Friday, March 16, 2018
One of my favorite albums is "Green" by what is likely my all time favorite band, REM. I played my really old CD in so many different cars, dragging it to college twice and otherwise treating it rough, giving it a few serious scars. The scars didn't become a problem until I copied all my music to iTunes several years ago. "Green" copied but only one song would play. My favorite song on the album wasn't there. I've been without it for years. ("You Are The Everything" look it up.)
I found a few copies at used record stores and checked them. All scratched. A few weeks ago I found one that wasn't scratched and snatched it up. Back home I discovered it wouldn't copy to iTunes. Ugh. I so wanted to have the physical copy of the album instead of a soul-less digital download but I'm at my wits end.
I saw REM in concert in August of 1999. I'll admit to being a bit of a concert snob. I want to see live music in small venues. I don't want to pay a mortgage payment to see an hour of music and when I do see the music I want to actually be able to see it. With my eyes, not on a big screen beside the stage. By the time I got into REM in high school, they were already a stadium band. The concert in 1999 was a big deal though. Bill Berry, one of the founding members of the band had recently quit the band to spend time on his farm in Georgia. The band opted to get guest drummers to fill in and continue on. This concert though, was going to be a hometown show. Atlanta was just a short drive from Athens where the band first met and from Berry's farm. Everyone assumed he would be there. Everyone hoped he would play a couple of songs with them.
I was thinking about this concert last week. August of 1999 was a long time ago. I had just started grad school and was basically going to have to stay up all night to make the concert and still be at work and school the next day. I remember being very tired. I also remember Bill Berry being at the concert. There was a crazy bunch of hoodlums as the opening act. They all wore costumes and rubber masks. When REM started playing they kept mentioning Berry and dedicating songs to him. They kept looking backstage which made everyone think he was there and was on the verge of coming out to play. In my memory, he came out to a standing ovation, waved shyly and then sat in on the drums for a couple of songs.
But what actually happened was he came out to a standing ovation, waved shyly and then ducked backstage, never to be seen again. And I'm sure about this. Luckily for me and my memory, there are people dedicated enough to journal these things and post them on the interwebs.
I understand that what I remember is what I want to remember. It's what I wanted to be true. I saw it in my mind well enough for it to register as a memory. I can see him taking his place behind the drum kit right now. It's just that it never happened.
I've been thinking about this all week. I've got a lot of stories in my head. My dad told great stories to us when we were growing up. I had a pretty fun childhood and some crazy friends so I've got a few stories of my own. What's going to happen to them?
Sometimes we'll be doing something with the kids and a story will pop into my head. If it's appropriate, I'll tell the story to the kids. They'll laugh and giggle and ask me to tell it again and again. Every once in a while I get this weird feeling as we're sharing a story. I feel it like it's my dad sharing the story with me. I remember what that felt like as a kid and how it bound us together. On this side of parenthood I now see it as a way of living on through your children. When I'm no longer telling stories, my kids will be driving their kids somewhere and they'll remember the story about some midnight teenage shenanigans their dad may or may not have been involved in and they'll share that story with their family.
And Bill Berry not playing the drums that night has me thinking that it might be a good idea to record these stories somewhere for safe keeping. I mean, the details are important. There's a big difference between the founding member playing a song and not playing a song. If I had kidnapped a life sized concrete dog sculpture and painted it garnet, I wouldn't want time and hazy memory to turn that color to blue. It would lose the whole Clemson/Carolina angle of the story, you know? That was a hypothetical situation. I would never steal or vandalize Kenny McDowell's Dalmatian lawn ornament. That would be wrong. But if I did, I'd want someone to tell it right.
I'm going to have to find a way to document some stories. Maybe I'll tell more to Blue and Violet. Maybe I'll post some here. Maybe the sketchbook will have to catch the ones that are not age appropriate or suitable for public consumption.
But Bill Berry was there. He didn't play but he was there. The concert was really good, the seats were good and Michael Stipe looked just like me. He still does. You can Google it.
A postscript for any students reading: In August of 1999 I was working full time and attending graduate school. The concert was on a weeknight. I drove 4 hours to Atlanta, saw the show, drove 4 hours back, slept an hour or so and was at work at 6am the next morning. After work I drove 1.5 hours to school and never missed a minute of class. That's how you concert. Take note.
A postscript for anyone old enough to appreciate it: There was an amateur band handing out demo cassette tapes at the exits of the concert. That band was Train.
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Last Friday was College Art Day at the SC State Museum in Columbia. Art Departments from colleges and universities all over the state set up tables at this event and provide information to several bus loads of high school art students from the midlands area. The cool thing about this recruiting opportunity is that it is student led. The museum asks that students from each department be present to talk to prospective students. I'm the faculty volunteer and this usually means I carry the box into the building.
Once the box is carried inside, the students take over and set up the table to their own specifications. This year we had Katherine (The Gazelle), Sabrina (Captain Side Eye) and Jamea (J-J-J-Jamea) as our student representatives.
When I first started doing these recruiting events for Lander years ago, no one had ever heard of us. If anyone had heard of the university, they had no idea we had an art department. This was high school students, parents and even some high school teachers. But thanks to some creative swag and some good publicity over the years, now we get swarmed when the students arrive.
Students and teachers alike come to see what kind of stuff we're giving away this year. And once the swag brings them over, our student reps engage them with personality and win them over. Some of these high school students come every year and we know them by name. They've known for years they were going to apply to Lander. It's great. You may also notice in the photos the empty tables in the background. Universities who don't bring students, don't have good swag and lack in the personality department....they don't exactly bring the kids to the yard.
I'm just there to have fun. And stack cups to the ceiling. Being fun is the key.
Don't get me wrong, this is a lot of work. I get out easy and I still have to register everyone, organize lunch orders, convince students to go and put in a long Friday of being social. The student reps miss a day of classes and have to make up work. This is also the Friday before spring break for us so they have to put off leaving a day early for break and drive to Columbia before heading home. They get up way earlier than usual for this and they have to put up with me all day! To reward this extra work, we try to make it as fun as possible.
After the high school students head back to their buses and we pack up our table, we get to enjoy the museum for free. There's always a good art exhibit to coincide with College Art Day. This year it was the 50th Anniversary Exhibit of the State Art Collection. There was a Jim Arendt.
And a Tom Stanley.
And a lot of other cool stuff. Oh, and Armir, fresh back in the country from active duty in the Air Force, joined us to hang out most of the day.
This very small sculpture won us over. We spent a lot of time trying to figure it out.
The regular museum exhibits are also pretty fun. Especially when you're a bunch of goofballs.
Our curiosity led us to the top floor where we could see a lady working on the big telescope. She motioned for us to come inside and she showed us the surface of the sun on a computer monitor. The telescope showed some cool activity on the surface. You could see gas eruptions coming off of the surface. It was very cool.
We also got to see the Leo Twiggs exhibit "Requiem For Mother Emanuel".
A couple of years ago 9 people were killed inside Emanuel African Methodist Church in Charleston. The person responsible doesn't deserve any recognition but I mention this person only because this series of batik paintings follows the progression of emotions from immediate horror to complete forgiveness. This person worked out of hatred but may have accidentally done more for racial peace in our state than any activist.
This piece by a different artist was just outside the exhibit. It may have been as moving as the other 9 paintings. My students moved through this one quickly and didn't want to discuss it. I had some ideas about the exhibit before I saw it in person and I have some ideas now. We could discuss over coffee sometime.
Once we were all museum-ed out, we headed out for an early dinner in town. I let the students pick the restaurant, but we made a quick stop at Publix to get a red velvet cake personalized for Sabrina. She's having a birthday over spring break and she failed to come by the sculpture studio for the traditional, non-edible sculpture cake.
So we surprised her with a personalized cake after dinner, complete with a poor rendition of "Happy Birthday".
After dinner and cake, Armir told us we had to try "Insomnia Cookies". None of us had heard of it so he navigated us across town and we got a dozen cookies, mostly to take home to my kids because we were all stuffed. The cookies ended up being free which was really cool of them. Apparently you can order them online so go to insomniacookies.com and support these nice people.
After that it was time to drive through Columbia's notorious rush hour traffic to officially begin our spring break.
Monday, March 5, 2018
Disaster is not the correct word, it just rhymed. It's more like a "plaster evil master plan" or as my freshmen students call it, "project 2". With the horrors of "project 1" building their character and with me asking ridiculous questions and engaging them in odd conversations, each of my ART 106 (3D Design) classes is developing it's own personality. While students come into this second semester class generally knowing who their peers are, in this new class they may really only know a couple of people. And they have no idea what to think about me. They've heard things about me and my classes. They've been warned about my projects. They've received an entire semester's worth of weekly emails inviting them to slog with us.
Studio art students need to learn to work in community and learn to take full advantage of the studio environment. They need to learn to work together and help each other out. That's where the plaster project comes in. It's my favorite - mostly because of plaster pouring day and how that changes the entire group. I wont bore you with the details but I will share the juicy photos...
I forgot to get a "before" photo of the MWF class. But this is what happened about 2 minutes into plaster pouring day. The plaster leaked out of the mold faster than I could pour it in.
The gushing plaster brought every available hand in to put pressure on the leaks. The idea is that slowing the leak will give the plaster time to start to set up. It's a good theory.
I almost remembered the "before" photo for the morning TR class. This is half of them. The other half were frantically duct taping their forms in the other room, racing against a ticking clock and a shouting McAbee. Notice how clean they are?
30 seconds later....
30 seconds later. The puddle of plaster just kept growing. That's why the plastic is there. With everyone trying to apply pressure and keep the plaster on the plastic, it quickly becomes a messy game of Twister.
I am not a fan of pink duct tape. It annoys me in general. But with rainbows and unicorns on it...I gave in and loved it.
Look at the expression on Grace's face. At this point, she had totally given up hope and started laughing pretty much non-stop. She has a really good snort when she laughs.
And check out Katherine's expression. This is exactly how I feel about plaster pouring day. I know there are students who hate it because it's messy and because their project explodes, but everyone has a good time. It's pretty much the best class ever.
An aerial view of the madness.
Check out Rashad's shoe protectors. Plastic bags tied over the Jordans. Classic! Also, yes, there's a naked mannequin on the sculpture studio. It's a project.
And this is the "after" photo. I was a little late taking it and lost a few people to the next class but they all looked similar. Those are the faces of survivors. Joy, sadness, regret mixed with a healthy dose of relief. These are changed people.
This is as close as I got to a "before" photo of the TR afternoon class. First pour, first leak. That's Emily in the background. Students from previous years always enjoy coming back on plaster day to watch the show. At one point we had more people watching from the sidelines than we had in the actual class.
I enjoy observing people as you may know. I love to watch the faces of the students during the pouring. While 6 of these students are jumping in to help the one student whose mold we are pouring, they are laughing nervously. You can almost watch the exact moment when they process this information and realize that their own mold is going to leak like a screen door. That's a very entertaining moment for me.
You also get to see how far a student is willing to go to save their project. Cali had way too many seams and she knew hers was a time bomb. She sacrificed herself and wrapped her entire body around her mold to hold it together. It may have been a little awkward but it worked.
But the teamwork is the best. They all jump in and help each other. They suffer together and grow closer. They also beg the peanut gallery for help and mean people like Ricardo laugh hysterically at them and say no.
Hannah thought hers was built to last. There were only a couple of minor leaks on the first pour. But then gravity raised it's ugly head. That's what happens when you believe in gravity.
This is the exact moment Kelsey gave up on life. Nah, hers filled up eventually just like all the others.
Then the clean up began. 3 classes poured, 31 students or so. We went through a lot of plaster and made a huge mess. When the relief and exhaustion set in, Yessica started free styling some clean up raps. It was hilarious and painful. Let's just say she likes to rhyme words with the exact same word. Here's a line from her new album dropping soon, "My name is Cali and I like to mop, I made a mess and I cleaned it up with a mop." Poetry.
After spring break they'll turn these plaster forms into well-thought-out, very effective compositions. They'll know how to wipe their feet effectively before exiting the studio. They'll have a pretty good idea their professor is evil. And they'll have a shared experience that will help them in untold ways for the next 3 years.