Are We Lookin At The Same Art?

 

   Years ago when my Ward was in collage, SCAD was called Atlanta College of Art and Design.
         I was thrilled to have a child in art school, and such a good one. Plus it was near us, so my helicopter parenting skills would still be nourished. Ward, lived on campus, in a very old, beat up dorm, for two years. His last two years, in a brand spanking new modern dorms, right next to The High Art Museum in Downtown Atlanta. They tore down his old dorms, and a sculpting studio for a new wing of the High pre info will help you follow the path of my writing!!!

Museum. All of this
     I have always helped my kids, in any form I could, yes even in college. If they wanted me to proof a paper, or wash a load of clothes, I was there. Ward required special care, and I was in with both feet!
      He called me once and said, " Mom I need to read a book, and watch a movie about Basquiat, are you in?" " Of course, I will write a paper, you write a paper and let's see what the other sees!" gleefully I replied.
    A few days later, he came over and we shared our papers.
    I slowly looked up from his, and said, " Did you watch the movie? Did you read the same book I did?"
    He smiled and smiled some more.
    This cannot be possible, you saw a totally different art form, a different person, and no sadness.
    I saw a life laden with genius and drugs, a poet, beautiful handwriting, someone who loved him, but could not save him, and many people that helped him go down a bad path of destruction.

    Ward, smiled and smiled again.

    " Mom, I was just suppose to critique his art, not his everyday life,"
      My voice was getting louder, " How can you separate the two?"
      " You have to separate it, to be fair", sang my artist son>
     " There is no fair in art, or life, really!! His life was his art, angst and turmoil and heroin!!!", now I may have been preaching! Ward is thinking, looking at me funny.
      " I am not saying you are wrong mom, we just see things at a different angle!" costly art school student of mine.
      He left, and felt confident with his paper, and my job was done. He left my paper in a heap, and thanked me for my input. He received a B on that paper, and we were both happy about that. However I did have some questions for the teacher!!! Maybe he needed to do some more research also!!!
      Ward graduated with honors, never missed a day of college, and was never late to class!! But...I think he did not get Basquiat totally.
       Yesterday when the hubs and I went to The High Museum, to see The Basquiat notebooks, and few art pieces, I moved slowly. He was basically a street artist on drugs, but he did have a story to tell, and I feel thankful to have seen some of his work.
       I ran my hand over his work, careful not to touch, but to feel whatever he had left behind, talking to Ward at the same time. Telling my boy, that I wish he was with me, and I could share what I was trying to say all those years ago. " Ward, look at his handwriting, that tells you so much, and why did he tear the pages out of the notebook and leave the torn edges before he framed it!!!"  There is so much more here besides his simple street art graffiti looking work, there is a big story about his life. " Who uses just composition books for sketching?? No One!" " Was he crazy? I think he was off center for sure, but crazy, ask Jackson Pollock or Picasso ?" It is all in the looking at art, just like you said, years ago.
      I think we were both right, and maybe a little wrong too.
    Dad and I enjoyed ourselves, while we were walking around, dad said, " I think we are walking on where Ward has walked, and probably slept!" since the wing was built over your old dorms. I told him he was right, I felt you very strongly, "Did you see the collages by Muniz? Oh Ward, they were like Where's Waldo!"
Beautiful art around every corner, how lucky you were to go to school here.
       I feel we still see the same art, don't you sweet boy.
       Love you and Basquiat!
      

First Base

  

  Dawn of the new day, found me, searching the tube for anything but the news.
     I refuse to listen to this horror story of politics, for I fear what I may say and or do!!!
     So I click the clicker, a million and one times, nothing is on when the hubs and I wander downstairs.
     Quiet is good, birds singing is wonderful, mass on one channel, cartoons on the next, choices are few at around 5 am. Around seven I seem to find an old movie, or two. ( You know I am not watching, but what words and sounds you surround yourself with, at any time, can alter your day!!) ( Be particular!) ( You carry all the stuff with you)
    I pray before my feet hit the floor, so the blaring TV being on, has not disturbed my mojo with the lord.
   ( You do know that I will somehow write a blog and this will have little to do with it, but in my mind, honey it is all connected)
   There was a movie on, that I have seen way too many times, and it caught my attention. The two main characters, a boy and girl, were pulling into, a no longer vigorous, drive-in movie theater. There was no talking, just the empty, exhausted speaker and screen.( it was filmed in New Orleans, or maybe Texas and I could feel the humidity and hear the mosquitoes) ( they had no bug coils lit up on the rear view mirror)  my heart skipped a few beats.
   He moved over to her side of the car, and touched her face, and that was all I needed to see. I closed my eyes ( stopped making up my bed, and fell to the mattress)  and decided that what was wrong with the world, was no one was having to get to first base anymore!! The tension in the car at the drive-in with your new guy, was electric and innocent. First kisses, that could last for the entire movie time. Conversations into the night, friends hopping from one car to the next for visiting. It was a simple time, or so it seemed to us, to grow up. We went to the drive-in every weekend, and did not truly care what was playing.
    It could also be a family outing, I guess it depended on the film. Load up the car, and entire neighborhoods would be there. I don't ever remember wearing shoes, running all over the place.
   This little snippet of a movie that I was watching this Sunday morn, was a reminder to reflect on the past, but make some first on this day also. AND since we all have rounded the bases a time or a hundred, we have to look and work a tiny bit harder for things that seem so new. Tastes, music, films, books, people, places, I think we all want to feel like that first kiss, drive-in, getting to first base experience in a pretty worn shoes kind of world.
          I hope your day is whatever you wish it to be, mine will be awesome beyond belief!! Look how it started, on First Base!!!! 

Mother Of Dragons

    It is difficult to let May roll on without touching base on being a mom.
    For any parent who has lost a child, Mother's Day can take you to your bruised and battered knees. To Mother's all over the world, it is still a day to wash clothes!! and worry about feeding the herd.
   It is an unyielding gig, often without music!
   AND most moms would not trade it for anything, a mystery unfolds daily.

   I would need to add another room for additional baggage, for all my stories. So I will just share with you, my overnight carry on of mom stories.

   Stepmother of two, came with my marriage to Dr. Bill. Joint custody, and a boatload of boy smells.( I had two brothers, but mom took care of them) ( I think I was in shock for at least two years) I was young ish, and we grew together. I had never cooked before either! There was a lot of fun, and anxiety. We survived, and they are two of my favorite people. Both unique, handsome, educated and strong. They make me laugh, and they take good care of their "other" mother. Little did I know, at the beginning, how lucky I was to have them.

  Ward came out of me, slowly......and was a terrible baby......I thought.....I was in the twilight zone...who cries that much?? and never sleeps?? again I was in total shock, a complex child forever and a day. We were by ourselves for the week( B and K came on the weekend), and learn we did,so much from each other. He was a genius, and I knew I was in for a ride. We laughed and cried together, until he left us at 25. I think in my heart he had lived his full life, and was done. But a mom, never is done, we miss him.
   Hart came three years after Ward, the perfect child. ( I know that is a hard title to live up to) Never cried, slept all the time, ( I woke him up to play with him) and grew up to be awesome. He was a terrible eater, but by then , you realize I was a young mother of four boys!! and I did not care if he just ate bagels!!
  I lived at the doctors office, did not even make appointments, just showed up!! Daily, with cuts, bumps, bruises, you name it!! Once Hart had a He-man sword stuck in his ear, and Ward a jelly bean up his nose in the same week.
   Four years later ( yes I  have been seeing a shrink by then!) we adopted Emma from India. ( I needed a girl) ( I had to know the full circle of all kinds of mothering!!!) ( note. we lost a little girl from India, a year before Emma, Ami Grace died of heart problems before she came to be with us) Emma came from India with head lice and sever malnutrition, and she was the Best!! drank ten bottles of milk the first night, I did not put her down. She was in and out of the hospital, the first few months, and after those kinks...she became a super athlete!! Yes that is right, my little girl, became my tom boy child!! Rocked every sport know to man. She received the Excalibur Award her senior year, for most outstanding athlete! I kid you not, the child is barely five feet high, and for many years weighed nothing!! Four brothers and her mom and dad, had a ball with her. We still do, unless she hasn't had food, and she can bite you!! I remind her often, as we look at pictures, " Oh Emma, look at all those cute dresses I put you in!!" She is my traveling buddy, and number one girl.
    I think I was 38ish when Emma arrived, and by then, this mother business was a piece of cake!! ( and I was heavily medicated) ( Sort of a joke??)
    Being a mom is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, EVER!!! and I am still doing it.
    Never do you stop being a mom, it is a forever thing.
    So May we celebrate mothers day, I celebrate everyday. Thankful to Baby Jesus that I made it though some of the hard stuff, and that I can still remember the delicious stuff.
    I close my eyes and I see my babies, and then my young boys, all lanky and goofy. Emma giving them a run for the money, and taking over the house!! Would I change anything? Yes, a few, but I know my God had my back.
   Mothers Day in the Merry Month of May, and this Mother of Dragons says, " Thank You" to all my children, and to my hubs for being the best dad.
  Who needs a gift, I have mine.( Kids you know that is not true, mom likes gifts and lots of them, but don't let dad buy them, he needs guidance!!)
   I Love being your mom

The Art Of A People

-Is A True Mirror To Their Minds.
                            Jawaharial Nehru

               Art explodes in the sunshine of the summer months. ( I think we are still in spring? but in my heart it is summer!)
              Farmers markets show their bounty, festivals burst at the seams, and I pick up a paint brush.  In the winter I draw out what I will paint in the summer. I can not even try and explain it, my very being, is much like the tides. Moon phases, weather patterns?? I paint in summer. The paper the brushes, the squeezed out tubes, I love the process as much as the final product.
            In the dim winter light, I just don't feel the juices flowing. I may felt, or play with textiles, but honestly, I just read. Yes I still read in the summer, but winter is my storing up months of reading. I may have been known to read 3 to 4 books a week, Its Winter!!! I am cold!! I have to read. BUT come summer...it is all about the paint. Watercolors love the summer, the water and paints seem to create on their own, I just happen to be holding the brush. Pastels adhere to the paper better, and cause me to pause at the ease of this medium. I think this year, I may even try my hand at oils. The thickness of the paint, or the ability to make broad strokes and see them, excites me to my core!!
          Just in the last two weeks, I have gone to this one antique store, looking way to long, at these watch faces. YES, not watches, just several containers of watch faces. I think they are calling me, and I don't know what to do with them. Wonder whose wrist they have been on, and who collected all of these? Summer wakes up my imagination and these worn out, worthless watch faces.( I will keep you posted!) ( They have a story to tell!) 
         I hope you find the time, to create. In the yard, in the kitchen, on the canvas, through the lens, daily devotions to catching the big fish, let the light pull you to create. Go to concerts, new restaurants, fresh tomato sandwich! Summer is delicious, and so beautifully busy.
       Chihuly is here in Atlanta, Basquiat at the High, Braves in the outfield, fresh cut grass smells all over the place, it is a wonderful time of the year. If you look closely in your town or city, there is so much waiting for you, explore. Weddings are a constant in June, Fireworks in July and Hot August Days, look for some water.
     I think we are still in May, you know I don't pay to much attention to the actual calendar, but the sunshine and tides!! that I know personally. I feel it, I hear it, I taste it, the art of the people in summer.
     Grief lives with me, but it takes a backseat this time of year.
     Happy Mothers Day to all who mother!
     Create something fantastic, I know you will.        

        

Seek The Bigger Canvas

   In the art studio of life, seek the larger canvas. I think the stars may have been speaking to me? ( Is that where horoscopes come from?) It continued on ...using words like plentiful and creativity....I soaked it all in....and thanked whomever wrote this little tidbit.

      Seldom do I check my horoscope, but once in a blue moon came up yesterday. It read,
       Art comes is so many forms, from food, to music, photographs, books, a sunrise, birds chirping, I thought I had seen it all. Not all-all!! but my fair share. Until my buddy introduced me to Mapplethorpe. HBO has a documentary called Mapplethorpe:Look at the Pictures, so I did.
      I had never heard of him, or had I ? He was young and boyish looking, in a relationship with Patti Smith (?)

which is interesting enough. The time period was important to the story, and he used Polaroids, another very strange art form, but I was in. My Perlotta explained to me, that I needed to think outside the box, ( I can do that) and to expect many views of the male penis! ( Is that art?) ( OK! The human body, lets think freely)
   I continued on with my watching of an artist in another world.
I loved it, the story. I find it fascination how people, all people, survive this earthly life. I forever find interest in how the catholic church molds people.( all religions do, but the scars of the catholic church are so rich!)
I love the human body in anatomy class, and  depicted in so much art. However......it can turn to gross in a second. I do not consider bodily function as art, ( remember this is my blog, you may indeed love it!) I am not a fan of pornography, but I have to be honest, I don't know what classifies as that. Maybe, OK, for sure, Mapplethorpe pushed that envelope over that cliff!!! ( The Bigger Canvas!! I am trying!!)
   He did mixed media and interesting things with emulsion!!( that sounds nasty! but its not!), taking the picture off the Polaroid and letting the image float on another piece of material.( you would have to see it!!) ( maybe) He took wonderful floral pictures and had a good eye, truly. His placement of objects and lines, were perfect and new. He wanted to be a Warhol , but his timing was off. I think some of his stuff was better. ( BUT I am not a Warhol fan) He was a gay man, in the aids fever. It took his  life, in its gruesome teeth. I think maybe art had consumed him much earlier. When ambition trumps art, things can go haywire. Dope and the seventies, narcissistic qualities running rampant through his veins, with catholic quilt on your back!
A gay man and a Polaroid camera.

I am glad to have learned about this young man. ( I picture him as young)
He would have made me nervous in his company. He was too raw, and careless, but he was an artist.
      Did he inspire me? Not really, but he made me think. Thinking is also art, or at least food for the artists soul.
   I continued on my research and read Patti Smith's two books, so my canvas grew. I learned so much more, about Robert and she, plus was blown away by her writing skills. Just Kids and M Train. I think she has others. Now she is an artist, creature of mystery and a life lived. ( she still lives, unlike Prince, to which I will never recover!!)
     The HBO show, watch is you are brave and a little off center!. Read her books, if you are curious and love the written word.
     If you love the arts, seek the bigger canvas, in this studio of life.
     The adventure, the journey, miracles, art is all around you. You canvas is huge!!!