studio practice

march 2


Words. Words. Words.  I really enjoy words.  In fact, I am quite particular in my use of words when it comes to titling.  Same goes for punctuation.  I can probably attribute this to my early love for e.e. cummings.  Not only was his work visual but the spacing of the words on the page pushed us as to how to read them.  Pacing.  Pauses.  I just love that the reader was forced to an experience of words.   One could not be passive.  Sometimes, it even took a few readings to really get the flow of the piece.  All in all, this was an early influence as to the importance of words.

For Example:

The Sky Was

can    dy    lu
        pinks shy
greens    coo    1 choc

  un    der,
  a    lo
      tive        s  pout

It has been one week since my surgery and recovery seems to be going well.  There are ups and downs but marked improvements every day.  I panicked the other day to be home all this time and not use my time more productively.  I guess that's rather silly because productive use of time at home really is resting, sleeping and healing but I'm not one to sit idle often and get anxious if I think I'm wasting precious time.  This would apply to my job which I can easily shoulder weights of feeling responsible for but also the show I am working on for later this year.

I had tentatively named the show a measure.  I've been referring to it as that for the past year almost year since I booked the show.  Soon, I'll really need to commit to that which has brought me to think more concretely about the title.  

When I have really thought about the works coming together, where once I thought I would use my body as a measure for my human-ness, I now considered that many- if not all- of the works were about these aspects of longing.  The anticipation, the expectations, the insecurity, the joy, the comfort, the disappointment, the devastation, the alienation.  I decided to commit to this to tighten up the direction.  It's a small space after all.  I started to favor on longing: a measure or a measure of longing.  Yikes.  They aren't great titles.

Often when I don't like something, I try to simplify.  I began to favor on longing, which really was the name of a show that I submitted to a few years ago that never materialized into anything.  I have always loved that title but felt a bit guilty to steal the words.  When I googled whether the show just ended up elsewhere, I came across a book of the same name.  Oh man.  I remember seeing this book in my subconscious somewhere but totally forgot it existed until this google search.  The reason why I remember is because of the Ann Hamilton piece on the cover.  Who could forget that?  One never forgets Ann Hamilton.

So now I've bought the book and now I am falling in love with new words.  Appurtenances.  What a word.  I'm not sure I've even heard someone speak it before.  When I look it up on webster's dictionary, the definition is hardly as interesting as Susan Stewart's passage about it.

I am particularly interested here in the capacity of narrative to generate significant objects and hence to both generate and engender a significant other. Simultaneously, I focus upon the place of that other in the formation of a notion of the interior. Here we might remember the meaning of appurtenance as appendage, the part that is a whole, the addition to the body which forms an attachment, transforming the very boundary, or outline, of the self.
— Susan Stewart, On Longing (pg. xi)

Man.  That's just the preface.  
(I almost feel foolish that I'm only discovering this book with any seriousness now)

But it draws me no closer to my show title.  At this point, it mostly requires maybe more reading and lots of word mapping- all of which are able to be done bedside as I rest and recover.  If emails are any indicator, it seems there is no shortage of work waiting for me when I return to my job.


february 19

Strength: Asset or Liability? (A History of Errors)

I have been thinking very much about strength, physical strength.  I feel as though I've had a many of conversation about my body over the past number of weeks- whether its about my upcoming surgery and recovery, or what the nature of my performance work is, or just merely what it feels like to be in my body in all it's tiredness and tightness.

I had a massage yesterday and it was a huge reminder about how crunched into myself I have become.  It's an understatement to say that I am stressed.  I'm not entirely sure that i am the most stressed I've ever been.  That could be because maybe I manage stress better than I had in the past, or that I am not addressing the axis of where my stress stems from.   But I am stressed and it was never so apparent than when untangling the muscles in my neck, shoulders and back yesterday.  I cannot believe that I didn't miss the space that has opened up in my body all this time.

A History of Errors; erased graphite on assembled paper, silver leaf; 2013

I am thinking a lot about my patterns as of late.  Believe me, it relates to what I'm talking about.  I tend to cherish my strength and wear my stamina or 'stick-to-it-ness' as a badge of honor.  I tend to 'stick to it' for much longer than what could be thought of as healthy, in some people's opinion.  I question if I lack confidence that I should deserve anything better or if I am way too optimistic that I can turn a situation around with my proven dedication.  It's an on-going pattern in my jobs and relationships.  The funny thing is, I figured this out in my studio work once I nearly had the ability to make work taken away from me (due to an accident).  My 'come to Jesus' moment had its impact, fast and swift.  I spent months evaluating what path i would take and I came up with the decision that my work need not be limited by medium (much like many artists who call themselves either 'painter' or 'printmaker,' 'potter' or 'metalsmith.'  Funny, sculptors don't define themselves as medium oriented like the others I just mentioned).  When I allowed myself to call myself 'sculptor' instead of 'metalsmith,' a huge window of opportunity opened.  

As I think about how my work evolved over the past 20 years, I sometimes question if it is an asset to allow the concept to drive the medium or does it just indicate a lack of discipline?  Those are probably the moments of self doubt I frequently have.  Today I don't think that- even though I am frustrated on my lack of studio progress.  Where I am questioning my patterns is in my life choices, as of late.  It's been a tough few weeks- I've been down this path before and I used my strength and stuck it out.  It didn't result in much because some situations are a sinking ship much bigger than I.  Regardless, there are so many aspects of what I accomplished that I miss.

My pattern always starts off with a boat-load of optimism.  It's a wonderfully creative place.   I act with that optimism and eventually run into roadblocks.  I work through road blocks- many times to come across more road blocks.  The more road blocks I work through start to wear on me.  Clearing road blocks don't feel like accomplishments the more I encounter them.  I feel sour but not hopeless.  I take ALL the responsibility, even though it probably doesn't all belong to me.  I keep going, trying to remember the big picture.  Then there is the point where the big picture starts to seem like a pipe dream.  I lose hope.  The responsibility of failure begins to weigh on me.  As I have aged, the weight has its impact- I feel it in my body.  It manifests there and feels like an albatross of a reminder.  I've been down this road before- is it silly to let it run its course again?

body sized drawing

A few years ago, I tried so hard to embrace the mistakes and all the things that never went right.  That the beauty was in the journey, not the result.  I really REALLY felt that while I made my drawings, the drawings that led me to performance.  I think I now hope for a similar epiphany- or at least an understanding. You know the phrase "art imitates life"- well, in this case, I am looking for life to imitate art.  I. am. not. cutting. myself. a. break.  I am trying to figure out the path and as I wander, it becomes more and more painful.  I feel guilty to be sick even though part of being sick is probably a result of trying to be strong.  I truly believe that emotions impact our physical health.  I am desperate to realize the lesson in this experience.

I pictured a History of Errors (2013) in this blog.  I love that drawing for so many reasons.  It was the drawing that reawakened my body; it was the meditation that allowed me to honor the beauty in my flaws; it was the beginning of seeing a body less as an object for things to happen to and more as a body that experiences the world its in.  

It's sobering to realize that one has so much still to figure out.

february 12

The Challenge of Communication

I explore aspects of the Self through drawing, sculpture, and performance.  Using the body as a form of measure, my studio practice is focused on how the actions of the body can imply more about the internal monologue.  We often communicate more than what we say through functions of our body.  If one pays attention, one could learn much more about another beyond language.  It is in one’s posture, the color in one’s face, the beat of one’s heart, etc.

Much of what I have been exploring has been this space between longing and alienation.  It's a place of duality because of its tenuous nature that can tip to either fulfillment or isolation.  While these pieces are very much self-exploratory, I am keenly aware that there is much control I relinquish due to a lack of articulation.  These works challenge 'the other' to engage while proving their commitment to do so- and the pay off is an utter honesty that one would not divulge if the commitment was not proven.  

I know it sets up a situation of disappointment most of the time.  I know that I struggle with expressing myself in this way.  I also know that personally, I am far more articulate in my writing than I am speaking.  It's probably my INFJ personality.

But I've really enjoyed studying this about myself within my work.  It is something from my personal relationships that I pass forward to my relationship with the viewer.  In my morse code videos, I wonder if anyone actually takes the time to decode them.  I'm not sure that anyone has- and to me, that is telling, and reinforces all my messed up expectations of feeling rejected, or not being good enough to hear what I have to say.  Talk about all those coming of age insecurities that were never resolved!

Semaphoric Alphabet

So while I explore the morse code pieces further, I recently sent a residency proposal off that uses semaphoric gestures.  You know what that is- it's the waving of flags you see lifeguards at the beach wave to other lifeguards in the distance.  I'm very interested to using the body in these visual gestures to divulge the depths of our thoughts.  Part of my proposal suggests that written word should be performed within a close space, suggesting the distance one must travel emotionally to truly connect with another, even if they might be right next to me.  

I'm semi-concerned with learning the language.  My memory is terrible.  My penchant of learning other languages is terrible!  While I think I can memorize the gestures to a poem, I think if anyone would choose to respond, that it would be difficult to me- fitting, yes?  Because in all reality, I can be overwhelmed by a dialogue and then doesn't that put me back to square one?  

february 4

Last week, I mentioned a big part of where my thoughts are, which aren't really with my studio work.  I am only trying to have some faith they will work themselves back there eventually but for now, i trust that this is part of my 'research.'

I strongly believe that emotions have a strong impact on illness.  I also think that illness creates a perspective that many people would struggle to find just on their own.  I don't know, I could be wrong about that.  I've watched, mostly from afar, as a few friends, family members, and acquaintances succumbed to illness over these past few years.  Often I feel there is a spiritual awakening or at least an awareness that emerges.  Perhaps it's a shift in priorities.  I am waiting for my awakening.  For now I continue to remain fearful and helpless when I allow myself to think about it.  At most times, I work.  Not in the studio but at my job.  If I worked at the studio, I think I would have to face the emotions I am trying to tamp down in order to function.  I am aware how messed up this is and that it does me no service except that my fall later will be from a much higher elevation when I decide to face my fears.

Lydia being interviewed for WVIA ArtScene during her visit

My day job is as a university gallery director and this week I hosted the artist Lydia Panas to campus for her exhibition.  It truly is a delight to spend time with another artist for such a concentrated amount of time.  Often, people have so much going on that we hardly have time for one another, but my job requires me to invest my time in other artists.  It's a treat really.

I've known Lydia for many years and have always respected her work.  I however learned so much more about her work, dedication and process during her visit.  While her work is more pictorial, I find that our themes within our work are closer than I originally realized.  For her, she photographs others to feel closer to them- but in reality, even though it is a portrait of another, there is much of herself in the images.  The vulnerability, love, and longing are things she desires and the model becomes the means for expression.  

What I find remarkable is the piece that is the relationship.  While my work is rather one-sided, Lydia takes on the image of another, channels perhaps their internal thoughts and struggles, and uses that as a basis for their 'relationship' within the image.  It is a striking way to work because you begin to see several approaches, ways of managing a certain concept- such as fear.  And this might provide Lydia a better understanding of how that concept can be experienced or manifested.  This seems to create a point of reflection for the artist while still treading a fine line of being one degree removed from the concept while simultaneously interpreting the experience of it.  It's tricky!

This brings me back to evaluating my studio practice.  Like an archaeologist, I tend to dig into the depths of my Self to pull forward more things to learn, such as now.  Can I learn more about my fear from others?  I read often about others who have had the treatment I am about to undergo.  While I think that may alleviate my worries, it doesn't really address my fear.  And I am not sure that I feel brave enough to handle the fear of others.  It is a brave thing to take on another's image, pulling from them all their vulnerability.  Perhaps in my next life, I will come back as Lydia Panas 2.0- braver, stronger, and willing to invite others into my life in this way.  I think at this time, I still have much to learn as an archaeologist of my Self.

For more about Lydia Panas, see her website at or check out my gallery site at

By Lydia Panas from the Falling From Grace series where I modeled for the piece, Papayas

january 29

Reality and New Realities

Attending an artist residency is probably the dreamiest thing an artist-who-has-a-day job can do.  You escape your day to day life, explore your practice and new surroundings, and your job is to create new discoveries within your work.  Iceland is truly one of my most favorite places I've been to and when I am there, I feel as though I am just surrounded with like-minded folks who embrace the magic of life.  It is in the landscape, music, architecture, folklore, neighborhoods, people, and needless to say, art.  The events of the past few days here at home are nothing but dumbfounding.  I fail to understand the leadership in this country or the people who put him there.  

While I attended my residency, I was able to let go of the surreal reality about the incoming transition in our country.  I also was able to set aside some anxieties of my own.  However when returning to the states, the sobering news emerged that I have cancer.  Now, I have a cancer that is very treatable and I am in good shape to have it removed.  None the less, I have entered into this phase of my life where my mortality is staring me back in my face.

The past month I have been all business.  See the doctors, do the tests, get the plan together, get my job in order, arrange who will take care of the cat while I'm in the hospital, who will take out my trash, who will help me get dressed when I am unable to pull a shirt over my head.  It's pretty much all set and now I wait.

This allows for much time to be alone with my vulnerability.    

I have spent so much of my artistic career finding strength in being able to recognize my vulnerability.  I mean, there are those who never address this part of them and it eats them alive.  I can tamp down my issues with the best of them but this weekend, I feel the anxiety of it all starting to slowly unthread the seams from my perfectly composed plan.  I begin to wonder, have I really ever known vulnerability before?  I mean I thought I knew but maybe I didn't.

I cried through the biopsy I had in December, not because it hurt but because it was too close.  When the doctor goes to check my throat, it's hard to for me to handle.  Now that I am aware of why it feels that way, I can feel the infected area every single day.  I say I am ready for surgery, mostly because I feel my mind is running away with my fears.

But I am terrified.  Mostly because I feel helpless.  I can't wish, diet, pill pop or exercise this out of me.  I'd like to put my head in the sand and ignore so it will go away but I know that only makes matters worse.  It's staring me in the face- my body will be open at the hands of another and my survival is completely dependent on him.  I sometimes feel silly and melodramatic to think that- I mean, I have a completely curable kind of cancer but there will be a day where I will face down my eventual death and that is my biggest fear.

In my current work, I have been attempting to measure so much of my humanity through body portioned performances and objects.  I come to find that none of these pieces have taken on fear-perhaps because I do not want to face real, true fear or maybe I just have not known fear like this before.  How do you make work about fear when you are fearful?  How has that been measured and processed through my body?  Is it the cancer itself?  If you really think about it, the idea that it surrounds my throat symbolically reinforces how inarticulate I am about what i really think.  I am scared to speak at times.  I am scared to say something I will regret.  Or embarrass myself.  Or sound stupid.  I hold a lot in.

still from  plea no. 1: a distant monologue of not leaving well enough, alone II  with poem in morse code

still from plea no. 1: a distant monologue of not leaving well enough, alone II with poem in morse code

But really, if I can make work about my sadness, my contemplative nature, my isolation, my longing, what does work about my fear look like?  How does fear manifest itself in me?  I have spontaneously cried this weekend- hell, I spontaneously cry at work sometimes too.  My breath is shallow, my chest is tight.  I know this is in response to my fear.  People tell me I have nothing to worry about- at times, I believe that and in my heart of hearts, I KNOW that- but I accept knowing that i don't have anything to worry about and feeling uncomfortable with my physical vulnerability are two different things.  I know I will be ok but I can also be scared.  As it will emerge in my work, we have yet to see.

I guess for now, I should consider this research- the tight chest, the short breath, the full, red eyes, the mind that runs away with my thoughts, the pendulum that swings from having it all together to feeling helpless that there is absolutely nothing I can do.  I say that my residency allowed me a break from my day job, was a place to explore my practice and make new discoveries in my work.  I'm somewhat thinking I'm coming up on a similar experience.  Cancer, a new kind of residency.

january 14

I wasn't sure if I would continue blogging after I returned from Iceland.  I used to blog.  I like to blog.  It requires me to reflect on my work and be firmer about things I'm thinking about.  So it's a good thing.   Now will I blog every day, as I did in Iceland?  Well, no.  I think regular life will not allow me to keep up as I did, but for now, I'd like to make it a weekly occurrence- much like I used to assign my students in their capstone.

On counting.

A friend of mine gave me the book, Bluets, by Maggie Nelson in response to my Iceland blog.  It's wonderful.  Nelson is a professor at CalArts and begins the book by confessing that she tells people on her hiring committee that she is writing a book about the color, Blue, yet she had not started it.  And this went on for some time.  When people would ask how her book is coming, she would say "Great!" yet would only have a few bulleted lists.  

The book is broken into a numerical list, which at first, seems hardly a narrative but it progresses into almost a journal, both of self confession and discovery.  It's been such a wonderful suggestion by one of my new friends here at my new job/life in Wilkes Barre, PA.    

Yesterday, I had done some work in the studio, an experiment really (that I have all my fingers and toes crossed will work), and then went to lunch at one of my favorite local haunts.  I took the book along because I found that I am WAY TOO tied to both my phone and computer lately and it's making me feel brain numb.  

I read passage 100.  
100. It often happens that we count our days, as if the act of measurement made us some kind of promise.  But really this is like hoisting a harness onto an invisible horse.  "There is simply no way that a year from now you're going to feel the way you feel today," a different therapist said to me last year at this time.  But though I have learned to act as if I feel differently, the truth is that my feelings haven't really changed.

It's funny.  Since last year, I have dedicated a majority of my studio practice to a type of measurement, certainly counting has been part of this.  I actually began this whole thing by measuring my arm span (Length of my Infinite Love), then I counted present breaths- almost as evidence that I could be not bogged down in my insecurities and sadness.  I did that for 200+ days and then seemed to lose interest when I couldn't be still and present anymore.  Maybe that is part of this too.  

counting up the pile of counted present breaths

A friend of mine and I had a conversation a while back about how similar our work is yet how different.  I remember defending myself about all this record keeping I seem to be doing about my existence.  I told him that I almost want there to be proof to my living, thinking Self.  He argued that isn't that really what all artists are doing?  Good point.  It really is (and really we weren't having a disagreement, he is just so good to play devil's advocate)- but I really wanted it to be completely dialed back to the operation of it all, not necessarily the cause or a visual diary per se.  

[I have somewhat grown weary of artists trotting out their stories of suffering for all of us to see- somewhat of a "Look at me and all my suffering.  I have suffered far more than you have.  Pity me."  This could also be because maybe I was once one of those artists and although I didn't think I asked for pity, I got plenty of it.   It just was NOT a way to move on.  In fact, it just perpetuated the grief and was way too difficult to feel as though things could progress.  Of course, the feeling for viewers that "you are not alone" isn't a bad thing- but as an artist moving forward, nope.  It kept you locked there, drowning in quicksand.  And I don't want attention for drowning, nor surviving, just being.]

I realize that my work is somewhat navel gazing.  I have always felt that once I get this Self thing understood, I could move onto the bigger problems of the world.  I also have always felt that if we understand the Self, we can understand others.  I think I even state here, somewhere else on my website.  

So I am documenting this existence which has been riddled with the internal struggles of being OK.  There are so many frustrations that being OK creates because once you get to this place where you can state "I am OK" then you want to move on and be completely OK with others.  Once you realize everyone else is not on that same timeline, or better yet, not even thinking about this timeline, then it becomes an even bigger question "Am I really OK?"

Herein creates the problem, and this is when I question every aspect of "OK-ness."  In some respects, I pay tribute to the sadness I have felt; in others, I stand with my emotions and celebrate them- the good, the bad, and the ugly.  

I am working on a show for later this year (I can't believe I said THIS year).  It is tentatively called A Measure.  I am chipping away at my longing, my sadness, my presence, my destruction, my stillness, my alienation... my OK-ness.  I do want to remind you that I am not necessarily re-counting events of my life, more the effects of it.  I think however that even though I have spent this past year doing this and anticipate spending this next (almost) year doing this, that Nelson might be correct.  I don't know that I will feel any different, in fact, I probably won't feel much different, but I do think the mere recording of OK-ness might allow for others to get on the timeline.  Perhaps maybe then I tackle, "but am I REALLY OK?"   Who knows.  

Nelson mentions that she got really good at seeming like she had a tremendous emotional growth yet maybe felt just the same that year later.  I suppose if one looks at their wounds, the pain starts off as sharp and quick but eventually dulls and fades off.  Sometimes we are snapped back to it if we torque ourselves the wrong way and it is a quick reminder that it was once there... and perhaps to remind us how we don't want to go back there (or makes us yearn for more depending on what it is and what we want from it all).

Am I OK?  I'm OK on a a level where I once was not.   Am I really OK?  That is debatable.  Current life events are certainly dredging up things I am really scared about, but that is for another day.  OK on one level opens up for more things to be OK about.   Life becoming endless things to count.

december 22

I'm writing to you later than usual today because today is the day I travel home.  Right now I'm sitting at the airport (one of the most lovely ever) and waiting for my flight, which is currently delayed two hours.  My guess is that we are delayed due to a huge storm coming our way but who knows really.  I hear roads north and south of here (exactly where I was traveling last week at this time) are closing.

But I'm sure I'll make it out of here.... if not poorer because this well styled airport has a lot to resist.  I'm totally chilling with some beet, carrot, and ginger juice for exactly 1 gajillion krona.  And I am surprised I'm not being accosted with Christmas music, although when I transferred buses at the bus terminal, they had little girls caroling as you moved through the (not so big) building.  Kinda cute- and they were decked out in their Reykjavik Excursions sweaters (jumpers) so we didn't question who sponsored them or where they came from.  

The airport is about an hour from the city.  You cross through desolate lava fields which are pretty cool- today they were snow covered, as we have been getting a good amount of snow over the past few days.  It makes the city all the more charming.  

someone surprised me with a secret santa gift.  they made the best card ever!

someone surprised me with a secret santa gift.  they made the best card ever!

Yesterday, I went downtown one last time finished up christmas shopping, finally had a famous Icelandic hot dog (because apparently it's what one should do while in Reykjavik) and after spilling weird sweet Icelandic hot sauce into my hair, I when and sat in my favorite coffee shop with my cappuccino (sprinkled with chocolate pieces) and lavender shortbread.  I also ran into the grocery store one last time to prove I am brave (not really- I was buying chocolates for my housemates).  I'd like to report that in the end, I maneuvered the store like a pro- so much that they started to speak Icelandic to me first rather than just jumping to English like the stupid American I am.  

So not to bore you with the details, after finishing up with the day and vowing to get a good night's sleep, I turned in early.  I was interrupted though by my housemates so I checked out the hullabaloo and came to find that the Northern Lights were putting on quite a show last night.  After pulling myself together and fussing with my camera, I went out and took some photos.  It was impressive last night, but being without a larger tripod and with my hair wet from the shower, I ended up shivering so much that I had to go in.  Regardless, what a way to go out!  

not the most magnificent view of the evening, but the clearest photo I took

not the most magnificent view of the evening, but the clearest photo I took

The holidays are here and of course, I'm going to take some time to celebrate, but there is also a lot to reflect on, which I hope to do in the next few weeks.  I will blog so I hope you wish to follow me however I don't think it will be on a daily basis (maybe weekly).

For now, I bid my housemates, fellow artists, and friends adieu.  For more information on them (not everyone have websites but I did what I could to find an online presence on them),
Annie Johansson

Anthony Plasse

Erik DeLuca

Kirsty Palmer

Lizzie Thomson

Mafune Gonjo

Matt Kruback

Michał Korchowiec

Minkyou Yoo

Rolina Nell



december 21


There's doing figural art work and there is using the figure in art work.  I, at one time, created figural art work but I now consider my work as using the figure in/as art work.  I do this not to sensationalize or titillate, despite how some outside the art world have thought about my work.  (In fact, I don't think I'm at all controversial or ever have been).

i returned to the museum the other day... still waiting on Yoko to call.

i returned to the museum the other day... still waiting on Yoko to call.


I use the figure as an exploration of Self- the same investigation I was making when I created figural art work, except I made so much of itand still struggled to create the appropriate conversation around it.  In the end and what encouraged me to rethink my approach is that the figure, no matter what movement or gesture I tried to use, still felt like a passive object that one applies marks to or around.  

This hardly felt fitting.  I spent many years building my work from the innocent or fallen archetype to the empowered.  And yet it seems cliche for me, as I sit and type this.  Believe me, I had the best of intentions.  I have always told students, ALWAYS, that one needs to make everything they have made (the good, the bad, and the ugly) in order to know how to make what one makes today.  I love when they say it back to me.  But I digress…

I am winding down my time here- all too fast- and I just told someone that I wish I had made more.  I'm not sure why I decided to learn new software.  I'm not sure how my job took up so much time- but again, I know I would not be here without the support from it.  All in all, there is no going backwards.  Only forwards.

But I do think about the why of my work.  I think what it all boils down to is how uncomfortable i am in my own skin.  I mean, I know I have strengths but I am conditioned to dwell on my weaknesses.  This is most likely because of my own making, but I don't discredit that this may very well be a symptom of gender.  

I always liked to think that I rose up beyond the conditions of gender, asking the larger questions.  But I come to realize that it is not just the questions we ask but also how we respond, isn't it?  The two pieces I am showing in the our exhibition next week are entirely about response.  When I was thinking about them last night, I realize I am working with a gendered response and these works are entirely back to square one- the fallen archetype.  The one who feels without her own agency.  The one who's thoughts are disconnected from her actions.  One who suppresses rather advocates.  

It's somewhat frustrating but obviously a pattern of mine.  Doesn't the saying always go, "we repeat things until we learn from them?"

I had a critique last year with an artist- quite a positive one.  I had made a piece (or exercise) that came from pure joy.  It felt so different and he noted to try to work from different access points.  I do think about that often however I begin to think that in order to "widen the lens" one must understand the source.  Thoroughly.  

My life swings between moments of empowerment dashed by crippling insecurity.  Is this something I admit to on the internet?  I guess to make my point this is exactly what I do.  Let's rattle off all the phrases that women hear: Lean in; Personal is Political; "A woman is like a tea bag—you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water." (Eleanor Roosevelt); "I'm tough, I'm ambitious, and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay." (Madonna).  You'll love to know that I was reminded of those last two quotes from Bazaar magazine's article entitled "30 Empowering Quotes from Women Who Dare."

I'm so sick of hearing stuff like this.  Women are so over-saturated with these messages of empowerment and strength that we say we hear it, we give it a "like" on social media yet we (the collective we) don't change the game.  We continue to cope with a horribly skewed playing field (2016 Presidential Election, anyone?).  We are "making it in a man's world” (gag) and while girls are being encouraged to love themselves for who they are (and I think this is great), there still is a huge current to swim against to get the same things as some others.

I'm almost angry that I have chosen to work from a place that reinforces a lack of power-  Instead of "leaning in," one should sit this one out.  But this is a frustrating reality of our gender and perhaps I grapple with wanting to be an outspoken, articulate warrior however remain authentic to my own experience.  Perhaps this is a different kind of warrior, who knows.

As I reread what I have written here, I know that perhaps it is important to voice the conditions of gendered response.  How many other women exist this way?  Just a short few months ago, I swam in my confidence and possibility.  Now, this moderately accomplished woman, can hardly advocate for the simplest of requests.  Why the change?  Perhaps it is because I had a huge life change this year and life changes always stir up questions of our self image but I tend to also question, are there other factors here?



december 20, 2017

As the residency comes to a close, we all have started to think about the title of our exhibition.  Because many of us have different working and sleeping schedules, we tend to communicate via a Facebook closed group page.  I know, its funny, considering we live in such close quarters. 

It seems a few of us really like using the word, "eternize," as our title, which was yesterday's word of the day.  The definition is "cause to live or last forever."  I realize that a residency is incredibly special- not just for the place it is but for the gift of time it gives one to devote to their studio practice.  This time in Iceland is finite but the impact will be ongoing... a cause to last forever.  Anyway, while I don't know at this moment that this will be what the name of the show will be, I liked thinking about what this all is.

Book Review in the Grapevine

Book Review in the Grapevine

I also was downtown for a good part of yesterday to run some errands.  I had lunch at the falafel shop and read the "Iceland Grapevine," which is a weekly free paper that discusses culture and current events.  I read a book review for "Land of Love and Ruin" by Oddný Eir.  I liked what I read so much that I wanted to buy the book to read on the plane however I didn't find it at the bookstore.  When I looked it up on Amazon, it has some questionable reviews but it seems its because people expected a linear narrative.  I'm ok with it not having one... I mean, it is endorsed by Bjork, for god's sake.  

The review was peppered with quotes from the book- one reading "Surely beauty must be in motion. Or be motion."  This really struck me, as I have replaced the word beauty with art.  Not only does a residency eternize the art practice but it creates/is the motion that Eir suggests.  

I sometimes really struggle feeling good about working across so many disciplines/mediums. I judge myself harshly as if it implies my practice lacks discipline.  I've done that here over and over again as I have been bumbling through learning this video software.  My studio is next to another artist who I tease because I never see her unless I catch her when she comes out to eat.  She must have piles and piles of work while I know I have spent piles and piles of time trying to figure out Adobe Premiere.   

I do try to come to terms with dumping my small and precious time into learning software instead of doing what I know.  That quote I came across I am trying to hold onto as a validation- that perhaps learning something new and coming out of this residency with a few minutes of video is a practice in motion.  

I also can't neglect the environment of the country.  Yule Lads and Christmas Cat aside, I am still so moved by the glaciers.    This breaking off and floating away as a concept is still so striking to me- the ice caps as this crust that covers over geothermal activity, violent even, quietly break away with environmental pressure.  The relationship brittle.  

For more info about the book I read about, check out this link:

On a lighter note, if you want to know what Yule Lad you are, you can take this quiz.  
I am Stekkjarstaur
English translation: Sheep-Pen Clod. This is the first Yule Lad to come, on 12 December. He likes to harass sheep but is slightly impaired due to his peg legs.






december 18

If you haven't already noticed, I tend to write these posts every morning about the previous day.  So this morning, which is December 19, Reykjavik has snow on the ground!  Despite what one might assume about Iceland, this month of December has been full of wind and rain, but no snow (although we can see it far in the distance).  Just in time for our Icelandic Christmas dinner that is happening this evening at the residence!  The SIM staff will be taking over the kitchen to make us the true Icelandic meal- I'll have more to report on that tomorrow.

Today's post is broken into a few fragments as I re-group from our trip and look at wrapping up the residency.

Moving On
Now for yesterday's thoughts-  Being out on the road the past few days, I had a ton of grading to wrap up and post finals.  I did spend a lot of the day doing that however I did take advantage of the beautiful light coming through my room to re-shoot some footage that I had been frustrated with prior to leaving for the coast.

new, new footage being edited

new, new footage being edited

Do you know what that means?  I'm taking another stab at the last morse code piece with a slightly differently approach.  What a difference a few days make.  And what seems completely ridiculous is that the resolution to some of my major frustrations was the quality of the imagery.  So I'm re-shooting it (and re-shooting it because even yesterday wasn't quite right).  Funny how the most obvious of solutions are not obvious at all.

But what I am also contemplating is their life beyond youtube.  I'm now considering what their life would be as installed in a gallery.  It seemed to be another piece of the puzzle that I had not been thinking about and now I feel I should be so that is on the docket today.  Plus it begins to start to feel more like something that I might make and not this somewhat left field "now I use video" nonsense.

We'll see what happens.

Thoughts on Glaciers
I hadn't mentioned what happened when we pulled into our second lagoon (Jökulsárlón of the Breiðamerkurjökull glacier) the other day.  Friday was an utterly overwhelming day.  I mean, so was Thursday and Saturday, but Friday we visited glaciers in probably the most perfect weather ever.  I mean it was damn cold but the light was stunning.  

We talked a little bit in the car about what actually is a glacier.  Have you really thought about it before?  I mean I have always just been like "it's beautiful chunks of floating ice" and while that is true, there is something far more poetic about them.

We were at the largest ice cap in Iceland, Vatnajökull (which is a national park of the same name), which covers 8300 kilometers.  So we started to discuss that the ice cap rests above volcanos (the largest being Grímsvötn in that region) and in the depths under the ice is geothermal activity cause by the volcano.  It's mind boggling to think about the coldness of this ice and the stirring heat that it covers.  Over a gajillion years (accurate measurement), the moisture freezes and heats up and freezes over and over again which causes what we see in glaciers.  Then, from time to time, volcanic eruptions happen to release pressure the ice caps create.  

We saw two different types of ice- bright blue pieces and shimmering clear pieces.  The pieces that break away from the glacier and float in the lagoon is a process called 'calving.'  The blue pieces are the oldest and have that color due to its density.  This is many, many years of accumulation which results in extremely compacted crystalline structure where all colors of light pass through the ice, except for blue, leaving it the color we see.  The clear pieces, well, they are the babies of the group.  

This is a pretty generalized explanation.  If you want more on glaciers, click here:

Now, I had to research some of that for you so I could explain it properly.  When we arrived on Friday, I wasn't thinking of any of that (or at least with any amount of depth).  At risk of sounding melodramatic, we got the first glimpse of the glacier calves and my eyes welled up.  Then we pull around to the lagoon and my eyes bubbled over with tears and to my surprise, I just started to cry and cry.  I have no idea how or why it happened like that.  I would have thought I could control myself over a bunch of floating ice in a lagoon.

But think of it, it has formed over a thousand years.  It's what we based our metaphors on- and oddly correlates with the videos I've been making here- the composure and stillness on the outside that covers over the intensity of turmoil on the inside.  And these pieces break off, calves, as children of the glacier and cast away into the water to melt and fall away forever.  And with climate change as a reality, it falls away without hope.  

I feel as though I watched these pieces of ice, as beautiful as they are, as these tragic figures in their swan song.  That, is overwhelming.  




I completely get that I am personifying an inanimate object (but as artists don't we do that sometimes anyway).  



I wanted to write a bit more today but I'm afraid this took much longer than anticipated so I need to move along.  More tomorrow, including a report on Icelandic dinner, menu and all!

december 14

Oh man, it's a whiney post:

I woke yesterday morning thinking that it was today.  The days really run together- it's dark so long and light so short that we end up feeling like we are in this everlasting twilight.  And on top of it, it's been so rainy.

reykjavik got the blues, yo

reykjavik got the blues, yo

But today a few of us begin our adventure to the south coast.  We expect to see lots of snow, some glaciers and general otherworldlyness that is Iceland.

In studio news, there are a few things at play here.  I tend to have to see something through to the end just to feel as though I've worked through a project to the end and not allow myself to abandon it when it gets hard (a really good metaphor for my life).  I have been messing around with the second plea video that it was becoming just stupid to me.  I did have some issues that I was trying to address in post-production- such as tremendous camera shake due to wind, even though the camera was mounted on a tripod.  The program I am using (Adobe Premiere) is pretty awesome and has infinite capabilities that maybe, one day, I'll be proficient on, but I guess the fact is, I get frustrated trouble shooting less than stellar footage.  

So part of just laying something to rest is that I require myself to export it to youtube.  I finally did that and am sharing here.  I don't know.  I'm not enjoying this video stuff.  Although parts of it satisfies the ocd part of me, I find that i don't feel as though I start with strong enough imagery that gets me excited as I work on the idea.  Lighting is bad and it is so hard to film myself.  While I like the way the neck and shoulder pieces were framed, I have numerous other pieces of footage that are just not good or what I feel are too cliche.  

And I always think a break might be useful.  I took a break to grade for a day and came back to video work, still not feeling refreshed and mostly just feeling stressed.  Now I'll be on the road for a few days and maybe that will be more time to contemplate these works.  We'll see, but I am thinking that it may be time to ditch this idea.  I guess, time will tell.



december 13

A quick update to yesterday- While I spent most of my day grading, I did cap the evening off with a truly Icelandic experience... going to the outdoor pool.  Pools are a very big thing here and are open year round.  It seems like it is where everyone goes to just meet, hang out and talk.  Another resident and I agreed we would go together on day one (or so, but who's counting).  

 view from poolside

 view from poolside

The pools are geothermal so they are heated and around the perimeter are "hot pots" which are hot tubs heated to set temperatures.  While I loved being in the hottest one, my friend needed to moved to the next one down.  I eventually did too and we spent the evening discussing foreign languages and places to visit next.  We befriended an Icelander who was hilarious and great to have in the conversation mix.  Conclusion: we are going back!  Soon!

PS. One does not take their towel outside.  One dashes from the locker room to the desired pool or hot pot and jumps in.  It's a cold dash but I came to find you don't need it after time in the water.

As a break from grading yesterday, I decided to write a bit more about drawing.

A definition on drawing:

My recent performative work really grew out of the act of drawing and my early work in my studies that responded to the body through adornment.  

I view drawing as an act of mark-making and anyone who has ever taken a class with me knows that I value the power of the mark.  Three years ago I began to make drawings based on body proportions and measurements.  I considered them figural works, although not obviously the figure as we know it.  I had grown tired of depicting the figure with marks applied to its image.  I grew to feel that the overall imagery seemed disconnected- that the figure was still a passive object to which the artist applied marks to and around.

These newer works were meant to be more psychological and ontological.  They embraced error and the interdependence of the artist to drawing.  The artist creates the mark, intentionally, methodically while the drawing expresses the narrative.  While the drawings became more satisfying to make and felt less objectifying of the figure, the thing that emerged as most important was how it felt to make these works.

making a drawing

making a drawing

The ACT of making the drawing I noticed to be physical.  I had the same feeling creating a drawing as I did after a class of yoga.  It either cleared my head or drew attention to parts of my body I hadn't thought about in a while.  While this was invigorating, I soon grew bored of working on paper, not matter how many different ways I thought about making marks that reference the body.  

It grew into more drawings that were based on the body proportion while also involving the body.  And then there were drawings that happened just on the body.  This further grew into sculptural work- which also is quite physical but one doesn't lose oneself in a sculpture like they do a drawing (or knitting for that matter).  If my wrists weren't such a mess, I'd knit night and day.

Last winter, I made a piece that was a simple object oriented around the body.  It was rope and it used the same proportions as my circle drawings but the rope came to mean so much more.  Length of my Infinite Love is the length of my arm span but made from material that is meant to bring things together, secure them from falling apart, yet it can go too far and have a destructive quality to it.  I struggled with making other art pieces with this material that were as potent and meaningful as this one.  

the length of my infinite love

the length of my infinite love

In the Spring, I was challenged by my advanced drawing students to the "Obstruction" assignment.  This is an assignment I base off of Richard Linklater (more info here:  to my advanced students- to each write a "rule" to consider when remaking what you consider your masterpiece.   I worked with the Length of my Infinite Love and if I remember correctly, I had to 1. use a personal item, 2. no circles, 3. no cats, and 4. use watercolor (the one that threw me most for a loop).  It wasn't a great piece (a sandbag made from a mattress casing hung from 2 ropes, watercolored) but it opened the door to a small performance I did carrying seven 3 pound weights around my neck.  The piece ended up as The Weight of These Decisions.  Three pounds is the weight of the average human brain and I wanted to mark the physicality of one's decisions- emotions that we feel in our body and know as real.  Seven of these weights represent a finite amount of time around these decisions.

the weight of these decisions

the weight of these decisions


While THIS wasn't a great performance, THIS was a great drawing.  This is what I wanted drawing to tackle for me- authenticity.  Why draw about something when you can draw with and on it?  I wanted a visceral connection to the work.  And this is very different than drawing ON my body a few years back.  The marks are felt.  The weight is carried.  The message is engrained.

Drawing is a vast modality.  It no longer needs to be matted and framed on the wall.  For me, my experiences can be recorded in the skin of my body, using that as my medium.  And our life is carried in that body; we express our individuality in our body, why not use our body as the source, medium, and product.  


december 12

It seems that every morning, when I write these posts, that there is an incredible amount of wind and rain that hits the skylights above me.  I always think that the current day is most definitely worse than the day before but in actuality, it is probably just the same.  

This week is going to be a wonky one.  I have papers to grade and the semester to wrap up.  Yes, I am still teaching which is such an odd feeling to be so much removed for school yet still have responsibilities in it.  Then a few of us will be off for a few days of exploring the south coast- so my posts may end up less frequent when we get on the road... but, let me catch you up on the events of yesterday.

presentation time

presentation time

Yesterday was presentations.  It seems to many were as excited about presenting as I was (which, I wasn't).  This is when all the residents get together a present their work that they came into the residency with and if they have something to show/discuss from the residency, they could share that too.  I was quite looking forward to hearing others talk about their work.  I was not however looking forward to presenting mine.

So this isn't really because I don't like my work.  I actually really like how it has unfolded over this past year- except it has become so deeply personal that I haven't figured out a way to talk about it in a more objective way and I knew this coming into it (and this is partly why i wanted time here- to mull this all over).  

One might ask, "Well Heather, aren't you thinking about this while you make the work?"  Yes, I am.  But I also allow myself to follow instincts with a loose set of guidelines.  

Now the talk has happened.  I babbled a good bunch.  I spit out a few things I wanted to say- I shared a lot of things that I would like to take back, but doing these types of things forces one to take stock in getting to the bottom of what is going on with the work.

After having the night to sleep on it, I have decided that I need to become more articulate around the ideas of: internalized archetypes; the measurement of our humanity and its representation on/in the body; my vast definition of drawing as a form of performance.  (I sense a new assignment for myself- updating the ol' artist statement).  

Yeah, these are all the things I wish I would have said or things that could have been said so much better instead of some the babbling that came out.  You might see me hash some of this out over a few posts in the coming weeks.

You might be wondering about the other residents... rest assured, they are quite inspirational.  

december 9

I wrote a list yesterday.  I live by lists really.  They keep me on track and focused.  On my list was:

  1. finish editing sound
  2. assess color on video
  3. confirm imagery for next project
  4. test shoot imagery
  5. record morse
  6. go outside
along the shoreline

along the shoreline

That's in no particular order.  So I did some editing and then went outside HAARRDDDD yesterday.  I walked to the lighthouse, which I thought was close by but it was more than an hour's walk along the shoreline.  It was a beautiful day and I took a ton of photographs along the way- some for work, some for play.  After reaching the lighthouse, snapping pics, I found the wind picked up to I'd better head back.  

Talk about resistance training.  Walking against the wind was really tough.  Then it also started to rain.  Basically the last bit of my walk was rather miserable.  As I neared the apartment, a facebook post came in from the program manager telling us that tonight is going to be a big night for the Northern Lights.  Soon after someone suggested we go to the lighthouse to view them.  

I was so tired that I nearly wanted to die inside thinking about walking back to the lighthouse after such a long and tiring day.  But damnit, I wanted to see this, so I sucked it up and joined the group to walk to the lighthouse.  Again.  And it was warm and hardly windy.  

aurora borealis

aurora borealis

We began to see the "show" during the walk out but once we arrive there, it was insane!  They are almost ghosty and weird.  I'm not sure why I thought they were a bit faster moving but they aren't.  They hang there and grow in intensity and maybe morph their shape a bit then fade out.  Honestly, taking photographs of them is far more satisfying than seeing them because if you do  long exposure, it pulls in more of their shape.  (Listen to me talking like I know my camera.  The reality is, a kind resident banged out a few settings for me to get semi-successful shots.  Although I was on a tripod, my images were pretty fuzzy.  I think others had far more success than I... but honestly, I'm still insanely jazzed with what I got).

So this is my post today.  Sure, I did some good processing of thoughts while on my walk but I'll save that for another time.  I have many, many photos to share.  Enjoy!


(click the pics to go forward- it's a gallery of images)


december 5

Well, up with the sun today... which is a bummer because I thought I might be moving beyond the jet lag.  

view from the kitchen, this morning

view from the kitchen, this morning

Yesterday, I spent locked away in my studio so unfortunately, I don't have a ton of "Heather as the stupid American" musings to report.  So overall, that is good for me, since thus far, I've tried to give all my money away.  Don't worry, that can change as I am expecting to get out of the house today to 1. clear my head; 2. find cats; 3. find some fabric; 4. be in sun (in that order).  Reykjavik is known to be overrun with cats- my fellow residents have attested to that.  Here's to many new friends!

Getting the studio off the ground has taken a direction I had not expected.  I have a very small studio- which is fine, because I don't anticipate hands on 'making' to happen.  Getting adjusted after almost 6 months in my new job and having thought about "what I would do if I had time" nearly that entire time, creates a ton of pressure as to what I would do once I got here.  So needless to say, I felt a bit stifled.  But I went through my sketchbook, which is chock full of ramblings, and I latched onto something I wrote in the margins back in October- morse code.

Let's make one thing clear, this past year, I committed to using my body as a measure when considering the nature of 'longing.'  There is love, alienation, coping, and possible reconciliation.  I have been investigating operations on how the body is measured, how the act exemplifies emotional content, and how I can actualize the internal and ephemeral cognitive nature of our 'human-ness.' 

In months prior to this, I listed off different 'forms of measurement'- such as weight, length, volume, distance- in my sketchbook and have used the body to respond and create 'actualized longing.'  Listed as an option of measure in my sketchbook was harmonic analysis.  Yeah, I didn't know what that was either but here is the definition: a branch of mathematics concerned with the representation of functions or signals as the superposition of basic waves (thanks, wikipedia).

So that is about as exciting to me as a wet noodle.  I've never much cared for math so one can only imagine what great joy it would create for me in my studio practice, but I have always told my students that never throw anything away in the sketchbook.  One never knows what will be useful later.  With a little arrow next to harmonic analysis directed me to the related concept- morse code.  The little bit I have researched- we can thank harmonic analysis for telecommunications and space exploration.  It led me to think about the alienation longing creates- a communication from afar; maybe heard, maybe not; maybe reciprocated, maybe not.  When thinking of morse code, I sink right into thinking about ships lost at sea clicking away 'S.O.S.' hoping that someone heard them.... and I think of how we often can feel lost and we try and communicate, longing to be heard.  (Cue Bowie's Space Oddity)

Fun fact: Samuel F. B. Morse, creator of Morse code, was an American painter, living from 1791- 1872.  I never knew that!

I spent an entire day sorting this out into a little video sketch (below).  Keep in mind, I am not at all a video artist but it seems the most appropriate method to flush this out at this time. On deck today is to work on phrases that will eventually string into a grouping visual poetic phrases or gestures, along this idea.