Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Between home and home

My last gig for the year was a live event, taped to broadcast this week on radio. This was the first group, a band called The Katy. We each only had 5 minutes to perform so The Katy could only do one song, a shame! I had a little extra time because my papermaking won't be on the radio as visual art does not translate well without visuals. You can see the host at right, Mike McIntyre, who was really well prepared. It was a relief to answer new kinds of questions that were thoughtful.
I arrived after 2pm though my sound check wasn't until 3:30pm, for a 6pm show, because I had a lot to set up and then tuck into the wings. I was extremely jealous of the people who could get up without props, perform, and then relax, but I enjoyed all of the gigs immensely. They had this camera on a big crane in case they air this on TV later. The director of the TV part was very kind and helped hold my display stands as I tried to screw legs onto them.
Choreographer Dominic Moore-Dunson (at right) performed part of a show that he'll present next month at Akron Civic Theatre. His goals are inspiring and we were all sad that we couldn't see more of the performance. There were six gigs in total and the show will air this Wed on 90.3 WCPN at 9am, with the video of the event eventually going online at their community tour site. Thank goodness a friend came and was like an angel, ordering food for me to inhale between striking my set, loading my car, and having provided props for the solo show I de-installed only days prior. Where would I be without my friends?!
If I had had more time to relax after the show, I would have curled up in a ball for a few days before flying, but instead had meetings, January teaching prep, and final class and grading. I packed the night before leaving and arrived so early that I had enough time in the weirdly quiet Cleveland airport for this selfie with my art at the current airport exhibit.
The direct flights to NYC on my regular airline are always in sardine cans, so we were smushed in with a pilot who did at least one sudden descent and then lots of killing time (I know, that's not his fault). Soon after passing Manhattan, we passed the airport and kept going so I closed my eyes because I didn't want to see Boston or wherever we were hovering over. At that point, passengers behind me who perhaps had never flown had been spending 40 minutes exclaiming, "Are we there yet? Where's the runway?" and I felt quite ill from all the turbulence and inane chatter.
Seeing her with her arm still aloft makes me feel sad when I think about how we are tearing each other apart, but also makes me think of novels that center around immigration and islands, way stations where people who have been on boats for a Very Long Time pause briefly. I hope we push the ship towards better days.
This morning I spent hours finding old photos and scanning them for the PBS producer editing a show about my life. I thought my art in my undergrad senior show was so wonderful, and it's so not, but it shows me A LOT about how to approach teaching art students at this age. I also am amazed by how much velvet I was wearing. David and Eliza, pictured here, were my showmates and I still love what we did together in this gallery for a brief week or so in 1999.
I don't remember exactly where or when this was, but it must have been high school because I recognize the slip-on high-heeled clog-like shoes that my mom got for me and the white-top black-bottom rules. My favorite part of school concerts aside from performing was collecting cash from my classmates ahead of time and going to the local florist to put together the loveliest bouquet I could get for our teacher/conductor. I still love flowers and teachers, especially this one. On the back of this photo in someone else's handwriting (whose, I don't know) is "PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE" plus a smiley face in the corner. I get two weeks at home to practice being home amidst friends and family while balancing with a bit of rest. :)

Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Rooting the moon

My dear friend Therese reminded me of the full moon due shortly, which helped me remember why things are converging so intensely all at once. This is a piece (I didn't get a good enough shot of the artist's name but it's part of a show of Ohio artists) at the Canton Museum of Art.
I went there for the first time to see Yuko's solo exhibit, which was lovely. A lot of it is based on paper she finds in old books that have been eaten by wormholes. A nightmare for a conservator and a treasure for her. She takes pages and paper apart, pieces them together, and uses them as resists in her printmaking. This corner shows some of her collages mounted onto antique wooden spools.
I attempted a less work-filled weekend, but did have a lot of panic over the paper studio I've wanted Oberlin to have for years. My fantastic librarian colleague drove a press over to my house to deliver to my neighbor, who will construct pieces for us. We did a big hardware store run but there was still a ton of stuff on campus that we need on my side of town, which I picked up yesterday on a rainy Monday after de-installing my solo show. This task was much easier than install, especially since a number of pieces sold—the best end-of-year present I could ask for!
I had eight different meetings but each one was enlightening. I especially loved visiting the new maker space in the Conservatory's TIMARA department. I rarely if ever went to the basement when I was a student as it felt like not a place for me. Time and advances in the field have changed the program and the space feels much more welcoming now.
I was skeptical of getting everything done yesterday but writing a list helped. Completing the list and more explains why I am so beat today. This was my sugar rush at 4pm yesterday where I began more lists, as work begets work. The next several days are overbooked: radio gig tomorrow (which meant papermaking and prep today), continued studio build-out for Oberlin, final class and grading this week for school, booking a NYC fortnight full of childcare and meetings, and continued juggling of a massive exhibit idea that I envisioned a month ago (which will take over years of my life).

Though it was bumped for impeachment radio coverage, I did my interview this morning via phone while looking out the window at deer feeding on my back lawn. Since they've already eaten all of my plants, I don't know what they find so delicious in my grass and leaves, but they always hang out because I don't have fences. To help me survive the next few days, I roasted root veggies and re-read the poem I saw yesterday on the storefront window of the bakery:

Maybe Ohio Needs

Ohio needs three active volcanoes.
Ohio needs three jungles.
Ohio needs three bustling cities.
Ohio needs three blizzards a year.
Ohio needs three emerald mines.
Ohio needs three world-known jazz bands.
Ohio needs three huge jack-o-lanterns.
But maybe, just maybe,
Ohio needs just one
insecure and immature
kid like me.

Daylon Mason
7th Grade Student
Langston Middle School