Monday, September 17, 2012- Day #9= Cityscape.
I took this photo of the Chicago skyline while driving (I know, right?! SO naughty!). The approach is from I-55 and from the south. It is my all-time favorite view. Sure, you can get a nice panoramic view from the Sears Tower (I'll never be able to call it the Willis Tower. That just sounds so...WRONG, and also reminds me of "Diff'rent Strokes.") or the Hancock Building or even an airplane, but this reminds me of driving back to the city after visiting my parents. There was always a real sense of anticipation and/or anxiety for me, always wanting so badly to get away from where I was from, always wanting to get to where I thought I needed to be.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012- Day #10= Abstract.
This is not a medium I'm adept at using- gouache. It is also not a genre I feel comfortable with, speaking from a creation stand point; my usual subject matter falls toward people and landscapes (oh, the predisposition of the Midwestern artist!). This was so much fun, however, that I modified this and led a similar project with the kids at work, where I quickly learned about the power of childhood creativity- so primal! Check it:
Abstract watercolor paintings using a masking technique from Paige W., Larrissa T., and Trevor W.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012- Day #11= A Turning Point.
A true story is the subject of this writing piece. I want to work on it more, refine it a bit, but for now, I'm satisfied with getting it out, you know?
A Turning Point
It was January, and the prettiness of the city in winter had changed from Holiday Pretty to Dirty Pretty: it was still snow covered and the cold made the streetlights and traffic signals and neon store signs still glow softly, intensely, but a salty gray pall splattered everything. So pretty, in a way.
We sat on the #81 Lawrence bus, out on the west end, just coming from the latest meeting with the agency we were working with, which was somewhere near where Lincoln and Western merge, that intersection just north of Montrose.
You were quiet, I was quiet. We never said much to each other after these meetings. We sat next to each other towards the back of the bus, me always by the window so I could stare out and think. I would think about what had just transpired and then what next was going to look like, and how or if you’d be a part of my every day. I think now that I knew then we’d be probably always be connected and in touch. Even then I knew you were an obligation.
The bus was overly warm. I pressed my head against the cold window and breathed with my mouth open, blurring the view, then wiping the condensation away with my cheap glove, then breathing again, wiping again.
CTA buses in the winter are always a gamble. Those giant polluting engines are too big to stay cozy while idling, and so the fact that the light had turned green, red again, and now green again while we sat at the corner didn’t seem unusual. We had nowhere to be. Some passengers grumbled about sitting for so long, though, and that’s when we noticed the crowd outside changing: businessmen and –women filtering into the crowd with the mothers and children. Toddlers walking at an angle, arm stretched up to a hand, snow boots barely touching the pavements. You asked if I was going to my apartment or yours, and if I wanted to stay. I shrugged, my eyes wide, I didn’t know.
The driver started to say something over the bus’ PA system, but it was garbled and mumbly. The drone of the engine mixed with the horns and car tires outside. Traffic noise, more cars and people making their way around the bus, moving on with the day. This was before cell phones and before I wore a watch, so we had no idea how much time had passed before the driver finally switched on the emergency lights and had us all exit the bus, paper transfers in hand. They don’t use paper transfers anymore. Or tokens, either.
I was very cold, and I was tired. I just wanted to go to bed, to curl up in a ball like a baby and sleep. When I think about how you were back then (and not just on that one day), it is clear that you were removed and not really all that interested in going back to the agency again. You were clear, in the only way you knew how to be, that you wanted me to make a goddamned decision, already. You were fine with not being in charge, or with not having your opinion matter. And all I wanted right then besides a bed was for you to be in charge, and to make your opinion known.
Thursday, September 20, 2012- Day #12= A (Recent) Best Moment/Memory.
Another writing piece that I really, really like and want to develop more, play with the POV. (You don't get to read this one.)
Friday, September 21, 2012- Day #13= Comic/Animation.
A drawing, quickly done. Maybe I'll post later? Nah.
Saturday, September 22, 2012- Day #14= Words/Quote Integrated Into Image.
I pulled a quote from a Raymond Carver story, "Intimacy." It's not a sex story- it is a testament to the complexities of relationships. Raymond Carver is a master. Read his work and weep at how you'll never be that good.
Sunday, September 23, 2012- Day #15= Group Picture.
This one I'm kinda excited about. It's really just a simple drawing I'm translating into thread, but to people who don't know any better, it could seem complex (hence, the sharing and talking about the process, see?). I'll have a pic once I'm a bit further on the piece and can break away from working on it. The image and the moment it captures also got me into some deep thinking about my wants and needs and (of course) circled back to identity and the things people expect from you, from the you they know.
Monday, September 24, 2012- Day #16= A Source of Irritation.
Lately, this is EVERYTHING. Just fucking look around. HA!
One thing I'm really appreciating about this challenge is that I'm really thinking about things during the creating portion, I'm forced to find a new way to see things in order to meet the challenge of the day- OH, FUCK! IF THAT ISN'T LIFE EVERYDAY!!!
(That was an Oprah "light bulb" moment, right there.)
(Also, I've fallen off the wagon on my "I'm going to try and curb my sailor mouth" thing. Me and swearing: "I wish I knew how to quit you!")
Until next time, friends.