There's a chance I will be attending university in Beijing, getting a Masters in Fine Arts.
The plus to the particular school I'm looking into is the Vice President. It's Xu Bing! one of my favorite Chinese artists. When I saw that this morning I nearly flipped. Also, I happen to have the contact information for an art professor there who I believe is a Baha'i, which means he is friends with some people I met in Beijing over the summer who know my family there.
It would be a challenge, studying in another country. Classes are in Mandarin, but there is likely a requirement to study more Chinese before I could take the classes...if I'm accepted. It's the most prestigious art program in China and the art world is exciting there right now. I could go to the 798 art district as much as I want.
They have all the regular mediums--printmaking, oil painting, sculpture, drawing, design as well as traditional and experimental arts. It could be an exciting adventure and next step in, well, life.
Fingers crossed I guess.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
sweet dreams
I dreamt I was back in the art department with everyone...Katie Borden, Moerrik, Maryann, Vanessa, Dominic...and next door a painter friend was opening up a chocolate shop.
It was night. The streets were wet with a recent rain, the street lamps were letting off orbs of yellow, comforting light.
I helped her open her shop.
And went to the opening. A ton of people came. It was like a gallery opening reception, but the food wasn't free, and it was all varying forms of sugar.
Behind the cash registers were shelves to the ceiling filled with different forms of chocolate...chocolate bunnies, huge chunks of dark, milk, and white chocolate from enormous chocolate bars wrapped in cellophane, rows and rows of truffles, cups of chocolate filled with mousse or whipped cream, chocolate covered coffee beans and nuts in plastic bags tied with a bow. It was beautiful.
The walls were painted peach and the employees had matching one-piece jumper skirts taut around the waist with a belt. They had on white tights and had aprons where they put important things like money and pens.
The store was built on a slant. The registers and rows of chocolate goods were at the top, beside the glass doors. The booths were built on the slant, leading down to a desk in the back.
During the opening they had a game. Everyone horded around the back table, requesting something like airheads without wrapping and stacked into a "sandwhich." You asked for certain flavors, or a pre-invented 3 part combination named on the back board, like "love" or "bubble gum" or "orange sunrise." They mostly tasted sour and they were difficult to chew, sticking to my teeth making my face tired. But I was determined to buy a lot, so I did. I in fact bought and ate so many that I eventually won a prize. One of the employees took me to the side, where a small couch was sitting in the middle of a room. She told me we had to find the green teddy bear so that I could claim the prize. She picked up a gift bag resting on the couch and looked inside and under it. That was all the effort she was willing to make. She wasn't very altruistic. I decided that wasn't enough of a search, so I lifted the couch cushions and found it tucked under there, a small thread sewn to the pillow. I ripped it off.
She didn't actually know what the prize was, but I was happy to have it.
Then the shop was closing and I said I would surely be back. In my mind, I feared the shop wasn't going to make it. I assumed people would only be interested in the opening, then stop coming.
Moe and I were walking home together, up the hill from the shop. It was a difficult walk and it was cold and dark, but I realized I hadn't gone to see the gallery show just beside the shop, so we turned around heading back to see it.
Then I woke up, afraid I had actually had all of that sugar during the night. Thankfully not.
It was night. The streets were wet with a recent rain, the street lamps were letting off orbs of yellow, comforting light.
I helped her open her shop.
And went to the opening. A ton of people came. It was like a gallery opening reception, but the food wasn't free, and it was all varying forms of sugar.
Behind the cash registers were shelves to the ceiling filled with different forms of chocolate...chocolate bunnies, huge chunks of dark, milk, and white chocolate from enormous chocolate bars wrapped in cellophane, rows and rows of truffles, cups of chocolate filled with mousse or whipped cream, chocolate covered coffee beans and nuts in plastic bags tied with a bow. It was beautiful.
The walls were painted peach and the employees had matching one-piece jumper skirts taut around the waist with a belt. They had on white tights and had aprons where they put important things like money and pens.
The store was built on a slant. The registers and rows of chocolate goods were at the top, beside the glass doors. The booths were built on the slant, leading down to a desk in the back.
During the opening they had a game. Everyone horded around the back table, requesting something like airheads without wrapping and stacked into a "sandwhich." You asked for certain flavors, or a pre-invented 3 part combination named on the back board, like "love" or "bubble gum" or "orange sunrise." They mostly tasted sour and they were difficult to chew, sticking to my teeth making my face tired. But I was determined to buy a lot, so I did. I in fact bought and ate so many that I eventually won a prize. One of the employees took me to the side, where a small couch was sitting in the middle of a room. She told me we had to find the green teddy bear so that I could claim the prize. She picked up a gift bag resting on the couch and looked inside and under it. That was all the effort she was willing to make. She wasn't very altruistic. I decided that wasn't enough of a search, so I lifted the couch cushions and found it tucked under there, a small thread sewn to the pillow. I ripped it off.
She didn't actually know what the prize was, but I was happy to have it.
Then the shop was closing and I said I would surely be back. In my mind, I feared the shop wasn't going to make it. I assumed people would only be interested in the opening, then stop coming.
Moe and I were walking home together, up the hill from the shop. It was a difficult walk and it was cold and dark, but I realized I hadn't gone to see the gallery show just beside the shop, so we turned around heading back to see it.
Then I woke up, afraid I had actually had all of that sugar during the night. Thankfully not.
Monday, December 15, 2008
a variety
So I'm in New Mexico now.
I arrived the other day. My two flights were delayed, the first by three hours, the second by one, making the total hours of the journey about 12. That's not necessarily a complaint though, because I enjoy airports. A lot.
I got a lot of reading done, and saw some interesting people. This is depressing, but I wrote it down from Invisibly Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk-my travelling read
"Besides, it happens so fast for some people and slow for some, accidents or gravity, but we all end up mutilated. Most women know this feeling of being more and more invisible every day."
It reminded me of Synecdoche, NY when Philip Seymour Hoffman is in the cart driving, passing the time as he is waiting and approaching his death.
On another note, it's good to see mom and dad. Oddly, it feels like I saw them last week even though it's actually been nearly half of a year. I think that means I'm maturing, or it means I'm losing touch with reality.
Maybe both?
Today we chatted, had coffee, found the Georgia O'Keefe book still packed in a box, ate New Mexican food, talked with the family who provided us with that food, had more coffee, went to the grocery store, watched Coffee and Cigarettes, then watched a series of other things.
Oh, and just found out Matthew Barney and Bjork are possibly broken up. That's both heartbreaking and relieving. So much genius fused together at once seems dangerous, it's probably better they're seperate to diffuse some of it to other parts of the globe.
Also, during and for a few hours after reading through some of Georgia O'Keefe's letters, I became very sad. She chose to move from NY to NM to almost escape civilization. She was generally happy in her independence, but loved a man still in NY and had close friends there. Through her letters you could feel her longing to be with them struggling against the ease she felt where she had settled. It made me miss certain people and I couldn't help but combine her emotion with what I've got on my own, amplifying my feelings to an unreasonable degree.
Anyway, I appreciate and admire her honesty with the people she loved. That's something I hope I have somewhat acheived so far and want to build upon with years...becoming more invisible to the world as it loves me less, and the world becoming more visible to me as I love it more.
I arrived the other day. My two flights were delayed, the first by three hours, the second by one, making the total hours of the journey about 12. That's not necessarily a complaint though, because I enjoy airports. A lot.
I got a lot of reading done, and saw some interesting people. This is depressing, but I wrote it down from Invisibly Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk-my travelling read
"Besides, it happens so fast for some people and slow for some, accidents or gravity, but we all end up mutilated. Most women know this feeling of being more and more invisible every day."
It reminded me of Synecdoche, NY when Philip Seymour Hoffman is in the cart driving, passing the time as he is waiting and approaching his death.
On another note, it's good to see mom and dad. Oddly, it feels like I saw them last week even though it's actually been nearly half of a year. I think that means I'm maturing, or it means I'm losing touch with reality.
Maybe both?
Today we chatted, had coffee, found the Georgia O'Keefe book still packed in a box, ate New Mexican food, talked with the family who provided us with that food, had more coffee, went to the grocery store, watched Coffee and Cigarettes, then watched a series of other things.
Oh, and just found out Matthew Barney and Bjork are possibly broken up. That's both heartbreaking and relieving. So much genius fused together at once seems dangerous, it's probably better they're seperate to diffuse some of it to other parts of the globe.
Also, during and for a few hours after reading through some of Georgia O'Keefe's letters, I became very sad. She chose to move from NY to NM to almost escape civilization. She was generally happy in her independence, but loved a man still in NY and had close friends there. Through her letters you could feel her longing to be with them struggling against the ease she felt where she had settled. It made me miss certain people and I couldn't help but combine her emotion with what I've got on my own, amplifying my feelings to an unreasonable degree.
Anyway, I appreciate and admire her honesty with the people she loved. That's something I hope I have somewhat acheived so far and want to build upon with years...becoming more invisible to the world as it loves me less, and the world becoming more visible to me as I love it more.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
once again
The full moon is out tonight.
I expect and hope to blog tomorrow about something crazy that will have happened in the coming hours...
I expect and hope to blog tomorrow about something crazy that will have happened in the coming hours...
a portion of last night's dream--a long memory
The part that really stood out last night was when I was at some sort of play or convention, sitting in the audience.
They began handing out gift bags that were made of thick malleable transparent plastic zipped shut and in the shape of women's pregnant bellies. They were so full of toys, the imprint of their parts were pushing against the walls of the bag and deforming its shape. The toys were all colors.
I unzipped the bag and began shuffling through my gifts. They were amazing. Mostly they were little plastic toys. I remember a motorcycle, a bugs bunny, an oddly shaped other bunny, and the famous something-or-other character that I never looked at and never touched, but knew was in my bag and was the central figure of this event.
As I sat there excitedly continuing to shuffle through my things, Rachelle (an acquaintance and a painter) walked by eager to find where her gift bag was. She looked around and then spoke to a man standing in front of the table I was sitting at. He said "sorry we're all out. we don't have enough for everyone." Knowing her, and seeing her disappointment, I felt guilty. I thought about it for a moment, debating what would feel best, then said "Hey Rachelle, come here. (motioning to my bag) See, this is what they gave us, a bag full of toys."
"Does it have the something-or-other figure in it??!"
"Yeah, I think it does. But I don't care about that guy all that much. You can have it. Also, you can have the motorcycle that he rides."
"Really? Cool. Thanks."
She went from flustered and angry to pleasant and suggested we play together afterwards. She explained that her walk home is like a journey and there are many places you must travel through to arrive there.
I agreed to come.
She lead me on a trail outside of the building, up a muddy hill. The mud went on forever. We were both in shorts and no shoes so the mud was slapping all over our legs. I could feel it squishing between my toes, and struggled against the resistance of a wet ground moving under my feet as I tried to push and propel myself up this hill. It was difficult. And she was far ahead. The sun was setting and the sky was a deep orange with some pinks.
We finally reached the top of the hill and immediately she began rolling on her side down the very steep slope. It was nearly a cliff, and on this side it was sand. She suddenly was naked and I watched her rolling all the way down to the bottom. Her hair was flaring every direction and she was rolling so fast her body was bouncing and jolting violently. She got up and smiled at the end of it, looking up expecting me to do the same.
I decided to ride down on my butt. It worked surprisingly well, for sand.
After riding down the hill we walked into the back of a building. We were in China or Chinatown. It was a busy street and night had arrived. The street was heavily lit by decorative hanging lights and lamp posts. Everyone was moving around quickly and we had to push our way through forcefully to get anywhere. We were looking for a store sign that had a cross on it, because we needed to find the church. This was a step in the path she took home every night, but she seemed very unfamiliar with it.
We walked along the street looking up at all of the signs with their busy words and beaming lights. I was getting frustrated, not being able to read any of it, realizing it wasn't Chinese, but a conglomeration of multiple languages. I also realized everyone around us were not Chinese, but from everywhere. People were wearing their traditional garb. I saw lots of African people wearing colorful head wraps and dresses and people with turbans and full beards. We kept walking, and finally turned the corner, to find the cross on a green sign mixed in with ambiguous text.
We walked in, but it was a shopping mall, not a church. We walked to a counter where a woman was doing a beauty thing like manicures or using hair spray. Rachelle knew her well. They chatted but I didn't understand. I was beginning to feel left out. I turned around to check out the new environment we were in. I turned back to face the beauty woman with her feet resting on the glass case in front of her, busy filing her nails. Rachelle had disappeared. It was just me and this woman with a spotlight beaming on us. Everything around was dark. She didn't look up at me. I thought to look behind the large mirror against the wall beside her. I pulled on the edge of it and it opened. I opened it too hard too fast and it knocked some of the woman's things over. One of them was a pink bottle of nail paint remover. I apologized, embarrassed to have disturbed her, thinking she must hate me more now. I looked in to a small unlit space, and looked down to see a hot tub bubbling over and wafting cozy heat at me. In the tub were Rachelle and three other people, all fully immersed with just their faces exposed, clothe covering their eyes and earplugs in. Somebody made the thought, you should come in and join us. (They didn't say it. They thought it, and I heard it.) I closed the mirror and stepped back.
Somebody was there, maybe. It could have been another me. I looked to it and said grudgingly "I don't want to go in there. I don't know what they're doing. I thought we were going somewhere. Ughhh," while thinking "that hot tub looked nice."
Then a next door neighbor was yelling and I woke up.
They began handing out gift bags that were made of thick malleable transparent plastic zipped shut and in the shape of women's pregnant bellies. They were so full of toys, the imprint of their parts were pushing against the walls of the bag and deforming its shape. The toys were all colors.
I unzipped the bag and began shuffling through my gifts. They were amazing. Mostly they were little plastic toys. I remember a motorcycle, a bugs bunny, an oddly shaped other bunny, and the famous something-or-other character that I never looked at and never touched, but knew was in my bag and was the central figure of this event.
As I sat there excitedly continuing to shuffle through my things, Rachelle (an acquaintance and a painter) walked by eager to find where her gift bag was. She looked around and then spoke to a man standing in front of the table I was sitting at. He said "sorry we're all out. we don't have enough for everyone." Knowing her, and seeing her disappointment, I felt guilty. I thought about it for a moment, debating what would feel best, then said "Hey Rachelle, come here. (motioning to my bag) See, this is what they gave us, a bag full of toys."
"Does it have the something-or-other figure in it??!"
"Yeah, I think it does. But I don't care about that guy all that much. You can have it. Also, you can have the motorcycle that he rides."
"Really? Cool. Thanks."
She went from flustered and angry to pleasant and suggested we play together afterwards. She explained that her walk home is like a journey and there are many places you must travel through to arrive there.
I agreed to come.
She lead me on a trail outside of the building, up a muddy hill. The mud went on forever. We were both in shorts and no shoes so the mud was slapping all over our legs. I could feel it squishing between my toes, and struggled against the resistance of a wet ground moving under my feet as I tried to push and propel myself up this hill. It was difficult. And she was far ahead. The sun was setting and the sky was a deep orange with some pinks.
We finally reached the top of the hill and immediately she began rolling on her side down the very steep slope. It was nearly a cliff, and on this side it was sand. She suddenly was naked and I watched her rolling all the way down to the bottom. Her hair was flaring every direction and she was rolling so fast her body was bouncing and jolting violently. She got up and smiled at the end of it, looking up expecting me to do the same.
I decided to ride down on my butt. It worked surprisingly well, for sand.
After riding down the hill we walked into the back of a building. We were in China or Chinatown. It was a busy street and night had arrived. The street was heavily lit by decorative hanging lights and lamp posts. Everyone was moving around quickly and we had to push our way through forcefully to get anywhere. We were looking for a store sign that had a cross on it, because we needed to find the church. This was a step in the path she took home every night, but she seemed very unfamiliar with it.
We walked along the street looking up at all of the signs with their busy words and beaming lights. I was getting frustrated, not being able to read any of it, realizing it wasn't Chinese, but a conglomeration of multiple languages. I also realized everyone around us were not Chinese, but from everywhere. People were wearing their traditional garb. I saw lots of African people wearing colorful head wraps and dresses and people with turbans and full beards. We kept walking, and finally turned the corner, to find the cross on a green sign mixed in with ambiguous text.
We walked in, but it was a shopping mall, not a church. We walked to a counter where a woman was doing a beauty thing like manicures or using hair spray. Rachelle knew her well. They chatted but I didn't understand. I was beginning to feel left out. I turned around to check out the new environment we were in. I turned back to face the beauty woman with her feet resting on the glass case in front of her, busy filing her nails. Rachelle had disappeared. It was just me and this woman with a spotlight beaming on us. Everything around was dark. She didn't look up at me. I thought to look behind the large mirror against the wall beside her. I pulled on the edge of it and it opened. I opened it too hard too fast and it knocked some of the woman's things over. One of them was a pink bottle of nail paint remover. I apologized, embarrassed to have disturbed her, thinking she must hate me more now. I looked in to a small unlit space, and looked down to see a hot tub bubbling over and wafting cozy heat at me. In the tub were Rachelle and three other people, all fully immersed with just their faces exposed, clothe covering their eyes and earplugs in. Somebody made the thought, you should come in and join us. (They didn't say it. They thought it, and I heard it.) I closed the mirror and stepped back.
Somebody was there, maybe. It could have been another me. I looked to it and said grudgingly "I don't want to go in there. I don't know what they're doing. I thought we were going somewhere. Ughhh," while thinking "that hot tub looked nice."
Then a next door neighbor was yelling and I woke up.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Put those moody teens on pills!
I just glanced at my hotmail home page and there was an article headline that read
"Brooding Teens: Are They Mentally Ill or Just Moody?"
"You know honey, Johnny has been real mean to me lately. He's been slamming his bedroom door and stomping around the house after we get in fights."
"Oh I know shnookums. He's also been calling me crude things and refusing to do his chores. The other night he even came home an hour and a half past the curfew we've set for him. You know, why might consider the possibility that he is mentally ill."
"To tell you the truth honey, I was thinking the same thing. He probably is insane. We should put him on some medication."
...
"Brooding Teens: Are They Mentally Ill or Just Moody?"
"You know honey, Johnny has been real mean to me lately. He's been slamming his bedroom door and stomping around the house after we get in fights."
"Oh I know shnookums. He's also been calling me crude things and refusing to do his chores. The other night he even came home an hour and a half past the curfew we've set for him. You know, why might consider the possibility that he is mentally ill."
"To tell you the truth honey, I was thinking the same thing. He probably is insane. We should put him on some medication."
...
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