Monday, September 26, 2016

Looking for a new Portfolio site.

Fellow photographers, filmmakers, and artists, what are you using to showcase your work? Squarespace and Adobe Portfolio are more expensive than what I'm using (even if what I'm using isn't working), which is a deterrent. Are there more, good resources to check out?

I want to move my portfolio off of wordpress, because it doesn't do what I want it to do, and I'd like to think that if I'm paying for something it would come close to doing what I want it to do, which it doesn't. I need a portfolio not a blog, (my blog is separate and elsewhere).

Thoughts, suggestions, warnings?

Sunday, September 18, 2016

I've become that eccentric middle aged lady I've always admired.

I'm at my one day a week job, skimming the internet for more work, because lets be honest one day a week... .

Where I'm from I'd be considered a teeny-tiny bit eccentric, if my looks even registered as peculiar at all, I'm still presentable and employable, my clothes are in good shape, I wear nice shoes, and I'm generally clean most of the time.

I like being wacky looking.
I don't want to be anything but eccentric.
I like eccentric.

I did grow my hair out to my natural color while I was in grad school, it took two years and the novelty of that wore off and I hated it (I have dark ash blonde hair BTW). I learned that my hair is naturally frizzy, it wasn't the bleaching or coloring process making my hair look fried, it just grows that way. I also learned that my hair is a lot curlier than I know how to deal with, and fine, and limp and stupid looking. My hair color doesn't do anything significant to change my overall presentation to the world, I still have tattoos and piercings. So there.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Taxi #5

HOMEWORK: for a Post-Cinema class, I cut out all the scenes with characters from the film. I don't recall the title of the film now, it was the worst film ever made, and I wouldn't suggest anybody ever watch it, it was truly horrible, this cut is way better than the actual movie if I do say so myself.

Seriously, worst film ever.

Aeon Fluxish : Juxtoposition

HOMEWORK: for a Post-Cinema class, I juxtaposed cuts from the first episode of Aeon Flux with cuts from the live action film. 

Mocha Princess Ninja strikes in slow-mo


Sunday, September 11, 2016

Chicken Wrangling

While visiting some friends, they went out for the night and I was asked to put the chickens away. Lest we forget, I'm a city-folk.

Now that I’m done with school I want to go home

I don’t know why I bother even thinking about living anywhere other than the Pacific Northwest. I think I spend so much time achingly homesick that it effects the rest of my life. 

Now that I’m done with school I want to go home.

The one thing I seem to be a wuss about is my deep affection, nay love for my homelands. 

I feel like, a salmon hatched in Seattle who went out to sea to mature, and now it's time to return to my home river. 

I went away to school because what I wanted to learn wasn't being taught at home, I feel like it's my duty to return home with my new stuff. 

I have a sense of responsibility to the community that raised me, the community I helped to build, the people and places of the Northwest are part of me. 

I think about living other places, I've tried living other places, I usually want to live someplace warmer but I always go home. I love home. I've always longed for a sense of ancestry, a sense of being locked to a place. I knew my family came west but I didn't really understand the story. In the time I've been in school I learned that my (dads) family is an original Oregon Trail family. My g-g-g-grandpa came from Ireland, kind of hated America as it was at the time, moved westerly a couple of times, participated in the Underground Railroad and finally left the US to the Oregon Country in 1845 (part of their party are the famed Meeks Cut Off folks), before the Civil War because he wasn't jiving with slavery. My family moved because they were abolitionists. Some folks settled in the Willamette Valley OR while others backtracked to what is now Eastern Washington. My (paternal) grandmother is from Nez Perce ID. My mom is from Montana, although her family moved west from the Mid West in her infancy, my (maternal-m) g-grandpa shipped from Liverpool, (maternal-p) g-grand cam from Scotland. The places they came from isn't as important is the final landing spots and the spirited drive to get there, that is what I'm drawn to. 

All of that is to say I belong in the PNW. The sense of ancestry and place I've longed for is there; "there" is a big triangle with Seattle at one point, Helena Montana at another, and Eugene Oregon as the last point.  

I love quite a few other places, the Bay Area, Southern California and Southwest, and I'd love to give these places a try, but for now, I'm aching to go home.

Now to get my husband on board. 

Sunday, August 14, 2016

The things I need in a new town

Not all that long ago, living in Seattle, when I'd meet people from other places, in natural conversation they'd say "I live in ____" and I'd honestly ask, (if not a little snobbishly), "Why'd you want to live there?" emphasis on "there". Having spent most of my life in the Seattle area, a place filled with, like, all of the things that bring me joy, I wondered earnestly if other places have what Seattle, (or Tacoma and TBH PDX), has. Now, as we're trying to figure out where to move next I've compiled a list of things that I think of as requirements to fill my creative needs, to help me plot. It's a ridiculous list, a truly ridiculous list, and I'm confident that few places outside of major cities would have such an eclectic bunch of stuff. In making the list I can say I have pretty unusual requirements, it's a bit silly really, but as I'm missing all of these things I recognize their importance to me. So here we go, an incomplete list of bullshit things I want where I live:

Fabric stores, specialty, from sails to veils
sew & vac repair
stereo hi-fi repair
Art supply stores
Any combination of shops to make up for Display & Costume
Costume boutiques (that one on Roosevelt, seriously)
Vintage stores, furniture and clothing
A variety of thrift stores
salvage places, auto, building supplies, interior finishes
record stores
custom t-shirt shop (this comes up a lot in my life)
more than one tattoo shop
event rental stuff, lights, sound, etc
BIG industrial arts center
local, non chain hardware stores
local theaters
arthouse cinema and second run movie theaters
locally owned booksellers, new and used
locally owned eyeglasses boutique
Korean spa (lady needs a scrub down)
Local reprographics place
Asian markets, from candy to veggies and spices
lots of ethnic take out, I don't want sit-down boutique noodles
schwanky shoe boutiques
specialty stores like Daley's or that fly tying place on NW 15th
Army Navy surplus places
Corner stores
Game arcades
a magic shop
Jerk Church.
haberdasheries, and not just one
recycled bicycle place
tool lending library
camera shop

and then the regular stuff:
Appreciation and celebration of local indigenous cultures,
_wide_ ranging cultural/ethnic diversity and representation,
civic programming supporting poor and underserved citizens, universities, museums, farmers markets, local breweries, bike lanes, parks, municipal golf, tennis and pools, light rail, ban on styrofoam and plastic grocery bags.

I know the big o'l cities have all this stuff.... I need to know where else.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

tl;dr fuck class.

I wouldn't classify as "white trash", nor the other end of the average person spectrum, middle class, I'd say my immediate family is solidly working class. My mom spent her working years in pink collar work, my dad, when he worked served the rich as a craftsman creating the finer things in their lives, he managed apartment buildings, (an ultimate lazy man's job), later he put his carpentry skills to work as a state employee. Radiating out from my parents, my family had someone who tends to your dead, cleans your fancy clothes, pieces together major infrastructure, others had higher level service jobs, selling fancy things and teaching. Second cousins had more access to higher educations than we did, keeping conversation at major family gatherings interesting. We lived in gritty industrial cities nobody outside of the state could quite place, we lived in rented houses and apartments under the power lines, next to the train tracks or next to the freeway; alternately, out in the actual woods in logging and coal towns or in the places airplanes are made. It's easy to say "I'm from Seattle" but really I'm from Redmond, Mercer Island, Spokane, Arlington, Kent, Black Diamond, Shelton, Maple Valley and Tacoma. I didn't meet an actual rich kid until I moved into Seattle at 11 and went to school during a time of desegregation, which put me in the company of kids whose parents wanted them to have a public school experiences, people who lived in real mansions behind gates with guardsmen. Once I was out on my own and ever since, I've been poor. Like really poor, like living without running water or heat poor. The people I spent my formative years with had similar lives, we're the people who make and sell folks the nice things they have in the houses they own, pour their drinks, put food in front of them, entertain them, we're in the business of making sure they have a fun day or a nice night, we provide things we can't ourselves afford to enjoy.

For most of my life this arrangement has been fine, I'm a pretty good salesperson, I've been a charismatic entertainer, and a competent craftsperson, I love what I make especially when it's pretty good. I'm filled with joy when other people want to give me money for the things I have made, however I get weird when that exchange turns into a service. Are they buying the product of my artisanship and skilled craftsmanship, are they using my skills to manifest something they themselves cannot execute well, are we in agreement or am I reading their mind, am I making a product they're buying, are the commissioning my artwork, or are they ordering something from the Q factory? Making curtains for a restaurant is one thing (side hustle), grant writing and designing a site specific artwork is another (product of formal art training). I hate to admit to myself that I see capital A Art as a service provided to rich people, and I wonder if that thinking is the result of my upbringing.

Chugging along through college under the impression that it was a way out of poverty, I have attended a community college, a fancy pants art school, and a top 5 university. The class disparity between myself and the academy has never been more chilling than at the university. The faculty is amazing and diverse and is comprised of people I'm perfectly comfortable with and would like to maintain lifelong relationships with, it's the students with whom I share classrooms with who make me feel incredibly out of place, not because I didn't deserve to be there, but because I'd more likely sew their table-runners or have built their wine cellars, or have sold them their motorcycle helmets than ever be invited into their homes as a guest. The city I've called home for over 30 years is fast filling up with the people I'd more likely sell something to than people who'd invite me to dinner.

The education I have achieved doesn't prevent me from going home, as it does for the author of the linked article, but rather it's cemented me in my acceptance of being working class. It has shown me that aspiration is a bit complicated and a little dirty. That while it's totally okay to want a comfortable middle class life, it's also totally cool to make do with just keeping the lights on and have new books flowing in. The author noted her NACAR t-shirts as a tie back to her roots, for me it's punk rock, I'll show up at the gym wearing a band t-shirt I've had since god was a child and the whippersnapper trainer will laugh at their perceived irony of a grad student wearing such a thing to the gym, hahaha. Piss off.

The conversations surrounding white privilege are complicated for me, I think because because of a loop of assumptions, I assume that everybody else assumes that because I'm white and educated that I haven't experienced crushing adversities, that I assume a certain set of privileges, yeah, no. I legit assume that every time I leave the house I'll get arrested, hurt or killed for being female or punk. Meanwhile, I am still poor, first and foremost I am a poor woman. I understand, respect and appreciate that even with the little privilege a poor white woman has, it's more than many others, I will participate in conversations which work to illuminate privilege, it's inner workings and how to work within it. The best I can hope for is to take what I've learned in the academy and sow these seeds in unexpected places, the best I can hope for is to be that one memorable teacher who saves some poor kids life through art. For me that teacher was Wayne Swanson, I hope I can have a similar reach as he with his career as an art teacher.

Friday, July 15, 2016