo is back after I saw a little thing in the Wall Street Journal that a house he is rumored to have lived in is for sale in Venice. Maybe Marco Polo is just a kids swimming pool game to you but he's an inspiration, a wacky fascination, and a daydream to me. A good museum ed project that helps 'splain it a little is here at the Met and every couple of years National Geographic does a story where they send a writer and a photographer to follow Marco's journey. (This is a good Marco Polo section, too, and now I'll have to seek that music out.)

And finally, if you know a kid who likes to read, especially a 10 to 15 year old kid, give them a copy of Linda Sue Park's A Single Shard. The story spins out from Korean celadon ceramics. Oh and then take the kid to a good collection of Korean ceramics and help them figure it out, be amazed, and excited.

I'm off to make more bread, make more messes, work and wander.

Take good care,
Rachael

Oatmeal and scarves.
All of the reds, most of the oranges, plenty of the green leaves have turned brown. And they're curling and crunching on the sidewalks.
It's colder everyday.

It's amazing how the season change is changing us. I'm crunching leaves as I march to work every morning, depending on how early I can get up I can see my breath in the air. I only want hot liquids. I only want to wear long socks and sleeves, sweaters and mittens. I can tell why everyone here knits...

I've had some run ins this week. I've had a few cases in which I let the bastards get me down and I simpered and I stumbled. But the more I notice, the more I listen, the more I meet folks and the more I make work the less the grumblers will matter.
Sure, yeah, right. I think so. Probably.

So in the meantime, I'll keep looking at the leaves and the sky (most often it's close to pastel gray as in here.)

Gotta go the bread is almost done.

take good care,
Rachael

Last week I realized that if I was going to communicate something of the feelings I get aroud these dumps of leaves, this loss of leaves from tall trees all around me, if I was going to paint anything of the colors or the experience, the clock was ticking. I started stuffing leaves in my pockets as I walked home from work. Allof the leaves I used to rake are back, all of the paintings and drawings I used to make where bits of small come together to make large are creeping back.



This weekend I painted these two of a series of three watercolors (22 x 30 each). And today I stepped back into my (new) studio. It's not perfect and I'll have to figure some stuff out when it comes to heat and light but I can work here. I need to. This uncontrollable drive to work is back even if I'm not exactly sure of what I'm making.

Messes or paintings, full thoughts or first drafts, I just want to keep these paintings honest and to keep reveling in the surface, the marks, the color.


Usually in the studio (at least once) I'll think, "this would be so much easier if I knew what I was doing". But I know what I need to do. And that's ride out the process, keep my paintbrush in motion, trust my gut and get these images out into the world.

It doesn't hurt that I'm reading Anne Truitt's Daybook and baking bread and taking long walks.

take good care and good luck with your process,
Rachael