Plateau

The micro docs are no longer micro. I originally intended them to be 3 minutes. In general, I think this is a good thing. Maybe 3 minutes was too short. The last clocked in just shy of 6 minutes. I'm currently at 5 minutes and I still have about 18 minutes of interview to work through. My goal on this one was 6-9 but if I can top it out at 10-12 I'll be happy.

And if you're just tuning in after a hiatus, I'm working on 3 projects simultaneously. All relative. It's interesting.

One for the Road

This is what 4 days of work looks like. That would be 4 afternoon espressos and this morning's coffee. I have very roughly assembled 8 mini-segments and I'm still listening to Peggy Lee, just because. 

Index cards.

I'm working on the 4th micro-doc. The footage has been uploaded and I'm in the middle of logging. I had the questions written out ahead of time. Everything was set to go smoothly, but we ended up conversing on and off camera which made it difficult to remember what was on and off camera. There were tangents. I should have kept the camera running. My goal is 3-5 minutes.  I shot on Friday, uploaded on Saturday, and on Sunday I began looking at footage. I'm currently at about 18 minutes of selects and have 14 more minutes of interview to screen. I took a short break to check a message. My computer had a bizarre crash. Black screen with multiple languages telling me there was a problem and it had to shut down. I was watching Dick Van Dyke advocating for Bernie Sanders on Facebook. Dick began stuttering like he was having stroke and I was wondering wtf was going on when the computer crashed. I'm still not sure what happened. I started back up, but it's late- 10:30pm. I'll start cutting tomorrow. I'm nervous at this stage. I always am. Once I see structure, I'm okay. Sometimes I start cutting B-roll to music I'll never use just to see hope. Right now it's Peggy Lee, "Is that all there is?" I'm obsessed with that song lately.
Index cards. 

Cicadas.

Periodically I reflect on the lackluster name of this blog, Process, and wonder if the title is still accurate. Some days I wish I had been a little more witty in my titling, maybe addressing some kind of word play with a specific nod to philosophical influences or something a little more obviously Zen, but having passed our 10-year anniversary rather quietly last fall, I’m happy to report Process is still on the mark. 

I’ve privately archived posts the majority of posts from 2005-2008. I left an art review and an essay about John Baldessari for old time’s sake. 

State of the Union. 

It’s 2016. Near, mid-February to be non-exact. The show at Marcia Wood Gallery comes down this week. Three reviews, all good. The Atlanta crowd was gracious.

I’ve been in Nashville past my expiration date, as noted by the recent letter I have received from the DMV. I have the option to have a new picture taken in which I will appear 5 years older, or to keep the last picture where I look like Aileeen Wuornos. I must have been wearing a scoop neck top at the time, because I look like I could be naked, only Aileeen Wuornos naked. It's not a look that works on me. 

The studio and the concept thereof, have shifted in the last year or two. Nothing to cause alarm. I am a periodic cicada. I produce work in prolific cycles. By accepting this, I've experienced a great freedom. As I write this, I’m building stretchers and have the beginnings of my next solo conceptualized and gestating in the room I call the paint studio. The idea came while driving one of the two loaner cars I had while my car was being repaired due to rodent damage. In other areas of my home/studio, I’m working on a Repair Project involving textiles and labor, and in the office/edit suite I am playing around with “new casualist" video art, (to co-op a phrase from Sharon Butler).

But that’s not all, gentle reader. Once I let myself leave the cult of painting, even more flow happened. I’ve been interviewing female artists and those in the arts for a series of micro-documentaries I’m producing—and writing, the thing I have the most trouble defining, figures in all this work prominently, if only for the sake of language. I’m voraciously reading like it’s  1988/89/90.

I wrote a ton of poetry in 1988/89/90, which in my mind, is one long year. There is a valid explanation. As a day job, I waited tables on a train car and travelled. I took poetry classes at the University of Chicago Graham School, and I broke my leg and wore a cast up to my pelvis for almost a year. Actually, the cast went through 3 phases becoming shorter with each cast. The actual casting sitch was about 6 months with crutches and and your basic gimpness lasting for the remainder of the year. I’m not sure if the above order is even correct. It was a long year and lot happened. Merlot and caffeine were involved. Chicago. 

Like everyone just discovering themselves, I got hooked on the Beat generation. After doing a few poetry readings, my poetry teacher invited me over to her place in Hyde Park for tea. She told me I should be submitting my work to publications like the Paris Review. I never did. I don’t know why. Most of my poems were about food. My day job was as a waitress. Later, a flood came along and I saw my writing folder floating in the basement. There was a red millipede or two. I let it all go. Only one poem survived and in the interim I had chronicled the better parts of my first marriage in a zine. My ex asked me not to write about him after the divorce. Or maybe I was afraid writing would beat painting, like paper trumps rock. When you’re in a cult, you get like that. Everyone is competing for your attention and in some weird way you champion the underdog until it’s no longer the underdog and you let it work itself out. The same happened with abstraction and representation, painting and video, video and writing, writing and painting. Cicadas, all of it.

****

Feb 9, 2016

What I do when I should be looking for work*

Nashville

* more on this later

I'm reading a good book. I had a bad dream my first night back, and the opening was great.

I extended my stay in ATL because it was a solo and I felt I deserved an extra night out of town. I like reading in hotel beds and waking up in semi-dark rooms two hours past my 6AM wake-up time.  It's a guilty pleasure that happens about once every three years. The opening was great. Super nice crowd. Very warm and welcoming. I met people for the first time and had tiny conversations that made sense. The word 'love' was tossed around. The work felt loved. I felt loved. It was a good night.

Mary Addison Hackett 

A Tin of Egyptian Cigarettes 

Marcia Wood Gallery MIDTOWN

1037 Monroe Dr NE Atlanta 30306

January 7 - February 6, 2016 

Opening reception: Thursday Jan 7, 2016,  7 - 9pm

ART IN AMERICA: THE SATELLITE SHOW MIAMI December 1-6, 2015

ART IN AMERICA

Curated by Julie Torres 

Tiger Strikes Asteroid’s ARTIST-RUN
THE SATELLITE SHOW MIAMI
December 1-6, 2015
http://satellite-show.com/hotel

Work in Progress

Stills from Keeper of the Furniture. [video]

When worlds collide. Tomorrow is a big day. 58 boxes of fine goods and several sticks of furniture will leave my presence. I won't bore you with the minutiae. It's been a 5-year struggle. It's not over, but I can see an opening. I have a love/hate relationship with antiques and china, and have pitted my art career against the niceties of life, constantly hedging my bets on which will pay off in the end. I have made mistakes on both accounts, and I am tired. 

Chantal Akerman's life work and recent suicide has stuck with me. Gnawing at me is more like it. I've been reading and re-reading texts about her, her own writings, and I can't get through a paragraph without being inspired. Pages are dog-eared from years of reference as though I was hoping my thumbprint would pick up some of her brilliance. Her films and writings have re-ignited an insistence to make a difference. Damn the status quo and popular consensus. It's a great loss when people you hold the creative torch for take their own lives. I'm grateful for her work and the people who have written about her.


I packed and repacked boxes. When I ran out of boxes, I figured that was a good stopping point. I had hesitated for so long thinking there was more art to be made, ALWAYS more art to be made. Useful props, stories to tell. Stuff and more stuff. But truthfully, it wasn't the stuff, you know. Or at least I hope someone figured that out. You can never tell here.

In a send-off to the furniture, I worked on a video. Pulling together disparate elements I may have figured out  how to unite my writing and art together visually. It feels right.  If so, it's a beautiful thing and I'll be in fertile ground. If not, I'll be happy to keep digging.

On Film Editorial and Writing.

Steve Hullfish interviews Pietro Scalia about editing The Martian and how film editorial is very much like writing. Yes. Exactly.

A post about people who think you are don't know what you're doing.

Someone, please, a ticket to pass go. Stat.

I desperately miss being around people who have some sort of cognitive reasoning when presented with something different. It's painful.

#Dearth.

RIP Chantal Akerman. Thank you for your contributions. You will be missed.

I am saddened by the death of Chantal Akerman. She was an early influence and someone whose films I've refer back to repeatedly throughout my own work as an artist.

Update. It’s been reported that Ackerman committed suicide.
**• In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255. In the UK, the Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is on 13 11 14. Hotlines in other countries can be found here.**

Over on Twitter, I'll be dedicating tweets to links and tributes about her work.

From the NYT

PARIS — Chantal Akerman, the Belgian filmmaker whose ruminative, meticulous observation of women’s everyday and inner lives, often using long, protracted takes, made her a pioneer in feminist and experimental filmmaking and influenced generations of directors, has died in Paris. She was 65.

Filmography

Chantal Akerman, From Here (2010)
Role: Herself

The State of the World (2007)
Role: Director

Demain on Demenage (2004)
Role: Screenplay, Director

From the Other Side (2002)
Role: Director, Cinematographer, Screenplay

The Captive (2000)
Role: Screenplay, Director

South (1999)
Role: Director

Chantal Akerman by Chantal Akerman (1996)
Role: Director, Screenplay, Producer, Actor

A Couch in New York (1996)
Role: Director, Screenplay

Portrait of a Young Girl at the End of the 1960s in Brussels (1994)
Role: Director, Screenplay

D'est (1993)
Role: Screenplay, Director

Moving in (1992)
Role: Director

Nuit et jour (1991)
Role: Director, Screenplay

Contre l'oubli (1991)
Role: Director

Histoires d'Amerique (1989)
Role: Director, Screenplay

Seven Women - Seven Sins (1987)
Role: Screenplay, Director

Letters Home (1986)
Role: Director

Golden Eighties (1986)
Role: Screenplay, Director, Theme Lyrics

Paris Seen By... 20 Years Later (1984)
Role: Director, Screenplay

Elle a passe tant d'heures sous les Sunlights (1984)
Role: Actor

L' Homme a la valise (1983)
Role: Director, Screenplay, Actor

Les Annees 80 (1983)
Role: Screenplay, Theme Lyrics, Director

Toute une nuit (1982)
Role: Director, Screenplay

Dis-Moi (1980)
Role: Director

5% de Risque (1980)
Role: Actor

Les Rendez-Vous d'Anna (1978)
Role: Director, Writer (dialogue), Screenplay

News From Home (1976)
Role: Narrator, Screenplay, Other, Director

Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975)
Role: Voice, Screenplay, Director

Je tu il Elle (1974)
Role: Screenplay, Actor, Producer, Director

Le 15/8 (1973)
Role: Director

La Chambre (1972)
Role: Screenplay, Actor, Director

Hotel Monterey (1972)
Role: Screenplay, Director

Almayer's Folly
Role: Director, Producer, Screenplay

L cuts and dado cuts all in the same day, d'oh

...and I removed wallpaper and painted a room last month, officially saying goodbye to the last vestige of the room formerly known as Dining. There's still a chandelier in the center. There are two chairs and it makes a nice place to sit and look at art. That's the main purpose of the room and it's perfect. I painted the walls white. Alabaster, based on a recommendation. I wasn't sure about it at first, but golly, it works. I'm still partial to Dover in the office. Softer.

I don't think "finding balance" means divvying up work tasks evenly throughout the day, though I am beginning to find a rhythm between wood shop, paint studio, office, edit suite, and home maintenance— and in a way this makes everything feel less urgent. Like right now I'm at the espresso bar after cutting corners—seriously, I cut triangles this morning for the stretchers. I'm in the middle of re-stretching a canvas, building another stretcher and sorting through old handkerchiefs while conceiving the technical side of a new body of work in my head. This evening, I commence editing a video for a public arts proposal, and the proposal writing itself.

And so it goes. Hello October.