Words on the Surface

Words -- text --   it's tricky in art. We literary types love it, but when it's part of our work, it can be misread, turn into preaching, take shape in a form that overpowers the image, and often adds little to the real language of visual art.

 

This workshop "Words on the Surface,"  was tried-out within a small setting  and 4 artists at the home of friend and colleague (and hostess impeccable) Liz Napier, and it proved a test of some new theories I'm working around. The full-blown weekend version will be March 10-11 at the Southwest School of Art and Craft (I'm sure there are openings still.)

 

First we used text (See Liz' study on left) in its most deconstructed manner, taking collages and reworking, cutting, tearing, deconstructing and reconstructing meaninful words and phases cut and torn from magazines. The results, if I do say so, were strongly graphic, dancing their context and content in ways that begged to be read in a new way. There is a kind of energy in text used this way, and it reminds me of work from Sister Corita (Corita Kent) and her students in the early 1970s.

Then letters themselves took centerstage in sunprints -- the colors are kind of ugly -- but the potential is there. You recognize the ubiquitous refrigerator magnet used as a "resist"? Again, layering the sunprints gave a depth and interest that could be used in more literary fashion than we did with these technical trials.

 

Another idea was to use words layered photographically, directly on fabric through the printer or copy machine. And we also made stamps using the fun foam letters sold in the crafts aisles for summer camp projects. Stacked and glued, these simple letters could be arranged to spell words, or deconstructed into pure shape and form.

 

Researching ideas for this workshop, I also came across some fun resources on the www. See what you think of these:

Letters, An art project by Asia Wong

An extreme example!

Computer “Raining Letters”

This one is fabulous

Online magnetic poetry sites

Anagram maker

PS-- There is room for one more at the Full Moon/Fool Moon workshop retreat at El Cielo this weekend -- studio bed only. This is one of a series of events at my home/teaching studio in the Texas Hill Country. For more information, check the link on the right side -- coming up workshops. More fool me, its not the full moon, but Sunday is the lunar new year and holds the auspicious launching of the Year of the Pig (or Boar, you choose).


 

Simplicity

By no stretch of imagination can my work be called "simple," except perhaps in the -minded, sense of the word. No, I obviously, and sometimes regrettably, come from the  more is better, and even more sometimes school of work.

But, yes, some things about me are plainly simple: my haircut. for one.

 

And, in my ongoing search for business models and methods, organizational solutions that will work for me, I came across two  fascinating blogs from designer and author John Maeda: Simplicity and The Laws of Simplicity. Number one: "The simplist way to achieve simplicity is through thoughtful reduction" can certainly serve as a mantra for the desk pile clearing now in progress (or at least in process).

I promptly ordered Maeda's book The Laws of Simplicity and subscribed to both blogs, and suggest you take a look, too. A few pull quotes here can't do justice to the the rich subject matter and amazing links. (Be sure to go to the website for the Korean incubator art/craft marketplace Ssamziegil --Yes, I know it's in Korean, who needs common language!)

Here's the sidebar summary from Maeda's Laws of Simplicity: 

 

Whimsy

Tricky topic? The more I think about it the trickier it gets. To be taken seriously often compels artisans and artists to deny whimsy in their work. Pulling it off is ever so difficult. Here we confront the seesaw of public opinion: the weight of academia, our own adult considerations of fame and fortune and the Art World, capital letters, on one seat (it's a quite crowded seat); the universal  human appeal of play, for jokes, for humor on the other. Teetering along, and so few good role models.

I do, however, weigh  in on the side of playfulness and whimsy as studio practice, whether it makes it into the work or not. (It does in mine, quite obviously at times.) Out of self-permission to play, comes interesting discoveries in media, in imagery and, for some artists, a unique style of work. (One of the best examples I know is Pam RuBert.)

In answer  to a question on a mailing list that I read (TheStudioSalon), I came up with these personal must-dos.

 

• Dance, where no one can watch, clear a space, put on music and see what happens. Then draw, then dance. Or  paint to music -- use a cheap kid's watercolor set to keep the materials from feeling too precious.
• Buy the kind of art supplies you loved as a child (or always wanted as a kid) Try them out with no product
• in mind.
• Journal, think, daydream a bit, sit outside and see shapes in the clouds. Write about all the things you loved to do as a child. see if you can revisit some of those activities.
• What do you do when the inner critic says: you are silly, stop being so immature, you are wasting time, you should be ashamed at being so silly, you will  never be taken seriously if you act like this? Say, "thank you for sharing." and keep on doing what you are doing.
• Finish this sentence 25, 46, even 101 times:(from Julia Cameron)If it weren't too late I would ----or  --- If it weren't so silly, I would ... Then pick something and do it.
• Build a sand pile and play in it regularly. Also, wade in a creek, watch ants, dig in the dirt, plant beans and watch them grown, collect leaves and press them.  Does this sound like kindergarden? We're on the right track.
  

P.S. So what do you think of my new whimsical jean jacket? Fiber Artists of San Antonio's Runway Show is on the horizon and I really have no ability or interest in sewing garments, but I like cutting them apart, reassembling them and adding stuff -- this is the same me that loved paperdolls and making clothes for Barbie, back when one had only ONE Barbie, instead of a stable of clones. I am also teaching a course this summer at the Southwest School of Art and Craft called "ReTheads," and an altered denim vest, jacket, skirt or pair of jeans will be one of the class projects.

P.P. S. The jacket is now sans sleeves, they were way too short. 

Messy is the New Neat?

Do you think I could learn from this?

Time Magazine reporter Jeremy Caplan makes a case for letting up a bit on the neat freak thing. If only I knew how to make peace ---

"Devotees of filing often interrupt their thought flow to stuff papers in folders, while pack rats just toss papers to the side for later. Procrastination like that can actually pay off. 'Putting off undertaking almost any form of neatening or organizing will probably have some advantage," write Abrahamson and Freedman (authors of a new study), "because it's much more efficient to organize a large set of things at one shot than it is to try to organize them in pieces as they come along.' "

Neat and me go way back as opponents. An eternal seesaw operates in my psyche: I gotta have all that stuff visible, in piles, touchable, doable, incredibly touchable vs. I love order, categories, things in boxes and the perfect file folder, colorcoded and alphabetized in a manner only I would imagine. Thus, not having time, energy, plastic styrene boxes enough, the clutter creeps on in a battle against the perfectionistic inner elf.  You can imagine where that leaves me most of the time. Matter of fact, I think most of my friends, students and partners-in-crime will positively howl at the idea that I even harbor the inkling of an inner neat-freak.

I am open to any and all suggestions from you, my dear readers, about how to deal with this on-going conflict. I especially wrestle with the issue of keeping up with deadlines, paydates, due dates etc, no matter how many calendars I make. Without tangible in-my-space reminders of what needs doing (ie if I stick things in an appropriate file folder and drawer) it just seems to disappear from brain. And then if its out in clear sight, layers of work-in-progress clutter soon overtake whatever order it once held in place. The photos below illustrate my usual state of tabletops (and this after a full morning of pushing papers around). NOTE the OPEN file drawers, the heaped to overflowing plastic bins, the attempts at organization gone astray.

Somehow, I don't think this is what Jeremy has in mind:

 

 

 

Journaling

At this weekends "Artist Journey/Artists Journal" the weather outside was chilly, but the energy inside kept us warm. Taking a page from the January calendar, we worked our way around altered books, journal quilts and a several approaches to writing and sketching our way through the new year. I learned as much as I taught (thanks, Sue for the runthrough on how to make a hidden pocket in an altered book, and Kay for bringing The Secret), we ate well, slept well and talked about everything under the winter sun.

I plan to post pictures of the projects begun during the retreat, as they are documented and sent back to me -- but here are a few of the people pics. What can I say: I am living my dream and it's just getting bigger.

Full (not) Moon/Fool Moon

Here are the details about my next workshop. You can find the complete brochure on the righthand sidebar link to  "Coming Up:Workshops"

Artists’ Retreat and Workshop, February 17-18, Saturday and Sunday

 

The moon has long been seen as a symbol of the unconscious, and a sacred goddess of feminine instinct. How does the unconscious, the instinctual, even lunacy, influence your art work?  Do you make room for accidents, for the spontaneous and unplanned. This El Cielo Studio workshop will take advantage of the February Full Moon dark of the moon (Don't ask me what moon calendar I was looking at when this went on the calenday!) to inspire a weekend of intentional accidents (or accidental accidents, as the case may be), spontaneous expression, and improvisational techniques for fiber and mixed media art, as we open our hearts and eyes to the power of the uncontrolled. Among the activities: guided meditation and journaling, moonlight storytelling around a bonfire and moonlight hike (weather permitting), time in the hot tub, and making an artist altar that explores your understanding of the divine feminine. Fabric art techniques covered include silk painting effects with salt and other additives; faux shibori and low-water dye techniques using the microwave; shaving foam dyeing and other improvisational dye and paint play.

El Cielo workshop/retreats are designed to meet the needs of the participants, so there is free time scheduled throughout the weekend for reading, reflection and personal work in the studio. You are welcome to bring projects in process for Susie’s critique and for peer feedback in an environment of trust and respect. We’ll share meals (bring a sack lunch for Saturday, Saturday supper and Sunday brunch are included in the fee), 25-mile horizon vistas from the deck and strolls down the country roads, as time permits.

FEE, including meals: $145 per person. 10% discount for registration before 2/5/07 ($131.50). Limited enrollment. Overnight accommodations are available for a modest fee ($15-$30). Supply List: your favorite kind of journal or notebook, a box with lid (any size and material) for your altar, warm clothes and walking shoes.

Susie Monday has taught adults and children for more than 30 years. Her art cloth and quilts have been included in international exhibits and private collections. Recent teaching credits include Gemini Ink, Southwest School of Art and Craft, University of the Incarnate Word, King Ranch, and McNay Art Museum. See her work on-line at http://monday.myexpose.com and  read her blog at http://elcielostudio.squarespace.com

Iced In

Here ,we are stuck inside one big ice cube, though it be one with a few thorns and spines. The north-facing windows are coated with at least a half inch of ice, lending the living room and bedroom the feel of a modern church sanctuary built around 1952 (a better image than that of a mental institution, right?). The caliche driveway out front is a skating rink. The  car doors simply won't open (yes, we have a garage, part of my studio building, but being inexperienced at winter, we didn't put the cars inside, go figure). The good news is that I have made it through almost one year of financial record recovery.

 

 

Also, we stretched frames and mounted two stunning pieces of African textiles that Linda bought several years ago -- now in a starring role on the living room wall. I don't know anything about African textiles and haven't had the time to do a good search for information yet. I know that the one on the left is kuba cloth from Zaire -- a rafia fabric with cowrie shell embellishment. The other is a wedding cloth, but I don't know where its from. If anyone with knowlege or a good web information source is reading this, please leave a comment.

 

Meanwhile, I am planning the weekend journaling workshop (Jan. 20-21, see workshop link) and hoping the meltdown is on its way.  Cabin fever has not quite set in, but the warning signs are nigh. I don't live in Texas for no reason.

One Thing Leads to Another

One thing leads to another. Well, that does go without saying. Still, pursuing the Quiltart list today (by the way, thanks to everyone who helped me master its usage given the amazing volume of discussion on and off topic), I was led to the amazing work of Nacogdoches artist Mary McCleary, and then, through her "news" link to the homepage of the journal Image: Art, Faith, Mystery. The serendipity of the internet answers me with such directness sometimes. (No doubt what people feel like when they open a Bible at random and sense that the verse gives them the answer sought.)

Here I sit this winter afternoon, confronted by sleet, by my own shortcomings in the organizing and business side of personal and professional life, by doubts and hesitation about going to the studio (the fireplace is so tempting), by haunting critique of my work ("hands and hearts are trite imagery"), by that nagging doubt that shows up when I look at my bank balance and how I chose to spend my time on this planet.

 Finding Image and digging into it, just for half an hour, was restorative and challenging, invigorating and thought-provoking. Just what I needed to combat the woe-is-me-what-am-I-doing-I'll-never-make-it glum that had me frozen to the windowpane.

Here's what the website says about it:

About Image

"Image, a literary and arts quarterly founded in 1989, is a unique forum for the best writing and artwork that is informed by—or grapples with—religious faith. We have never been interested in art that merely regurgitates dogma or falls back on easy answers or didacticism. Instead, our focus has been on writing and visual artwork that embody a spiritual struggle, that seek to strike a balance between tradition and a profound openness to the world. Here the larger questions of existence intersect with what the poet Albert Goldbarth calls the "greasy doorknobs and salty tearducts" of our everyday ."

I won't say too much, you can take your own stroll into its text and images, but be sure to look under RESOURCES at the Study Guide. That alone could keep me engaged for a month of sleet-bound afternoons. Leaving you then, with this quote from said Study Guide, (copying the guide is encouraged, by the way.)

"One of the perennial tensions in the Judeo-Christian tradition is how the inwardness of faith relates to outwardness of culture. Believers often withdraw from culture on the grounds that it is worldly and dilutes or corrupts religious truth. But from the moment that John began his gospel with "In the beginning was the Word," a statement that would speak to the wider Mediterranean culture of his time, it can be argued that the church was committed to incarnating faith into creative language, story, and image. The tradition of Christian humanism holds that faith becomes abstract and meaningless unless it engages culture, seeking not only to preach to the world, but to listen to and assimilate what the world is saying. The material covered under this theme heading can be said in some way to grapple with this tradition."

Professionalism

What makes a professional artist?  (Let's just leave aside the bigger and plagued-with-over-opinion, "What makes an artist?"). If you follow the thinking presented today by Jane Dunnewold at our Saturday FASA meeting, the answer is not too far from what makes a professional physician, or engineer. Using studies and surveys from these fields Jane found parallel qualities, beliefs, values and practices that, whatever the field, can furnish guidance to us as we work and relate to our peers, our collectors, the galleries, schools and museums, and -- perhaps most telling of all -- to our own psyches.

Dunnewold's talk, which was first presented at the opening of the Visions exhibit in San Diego, looked at the quantifiable qualities that professionalism entailed in one of the studies (that for the medical field) and then, with her experience as a teacher, maker, juror, curator, extrapolated the three areas -- interpersonal professionalism (between artists), social professionalism (between the artist and our world of interaction), and intrapersonal professionalism (within ourself). There was much worth pondering, including the practice (or lack thereof) of whistle-blowing when needed (how many times have you let an unsafe studio behavior go by unmentioned?); the thin line between being influenced by our teachers and being copyists of their work, when we should have moved on into our own; the necessity of practice as well as philosophy to guide us; and the necessity to confront our weaknesses, whether they be technical (drawing, for instance) or procedural (keeping good records), and doing some study to advance our skills.

 But most of all, I left the program with two questions in mind, those that Jane shared at her conclusion.

To paraphrase: As you do the work, you should be able to answer these two questions with a yes -- 1. Did I do the best work I could at this particular time? and, 2. Did I learn something from doing it? It is these affirmative answers that move us along as professionals, artists, doctors, retail merchants, human beings.

Desperate. To-Do List

Hmm, you say. (In a rather ego-driven part of my brain that supposes you've noticed at all) she certainly hasn't posted much lately. And thus one of the truisms of blogging. Insidious doubts arise upon not turning up at the page (electronnic or otherwise). The holidays were one good excuse after another. Continuing computer gliches and slow as molasses satellite connection speeds another. But mainly its a matter of momemtum. AND that, my friends, applies to more in life than blogging.

 

  

 

Despite my on-line absence, a few notable accomplishments in the studio this month: Rearranging the studio (see photos before and after), playtime with my sister and cousin making stuff, embellished jean jackets (expect to see them entered into the FASA Runway Show) a lot of thrift store fabric and table linens purchased and ready to use, a good cleaning and mopping, and planning for the next series of El Cielo Studio Workshops:

First -- Artist Journal/Artist Journey, an art journaling retreat that kicks off the studio season next weekend (only one place left if you are interested), then

FEB. 17-18 Fool Moon/Full Moon -- Using lunar energy, lunacy and the power of the feminine to inspire work. Taking chances and stepping into the unknown. Textile techniques will include shaving foam dyeing, "automatic" dyeing, and other improvisational techniques.

MARCH 24-25 Field Guide to Color -- Color theory made fun, with hands-on application of the "rules," and when and how to break them. Using a variety of source material, exercises and media, including dye, watercolor. collage and egg tempera.

APRIL 13-14 Calling All Archetypes -- using your inner crew for work and support. Exploring archetypes,inner voices and their influence. Make an artist's altar  -- fabric and mixed media -- to remind you of a most sacred part of your life.

JUNE -- TBA dates for a 5 day retreat 

JULY 28-29  Burning Woman Workshop -- Using heat, passion and even hot flashes to fuel our work. Sun printing, burning and rusting; rituals and bonfires to keep our inner creativity burning bright. (Probably repeating in August).

Watch the link on the right sidebar  (WORKSHOPS) for details or email me for details or to reserve a space. All of them (except june's) start on Saturday  morning and conclude early afternoon Sunday. Private bedrooms with baths are available on a first-come basis ($15 to $30 per night, with arrival Friday night optional).

And, so I am back in the studio, a no-car day at last, facing the mother of all to-do lists. To keep myself on track, I pledge an entry a day, at least, action that will help my momentum, and give me a little reward in terms of design and writing time as I slog through end-of-year finances (after some glitch in my Quicken files between backups and losing my hard drive seems to have lost ALL of last years entries). Also on the table: preparations for next weeks exhibit at the state capitol building, a benefit of being selected one of the state's "Texas Originals."

More on Color

Trolling around and thinking about color, I found this article (thanks to Serena Fenton's Layers of Meaning ) by Mandy Southan, of the Guild of Silk Painters. She clearly and concisely summarizes information about the use of 6 "foundation" colors for mixing paints -- and dyes. It's instructive to fine-tune one's eyes to analyze the colors seen  in photos, nature and other artist's work. What reds, greens, blues -- where and in what amount do you see the complement of a major color? (Look out the window, at your clothing, at the photos on my previous post.) As Southan writes,

"Some people find it very difficult initially to distinguish between each of the two types of red, yellow and blue. They can see that they are different but cannot see the 'hidden' colour in each. Blues seem to cause most problems, perhaps because the human eye is least sensitive to blue and most sensitive to red. I think that the more you work with colour, the easier it becomes to differentiate the colour bias in each and analyse the constituents of any colour you see and so be able to mix it confidently."

Christmas

Scenes from my holidays off-line. Peace.

 

 

 

Pachyderm

I ought to ask -- does "Pachyderm" arise from the trunk of goodies therein?

Somewhere in my circus performer's tent, lives a secret geek. I love to play with with intuitively designed software -- the programs that feel and act like building blocks and/or collage layers are the best match for my brain. Don't get me wrong, I avoid anything that looks even like html code -- OK maybe a few little sideways bracket triangles (you know you can't make those show up by typing them here ) are sneaking into my tool box -- but I lean toward programs that put everything into WYSIWYG and let you wiggle it all around. I'll never give up the tactile pleasures of cloth, but I find the architectural limitlessness of the digital world quite seductive.

I am at a 3 day users conference for a presentation (think web page and/or powerpoint -- but different) interface that is spreading through the world of museum professionals across the state, thanks to a project funded by the Edward and Betty Marcus Foundation that puts Texas museums into the loop. Pachyderm has been developed with the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and the New Media Consortium, with support from the  Institute for Museum and Library Services, this software/project/interface  has amazing potential for all manner of  creative artistic play -- not to shortchange its impact on digital education and storytelling for museums.

You can follow the links above to find out more. Be sure to poke around on the pages published as examples and don't miss the SFMOMA "Making Sense of Modern Art" site. If you want to play too you can inquire about trial access to the nmc.org server where the open-source software to do the authoring lives and breathes. For now, its free, though eventually  one will probably need a membership to get into the playpen.

Somewhat like the Squarespace architecture and authoring that underlies this site (and is the reason I pay a small fee monthly rather that using Blogger or one of the other free blog publishers) Pachyderm is a highly flexible set of templates that can be EASILY linked, loaded with ones own pictures, movies, audio and graphic images --then adds some nifty special stuff like sound cues for accessibility.  What you end up with is a Flash presentation that can live on a CD, on  your computer or be uploaded to a hosting web server. Believe me, I know nothing about the tech geekie level of all this -- though you can apparently get involved as a developer if you lean that way -- but as a new convert I can't wait to play. I can see immediate application for a museum/library/family art program that I'm working on for the summer in conjunction with the Botero exhibit that's coming this way.

If you want to play hands-on: 

"Pachyderm 90-day trial authoring accounts are currently available on request for those who wish to take Pachyderm for a test drive. For more information, please see About Pachyderm. To request an account, please send email to info@nmc.org."

Watch this space for further developments. 

 

 

Familiarity

Now this is what I meant to say when someone asked me why I do what I do:

"The medium of fiber appeals to a broader audience because it uses familiar materials and techniques and thus provides a more accessible and understandable art form. How many people sleep between paintings or put on metal pants in the morning?"

Susan Taber Avila is one of a number of San Francisco Bay fiber artists  whose work appears in the on-line gallery www.fiberscene.com. (She's also a co-founder of the website.) This excerpt from her artist statement took me from surfing  dead stop. Sometimes I wonder why I don't paint or sculpt or do something else -- and I'm not even sure about whether I think the familiar materials do make fiber arts more accessible and understandable to the general public -- but I know I connect in a way that I don't to painting and more traditional art disciplines or media.

I sometimes feel really stupid about my work, with its narrative and folkloric content, with its purposeful naivete. I mean, I did go to art school. Shouldn't I do something more sophisticated or important or serious.  Do I sound whiny again? Perhaps its about the familiarity of storytelling. Or maybe I need to let myself try something serious.

Thanks, Susan, for putting it so well.  And letting me mutter about this.

FASA Annual Exhibit

Ego whining aside. The Fiber Artists of San Antonio Annual Exhibition is a strong show. Upon seeing the exhibit hung, I was pleased to be associated (as president this year) with the organization and its ambitions. Here are pictures of just a few of the 16 entries (of 79 submissions) that are in the exhibit. The show will be at the Southwest School of Art and Craft through December, and the installation showcases each piece wonderfully. The tendency in many of our fiber arts exhibits in the past has been to include too many pieces -- this show, thanks to the restraint and standards of juror Amie Adelman, gives each work space and air to breathe, so important in a group show without a common theme or medium.

I am uploading the photos now, without their proper titles, but I will return to this post later today with all the details -- for now, here are the names of the artists and what I know about the works.

 

Top to bottom

"Equine Curiousity," Amy Jones, mixed media sculptue, Warrior Artist Award

 

"Oh My Sole,"  Rachel Ridder Edwards, one of a series of embellished shoes, Best of Show

"Life Cycles," Laura Beehler, layered silk organza with leaves and seeds, Second Place

"I'll Fly Away," Caryl Gaubatz, jacket from silk earth dyed and rusted, stitched embellishments

"Protection Against Aging: Body as Passport," Mary Ann Johnson, tunic created from facial wipes and other recycled materials -- a piece inspired by thinking about our future world, iris identification

 

 

 

 

   

Juried

Spent Tuesday as a silent observer during the jurying of the San Antonio Fiber Artist’s annual exhibit – the third time I’ve been an observer for such a process. Do this a few times and it takes away all the questions one has about how personal is this process and how the acceptance or rejection of one’s work is subject to individual impulse and opinion – even with skilled professional jurors who bring all their experience and expertise to bear on the process.  And how the pool and variety of other work to be hung influences the choices. And how different people weigh different elements. (More than one work that had won an award in another exhibit, or was included in another, equally professionally juried show, didn’t get in this one.)

Still.
My work didn’t make the cut and that stings the ego.
The remedy for me was to make something simple, something not too challenging today. To get back on the horse as it were, but not the untamed bronc.

Also, I have to acknowledge that at least one of the pieces I submitted didn’t really work in one way or another – even if it wasn’t, for me, the way the juror said it didn’t work. (We were anonymous observers; the juror not familiar with our work, so we heard the comments, as well as got the reviewing sheets with written remarks.) Sometimes I get so far down the track on a piece that it just has to be done the way it gets done – and that was the case in the largest and most ambitious of the work that I entered.

Moving Sound/Sound Movies

 

First, moving sound. And something, too, about our use of carbon fuels. Changing worlds. How to make it come clear. 

Two movies engaged us this weekend, on DVDs of course (I keep forgetting to go the real movies when I am in town). About the first, I won't say much, except, forget what ever prejudices you may hold for or against Al Gore, and see "An Inconvenient Truth."  I resisted it, fearing that I would only become more depressed about the future of the environment, but, he makes a compelling case that, should the political and cultural will be found, the scientific solutions are already known.

 

 On a lighter note, but no less profound for those of us fascinated with human perception, creativity and the power of the individual who finds her/his true path -- "Touch the Sound" -- a documentary unlike any other, hosted by Grammy award winning percussionist Evelyn Glennie. Ms. Glennie, though hearing impaired, is a renowned musician, and this film explores her vision of sound. A vision that the film makers share with us though images so auditory, they are the filmic equivalent of Arthur Dove's paintings.  (If you know of any other painter who gets sound like he does, let me know -- I'm working on a book for parents and kids about cross-form perception and creativity.)

Textures Reunion

For two of its 12 years of operation, I was a partner in Textures Gallery, a space that featured Texas, mostly local, artists and artisans who made fiber art, art for interiors and wearable art. Saturday, we celebrated the opening of a reunion exhibit at the gallery that now operates in our former space on McCullough in "downtown Olmos park." This is now the northside location of the gallery downtown in Market Square --

Galeria Ortiz

The former Textures partners (the gallery closed its doors last January 1) and some of those who were contributors were invited to exhibit art and fine craft for a holiday show this year. The exhibit, co-curated by Textures partner Jane Bishop, and gallery manager Diana Roberts (formerly of ReBarn, another now-closed art space and gallery) is open through the January 13, and yesterday's reception for the artists and our friends and collectors gave me a chance to see many friends. With all kinds of art and a variety of gift items -- much in the sense of Textures Gallery -- the show has the feel of a sweet return. Seeing old friends whose city paths are now so different from mine made the time fly. If you see any gifts you'd like to give, contact the gallery for more information.

In order below: Linda Rael's tassles and angel dolls, Caryl Gaubatz' pojagi vest, Jane Bishop's upholstery, Laura Pitts' exquisite pin cushions, another garment by master Caryl Gaubatz, one of Martha Grant's pieces in her "Silence" series, and one of my pomegranate table cloths.

 

 

 

 

 

More from Real

Dulces para los ojos.

 

 

Real Inspiration

Real de Catorce, mysteriously named "the royal fourteen" is a recovering ghost town (once larger than now prospering Monterrey), which, as our host Ed Alexander suggested (only part in jest) owes its renaissance largely to Texans who have moved in, rebuilt ruined houses and invited their friends to visit. Since out first visit about 10 years ago, the town has visibly recovered walls and rooflines -- and a rather bad movie, The Mexican, brought some Hollydollars to bear on the water system, and some well-connected visitors (Julia Roberts and Johnny Dep). Technology has made its inroads -- when we first traveled over the cobblestone road and through the long tunnel that are still the best access to the village, there was one telephone, a total pesos-only economy, and most of the kids had to leave home to have schooling beyond the 6th grade. All the citizens seem better dressed and the horseback guide business is obviously flourishing.

Now, there's an ATM machine in the Municipal Building's Department of Tourism (when we were there first, a civil feud had closed the city offices and the doors were barricaded), some cell phones work, and the internet is weaving its web -- including an internet school for the teenagers.

But, Real avoids -- at least for now -- taking on too many overnight tourists, too much comfort, too many mod-cons. It still feels like time travel. The rocks, the dust, the dry high 9000 feet in the mountain air speak with ancient accents. The Huichol people from distant Nayarit still travel there to gather the sacred peyote from the nearby mountain deserts; a lively international group of ex-pats -- Italians, Swiss and Americans mostly -- have a parallel society (some of whom are also there for the peyote.) Thousands of devote pilgrims travel there in September and October in Mexico's second-largest religious pilgrimage, this one to the honor of a healing and peripatetic Saint Francis of Asissi, whose milagro covered robe and countless testaments of thanksgiving painted on tin, paper, box cardboard and wood, are evidence of the perceived holiness of this place that is sometimes called the Macchu Pichu of Mexico.

 Most of my photos are on a laptop that isn't home at the moment, so check back here for more pictures later.