Country Music

Kites

rock and roll

'thout no boots ner pants

I think what appeals to me about print making and the other media I respond to is that unlike other forms like drawing, or painting even more so, the product isn't sacred. The image can be precious but its physical form is reproducible. It allows for more room to experiment (digital video the most, print making processes are pretty involved and sometimes arduous)

the news

It feels really good to be listened to. Here's something I wrote for an english class a couple months ago:

We exist in a time that is changing in big and important ways. As a general whole I think we’ve felt defeated for the past eight years. Some of us have protested or just complained but however we’ve dealt with the abusive political climate, the increasingly choking restrictions placed on our personal freedoms, we haven’t been able to escape them. I think the most impressive change I’ve witnessed is a new crazy hopefulness. People who have never taken much stock in their roles as citizens might finally feel like they matter, “they believed that this time must be different, that their voices could be that difference”. If this record voter turnout says anything it should at least say that. Even as a white, midwestern girl I feel more politically represented now than I, having participated in American media/pop culture as well as having witnessed the representation of our white supremacist patriarchal bureaucracy through these outlets over the course of my life, thought I could feel. Whatever Barack Obama’s doctrine of change means to any one person this whole process can say that if you care about something, and you care enough to do something about it, to make art, or to vote, or yell about it, or anything, it does matter and you can sincerely incite an action that’s grander than you are. It’s incredible to me that a group of people who were so beaten for so long could come together and get what they wanted, to get the man they wanted as President elected, could forget and put behind them what they needed to and to keep trying. Regardless of the myriad criticisms that could be posed in regards to the political system in the United States it’s still more than sweet. For me anyway, the election of Barack Obama seemed to validate the past century of epic struggle this country has seen. However long it takes, if it can all add up, eventually the struggle is worth it, right?
It dangerous though, this burgeoning optimism. I’m hopeful about this new administration and I’m more hopeful about the spirit it may have enlivened in people; but I know that optimism can’t stop me from questioning my world, my society, the choices I make for myself, and the choices I let my government make for me. Of course now I, and everyone else, shouldn’t stop making decisions for myself. If I want something, I can have it. In as unimperialistic and effacing a manner as possible if I want something it’s ridiculous for me not to have it. Just remember!


Also, I'm pretty sure this isn't news anymore but here are some video stills I took. Remember this one, heh? I feel like I was one of the first to have stills of this posted online (on Garrett's cool index exhibit site):

More analog broadcast TV stuff

I must be getting less creative. This is from GlobeTrekker, on MPTV, the first thing I recorded when I got my new little portable TV. Digital broadcast just isn't going to be the same. The camels are premium and the singing children are premium. This isn't a finished piece, just a test. More later, I hope:



Also:


I took this video still today from a podcast I'm subscribed to (Obama's weekly addresses and key speeches) He's a good man.

And some stills from the above video. pretty patterns, abstractions, tones:

Noise Cowboy

Sound to come

GHOST!//001*_

What defines absence? or Lack? When do we become ghosts of ourselves, our lives become ghosts of our lives, and places become the ghosts of our places?

What inhabits the empty parts of our lives, why do I imagine ghosts use the things I never do? The formal dining room, the chair in the corner.

I stopped believing in ghosts. But, for a long time they meant something important to me. While I might have been plagued by it, the question of their existence or non-existence, the possibility, was something I owned. I imagined them walking down the stairs all night, standing next to my bed when I couldn't sleep with the floor creaking and the window tapping and the crackle of light in the dark.

Here are some images I made of ghosts, sort of.

screengrab

I made this piece of art with my laptop to try to describe my day:

and this one too:




It sucked. It was awful.