Down and dirty...

My goal for this year is to workshop the crap I lay by the wayside. This is my start. A bad poem that I hope will translate into something better...

It's as simple as sitting

Simple as a pose

as quiet as grinning

while a world implodes.

I imagine you waving

as if you'd always known

that I'd end up swimming

and overgrown

from your world of anger

and the slight circumstance

that you noticed me timing

your next second chance.

I've got this dock of memory

with you tied to it's side

as I serve up chowders and soups and stories and loops

in my New England pride.

I am the problem here.

I am the one cast aside.

I am the one who fought

to tie the knots that kept up with this tide.

It's all a loosely frayed metaphor

to honor the one I most loved

as I set him off to the sea-

It's not him, it was me-

and it all worked perfectly.

He built what I wanted.

and what I saw in him.

and I didn't stop him,

or cause him to hesitate

as my silly, impassioned ties that bound

never built a knot that couldn't break. 

So, here's to you.

I cheer from my bedroom floor

that is scattered with marks and memories

and the hope for something more

simple than sitting

and posing the past

in the form of grinning

and tying off one more last

Baby, it's cold outside...

So...my thesis semester is about to begin at Columbia, and I've spent much of the holiday season working with the dynamics of my thesis proposal, which goes a little like this...

Abstract:

Loss is Expected is an installation manipulated by direction, chance and discovery designed to examine public and personal atmospheres charged by motion, triggers, patterns and anchors.

This project is inspired by  the impetus of motion, the ideals that anchor both the cities and the individuals who exist within them, and the quest for discovering a personal world in a public sphere. 

I looked to my own life, and the cities in which I have lived-Kent, Ohio, NYC, Memphis, TN, and Chicago, Il. What struck me is that all of these cities have a significant common thread; each city has had an event, or series of events, that significantly changed the direction of the city. One city completely changed, another froze in time, one stopped to consider, and another constantly reaches for the spotlight. I applied these directional shifts to my own journey, and the movement I see to all sides of the path I have have been building. I've been revisiting the things I've kept with me-the photos,  journals, letters, trinkets, and common objects infused with memories, moments and revelry, to see where those lead now, in this time and place, only to understand that all of these things actually led here. It's a common journey, colored with experience, one that is directed by shifts and choices. Atmosphere is everything. 

And then...

Apparently, I got a little too wrapped up in political agenda and forgot how to properly upload photos of recent work...so here it is(I hope)

Okay, OKAY...I've been hiding a little(lot)! I've been overwhelmed!At first, I was overwhelmed with relief and a new sense of national pride by Obama's election...I still am. I didn't go to Grant Park, much to my family's chagrin. I went to my friend's house, so I could watch the returns, the speeches, and the responses, and quickly make an escape plan, if necessary(I have been through 2 Bush elections, haven't we all?). I did cry when Pennsylvania went to Obama. I didn't know how else to react, except with pride and fruition. Obama was going to win. The US was going to elect the right candidate, hands down. Like many, I had respected McCain for his service to our country, and his constant push. He was the Republican I liked. He seemed invested in his country and his experience. I was glad he was the Republican candidate...until he chose Palin as shock treatment and a really flimsy attempt to garner the support of the Hillary camp. Guess what...I'm a Hillary camp lady. I voted her into the NY senate, and I voted for her in the primary. I've followed her career for a very long time. Granted, when I voted for her in the primary, I was in Illinois, and it could be seen as a gesture but It wasn't. Obama was going to sweep Illinois, and I was proud of that. I was also proud to vote for Hillary. I guess I wasn't voting to win-I was actually voting from my heart and, were I not in Illinois, I may have paused longer.As I told my friends later, "Hey, I get to vote for Hillary now, and Obama in November," and then would give a quick recap of Hillary as what we have already known from her political career, when questioned. What a real freedom!FINALLY!To discuss candidates. Either way, we would win.I've never felt that way in an election. Anyway, the biggest offenseof McCain was choosing Palin as his running mate in a gender grab. It still is, as she now has national spotlight and is calling on the media for having more scrutiny on her than Caroline Kennedy. I actually feel sympathy for her, now that she is not at the healm of the second hand. She's not going quietly, and I don't fault her for that. However, blaming the media for not being as tough on Caroline Kennedy, who is vying for a senate seat, as opposed to the vice presidency of the nation, seems petty and grasping.Again, I don't blame Palin. I think it's telling of who she is and what she wants, which is simple. Something bigger than what she has. I'm reminded how relieved that she didn't win the election.Because the world is fucked right now, and I'm so relieved to have both Obama and Clinton to make the decisions that need to be made. I hope I keep agreeing with them.

None of this has anything to do with art.

I've been making some.

I've been working on the CD art for the upcoming Striding Lion album...The first is the wingspan for the interior of the CD case

Next is the cover-collage is clearly the deal here

And my thesis is still coming along. The title is "Loss is Expected" and focuses on that uncomfortable/euphoric time of transition that leads all of us to our next step, no matter how ambiguous or succinct it may be. My inspiration spans a few years and a couple cities. I've designed it as a walk-in pinball machine/photo booth/journal of experiences. It's an extremely personal piece, but much of that personal exploration has been found in a public aesthetic, so it makes sense in an awkward, weird and accessible vein...at least that's the plan. We will see how it goes

Thesis, hauntings, Alison Knowles, Oh MY!

Another day, another presidential debate. I wonder if Joe Six Pack and Joe Plumber know each other. I hope that Joe Plumber has a six-pack, and that Joe Six Pack has a plumber. Do they know how famous they are?

Anyway, neck deep in the initial stages of thesis in preparation for the departmental critique at Columbia on Tuesday, I've found myself in the frantic territory of detailing a work specifically enough to get approved, but ambiguous enough to allow the evolution of process that is intended for this piece. In the meantime, I've become a city hermit, spending my time in my studio, in class, tending bar, trolling museums, and scaring folks at The Silent Theatre's Haunted Sanitarium. It's silly and fun, and I forgot how much I enjoy working with make-up. I wish my face enjoyed it, as well. Alas...

I'm not going to get into too much detail on my thesis, as it is evolving in its very early stages. The initial working title was "Transient;what it means to move on," which turned into, "Transition and moving again" and continues to change. At this point, it is an installation piece combining waiting rooms, photobooths, pinball machines and the rate of motion in personal and political strife. I'm still on the fence about putting a performative element into it. I'm kind of obsessed with having the installation full of objects that can be activated, or not.

I'll have a better idea after my workshop weekend with Alison Knowles, kicking off on Halloween. So excited.So, so, so excited. I have also been reading "Fantastic Reality- Louise Bourgeois and a story of modern art," finally out in paperback.

In between articulation of my thesis, and everything else, I've really found solace in my studio, and have picked up some layers on a few paintings that have been begging for attention. In this space of reflection, consternation and some difficult remembrances, it feels good to have accomplished these layers.

Here they are!

1) Atmosphere is everything-Oil on Canvas

2) Judge, Jury and everything lost-oil on canvas

3) Lakeshore at night- acrylic on canvas

3)Vanity Box-Acrylic, US Weekly, and Resin on wooden box

Now back to banging my proverbial head on the keyboard...

Connected Images '08

The most influential, and frightening, course of my graduate study has been Connected Images(art camp!). During the last week of June and the first week of July, the Interdisciplinary Arts department began a retreat in La Porte, Indiana on the La Lumiere boarding school grounds. Prior to arrival, we were sent a rather cryptic tome of readings and general instructions, dealing with this year's theme, "In Real Time." On the first day, we were given marshmallows, sugar, honey and a swath of text with the instruction to create an "object" using these elements, and to build a site specific work.
The site I chose was quickly dubbed "Poop Island" due to the excrement of the many geese. I was attracted less by the poop, and more by the two-plank bridge that crossed onto the island, and the empty cross structure that had clearly, at one point, help a sign that was now missing, deeming it the only untitled island on the lake. Poop-ridden or not, it needed some love! I created a path of "marshmallows on sticks," leading from the mainland onto the little island, where my object hung. On each marshmallow, I had written a word, taken from the free-write response of text given, and had created a path of sugar and honey along the way(once on the island) hoping that it would create a path of ants to devour the sweet stuff. Turns out, ants don't dig poop island, either. Two days later, when our challenge was to create something out of the dissipation of our original project... mine was the only one completely intact...I took everyone on a tour, plucking the marshmallow on sticks, sans ants, from the ground, and leaving those with ants alone, pointing and proclaiming "That's alive". Once facing my object, I activated it as a dartboard with the "non-living" marshmallow skewers and sharpened sticks. I invited the tour to play, and left the space, to watch from the outer bank.

The next task was to form our original pieces into another form. I tend to play with the form and structure of text and communication, which probably comes from making sense of any and all text as an actor. I took my original free-write and forme a palindrome poem of sorts, with a tone from one end, that turns around and changes from the reverse direction. I wrote the poem in chalk on trees, creating another path in the wooded section of campus.

This led to a personal exploration of site specific work. After the tree poem was written, I felt there was not much more to do. So, I considered my work with text, path and layers, and chose the baseball diamond in which to get a bit more personal to involve the space I was accessing, outside of the city, among artists. I channeled the focus and playful atmosphere of one of my first favorite places.I created a tour, while physicalizing playing the game.I made the based for 1st-3rd, filled with different materials:1st-pine needles 2nd-pine cones 3rd-rocks
text:
This is a path of gravel stone and sand
asphalt grass and shit
I'm leading as you follow me
to the next mark.
This is a mark of chalk,charcoal and tobacco
the beginning of a cycle
of running circles around a diamond
until the game is won.
This is a game made of marks
and back and forth
running to catch safety
with the challenge to get ahead.
This is the challenge of ripping hair and breaking words
sliding in and tagging out
hoping to steal within the rules.
This is the rule of panic and belief
Taste your impending victory
despite the fear of going home
or getting out
This is the fear in the strategy of waiting:
Watching the path, unable to run.
Step back from the path, and away from the game
of catching flies and stealing seconds
See the history of triumphant victories and staggering losses
as what it is.
A simple path.
Trodden,
lonely,
and covered in clover

Femme Fatale:a visitation

Featuring new work from Columbia College Interdisciplinary Arts Graduate students Shay Atkinson, Karen Louis and Annie Perry, "The New Flesh" is a group show derived from the exploration of the Horror genre in cinema and literature, under the mentorship of Joan Dickinson and Matthew Owens. This show was featured at The Finch Gallery at 2747 W. Armitage, Chicago, IL on May 30th, 2008. The images are of the installation and femme, both before and after the performance. More images of the actual performance will come, as they are sent to me!!!

The components are as follows:

Statement:
Femme Fatale: a visitation

The femme fatale is an archetype commonly used in horror. She’s so much fun, and oddly trusted by those she leads into the horrific abyss of idolatry, ritual, sacrifice and damnation. In a cinematic atmosphere, she is a sexy villain: coy, serpentine, sardonic, and always coining the best lines and costumes. There is no limit to her potential for orchestrating terror and camp, at an equal rate. The human condition bores her to tears at times, amuses and irritates at others. After all, the human condition is the weakness on which she proudly preys.
In literature, she is more mysterious. Her darkness is her condition. Rather than a weakness, it is a given circumstance. She is demonized as a seductress, vampire, succubus, witch, and driven only by her need to seduce, possess and offer victims to her higher power, which does not belong to her, leaving her only option to seek her next victim as an obsessive link in a never-ending chain of wicked spinsterdom. She is indifferent, irresponsible and detached.
Neither of these depictions dare delve into the creation of the Femme Fatale. She is a character that other characters deal with, or die from. She has no real sense of identity. She is one-sided.
Tonight, I have invited you into a space that is rarely seen-her own. Explore her personal space, her rituals, her soundtrack, and her layers.

Have fun.

Karen Louis


Photo montages: 2 posted on the wall, one seperated and lined with corkboard, cut to fit together and seperate, as a puzzle/coasters. Each individual image is a close up on various angles of portions of my face or physical scars, brought together to build the same shapes with different features, and a few inside jokes, of course

Single Photos:All are variations of the same "headshot", with captions("bitch") or borders(generic baby shower motif), or color play

Decanters:2-one with wine, with "bitch" headshot as cork, the other with wax fingertip castings, traditional cork, dipped in wax

Glasses: one short(for wine-she drinks, wouldn't you?!?!), the other a shot glass full of wax fingertip casings

Memory Box:Painted in Acrylic, poloroid self portait affixed to the inside.
Novelty"Morning After Mint" box
The underside of the frame reads:
Rebuild
Regroup
Revolt
Rescind
Recant
Reassign
Realize
Remember

The topside of the bottom base reads:
I love you
I'm proud of you

Pitchers:2-one glass, filled with water, the other dark blue ceramic, filled with berries and beets, mashed

small wire-framed oval mirrors:6-five white, one black

Paintings:2-both acrylic on canvas-"faceless"9"x12", "Icon"10"x20"

Pathway:Butcher paper, spray paint, photos of facial portions, slate painted paving stones

Plastic serving trays:2

Rocking chair

Wooden writing box

Coat tree

Small table

Deck of cards

"dream machine" CD player

Soundtrack play list:
1)The Modern Things-Bjork
2)Hot as Ice-Britney Spears
3)Kinda I want to-Nine Inch Nails
4)Very Ape-Nirvana
5)I'm Not Your Stepping Stone-Monkees
6)Rise Above-Black Flag
7)I've Just Seen a Face-the Beatles
8)The Mercy Seat-Nick Cave& the Bad Seeds
9)At the Chime of a City Clock-Nick Drake
10)Heart Shaped Box-Nirvana
11)Bela Lugosi's Dead-Bauhaus
12)Dancing Barefoot-Patti Smith
13)Cuddly Toy-the Monkees
14)Headphones-Bjork

Spoken text:(note"-text-" is also written on paving stones, but not necessarily discernable)
She stands above like a convert, filling in the shape of memory
while I shove mine under my fingernails as proof
-identification-
-the blueprint of blame-
in a frame of flesh and nail
in a world of parking lot buildings
Hero Spaghetti
Viva Pizza
and passers-by clinging to each other for guidance
as they move through the celebrated
-city of grit-
filling in and blocking out the criminalized clues
as they build up before us in towers and turns
movement and metal
-contorting-
begging for color
screaming for serenity
through breaths of whiskey and exhaust
cleansing the palettes of those of us
-looking to be lost-
Every Inch a lady
a professor of nature
poised, intent,bemused
I build my own frames
to settle with the ones that stand before me
as the architecture of perspective
Beneath the empty flagpole of the World
and that wrinkle in my forehead that keeps my raising eyebrows
from flying off my face.
Once hopeful to the point of hopeless
now hopeless to the point of hopeful,
I stand atop my tower of soapboxes
like a convert
Shrugging my shoulders and twisting my face
to recognize the strength of people who have been traind to feed an addiction
Which could be religion
Which could be psychology
Which could be philanthropy
Which Could be alchemy
Which could be Law and Order
Lenny Briscoe and his brimstone
approaching in quips and smirks
professing his demons
enacting the stories not based on actual events
that I recognize from the headlines I keep on as my background noise
as I build and release my view
beneath the empty flagpole of the World
and below the marqee
and that windowsill between the two
where I've been pushing my DNA under my fingernails as proof
-identification-
and to keep my demons my own
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you've gotten this far and are still reading, I should give you something more interesting to play with. You deserve it!!! The idea behind this whole piece was to take an archetype, and give it a terribly human atmosphere. I chose the femme, really, because I'm a woman, and women have two options in this genre:victim or vixen.There is the heroine, but she tends to be more of a "lucky victim," most of the time, and that was boring to me. I wanted to play with demons. Walking into the space, it is structured as a living space-at first glance, it seems typical, but as you get in closer, the mundane becomes more complicated and uncomfortable. The movement of the character throughout the space is the same. She sits in her rocking chair, watching intently and closely as each person enters the room. She plays a skewed game of solitaire. She watches.She walks through the room, invading personal space, interacting, pouring water into the serving tray at one end of the path, and the beet-berry mix into the serving tray at the other end, in ritual. As the night continues, she begins to peel off her skin-literally, while watching and staring, saying little.

When the text begins, it is the end of her night-the final ritual. She removes her costume throughout, then her wig, hanging them on the coat rack. When she is is in her slip, she steps into berry-beet gore, and walks down the path. The final lines of text coincide with the literal ripping off of her face. Time to go to bed. Sleep well.