Composers Manefesto -"Bloody Mary"

For this class we had to write a composition that utilized unconventional instruments and/or unconventional sounds to create a musical performance piece. When I was writing my musical composition, it was about a week from Halloween, my favorite holiday, and I was feeling in the spirit of spooky things. I also wanted it to be a piece that people could have a good time with. I kept thinking about how to connect sounds to a ghost story and when I couldn't find a suitable short story that had the right feel, I decided to write a poem myself. To me this structure seemed more appropriate anyways because of the rhythmic sound stanzas can create. My notation could have been more clear I think, because the class did have to perform it twice. The storyline in the poem was about Bloody Mary, an all time classic of urban legends. I read a bunch of "true" and made up stories about her to think of the sounds I could make. I had people whisper "Bloody Mary", scratch on desks and the carpet, make rumbling noises with hands and feet on the floor, rattle the doorknob, shake a piece of plastic to simulate wind and thunder, any random noises that others thought were weird, then a bell. The sounds were supposed to feel like they came in softer and grew louder throughout the story, allowing the suspenseful feeling to grow. Then the ring of the bell signals the sounds to abruptly halt, because to me, the sound of complete silence after a noisy ruckus is really eerie. Hopefully my composition was fun for people to perform and got across the spooky emotion that I was going for.

"Serse" at University of Northern Colorado

The performance of "Serse" at the Langworthy Theatre was great. I attended on the night where Serse was played by Joseph Young. Even with the amount of time we spent talking about the tradition of men singing falsetto, it was still a slight shock to hear that voice come out of such a big guy. My initial hesitation was quickly wiped away though, because his voice was just beautiful. He came out on the stage conveying such a miserable and heartbroken emotion. Singing to the tree, he really utilized his physical motions and facial expressions and I was entranced. All the performers had terrific voices and both Kristina Abernathy and Zachery Wilson especially stood out. When Elviro puts on the dress, Wilson's lanky physique is a natural advantage in making it especially hilarious. They were both really funny and breathed life into an otherwise mediocre storyline. I usually enjoy the love gone awry storyline, but this one was just to fancifully conflicted and resolved. While the play itself was good, I'm really glad that the director decided to change the time and setting to make it more manageable to a modern audience. The little details, like the posters and Amastre spray painting the peace signs, brought the Iran comparison to the forefront in a subtle but notable way. Also by making sure the repetitious sections were accented by movements and emotive actions by the singers, it helped keep me engaged. There were a few minor issues throughout the performance that did distract me a little from the story. There was the very noticeable problem with the monitor where the subtitles were being shown. It started flicking through the entire play at top speeds right in the middle of the song. While the actors and orchestra seemed like they got caught a little by surprise there, they moved forward. It was more the audience reaction that bugged me. Everyone around me started to whisper and laugh and talk about it which made me really loose the train of thought I was on and the emotion I was having. Another minor happening was when Atalanta's sunglasses fell off her head. At first the actress reacted instinctively and turned around to start reaching for them, but then she very quickly just made her motion a part of the character. I loved that. As for the sets, they were really amazing. The pillars were cool and constructed in a really neat way that allowed them to come up and down and change the look of the set. The background painting was stunning when he lights behind would simulate the time of day. At dusk it was especially beautiful and realistic. All around, the play was great and I'm glad I got the opportunity to hear such talented students perform.

The Role of Art in My Education

Art is one of the only things I looked forward to going to school. It was a place in my education that at least let me feel like I couldn’t go wrong. Ideally, art shouldn’t have to seem like the escape from a day of soul sucking structure, but it seems like that has been its place in my life. The only bad experience I can think of would be taking an art class at a community college and seeing that even a topic I took refuge in could be sullied by stringent regulation. My teacher there was an interesting enough man with some unique ideas on the way art should be viewed and created. Unfortunately, he believed his ideas were the only ones worth following and imposed those visions on my own. I hated it. I would work so hard on a drawing and he’d just slap a B on it along with a list of methods I should have applied or executed incorrectly. This bothered me a lot and made me get worse and worse as the class progressed because I felt smothered by his expectation. I believe a lot of students who have restrictions imposed on them on any subject will grow to loath and avoid it altogether. That is why it is so important for creativity in art and every classroom to be present and accepted even when it happens to be outside the realm of outlined standards. Art is a vital tool in bringing about passion which is necessary in any subject studied. This was its role in my education. It allowed me to know that my ideas and my work, good or bad, are uniquely mine and aren’t something to feel afraid or ashamed of.

Fuchs & Friends Faculty Recital

The concert I attended at Milne Auditorium was great. The auditorium itself is beautiful and helped set the mood for the cultured experience that it housed. I loved the paintings on the back of the stage with the columns accentuated by shadows. For the first piece of the performance, there was a violin, cello and piano. After a beautiful beginning the cello player broke a string and there was more waiting to be done. Once they started up again things went smoothly. The music was great, but it was hard for me to focus entirely. Usually I really like small groups of strings, especially since I used to participate in a quartet in middle school playing the bass. In this performance however, my mind focused almost entirely on the piano and the violin players odd breathing pattern that made me drift off into my own head. Also, I sat next to someone who accidentally had a noisy water bottle and a few times I was just trying not to laugh. But the players were very talented and when the viola took the stage for the second piece it rounded out the sound of the other strings better and was easier for me to follow. All in all a pleasant experience and a great opportunity to appreciate he faculty and their talent.

Roger Sessions "The Composer and His Message"

There are over 500 emotion words in the English language. I think this guy wanted to use them all. He speaks of music as a specific form of art which includes cognitive thought processes of a deeper emotion which harnesses the essence of the unknown that dwells inside us all. An emotion is defined sociologically as a mental state that arises subjectively, rather than through a conscious effort, and is often accompanied by psychological change. I can for sure see music as being a catalyst or a production of this definition. Emotions are affected and molded to an extent by societal standards, however, and can produce many unified feelings concerning the same situations. So when a piece of music plays a downtrodden tune, most people will be unified in feeling a sad or dark feeling since this is what we are expected to feel. This author speaks very passionately and soulfully and his views are ones I agree with mostly. Human beings do have a way to be “inspired” or struck with these “ideas” that can help us mold and shape them into concrete productions and that in itself is always awe inspiring. I also agree that we are in a primal way attached to and affected to sound and movement and seems to be something that is natural to comprehend. The author also says that he believes art to be the activity of the inner nature and not just the reproduction of it which I thought was profound and affecting. At the end was a quote from Beethoven which read “Emotion is fit only for women–for man, music must strike fire from his mind”. I just thought this was interesting from a sociological point of view and how it reinforces the idea that the inner nature and thought process can be hugely affected by societal standards and teachings. For women, expressing our emotions is considered natural although it also implies we are the weaker gender. For men, emotions are something to be harnessed and used for other means. This quote is mildly irksome to my feminine side, but Beethoven apparently couldn’t weep openly so he substituted tears for ink and drops for notes. Interesting stuff.

Idea for Improvisation Presentation

These are not the exact dialogues of our characters or anything. Just a weird little outline!

Welcome to the 2009 Zombie Beauty Pageant at the beautiful Tranquil Gardens Cemetery. Our contestants are freshly exhumed and ready to go! Please put what remains of your hands together and welcome our first contestant, Tomb-marker 78!

Go through the contest like a real pageant.

Question Portion: How do you feel about global warming and its effect on the ecosystem?
Reply: Growls and gurgles
Announcer: Interesting, you don’t see a lot of people taking that stance these days....

Talent Portion: One contestant juggles her body parts, another does singing only making creepy noises etc.

Finally they announce the runner up and winner. They receive a prize of a free lifetime supply of embalming fluid.

Announcer: Well that was a swell time folks, good clean fun, and be sure to join us next week when Miss Zombie ‘09 breaks ground on the full moon to murder the innocent, don’t want to miss that! Thanks for watching and we’ll see you then!

D.H. Lawrence: "Making Pictures"

I loved this essay. I completely agree with the authors sentiments in the joy of the creative process involved in painting or drawing. I have never considered myself an artist since I lack that primal compulsive desire to draw that I deem necessary for anyone pursuing it as a way of life, but when I do come upon moments of inspiration, that is when I can actually make a picture. An image worth being proud of and taking joy in. The author said at the beginning, “everything that can possibly be painted has been painted, every brush-stroke that can possibly be laid on canvas had been laid on. The visual arts are at a dead end. Then suddenly, at the age of forty, I begin painting myself and am fascinated”. This is an amazingly beautiful statement. Humanity has many gifts but our creative functions, perpetually fascinating with the unexplored and individual nature of them, are the most impressive. We can overcome ourselves with awe at the way something inside can flow into context, built through conception, creative construction and completion.

"Composition in Pure Movement"

Right away this article caught my attention. In the first sentence, she says she is frequently charged with ‘“freeing” the dance from music’. I loved this description and the images it brought to mind. From the start you can tell the author is not just a girl who dances in front of her bathroom mirror; but rather her art is an extension of her life and soul. I always have great respect for people who can take something so creative and make it their essence. She describes how she sees the world of music and dance and how organic it must be in its fluidity. This is what she is constantly striving to achieve in her compositions and choreography. In her mind the movement and the sound are one in the same and in order for them to work they must be created simultaneously and as a singular unit. I have never really heard of someone creating and performing in this manner, so it was very interesting to see how the author would feed off her everyday emotions and become inspired to move and then to call upon an instrument to form a partnership with that movement. I would love to see a performance like the one she spoke of, where the musicians and dancers changed spots and integrated seamlessly with one another. I think that Mary Wigman has a fascinating creative process, very much ahead of her time. It really is insane and beautiful how many levels of movement, emotion and sound she felt and expressed from ground up.

An Evening With the University Symphony Orchestra

Attending the UNC University Symphony Orchestra concert at Union Colony Civic Center was a great experience. This was a far cry from the high school orchestra I was a part of. I loved the full orchestral sound made up by all the string and brass instruments which was something we didn’t get to do at that level. I was excited to see so many string basses on-stage, though I didn’t see any girls, since that was my instrument. When I’m just listening to orchestra music, it is difficult for me to pinpoint technical aspects to judge. Theory was never my strong point. But apart from one or two violins making the ‘oops’ face it seemed like every instrument was on point throughout the performance.
I liked that the pieces chosen were all from conductors who had very different styles. It gave me the feeling of well rounded sounds and giving the audience a full of experience.

The Mozart piece was much more of what I expect to hear when attending an orchestral performance. It was neat to learn about and then to hear the three beats repeated on the horns as a hint towards Mozart’s involvement with the Freemasons. After that they played the Overture to ‘The Wasps’. I was impressed by how quick the music could get and how seamlessly they transitioned into softer tones from this momentum. Then the tone switched to an overture by a much more modern composer, Bernstein. His composition was focused around more peppy, joyous sounds and seemed to capture the audience the most out of the four. When the red headed composer strolled awkwardly onstage, me and the friend I brought with let out a collective coo. He was adorable and his flowing locks captured my heart. But really, I enjoyed his style of conducting more than the older conductor, I mean compare those pictures and tell me who you’d rather hang out with. He seemed to really have a youthful exuberance for the music and his lanky build actually looked quite graceful in its execution of the movement.

The players themselves were remarkable. Watching that many people all come together to create this flawless sound as a single organism is awe inspiring. The replication of the wasp sound was very impressive and eerily realistic. I believe it was a piccolo that I kept hearing, and every time it played it just captured my attention. The brisk, high pitched tones dancing over the strings were great.

When it comes to drawing meaning from classical music while listening, I’m slightly ADD and the sound sweeps me into a frenzy of images and thoughts that probably have no resemblance to what was intended. Classical music, for me, is the perfect background to whatever is going on in my own life. The tone of the music matches something inside me and that’s where my mind goes, then it changes and my thoughts change with it. It’s hard for me to focus on just the music. But that’s why I love classical music so much. I agree with every sentiment stated about it being pure emotion and beyond what words can describe.

It was a treat to see these very talented players playing a great mix of music and I enjoyed it all.

Collage Magic

Making these collages was fun. I have made a few in my day, but I am for sure the most satisfied with the one above. This is because I had to work within limited means and come up with something that I thought was great. Most of the collage's I've made in my past are a random sequence of events with images I liked or people I admired. This time I wanted to find and stick with a theme of some sort. Looking through my home, which I share with two men, all I could rummage up in the way of magazines was girls, girls, and more girls. So, in my mind I formulated a classic theme. Attack of the giant women! After that, things feel nicely into place.

When we were in class, we had the opportunity to take pictures of our collage and play with it on the computer in an attempt to extract an abstract image from the originals. In the second picture above, I messed with the color, shadows and highlights to create this negative looking effect. I liked it a lot because it turns my colorful picture into a dark creepy looking image. You can still define the elements in the picture, but they are distorted enough to elicit a very different feeling. The third picture also turned out great. I cropped the picture and worked with the upper left hand corner, once again playing with colors and using a tool to blur everything together. I really liked the way it looked, because it gives me the feel of an old time movie poster in the way it looks sort of cartoon like now. I was very satisfied with all of these images and how they contrast and complement one another when you see them together.

Hi, I'm Me. And You Are......?

This is my story about me and the unoriginal, but severely important, manifestation of an idea.

Before I was born, my name was determined. My mother had been thinking of names and had a tendency to drift towards T.V. sitcoms for inspiration. Tabatha, Samantha’s daughter on “Bewitched,” was put up for consideration but, thanks to everything holy, my dad was quick to shoot it down. He believed, as I do now, that it was more feline in nature than was preferred. After shopping around a bit more they finally agreed on Bailey Justine McKinney. That is until my grandmother heard it and politely coughed. She could shame a volcano into reversing itself with that cough. I was then Justine Bailey McKinney, in honor of Justine Batemen from the classic “Family Ties” and Bailey from a character on “WKRP in Cincinnati.”

I’ve heard of cultures that revere names like they are the compliment to the soul. To deny your name is to deny yourself. I thought of Rumpelstiltskin even, and the circumstance placed on obtaining his secret name. Protection and pride of this title is expected by many. Pondering these interpretations, I compared my own feelings towards my name to these ideas that names are to be venerated. In comparison, I treat my name like a common whore. I’ve watched it dragged through the proverbial grime and mud on more than one occasion and never lifted a finger to cease the attack. I’ve bore through hundreds of brutal and sometimes insulting mispronunciations without growing cold. I’ve even left it in a back alley, exchanging it for another on a mischievous night of tomfoolery. I dare say that upon meeting one of these people from the aforementioned cultures, things could become quite awkward. To me, my name, which I like by the way, has very little to do with me.

My name has always been a given. It is something that is etched into a jewelry box from my grandmother. It defines me at the D.M.V and correlates with my social security number. It is the sound that is used in reference to me. I remember one night when I was younger, my mother was sitting up with me, attempting to comfort my fears of the storm that wailed and thrashed about outside our home. In my life, organized religion was a semi-presence, but never a theme. Still, at the time I had the basic concept of God, Jesus and all that jazz, and my fear of the tempest conditions outside brought me to think on it a moment. I asked my mom a question. “Why is he called God? Who named him?” She smiled and swept my hair from my face, happy for me to be distracted from the thunder. “Well, I suppose people like you and me named him that so we wouldn’t get confused. It’s just a word for us so we can know who we’re talking about.” I remember these words because they gave me an amazing epiphany when I recalled them with a more able and critical mind. It’s just a noise, this name. A sound of recognition and nothing more. I thought of misunderstandings and wars, fought for different gods without the realization that all of them are intertwined and share so much. Maybe not in name, but in essence. All religions are based on sets of central concepts, but it’s these sounds that create contradiction and with this comes distrust and tragedy. I always hoped to avoid an identity melt down and this concept was central in giving me an amazing sense of self-preservation. A name is but a word used in context. What’s in a name? Absolutely nothing if you ask me.

My journey to self discovery has yet to begin, but I have timidly mapped out my course on the solid foundation that whatever my identity may be, it is not anchored in the words that others call me by. I mean, come on, my mom could have blindfolded herself and pointed to pages in a retro TV Guide. I take great comfort in knowing that whether I’m called Justine, Diana, Marie, or have my name taken from me altogether, I am and always will be the great I am. I am, in every way, Me.

"On the Uses of a Liberal Education"-"As a Weapon in the Hands of the Restless Poor" Part 2 by Earl Shorris

This essay really touched me in an unexpected way. I guess I’m just a sucker for basic human decency. There are so many explanations given for the condition that the poorer community lives in and why the cycle seems to be unbreakable. The most succinct explanation I have heard came from the horses mouth. Viniece Walker. The lack of humanities, of the “moral downtown”, is what this woman suggests is the cause of the poor persons inability to escape their environment. At first the author treats her suggestion as quaint, but upon further reflection begins to understand what she meant. Walker was speaking of the fact that the poorer community is deprived of the arts and a general awareness of humanities. In order to be involved in the politics of society on all levels, basic concepts of humanity that produce critical thinking and insight are essential. Without these skills they are perceived as unrefined and interaction with the greater society is compromised since it is based on these social principles. This made to much sense to be ignored and it was upon this idea The Clemente Course was initiated. Learning about the students in attendance there was inspiring. Just by choosing to make time in their exhausting situations to be in this class that could have ended up having no gain besides knowledge is fantastic. It was a real eye opener to see what this opportunity did for so many of the students, including leading many to a higher quality of existence. It was a fine example of how many people in poverty are truly capable, intelligent and want to be better, and how opportunity can make or break that mind-set. I was amazed and inspired that so much good could come out of this one idea.

"On the Uses of a Liberal Education"- "As Lite Entertainment for Bored College Students" Part 1 by Mark Edmundson

Mark Edmundson has got a point here. While reading this essay I couldn’t help but measure myself against the melancholy description he uses to generalize my generation. I cringed to find laid before me such a painfully accurate description of the group of sedated and seduced young adults that I associate with, and unfortunately, belong to. I appreciated his analysis of the various forces in the world that combine to create an apathetic environment, and then proceeding to fill the internal space with commercial goods. I felt for him when he spoke of the way he was required to relate to his class in pop culture terms in order to elicit any interest. These youths more closely resemble zombies constantly interacting with mechanized devises used to avoid human interaction. Instant gratification is something that has bred like a virus into every corner of our society. Critical thinking and application of imagination and creativity is long and hard. Too hard, it would seem for many people who simply take gratification in hiding from the meaning of existence and just blandly exist. Fear has so much to do with it, as the author pointed out. It is not the young peoples fault that generations before have led us to this precipice of intellectualism. It’s not our fault that the school system has come to pander to our comfort and become enablers to a path of complacent, insipid futures. But it is our fault that we sit back and accept the way of things. We must brush the moths from our coats and plunge head long onto the imposing and difficult road that other great minds have trekked. After reading this essay, I was overwhelmed with the sense of guilt in my part of a unified failure to bring forth and appreciate any true genius. These minds are salvageable to us and we are surely doomed to remain ignorant while we allow these essential contributions to our beings to be shoved aside in favor of momentary commercial delight. I am already an avid reader, but this essay has shifted my literary goals to obtain much more of that excitement he feels towards knowledge and inflame some earnest desire to be even better than I think I might.

"Bygones" Pantoum by Yours Truly

A storm is coming.
Disorienting flashes chase me underground.
Unearthing boxed memories,
They have a stale smell.

Disorienting flashes chase me underground.
Other faces gaze up with smiles,
They have a stale smell.
My face past and present turns away.

Other faces gaze up with smiles.
Ominous roars remind me of my place.
My face past and present turns away.
My self treks paths it had once thought lost.

Ominous roars remind me of my place
Absolving mistakes made in haste.
My self treks paths it had once thought lost.
I know time is failing, amends must be made.

Absolving mistakes made in haste.
Unearthing boxed memories,
I know time is failing, amends must be made.
A storm is coming.

"The Woman Who Lost Her Names" by Nessa Rapoport

This story was more difficult for me to understand seeing as I am nearly completely ignorant on the topic of Judaism. Also, the way that the story unfolded seemed rushed and I never felt myself develop a personal appreciation for the characters or, the plot in general. Fortunately these aspects of the short story were not a complete hindrance in deciphering some meaning from the tale. The focus was on names and the meaning they have in certain contexts. The main character was a woman who began her life as Sarah Josephine, named for her grandmother and uncle. When she reached kindergarten her name was changed to Sally so she wouldn’t stand out amongst her classmates. “The girls in her class had radios, then TVs, then nose jobs and contact lenses. They grew more graceful in their affluence, and she grew a foot taller than all of them, early. There were many blond girls in her class each year, and she’d stare at their fair delicate arms whose hair was almost invisible” (Rapoport, p.2). This says to me that her Jewish ancestry was something uncommon in her school environment and the change of her name was most likely correlated with this desire to mask her heritage, and with that a name is lost and a part of her identity is brought into question.
As she grows older she develops a strong desire to leave America for Israel, presumably because her families strong beliefs have permeated her with a hope to truly belong and what better place than her native land. She marries her first cousin Yakov Halevi who has himself been stripped of one name for another through matters of circumstance. The relationship between these two characters was interesting. At first he seems to be the one who has expectations beyond his tradition. He is a poet and has an innocent, open-minded appreciation of America and his bride. Sarah adores him, enough to stay in America for some time beyond her wishes, as well as once again giving up her name and accepting Yosefah as a replacement.
When the couple finally moves to Jerusalem, the tables seem to turn in the couples viewpoints. Suddenly the husband seems to be the one conforming to cultural and traditional expectations whilst the wife is obviously struggling with her identity in a way. It seemed to me like she began to suffer the ‘grass is always greener syndrome’. The description of her life in this place is far from the fantasies she entertained of this holy land in her mind as a child in America. Even when she gives birth, she is crowded and rushed from her bed in an undignified way that seems harsh compared to U.S. standards. Sarah wants to name the child Ayelet Hashachar, meaning: the dawn star. “Yakov smiled over her, indulgent. ‘This is not a name’ (Rapoport, p.7). Tradition seems to be victorious over ambition in this conclusion. Sarah sought her whole life to fit in and when she ended up where she thought she should be, she continued to defy her environment in her wishes. The ending was a bit unsatisfactory for me in its abruptness.
Overall, the message is one of maintaining an individual nature. Even though Sarah lost her own names and still managed to hang on to pieces herself, she still puts immeasurable stock in the fact that the child’s name she chose could be lost and she will end up repeating a cycle. Names are only words and it is the context in which they are used or given that places meaning upon them. This is the message I took away with me from this story.

"Covered Bridges" by Barbara Kingsolver

This short story by Barbara Kingsolver was one that I enjoyed. It’s premise is simple but surprisingly emotionally complex, following a wife and husband as they ponder their place in the procreation cycle. I am not someone who desires or rejects the idea of children at some point in time and I felt like I could relate to this fictitious couple in their hesitations to bring life into this world.
The author provides witty dialog, like considering whether or not dogs can be retarded, and has a very fluid way of describing the surroundings of the countryside and the natural elements, like the produce, that make up the scene of the festival. “Against the backdrop of harvested fields and roadside tangles of poison ivy and goldenrod, tables were piled high with local produce: handwoven baskets and corn-husk dolls, clear jars of clover honey, giant pyramids of pumpkins” (Kingsolver, p.5). I liked the alliteration in that passage and all this description makes you feel comfortable in this small town setting. I felt a vibe within the writing as they explore around the bridge and as he speaks of his gardening that, just as the character mentions, reflects those such as Thoreau, and to me Emerson, who took great personal meaning as well as spiritual stock from their surroundings. "...All natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence. Nature never wears a mean appearance. Neither does the wisest man extort her secret, and lose his curiosity by finding out all her perfection. Nature never became a toy to a wise spirit. The flowers, the animals, the mountains, reflected the wisdom of his best hour, as much as they had delighted the simplicity of his childhood" (Nature, Emerson).
“Covered Bridges” was also relishable because its storyline abruptly threw me off, from being content with the situation to being caught off guard by a sudden happening. “Then she stood up suddenly, gazed at me with a look of intent misery, and spat out something that twitched on the grass. Ursula and I both leaned forward to look. It was a hornet” (Kingsolver p.9). My heart skipped a beat with the sudden transition of a happy picnic into a life and death situation. The author set me up to experience a frequent occurrence in reality, commonly known as having the rug pulled out from underneath you. I appreciated this aspect of the text more than anything. A real point was conveyed by the author through the entire plot concerning the decisions one makes for ones future in life and the reality of the unpredictability that inevitably just screws those plans. When Lena was appreciating the wonder of a caterpillar and making wishes, the situation of her existence and the beauty around her seemed pure and sound. Shortly after this happy moment however, an encounter with winged chance brought about a perception that took into stock the reality of her mortality. This reality took precedence over the societal and intuition based expectations of having a child.
Kingsolver has woven a story that entertains two aspects of the world that can be individually and personally felt, invoking a thoughtful reflection on your own universe and what you choose to fill it with. I appreciated this story and its charm.

Seth Hunter Exhibit, "A Thousand, But More"

When I first walked into the gallery displaying Seth Hunter’s exhibit, I was struck by the stark setting. On one end of the room there was a worn dictionary laid upon a pedestal. On the other end, three small square signs hung from the wall, spattered with repetitive script. One sign conveys the message, “ten hundred is just to annoy by irritating acts or remarks”. The second just repeats a few words and half sentences, (such as although, whether, on condition that; in case that). The last sign used the phrase “make a million then you will know” to cover its surface, perhaps hinting on the fact that you can make a million cups and still end up with a different result, but at least you will definitely know how to make a cup. In the middle of the gallery floor there are wood pieces laid out with tons of cups strewn across the top. This effect was very aesthetically pleasing, because to me the cups were seemingly crowded in appearance, yet when I looked closely they were clearly separated and not at all on top of one another. The cups differed from one another, but they still managed to be seen as a whole unit with the colors being complementary and interwoven. The deformity of the middle cup was something to draw the eye, and reminded me of a black hole in the middle of a space, deforming and sucking objects into its depth. On the wood was written “Too many pages none of them are right”. This was interesting to me and inspired me to look further into the exhibit by actually turning over one of the cups. Underneath I found a word. I regret that I can’t recall to memory which word it was, and I was foolish enough not to write it down, but I thought it was inventive that the exhibit was slightly interactive. Look at the word then proceed to the dictionary to look it up. The artist seemed to really want to get a point across and used continuous methods to do so. As a whole, this exhibit was very interesting to me because of the impression it left. I felt like maybe I was being warned against the danger of repetition past a certain point. To become an expert is a desirable thing but to end your trial there is a waste. The pages are there and none of them are right so reliving this circumstance and reading the same pages is not helpful. I have no idea what the artist actually intended but I enjoyed the work and have come to my own helpful conclusions about its message.

A.W. Thompson Photography Exhibit

A.W. Thompson’s photography exhibit was striking when I first walked in because of the complete lack of color. Each shot is black and white and provides an ominous sensation to the sequence of visions. It was also very informative. Along with the pictures he included facts and snippets of background to the images which helped narrate the intentions of the artist to the viewer. I appreciated this because it helped me actualize the story as I walked through the gallery. The picture of the protective suits in their individual piles made me think how mind-boggling it is that these heaps of rubber and cloth are what workers use to protect against the plutonium. In general the photos were mostly very clear digital looking prints. Texture was captured in detail on materials ranging from cloth to the stones scattered on the ground, and this helped to make it seem solid and right in front of you. The photographer didn’t try to use anything fancy to shed light on the situation. Instead he just lays these images out and allows them to have their own impact. I didn’t really notice the rule of thirds as being a prominent theme of this work. Mostly the visual patterns I noticed seemed to have the pictures separated in halves. There were several photographs that stood out to me. “Waste Characterization and Repackaging Glove Box, Rocky Flat Nuclear Weapon Plant, 2003" was one such photo. This snapshot is a clear image, but there are windows on each side that reflect a sort of a blurry otherworldly atmosphere beyond this protective box. I felt a true sense of the weird when looking at the gloves that seemed like severed, empty remnants of some human substance. My imagination grasped onto this inscrutable sensation and led me toward a gruesome thought, comparing the material lying on the table to that of a child ripped apart and individually packaged. Eeew, I know. Another picture that caught my fancy was the picture that showed the view from the Rocky Flat’s to Denver. How horrifying in its simplicity and the message it sends. I discovered a sight of environmental and bureaucratic failure is separated by a strip of desolate prairie from my beloved city and that is a message I will carry with me. In essence, I believe this was the artists intention. To leave the viewer with a simple, but effectively dramatic, representation of a situation in our own backyard.

Definitions

Creative- Creativity is defined as the use of imagination or original ideas in order to create something. I always thought of creativity as the internal realization of a commodity within us. It is only physically perceptible when funneled through a medium, but its boundaries are boundless. Creativity is an inherently human characteristic and it is what has helped us develop as a species and discover unthought of possibilities. Creativity can transform raw material into new concepts and ideas allowing for progression beyond natural boundaries that would otherwise be impenetrable.
Imagination- “The faculty or action of forming ideas or images in the mind; the ability of the mind to be creative or resourceful”. This is the seemingly simple definition of imagination. It really is one of the most fascinating aspects of our nature. The imagination, to me, is the combination of our conscious and sub-conscious and the influence of the day to day information absorbed by each. We are able to gain new insight into situations because we can imagine the solution and work internally and externally to bring it about. This is the start of the creative process that can lead to development, both physically and emotionally. It is a function that takes the frequent and fashions it into the fantastic. Imagination is a partner to creativity and is also a matter of limitless possibilities. The human potential is exponential when we are equipped with the sense and ability to see past our own noses.
Culture- “The arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collectively”. I always think of culture as a separate collective. This is because culture can be different within separate areas in the world and the perception and appreciation of the aforementioned manifestations can vary radically from one to the other. In another context, I believe a person who exhibits cultural efficiency is generally known to have a worldly view upon art and humanity. To be cultured is to be informed of the collective spirit of man and display emotionally and socially receptive qualities when approaching the admiration of humanities creative dexterity.

Einstein's "Letter to Jacques Hadamard"

The letter from Einstein is a difficult one for me to clearly interpret. Einstein is attempting to verbally reproduce the creative process he goes through in his discoveries and theories. From the beginning I shared his trepidation in doing so. “I am not satisfied myself with those answers...”. Personally, I am respectfully dazzled by greater minds than my own. It seems it is futile enough for me to fathom their intellectual process let alone the sources behind them that provide direction. This letter is an insight that I appreciated into a different side of a man I would have thought lived in numbers. In seems that he instead formed his ideas within his imagination, spiritedly exploring this realm with insight and application to the world around him. What I took away from this was that his creative process was nurtured, organic and fluid. Words were a secondary accomplishment in this process and only suitable outside the initial creative sensations that led to the idea. Einstein’s creative process is truly interesting, and made me humanize an icon whose thoughts seemed beyond my reach. We are at least equal in our creative capacity as human beings and this is a comforting realization.

"Conversation with Picasso" Reading

Picasso is a man who's paintings invoke in viewers the need to realize a motive behind an image. His work is fascinating and obscure at every stroke and brings with it the evidence of a mind that lies entirely within its own state of creation. Christian Zevros attempts to document Picasso's own words and it was very interesting for me to find out some of what Picasso thought of the creative process and his viewpoints on his own internal process which brought about his own paintings. "Heretofore pictures moved towards their completion by progression. Each day brought something new. A picture was a sum of additions. With me, a picture is a sum of destructions. I make a picture, and proceed to destroy it. But in the end nothing is lost...". In a most appropriate fashion, Picasso's thoughts, as written out by Zevros, are conveyed without order and without sequence. This layout was essential in making his words come across as seemingly hurried snippets of advice and information, attempting to have persons who come across these thoughts understand an internal purpose that, in its essence, is ever changing and just as alive as the person it occupies.
Possibly my favorite idea from this text, was that paintings should be appreciated in the same context as any everyday natural phenomenon. "Everybody wants to understand painting...Let it be understood above all that the artist works by necessity, that he is, he too, a least element of the world, to which no more importance should be attached than to so many natural things which charm us but which we do not explain to ourselves". Meaning is relative to the central purpose of his art which was simply to expel a natural creative process that was as much a part of him as a heartbeat. He took in life and from it created visions that are meant to simply be; and this is their glorious purpose. I agree with Picasso that creativity is a process that plays out differently for everyone, but humanities inner urge to fashion our own thoughts and sensations into something substantial does seem to be a part of our natural system.