BookLust

Snow!!!

Damn that Robot Johnny! He's always one step ahead of me.

You see, yesterday it snowed, really snowed for the first time. And it was sooooo lovely. I was in my studio, and I looked out the window, and the vision of white joy filled my heart so much I thought I would burst from the happiness. I wanted to share it with the world! But I don't have a digital camera (yet, dammit!), so I thought, when I get some time, I will do a sketch of what I see!

But alas, deadlines loomed heavy, and I did not get a chance to do a sketch yesterday. But that damn Johnny did!! You snuck into my brain and stole my idea, Martz!

So since I have more time today, I thought I would share my happiness in a different way.

Take that, Johnny boy!!!

Cater-Pillage

I'm curious. Has anyone here signed up for those reunion-type-get-in-touch-with-your-old-highschool-chums sites? You know, ones like Classmates.com and Reunion.com.

I confess that I have. And I'm trying to figure out why. It ain't like I'm gonna pay for the Gold Membership at Classmates just to get more detailed information on people that I haven't seen in over 20 years. At the basic level, you don't get a lot of info, other than the knowledge that if you recognize a name, you know that person has also taken a moment out of their assumingly busy lives to sign up for this site, too. So all you know is, that person is still alive, and has, like you, some sort of vague curiosity about the past.

It's a funny thing, the past. Some people wash it with a big pink brush and convince themselves that everything in their lives was always perfect, while others prefer to shit a big black turd on all their memories. As I get older I try to look at events in the past with some objectivity, but I know that really, that is impossible, because I am saddled with certain viewpoints that I cannot change, and also, I know that we all, whether deliberately or not, re-write the past to suit our present mental afflictions.

So I am amused to say the least, when I read some of the comments left by former classmates at my old highschool, on the chat forum for Classmates.com. Everyone is so positive. Everyone is so happy. Every memory is wonderful and cheery. These people apparently all had a fantabulous time in highschool, and some even go so close as to say that it was the best time in their lives. That just floors me. Are these people for real? Is there no one in that forum who felt lonely and alienated, ugly and shy and humiliated, miserable and heart-broken and desperate during those five long years in that hormone-filled building? Apparently not. So many times I have been tempted to share my favourite memory on that forum; my one story that stands out in my mind more than any other; my shining moment in the spotlight. But I figure they will think I am a psycho, and a downer, and I wouldn't want to ruin the happy-memory party.

So I will tell the story here.

When I was in grade 10, I created this funny-looking caterpillar for one of my art projects. It was created out of chicken wire and garbage bags for the most part. I bent the chicken wire in a semi-circular shape, and wrapped green garbage bags all around it. I made a big chicken wire ball for the head, and wrapped it in yellow garbage bags. I believe for the eyes and the antennae I used some sort of foam balls, and for the big pink tongue that stuck out of its mouth, I used a giant sponge. I made it so that a person could crawl underneath the body, and actually move around, and you couldn't see that a person was in this caterpillar contraption. I wrote a silly heart-felt diary about the whole creative process, which my art teacher loved; so much so, that in my mid-term report card she wrote: "If I could have a teacher's pet...it would be your caterpillar!"

I received a good grade for the project, and my art teacher hung the caterpillar on the wall right next to the teacher's lounge, so everyone could see it as they walked in the main hallway.

At the end of every school year in those days, our highschool put on a year-end concert, in which all the students were participants if they wanted to be; they could sing, perform skits, whatever. It was a chance to let loose, and be creative, without any teacher supervision to edit what was done. This event was held in our school cafeteria, because at the back of the caf was the stage where all the theatre events took place. That year, the caf was packed to the max. I was near the back of the crowds, so it was sometimes hard to see what was going on. One group of guys (I guess you could describe them as the wild, smoker's corner group type) were lip-syncing the song "White Punks on Dope" by the Tubes; they were really good, and the crowd was going totally nuts. You could feel it in the air; that animal/crowd mentality; things were starting to go out of control. All of a sudden, some kids ran on stage, with of all things, my caterpillar. In front of just about the entire school, these psycho-animals destroyed my caterpillar, live on stage. It was an indescribable moment. The people around me were hysterical, screaming with joy. At the end of the event, when the crowds dispersed, I went on the stage to see if I could put together what was left. It was pointless. The caterpillar was totally shredded. The only thing I could salvage was its tongue. Because of that event, the administration decided to cancel any future year-end concerts. Little consolation for me, I must say.

That story happened 26 years ago, and yet I can still remember it so vividly. My brother can't believe that I still get upset when I think about it, but he never had a creation destroyed in front of the entire highschool, so his perspective is a little different, I think. Ok, so I should let it go. But if all these chirpy people can get on this forum and talk incessantly about their peachy high school memories, why can't someone share the other side? Yes, I had some good times in high school, too, but I sure as hell had some major shitty times as well. I am so glad I'm no longer there. The present is, for me, the best place I wanna be.

But every once in a while, I gotta remember the caterpillar.

Spell-Check Your Ego at the Door

If you haven't noticed, in yesterday's post, somebody very kindly brought to my attention that I misspelled Jonathan Lethem's name. I was able to fix the 2nd re-covered book, because I still had the psd file, but the 1st re-cover shall remain as is, because I trashed the original file; and so there it stands, alone, as a painful but necessary reminder to me (and others!) of the importance of always checking the spelling of people's names, no matter how sure you may be of their correct spelling, no matter how much you may love that author's/artist's work, just double-check, ok?

Yesterdays' embarrassing goof-up created a great segway into today's post, which I was planning to write about, ironically even before I messed up Lethem's name.

I found out about this story from the forum Readerville, and I just had to share it with the world. Recently a library in the U.S. hired an artist by the name of Maria Alquilar to paint a library mosaic for them, which would contain many names of well known people. Apparently this artist misspelled 11 of those names, including people like Shakespeare, Einstein and Michelangelo. Well, the article goes on to say:

The artist said the names were spelled correctly on her sketches, but she got them wrong as she was doing the piece. She admits noticing "Einstein" was misspelled but choosing to go forward anyway.

"I just wasn't that concerned," she said. "None of us are particularly good spellers anymore because of computers. When you are in a studio full of clay, you don't give it much thought.

The library is willing to pay her another $6,000 to fix the mess, but it's looking like she's not gonna do it, because she's had such negative feedback about her work. In another article about this fiasco I read:

When asked whether she chose the words and names for the work or whether the city provided her with a list, Alquilar took an artistic stance in response. "The art chose the words," she said.

Oh pullleaaaaaase. I don't know where to begin. This artist's ego? Her pretentiousness? Her irresponsibility? Her stupidity? Honey, when an organization or a company commissions you to do a work that has text in it, for your sake, and the sake of the organization, check all the text. A few years back when I had to paint caricatures of famous Canadians on moose for the Moose in the City art show, I also had to paint all their names underneath. The list of names were given to me by the sponsor for the 2 moose I painted for them. I noticed that they had actually misspelled some of the names, and the reason I know this is because I checked every single name myself.

If you would like to read more about this story, check out this article here, and this one here and here. It will be interesting to see how this story unfolds.

Oh and if any of you guys ever notice any more spelling errors, by all means, let me know. But be nice about it, please. You don't wanna mess with this gal's ego.

An Important Announcement

We apologize for the interruption.

This notice is directed to all the various clients whom I have done work for, but have not bothered to pay me in a timely fashion.

Dear people. I am running a business. Not a hobby, not a charity, not a whim. Like you, I have bills to pay, and for some bizarre reason, these bill collectors don't give a rats ass if I can't get my clients to pay me for work I have done.

So the message is clear. Pay me. NOW. I've waited long enough. It's amazing how you all seem to have "administration problems".

And to any future clients who may want to try and pull this one on me, DON'T.

Thank you. You may now resume whatever.

Fall in Love all over again...

Pssssst.... can you feel it? There's something in the air – it's just a whisper now, but soon, very soon, it will shake you up and knock you over with its raucous laughter.

I always think of Fall as the feisty but reliable friend; perhaps she laughs too loud at parties, but she'll always be there in a pinch when life gets bittersweet; not like that flighty Summer, who only cares about how you look in a mini-skirt. And like any good friend, Fall will rejuvinate your heavy soul, for isn't this season all about new beginnings? Goody-two-shoes that I was, I couldn't wait for school to start, and smell all those familiar smells: old desks, pink erasers, chalk dust, rotting carpets. And all those new books that come out during this season! Just thinking about it puts me in a tizzy.

Fall is all those old clichés: cool breezes, long walks, cozy sweaters and hot tea. The first time I fell in love was in the Fall, and every year around this time my heart lurches, thinking about that wonderful and wretched time in my life, so very long ago.

Fall is my time, my season. My heart soars in anticipation of its arrival.

Creative Processed Cheeze

I would like to say a little bit more about my aversion to "creative inspirational" books. It's hard to explain, but I'd like to. I liken it to my revulsion towards any children's book whose prime directive is to teach a child "a lesson". If I ever encountered books like that as a child, I sure as hell stayed clear of them. I read books to be entertained and have fun. Not to learn life lessons from the goddamed Kabbalah, especially by a woman who not long before had published a book showing off her whoo-hoo for all the world to see. But I digress.

I have honestly tried to read some of these books in question. Some, like Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain I just couldn't finish, others, like anything written by this woman, just made me want to gag. What is the fascination with this SARK chick? Aside from the fact that for someone teaching all about creativity she can't draw to save her life, and her selection of colours makes me want to hurl, she just strikes me as another wacko phony baloney, a softer version of Anthony Robbins, just taking advantage of insecure people who hope that reading a book will dramatically change their lives.

Perhaps I'm just a die-hard cynic. But I'm more inclined to enjoy a book like How to Change Your Entire Life by Doing Absolutely Nothing by Karen Salmansohn. Actually, all the books published by this gal are hilarious. Because they are witty, well-designed, cynical, and most importantly, they don't take themselves too seriously.

Keri Smith's Living Out Loud is a fun book; I love the design, the drawings, the colours and all the great stickers, and her writing style is warm and friendly and approachable, and a lot of her suggestions are worth reading. But more than likely I will never do any of the exercises in the book. It just ain't me.

If I want to get more creative, I do what works for ME. Coffee really helps. Hot baths. Lots of alcohol. And just plain hard work. Either you are creative or you are not. Either you are talented or you are not. And even if you are talented (and that is so subjective anyway), making it as an artist is such a crap shoot. It's hard work, talent and luck. No one can teach you how to be an artist. It's good to get mentors, support, money, money, and more money, and lots of practical business advice. Oh yeah, and money. But ultimately it's a hard and lonely path that you have to travel on by yourself.