artist of the day: david salle

i am drowning in a sea of [not] feminist discourse and art that isn't mine.  discouragement has a face and it was drawn in blind contour earlier this evening, looking depressed in my mirror and graphite-y in my sketchbook.

additionally, my roommate left her disgusting mess in the kitchen and went home for the weekend.  i am so bitter.

maybe i should be an art history major.  then i would get all the joys of looking and none of the pains of making.  although i would have the even more torturous pains of writing.  but then, it looks like i'll probably end up doing that anyway.

------

i thought about the hours wasted
watching tv, drinking beer.
i thought about the things i thought about
until immobilized with fear,
and all the great ideas i had,
and how we just made fun
of those who had the guts to try and fail,
and then i ended up in jail.

- regrets, ben folds five

artist of the day: marcel duchamp

[that's all.]

artist of the day: nader ahriman

i would understand this dude a whole lot more if i knew something about metaphysics.  but i don't.  so i don't.  ten million sighs.

+++++++

i need to buy groceries and do laundry and clean up the stuff on my floor and generally look after myself more.  instead, i have lost motivation, and the library claims not to have seen the book i returned to them 3 days ago.

i wore high [it's a relative term] heels and stood around for four hours today and now my legggs hurt but there is nothing i can do about that.  plus it's not a bad kind of pain exactly.

i wonder what it would feel like to be diabetic and have your muscles getting sore and tense sometimes because of your blooood sugar fluk-chew-ay-shuns?  i just think that would be so strange but maybe you get used to it.

+++++++

come let me make up for the things you lack.

- sexy back, justin timberlake

[oh, i went there.]

artist of the day: jeff wall

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what's that disease where you do something compulsively that starts with a rush, but quickly turns into some kind of agony, and you wish you could stop, but as soon as it's over you immediately want more?

[...art?]

well, we all have our drug of choice.

------

artist of the day: franz ackermann

another german.  those germans and their smooth-smooth shapes.  so urban.  i wish i could be that cool.

i am too messy to be german, i think.

""""""""

sometimes it feels like you just turn out to be this certain kind of person that you weren't expecting or even really wanting, but that is who you are, and you must work with it.

""""""""

[keep swinging your wrecking ball.]

- wrecking ball, danny michel

...oh, nighttime and all the things you do to me.

****

artist of the day: cindy sherman

[not one hundred percent sure how i feel about her yet... perhaps i am challenged by her exclusive use of photography.  perhaps i just don't know what to make of a woman who creates such ugly things.  i am not sure how i feel about doing things that are only okay to do if you don't have a penis.  does that mean they are actually okay?  or just less terrifying?]

but then i feel very satisfied by the amount of art theory i've consumed today, so good for me.

art theory and miniature mars bars.

****

so i've decided that right now i feel bad for incredibly good-looking people.  this feeling may be gone by morning, but i thought i should acknowledge it while it is around.

oh and plus i bought girly shoes and a headband, so there.  and next weekend i'm buying mascara and jewelry and nyyyyyylons [black].  cuz i am a liberated woah-man.

but for now i just look forward to drinking some fruit juices.

****

you leave me numb and i'm not sure why.

- spitting games, snow patrol

i don't know if anyone remembers that post from way back in the spring, but i am feeling that way today that i usually feel about sunshine and bits of green and the arrival of insects.  man, i'm excited lately.  and it's not even pretty outside.

.........................

the jehovah's witnesses are sending me hand-written letters.  i assumed everyone in the building got one, but apparently not.  somebody should tell them they are barking up the wrong tree.  [although the tract proclaiming big and bold "THE END OF FALSE RELIGION IS NEAR!" was an excellent touch.  i especially like the dramatic lightning bolts in the background.  bet that one rolls in the converts.]

i normally wouldn't feel too good about making fun, but when you rip my name and room number off the button-y things in my building and send me weird mail, i feel like maybe i am allowed.  that's probably not true.  but tammy, if you are stalking me and have managed to find this blogggg, could you include a few loonies in your next letter?  i'm having a lot of trouble finding enough change to do all my laundry, and trust me, you do NOT want me converted until i get some clean clothes.

.........................

watched traffic yesterday.  jury's still out.

i am determining to learn about art that i did not know about every day this semester.  i will likely fail, but that is okay because i will still get to look at a whole bunch of interesting things.  i probably won't bore you with details, but i would like to keep track.  so here we go.

artist of the day: tomma abt

what a great name for a woman, no?  maybe if i ever have a kid i'll name her tomma.

.........................

life's so rad.

- the sweater song, weezer

everyone cares about women's issues, but nobody cares about men's issues.  not even men.

and what's the word for a feminism that cares more about people than genitalia, anyway?

[ah, to learn everything in a very short period of time...]

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

so there was this lady and she said once: "you can teach and do that if you want, but you can't not be an artist.  it's in your blood."  and i thought: "that's a double negative, and how would you know anything about my blood?"  and i still think she was off about the blood thing, because i feel like my blood is full of primary colours and stupid black bonnets [another blog entry entirely], but maybe the art bit is lodged somewhere else in my body.  in my hair follicles or something, just below the surface.  like an itch you can't quite scratch.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

so i have a box of seventy miniature mars bars and all the time in the world.  and that's why it's important for the end of midterms to coincide so sweetly with the post-halloween sugar rush.  i smell celebration in my future.

i smell celebration in my present.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

f enters sculpture studio and smiles at j, while taking off excessive amounts of winter apparel.

j: hi.  how's it going?

f: good.  i've regained my zest for life.

j: oh...that's good.

f: [skipping clumsily into plaster room] yep.  i'm thrilled to be living and i'm thrilled to be here and i'm thrilled to be me!

j: cool.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

i'll walk right out into a brand new day,
insane and rising in my own weird way.
i don't want to be the bad guy.
i don't want to do your sleepwalk dance anymore.

- santa monica, everclear

so this is what happens when you stop ignoring the diety in the room?

[like an elephant, but bigger.]

sweet.

+++++

i have been making art since nine o'clock this morning, with breaks for food and only food.  and drink.  and that makes me feel very productive.

so now i have to wash the sawdust down the drain from my whole self and pull the splinters out of my fingertips.  and take a break for food and drink.  and write about art until my eyes fall out.

haha, gross.

and then i will stick my eyes back in [groping, blinded] and hope they are not in sideways or something, and study the history of art until my body liquifies, except for my eyeballs, which will have recovered by then.

oh and somewhere in there i will examine my pretty bruise from when the table saw threw wood at me.  ouch.  somebody oughtta teach that saw a lesson.  except somebody with a practically indestructible blade should probably be the one to do it, so it's a fair and even match.  i am all about retribution toward power tools.

ha.

oh, and plus i met this man today and he is an art student just like me and we are going to london together.  so yay.

right, about that shower.

let's not forget ourselves, good friend.
you and i were almost dead,
and you're better off for leaving.
yeah, you're better off for leaving.

- does he love you, rilo kiley

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

i am so frustrated with my ineptitude [word?] right now and i would like to cry and get it over with.  but i will not cry.  instead, i will buy some chocolate soy milk and sip it until it is gone and then feel bad that it is gone.  and then plough on through, like i always do.

i cannot wait until thursday.

it bothers me to see someone made into a conversation piece.  he's sitting right there.  the randoms from calgary who showed up to get drunk really [really] don't need to know what sort of people he dates.  it's just not relevant to the general activities of alcohol-comsumption and loudness.  but then, what do i know?

i need to take some breaths.

i am thinking of quitting everything to become a country music singer.  but i think i would miss that gross smell of wet concrete eventually.  ew, wet concrete.

chocolate soy, here i come.