Scientology...

I just took a Scientology Personality Test for my Narrative Art Class and have to choose four questions that I'd like to explore in strip-comic form. The test was fairly weird and had a fondness for asking questions about auditory disorders: "Do some noises 'set your teeth on edge'? Do you ever get disturbed by the noise of the wind or a 'house settling down'?"

Here are my top four questions:
92. Are you a slow eater? Yes!
127. Can you get quite enthusiastic over "some simple little thing"? Um, my French Press?
131. Can you quickly adapt and make use of new conditions and situations even though they may be difficult? Mali? Seattle?
158. Do you laugh or smile quite readily? I'd like to think so.


Comment I just had with my sister at Starbucks:
Amy: So our birthday is coming up soon. (note: we have the exact same birthday despite being 3 years apart)
Me: I know, 22! I feel like my mental age will have finally caught up with my real age.
Amy: Michael, you're mental age is like, 43.

Deadline=Extended

Excellent. My 8:30 AM class just got cancelled and our semester has been re-scheduled so that the bristol board sketches are no longer due tomorrow. I'm relieved, not because I dislike this assignment, but because I enjoy it so much I really want to put a concerned effort into the narrative and layout. I did begin some preliminary sketches of moose and illustrations I want to include (like moose being carried by helicopters in slings, like Michigan turkeys and Canadian pregnant moose greeting each other as they pass at the border). It's rough, but that's how brainstorming goes.

A rabbit in the bag is worth two in the...

The money shot from this morning comes from hanging the rabbit mask in a plastic bag in front of a window. Sara describes it as "sensual" and I totally agree. I'm in love with the eerie flesh tones.

Moose Research Updates

For a Monday, I’m obnoxiously happy. Of course, it could be the fact that I had a cup of coffee at 8:00 (photography), another at 1:00 (installation art), a tea at 4:00 (meeting with a professor) and another at 6:30 (meeting with a marketing director). Happy and hydrated, that’s me.

I’m supposed to be using this blog for my Narrative Art: Reportage class (hi Prof. Gloeckner) and post my research. Today I finally got a hold of two wildlife biologists that had been involved with Moose Lift and the moose re-introduction project. I enjoyed getting first hand narratives about how they used helicopters to dart the moose. Favorite fact of the day: sometimes, after being hit with a tranquilizer, the moose fell asleep standing up and the helicopter had to nudge and prod the moose until it fell over. I don’t know about you, but as an artist, I hear details like that and immediately know that it’ll make a great illustration.

The more I read up about this project and moose behavior, the clearer my narrative is becoming. At this point, my very rough outline is as follows: At age 6 months, a bull calf has to leave his mother and begin his own life. During this process, he learns about his personal/family history, starting from his mother who was one of the original translocated moose from Ontario, an elderly moose who is one of the few native Michigan moose, and a young adult male who is concerned about global warming (moose overheat very quickly and need lots of shade and water during the summers. Biologists think that warmer temperatures may be affecting their reproduction rates). In the end, this moose returns to his mother for the winter and says something profound to bring closure to this mini-saga. And they lived happily ever after…

Off to some more research. And write a better conclusion. Night everyone!

Recent Photo shoots

I'm working with a hunting mask from Mali, Sara's working with babies. We're both having fun.

Assassins Poster Version 2.0

Some watercolors, bleeding ink, and hand-lettering makes for a much darker poster than the original version. I like.

Late Nights

Sigh. Yes, it's 11:30pm on a Friday night and I just arrived at the UgLi with a fresh cup of coffee to start studying. My life has gotten to the point where I wish there were 28 hours in the day, with the extra four being secret ones that only I'm privy to and can use to catch up on things like...homework or sleep. I think that's all I would really need, just four solid hours each day or uninterrupted time.

Funny how busy one's life can become. I miss Mali time.

I'm trapped in a snowglobe, except it's happening outside

My Installation Art course got out early, but I can't go home just yet because I have a meeting at 4:30. And then training at Sweetwaters (we're taste-testing tonight!). There's homework I should be doing, but unfortunately, it's all at home. Too bad.

So I'm just sitting on my favorite art school couches, watching the snow slowly fall and I wish I was back home with a fire in our living room, drinking hot cocoa, and reading a book for hours without feeling guilty about not being "productive." Maybe this weekend...I'm realizing just how packed my school week is and I'm thankful that it's only Mon-Thurs.

I'm starting research on this artist, Brian Jungen, for my Installation Art class. I first heard of him in an UTNE article this past fall and have been following him since. Here's my favorite piece, as made from plastic lawn chairs:


And another made from Nike shoes:



I think they're absolutely elegant and look forward to learning more about his ideas. I'll report back.

Culture Shock?

I recently had a thought about my lack of reverse culture shock and my return from Mali in general. As I've been catching up with old friends and professors, I've been surprised with how unreal and foreign my experience sounds when I retell the story. It's almost like I didn't even go to Mali. Weird. Maybe it's because it was such a complex and deep experience that I can't sum it up in just a few sentences. Or more likely, it was just a completely different world that there is nothing here in my life in Ann Arbor that reminds me of Mali. No language, no food, no smells, no wandering goats, no music, no hot sun, no people, nothing. And so it becomes hard for me to be nostalgic for something if I'm never reminded of it's existence. That scares me a little bit because it seems like my experience exists solely in Mali, that I didn't changed my life enough to bring it back with me. Or maybe I have, you tell me.


On a lighter note, I'm watching the State of the Union address with my friend Karen. Our drinking game is to take a swig of beer every time she freaks out and stands up to yell at the TV. I think we're going to go through the six-pack before it's over.

I think all the clapping and standing up is ridiculous. I get tired just looking at it.

Favorite Karen quotes: “Stop it! Stop lying to the American people!”
“The HOLY LAND? Who ARE you? Where is the separation of Church and State in this speech?!”

I love Karen. (applause)

More projects

Here are some photos I shot this morning in class. I'll be working with this object for several weeks and am currently interested in seeing how this artifact from Mali exists in our very different society. Today's assignment was to just explore the object with various artificial light and I ended up with something that reminds me of a DJ at a club. Just having fun here with my new camera (photos have been resized for the internet. Originals are amazingly clear):

A quickie

I'm trying to multi-task here, having a quick lunch, chat with friends, and do my "daily" bloc. It's a weird overcast day here and everyone is moving around as if they're slowly waking up, but never fully. Or maybe it's just me.





ha. I've been staring at this computer screen for the past five minutes, typing a sentence and deleting it. I guess I don't really have anything to say. Maybe I should just post a picture or something.

Okay, this is my preliminary design for the musical Steve is directing this spring, "Assassins." There's still a lot I want to change, but here's the basic concept (click for a larger image):

Thoughts from above Ann Arbor

I'm holed up in a study carral at the Hatcher Graduate Library, a strange cubicle-like environment that I actually prefer because it affords beautiful views of Ann Arbor. There's a light but steady snow flurry and it's a good afternoon to get some serious work done. I'm listening to my recently acquired music, Imogen Heap...check out "Hide and Seek" if you haven't already.

I just visited the map library to find maps of Algonquin Park and Marquette County, the locations where the moose were transferred from and to, respectively. This is such an amazing resource here at U of M and I intend to take full advantage of it during my last year and a half here (oooo, heart flutter/panic attack. That's really not a long time until I'm dumped into the "real" world).

And then I printed off three articles from Michigan Natural Resource and found perfect photo essay of helicopters carrying moose in slings. I'll upload the photos when I return home.


So I felt a bit anxious yesterday, having a somewhat unproductive afternoon and an ever growing list of things to do. It was the first time I felt that adrenaline rush (or caffeine) for a long time and it leaves a bittersweet taste in my mind; sweet because it actually makes me a more efficient worker and bitter because I'm more tired and stressed. I had plans to see the School of Music's Collage Concert at Hill and then attend an afterparty later in the evening and was worried that all my work hanging above my head would distract me from enjoying myself. As soon as the trumpet ensemble began and their clear tones filled and cut through the space of the auditorium, I realized nothing could have been further from the truth. I had forgotten how amazing the acoustics are at Hill as well as the transformative power of live music.

Music is so good at evoking emotion and personifying beauty and it made me think of my own work. Right now, I feel this self-imposed pressure to do some sort of social-good through my artwork, that making something beautiful isn't good enough. And this makes me become a hesitant artist. The students I saw yesterday were absolutely uninhibited with their talents; they are the true artists who are taking a risk to pursue something they love.

Still, in a world of so much suffering, poverty, and inequalities, what becomes my role as an artist? Do I have some sort of responsibility to others? But what about to myself? Don't I have a responsibility to become the best I can be?

These are just some questions that are floating around my head...especially as I prepare for an exhibition in Chicago this March (have I mentioned this before?). A friend is co-curating a show on organic art and given my background, she encouraged me to create some sculptures. Actually, they're using my images from Summer 2005 Sculptures on their posters! I'm excited to finally flesh out some ideas I've been carrying, but nervous about the time restraint. I'll post more on this project later.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend everyone!

Today was pretty.

I'm a bit fatigued (isn't this always the case when I finally have time to sit down and write?). Apologies in advance for incoherence and random stream of conciousness writing.

Well I "forgot" to write yesterday. Oops. For class we went to the Map Library at Hatcher, a place I'd been meaning to go for a long time. Of course, I fell in love with it, but was unfortunately not feeling well. So after our introduction, I ducked out early and vowed to return this weekend for more serious research.

I did find a book I'd been looking for, Ellen Dissanayake's "What is Art For?", as referenced in my winter break reading: John Carey's "What Good are the Arts?" (notice a theme?). I'm surprised at how much I'm enjoying art theory, especially now that I have a somewhat solid grasp of basic art philosophy. Dissanayake looks at the role of art in society from the perspective of anthropology, evolution, and biology and it's really resonating with my own personal beliefs about my art making. It also looks cross-culturally, not just the western art history we've all been indoctrined with since grade school. I've just finished the introduction, so I'm sure I'll be bringing it up in future posts.

Good news: I got hired today at Sweetwater's Cafe, off of Main St! I'm somewhat nervous about balancing my time (and my parents are especially apprehensive), but I think it will help add more structure to my weekends (and make me more efficient?). The shifts are only 5-6 hrs, so it's managable. And I needed the money.

My list of things to do this weekend is rather long and I'm sacrificing my Friday night to get a head start. 'Til tomorrow!

I love school!

Okay, I've had a long day but I'm writing with one cup of coffee in my system so I'm good for another half hour or so.

Up at 7am, made breakfast with Karen at 7:30, had photo class at 8:30 (including a critique), went swimming at 11:30, had lunch with Bobby at 12:30, had my print/installation art class from 1:30-4:30, had SAS (student government meeting) from 4:30-5:30, had dinner with my future housemates for next year and just got back to my room at...8:50pm. I'm sure I'll be exhausted in another week or so, but I'm currently loving being back in this environment. I thrive at this pace, however masochistically.

Highlights: -having really positive peer/faculty reviews on my photographs, an unexpected and reassuring surprise.
-talking for two hours on art theory, specifically multiplicity and reproduction. I've missed these deep artistic discussions.

Ummm, I think that's all I want to say for now! The beauty of writing every day is that I don't feel the need to do my epic musings.

Stay warm everyone!

Moose Obsession

The more I dig deeper into this project, the more infatuated I become with moose (or meese as my mouth wants to say). I've done some prelimenary research from the Michigan Department of Natural Resources (DNR) and during class on Thursday will begin to track down official reports/records from the reintroduction project, as well as contact my uncle in the Upper Peninsula who just so happens to be a park ranger.

There's so many great visuals to be used (and exaggerated upon)...61 moose being helicoptored from Ontario to Michigan, the trade of moose for wild turkeys, pregnant moose, Canadian moose vs. US moose, etc.

Here are a few leads I want to follow up on, as listed in the Moose Project Chronology.
-1985 Bull 20 (a.k.a. "Gulliver") roamed from Marquette to Chippewa Co.
-1990 A 2 year-old cow moose struck and killed by a minivan on M-28, Baraga Co; hide tanned for educational demonstration; meat salvaged and donated to charity.
-1992 MDOT abandoned "moose crossing" signs on M-28 because of repeated thefts since 1986
-1996 Nuisance bull unsuccessfully hazed with crackershells and truck horn from farm in northwestern Baraga Co., then darted, radio-collared, and translocated 40 miles away
-1998 Grouse hunter found a bull moose trapped in tangled, old telephone wire

And another interesting twist: Because of heavy lumber activities in the late 1800's, the landscape changed in the U.P. to favor white-tailed deer over moose. If losing your home wasn't enough, what if your new neighbors were hosts of a fatal parasite? The deer carry brainworm, which have little effect on the deer but can wipe out moose populations. Wolves used to keep these white-tailed deer populations in check, but of course, are no longer as prevelant due to hunting and habitat loss. The population dynamics fascinates me.

I'm loving this research collection stage in the project, partly because IT'S SO EASY. Well, easy compared to the french library I was used to in Mali. Access to information is so abundant here... I love it!

I'm thinking about using this as a framework to create an allegory on immigration, tongue in cheek of course. Come on, what's funnier than 61 pregnant Canadian moose trying to live in the United States (granted, the U.P. is a lot like Canada, but that's a whole 'nother blog post).

Photo Assignment #1: Light

Ah. I've missed photography. I'm looking forward to a great semester.

Ice in the Morning

I awoke at 9am to find my house and neighborhood completely silent, as if the ice that clung to every surface had somehow sealed away the usual morning sounds. It really is quite beautiful outside...dangerous too, but I'm seated comfortably on my couch and so I feel safe.

This reminds me of a family trip to Virginia several years ago. An ice storm had hit most of the region, knocking out power for awhile. I recall driving around with the family, surveying the damage of fallen branches and trees. At one precarious point having witnessed numerous spin-outs, my mom became obsessed with protecting our eyes. Something about branches falling and shattering the windshield. All she had were her sunglasses and so for the rest of the trip, she sat nervously, looking like some blind person in a winter wonderland.

Note: my roommate just left to bike up to north campus. I think he's crazy but admire his dedication to the sport.

Safe travels everyone!

Soup and stuff

Not really sure what to write about today, but I'll just go for fifteen minutes and see what happens.

My schedule of late has switched from early riser to night owl and I'm not entirely sure if I like it. I'm enjoying the social festivities that are keeping me up until 3am, but I hate sleeping in until 1pm. I feel like I'm just wasting half the day and not being as productive as I used to be last year. Maybe this is part of the reverse culture shock I've been waiting for since returning from Mali. Or maybe it's just this 3-day MLK weekend and a general lack of homework to keep me busy.

In more interesting news, I just returned back from Zack Denfeld's weekly soup night. This week's showdown: Corn & Potato Chowder vs. Clam and Pasta soup. My personal favorite, the Clam and Pasta soup because, as Christina pointed out, Zack unknowningly(?) chose pasta that resembled some tentacled-like creature. Lots of crazy conceptual video art and amazingly, someone found a folk song about chowder. Mostly, I just enjoyed the eclectic mix of people Zack brought together. These opportunities to exchange stories and ideas are so important in the artistic and academic world. So thanks Zack for putting this together.

Some links to check out:
"We are waste haulers. We see some interesting things and get into some interesting situations. Some of them gross, some funny, all true. And most of it secret - until now. This is where we share the things we don't want to forget." (met the creator at Zack's appartment tonight)
www.haulingsecrets.com


The Seattle Art Museum's Olympic Sculpture Park, finally opening as previewed by the Sunday NYT. Cross you fingers, I want to work here someday.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/14/arts/design/14shee.html?_r=1&ref=arts&oref=slogin

Oops

Okay, so I forgot-- well didn't forget, just neglected-- to post yesterday. I guess I'll have to do two posts today. My friend and art student extraodinaire Colleen brought me several books she thought I would enjoy as my introduction to the world of graphic novelist: Craig Thompson's "Carnet de Voyage," Jeff Smith's epic "Bone," Katsuhior Otomo's "Domu: A Child's Dream," and Julie Doucet's "My Most Secret Desire." I'm particularly enjoying Thompson's book because it chronicles his three months of travels through Europe and Morocco. I'm impressed with sheer amount of work he puts out each day but I wonder if he experiences the same paradox I face when I travel; that sometimes the documentation, either photography, journaling, or drawing, becomes the priority and you no longer have time to have the experiences worth documenting.

I'm also reading a book I picked out randomly from the library, "Scupltures: Africa Asia Oceania Americas." It's exactly what I'm interested in right now, non-western art forms, and goes into great detail about the function and cultural history of each object. And then I discovered the the book was published by the Musee de quai Branly, the anthropology museum that I became obsessed with while visiting this past December. Fate?

Who knew microfilms could be so fun?

For our first assignment, we were to find a local news story from over 10 years ago and do a follow-up feature, graphic novel style. There's a lot I'd like to comment on, like the fact that doing research here at U of M in English is easier than anything in Mali...or that using microfilms is much more satisfiying to my tactile senses than anything Google could offer...but I'm off to a dinner date with my dad and sister so it's got to be short today. Here are the headlines that I pulled up:

"U of M student discovers Carthaginian statue at dig in Tunisia" 1979
"Pregnant moose from Ontario is released in Upper Peninsula" 1985 (with three follow up articles)
"Stranded students await trip home from Mexico" 1997
"Bill Miller, a medieval linguist and historian teaches a popular seminar about Icelandic blood feuds, which is meant to throw light on some underpinnings of modern civil law" 1990
"A four-foot python named Dog escaped from his two University of Michigan freshmen owners Nov. 2 1990 as they let him slither around a dorm room floor for exercise. As of Nov. 9, he has not been found." 1990

I'm leaning heavily towards the pregnant moose and the python because I'd love to do this piece from their perspectives. But lots of research to do first. I've honestly missed doing research for projects, this gathering of information, which is probably a good sign that I belong in academia.

My Tonsils are Ginormous

Hello again. It's been awhile.

For my Narrative Art: Reportage course, I am required to write each and everyday on my blog and I am thrilled at this rigiorous exercise. It's just a good habit to have, even if there's nothing too pertinent to say.

Have you ever had one of those naps where the phone rings every five minutes and you end up waking up more annoyed with the world than when you began? It's really no one person's fault but your own, yet it's so easy to blame all the people in your voicemail. That's how I'm feeling right now. That and overwhelmed. For the first time in 8 months, I've had a full day of classes, going 8:30-4:30 and then a student government meeting afterwards. And all of this with the worst sore throat I've ever experienced and tonsil's the size of walnuts. I'm just sick of being sick and falling behind in my work. And I'm also scared too because I've noticed a diminished amount of ambition or drive (professionally and academically speaking) from last year at this time. I can't figure out if it's just me being sick or maybe it's me finding the priorities in my life; my relationships with my friends have never been stronger.

So that's where I am right now, reclining on my favorite couch (the one that's been passed down from uncle to aunt to cousin to aunt to me four years ago. If this couch could talk...well, I don't think I'd like to listen to all it's stories). Looking forward to feeling better tomorrow.