Looking Beyond the Now

One of the risks of drawing life lines that go from 0 to 50 is that viewers who are younger than 50 might not get the complete picture. I tried to inject enough youthful life into different stories so that the young could relate as well, maybe see themselves in the stories somewhere.

(Photo by Dana Pianowski)

Today is the last day the show is up. After this it goes back into the little black file box it came in. Poof! Just another life story that came and went and influenced a few people's lives.

Only the Hairdresser Knows

Sometimes this is all the info we get about our neighbor's life.

Nosing for Trouble

One of the hardest parts about being a female artist is any type of softness easily comes across as sentimental to a male thinker. Women are basically considered sentimental until proven otherwise. I have the physicality of "cute" and my mind is fed by experiences from all six senses (drat to that sixth one!), so I am constantly fighting this battle.

This Halloween I dressed in black with large plastic rats attached to my black slacks so that they appeared to crawl up my legs. I represented the dark crawl space under a derelict house. (My husband was dressed the same, rats attached to his shoulders. He was the attic.)

Across the party floor sat a man dressed as Hugh Hefner, with male limp genital mask hanging down as a nose. My first instinct was to look the other way, as any sane person would who wasn't into orgy-with-stranger behavior. Then I decided I'd make sure to talk to this person sometime during the night.

I did approach the man, and he did speak macho sexism talk for the first part of our conversation. But after a while, and maybe it was because I didn't laugh but acted like he authentically did have a penis nose, he started asking me questions about myself and found out I was an artist. What ensued then was a very careful bombardment of questions at trying to get me to prove I had little depth as a thinking, practicing artist. I had learned from him that he was friends with a Choral Director so I decided that the questions might be derived from more educational background than your regular Dick. In fact, they sounded quite similar to those that might be asked of a masters student of the arts. I decided to answer him with completely sincerity.

I spent most of my time answering the questions by describing the little drawings you see here, trying to explain that each card was a unique person with a unique life and we all live differently, and sometimes with great difficulty. He wanted to know how I portrayed people as being different from one another and I explained it was with symbolism, ink line thickness, abstract shape making, gradations in gracefulness of line and in grey tones. I talked about how in order to portray a clumsy person as growing into a person of immense grace by the end of their story I needed the atmospheric help of graceful music playing on my radio.

I also explained that the economic fall with so many people going through hard times is what inspired me. I talked about how at the end of every life line I tried to put a positive thought, resolution, sense of well-being. He asked (firm chastising voice) if I thought it was right for me to tell people what to think. I responded that many of my drawings are vague enough that people can think whatever they want. It is up to them to see the healthy resolution or not. We are all participants in the perception of art and of the larger world around us.

His eyes brightened, the frown on his brow cleared, and he admitted he had also been a University Professor of Choral Music and that leading the audience to a positive resolution was at the essence of his work.

Phew. I passed the class.

Looking back I appreciate that conversation. Those were great questions and they might have been asked of a male artist in a spur of the moment manner like that. Maybe. But the female in me who is always fighting against being seen as sentimental couldn't help but notice that throughout the whole conversation the guy was unaware he was sweating, in essence dripping, out of his nose mask.

Dodge Ball

I bet Rick feels he has survived life's bowling-ball-hits fairly well, really only needing to bear his soul once during his well-appointed life.

Taking Care

Have you ever noticed that when you "take care" of someone you are actually saying you are "taking" something from them? Their self care.

Rex seems to have had a tough time with overbearing family or community during his younger years. It seems that in the end, though, he has finally learned to take care back at them.

(Click on image to see Rex's youth better... He was so pale back then.)

Congrats SF Giants!

David and the Dunce Cap

Here's David. He was born inside a party hat that looked too much like a dunce cap to his peers. Protecting himself, he grew older looking at the world from a dark space. He must have had a major "Ah-hah!" because he finally threw off his protective cone head. Thoughtfully he didn't throw it away. Instead he sat on his new wisdom, searching for more. Should he dance through life? Should he megaphone his thoughts out to everyone? Or should he simply embrace that inner, beautiful wisdom that is David?

A Lost Story Unfolding

Put your ear to the wall and listen.

Meeting the Art

Today I met this life line in someone describing themselves as full of puppy energy right now after a big emotional wounding. I drew this last summer, so am pleased to meet a person fitting this description today. Woof!

Reception Mirrors Art Mirrors Life

A clear message of my "900 Lives of Vision" exhibit is that we all have tools within us to get through rough times. If we can harness these tools we might even be able to create something wonderful during the process.

Below are two images of people caught in the act of getting the best out of life.

This person clearly knows how

to swing to the music of the people she meets.

A wise man knows that the right tools can turn

an average experience into a kick.

(Photos by Dana Pianowski)

Enhanced by Changing Seasons and Persistent Viewers

"Expanding Vision"

"Window"

The gallery has mostly natural lighting in the form of a skylight. With the coming fall there is a moody quiet that pervades the space later in the afternoon. Perfect for introspective quiet reading.

~~~

Surprises delight visitors: In the "Clover" grouping a visitor found a friend who happens to be an olympic swimmer. Elsewhere an elderly man found a long-time pen pal. A visitor from the East Coast found a high school teacher. Home towns and college towns from across the nation seem to bring up the questions: do I know that person, that street? Can I relate to the drawing and what does it mean to me, to you?

One visitor found name after name after name that meant something to him; He had discovered the mystery theme that originally linked these cards in their black file box thirty years ago. Hint: All the drawings in this collection are in black India Ink on purpose.

Learning How to Fly

"The Fool and the Phoenix"

Of late I have become fond of fools and Fools. I see both types of foolishness everywhere, me being a very active hat bearer/wearer. Perhaps it is lucky to be foolish. In the very least it makes for a much more interesting ride.

It's the fool who lives on the edge of a cliff and irresponsibly falls off it. It is the Fool who lives on the edge of a cliff, sees potential in the open space, jumps off the cliff, and figures out how to fly on the way down. In a hopeful world there are a lot of lucky fools who turn into Fools while falling off the cliff.

Tools to Aid in Reaching a New Perspective

I was just out in the garden, minding my own business, when a tiny, irritating splinter appeared on the end of one of my right hand finger tips. I tweezed with my left hand nails, but failed to do any more than push the almost invisible stinger further into my flesh. I rushed to the medicine cabinet and scrounged up a pair of tiny metal tweezers and set to work, aiming as best I could and pulling this way and that... but soon found I was still missing miserably. Finally I put on multiple layers of magnifying glasses and enlarged the tiny annoyance into a giant log. I aimed my now giant metal claws at the irritant, grabbed hold easily, pulled gently back and up, and dislodged the aggressor. While flinging it willy-nilly into the air I marveled at how what we take from an experience is directly related to how we look at it.

(I will be providing magnifying glasses at my upcoming exhibition.)

Visual Art as an Experience, Not a Commercial Commodity

When we go to an art museum we go to experience the collection, not to buy it.

My temporary installation of drawings, "900 Lives of Vision," is presented in the same light. If you are in the area, please come to experience the massive grouping of individual lives, as there will be nothing to buy.

~~~

Think about the time that was spent creating a little story for each individual, how no one was left behind, how some people have strong ink lines and others more delicate, how some people are presented linearly and others more sculpturally. Why are some drawings so light they are almost invisible and what do you think about the confusion in some? Why are they placed in the groupings that you see? Why are some drawings wandering off center?

What kinds of people are presented? What is it like to live like a flowing brush stroke? Or a map? Or an organically branching plant? Can a life line have more than one branch or does a life line go solely from point A to point Z? Is this person at point P or at point X or, dear God, are they even alive today? If they have passed on, did they have a sense of success to their life? Would any of these people actually find themselves within these drawings? Can you find yourself?

The most overwhelming question of all: Can you take in this many people during a single visit? How much can any of us take in at one time?

I keep remembering a Muse Concert I went to a few years ago with my husband and daughter. We were up front, standing squished together in the second row. Hundreds of people surrounded me intimately. I wanted to ask every single person his or her story. I shared their sweat and their joy as we swayed to the music, but I never got beyond a grunt and groan of communication with them.

Maybe I will play Muse at the reception. Or jazz or classical or world or some other rock. It's all part of the art experience I had drawing them. The music is in the lines.

~~~

Just came back from a John Zorn experimental sax performance. We grinned through the whole organic, quirky, bizarre experience. His music is the sound that I hear in many of my drawings.

Beauty Flows Out of Awkwardness

I have a philosophy that out of awkwardness comes true beauty. Above you see a line that grows steadily in size but changes little in shape as it moves towards the right. Mid point the line shape is strong and stable. Then, in the next shape, there's a leap to giant but awkward uncertainty of new form. When I drew that clumsy shape I felt a sense of failure and discouragement.

It took a leap of "oh, what the hell" faith to let go and scratch out the four little squiggles to the far right. Without the awkwardness I wouldn't have leapt, and those three elegant leapers wouldn't exist. Three out of four isn't bad... and therein lies Eileen's story of hope for the future.

Not One to Stand Still

Here's a "cropped card close up" which you will see even closer if you click on the image. The lines are India ink, drawn with a crow quill. This one has an ink/water wash to create a sense of atmosphere for this person's very active life. His young years are on the left, so he's oldest at the right side of the card. I'm staring at that odd shape on the right and wondering what he's up to! I surely don't know, but it does look like he's still fishing for ideas.

Shapes of Things

Plateau Hopping

I just noticed Neal had to go through the shadows in order to progress up to levels 4 and 5.

The Beauty in a Good Jiggle

I'm sticking Joseph here in, just to see if you're paying attention. This guy clearly has a charmed life, which I hope to emulate for the rest of my days.

What Can You Build in Thirty Years?

I have been trying to pick one drawing out of 900 to represent my show. This is so difficult I just want to eat those cookies, pound a few nails (wham, wham, wham!), and draw some more...

But that is just one day's thought. Above is a lifetime of learning and living. I wonder what Hershel ate during his teen years. I wonder if he is satisfied with his constructions in life. Does he feel confident in his ideas and how he expresses them to others? This Hershel on the card has a little smile. It looks like he's keeping any negativity zipped up inside his shirt, but maybe he just knows a satisfying way to express it.

I found this name the day after my daughter came back from college. I recognized the city as that of her institution. I asked her if she knew Ted. Remarkably, he was her professor of one month, and had lived at that particular address back in 1975 or 76. The card was blank at the time, and I had to draw on it. What a panic! My daughter would be appalled if I did a dud drawing - which has definitely happened more than once. (Part of life is a multitude of dud days, all to be glaringly apparent at my show where no card will be thrown away.)

Now that I look back at this drawing I chuckle that I must have called forth the hypnotic energy of a whirling dervish. If he could create beauty so mindlessly by trusting his body to do the right thing, so could I! And don't we all, in times of need.