Sheep

Bonfire by the talented Lisa Congdon (I figured you at least needed pretty things to look at if you were going to listen to my rant.)

Within the first hour of every trip home, my mom will most assuredly look me in the eye and declare political conversations off limits. She really should know better by now, and it's generally a debate I look forward to. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it here before, but despite my grandfather's best efforts* to ensure I was raised a dedicated Republican campaigner, he ended up passing on all his enthusiasm to a radical progressive. Oops.

This in no way deters him from still trying. Yesterday he popped his head in while I was working to let me know about Obama's trip to India, wondering if I knew about the number of planes he was taking and the fact that it was costing us $200 million a day. Despite my prodding him that that sounded a bit ridiculous, he stuck to his guns that he heard it on the news.


Three Sheep by Lisa Congdon

Where is everyone's skepticism? Why the immediate need to believe everything you're fed by the news media? I hopped on Google and began to do some pretty simple digging. Within 5 minutes I had ascertained that the reports were made by an anonymous source at an Indian paper. Really? U.S. outlets are just going to blindly accept that and run with it? Of course they are...at least long enough for it gain traction. It seeps through media outlets and is picked up by conservatives doing some last minute stumping. It gets repeated over and over and those listening accept hearsay as fact.

Over dinner tonight I happened to mention what I found out to my grandfather. He, of course, seemed skeptical. As we ate, I overheard bits and pieces of the conversation of the table next to us (yes, I'm that girl). More proliferation of the Obama story and some conservative railing against liberals. Information and opinions passed along as fact without any sort of legitimate backing whatsoever. I'm pretty sure my mom thought I was going to blow a gasket as I glanced at her. She, too, had heard.

Putting political differences aside, what blows my mind is the seemingly blind acceptance of the information people are presented with. Where are the seekers? If I were to hear on the news that Republicans were trying to repeal women's voting rights, I wouldn't just accept and repeat. I would research, dig, verify through multiple sources of differing credibility. After three years on the college debate team, I learned very quickly that you can find "evidence" and "facts" to support whatever position you want to take. The world is going to end in 3 days? Done. A nuclear power plant in Utah will set off a chain reaction that will speed up global warming? Done.

I guess I would just sleep better at night if people would take at least five minutes to do a little of their own digging because, if they did, I doubt** this particular story would have spread as quickly as it did. Later tonight, my grandpa popped his head in again to tell me that the news (Bill O'Reilly) was now saying those figures were likely exaggerated and incorrect. Duh. ;-)

*I remember being in junior high and brought along to work the elections with my grandpa.
**Who am I kidding? Of course, it would have spread because it served the political will of certain folks.

Just another day in the neighborhood

I took a break from working today and actually escaped the house. It hit me last night that I hadn't so much as walked outside since Sunday evening and had, instead, been virtually tethered to the family recliner, pounding away on my laptop keys trying to meet work deadlines. Un.heal.thy.

So, with Texas temperatures finally cooperating, I took a break to run some errands with my mom's car. Angelo State University was my first stop, the alma mater that I hadn't seen since I graduated 12 years ago (gulp). I went with the purpose of visiting a high school friend who is now a lecturer with the math department. I spend so much time whenever I'm in San Angelo trying to avoid anyone I might possibly have known in high school, so I decided to take a different tactic this time. The more evolved part of my brain decided I should actively seek out the people I know (and know where they are) in order to just face the awkward small talk head on. With that in mind, I girded my loins and made the drive.

Small talk did indeed happen. I heard all about the kids and family vacations. There was also the obligatory discussion about whether we kept in touch with anyone else from high school. Despite the mundane conversation, it was what it should have been...a decent way for two people who used to be close to share part of their lives and a much better way to make a connection than friending someone on Facebook.

Cupcakes and the support of a local independent business were next on my agenda.



My mom has been talking about a new cupcake shop that opened inside a local florist, so in my quest to sample new cupcakes wherever I travel, I went to pick up a few for the family. I tried my best to be unbiased, but the name had me skeptical before I ever set foot inside the shop. Cakes in a Cup? I understand the desire to be cute and come up with a play on words, but it comes off as more annoying, less clever.



Honestly, though, the name is the least of their worries. While the cupcakes maintain the appearance of similar cupcakes in well-known bakeries throughout DC (*cough* Georgetown Cupcake *cough*), their appeal ends there. I judge all bakeries by their vanilla cupcake and usually a couple more unique flavors. The vanilla cupcake offered up by Cakes in a Cup was one of the worst vanilla cupcakes I have had in a while. The icing was hard and extremely dense. One of the cupcakes above actually rolled over, and the icing didn't even dent. To make matters worse, there was very little flavor outside of huge amounts of sugar. We sampled 3 or 4 of the flavors offered and were continually disappointed (family consensus here). Of the cupcakes we tried, the Freshly Squeezed cupcake was by far the best with a lighter icing and just enough lemon zing. Even this wasn't enough to save the place from my criticism.

So, kids, public service message of the day: If you're ever in San Angelo and feel like a cupcake, skip Cakes in a Cup and go try a cookie from Hauffman's Cake Cottage.

P.S. There are plenty of people I probably wouldn't waste my breath on from high school. Those weren't even in consideration for looking up.
P.S.S. I actually had one more person on my list to look up at ASU but couldn't bring myself to do it. Too much baggage associated with this one just to walk in blindly. Maybe another day.

I brake for barns

It's true. While a stoic red barn highlighted against an azure sky (preferably Pantone 2718 C) is always a head turner, I am lured in just as easily by the faded patina of a greying structure on its last legs. Barns are somewhat romantic (like when Christopher plays Funny Face on the side of a barn for Lorelai in Gilmore Girls) and admittedly sometimes scary (having played a role in any number of scary movies. Anyway, when I saw these stickers at the conference I was at last week, I knew I had to pick one up. As the girl who is always trying to convince friends and family to stop and pose in front of barns, I couldn't resist.

I love you so much

Search for Stars Hollow: Mason, TX

I feel like it's important to continue cataloging all misses in the search for my own Stars Hollow because maybe not quite right for me is perfect for someone else. On Friday evening, I drove through Mason, Texas en route from Austin to San Angelo. It was dusk, and as I rounded the central courthouse square, I was charmed by the bevy of shops lining the street. A banner strung across the street advertised an upcoming wild game dinner to benefit the community. Secretly, I vowed to convince my mom to come back with me, and true to my word, we were headed there Saturday morning shortly after breakfast at the Charcoal House.

Mason has a population just past 2,000, and like many small towns in Texas it is anchored by a central court house and square. We ended up haphazardly choosing a good day to visit as musicians and artists lined the square to hock their wares.

I hate to admit that the art was mediocre, but whatever, it was. I love bluebonnets and windmills, but I get tired of seeing so much West Texas art feature these symbols in such typical ways. What was truly heartbreaking (to me) was how hungry these guys were for sales. It was awkward to walk down the sidewalk and be pitched so actively. As I passed the work of one artist who caught my eye, I picked up the painting out of curiosity to find out what it was priced and felt so bad for the girl as she stumbled over herself to tell me the price was negotiable. She would have been so much more affective had she stuck by her price and been more confident.

The square itself is lined with an antique mall, a few gift shops, a museum and a couple of cafes. I got the impression the main street economy was geared toward tourists like us as the antique mall was way overpriced, and the other stores along the way had nothing really unique to offer.

Despite some of the Stars Hollow similarities I saw when passing through, I knew Mason wasn't for me when we walked within earshot of some local electioneering at the court house. I didn't linger to find out if the political leanings were right or left, but experience and common sense leads me to believe we would have been at opposite ends of the political spectrum.

In a region where cactus outnumber people, "cool" Fall temperatures are a balmy 82-90 degrees, and the politicians are likely conservative, my Stars Hollow I will not find.

Hey, Paula Cole, the cowboys are here

Conference over, and I'm back in San Angelo until my next Texas conference in a couple of weeks.

After a couple of months away, I always manage to convince myself that San Angelo isn't very western or country.

Clearly, I have an amazing ability to blank on reality. At breakfast this morning, it appeared Wranglers were required for admission, and there were too many cowboy hats to count at dinner.

Austin: Day 1

I always forget how amazing Austin is. As a native Texan who has explored many of the state's nuanced crevices, both large and small, I find liking Austin cliche. Paul Goldberger* put it best in today's speech when he said that Austin is the one place in Texas that everyone from places like New York and San Francisco can agree to like. Still, the proof is in the pudding, so to speak. Austin has a lot to offer.



Last night Charlie (the brother) picked me up from the airport and dropped me by my hotel. I ended up getting a room at the Austin Motel on South Congress (SoCo). While I'm a good mile from the conference hotel, SoCo is a fun, walkable neighborhood. There are tons of independent shops and restaurants, and the entire neighborhood just has an open vibe. The Austin Motel is fun because it has themed rooms and a laid back atmosphere.







Texas, however, is killing my Fall buzz. I got up this morning and was able to have breakfast outside in my flip flops. In fact, the pool at the motel is still open.





Anyway, I walked across Town Lake into downtown in order to find the Hilton and check-in to the conference. I then camped out in the hotel lobby to do some work and wait for the opening plenary at 5:00.**





I fully anticipated being bored during the plenary but was so glad to be dead wrong. They kicked off the session with some live music from local musicians (check out Phoebe Hunt, phenomenal voice, cool fiddle, with the Belleville Outfit). As entertaining as the music was, it was far from the best part. The president of the National Trust was motivating and even Laura Bush had some great stories. However, Paul Goldberger,  the New Yorker's architecture critic, was phenomenal. He said so many things that were quote worthy and inspiring. I've been searching the internet for video of the speech and am hopeful he will post a transcript on his site. I left the 2-hour assembly pumped and brimming with ideas.

I capped the evening off with tacos from Guero's Taco Bar up the street from my hotel. After sampling the Al Pastor that was made with marinated pork, pineapple, cilantro and lime, I can see why it's one that put them on the map.



*OMG,so brilliant that I'm going to end up gushing.
**5?! It felt late for kicking off a conference, but who am I to judge?

When the paint dries and you can finally sleep

The event is over. The paint is dry. I am tired. I'm working up an effort to write something more interesting in the next couple of days. :-)









Despite the fact that we moved the location (closer to the dam, which was great) of our press event the day before it happened, I'm still please we were able to spice up a little bit of the site.

Everything is temporary

Here's a little sneak peek at my *surprise* project for work. I got so pumped today when I saw how breathtaking it was. I'm refraining from posting more because I want certain people to be surprised in person.



I need to spill a little bit about my struggle today. The artists are only painting a small portion of the site that will be most visible to folks attending an event. There are other areas along the path still covered with graffiti. One piece, in particular, is a giant penis. I went there today with every intention of painting over it.



However, as I was standing in the paint aisle at Home Depot with a can of Kilz in my hand, I couldn't help but stop in my tracks. The Kilz label talked about its effectiveness at covering stains, and as I pondered what I was planning to cover, I began to feel bad for the penis.

I realize I over think a lot of things, but I began to wonder who I was to judge this particular graffiti piece. Does valuing one particular style of graffiti over another make me into a bourgeois elite poser? Aren't I entitled to my own aesthetic? Why should I value this particular rendition of the penis as worthy of any kind of permanence?

Anyway, you can see what kind of random paths my thought process takes. For now the penis stays, but I can't guarantee it will make it through the weekend.

Schoolyard memories

Have you ever stopped to marvel at how quickly some things become antiquated? I remember being in junior high and my mom telling me how I needed to take typing because it would be a useful skill to have. Typing. I bet they never even fathomed how much of our lives we would spend tethered to computers and mobile phones. Can you imagine typing still being offered as an elective? I swear I'm not that old, but knowing that I took typing makes me feel a little older than I should.

Any antiquated memories you'd like to share?

jazzyjen.tumblr.com

It all began at the Sugar Shack

Ravena got me thinking about race and art the other day when she mentioned wanting at least some art in her home by African American artists. One piece, in particular, she had had her eye on for a while was Sugar Shack by Ernie Barnes.



I was unfamiliar with this particular piece, so I felt compelled to hit up Google and see what I could find out. Turns out his style is neo-mannerist, a term I'd never heard of until Google further enlightened me. The elongated limbs and fluidity in the work reminded me of the illustration on the cover of the children's book, Salt In His Shoes, and it seems the illustrator, Kadir Nelson (Abikanile's Prayer below), is also a student of the same movement.





I hadn't really ever given much thought to the artists I like and what their race is, so it was definitely a challenge to search for new artists with race/ethnicity as my first criteria. I can't decide if not factoring this in is a luxury just given my own race or ignorance on my part.

Anyway, back to the fact that Google was not helpful. Typing in "African American art", "art by African Americans", "black art", etc. proved extremely limiting. I am very much a believer in that your history, culture and life shape your art. However, I refused to believe that art by an entire population of people falls into a few narrow categories*.

I should admit now that my second criteria was that the art also had to appeal to me. Would I put it on my wall or in my house? You can rest assured that I would display anything I've included here.

Right when I was about to get frustrated with Google I came across the work of Jacob Lawrence and mixed media artists Romare Bearden and Radcliffe Bailey (respectively below).








If you remember all my yammering about Lisa Congdon, you'll know I'm a big fan of collage pieces.

I was still struggling though. I wanted cutting edge, even more contemporary, so I headed to Etsy to see what they had to offer up. If I thought Google was bad, Etsy plum near terrified me. Such.horrible.pieces. The great thing about Etsy is that magnificent might just be a click away. Patience is how I stumbled on Atlanta artist Shadra Strickland.

My luck held out, and I discovered these beautiful pieces by Tabitha Bianca Brown.

Honestly, my real break came when I discovered the article, Race issue a two-edged sword for black contemporary artists, by Blake Gopnik. While these pieces aren't really ownable unless you happen to be seriously wealthy or a museum, I wanted to hop on my chair and shout "yes! yes!" when I saw them.

Glenn Ligon (unknown, Excerpt, No Room #36)






Kara Walker








Lorna Simpson




Yinka Shonibare




Each of these artists deserves their own post and discussion of how brilliant they are, but for now, I think I'll just stop here and see where the discussion goes.

**All images pulled from corresponding artist's website.**

*I need to debate this out with my group of folks because I kind of want to explore this a bit further.