Thesis presentation

Friday I presented my thesis. Here's my artist statement and exhibition. It's been an exciting semester and an exhausting project, but extremely rewarding. I've used minerals as abstract forms of portraiture. My mother is represented by Wulfenite, I'm represented by rhodochrosite, and my brother is represented by malachite. My combined relationships are represented by botryoidal hematite. Enjoy.

In my art I am examining my relationships with my brother and my mother. I am examining how the event of my mother’s stroke when I was eight affected those relationships and my childhood. I am also looking at how the stroke led to a period of difficulty between my brother and me. I am deconstructing what made those relationships fall apart and the superficiality of memory.

Just as memory is inconsistent and augmented by time, so too is my usage of different media. I alternate between oil paints, and different printmaking technique, and canvas and different base materials. This constant change allows me to concentrate on each piece and what it means to the overall narrative and personal mythology that I’ve created. Likewise the different techniques require different amounts of time to make, referring to how understanding develops at different rates.

I use a combination of collage and a time line based presentation style to allow for continued interpretation of the subject matter. Each piece leads in some way to another and inspires another, but in what ways it is not immediately apparent.

Malachite and you

Blooming ovals of undulating green-shaded envy twist and turn, evolving,
An understanding commencing out of misinterpreted perceptions.
With every grain of my soul, I harbored a hate so virulent as to consume my whole existence.
Now grains smoothed into a fine sheen gleam.
And you, I finally, see my brother.

-Based off a new painting...

Inspirational moments and realizations

Today I heard photographer Michael Kolster speak to a few of my fellow art students and professors at my school. Kolster's been keeping a daily photo blog since 2002. It's impressive and inspirational. He spoke about it as a project so second nature to him now that it was like breathing. I want an exercise like that. Journaling used to be like that for me. Writing has always been an easier exercise for me than making art. Once I start writing my mind goes on all sorts of tangents, and I just go with it. I've always felt that my writing came from somewhere that existed within me pressing outward. The words were mine, but inspired by something greater, something within that I don't always realize is there. I might have said before, but it's only within the last year that I've started really considering myself an artist. I've always considered myself artistic, but not worthy of the title artist. Now I'm trying this identity on and trying to figure out if its one that I want to own. Do I have a choice?

About his speech:

It was amazing. In my own art I've been exploring the passage of time in my own life and considering the inconsistency of memory through displaying my work in linear and non-linear ways, including collaging the different pieces. In his photos he was examining the passage of time through a linear and collage based display style. I asked him about his usage of white space and gutters to separate his photos. His photos are like windows into the wonderment and the gutters act like the window frames. He said he uses the gutters to make the viewer realize the farce that is the photograph. I asked him if he ever considered using different sized photos near each other, as that is sort of what I'm trying to decide about displaying my minerals and pieces. He said not at the moment because he is trying to reference the window frame and the uniformity of the frames helps do this. I think the uniformity forces more comparisons, which is one reason I've been displaying my mineral series in a line, and his answer only made me think the consistency of the mineral prints is important. Each one is very similar, yet unique. It was great to see that idea paralleled through photography and got me thinking that maybe one reason I love the project I'm working on so much, and one of the reasons I've been so happy with the way the minerals turned out, is that they really do show a progression through time, just as my journals and photographs have.

When I started taking photos when I was younger it was because I wanted to have images that would inspire my mom to start making art again. Twelve years after my mothers stroke, she's finally started making art again, although the small drawings and watercolors are nowhere near the scale that her oil paintings used to be. Now I've become the artist. Now the images that I was taking for her, are for me. Now I realize somewhere along the way I stopped taking photographs for her and started taking them for myself. Now I realize I never used to feel like the artist, why I've been more comfortable using words in the past. Words are concrete. While they may be interpreted in many ways depending on their combinations, I sense solidity and reliability in their structures. In my photography I always had a machine, a viewfinder and a frame protecting me.

I've always thought I had a bit of an ambivalent relationship with time, and change. I'm only now realizing that my fear and hatred of change, which I so wisely thought I'd outgrown when I was fifteen, probably has its roots in the instability of my childhood. Could have had a V8! I guess that's the cliché beauty of growing up. I feel like I'm predestined to be where I am. It's a strange and incalculable feeling. Sometimes it feels like its part of a greater conviction. I just have to keep asking myself whether I want to be an artist who is a journalist, or a journalist who is also an artist. [Why can't I be both?!] I'm just now getting to a point with my art that I'm feel the same way about it as I do about my words. It's thrilling, but a little unnerving. It's as if I've finally found my visual voice and there is so much I want to say that I'm struggling to say it all without sounding incoherent and trite. That may be the challenge for every artist. How do we say something new? How do we say something meaningful? Does what we create as artists, writers, musicians, etc. have to mean anything to anybody but ourselves? Does what we make have intrinsic meaning and value, or do only certain works qualify? I don't know. These are just a few of the questions I've been mulling over.

Sometimes I wonder if we all think about meaning too much. Sometimes I think I've been getting a little preoccupied with the that kind of wondering. Sometimes a pretty picture, a beautiful moment, a funny pun, are just what they appear to be. There is goodness around me that sometimes I miss because of my preoccupations, because of my schedules, because of my Work, with a capital W. I remember reading Hermann Hesse's "Siddhartha" freshman year of high school and how the river is the symbol of the constancy of change. One can try to resist, but the river wears us all down eventually. Kolster referenced this principle and I smirked because this is a truth I knew, but had temporarily forgotten to acknowledge. We are where we are for a reason.

Hearing Kolster speak today, I was reminded that the daily appreciation of wonder, of oddity, of life, is essential to my sanity. Here's his blog: http://dailypost.bowdoin.edu/

A London night a year ago...                       Nov. 1, 2010, Elizabeth Ygartua

Warhol musings and page designs

I just finished reading "The Philosophy of Andy Warhol," by Andy Warhol, and what I've garnered is that I'm not the only one in this world whose brain functions erratically. Should have guessed that really. Here are a few of the quotes that made me think, hmmm... I could have said the same thing.
 "I try to think of what time is and all I can think is...  Time is time was." (109)

"Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, 'So what.' That's one of my favorite things to say. 'So what.'" (112)

"Space is all one space and thought is all one thought,  but my mind divides its spaces into spaces into spaces and thoughts into thoughts into thoughts. Like a large condominium." (143)

When I read this one I was really freaked out. I've always imagined that I have a small version of myself who acts as the secretary of my thoughts. There are several file cabinets filled with my memories and in the middle on top of woven-oval rug is a worn rocking chair. Whenever I can't recall something exactly, during tests and otherwise, I imagine the little secretary goes through the cabinets trying to find what I'm trying to remember.

In other news, I just found out that another one of our front pages that I submitted to the Associated Collegiate Press are featured on their Flicker account. :D I'm so proud of the work my staff has done this year, and how that has allowed us to create interesting designs. I'm glad that they're so open to my suggestions and designs. It's been a long road getting to this point with The Collegian. It's just so satisfying to see the paper getting better in a tangible way. Here's a few of the pages I did the layout for that I was really happy with. The centerspread was my baby. I did everything on that page, and while it took forever, I'm happy with the result.

Update: What I've been up to

Hi internet. I've sorely neglected this blog this semester, but I have a good reason. Well, sort of.

Here's what I've been up to:

Editing and managing the newspaper: I'm so proud of the work my staffers have been doing this semester, but the job definitely sucks up my sleeping/living time. I've also been writing for the paper, which is fun since I haven't really written for a newspaper since high school. I can't believe I've been working on newspapers for eight years now. Yeah for Tribal Tribune memories.
Check out our latest work at http://thecollegianur.com/

Cleaning up after art students: Why can't people clean up after themselves? I don't know, but at least their sloppiness provides me with a job.

Classes: This should maybe be the most important time vampire in my life, whoops.

Thesis is going well, I'm just not getting enough work done. I'm really inspired by what I am doing, which is a plus. If only life were less-complicated... but then it might not be as interesting. I'll post more about thesis soon, including some photos.

Just for fun, here's a photo I edited for my photojournalism class of the walkway between the modern and older building of the National Gallery of Art. I edited it some just for fun.

I've got to go do some art now, so T.T.F.N.

Long time no post...

I have been sorely neglecting my posting responsibilities, but only because I've had an influx of other responsibilities in my life since my last posting. I've become EIC of my college newspaper, designed my school lit magazine, finished my junior year, and proposed and completed a series of prints for a summer fellowship.

This coming year is going to be so hectic, but also fun. I'm going to be working on my thesis for studio art, putting together a body of work and then presenting those pieces in a show in the spring. I'll also be writing, editing, and managing the school newspaper.

Which is to say, if I seem to be ignoring this blog, I'm sorry.

This spring and summer have been fantastic. I've really seen an evolution in my artwork and it's been so exciting. I've been experimenting with new print-making techniques: line etching, aquatint, mezzo-tint, soft-ground etching, hard-ground etching, sugar-lift, and dry-point. I've also been working on making a series of wire rings, and oil paintings.

For my print-making fellowship I created a series of prints exploring the characteristics of design, including color, shape, and texture, that allow us to recognize and classify different minerals.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I spent the spring semester creating a series paintings based on stages of depression as I experiences them. The first in the series is still listed in the previous post, the rest are below.

Here's a few photos of what I've been working on...

Agate Stone
sugar-lift

Wulfenite
mezzotint

Manganite
mezzotint, line-etching, sugar-lift

Botryoidal Hematite
dry-point, soft-ground etch

Galena
aquatint, line-etching

A childhood self-portrait
oil on canvas

Portrait of my brother
oil on canvas

Girl on King-Arthur's Seat
oil on canvas

 Depression Series: Neurotic disparity
Acrylic, Liquitex, paint pen

Depression Series: Regression
acrylic, rope pieces, Liquitex mediums

Depression Series: Recovery

Acrylic on canvas

T.T.F.N.

The timbre of the road

I'm suspended, briefly, in a sort of in between,
unknown grief and joy yet encountered,
while day disappears and the sound of rubber on road, engine revving then slowing, as diesel pumps furtively to compete with the anxious lead foot of our driver, the murmurs of the crew of expectant travelers, lulls my eyes into a dreary routine.

My eyes open and shut in languid denial of the soothing timbre of the road.
The road.
Respite.
You don't know this, but I keep falling asleep.

Written back in Feb.

21st Century Memorials

Once we went to cemeteries and laid flowers, photographs, notes, and other mementos on the graves of those we've lost in an attempt to reconnect, remember and cope. Of course that ritual might have happened once a year, or every few years.

Now we have what feels like a more personal way of connecting to the deceased that exists outside the physical realm and that's immediately accessible.

Today people who have died are kept alive in a way I think Mark Zuckerberg could not have anticipated, via their Facebook pages.

When one of my friends died a couple years ago her friends and family immediately started posting photos, memories, and little notes on her Facebook page. At the time I found it sort of heart breaking because she could no longer respond. Now I understand the true healing power this way of responding can have.

Today we can connect to those we've lost in a way that seems, at least psychologically, more tangible. That connection becomes tangible when those Facebook pages become a place where at random those who are connected by their love of, or acquaintance to, the deceased can talk about their memories of that person, or just how they're feeling. Networks develop around these pages as we help one another cope, mourn and celebrate the deceased.

Pages are maintained by family members as forums, as living memorials. When I think about my friends, my cousin, or my friends' siblings who've died I often visit their pages. I'm always surprised to see how often others do the same. I usually end up reading posts and looking at photos, and in some way feeling closer to that person and feeling healed.

There is something comforting about going to a page I know that person created, wrote on, and communicated from. It is like visiting the Lincoln Memorial in D.C. and standing on the steps where Martin Luther King, Jr. galvanized a nation towards reform. It is like visiting any place that has become sacred.

Yet, unlike other memorials, these memorials aren't to presidents, politicians, or anyone in the public sphere, and so they are particularly interesting, and personal.

The internet feels like a very permanent medium to memorialize someone. It will be interesting to see how these living memorials fair time. Perhaps because they are so immediately accessible they will not suffer the neglect of the desecrated, decaying and forgotten gravestones around the world.

In a way when I visit these pages I feel closer to that person than I would just visiting their grave.

I wonder what future generations will do with these pages, these posts. Will they better remember, and understand how those history usually passes over, the youth who used Facebook when they were just beginning to define themselves, and the unknown environmentalist, affected others and in turn effected this world?

I would hope so.

For sometimes it is only in death that we truly understand the effects those we've lost have had on this world.

And they, are worth remembering.

Missing a loved one

This weekend marks the second anniversary of my cousin's suicide.

Today I spent three hours out on the James River walking along trails, sitting and sketching, and taking photos. I was there to witness a really neat environmental art project a student at my university was doing promoting awareness about the health of the watershed.

Today I took the time to remember my cousin Rachel, who loved and worked with nature.

Today was a day to remember someone who could no longer fight the disease that plagues so many of us.

Depression is a disease.

If someone you know is depressed, please let them know you love them. While they might push you away, may not respond, the truth is they need you in their lives. Be patient.

And for Rachel, my cousin, please go plant, or at least hug, a tree!

Pieces I'm working on

For my studio seminar this semester I have taken on the task of visualizing the stages of depression as I experienced them. Here are few pieces that I've been working on...

Acknowledgment, acrylic on canvas with rope

Occluded thoughts making life
thinking, processing, working
like digging under
like trying to breach
an impregnable wall,
no, not a wall
a labyrinth.
Walls seemingly slight
begging to be stepped over,
forgotten.
Not myself
at every turn
I work
slow unsteady
not winning
until acknowledgment,
and then
slow but steady
I return
from beneath
layers
levels
of well-fed lies
of my no longer deniable
Depression.


Regression, acrylic, rope shreds and acrylic mediums

I'm not sure if Regression is done yet. I haven't written a poem to accompany it either. But the idea is that you think you have escaped your depression, that you are cured forever. Then, layer by unsuspecting layer you regress as the signs of your depression return. I think this one needs a little something else. We'll see.

Time... a statement

Fleeting moments,
expected in distant futures,
come along and pass in graceful movements,
quickly becoming glistening jewels,
to be recovered on distant days,
in the perpetually flowing river of my memory.

A new semester, old Richmond, and a new me

Hello internet.
Last spring I floundered. I was deeply unhappy with where I was at school, plus I was going through some difficult self realizations and bouts of depression.

This fall I went to Copenhagen, where I was the happiest I've been, perhaps ever. Honestly, I felt like there was a huge weight lifted off my shoudlers. I bridged that gap within myself and successfully broke down the wall I had constructed around myself and within myself.

Now I've returned to Richmond. I'm happy. I'm hopeful. I'm excited. It's a new semester and I hope that I'll keep that wall demolished. I hope that I don't go back to the way I was. Because honestly I like the person I am.

In a way I became the person I always was in Copenhagen. I became or at least finally felt comfortable as just being myself. I know that sounds trite, but it's true. Whether it's because I was finally living among a society of students who just "got" me, or because I was in a country where I just "got" the people, their attitudes towards life, politics, and humanity. Or perhaps it was because I finally had enough physical distance between me and my home. And maybe, it was a combination of all those, and the fact that I went through a lot of soul searching last spring and summer. Only God knows.

But regardless of why and how, I'm glad. I'm glad that I'm me. I'm glad that I've finally started to forgive myself, forgive others, and find peace of mind like I haven't in quite sometime.

I can't wait to see how this comes out in my art work! I think briding my own personal wall has helped me eliminate that barrier that has for so long been preventing me from being truely creative. I guess I really just had to be myself, had to embrace myself, and have confidence in myself. I'm just briming with ideas while in the past I struggled to find anything. It's like my creativity was being drowned out by my worry and my lack of belief that I had anything really valid to say.

We'll see what the future holds. I'll post some work when I make some. :) For now, go in peace!

T.T.F.N.
Elizabeth