The Coffeehouse

Let's get real

2009-11-12T20:16:00.000-08:00

Being an art major is really fun. I mean, you get to exercise as much creativity as you could possibly want. For example, for every project critique you get the opportunity to make up a fantastic statement of why you made your project, the deep meaning behind it, and the layers of difficult questions it arouses. I usually come up with my statement about five minutes before my presentation. Or I nod my head with that "oh yes, you really understand my artistic motivations" expression on my face when my teacher comments on the "historical references," "stimulating complexity," and "careful attention to detail" in my art.

So why all that? Can't I just say it is beautiful? HA! scoffs the art connoisseur. Beauty, what is beauty anyways? Well, contemporary art friend, I would like to point out to you that the question of "What is beauty" has been asked a thousand times in the last century, along with "What is art?" and all the other "difficult" questions of our time. These days art is only made to question modern standards and social norms. Shock value gives you extra brownie points in your exhibition. For instance, in one of my art classes I created a sculpture out of a book. I built a scene from Wuthering Heights out of...the book, Wuthering Heights. Why? Because I thought it would look cool. And I like the book. That's all. But with that reasoning I would get a B tops, so I decided to throw in the automatic A clincher: a piece of raw meat. In my scene, Heathcliff (Lover A) is digging up his dead romantic interest, Catherine (Lover B), so I decided to make Catherine out of the usual paper, and pieces of raw steak.

"Wow!" my art teacher gushes, the disturbing qualities of having a piece of raw flesh incorporated in a simple sculpture have suddenly catapulted my project into the "invocative and therefore amazing" category of art.

When I got back home, I threw out the piece of meat and put the sculpture out on our coffeetable as a nice household decoration.

I'm a little irritated by the direction of art these days. I appreciate clever artists who play with humor and irony because that always makes for a more interesting show, but those serious art critics who delve into how art evokes the "essence" of art, or beauty, or politics, or humanity, or whatever the heck the "essence" is evoking, are missing out on a big chunk of what has always been a huge part of art: aesthetics. If it is aesthetically pleasing with no underlying purpose or no other questions raised, is it no longer art? Tell that to the ancient Greeks! Tell Michelangelo that David is a one-dimensional hobbyist's creation. The REASON that questioning art, society, and pushing boundaries with art WAS successful is because it was new! it was different! it was rebellious! If you REALLY want to be a rebellious artist in this day and age, go home and paint a Mona Lisa. Spend years on a portrait that serves no other purpose than to be beautiful, and you will finally return to breaking boundaries with your art.

It's raining in Manhattan

2009-09-12T21:33:00.000-07:00

There are corpses on the ground.

Emaciated skeletons litter the sidewalks amidst puddles of grimy dark liquid.
Once upon a time I imagine they were pretty young things, female I'm sure, although now it is impossible to tell. They are disfigured beyond recognition; their spines are snapped, their once graceful arms shattered and bent at grotesque angles.
I imagine that the tattered shreds of faded black taffetta draped over their broken frames once belonged to gowns of ebony.

Once they lifted their faces to the sun.
Once they laughed at the rain with their heads held high.

And you, you are a murderer.
You produced them by the thousands, you did not love any of them, you cared nothing for their beauty, you trained them to do one thing, and when they inevitably failed, you left them to die.

They are tools to you.

She never complained when she shielded you from the blows that were raining down on your head. She gave up her looks so that you might stay warm. She gave up her life so that you might be comfortable. And when she had nothing left to give, you left her broken on the sidewalk. After all, she was dispensable.

There are corpses on the ground and umbrellas over our heads. And when they have been broken by the downpour we will discard them on the sidewalk in a puddle of rain.

That invisible world

2009-07-13T04:27:00.000-07:00

There is a unique and comforting anonymity in flying on your own. You share a bond with the hundreds of ants milling around beside you, scurrying from terminal to terminal. You are one of a thousand and yet you are completely alone.

Flying is a world between worlds. One world is left behind in all the vividness of memories, each portion carefully selected until you have crafted the vision you want to keep with you. Another world awaits you, and whether you have been there or not, it will always be a new destination when you are on the plane.

Once you are there you have time to think, time to gaze inwardly and time to philosophize about life and your ever-changing trek through it. For me, this time revolves around goodbyes. The goodbyes that constantly leave my mouth and take something from my heart when they slip out my lips. It leaves me feeling chafed and sore, like the way my hands feel after packing, repacking, and dragging my luggage to the next destination.

This hello goodbye, this tap dance over an invisible line, it leaves scuff marks on the floor of my heart. Like velcro I hook myself back into old friendships and relationships, and with that harsh tearing noise I rip myself away again, thousands of hooks and loops screaming their disapproval. Goodbyes have never really been my thing. If I have ever told you goodbye and seemed cold, don't worry, the tears never come until I am alone in the void between worlds.

I often think of my old world and how every return makes it seem as if I had never left it. I fall straight into the embrace of my dearest friends, a sacred reunion of people I feared I would never see again, much less see together. One person is a joy, but the unity of many that had loved each together is simply beauty. And yet time dances on and the places you once knew and called home have changed without your input. Change is merciless and necessary, but with jealousy I know that my home is changing without me. For that reason I have placed my home in the hearts of those dear to me, so that whenever I am with them I am home.

So when you ask me where I am from I will say, "I don't know." If you really want to know a place, I suppose it would have to be the airplane.

First Snow

2009-05-27T00:53:00.001-07:00

Open your eyes for your world is too small.

Rip off your blinders and see for the first time.
Do not judge what you have only tasted
And do not dive until you know where the rocks lie.
Find yourself, try on your faces,
but do not hold onto a mask
and do not forget your Father.

I'm not dead!

2009-05-27T00:48:00.001-07:00

I'm sorry it's been so long! I'm going to be a horrible person and post a bunch of stuff one after another! Gasp!

Ahem.

Here, my friends, is my latest work of art. I'm kind of in love with Wolverine. I think it's the whole "I want the manliest man ever who will never die" syndrome, but at least it's not "I want a super romantic boyfriend with superpowers and sharp teeth who will never die" syndrome, ahem, not that I'm implying any sort of aversion to the Twilight series. At all. Really. Cough cough.

Crib to Coffin

2008-11-13T09:20:00.001-08:00

For an art assignment where we had to use text as form, I created a watercolor painting illustrating a verse from Emery's "Crib to Coffin". Great song!!!!

The girl in the picture is a super awesome stock provider on deviantart: http://clickypenpixiexstock.deviantart.com/
check out her site!

There was a bird
whose wings were crushed
by a windshield.
So fast to the ground
the roadside it found
as its eyes closed.
I heard the driver say,
as she pulled away,
"What could I have done?
The worst now is over."
I thought to myself,
with risk to our health
No one ever offers me help.

Happy Halloween!

2008-11-01T00:33:00.000-07:00

I carved my first pumpkin!!!

You see, we don't really have pumpkins in the Philippines. I have considered trying it with a squash, but rumor has it that it's not quite the same. We did, however, have squash pie at one point, which was quite delicious.

I suppose that my dear little pumpkin friend is a little...unusual. Seeing as he is a panda... I'm not really sure why my roommate and I decided to carve a panda. But hey, everyone likes pandas!

He started out way too cute. Not to say that he isn't cute now (I for one still find him very cute) but he was happy and had a little smile. And my roommate reminded me that jack-o-lanterns are supposed to be scary. So I decided that scared, if not scary, would be more appropriate.

As for tools...

We didn't have any of those high tech little pumpkin saws, only a butter knife, and a slightly sharper but unserrated knife.

And chopsticks.

Chopsticks should be appropriate for our arbitrary Asian theme...

Tagged and Treasury!!!

2008-10-24T13:18:00.000-07:00

I was tagged by Chokingonstatic Designs! Sorry it took me so long to respond, haha. :)

Here are the rules:

Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their name as well as links to their blog.
Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Here are the 7 random facts about myself:

I have two passports, Philippines and U.S.
I have eaten bat, dog and lizard. Bat and lizard are YUMMY! :) Dog makes me a little sad...
I played three years of touch rugby in high school.
I made a self portrait of myself using sand and glue. So much fun!!!
I have played football (soccer) on the Women's Philippine National Team. And I scored a goal in an international tournament. :D

Now check out these super duper blogs that I've tagged! :D

Inspiration Point
Angelic Adornments
AMomentAMemory28
SillyLittleLady's Spot on the Web
Dragon in Knots
mattscraftywife's blog

Graceful Moments

****

My photograph made it to a treasury! This is my third treasury item, yay! Hurry and take a look here, it expires tomorow! :)

Music

2008-10-19T17:32:00.000-07:00

Music is the language of the soul. In the fullest of joy one can only open their mouth and sing at the top of their lungs, and in the deepest of sorrow one finds comfort in bittersweet strains that echo the tears of the heart.

Music is divine.

God weaved music into the very frame of the heart. A beautiful melody tugs at our core, a single song triggers a flood of precious memories. Music heals and revives broken and thirsty souls. On the other hand, a symptom of a dead soul is immunity to the power of music.

With music we praise kings, and with music we ride into battle.

With music a mother tenderly rocks her child, and with music we lay our dead to rest.

With music God speaks, and with music we bow to Him and worship.

So.

Sing.

At the top of your lungs.

Falling in love with fall

2008-10-13T19:03:00.000-07:00

Fall! I love fall. We don't have it in the Philippines. It just doesn't exist. I love all the leaves and the glorious crunching sounds they make when you jump on them. Because you simply have to jump on them. And it's getting colder but it's a nice kind of cold. It's the kind of cold that allows you to wear a scarf and fuzzy boots, the kind of cold that is perfect for playing soccer in.

And I hope I'm not just another California girl with Ugg's and a black and white scarf, because I'll have you know that I bought my boots for $4 at Goodwill and I wear the scarf because I miss my friends from the Czech republic who have the very same one (and Europeans know how to wear scarves).

I bought my first pumpkin yesterday, coming back from Santa Barbara. The closest I got to buying a pumpkin in the Philippines was either a squash or canned pumpkin pie filling. I can't wait to carve it!

I just posted these fall photographs along with a couple others on Etsy if you like them. :) They were all taken when I was out buying the pumpkin. Enjoy!

AAAAHHHH!!!!

2008-10-11T00:57:00.000-07:00

AAAHHH! Yes. That pretty much sums it up. Life has been pretty crazy hectic lately. Biology is killing me...blech.... It's only the second week of school and I just took my first bio midterm. At the same time I'm trying to stay up to date with Etsy and also fit in my sports medicine club.

This weekend I'm off to Santa Barbara for a soccer tournament, woohoo! I'm definitely bringing a pillow for the car ride...

Last note before I head off to bed:
I have a new assignment for my Art 1: Visual Cultures class, and I'm so excited! We're studying the use of text as/in art, and our assignment is to make our own art incorporating text. My idea is to have a stanza from Emery's From Crib to Coffin (an amaaaazing song!):

There was a bird
whose wings were crushed by a windshield.
So fast to the ground,
the roadside it found as it's eyes closed.
I heard the driver say as she pulled away,
"What could I have done? The worst is over."
I thought to myself with risk to our health.
No one ever offers me help.

And in the left frame of the picture, in the foreground, I'll have a girl looking down, a lot of her in shadow made mostly of the text. The text will run into the background, and the background will actually be the focal point. In the background I'll have the fallen bird and the lyrics around the bird will be in drippy red paint, like blood. And maybe I'll incorporate some shattered glass in there. I'll post pictures as soon as I get started. :)

Oh, and the picture of me yelling here is a self-portrait I did my sophomore year in high school using oil pastels.

The Underlying Lines

2008-10-07T02:11:00.000-07:00

In black and white we see the smudges
The stains and splatters of ink
The fingerprints and scratchy pencil lines
It's wrong, it's all wrong, and we scream
We scream for the injustice, the disappointment, the shattering of dreams and expectations

Unless we see in color.

Layers and layers of blood and light
Glorious streams of beauty
No less painful and no less harsh
But we realize that the black and white
Was simply the outline underneath the paint
And suddenly we see the masterpiece over the sketch.

Note: I wrote this peom back in June, but I just finished an alchemy request for someone on Etsy, to paint their boyfriend as Mal from Firefly (which is an amazing show and such a tragedy that they cancelled it...). For the first time, I recorded all the steps in my process. I never like it when people watch me work, because it always looks ugly in the beginning, and they, unknowing, tell me that it doesn't look right. Well, of course it doesn't look right. I can see it in my mind, where everything will go, how it will work out, and I fix things up as I go. It's part of a larger process, but the casual observer only recognizes what is right there before them. Well, to me, that's encouraging. Because with God as our artist, we are simply the ugly sketches and first puddles of paint thrown on the paper, but He sees the masterpiece He is making, the finished product.

What Superpower?

2008-10-05T20:47:00.000-07:00

We've all participated in those awkward "ice-breakers" before, where they ask you questions like, if you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you bring? And you think to yourself...but...I'm not stranded on a desert island. And how would I bring three things? And why would I have that choice? And for all those people who say their TV or ipod...is there electricity on desert islands? And you grunt and cross your arms and say typical things like...a TV and an ipod.

But the question I would like to focus on is, If you were a superhero, what superpower would you have? And personally, that blows my mind because there are just sooooo many options, and I'm quite indecisive. Lately I've gotten into Heroes, and all the ideas of the different superpowers make my brain start hurting with all the awesome possibilities. I will do a painting based on one of these images of Peter Petrelli, because he is just that awesome. I photoshopped the original to look blue. What do you think? Which one is better?

But back to the question. What superpower? Maybe regeneration like Wolverine from X-men or Claire from Heroes. But who would want to live forever? And as a side note, Claire has got to be the biggest masochist if she voluntarily subjects herself to the kinds of pain that she does in the show, e.g. cutting off her toe with scissors or plunging her hand into boiling water.

I'm choosing to get distracted again, but the reference to X-men reminded me of it. I was banned from watching X-men cartoons when I was about seven because my brother and I were "playing X-men" with our friends (three boys about 4, 9, and 11) and we were dueling each other. My brother and the other two older boys fought, as Gambit, Cyclops, and Wolverine (this is how my brother got so good at throwing cards, which was not to my advantage when he decided he would chase me around the house at times launching cards at my head). This was all very well for them, but I was faced with a four year old to duel. I don't even remember which X-man he was. I also faced a dilemma because I was Storm, and how exactly was I supposed to call up lightning and zap the kid? Left with no other choice, I promptly walked over and sat on him.

He started crying.

I darted behind the couch to hide, but it was too late. His mother and my mother gasped and scolded and exaggerated and banned us from X-men. And that was the end of X-men for us. My bad.

But back to the best superpower. I think I would have to choose telekinesis. This is a very broad category of powers, but no one ever said that there were limits to the answers, so I would choose telekinesis and everything that falls under it. This way, I would never have to get up again. I could do everything while sitting/reclining/lying down. And it would be awesome. And theoretically I could even make myself fly. Some skeptics told me that I couldn't do this, because after all, Jean Grey aged pretty fast when she tried to do too much, and she was the Phoenix! But hey, it's a simple ice-breaker question, and no one ever said there were limits.

Yellow.

2008-10-03T00:45:00.000-07:00

Yellow is unsightly in large amounts...it can be grossly overwhelming.
Washed out or pale, it is lovely, like the warm glow of candlelight on a tablecloth.

Yellow is a jealous tyrant, dominating and enslaving the eye. One must exert authority over its unruliness, rationing it to small portions. Take for instance, the sun. To our eyes it is minimized to a tiny, pretty yellow dot in the sky. Maybe God's way of telling us to use yellow sparingly was to fling that burning ball far away from the earth.

In small portions, yellow is sunshine (literally) and happiness. Like my yellow Mary Janes. They peep out from under my jeans like shy little canaries, the one on the right with a childish appliqué sun stitched on, a reminder of how the Creator uses His pallet.

I think Emily Dickenson says it best. And I found this poem after I wrote this, so it was just that much more perfect.

Nature Rarer Uses Yellow
by Emily Dickenson

Nature rarer uses Yellow
Than another Hue.
Saves she all of that for Sunsets
Prodigal of Blue

Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly
Like a Lover's Words.

The Patchwork Quilt

2008-10-01T00:58:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a college girl who was a patchwork quilt. She was made up of a whole bunch of different things awkwardly stitched together. After all, everyone else was a neat little two-toned or three-toned quilt. She was just a mess. Some of the other quilts were shocked to see the patches of piano keys although she was covered in patches of soccer balls, baseballs, and rugby balls.

"But sports quilts don't usually play instruments..." they pointed out. This didn't help the college girl. She tried to hide the splashes of paint that had gotten all over her, hoping people wouldn't notice that she was an artist too. Unfortunately although likely fortunately, the patch with a camera kept popping up, so she wasn't able to hide it.

The variety of patches that made her confused her and she tried to pull her seams apart.
Thankfully, it is difficult for quilts to pull themselves apart.

During her second year of college, she became tired of being all scrunched up and trying to hide her patches. She smoothed herself out and fixed up the seams she had tried to tear. She changed her major from biology to studio art, joined the club soccer team, and made regular visits to the piano practice room. She still is minoring in biology because she wants to be a physical therapist, a good occupation for a quilt like her. During the summer she opened up an Etsy shop, hoping to sell some of her paintings and photographic prints. It's a brand new world for this little patchwork quilt.

If you check the tag on the quilt, you will find that although it is an American brand, it says, "Made in the Philippines." She's quite proud of the "Made in the Philippines" part, especially since she was only shipped to the U.S. last summer, for college. Her dad was "Made in California" and her mom was "Made in the Philippines". She may just join the Mixed Student Organization this year...

And who does this little quilt love most? Well...the one who created her. She's starting to be happier about who He made her to be. As a craftsman herself, she understands the love and care that the Crafter puts into His creations. She only hopes she can be everything He created her to be.