August 31

August 30

we are all just prisoners here, of our own device

Today was one of those days that I should label "bad," but in the grand scheme of things, it is not really bad. I can't call it bad at all-- no one died, there were no car accidents, lay-offs, diseases, disasters, tragedies. In the vast landscape of days before and following today, this one is destined to fade from memory completely (unless, of course, I read this).

So while it was not what I would call a bad day, it is one I am glad to have over, glad to be rid of, glad to come home to a person and two cats who love me. A pox on your existence, August 29th. Good riddance.

Last night, I thought to myself, gosh, I don't think I have cried in months. I can't remember the last time I did. That's good, right? OK, movies don't count. Listening to Hilary talking up Barack and trying to brush off her disappointment brought tears to my eyes. (No, I am not talking about politics, I am talking about empathy for that bitter disappointment.)

Moving on. I thought this last night, then thought, "I wonder if that is why I have so many hives and allergic reactions right now." You know, the tears allow you to vent, or you bottle it up and it sneaks out through your pores. I know I know. New Age bullshit. But when you are this itchy, you resort to crazy thoughts.

This morning, I had an upsetting dream. The content wasn't significantly bad, but I was very upset in the dream, and when I woke up, I started crying just thinking of it. When I remembered the thought I mentioned above, I felt relief ("Oh good, now I've cried.") and instantly stopped crying ("Darn, that's probably not enough."). Even though it was a short cry, I did become melancholy most of the morning.

It was in this mood that my boss accidentally slammed my finger in the door.

I wasn't going to make a big deal of it-- I want them to hire me. But as soon as he left, my lip began shaking and I wanted to cry. I go to my office-- and there is someone in there using the printer. And they need help. For the rest of the day. And interrupted me while I tried to work. So I didn't get my work done. And I left late, ruining my Friday night plans.

Later, I'm in my office, alone briefly, and a man wanders in (who looks homeless). He asks if I have seen the other professor, and explains he was this man's student thirty years ago. I say no, he doesn't come in on Friday. The man asked if he could leave him a message. I said, you could, if you would like, you can use my phone. He starts leaving his message, explaining who he is, and "your secretary says you aren't in..." to which I interrupt, "I am not a secretary." He turned back to the phone and said, "she says she's not your secretary." He hemmed and hawed and then asked where the bathroom was. Anything to get him the heck out of my office.

The icing on the cake of the day: yesterday, four guys wanted to add my class, today, none of them do, and someone dropped my other class. Normally, I am happy to have a smaller class, but short of getting the Dean to run me over to give me a pity-job, I am convinced I need to show my worthiness and usefulness in all these imperceptible ways. (Yes, tricky, I know; see above about the hives.)

I walked home at 6:30 (I got to work at nine, had a work-related lunch, so didn't leave the building that whole time. Apparently, it rained at some point.), during which I called the Illinois auction house (I couldn't go to, from having left so late) to make an absentee bid, and buy myself a quirky, arty present. Assuming I win the auction. This would be the highlight of the day, by the way.

As I turned onto my street, I see the local pedophile, standing legs-straddled over the sidewalk, staring in my direction. I don't know if I have mentioned him here before or not, but he is my direct-next-door neighbor. I usually avoid eye-contact, but the last time I saw him as I left home, our eyes did meet, so I felt obligated to say hello. He continued to stare at me in his creepy, menacing way, and neither smiled not responded. Hence, when I saw his opposing stance down the street, I decided to take the alley instead. That would never have been true in California.

I came home to discover my sweetheart had reinstalled my computer without my asking, knowing, or backing up of data first. Everything is fine (I think), but I don't even step on cracks or walk under ladders this close to three major exhibitions (of which the work is not printed or burned into a DVD yet).

Basically, I am having trouble with folks of the opposite gender right now, and I am trying not to feel paranoid that I also work at an all-male college.

And that was my day. Should be bad, but really, I did my job, even if it was inefficient. I will have good classes this fall, even if not as full as I'd like. And nothing terrible happened. That's what I keep telling myself.

August 29

August 28

The Seasons Turn Turn Turn

In a few hours, the summer is officially over. It has been wonderful, busy, and transformative. I hope for more such moments. I have entries in my mind about academics, about living in the rural Midwest, about teaching in an all men's college (as a woman)... But I may not have time to write them before they are lost in the chemicals of my brain, doomed to be flushed out with a strong sneeze or violently spicy dish. Alas for those thoughts. Probably not worth repeating anyway. Sent from my iPhone

August 27

August 26

August 25

Make me a famous professor

My face appears randomly on the internet, my name tragically butchered, but no mention of my presentation itself.

August 24

Video Preview

Check it out!

August 23

August 22

Upcoming art shows

I just posted my upcoming shows on my news page. It is hard to be factual about it, when I really want to jump up and down for joy. I also look slightly like the figure in the photo on that post-link. Hope to see you there!

August 21

Anniversaries and iPhones

Today is our 4 year anniversary. To celebrate, we went to Indy & bought iPhones (?) and celebrated with Maggianno's. Oh, Maggoanno's, how I've missed you. Tonight, we have a picnic at the president's house. Fancy! This text is brought to you from my new phone while waiting for dessert.

August 20

The art world through a magazine

I have just spent my lunch hour in the campus café, perusing my recently arrived copy of Aperture magazine. I had to break down and subscribe to apply for a portfolio review (which I also paid a fee to be considered for), and normally, I am 100% morally opposed to paying a fee to have my work seen. However. It is Aperture magazine.

I haven't read all the articles completely, and I haven't digested all the images fully, but it is really a stunning magazine. [I hear you-- "This is common knowledge, Kristen. You kind of missed the boat to blog about this." I don't care, I am using my First Amendment right to be redundant.]

The magazine size, printing quality, paper stock are the technical beauties that make the magazine worth looking at. Believe it or not, this is very important to me! I will not print my images on 'plain paper', or have them made by Walmart One-Hour photo (you get what you pay for), so it is delightful to see magazine reproductions that make the work as beautiful as I suspect it is in real life. It is a magazine that makes me smile to crack its binding open.

The cover itself is graphically wonderful-- everything an art magazine should be. Art Forum International also does a lovely job with layout, but they do not use such nice paper. [In their defense, they come out more often too.] What I am looking for specifically is an aesthetic approach that actually compliments the artwork, rather than trying to exploit every inch with some extra feature that might entice you to open it (if the cover model jammed into the tight space between text isn't enough). Aperture doesn't even put the date on the cover. Title, art, no other text. There isn't even a barcode.

All of that is superficial. Content is king, I know, but if I feel dirty even touching the thing, I am less likely to read the articles. These articles I can read with pride, and are written so I am likely to finish them completely. Each article is complimented by several pages of full color images, again with no extra junk to distract from them. There is a fascinating article on a Hitchcock film and the associated film stills. Two of my art heros are in there (Joel Sternfeld and Duane Michals-- with new work I haven't seen yet, and such a nice way to see it). There are articles on classical photography, photojournalism, contemporary art, and virtual art (via Second Life). A new artist I loved (new to me) was Claudia Angelmaier. She re-photographs books. Her image of my favorite Dürer painting pretty much had me sold (sorry, can't find her piece online).

I have used my lunch hour and have to go back to work, but the articles are awesome... check them out. I think I will be using the Hitchcock movie article by David Campany in my beginning class. It isn't on the website yet, but it is very interesting.

August 19

Canoeing

This weekend, we went canoeing on Sugar Creek. It is regionally known for its scenic views and easy paddling. We opted for a really long trip-- 15 miles-- which meant we did have to speed up at some point. There was also a lot of drinking, mostly on the parts of everyone else in the water. I assume it is like that all the time, not because they heard two time-tested lifesavers were among them!

The canoeing was beautiful. The drunk people were funny. The workout was nice but not too strenuous.

As you might have noticed, I took a mini-va-cay from updating the site this weekend. Because of implications of Indiana's homicidal motives, twitters about canoing, and lack of daily death references, my parents jumped to the conclusion I had actually died in the river. Obviously not: I believe no body of water can kill me (though I don't plan to try my luck any more than I have already). I do have to revert to my earlier hypothesis that Indiana is trying to kill J. During a routine canoe stop for a bathroom break, he fell in a ditch and sprained his wrist. Don't worry-- he's fine. But it is hard to not find it a little funny.

August 18

August 15

August 14

Production stills

Working with child actors

August 13

All Good Things... continued

Stills from All Good Things Will Come to You Soon

Indiana killing me softly

A few months back, after a series of near catastrophes (read here and here; I never wrote about the car accident) we had come to the conclusion that Indiana was trying to kill J. All in good fun, to say such a thing, but there were some close calls, and some of these things we are still recovering from.

We specifically thought it was after J. Anything that happened to me, well, I had gotten in the way of 'it' getting to him. Then, summer arrived.

I haven't had a chance to post images, but Indiana seems to be a veritable cornucopia of insect life. The numbers of wasp species is stunning; the Dobsonfly was shocking; the giant butterflies skiting about have sent interns and J after them with nets for a key scene in the video. All of these constantly send me to my favorite bug ID site to see what is what, and what it does.

Which brings me back to my hypothesis that Indiana is trying to kill me. Don't get me wrong-- Texas tried to kill me once in August, more than a decade ago. I had enough mosquito bites to make my knees swell and send me into a fever. Apparently my immune system has had enough and developed an allergy to them (as it does with everything else I get too much of: cats, contact lenses, strawberries). In Florida, I grew my allergy to the black fly, lovingly called a "no-see-'em." My feet may still be scarred. Those were places I was visiting. They were temporary. I actually live here. On purpose! And the chiggers of Indiana are welcoming me with open arms-- I have the welts to prove it.

Welts, sunburn, ragging rivers have not stopped the filming of my project. Occasionally, we are stung by nettles (oh, good, I found them first), swarmed by gnats (they go straight for the eyes, then up the nose), chased by wasps, and generally cut off from bathrooms, food and water (starting to keep all these things in the car).

Still worth it...

August 12

All Good Things Will Come to You Soon

Stills from All Good Things Will Come to You Soon
Digital HD Video, video installation, dimensions variable, approx. 25 minutes looped

This site is neglected, but the work I am doing now is drawing all my attention. Here are some sneak peeks of the video in progress.

August 11

August 10

August 9

August 8

August 7

August 6

August 5

August 4

Reflections and Roaches

I have been having marvelously successful shooting on my project. It has caused me to step back and examine how I got to this point, and to give thanks if you will.

I am the kind of person who obsesses over the details that lead up to any particular event in a single person's life. Sometimes I try to predict things based on those details.

Sometimes small details have large and impacting consequences.... was there a well-meaning liberal lobbiest who cut me off in an LA traffic jam, finally sending me past my tolerance levels of suburban sprawl and hence, making the idea of a job in Indiana appealing and exciting (despite the horrified looks of friends and family)?

These kinds of influences can be projected back for generations. Example: Four generations back, a mother died very young, leading to her daughter having to take care of her siblings. Her life was hard and uneducated. This expectation was passed to her daughter, who worked hard to put her only son all the way through college. She wanted him to follow his dreams and reach his goals, not to feel the encumbrance she and her mother felt, and indeed, he didn't. She may have regretted that later, or maybe it never occurred to her he would not feel the same obligation she did, because of how she raised him. And he raised me the same way. There are thousands of other things that affect the course of my (or any) life, but I see this as another influencing factor for my emotional acceptance of moving to a state like Indiana, after living for so long, and relating so strongly to, a state like California. They are both physical places, but we can't help interpreting them as states of mind, ways of being, and for me to be willing to challenge that so easily, to leave all I know and expose myself to such changes, I see as a profoundly significant moment.

Hence, I trace the origins of each moment by looking through my life and through all those who have ever influenced me or those I love; I follow the character and plot development, look for the foreshadowing. We are all our own novel.

Saturday, I was in a 121 year old one-room school house, directing a section of my video. I felt something on my neck, and casually reached up to brush my hair from my shoulder (forgetting, of course, my hair no longer reaches my shoulder). On my touch, it slips, and what is then clearly a beast, falls immediately down my shirt. I do a little (quiet) dance, and it falls to the ground, running its (thankfully) tiny (disgusting) roach body under the threshold of the door. Things have lead up to that moment of a roach falling down my shirt, but I wouldn't change them for everything else they've brought me.

August 3

August 2

August 1