Daily Note #9

Daily Note #8

Daily Note #7

Daily Note #6

Daily Note #5

Daily Note #4

Daily Note #3

Daily Note #2

Symphony of Fragments no.1

6. Symphony of Fragments no.1

-Photographs, thread, color pencil, acrylic paint, gouache, ink, frames, dirt, broken glass, and moon cacti installation.

This past weekend I was part of a pop-up group show called “People are Strange” at the DA center for the arts in Downtown Pomona. My friends Pamela and Alberto put on this show which included a group art show, live bands, and a theatre play! I had lots of fun, and it was a good turn out with lots of love and laughter.

Pamela asked me if I was interested to show some work about a month prior so that gave me enough time to work on a new piece. I decided I wanted to show some of my photographs since I haven’t had the opportunity to physically print some and display them. I decided I would include some mixed media elements to make it more interesting and fun than just a photo in a frame. (not that there is anything wrong or boring about that)

In 2010 for my senior solo show, I installed 120+ framed drawings along with a textile installation of cocoons. I showed those same framed drawings but much less in a two person show a few months after that and since then, they have sat in milk crates in a dusty upstairs room. I thought I would reuse these frames for this current installation. 

I acknowledge that the way I arranged the frames is in direct correlation with how artist like Barry McGee, Ed Templeton, Margaret Kilgallen, and many more have shown their framed work. This is completely intentional, a nod to those artist, and happily done. For this piece I thought this arrangement would be the best way to show it.

For the past few years I have been shooting with film to help me slow down and really pay attention to moments. There were times where I wouldn’t let myself bring along my camera because I started to think it was a distraction from the moments I would try to capture. Eventually it became an aide or a reminder to enjoy the present. Only a few of the twenty two photos are shot with my digital camera. 

These photos were selected with the idea of relationships. My personal relationships with the people and moments in the photographs and their relationship with the other people or moments. This cluster of pictures are what make up my life, in a simple twenty two photographs, they capture moments of joy and the people I share that with, not all, but just a fragment. 

The drawing on the very top of the gallery was placed there for the play factor, taking advantage of these really tall gallery ceilings and making my installation bigger than it is. The hands in the drawing are my own and a representation of self, of the constant shifting that happens in our lives and the release or relationship that has with ourselves. The relationship or connector is the red thread that flows down into the photos. From there it travels as a thinner thread that covers the entire cluster until it ends up in another drawing as a knotted ball in between two hands. 

From there it drops down into a frame with patterned fabric under broken glass. Sitting on top, two moon cactus looking like they are growing out of the broken frame. This is where these emotions, trials, hardships, joy, conversations and everything else that makes us up arrives at. It arrives at this broken glass frame with a complex but simple pattern and out comes growth. 

One thing I’m always reminded of is, feelings are just passengers, sadness and happiness come and go, and even when the passenger is anger, depression, frustration, or hopelessness and we think to ourselves, there is no coming back from this, there is always a way to come back, to become stronger, more self aware, there is always growth.

A big thank you to Cat, Cheyne, and Xavier for helping me with the installation, I’m usually so stubborn with my installs that I forget that help is nothing but a good thing. Thank you to Pamela and Alberto for asking me to show work. And thank you to all the people that let me take their photo and let me be a part of their lives. 

Happy New Year friends.  

Daily Note #1

December sixth

December 6th, 2013

I'm always amazed when I get the chance to go to a high hill, the top of a tall tall building, or any sort of elevated plain that lets me see some sort of view. I imagine all the people in all the little spaces crammed into these plots of land. I try to think about some things that might be happening in those spaces, a grandpa making breakfast for his granddaughter, she doesn't like plain round pancakes so he has come up with a way to make pancake drawings, the most creative pancakes anyone has ever seen, just for her. I think about the great dane nudging her owner for an afternoon walk, possibly the only walk of the day and she is excited running back and forth in the bedroom while he just wants to sleep a few more minutes. I imagine the young couple keeping warm under wool sheets as a television is blaring, whispers of "I love yous" and "wheres the remote boo?"

Whenever I'm at a towering view I also think about the relationships of these people in these small spaces. I think about what it might be like to be in love with the boy down the street, or what it might feel like to have to see your ex-wife every time you drop off your kid to them, or the feeling in your arms and legs when you pass by the girl at the coffee shop that you always tell yourself you will say hi this time but you never do. I think about these relationships and I'm reminded that I carry my own set of hellos, goodbyes, and see-you-soons.

On this day I think about one in particular and I will believe that they are where they wanted to be for a very long time now, and I am where I need to be, but I could be terribly wrong.

What a scary thought, that in our lifetimes, we fall in and out of these "hellos", "won't you stay awhile", "lets spend a day together" to a goodbye that was never said out loud. And so do I continue to spend time to get to know new people when this cloud hangs over me that whispers and shouts pep talks about how it won't last and you might not remember this person in a year? I don't think so, and that's when the rush of memories come in, the time I spent getting to know her, making her smile and laugh and being able to learn new things about a life that I was never familiar with, and in the end, learning about myself. And knowing that those days spent building a relationship even if it's gone, it was special and still is and that won't ever fade.

So the terribly wrong doesn't seem so wrong and the believing turns into a reality of this is where I am, period. And it's okay.

In this past year I've realized something really simple, yet it took me almost twenty five years of living to be able to recognize it. I experience so much joy when I'm able to share this life with others. It has ranged from spending an entire day with my best friend, or the quick "hello, how are you?" of a stranger passing by, to the mutual smile shared on a cold bus sputtering through downtown Los Angeles. This joy creeping up through my spine into my eyes to remind me that this little life of mine is much smaller than I think when it's compared to the billions of other little lives breathing in this little, little planet of ours, crammed in these small spaces, screaming at the bus driver, "have a great night, thank you for the ride!"

August Self-portrait 2013

August 17 2013

This has been a full month, the month of August.
I was late to work twice this month, some days I catch myself in this daze that I can't quite explain.
A sort of listless gaze. Days where I can't keep track of the right days. I need to practice being more present again, being more present now.

I went to a Dodger game by myself last Saturday. I bought my ticket right when I found out they were giving away Nomo bobbleheads, I couldn't miss that. It was a really fun experience and it was nice to have a day off from work. I sat by really hardcore fans, it was great. A younger woman was sitting behind me with a portable radio which was playing the game, it was actually very nice to get a play by play. On my left was a very young family of five. They had lots of snacks and sunburns. On my right sat a elderly Hispanic woman and her son, she was the best fan of them all. She prayed in between innings for the Dodgers to do well and every time a Dodger player would strike out she would let out this expression that translated into: "ahh, I hope he is okay." The Dodgers won that game and Hideo Nomo, my favorite pitcher of all time, threw out the first pitch!

I've been working on a project about fear for quite a few months now and I'm at a total of 38 interviews. My goal is to end at 200 interviews, so far it has been a life changing experience that I did not expect. I have lots to write about this project but in the near future.

I bought a snare drum the other day, I've been writing music lately with different people. It's nice to explore something that is new, the feeling of learning is nice. I think I've been stuck in a cycle of just doing what I know and what I've always done that I didn't really get to experience that feeling of the unknown and feeling uncomfortable. So to be out of that normal shell is nice.

A friend of mine just recently got his heart broken, he was dating someone for half a year and it has abruptly stopped. I tried giving him some advice about how to go about it to help him feel better and it made me realize that there's not much I can say, he will heal with time and he has to figure out how to deal. Relationships are complicated and can get real ugly in a heartbeat, I just want to ride bikes, draw pictures, and go on new adventures, forget all that other stuff. :) Maybe someday I'll find a woman who likes those things and is really rad, or maybe I'll adopt a dog, I've been thinking about adopting another dog. Toph would be really happy, but who really knows.

A poem for my brothers, sisters, and everything inbetween

This is a poem for my brothers, sisters, and everything inbetween
This is a poem for the grief stricken Tracy Martin that must endure steep heaves of
Why why why, no no no, you must be mistaken, you must've seen
I mean, he knows this is false system that isn't built for him and me
It's a system that is built around these old dusty seats
occupied by oppression that drag on like bullet holes too loud to speak

This is a poem for the wrongfully guilty free
A jury full of this irresponsible deed giving Joe G. the power to stalk and flee
While his hands are seemingly clean
Please

This is a poem for my little sister too tired to breathe
While shadows full of makeshift mask lay down trash piles of copious wreaths
Thick cash bribes and I have to ask why
Why is the color of my skin still an issue of guilty guilty not guilty
See, no one will give us a fight, not even a slight scream
So lets build until everyone is blind and unable to give even the smallest peep

This is a poem for the kid that lives on the coastal edge of beach side property breeze
Not worrying over prejudice stained figures lurking behind each step
The kid that stops this cycle of deciding fate on melanin levels, location, appropriation
of their orientation, gender specific expectations, and of course levels of taxation.

This is a poem for the feet that step onto freeways that only know
the bottom of car tires passing in and out of sleep
These same freeways now worn from constant swarms of no justice, no peace.
No justice no peace echoing into empty backseats bouncing back to officer please
Release me from these shackles of the click clack click clack
ringing of "Not Guilty" not guilty not guilty, man please!

This poem is for the my brother with his hoodie up, arms tucked not because he's some sort of thug
No, only those wanna be Joe G's chase us into these categories of false labels and identities
Misjudging me, my brothers and sisters you see, until this society screams
No justice, no peace.

This is a poem for Trayvon Benjamin Martin
The Trayvon in me
The Trayvon that can one day rest in peace when these old dusty seats are replaced
with unmuffled pleads, good natured deeds, and some fine hearts that understand
what it takes to just breathe

This is a poem for Trayvon Benjamin Martin
The Trayvon in me
The Trayvon in my brothers, sisters, and everything in between

a note to myself

Kurt Vile- Walkin On A Pretty Day

Wakin on a pretty day
Don't know why I ever go away
It's hard to explain
My love in this daze