it's hard to remember days
mornings lost in a chronic haze
breath is fast and the trains are slow
i barely feel it though
all day long I fantasize
in the dark, behind all the people's eyes
and when they disappear
words get lost in the atmosphere
*
Untitled (Hanging Woman), 1992
i fucking love Kiki Smith, i don't care how gimmicky or un-legit or whatever else people have to say about her
i find her work incredibly emotionally charged -- evocative, raw sentimentality like bleeding vulnerability, sometimes in such a gentle way that some others might overexert themselves in order to come close
i think she was teaching at Columbia while i was there, but alas, our paths did not cross, and probably with good reason, i don't i would've taken any of her classes anyway
maybe it was just this show -- i saw her "Kiki Smith: A Gathering, 1980-2005" exhibit at the Whitney Museum in early 2007, shortly before i went insane for the second time
maybe i was just vulnerable then~
but i knew i felt something when i spotted this
Blue Girl, 1998, silicon bronze installation
in the paper, i knew it was something i had to see for myself
Untitled, 1992, beeswax, cheesecloth, wood and pigment
on the back of this figure were two sets of nearly identical claw marks curving symmetrically downward from the spine, like painful negations of wings or bloody rainbows
they weren't overwhelming in size, but the depth and red colour which filled the jagged ridges elicited quite a response (probably their desired response in 98% of viewers)
i stood there in front (well, in back) of the figure, sort of frozen in parallel fascination and horror, paralyzed by an intense impulse to run my own fingers along those marks and dig in, to do that on someone else's body and to know what it feels like on mine
Untitled III (Upside Down Body With Beads), 1993, white bronze, glass beads and wire installation
it's good to know that sometimes i don't pay attention to possible controversy or cachet~ or status, and that i'm not always such a stubborn little bugger about resisting hype -- i honestly have no idea where Kiki Smith stands in the vast contemporary pantheon -- that sometimes i can just like something because i connect with it and it's honest and simple and soothing and strangely familiar
for me, art is something that should connect people with themselves and with one another, that should elicit pathos and fruitful contemplation of those elusive skeins of feeling and remembrance buried deep within ourselves beneath the debris of the quotidian and burden of the mundane, which enmesh us in the vitality and possibilities of The Common Human Experience...in this vast, disparate expanse of existence, so often cruel, brutal, heartless, cold...i really want to appreciate any sort of phenomena and sensory experiences that unite us, that remind us that we are after all flesh and blood relatives, that we all feel pain and loss and disappointment, that beauty in whatever form does inexplicable wonders (even though it can hurt us and set us back at the same time, and that is what critique and progress are for), that in the end, it's not bad to help another human being and choose kindness over okay yeah i'm falling asleep here i should probably practice what i preach a little bit but nah that's not fun~ ;P
Sainte Genevieve, 1999, ink on Nepal paper, 95 x 70 inches
i realize that i come from a privileged point of view, but i no longer feel as though guilt and apology are a necessary response; instead, all i will do is recognize it, understand some of its implications within wider contexts, and then resolve to do whatever good i can while enjoying myself and y'know, just doin' ma thang~
plus there can be something incredibly inventive and sexy about friction and destructive impulses, if one does it right; not everything has to be honey and caramel kisses (eugh cringe)
i guess i just wanted to ramble back there, and boy am i a hypocrite for criticizing Gertrude Stein! yes i am enjoying her book after all, i'm sure everybody is shocked~*~!!
Near, 2005
i don't use periods very often in my entries; i feel as though they are too definitive, a terminus for which i am never quite ready because i like to leave things open and my thoughts dangling, and lately i've been hesitant to leave text hanging in the middle of a line because the empty space looks cold and unprotected, and that isn't fair when i'm always huddled in a cushy sweatshirt or blanket, but eh, can't fix everything~
i don't want to make art that is naïve, at least not without a sensible distance and understanding, perhaps even (dare i say it!?) a mastery of that naïveté -- i understand that there are certain risks artists must take, which put them in positions for ridicule and belittlement (wow didn't know that was a word), and i think one of my principal objectives right now is to work on developing a thick skin and a sense of self not so that i may avoid those things necessarily but so that i will be prepared to meet them and to learn from them, to take them in stride and absorb them in such a way that they might inform and improve my practice rather than impinge my creative impulses and drive to produce work
i think my paintings are pretty right now, and i like that, but it's not enough, not even close
i'm glad i have the ability to make things that people like and which bring people joy...but would it be too presumptuous of me (HAHAHAHAHA) to find that empty and unsatisfying
"Surrealism is never having to say you're Surrey."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
