Bizzilions of Hours

 

I am working on my ten bizzilion hours of floor time.

It made me recall the years of art school. Students in the Fine Art department were required to rack up studio hours. Drawing, three days per week, minimum, all afternoon, three or four hour sessions in the drawing studio. It all adds up to ten bizzilion hours. (This is why I did not major in math..) Life drawing from the model. There were "critiques" now and then, but for the most part it was just do a drawing, do another drawing, do another, etc. We used newsprint and did so much of this that self criticism fell away from sheer numbness, and the time was a blur after awhile. It just became a meditation. One could see, without judgment, that improvement was taking place, but one was too tired to care. This...is training. It is exactly like what a dancer needs to do. They must learn to walk before someone lets them loose to throw boleos around.

Funny how it all reminds me of tango.

Right now: Those studio hours.

Training, quiet mind, lots of time. Just one dance after another. And also, dealing with neurotic people in the business and just stepping very carefully over the mine field which is art, and dance. Also, being too tired to care.

Today in the studio those hours of drawing (which must be maintained) are serving me well. With quiet mind, not judgment, I can let go of perspective and line quality and other formalities and just let the thing go to serve a vision which is sometimes just a whiff of life, a little glance sideways into life, and a view through a little window into the world behind the world.


At night, at the milongas, I just put in the miles, check in with posture, relaxation, my partner, try to confront these things in much the way I confront that white paper in the studio. Quiet mind. Then go.

Dances with Gremlins

I want to post some interesting stuff, I really do. Interesting stuff has been going on all week and deserves some space. However:

It is pretty astonishing to me how many things went wrong, broke, or failed this week:
We had to buy a new washer, because the very nice one that still seemed new, died.
It cost 90. dollars to find out that it died, and 2000. to buy a new one with a dryer to match, because the old dryer was about to die too.

The hard drive died. I don't know what this means, but all the pictures of my artwork and our entire family history, are somewhere in outer space now.

The steering on the car died. Need new power steering doodad. I don't know how much this costs.

The trunk of the car would not open yesterday, because there was a demon inside holding it closed and laughing at me. This demon also could have been responsible for the furnace in the house deciding to stop as of yesterday morning. People in Redmond are wondering who is that crazy woman screaming at her car trunk.

The mattress on the bed got so old that I could not walk in the morning because I was all bent out of shape from sleeping in a trough. New mattress had to be acquired. A good one.

We have a rental house in Seattle, with nice renters, who have had to tell us that the washer died, and when this was being replaced, Alan discovered that the hot water heater was leaking, and had to be replaced. All this after buying them a new dishwasher because the old one died. I think some other things are broken but it is all a blur now. If they are not broken they will be soon.

What next? All I know is that my family is well, we are all still working...My new work is going to be at the Portland Art Museum Spring Show. And not only that but I am inspired and have a whole string of good and rich ideas. I am going to Oregon to visit my Mom. I feel fabulous after sleeping on the new bed, and spring is around the corner. Take that, you gremlins!

Javier Rodriguez:

It's been viewed by many already, but it is a good one to go back to...especially the part about typical tango women...not dancers, milongueras. They give me goose bumps.

ava hetzel dirtbike movie

This is my grand kid, Ava. She can also tango.

Spring Tango with Daffodils

A serigraph (silk screen print) on Arches 88, in 17 colors, ed. of 10. 25.5 x 18. March 2009.

Not Dinking Around

Several of the tango bloggers have just quit writing. A few new ones have arrived. I never meant to be a blogger with tango as a subject, but of course it just takes over one's life.

I am working in the studio like crazy and producing work, a series of screen prints (serigraphs) again. It just feels great, like going home. But since I can't just repeat myself, and because now I have all this new stuff to express....the work is changing. I think the blog is changing too, back to it's original pupose, of recording the work.

Dance is more integrated into life, and into the art. That took a long time. Malcolm Gladwell was interviewed on Charlie Rose and talked about the concept of 10,000 hours. That's how long it takes to get some mastery of something. I have been printmaking, and painting for thirty years. Not dinking around, but doing it all the time. I used to print a color, change a diaper, and take out the diaper and the screen cleaning paper towels to the trash at the same time. (So I guess I got mastery of changing diapers too!) The kids were my studio companions and their school schedule was my work schedule. Now, with no kids in the house I actually have to be more strict with myself about the work time. Anyone who thinks it gets better when the kids grow up..you may as well just quit using them for the excuse!

As far as the 10.000 hours and dance. I think I am about half way there, but of course, it is different. Some people have been dancing a hell of a long time but they aren't learning anything anymore. I still want to get better, plan to get better, and plan to stay sane and happy doing it.

I have some young friends new to tango and I watch them sort of suffer through all the crap that goes with it. I wonder, how does one navigate through the crap to get to the sweet part? I think there are a lot of creepy guys, aggressive women, bad teachers, stupid ideas, and other demons along the way. I feel like it never ends, but that one gets a lot smarter, and more perceptive. Building community is the best defense, without being exclusive, just make your world around you and cook a lot of steak and buy wine by the case, keep your abrazos strong, and the guest room, or couch, ready.

Anyway, I wanted to post my huge tango ceramic piece, but it is too big to put on the wall I had for it...doh. So maybe I will hang it up temporarily in the studio so that I can get a good picture of it. Back to work.
New (to me) Tango bloggers:
http://pantina-tangotimes.blogspot.com/
http://www.adrianapalanca.com/

And a great read about real tango in BA, should be interesting to anyone...
http://jantango.wordpress.com/

More About Work

Making art is not enough, if one is to have a career. Ideas, statements, and words, are necessary for the people who make careers for artists. They need them. It is important for historical purpose, they say, to have the context. Work is seen through the lens of personal and world events.

Such a writer person was telling me that women artists can be difficult in this regard. They will not always be eager to talk of the personal as it meshes (messes) with the work. I know why this is, at least from my perspective, and I tried to convey it. I keep work and personal life apart for very practical reasons. I could not possibly get anything accomplished otherwise. Well, my writer friend says this is fine if you don't care about being known. But I do want to be known. I feel obligated to nurture my work. It really is my life after all. Work does not thrive in the closet.

As I was working and mothering small children, some gallery dealers would not take me seriously if they knew about the kids. Women were expected to do one thing or the other. Men could have wives, lovers, kids all over the place. In fact it was an enhancement to the image. Not so for women. One more reason to keep the personal and the studio life well separated.
Another reason for withholding or not offering the information is that women are still judged so harshly for having interesting lives. Maybe some of you have noticed, that women who promote themselves in any transparent way (in dance, work, life) are generally thought of with distain.

Writer friend says the men she interviews for her books are more open in general about the personal. I really doubt it though. They just have a story worked out, and they are prouder of it. The trouble with any story is that after awhile, it becomes an uncomfortable definition, and over time, it is just a padded resume. It is important for the subject to be able to disregard it. It is a mistake to believe one's own propaganda.

For me to work with the figure is for me to convey myself. I feel, working with a loaded brush in a long stroke painting the curve of the hip, the arabesque of the thigh, that I am feeling that brush, that it is a painting by and of myself. No man can paint a woman this way, from the internal knowing of that place which is life. However he has taken women into his life, he still must remain the viewer. A male painter paints a plum on a plate, I am the plum on the plate.

I understand that the writer must find some context, but it always takes me a step outside of my actual work and the actual real motivation whenever I have to consider the external events. I am an artist, and I was born one, and I remain convinced that I would do this no matter what was going on, and that just going to work is all that really matters.

But my thought is, that if I am essentially painting myself, why does it matter at any given decade, who I live with, what my family situation is, where I live or travel, or what the hell is going on in politics or other things in a world that is actually very far outside of what is going on in the studio? This may be a female view, and an isolationist view, but it is the only one that I can honestly claim.

Right now I am enjoying the work of Mayumi Oda. Her Buddhist and feminist themes run strong. Her women are all goddesses with personality. They are not objects. Also I am in love with the work of a Montana artist, the late Rudy Autio. Right now it is pretty obvious that tango has influenced the work, and made me much more interested in the figure, and in the charged space between the figure, and of how the fragmented figure might create rhythms in space. But talking about that does not illuminate. Only the work does.

I cannot keep up with the art scene so much, being too busy making it and trying very hard to figure out how to stay on course. I would like to have more social contact in that world again, but the people would have to learn to dance! I am lucky, I get to make art, and even to sell it, and to work full time. On occasion I have had the stimulating and charming experience of teaching, pretty much when I want to. Whatever happens in my life day to day has to be a support as I continue to nurture both the art and the career. This is the time.

P.S. Another influential artist: Betty Woodman, ceramic artist.

The non-negotiables....

I told myself I could meet a deadline for delivery of artwork, continue to dance at least three nights per week, maybe two, and could socialize with friends in and out of town, (because they are my lifeline). Wrong. My body is telling me to take it easy. The delivery of the artwork is non negotiable. The care of the house and the smooth running of the home front, for both of us, is non-negotiable. I wish I could do everything.
At least I try. Some people seem to be able to do it all. I am not one of them. Dammit.