Been there, done that, got the socks.
Cara and I went down to AP on Friday night, just us girls. We went to Rumors, then up to the Hub where we went shopping. I got a tee, a button and a Monroe/Belknap chocolate bar (milk chocolate with gummy fish and kettle chips). And free socks! Cara did some serious shopping, and scored all that plus a tour guide and a Center City chocolate bar (dark chocolate with chilies and lime).
We were up at the Children's Museum, walked the neighborhoods, and went to XO for Asian food. It got chilly, but we insisted on the festivity of eating on the sidewalk cafe. This changed my order from sushi to Thai.
We headed towards Rosa Parks Circle, enjoying the sites, looking at the art in the shop windows and debating the merits of each. Hearing the bands, we went to the BOB.
Oh holy crap. The BOB was a mass chaos of food, booze, art, performance, and... well... stuff.
Here's the problem with the BOB as a venue. Outside, no problem - it was a carnival of color, light, music and motion. It was fun, the crowd was into it, there was lots to see and do. I loved the artist on the scaffolding next to the bandstand who would "paint" the concert as it was happening. There was a sand artist there too, creating a new sand painting every day, so beautiful. There were large sculptures, viewer participation, and of course beer tents.
Then we headed inside... ugh. The experience immediately became hot, chaotic, loud, and annoying. We headed into Crush, with their dress code and judgement, to check out the pieces that were there. The sequined portrait was cool, but similar to what we've seen before with push pins, BBs, corks, etc. The DJ was playing everything as loud as humanly possible, and being our chic but obviously 40-ish selves, a little out of place among the high heeled and minidressed little girls that were there to be seen.
It got progressively worse, as we wove our way through the throng, attempting to peruse without interrupting some one's dinner or conversation. Some of the work deserved better of the venue, four amazing portraits with the subject's stories etched into the lines on their faces, were sequestered to a corner of the Monkey Bar.
We anticipated our Saturday with one vow:
BUDDHAS!
There is an artist whose whole concept is giving and seeing where his art ends up. The results are 10,000 little Buddha statues all over the city. When we saw the Buddhas at the UICA, we vowed we would get one for ourselves.
Saturday, we crawled up Fulton on our way to Rumors, and there they were on the ledge, three Buddhas remaining. Like a woman possessed, I pointed and shouted "BUDDHAS! Go, go, GO!"
Cara bolts out of the car, leaps over a shrub, shimmies between spectators on the sidewalk and snatches two of the three while I randomly shout coaching/encouragement from the car.
Cara leaps back into the car and triumphantly hands me the porcelain figure. Without skipping a beat, we joyously shout "BUDDHA!" and exclaim over our good fortune.
Cara spotted all these t-shirts spread out on one of the Heartside's side streets. When we stopped to inquire, it was a "happening" orchestrated by Assocreation, an artists' group/collective based in Belgium/Ann Arbor. They were looking for volunteers to be team leaders in getting the project started, and we agreed to do it.
I was in charge of a paint station, wetting sponges with paint for people to step on and then step on the tees. Since we were juggling Will, Cara took over taking the completed stomped shirts over to the venue to be hung.
The whole project fascinated us on several different levels. According to the artists' statement, the idea behind the project was to create a visual impression of our footprint on the world. It was also fascinating as a group artwork, watching how participants worked at leaving their mark on the shirts.
It was also interesting from a psychological standpoint. We spent a precious afternoon hour cheerfully working at an event in which the only benefit to us were free crappy t-shirts that had been stomped on in the dirty street. And we were not the only ones -- there were 20 of us that cheerfully went about this work as directed by the slim redhead with the voice of a bullhorn. She bossed us with authority, and just enough positive reinforcement to keep us going.
That puzzled me, and when I attempted to read the artists' statement, one of the Assocreation team members, a blonde with a camera who was capturing the event, stopped me to ask why I was leaving. I told her, "I wanted to read what your philosophy was on the project. I'm doing all this work for this event for free, and I hope the message is positive. I'd hate to do all this only to have you mock us for being suckers." That is when I read about the footprints on the world, and she assured us the message was a good one.
So, a few moments to participate in a group art event, and three free tees. Yes, Will got one too.
Leaving a choice phrase behind in honor of one of my professors. One might ask me, "what have you learned?"
Any regular reader *crickets* knows I have some self-esteem issues. When it comes to me being in ArtPrize, I worry someone is going to scornfully rip the facade away and expose me a hausfraud (get it?!) Even though I gave the painting lots of thought in terms of color, composition, message, meaning, right down to the rose petals, I self-consciously worry about the legitimacy of considering myself an artist.
Perhaps, finally, I can put those fears to rest.
Unloading the painting from the car and into the venue, the tough but sweet bartender, a seen-it-all kind of gal, assisted me getting the painting up and her weathered face warmed when she saw it.
Meeting artist #1 at the reception, I handed her a card and she gave me hers, explaining our art's meaning. We shared our stories as moms, me with the child who survived his dangerous beginning and she with tales of the one who didn't. We hugged within 5 minutes of our initial meeting.
I was introduced to yet another artist, a 94 year old fabric artist. Drinking fruity drinks, she drilled me on my concept and my message, which I was able to share in depth. With tears in her eyes, she shared a family story that took place 89 years ago. Her mother gave birth to her younger sister at the same time a sickly young woman gave birth to her child. Unable to care for her newborn, doctors asked the artists' mother if she could wet nurse the child until the mother was strong enough to come home. She took care of the baby for two months. When people came to take the baby, the children in the family protested, but the mother protested, and told them that God gave them a wonderful opportunity to nourish the child and give her health. Again, another hug.
A Rumors regular had fallen in love with it, and has asked, if it's not too much trouble, if I'd be willing to leave it up for his Breast Cancer Awareness benefit in October.
A makeup artist burst into tears seeing it, as his boyfriend's grandmother recently died of breast cancer, and said "I have to bring him to see this, he will love it."
I've recieved compliments on my choices of color, the composition, the curly hair signature, my subject matter, and how fresh the petals look as a non-traditional frame.
Then there's the artists' attitudes. Of course I had one smarmy guy dismiss me in an exchange of cards. But so many others have been kind, respectful, and have been welcoming in a kinship of creative I haven't felt since college. One artist, whose smile made my painting glow, asked me if I considered myself an abstract expressionist or a conceptualist. I bashfully admitted that I was a graphic designer by training and didn't consider my style to be anything but my own quirky thing. He accepted this and my work with appreciation.
Finally, there was this, from Dave's cousin Liz:
"So we discussed ArtPrize today in my drawing & design class. I was the only one who knew someone who is participating. My teacher thought your piece was inspirational because you based it off of Will. She loved it. Just thought I'd tell you (:"
I was the matter of discussion in a high school art class! I bored freshman art students! There's something nerdy-cool about that.
