Tracy

god, whoever drew that must have been seriously depressed

;-)

okok, check it out. let's start from the top:

1. whimsical mtns. with fog clearly separating them from the rest of the drawing

(great heights that are clearly obtainable, just not at the moment because....)

2. figure is crouched on a stage-like platform and is obviously pouting

(figuredude, get with it yo! you know what you wanna do. you're on the freaking stage...)

3. and the stage is flipping pages

(um yeah, cause the figuredude's state is purely temporary)

well, if we were to hypothetically psychoanalyze the mind-state of the artist, we would say that the artist was probably mourning the death of a close cousin. and trying to figure out how to get through all life's difficulties without being so Dramatic as to go off and kill oneself since there is really no need to have more suicidal events in a family than Absolutely necessary.

WHO DOES THAT?!?!

there are many stages of grief apparently. i've found 5 stages of grief, 3 stages of grief and 7 stages of grief. i'm sure there are more.. it's whatever your personal preference is i guess. looking back, i think i followed most closely the 3 stage grief thingie and it took about 7 years. actually, 7 years coming up. that's freaky, but only to me because i give it meaning... cause nothing is related and everything is related simultaneously.

dig it?

3 STAGES OF GRIEF

Numbness

Disorganization

Reorganization

Chelsea

I took a trip to the East Coast a couple weeks back and was able to see Philippe Parreno's Suicide in Vermillion Sands exhibit at the Friedrich Petzel Gallery. His sketches felt like my brain on paper, plastered all over those walls in bright red pastel. There was a little back room where a magician made things disappear. I missed the magician. This is what I saw instead:



Perrano had listed the names of the 31 graphic designers from whose art he had derived his inspiration for the show. I didn't know that at the time, but had felt like writing all their names down... since I didn't, I now have a little Treasure Hunt ahead of me.

Random Shots

Growing up my Grandmother had the most delicious light mint green bathroom. Opening the cabinets procured the subtle scent of avon cold cream, v05 hot oil treatment and toothpaste. I remember feeling so calm inside my Grandmother's bathroom, knowing I would one day have her brilliant white hair and quiet graceful wisdom.

Hi Fructose

-In a past interview I read you were asked about the black humor that reverberates in your work. You said it could be a way to avoid being too corny and mentioned that you may be trying to work through that. I'd like to ask how that is working for you? To me, that sentiment reflects an endearing level of self-consciousness. The nervous giggle before saying what you really want to say.

-This is true. For me, I kept adding humor to an idea in order to be able to withstand criticism-by already saying, "Hey, but I'm not even serious if you think it's corny." Sort of like an alibi or a nervous giggle. At some point I figured it had nothing to do with what I wanted to make, but just being self-conscious. Looking around at my contemporaries I started to wonder if deep down some thought the same thing. That's why I brought it up.

[Esao Andrews in an interview by Annie Owens]

I like this drawing because it reminds me of the Capitola House. Slightly foreboding. Falling down the side of a cliff. I feel dread and comfort at the same time. The artist talks about a relationship when he refers to this piece (Separate Lives) and I think of family ties. Knowing this makes me like it even better.