2 performances as written to Patrick O'Brien Doyle and then reflections

1.

Ah, i did my first performance of the semester, and it felt so weird and wonderful.
I was shaking and scared in anticipation, this is always a good sign.

it was to be based on some sort of fear or loathing,
i think most of my performances are about fear,
there is something so amazing about doing the things you are most afraid of doing

So what am i afraid of?
i am afraid of looking people in the eye and saying what is really in myself.
i am afraid of intimacy
of vulnerability.
it comes very naturally now in writing,
but to open my mouth and speak it to someone was such a terrifying prospect.
i have never told you i loved you, while i looked you in the eyes,
but i have typed it so many times.

so i took everyone in my class into my studio,
(i actually left my computer recording the audio of their conversation, without them knowing it)
and then i asked them to come one at a time to opposite end of the hallway
where i sat in a chair,
waiting for them to sit facing me.
it was a last minute decision,
but i had them use a rolling chair,
the first person rolled it to me, sat in front of me and i spoke to her from my heart.
i told her how her performance was so brave, how her vulnerability was so beautiful
she had performed right before me and no one mentioned the painful secrets she revealed about herself,
they were the elephant in the room
the teacher said, you sounded too moved, you should have been less feeling in your reading
you shouldnt have let it show that those things made you cry
i told her it was amazing that she showed those things to us
and she cried and we hugged.

she rolled the chair down the long hallway and gave it to the next person
i met with each person in the class
mostly people were happy and receptive to the things that came from my mouth,
people seemed to let their guard down, they smiled, another hug.
some people seemed stiff and rigid in their seat,
uncomfortable.

The teacher was the most uncomfortable
she pushed her chair down in a comedic way
she sat in front of me, straight as a board.
it looked as if she was holding back laughter,
she wasn't going to open up to me
she wasn't going to take this seriously
she was going to stay locked up in the safety of the smirk
i told her what was on my heart,
the things i feared about her, the things i appreciated about her
she sat there so straight
not letting herself fully rest in the chair
i took her hands
i told her i thought she was beautiful
she did not say a word
she quickly nodded
eyes open wide
i felt like she was rehearsing telling this story at the bar later as i spoke myself to her.
oh they will laugh so hard, she thinks.

she left quickly
a comedic run down the hall
with the chair

when we gathered together
no one wanted to share their own experience
some people said they wanted to keep it to themselves
the teacher made jokes,
there were many tangents that people clung to, so they wouldn't have to talk about what just happened

there were a few statements:
it was like going to a confessional
i was impressed by your vulnerability
the chair was a great element

people spent a long time talking about the recording,
which they discovered half way through
i felt a little guilty, like i had bonded with everyone and then tricked them at the same time
they were worried about the things they said, the people they made fun of

no one said they felt tricked
no one was angry
they kept making jokes
so many jokes
anal beads
fucking fetuses
sex dolls
uporn
ha
ha

ha
no one wanted to talk about what just happened

the teacher said she was uncomfortable
another person couldn't believe it, "really? i felt so at ease!"

grant says we are avoiding talking about the intimacy by talking about dirty sex.


2.

So i just did this performance at my house.

i have been meaning to do some improvisation for awhile, so i decided i was just going to put on some music and go around my house improvising for about 45 minutes.

i started the music and i began moving about my house, on the ground, for some reason it seemed right not to walk, i must wiggle around like a worm, i must not use my legs like i usually do, so i move about waggling my legs like a frog frantically which helps me move slowly, inch by inch. i move to my stairs, then i decide, i must record this, this is beautiful, i need to strap my camera to my head so this will be filmed, my hands on the carpet my feet waving in the air towards the ceiling.

I look for my camera, i realize there is no easy way to strap it to my head, i will keep my improv to one room, i will keep it in front of my mac computer.

i press record, my arms are hanging down in front of the camera, i am moving like an elephant. i move with the music, i move quick, frantic, it is interesting

but finally i am on the ground looking up at the fan,
my mac cannot see what i see, but i line my feet and arms towards the ceiling, aligned with my vision of the fan. i am moving with its lines, i am mimicking its shape. i trace it in many ways, i realize that from t he view of my mac, these movements must seem random, seem meaningless, but there is meaning! there is a fan up there! i can see it! i dance with more purpose, i want the camera to know that there is something there i am dancing with.
then after learning its shape, i leave it behind, i face the camera, i make the shape of the fan, my arms shooting out like the blades, in one way then another, to make sure i get the point across, i hold an imaginary pencil in my hand and trace its shape, over and over, i want the camera to see it, i want them to know exactly what i am showing them, the blades the blades the blades, they go this way, and that way. i am using all of my energy to convey the shape of this fan, and then the circular light in the middle, i trace circles in the air, i shape my mouth in a circle, i trace my lips emphatically. a circle a circle a circle a circle!!!!!!! i give up showing the camera, by the time i open my eyes, i notice it is facing too much to the left anyway, i dont even know how much it has seen.
i fall to the ground, face down, i trace the fan with hopelessness,
i tap its perimeter, its shape, but i have given up,
this is more of a mourning, i am dancing the fan, even though i know it will never be understood, this will not even be seen by the camera, it is facing too high, but perhaps it will pick up my faint tapping.

finally i am through, i get up, i want to see how long this has been going on, i stop the camera, it only recorded sixteen seconds, it stopped, why? i dont know. my arms are hanging there, that is all that still exists from my dance for the camera. 35 minutes of song has played.

there is something here that resonates in me, this tracing of the fan seems to make so much sense. it is so familiar. facing the camera, trying so hard to communicate its shape, my desire was so strong, but i knew it would not be recognizable, i could never communicate the thing i saw so clearly. i was using a different language. the fan was existing in a way that could never be transmitted to another person through my own power. my movements would only be movements, they would never be a fan. i cannot make a fan appear for you to see, i do not have that power. this makes me so sad, it reminds me of nancy and you and niki and john and mike and everyone. it makes me want to cry. But at the same time, i know it is okay, there is a quiet voice, saying its okay baby, its okay, youre trying to do something you don't need to do. just be, just be, just be.

its saying something else, i can't quite understand yet... i can't exactly wrap my head around it. it is almost a whole thought, but it escapes when i focus on it.

-------

Doing these performances has been like an awakening, I did not even realize how long it has been since I did something that really resonated in me. The first performance, was so terrifying to me. How did i forget that these are the best kinds of performances to do? How did I forget my Anais Nin quote?

Doing something that so directly overcame my social anxieties was so freeing, i realized that talking to people seems so much less scary now. Being so honest, felt so right. It made me feel so powerful. Looking at people with my own nervousness, my own fear, but acting above it myself, overcoming it myself, made me feel so strong, so wise, so brave. Like I had the ability to assure these people that it was okay, there was no need to be scared or nervous at all. It made me feel like Elia, like a teacher, like a comfort, like a guide. Not every time, i suppose. its true, when i spoke to my teacher, i never overcame my fear, i was nervous inside the entire time. But it still gave me this sense that i was doing something right.

Ah, i feel like i forced her to reveal something really embarrassing about herself. I almost feel like I revealed more about her than anyone else, like we were the most vulnerable together. I exposed her.

I don't mean to impose any kind of judgement on her, i am fully aware that many people are like her, they have no desire to be intimate, to compliment. I just know that closeness, honesty, is what i want.... i want the freedom that comes with it...

about the second performance, i was not scared to do it, i just seemed to have this laziness about it. i have been meaning to do it forever.
it took awhile, but it really took me somewhere amazing, somewhere really deep, somewhere i do not know how to get to... Can i get to this place any time i want? Does it just take 25 minutes of searching, of letting go? Will I be able to get there more quickly with more practice? What takes me there? It seems to have something to do with presence. I have to lose sight of certain things, i have to let go of things...

done?
done.

No more drafts.

i look at this blog and most of the latest things in it are drafts.
i haven't finished them, or haven't made them public.
there were no drafts in the beginning.
i think i need to give up the draft.

i will publish things no matter how unfinished.
no matter how personal.
no matter how strange.

i can't sleep.
i feel alone.
i cried the other night because i feel so socially incapable.
i want to be close to people right now
but i am so far from almost everyone.
and i feel like i am getting really fat.
and i feel so stressed
anxious
i am losing my jobs after january
i am ending school after this semester
and i think that being in a relationship is really really hard for me.
as much as i love my boyfriend.
i am really really
self
centered.
and its hard
to not
be.
i guess
its hard to balance
i can't find a balance.
i don't know how to.
i am either really clingy and crazy or really distant and dishonest.

i keep trying to take a deep breath
and
be here.
in the moment.
feel the moment
appreciate the present.
but there is this anxiousness
buzzing in my chest and in my ears.

am i in the wrong place?
am i in the wrong place?
am i in the wrong place?
am i in the wrong place?

you aren't supposed to be here!
you aren't!
move!
move!
move!

i am not moving.
stop saying it
stop talking to me.

wait no.
never stop talking
i don't want to lose you
i want you to say something else
say something else
please
something soft and comforting and quiet.
something soothing
like
steamed
milk.

please.




i have been feeling
socially
inadequate.
i stand in a bar
and my face burns.
i felt the panic take my breath from me
but i caught in time.
why?
why am i so far from people right now?
why is it so impossible right now?
i feel like i can have friendships
or
a relationship
they must not mix
they must stay in their boxes
each special special
beautiful worlds
neatly contained
by walls made of my own brain tissue.

and as each one dies,
i flee
putting more of myself in the ones that still
exist
and i don't fit
i dont fit in these two
highly
unsatisfying
boxes.


how do i break my boxes?
brain tissue can't create boxes
obviously
they arent
really there
obviously
they don't even exist.
they don't exist
maybe if i write
that on the board 100 times.
i will believe it.

i think i am afraid of the vastness of
boxlessness
then what?
then there is no easy answer
you arent saying move
you are saying look
youre here
and i am saying no no no no no
i dont want to be here.
i don't want to move
but this can't be where i belong.

i am just never satisfied.


tell me the truth.
tell me the truth.

you are okay
you are okay
progress is just something
in your blood
your blood is just your blood
you are more than your blood
you are higher than your blood
you are existing
somewhere beautiful
whether you follow it or not

this does not make the buzzing go away.


baby,
everything is okay,
everything is okay.
everything is okay.
everything is okay.
everything is okay.
everything is okay.
everything is okay.
everything is okay.
everything is okay.
everything is okay.

Filming Adela and writing compliments

just to fill you in, recently I did a video showing my naked self to the camera, it was very raw, i did not try to look good, i tried to be honest. it was hard, but good. It led to the following...

---------------

Adela came over.

When she saw my last video, when she saw me showing myself naked on the screen, being naked for the class.
She said, I will model for you, I want to do that too…

I think it was a desire to be rebellious, I think it was a desire to be more vulnerable.

She told me that she had been judged before, but I think she is ready to be judged now. She seemed very defiant. She told someone I was going to help her out of her shell.

We hardly talked the week before, I think we were both so nervous. Then she came over. We were both nervous. I fumbled around setting up cameras.

She brought cognac and Cuban cigars and we drank on the back porch. We came back in, Adela was stripping off her clothes and I was trying to get set up, and she was naked and I was trying to get these cameras set up and then finally I stripped as well and we were both naked.

We laughed with eachother and began filming, we stood next to eachother, she asked me for instructions, I told her to do what she felt she should. She apologized for her breasts, she told me that she had nursed her baby, she told me she wanted to avoid showing her skin sagging. She had lost weight, she was getting older, she had a baby, she told me. I told her she was perfect.
We began with side by side shots, they almost look funny to me, I am no longer worried about people seeing my ass or my breasts, I see two very different, contrasting bodies next to eachother, they are funny. They are beautiful sometimes, they are funny sometimes, they are hard to look at sometimes.

In my last video I was set on being honest, about showing the things I was embarrassed of. This video was about something else it could be beautiful, it could be not so beautiful. I was not scared about being embarrassed. I was not scared of being beautiful.

We took a naked, drink break in the kitchen, more cognac. We talked about filming her vagina, did we want to do this? She admitted to me that one labia was longer than the other, I told her that one of mine was longer than the other. We talked about how we had both researched labiaplasty and decided strongly against it (just looking at this site makes me sad now, all those pretty vaginas turned into... boring). She told me that few women have labia like ours.

When I began filming her, she would strike a pose on the couch, a traditional feeling nude pose. Then I would take my camera and slowly scan her body from her feet, her calves, her shins, her knees, her hips, all the way up to her neck, her lips, her eyes, her face. It was all beautiful… now when I look at the footage I just wish it was slower, I wish stayed and really captured each part of the body. But I loved the action, I loved looking through the camera, going over her body again and again. Becoming familiar with each part of her. Appreciating every curve, color, and shape.

I thought at one point I was going to try and compliment her verbally through this part of the movie, this seemed like a difficult task, I wasn’t looking forward to it. Not that I couldn’t think of nice things to say. But once I was looking through the camera, I discovered that the camera does it for me, the visual speaks here. I am thrilled to find a way that my visuals work better than my words. This made so much sense to me. The visuals became my language. finally.
Lately, I have been seeing my art as an exploration of the distance between myself and others. Maybe exploration is the wrong word, because I am not just exploring it… I am changing it, perhaps it began as an unconscious exploration and now it is… a journey towards everyone.

It seems silly now, but I was very surprised by her insecurities. I thought she was going to be proud and confident... but of course, its almost impossible for a woman to be proud and confident right now... of course she was insecure... and her insecurities were so different than mine... yet so similar. I never apologized about my body, I never voiced a thought of being ashamed while i was naked beside her, but of course I am embarrassed about things... it is getting less now, i would have never been able to do this before. i was shy to show her my one long labia. But it was such a relief to be able to talk about it.... it was such a relief to be able to be naked in front of someone else, in front of someone else naked. I think we both reached a new kind of ease, a new kind of confidence through overcoming our fears together.

Another project I am currently working on is writing compliments. I am now writing them to everyone in my painting class.
Why compliments? I don’t think it is about being nice or having a positive mental attitude… I feel like seeing the good is the most pure I can be at this point…. The negative is always very connected with my own negative, my own insecurities and personal issues. Seeing the good, seeing the beautiful overcomes my own personal issues, atleast the negative ones…. Of course when I am writing these, I see myself. I was actually surprised at how much of these compliments reflected on the parts of me that I like, and the parts of me that I want to flourish. These compliments become almost… goals for myself.

I was actually trying to be less selfish here…. I mean I have been pulling away from the selfishness that I had to claim for awhile. And here, I felt like the motives were not selfish, I wanted to give everyone something nice. Something uplifting. I guess I did want to understand this gap between myself and these people, perhaps get us all a little closer or make the gap a little more understandable, more clear. This was not just for me, yet it became so much about me, through giving I received.

Also through these compliments, through writing them I am discovering how unimportant everyone’s judgments are. I mean… these compliments should be completely discounted, most of them are based on very little reality, and then that reality is taken and processed through me and all of my knowledge, experience and desires and spit out as a kind of judgment. Who gives a shit? Does it really matter if I like you? Does it really matter if I don’t? do you really want to line up to my way of thinking? Probably not! You want to line up with your own (atleast I do). This inspires me to discount other people’s judgments, to dismiss them…. No no… it inspires me to see them for what they are… a measurement to standards that are not my own and a portrait of the judger. And there is a value there, there is a kind of beauty there… It is just a completely different one than I perceived before.

Its time for school again

So I spent the summer intaking...

Part of me keeps sinking into guilt because I haven't been creating anything...
I haven't produced anything...

But when I really think about it
I know its okay

Partly because I have feel like I have learned so much this summer...
In a different way than my last two summers...
I guess you could say I spent my last summers painting people, obsessing over them at a distance, alone in a room, and this summer I was face to face with someone, inside them, inside me, and it was
much much
much

harder

or maybe not

they are both hard...

maybe its just more
physical
more
dangerous

it fought back
it couldn't be hung up on a wall walked away from.

of course i find myself missing things
but i missed other things before
of course
the answer is
to appreciate what things are
instead of wishing they were different

i don't want to be a party chaser

but there is a balance
between being a party chaser
and never leaving your warm cozy bed

i'm finding it
or trying

so school is starting
and it will be time to produce...

first let me say: I love my watching piece, that is posted on my life art blog
i love it.
i look at it and feel happy.

to tell you the truth it feels good to have seen so many movies
and i loved them
and i think about all of them often
i think many of them
of course not all of them
were a wonderful way to spend my time....

watching movies is good.

but for this next semester what will i do?

last semester was...

ugh

i didn't make much that i liked
basically i learned that
art making can be horrible...

it was not about self discovery, it was not about progress
it was more about...
competition
and
superiority
and
putting people in their place

is that me projecting?
maybe a tiny bit,
but i think its a valid observation...

I just don't want to argue
its distracting
i don't want to be put down
it is disheartening

i am not trying to make a point
i am not trying to beat anyone
i am not trying to show off a talent

i am just sharing
myself

atleast that's what i want to be doing

and what i want from others is a personal response... or advice on how to dig deeper

but that's not what i am going to get
i am getting passed along
the harshness of the
money driven
fame driven
art world

and this can be valuable
like i said earlier
i need to accept things for what they are and not waste time and energy wanting something else

disappointment can be a harmful distraction

and i can strive for change
and still appreciate my circumstances
that is an important thing to remember

i suppose i need to
surround myself with people who give me
personal response and beneficial advice
on my own

i cannot depend on the educational system for teachers

i can learn about systems
from the educational system

that is very handy knowledge

now...
about work

i am scared that i will be stuck
i have found a way to make things that people like
my mother likes them
i think its bukowski who says that if your parents like what you are doing than you are doing something wrong.

these quotes inspire me concerning these fears:

Society takes what it wants. The artist himself does not count, because there is no actual existence for the work of art. The work of art is always based on the two poles of the onlooker and the maker, and the spark that comes from the bipolar action gives birth to something - like electricity. But the onlooker has the last word, and it is always posterity that makes the masterpiece. The artist should not concern himself with this, because it has nothing to do with him. - Marcel Duchamp

Painting is a faith, and it imposes the duty to disregard public opinion. - Vincent van Gogh

I am scared of making paintings that people will not like
but i think that might be the only way to making great paintings.

my strange obsession with the way people receive things distorts my life.
i call it strange
even though it is a very common ailment
i just deal with it in such a bizarre way.
i have been dealing with it in different ways
i know that i have made alot of headway
but its still a powerful and destructive force

i don't know how to rid myself of it

maybe a little bracelet with some significant initials

ha

its hard to trust myself
i believe others over myself

at least, i listen to others over myself
that is a terrible problem

i need to think of some action that will help me overcome this
perhaps it can be my first performance piece this semester...
i have been attacking it as a kind of side note before,
but maybe i need to find a way of attacking it head on.
really
now that i think about it, it has been a major aspect of all of my performance pieces,
and i think that has brought me much further... i don't even know how to attack it full on,
i am sure it will come to me...

i just watched Man on Wire
it is really inspiring... it definitely inspires boundary free thinking that i intend to use in the future.

for painting its strange
there are some boundaries
there is a definition
i suppose i don't need to follow it
but i am drawn to it...
to the materials
to the act of recreation...
of filtering things through my mind and out through my body...
as something new
something shaped by all things that it passed through.
something that reveals things about the places it has come through and from.

These are the things i need to remember when i create my new great paintings that my mother will hate.

The Artery Performance

So, I met this guy at this bar, I don't know if this is where the story should start, but I'll go ahead and try it.

So I met this guy in this bar, and it was this night that i happened to feel really bored with my life, so when he told me about this crazy after party at this crazy hotel, i was down.

To tell you the truth, i let him in my car after knowing him about five minutes, and he hadn't really proved to be very sane, respectable, or trustworthy in that five minutes. Basically, he proved that he was kind of crazy, which seemed to me, the perfect anecdote to my recent boredom.

We didn't find the party, but we found his house. We didn't have sex. Mostly we had an all night sexy battle.
And I love sexy battles.

I kept telling him I was going to leave, and then I kept staying, and then i was wide awake while he was snoring, and i was thinking, I should write my number on his body and escape. Or I should just write thanks, and then escape.
And then it was morning and I was writing my number on a post it and kissing him goodbye.

That week I thought about him often, and I decided I would be happy to never hear from him again, because it is easy to love someone you don't know, but you're bound to run into some hatred if things go much further. But at the same time, my stomach fluttered with hope each time my phone rang.

A week later we were on our first date, and we became glued together, and we would stretch ourselves apart for things like work, and going to the restroom, but mostly we were side by side for the next... well until now, which is about three months later.

But after about a week, he tells me that he is known throughout town for a particular night in which he gave his ex girlfriend a "head push" (other people called it "smashing her head into a bar" but he assured me they were exaggerating) and then threw a large rock through someone's car window. Plus he had been charged with assault for an unfortunate incident at a party when he threw a table at a guy who was charging at him. As I stared across the table at this person, who i had grown somewhat attached to, I had a myriad of thoughts, but I didn't say much.

As I found myself in a relationship, I began growing nervous. I am not a relationship person. I like being single. I am not a fan of monogamy. But here I was. Nervous, and feeling an intense desire to get back to my auto erotic tendencies. Also, when you are glued to someone, you don't have much time to think, and my head was getting uncomfortably full of ideas that I did not have time to think through.

Now, at this time I was scheduled to perform at the artery, with Elia Arce and the Performance Art Lab. Elia and I had spoken about what I was going to do earlier, and that resulted in me crying about my tendency to self mutilate. She told me to stop judging myself, and to explore myself without condemnation. Brilliant advice, that I will remember always. But I couldn't quite put my finger on what I should do. People gave me many horrifying suggestions of ways I could publicly mutilate myself, but nothing felt right.

Finally, about four days before the performance I was scheduled to meet with Elia to try and figure out what the hell I should do. Fortunately, she was late, which allowed me about twenty minutes of being stretched away from the person that i was glued to. Just enough time to think through some of the ideas that my brain had been pregnant with. Just enough time to realize what I needed to do.

I decided to force myself to think through all of the ideas that were in my head. I would tie myself to a chair, with only one hand free to write. As I wrote, I would free myself, when I had freed myself mentally.

So for the artery, I was elevated, on a small stage. I was tied with lots and lots of tight string and i was writing through all of these ideas, and then i was tossing them down to the ground, so that they could be read, if anyone was interested. I invited written response, but i didn't get much that night.

I had many realizations as I sat in that chair, as I worked through my mental blocks, I cut strings away.

One of my major realizations resulted from the following:

I tried at one point to cut a few strings from my neck, With only one hand free, It was not an easy task, as I loosened a few strings enough to slip the knife through, they tightened the others. I realized that I would cut off circulation if I attempted to free my neck. I decided to put that off for awhile and focus on another area.

Later, the guy that I spoke of earlier, the one that I am glued to, took the knife from my desk as I wrote, and cut through the strings on my neck. It was frightening, letting him so close to my neck with that knife, he was not careful, it hurt a little, but he cut the strings from my neck. I could breathe.

I realized that people, relationships can do things for you that you could never do yourself. I realized how much value there is in straying away from auto eroticism from time to time.

Another realization came towards the end, I didn't feel like I could logically free myself completely. It is a lifelong? never ending? task to free yourself from the strings that hold us down. But a major theme in my writing became an appreciation of what is, instead of a desire of what isn't. Eventually, I realized that I had broken through many. many strings in the last two years. And the strings that I had broken through had given me the freedom to be performing that night. I deserved to enjoy the freedom that I had worked for. I deserved to enjoy the art show. That beautiful realization filled me with excitement about my accomplishments, and i cut through the rest of my strings, so that I could enjoy fully BEING where I was.

Throughout the next few weeks, I kept referring to the many truths I came to when sitting at that chair. It was an amazing experience.

More realizations came when I read the following review by Surpik Angelini:

Julia Wallace’s piece consisted in creating a “tableau vivant” where she appeared in a scene that was both oneiric and symbolically charged. Julia was placed on a pedestal, about two feet above ground, so that she seemed elevated from the common plane of existence. Like art, she was framed in such a way that every move she made seemed abstracted into “art”. The staged lighting was dramatic, emphasizing the separation of this imaginary scene from reality. Leaning over a table, with pencil and notebook in front of her, Julia’s hands and body were tied with string. Her fingers struggled to liberate themselves from their restraint, as she frantically, and rapidly wrote a long and continuous text that filled many blank pages of her notebook. As soon as a page was filled, Julia would tear it from the notebook and throw it unto the floor. The pages, strewn throughout, spilled over into the public space, allowing the audience to read the text and thus relate to Julia, who remained removed, inaccessible. The entire performance was allegoric of the artistic process, in the way it liberates the artist from personal or social constraints, while also making the invisible visible both to the creator as well as the public. The image of the strings tying the artist recalled Duchamp’s installation of a gallery, also bounded with string, which made the space inaccessible, or “iconic”. Conceptually, Duchamp’s installation seemed to be questioning how art objects are isolated from the everyday. By simply tying strings across a space that was once functional, he transformed it into an art icon. Julia’s beautifully executed piece had a similar surreal presence. In her piece, however, it was the artist herself who became the art, absorbed in another world, not engaging the public in any way. Yet, the notes she wrote transgressed the distance between art and public, as she threw them on the ground: a simple gesture, inviting people to engage through the writing in exploring the mind of the creator.

Surpik's piece was really exciting to me. I was happy to know that by doing very personal and specific artwork, I could make my statement about art. I did not make my piece to spell out my beliefs about art, but my beliefs about art were shown through my specific, personal application of art. Like this quote of Rauschenberg's that I found today:

"People ask me, 'Don't you ever run out of ideas?' In the first place, I don't use ideas. Every time I use an idea its too limiting, and usually turns out to be a disappointment. But, I haven't run out of curiosity."

I think if i would have tried to make a piece about the way i use art, I would have been limited and disappointed. But, by attempting to progress, by searching, by asking questions, my ideas about art were revealed along with much more personal progress and new directions to follow.

I don't want to talk, I want to ask, I want to listen. My questions and my actions will talk for me.

Mark Hesterlee created this pretty piece of info.

come.

the artery
april 3rd
8-10

you'll have a weird experience.

Painting Block Part Two

Dear Aaron,

This is Julia, Julia Claire Wallace, from painting block. I am emailing you because I somehow missed you today between my very short lunch break and my sneaking away to hear Professor Goeser talk about feminist performance artists of the 70’s which was really quite amazing. At one point,

Wait, First I must explain: I am a very writey person, and I completely understand if you are not, you do not have to email me back, but I wanted to get this out to:
A) Show that I really do care about painting block and
B) Keep me from forgetting all of this
because I am currently on a plane to Los Angeles and I will be missing a week of painting. But, please do not worry, I am sure all of the experiences that I will have in LA will enrich my artisticness, I will not be completely missing out.
I was listening to a free downloadable audio rendition of Thoreau’s Walden today and he says that he only feels guilty about the times in which he was ‘good.’ I am interpreting that to mean that I should not feel guilty about not always being in my painting studio, but instead I should embrace the enrichment that the things that steal me away may give. I hope, hope, hope that this will not make you and Gael hate me, because I desperately want to learn from the both of you and I think that will be a much more pleasant experience if you both like me. Of course, I will be in my painting studio as much as this philosophy allows. Which I think will be much more then today and next week seem to suggest.

So back to what I was saying before, At one point, one of the students in the feminist performance art lecture asked the class if she thought that the performance artists would benefit from skill. They do not have theater/acting/dance training, yet they are doing all of these things. Many people from the class responded by saying that they did not think that the performance artists needed to be judged on the terms of those genres. It wasn’t important, because that was not what they were doing…
I think this really explains a lot about the way I paint. Its been interesting to me to hear you and Gael speak about painting, about success and failure, about rules and communication, because I haven’t been exploring it as a skill at all. It’s been a means of increasing my understanding of myself, and of the world. I really appreciated you listening to me the first day, and I have been thinking often as my painting as ‘being’ and my critiques as ‘human exchange’. But I am also glad to acquire knowledge about the skill of creating great paintings.
I have been soul searching on the subject of painting. What does it mean to paint? What is it doing for me? Why am I painting? It’s been a really interesting inner dialogue. My understanding is increasing. Getting this painting degree is a giant performance art piece in itself. It is being, a way to understand myself. From the first project I learned a lot about the way I work under rules, and under authority, and in structured environments. I think that I did make some breakthroughs, and I will be much better and investing myself in projects from here on out.

So for this Menil Fiesta project…. This is what I have been thinking so far:
I have been asking myself what I want to gain from this project. My main interest so far has been the significance and implications that are packed in the supermarket, but are debatably less valued then the significance and implications of the Menil Collection. Maybe general society doesn’t value the ‘truth’ that’s found in the supermarket more than the Menil, perhaps it is just something I tend to do. I want to see the significance in the supermarket. I want to see the truth in Fiesta. So I think I am going to try and force myself to suck the truth out of Fiesta. But then again, I also want to see the truth in the Menil. I want to look at them both in a new light.

Here are my first ideas:

1) Paint a fiesta product in a large empty canvas, giving it the same importance and attention that objects in the Menil would receive. Like painting chicklets in the middle of a big white rectangle canvas. Then through the process of recreating this product in the space, I can reflect on the truth that this specific product holds.
(I would really like to record the thoughts this inspires as well… perhaps I could use the recording for another piece? Maybe an audio recording, or notes?)

2) a performance- On the day of the critique, or perhaps another set time, I would like to ask everyone in painting block to form an assembly line in which we will recreate miniature Brice Marden? Ellsworth Kelly? reproductions. I am really fascinated by the small parts that many people play in creating fiesta products…. Its been touched and planned by so many people by the time I get it, yet it seems so worthless. I am also interested in what reproduction does to a Menil piece.
(Maybe I could put the reproductions up for sale afterwards? I definitely want to line them up for display like a grocery shelf)

So that’s what I have so far… I really wanted to hear your thoughts… I am sorry I missed you in class. I would love to hear from you by email, especially in regards to these ideas. I really want to keep on thinking about them, with your opinion to spur me on.

But if not, I will see you next Thursday, and we can talk about it then!

Thanks so much!

Julia Claire Wallace

painting block: part one

There are a million things for me to write about and i have no idea what they are.

i think i just hear a bright eyes song that said his head is full of ideas that he hasn't thought of yet.

mind mind is muddled. full. 

it makes me feel like i shouldn't write... but really i think that its because i haven't been writing. 

i am now a painting major. 

its been interesting. 

perhaps i will speak about this for a moment. 

i suppose it all started last semester, when someone asked if i made block before it was even possible to make block. for about ten minutes i thought that i had missed the deadline. it was a horrible ten minutes. i thought i was going to faint, i was light headed and sick. it was apparent to me that i could not continue with an art education degree, and if i had missed my chance to get into the painting program, my easy options were no longer available. i had no idea what i was going to do. no plan. 

honestly 

it was exhilerating. 

i was planning an escape. 

i thought i would run away to LA

or run away to something. 

i would stage a fantastic performance. 

all sorts of plans rushing at me, as i tried to stay conscious. 

but then i discovered i hadn't missed the deadline.

i made painting block. 

so i would be staying in houston for the next three semesters, in a program. 

the whole thing put a twist on me getting into the program. 

it made me wonder if i should be heading toward the happiness henry miller describes: 

"I have no money, no resources, no hopes, i am the happiest man alive."

But here I am in painting block. Learning. 

I don't know what it is in me that makes me so horribly rebellious. i think its a good thing sometimes, it takes me good place. But it keeps me from learning too. 

these rules, these teachers who come into my room and tell me what i am doing wrong or right just seem ridiculous. 

okay, and i am not being one of those people who can't take any criticism. who constantly take any negative comment personally, and blame it on anything other than themselves. 

hopefully. 

i know

i know

i know

that these two teachers, mentors, artists

are vast pools of beautiful information, knowledge, and experience.

i am trying to soak that in. 

but the whole method of criticism seems ridiculous. 

but here i am doing something that i has repeatedly led me to dead ends. 

i am wishing things were different, 

focusing on how they do not live up to my personal opinions,

instead of soaking in the truth of what IS. 

so here is what is:

my painting sucks when it is guided by rules and deadlines.

it is better when it is inspired by passion, by inspiration, by emotional discomfort, by impulse.

one of my teachers will not listen to me, they pervert all of my actions into their own way of thinking and then spit it back at me. the information that they provide me with is accompanied with years of personal baggage and opinion. But there is a kind of truth there.  i have received helpful input from them. 

the other teacher values 'invention' almost more than anything else. it is their own personal interest.  My rebellion is not attractive to this teacher. he does not see everything. but he listens, and he turns everything into beautiful logical sentences. i have received helpful information here too.... i dont think i have ever been heard so clearly by a teacher. 

i do feel condescended to, i feel like they completely dismiss my art at this point. But i suppose thats understandable.... i should forgive them. its an easy mistake. i make it all the time. 

i think there is a tendency to completely dismiss these teachers, and i think there is a tendency to create art solely to please them. 

I want to make art from myself, honestly. I want to understand it and mean it. I don't want these instructions to take me away from that. But I want to learn as much from these people as possible. This is a wonderful opportunity. i want to suck in everything in that i can. 

i want to be friends with these people and with the people around me. 

its so hard for me to make friends.

its hard for me to ask for what i want, and i am awkward, and i make things uncomfortable. 

but its okay, okay, okay, to make people uncomfortable.

its okay if people don't like me

its okay if people reject me

its okay

its fine

its so much better than never trying

so so so much better. 

there will be much continuation on my exploration of painting. 

i want to figure out why the hell i am using paint

what it means. 

why why why

now that art is so vast for me

now that everything is a medium

i am questioning my place here in art school

i could be anywhere 

doing anything

why am i here?

what does it mean?

where will i go?

 

beauty, beauty, beauty, beau.., b...

So I did a pretty intense performance in class yesterday, and I am still processing, I will be for awhile, forever maybe.

I have recently become very interested in my sexuality. I have always been very interested in the subject, but now it has become a direct exploration.

I have been very intrigued by auto-eroticism and masturbation for awhile... My romantic relationships and friendships have repeatedly left me uncomfortable/unsatisfied. But of course, solitude is also unsettling sometimes as well. I have been lonely lately, and it feels irrational, it feels wrong. Monogamy has always seemed so contrived when I attempt it... So yes, it is about time I try and figure it out.

Not to mention, i am WEIRD and confused about sex, I am really comfortable talking about it, or really uncomfortable talking about it. Sometimes I am all about free love, and sometimes I don't think I'll ever have sex again. I am self conscious about my body, my sexiness... I mean, I am fine with it, I like myself, but I am very aware of my unique standards. The thought of my sexual quality being insulted was really terrifying to me, before this exploration started.

I think it is to alot of women, and alot of men as well. I mean... not being sexy... thats a terrifying fate. The thought of being labeled a slut terrifies women everywhere, it has terrified me in the past, its something i still think about. I know all of these worries, all of this self consciousness is keeping me from being honest about myself, and that keeps me from moving forward.

I suppose the direct exploration started when I decided one day to do a sound recording. I planned on repeating the word beauty to the ticking of a clock as i masturbated.

Well since my computer wasn't cooperating, it ended up being one of the most frustrating experiences of my life. But I did start the recording process, and what amazed me was the way my voice changed. At the beginning my voice was unsure, contrived, distracted. But as I became more aroused, my voice became stronger, more beautiful.

I realized that I lose my self consciousness during sex. I am acting more purely than any other part of my life that i can think of. I am acting according to my body, the part that is untainted by all these years of our culture's laws.

I decided I wanted to get this freedom into the rest of my life.

One way I did this was by getting extremely obsessed with sexy dance videos. Especially Eric Pryde's Call On Me, as well as anything involving the Pussycat Dolls (Loosen Up Your Buttons). I've rewatched this Christina Aguilera burlesque number many many times. Not to MENTION Shakira shaking her hips. Belly dancing is particularly fascinating to me.

Eric Pryde's video is ridiculous. But in this fantastic way. I love it for many reasons. I used to do workout tapes with my mother when i was young, so its nostalgic. Also I love the brazen sexuality. I think that often sex is hidden. I think this becomes a parody of ignoring sex.
And also it looks really fun. Everyone in the video is having a great time, they are all expressing their sexuality.

I suppose in a way, I want to be able to be sexy publicly as myself, I want to be able to use my body, I want to physically get this sexual energy out of me. And I think that using these ultra american sexy thong skinny toned sex goddesses as inspiration, is kind of like me directly assaulting the insecurities that these kinds of videos have created.

Not to mention how much I want to use my body. I feel like its been sleeping for years. This movement has invigorated me. I want to fully occupy my body. I want to be aware of all of it. The belly dancing is crazy, they use muscles that feel like I've never used them, and it feels really good waking them up.

I feel like I am conquering this unattainable 'sexy', that has paralyzed me all of my life.

It is for me, It is for my own progress.

I mentioned it to Nancy, who decided we should all do it, and then we told Brian and he mentions that we should do it publicly. So somehow I ended up teaching the class pelvic thrusts and instructing them to pose sexy. Its hilarious, its terrifying, its funnnnn. It feels gooooddd.

So hopefully one of these days you'll be able to come see us perform the sexy dance. And hopefully it will inspire everyone to use their bodies and be as sexy confident as we are.

it was pretty terrifying to do sexy POSES in front of my class, so when I started my actual performance I was shaking like crazy.

I set up chairs in a semicircle around me.
I was lying in the middle, My feet towards the wall, towards the outlet, where my vibrator was plugged in.
The ticking clock was playing in the background.
I chanted " beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty"
My eyes were shut the whole time...
I remember hoping for a moment that the whites of my eyes weren't the only thing showing,
but i forgot about that quickly,
I was also scared for a second that I'd never be able to orgasm, but that fear left me quickly too.
My mouth was so dry,
It was hard for me to say beauty,
But its okay,
I'll just let it all happen as it happens.
I stopped saying the word...
I just made noises,
the noises were reactions.
I came.
breath
breath
breath
"
beauty,
beauty,
beauty,
beauty,
beauty"

no one spoke for awhile...
The discussions afterwards were really interesting....
There was some discomfort, some anger, and lots of interest and excitement...
It was all very thought provoking...

I didn't know exactly why I did everything that I did, I had these strong urges, this is what seemed really right.... I knew that I would figure it all out eventually.

( I still feel like I should fail art school for not having intent, sometimes. It really sounds like a cop out, but no no no i SWEAR it is the best way to do things....)

And its been great so far.... I thought that I would cry, I thought that it would be exposing something sad about me, loneliness, something vulnerable....

but I feel very empowered.

(It wasn't about loneliness at all, which is great, I hope I am over the intensity of that phase. I have a feeling it might return once I get to the dark blue pills.)

I have thought so much about beauty... about transcendence...
about its relation to instinct... to sex...

how do i orgasm in life? How do I reach that kind of freedom through living?
I definitely think it is connected to listening to the body, and losing self consciousness.

Someone mentioned that they felt used when watching my performance... This was very interesting to me... All of my artwork is for my own benefit, I am using the audience, in a way.... But I do hope to give them something in return. I am showing them something very, very.... honest. I am becoming completely vulnerable for them. I hope that they value seeing ' true living' (as Anais called it), I hope they value a unique experience.

Yes, I am doing this for me, but I am showing it to you, I am giving it to you as a gift. It is hard for me to show this to you.... To open myself up for you....

Am I using you? Aren't we all using each other? Is that a bad thing? Is it a good thing?

I could write more... I really need to write about painting. Why am I painting??? I think that will be an excellent thing to figure out in a blog....

Explosive.

From Anais Nin's Delta of Venus:

So Elena and the neighbor started out. The first thing he said was, "You have a habit of turning back, starting a walk and turning back. That is very bad. It is the very first of crimes against life. I believe in audacity."

"People express audacity in various ways," said Elena. "I usually turn back, as you say, and then I go home and write a book which becomes an obsession of the censors."

"That's a misuse of natural forces," said the man.

"But then," said Elena, "I use my book like dynamite, I place it where I want the explosion to take place, and then I blast my way through with it!"

This lovely piece of literature has re awakened, and put beautiful words to my desire to use my art and writings as a way to demolish the things that hinder me.

The Rape of the Holy Mother

I have been writing alot lately, in the notebook that Chason gave me on my refreshing and reviving trip to Los Angeles. There are some hopes that I have for the next semester, when I start painting block. I'm nervous!! The "ass on paper" is a reference to one of my new favorite poems (yes! I finally found a poet who writes things that I actually really like!) I really want to carry a copy of this around at all times, and I was doing that until I gave my copy away to the beautiful Nancy Douthey.

Here it is:

The Rape of the Holy Mother

Charles Bukowski

to expose your ass on paper

terrifies some

and

it should:

the more you put down

the more you leave yourself

open

to those who label themselves

"critics."

they are offended by the out-

right antics of the maddened.

they preferred their poesy to be

secretive

soft and nearly

indecipherable.

their game has remained un-

molested for

centuries.

it has been the temple of

the snobs and the

fakers.

to disrupt this sanctuary

is to them like

the Rape of the Holy Mother

besides that, it would also

cost them

their wives

their automobiles

their girlfriends

their University

jobs.

the Academics have much to

fear

and they will not die

without

a dirty fight

but we

have long been ready

we have come from the alleys

and the bars and the

jails

we don't care how they

write the poem

but we insist that there are

other voices

other ways of living the

life

and we intend to be

heard and heard and

heard

in this battle against the

Centuries of the Inbread

Dead

let it be known that

we have arrived and

intend to

stay.

Also I have been attempting to paint some shirts for Christmas presents. I've done two and I think this one is the best. Maybe I'll post the other one after i give it away.

Look at my scan, isn't it crazy? This is how I feel! I am pushing up all of these crazy ideas and happenings to you, pressing it up against your computer screen, trying to make it understandable. I am so fascinated by documentation right now. I just wrote about it all afternoon but I think I only scratched the surface.

Art on t-shirts, what does it mean? Art as gifts, what does it mean? I like that I am making these with people in mind, I like that they will be seen by others (hopefully) I don't like the pressure of making them likeable. I don't like that they need to be good and presentable and please the people I am giving them to. I love giving, I do, but gifts this Christmas has been the most stressful and unlikeable experience I have had in a long time. But its been really interesting.

My dad has never given gifts and it really upsets my mother, and it became a huge argument this year. Its really interesting, because he will not give gifts because it doesnt make sense to him, he is basing it all on his own perception. He said my mother is simply looking at things in the wrong way, and her upsetness is caused by her own problematic thinking. Hey, my dad is completely self obsessed too! Crazy! its been very thought provoking.

I have been figuring out how to deal with the effects of my art, of my existance on other people. Ive been trying to figure out how to love, when to give, what other people mean to me. I feel like I've made some incredible break throughs.... I think I was scared to give myself to people because I knew that I am constantly changing, and I might not be able to be there for them the next day, I am a new person every day... But a million things have helped me discover that I can give what I can give, and that I should not be scared to give people what I can give,
There is this quote in Harold in Maude that comes to mind:

Harold: You hop in any car you want and just drive off?

Maude: Well, not any car - I like to keep a variety. I'm always looking for the new experience.

Harold: [smiling] Maybe.

Harold: [more seriously] Nevertheless, I think you're upsetting people. I don't know if that's right.

Maude: Well, if some people get upset because they feel they have a hold on some things, I'm merely acting as a gentle reminder: here today, gone tomorrow, so don't get attached to things.

Not that people are cars or anything! I just can't hold back myself for fear of hurting/upsetting people. Hopefully they will learn something from what I can give them.

I love Harold and Maude. Please watch it. I just watched it again the other day... I loved it more than ever.

So yes, I cant hold back, no no no no no.

I have to continue following the blind urge.

I have been doing that more and more lately,

following my urges instead of holding them back and its been so amazingly life changing.

Henry Miller says we stifle our genius! Its true! we all stop ourselves from doing the most amazing things. I still am. But I am doing so much better.

I am learning to appreciate nervousness and discomfort and awkwardness and insanity.

I've been interested in insanity lately too. After watching Harold and Maude and another amazing movie called Lars and the Real Girl, I started noticing the similarities of insanity and my understanding of performance art (ha!). Please watch Lars and the Real Girl.

The insanity of the characters are driving them towards healing/higher consciousness, they are addressing their problems, exploring them and finding healing through it.... They are breaking the laws of our society to do so... Their honest actions are what I am aiming for... But with insanity, its completely honest. It seems like performance art is somehow contrived... There is this tendency to act or try and talk to your audience, but I dont want to act, I dont want to tell you anything, I want to honestly work out my shit. In front of you, maybe. Maybe it needs to be in front of you....

(Ah, I missed writing in this blog....)

I do feel a lack of a theme or something in my work... It seems like I am supposed to have one. In performance class last semester Elia urged me toward touch, urged me toward the use of my body, and for awhile I tried to think of my artwork in that context... But, I feel like what I am doing is so huge and wide and vast. And it has to be, Its my entire life. But maybe it can be summed up somehow.... I am interested in perception and relationships and documentation and thinking and communication and life as art. Perhaps I should just completely throw out my idea of the artist with the theme and the style and the thread of interest? But is it all connected in some easy way and I just haven't wrapped my head around it in the right way? Its all based on me? On my perception? No... Is it? I dont know??? I definitely need to do some thinking about this..... I can sum it up by saying its a search for beauty. A search for truth. A search for meaning! A search for higher consciosness! Its PROGRESS.

But is that too vague?

Everyone in my performance art class seemed to think so...

I will think about it....

Here are some notes I've written about Documentation... I'm pretty fascinated. My new blog has been an excellent exploration of the concept, and oddly enough so has the use of my scanner (and my journal and the xerox machine.) More to come on documentation, I hope.....

julia is creepy.

While I definitely am going to continue posting to this blog, and processing my thoughts publicly here, I have a new blog with a new purpose:

http://www.juliaisliving.blogspot.com/

I am documenting there my art projects in a factual, online accesible, word based format.

Read about the adventures of me, Julia Claire Wallace, and other local Houston artists as they perform art throughout the streets/bars/homes of Houston, Texas.

Our Art will not be forgotten!

Our Art will be googleable!

Hope you enjoy.

Oh sweet happiness!

Someone else has written a blog about the participation art show and I LOVE it.

Thank you
Thank you
Thank you,
Robyn.

I plan to leave extensive comments.

why oh why can't everyone blog!?

My kissing is Art.

Houston's newest house gallery, "THE JULIA" experienced its second public performance art event last night, and let me tell you:

It was beautiful.

First of all let me say: I was extremely weirded out about this performance, I don't really know why. Perhaps I was nervous because of how weird the last phone booth stuffing was, and I think I was nervous about my neighbor hating me. I was feeling this despite the fact that I don't believe in worrying at all. Plus I just haven't felt like making out with anyone for awhile, and i was scheduled to make out with lots of people from 8-9.

I was really feeling uncomfortable about asking people to play spin the bottle. Good uncomfortable. I think alot of this piece was making myself ask people for something that I am not supposed to ask for. Something that it is rude, slutty, cliche, embarrassing, improper to ask for. I felt really blushy and weird about the whole thing.

I do want to be close to everyone...? I really do....
But this got muddy and seemed tainted by 'sex'... the selfishness this implies. I don't just want to kiss you. I want to be close to YOU. This confusion was gnawing on me without me knowing it.
(but i am selfish?)
(but this isnt simple sex selfish... I mean.... I want to see your beauty. Thats not as selfish as just wanting makeout is it?)
(Obviously, I am still confused about this.)

Plus Nancy was cleaning my room. GRRRRR. I really fucking hate when people ask to clean my stuff. I remember my ex asking me if he could just bring a trash bag over and then he would clean my room for me. That wasn't received well. i HATE when people come over and straighten my counter tops 'for me' while they are hanging out at my house. If I wanted my counter tops straight I WOULD DO IT MYSELF.


If I wanted my room 'clean', I WOULD CLEAN IT!


My mother constantly complains about my 'messes', but I really love them. She is embarrassed of my house, I think its amazing. Years and years of remains piled up on the sides of the walkways. Its crazy art.


And seriously, I had my books color coordinated.


So yes, me and Nancy bickered alot. Which was funny. It really makes me laugh.

But it also makes me really tense, and annoyed, and grouchy.

But things that make you feel alot are the greatest kinds of art.

(grumble grumble)


So I think one interesting thing about this piece is this:


I keep saying and saying how people's rooms are self portraits, are pieces of art.


And HA this is hilarious, here is a direct quote from my last post:


"I want to participate in your art! No matter what it is! I will make it my own art! I will take your intentions and pervert them into my own!


I want people to pervert me into their own truth! Then I want to take their perversions and pervert them back into my own truth!"


So I think Nancy took the beautiful beautiful art of my messy room and perverted into her own art and then gave it back to me.


Yay, just what I was asking for.


I think that I was asking people to do this on a small scale with my first performance art piece at 'The Julia'. I was asking people to take their stuff and make it their own.


And then here comes Nancy,


She took MY whole ROOM and turned it into Nancyland.


Then she gave it back to me and I will turn it into these thoughts i am writing in this blog and I am sure much more.


Which probably wasn't her intention at all, but that's the beauty of it, I am taking her artwork and turning into mine mine mine.


(Its kind of like that time I wrote the short story about the little kid and the girl and this guy was convinced the whole thing was about Jesus.)


This interests me alot because this is how we perceive each other. I think we display ourselves one way and people perceive it a completely different way and they turn us into something that is based entirely on their own interests and understanding.

It was really strange going up there after she was done. She lined up my books all weird and put all my figurines in one weird concentrated area.

It was also really strange how many heart wrenching objects had been placed in plain view, when they had formerly been tucked away. I think the first thing I did tuck a postcard she had displayed behind a box. She wrote some of my ninth grade poetry on the wall that brought back lots of sad memories. I don't really know what that means, but it was stirring.


Another thing that is interesting to me is that I didn't realize how artistically I DID have my room set up until now that its all been destroyed. I didn't realize how I had set up so many themed still lives and color schemes until now.


But also I seriously feel bad that Nancy worked for so long doing something that i really really hate. Like, I really fucking hate it. But thanks Nancy, I hope enough people told you they thought it was so great and beautiful and all. I hope that made you feel proud. Because all I can do is complain and be annoyed.

beautifully annoyed, for the sake of progress, for the sake of art.

I think hearing people say its great just annoys me more. Are you people crazy?

ANYWAYS.


onto my piece:

The game of spin the bottle.

So I had been really nervous and uncomfortable by the time it got to the Art show night. I wasn't sure how everything was going to turn out, not very many people were signing up to play. No one was getting drunk enough.


But I got this really great group for the first round. A small group. Everyone was HILARIOUS. We had such a good time.



I am really glad I said no spectators, I think that forced alot of people to participate.

I was really interested in contact... in making people come close together in a way they couldn't be otherwise.

I think the part of the game that did this most effectively was the 'thirty seconds in the closet'.

I guess I should say the rules were:

1st time two people have to kiss, they must peck. The second time they must kiss for three seconds. The third time they must spend thirty seconds in the closet.

In game two a couple more rules developed: the fourth time people have to use tongue and the fifth time they shake hands. ha!

Okay so, the thirty seconds in the closet was the thing that surprised me. I didn't really expect it to be so interesting. I wish I could have made alot more people end up in there. I was lucky to get in there so many times :)

I absolutely love how different everyone was in there. How unique each experience was. How AWKWARD it was sometimes.

haha I won't use names.

So first of all, I was in there with this lovely woman whom I had a couple of classes with a few semesters ago. She was absolutely hilarious, and I had no idea HOW hilarious until this game. She played the closet situation wonderfully by unbuttoning her blouse and moaning loudly and hitting the wall screaming "YES! YES!" I don't think she looked at me the whole thirty seconds, not because it would be awkward, but because it was so funny that we were in the closet. She re buttoned her blouse after she sat down in the circle again.

Second I ended up with one of the reluctant players. Who I thought was an excellent addition to the game. He was really really unsure about being there in the first place, and I think he was extremely upset to be in the closet with me. I tried joking with him, asking him about the weather and talking about nothing, but he was too nervous to even tell me about the weather. No eye contact, nervously playing with his necklace. Half saying words until we hit the thirty second mark.

I ended up in there with one boy, in the dark, and we just held each other's arms for the thirty seconds. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

It was so easy to kiss in front of everyone, when you were forced to, but in the closet, you would have to be really really really brave to get any kissing. And the suggestion that it should be? could be? happening created this beautiful fear? shyness?

Another guy who had been extremely brave and shameless in front of me just looked at me and commented that there was no pressure when no one was watching. Then we nonchalantly waited for thirty seconds to go by.

And then one guy immediately starts playing rock paper scissors with me. It was FANTASTIC. And there was NO EMPTY SECOND between the time we walked in and the time we left. I am telling you we played like 60 rounds in the thirty seconds because there was going to be nothing but rock paper scissors going on in that closet. hahahaha.

So yes, everyone should end up in the closet for thirty seconds.

The second game was incredibly different. There were alot more people, and I think all of the people were much wilder, and I think the number of people really fed the wildness. I thought it was great. What an amazing group of people. This game would definitely be wildly different with a different mix of people. And everyone playing played an important part in the feeling of the game.

I don't know exactly what this event throwing that I have been doing means. It makes me really really really happy that I am making these experiences possible for people. That I am giving people an experience that they never could have had without me.

I love that I made Jimmy kiss tons of boys. I love that the first thing he says is that it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Look! I was accidentally political. Through a silly, fun game.

I think that this piece meant something to every person who was inside participating, to everyone I asked to participate it. I want to hear what it meant to them. I want their meanings to take my meanings to new places. I want their participation to further my understanding.

Do I have the goal of making everyone think creatively like me? Is that part of my goal in my art? Well it would work well for me, because then I would have more people interested in giving me feedback and sending me higher and higher.

I do want people to have good experiences. I do want them to be happy. It makes me really happy that everyone was having such a good time. That their faces hurt from laughing so much. That they have good stories to tell.

Haha some guy told me that he was alone in the studio with one of the boys he had kissed after the party and it was really funny. Hahaha I love that there are lasting effects. Does the closeness linger? Does the awkwardness linger?

I feel closer to all of the people that I kissed. I feel like we have a new/different connection now. Like we share this private memory together. They have left a mark in me.

Robyn was telling me that she tried to really truly KISS everyone that she kissed. That she MEANT it when she did.

I hope she blogs about it!

I wasn't extremely present in each of my kisses, I remember one or two that were particularly powerful. It would have been nice if I had stopped and really relished the fact that I would probably (ahem) never be this close to these people again. But I am glad that I just had tons of fun. I mean, I hadn't had fun in awhile, and I think it was really great to be simply high on the experience.

I feel a little funny that my art was so much FUN. Like that isn't right or something. Like it can't be great art unless it is obviously serious to everyone. Am I scared of critics?

Let me just say that critics have been really frustrating me lately. I think you are really doing yourself a disfavor if you look at art and think: Is this good or bad art?

It would be much much better for you to look at art and think: What can I get out of this?

I caught myself being a little critical of some art lately, and it was really bothering me. I realized though that I simply want the artist to be getting as much out of their art making as possible. When I am being critical, that seems to be my underlying concern. And I don't think my criticism should be taken at surface value, I just want them to think about it and then figure out if it can make them get more out of their art or not.... And if they give me some great reasons for doing what they do, that's great, it'll make me think more, it'll broaden my mind. Take my words and pervert them into your meaning and spit them back at me and I will do the same for you. It will be beautiful.

But hey, reading criticism inspired this line of thinking which has been fabulous for me. So its all good.

But... for your own sake! Figure out what art can do for you! Not if you think its good or bad!

If the artist is crazy, use that too, turn it all into something beautiful that you can use to see more beauty.

Also: interesting thought I had the other day:

I was talking in class about they amazingness of using art 'as a tool box' and no one caught the amazingness at all. the realization was not spectacular for anyone else and then i realized: they don't know that their lives are art yet. I keep forgetting that this isn't common knowledge. Does this mean I am getting eccentric and weird? Detached?

i should not get too detached.

or should i?

i think i am done with this post.

oh wait: I just want to say that doing the boob paintings has been quite interesting. The other day my friends were all passing cell phone pictures of their breasts around the bar because I asked them to give me pictures of their breasts to paint. I think this is absolutely beautiful. I love how art goes in such unexpected directions! I LOVE IT!

Edit for Elia:

FOR TUESDAY, PLEASE TAKE SOME TIME OUT TO YOURSELF AND WRITE:

1. DESCRIBE WHAT YOU DID:

I inititiated a game of spin the bottle at a Performance Art Show.

2. WHAT WORKED

The game was great, I really enjoyed it. It was great doing it in my parents room, on the rug. It was great using my creepy under the stairs closet. It was REALLY great refusing to have spectators, this inspired more people to play. I think it also created more intimacy and freedom. Thirty seconds in the closet was awkwardly wonderful.

3. WHAT DIDN'T WORK-

It was a little strange getting everyone together... I don't know how I could have fixed it. I don't think it hurt the piece at all.... but it was a little awkward, I dont think it added anything good to the piece. I was a little nervous about it being documented the first time, I probably should have set that up before, so I wasnt worried about it.

4. MY BIGGEST CHALLENGE WAS...

Being excited about my art piece before it happened? Getting people together? It was embarrassing to kiss in front of other people, does that count as a challenge? It was hard for me to initiate this kind of thing, I was sort of embarrassed, but that was a good personal challenge.

5. "IF I DID IT AGAIN ...I WOULD...."

Make my little reservation list a little different... just a regular list or something. I dont think making it 'reservations' on fancy paper added anything good to the piece for me.

I would definitely figure out how to get WAY MORE PEOPLE IN THE CLOSET FOR THIRTY SECONDS!!!

I would probably do it longer.... It seemed like it was supposed to be short, I think if it were longer it would have created more intimacy.... There was this pressure that it should end, that it should be thirty minutes. I want it to last more like.... four hours.

6. HOW DID THE ENVIRONMENT, HOUSE, ARQUITECTURE, PEOPLE, TRANSFORMED OR NOT YOUR PERFORMANCE FORMAT, AESTHETIC, CONCEPT.

I really loved that I was playing spin the bottle in my parents bedroom when they were out of town. That adds alot more deviousness to our actions, and I really love that what we were doing is mischevious. The closet was an excellent environment for the thirty seconds. I loved that my piece could occur set apart from everyone at the art show. I love that we had the ability to shut out everyone else. I also love that the whole house could hear us laughing.

It was really incredible to have this in my own house. To add this to the history of my home. To have my home seen by so many people.

7. "I WISH I HAD....."

the ability to experience this piece over and over and over.

8. MY BIGGEST ACCOMPLISHMENT WAS....

getting so many boys to kiss eachother!

getting so many people closer than they ever could have been!

having an art show at my house!

getting myself so close to so many people.

9. I FEEL MY PIECE IS DONE..OR.I WANT TO DO IT AGAIN....

I would love to do this again and again and again.