Opening reception this Thursday, July 23, 5-7 pm. Look for me there.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
This beautiful print by illustrator Julia Pott is being offered as a prize to the best first crush story. Go to Doodlers Anonymous to enter your story for a chance at winning. Here's the story of my first crush:
It was the first grade. One boy with Luke Skywalker hair made me a little prickly with heat and for that I didn't like him. I was just too little to understand the concept of "crush" and was afraid I'd somehow betray and shame myself. So I ignored him. One day I saw him in the cafeteria eating a sandwich he brought from home and to my horror, I saw that he had peeled off the crusts to eat around them, which is what I always did. When he noticed that I did the same he gave me an adorable grin, but I quickly turned away in embarrassment. I think that hurt his feelings. I wish I could go back to that moment so I could return his smile that day in the cafeteria, at least to acknowledge our solidarity in eating crustless sandwiches.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
I have had absolutely no time to blog lately and should be working right now, but I thought to take a break and check in with some blogs that I follow. I had about a week or two's worth of browsing to catch up on.
One art blog that I highly respect had a week-old post saying that their blog was "proudly Michael Jackson-free: no news, no gossip, no pics, "no interest." My first reaction was "YESSS!" Mainstream media has surely milked this passing while very urgent issues lie like fallen trees in the road (you can't just drive over them).
However...my next reaction to this blog post was, "well, wait a sec..." I sheepishly admit that I've been swept up with fascination over the last week of MJ mania. At first I wasn't quite sure why since I was never a true fan of Michael Jackson - he kind of lost me when the video for "Thriller" came out since I was seven-years-old at the time and afraid of everything. So by no means did I run home to watch live coverage of his memorial tribute. But the act of remembering the guy has brought on a wave so strong of childhood nostalgia that I, like so many others I'm sure, haven't felt a long time. (And, on a personal level, this nostalgia has flooded me with childhood memories of my father, who also died an untimely death that could have been prevented. I mostly feel for the children left behind.)
But the reason I partially take back my emphatic agreement with the art blog's Michael Jackson-free post is because I commute to work through Harlem's 125th Street, passing the Apollo Theater. The feeling of communal mourning and celebration is hard to miss - I can't help but be swept up by the old hits emanating from boom boxes and the spontaneous dance-offs on the sidewalk. I was at first disturbed by the instant capilalization of the spectacle of death, with T-shirts and CD's being sold at every turn of the head, but hey - it's a living.
It's the fact that in their own way, so many people are reacting at once, and I find this is what affects me. And I'm not talking about Mary f*cking Hart feigning mourning on Entertainment Tonight; I'm talking about everyday people that I see in this city - total strangers meeting on the street to celebrate a life, which to me celebrates life in general. I suppose that's also the power of pop culture.
Still, with all this bombardment in the "news", it really is very nice to have a Michael Jackson-free zone.