On Friday I went to an exhibit at the Fenimore Art Museum called “American’s Rome: Artists in the Eternal City 1800-1900 that spotlighted the Roman themed work of 19^th century American Artists. The exhibit included many painting of ruins and the commentary on these featured a quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel The Marble Faun that I really liked:

“(America is) a land where there is no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong, nor anything but a common-place prosperity, in broad and simple daylight… Romance and poetry need Ruin to make them grow.”

Reading this I couldn’t help but add horror to Hawthorne’s list of ideas that require Ruin to thrive. Horror often mines ancient evils. Hawthorne himself looked back to his puritan ancestors in House of the Seven Gables and The Scarlet Letter. Later H. P. Lovecraft would create a dark New England of sinister in-bred ghouls and otherworldly terrors. Stephan King’s characters stir up paranormal discord by unearthing Indian burial grounds. America then does have its picturesque and gloomy wrongs, either uncovered or created, but I can see the appeal of European settings, of the “old world” and its imagery. Though it’s been tarnished by war, murder, injustice, evil and insanity America remains comparatively shiny and new.

In Alan Moore’s graphic novel From Hell there’s an amazing chapter where William Gull gives a tour of London spanning from druid times to the present day, revealing layer upon layer of history and mystery. It’s simply not possible to give such a tour of an American city. Because Native American culture and lore was essentially erased even the oldest parts of the country only go back a few centuries. The idea of a thousand or even two thousand years of documented, known, decaying history fascinates me.

It doesn’t surprise me that many of Edger Allen Poe’s most popular short stories are set in a mythical Europe and draw on centuries old imagery of the inquisition, skeleton filled catacombs and ancient family lineages. I thought of stories like The Pit and the Pendulum, Masque of the Red Death and The Fall of the House of Usher when I read Hawthorne’s quote.

I also thought of Hostel, a film I watched a couple of weeks ago for the first time. An extremely violent tale of American’s abroad who are lured to a hostel that provides victims for those willing to pay to murder and torture, Hostel was widely criticized when it was released for exploiting post-9/11 xenophobia and paranoia. Meditating on the quote by Hawthorne however I feel like it belongs in an older, gothic tradition where the American consciousness is mesmerized and frightened by the mystery and gloomy wrongs of an older world.

A couple of weeks ago I made up my mind that I would be moving back to my hometown in Upstate New York and even took the steps of informing my landlord and supervisor at work.

This morning I talked to my dad and we worked out when I’ll be leaving Chicago in September right after my niece’s 5th Birthday which is on 09/20/09. My father (who is capable of making long road trips on his own) will be driving out with his van and we’ll drive back to New York together. I’m going to be giving up my beat up 1999 Ford Escort which isn’t up to making the cross country trip. When I get to New York I’ll be able to use my grandmother’s car as she really can’t drive any more.

My pragmatic, Capricorn side is exerting itself at the moment and existential angst over whether or not I’m making the right decision has taken a back seat to practical consideration of dismantling my apartment.

I’ve started the whole elaborate process of cleaning and sorting out what I’m going to keep (clothes I wear regularly, books, CDs and DVDs) and what I’m going to throw or give away (everything else). Going through my stuff I find that I have a lot of artwork—fan art, drawings and some small craft stuff I’ve done-- that I really can’t take with me and can’t bear to throw away.

So I thought I’d offer it up.

If you’re interested in receiving a handmade drawing/collage/craft item comment on this post and/or email me the request along with your address at bitter_fig@yahoo.com and I’ll pick someone out for you from my stash and send it along. Of course I don’t have a bottomless stack of stuff to give away so it’ll be on a first come, first serve basis.

Edit 07/20/09-- I'm pretty much out of artwork now so I'm closing the offer. Thanks everyone for your interest.

“Oh it’s nice to be liked but its better by far to get paid.”

Liz Phair

Shitloads of Money

I made my first sale on Etsy.com, a pair of green haired dolls head earrings.

I find it’s a huge boost to my confidence. To me, there’s something so validating to know that someone is willing to sell out $10 plus shipping for something I made. It does make me realize how closely value as in personal worth and value as in dollars and cents are linked for me. I’ve always felt like there’s something wrong with me because I don’t do anything that earns a significant amount of money,

I’m afraid I’m very much a product of the Protestant work ethic. My father has always been able to get paid for doing the things he enjoys—preaching, coaching, refinishing furniture and dealing in antiques. I’ve occasionally been able to get paid for my art and writing—but for the most part I feel like the things I enjoy are financially “worthless.”

I need to look at this attitude of mine. I spend a lot of time feeling inferior to others because I’m a lowly supermarket cashier yet I’m aware that having a high power career and lots of money doesn’t make you a better or a happier person or more intelligent, creative or kind. I need to remember and appreciate that there is a worth in my art, my writing and in myself separate from monetary value.

(Though I am pretty proud of my sale and my little Etsy.com shop.)

Etsy Buy Handmade mimibutch

Since I was home sick I set up an account on Esty.com (under the username Mimibutch) and posted some of the Shrinky Dink jewelry I’ve been making. 

I hope I'm not charging too much.

My sister gave me a necklace made of Shinky-Dink material for Christmas.  If your not familiar with Shinky-Dinks, they were a craft/toy popular in the 80’s, sheets of clear plastic that you could draw on with colored pencils that shrunk when you baked them in the oven.  I loved making Shrinky-Dinks when I was a kid and receiving the necklace brought back enough pleasant memories that I stopped by the craft store and picked up a packet of Shrinky-Dink sheets (Grafix Shinkfilm actually, but I consider Shrinky-Dink like Kleenex- a brand name that can be used to describe a kind of product regardless of who makes it). 

 

Over the past few days I’ve been messing around trying out some different designs and techniques (you can paint the plastic sheets which produces much richer colors than pencils).  I’ve even gotten some jewelry fixtures and an experimenting with making earrings and necklaces.    

 

I’ve been really pleased my results and I want to see if I can put a bit of an inventory and trying to sell things at some of the local alternative craft shows here in Chicago and through esty.com. 

 

Having this spark of enthusiasm means a lot to me right now because lately my life has been pretty flat and joyless.  I’m sick (again), depressed (still) and I find myself thinking things like “I hate my life.  I’ve always hated my life.  I just used to think it would get better and now I know it won’t.”  It’s reassuring to know that I can still find enjoyment in doing things and making plans. 


psuedo-Warhol ice cream cone earrings


Catwoman pendant

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I did an Election Day Pin-up.
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This years X-mas pin-up is War from Good Omens.  I got the idea of using her from a mishearing of the lyrics of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's song Happy Christmas (War is Over).  I thought it went "And so Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  Let's hope it's a good one without any war."  The lyrics are actually "Let's hope it's a good one without any fear" but it gave me the idea of doing a Christmas picture of War. 

Here she is.

I was scheduled to be off at the market Saturday, Sunday and today then yesterday I ended up having to call in because I had to take my car into the shop so I’ve had an unprecedented four days off.  Keep in mind of course that three of those days I’ve been working at the office but still, it’s nice to get away after the craziness of Thanksgiving week. 


I spoke to Mum last night and she pretty understanding about my working during her visit (I requested time off but was scheduled anyways).  I will have one day off during her visit, Sunday, so we can do something that day.  I’d like to take her down to see the windows of the State Street Marshall Fields (previously Macys).  My sister took her children and was showing some pictures she’d taken on Thanksgiving and the displays looked absolutely gorgeous—they’re scenes from the Nutcracker Suite, which is one of my favorite holiday stories. 

One of the versions of the Nutcracker I love the most is the picture book illustrated by Maurice Sendak.  I just started reading The Art of Maurice Sendak: 1980 to the Present, which I found in the library yesterday.  It’s a huge, beautiful oversized art book and the text is by Angels in America playwright Tony Kushner.  While I love Sendak’s earlier wrote, (Chicken Soup and Rice, What Do You Say Dear and Where the Wild Things Are were staples of my childhood) I’m fasinated by a lot of the things he’s done more recently-- dark, melancholy children’s stories like Dear Milli and Outside, Over There (which I've always thought influenced the film Labyrinth), art in his “old world” style, and more adult illustration and theatrical design (including The Nutcracker and the Holocaust themed dance production he created  with the Pilobolus Dance Theater at my old alma mater SUNY College at Purchase which is the subject of a documentary, The Last Dance). 

I’ve known for years that Sendak considers Mozart and William Blake huge influences but I was interested to learn that another is Herman Melville, particularly his novel Pierre or the Ambiguities which Sendak did a series of illustrations for.  I’ve never read Pierre. I know of it mainly because several years ago I saw a film, Pola X, that updated and adapted it (I actually saw his movie when I was on a visit to Chicago, at the theater in the  Fine Arts building on Michigan Avenue which has since closed).   I think I’d rather like to read it now if only to understand what’s happening in Sendak’s beautiful illustrations that evoke both the ballet and the works of William Blake. 

To celebrate their 40th Anniversary The Museum of Contemporary Art is waiving admission for 40 days between September 29 and November 14.  There’s an exhibit going on right now called Sympathy for the Devil: Art and Rock and Roll Since 1967 that I’ve been wanting get to and since I wasn’t working either of my jobs yesterday I decided to go see it while it was still free. 

 

I have to admit I’m a bit of a Philistine when it comes to Contemporary Art.  To me, about 90% of it seems like a con.  In fact my favorite Contemporary Artists are the ones like Jeff Koons and Andy Warhol who sort of acknowledge that they’re hacks.  Still, amidst the usual meaninglessly esoteric video and installation pieces there was some genuinely neat stuff in the show. 

 

My favorite pieces were in the area dedicated to artists/musicians from the Detroit area (the show was sort of divvied by geography—New York, L.A., Europe, Detroit, etc).  The Destroy All Monsters Collective, which is both a noise rock band and a group of artists made up of Mike Kelley (probably best known for the cover of the Sonic Youth album Dirty), Carey Loren and Jim Shaw (pop noir artist Niagara is also affiliated) had series of paintings modeled on sideshow banners and civic pride murals depicting the Detroit’s pop culture icons from White Panther leader John Sinclair to James Brown to Soup Sales to George “The Animal” Steele and Iggy Pop.

 

I also was intrigued by a video installation titled “The Spirit Girls: A Western Song” by Marnie Weber.   It was a film of about 24 minutes that followed a group of white faced women in 19^th century gingham dresses and straw hats who moved through a surreal and theatrical countryside and an old west type town.  The imagery was deeply seeped in Americana— farm animals, hobos, a Barnum and Bailey style circus, musicians playing the banjo and the saw.  According to the blurb outside the instillation, “The Spirit Girls” was about an imaginary all-female band whose members all died at the same time and was also inspired by the 19^th century Spiritualist movement. 

 

This really struck a chord with me as I spent many years obsessively collecting the recordings of all-female and female dominated bands in all musical genres and also because it gave me some ideas of what I want to be doing with my writing.  I’ve resolved to return to original writing and I’m interested in writing about the area I come from, the strange sense I’ve always had that a history of prosperity and significance existed simultaneously with a desolate present. 

 

Because of my parent’s interest in history and my own reading, I was always aware that the fallen down places along the roads once meant something, that the rickety old people they dragged us to see came from families that had at one time had mattered.  When I was growing up the past always seemed more important than the present

 

My parents were interested in agricultural history and the daily lives of ordinary people in the 19^th century, especially involving the hops trade in our area.  The areas of history that attracted me were of a different kind.  I paid attention when Edith Wharton mentioned familiar places in her novels like the train station in Utica or the seedy village of Richfield Springs which had apparently once been a summer destination for smart New Yorkers.  I was also fascinated by the idea that the very narrow-minded world I inhabited for so long had once been teeming with religious radicals.  It was in Upstate New York that Joseph Smith supposedly found the golden tablets on which the book of Mormon was written.  Of course that was outside Rochester, a couple of hours away.  Closer to home Ann Lee founded the Shakers, a sect that practiced celibacy but who would dance with abandon in services that sound almost like voodoo rituals and be processed by the spirits of Indians.  Then there was the Oneida colony, a utopian community founded before the Civil War that communal society that practiced a form of “complex” or group marriage. 

 

In the 1960’s where was a similar influx of radical ideas into the area but by the time I came along it had more or less dwindled into a few strange recluses raising sheep in the hills around Cherry Valley.

 

It’s a landscape I’ve always wanted to capture in fiction though I haven’t tried since I got away from it.  In a way “The Spirit Girls” was almost like a glimpse of the kind of thing I’d like to do, except with an actual narrative.

The Spirit Girls