Perfectly Disheveled

I don't love everything I make. There are pieces I complete and hide in a drawer because something about them just doesn't satisfy me. 

I recently sat down with Muriel Guepin, curator of Shop Art Gallery, to select work for a show I'm in opening this Saturday. Before meeting her, I went through my "archives," and found the piece above, "Perfectly Disheveled." I made it in the summer of 2007. It is a true story, and while the text is kind of sweet, I was never happy with the drawing. I had sketched him out on paper first, and he was so much more dynamic before I stitched him. What I got right were his proportions, his lankiness, and the way he looked hidden inside his clothes.

Please, if you're in the New York area, join me for the opening of Visual Vernacular this coming Saturday, October 3, 6-9pm at Shop Art Gallery: 51 Bergen Street near Smith. F/G train to Bergen is the closest form of public transport. This piece is just one of more than 20 that will be exhibited.

He practically made me sign a contract

Two new "post-its":

"He practically made me sign a contract before we had sex. He wanted to make sure I wouldn't flip out if I saw him with another woman."

"I'm mourning the relationship we never had, and thinking of the ways I would have loved you."

"I think I'm here to stay," he says.

"You camped out in my head for months. You'd start to leave, and something would tug you in."

'It looks like I'm here to stay.'

"Even now, I find myself talking to you on good and bad days as if you are standing beside me."

For that person you just can't get out of your head. Mine is like an imaginary companion, filling in the gaps where the concrete relationship left off.

But your emotional thermostat was set to an ex girlfriend

"You wanted to reserve space inside my body. I wanted to crawl into a warm space I thought we shared. But your emotional thermostat was set to an ex girlfriend."

Yesterday, I rushed home after work to see Muriel, the gallerist at Shop Art. We met to select work for a group show opening October 3rd. As always, upon leaving, I was all worked up. Ideas were flowing, and I ended staying up late thinking, rearranging my pieces within my portfolio, and stitching. I had started the piece above months ago, and was finally able to finish it last night.

I will post details about the opening very soon. I can't wait!

I thought this might be the start of our artistic commingling...

"Thursday night one month later, he strode into the bar with a manila envelope. Inside was my sketch. I thought this might be the start of our artistic commingling..."

Here is the sequel to "He disappeared into a whiskey night."

Thanks to Phil for his sketch. (By the way, this is the print of the sketch, not the actual sketch.)

This piece is important to me because it allowed me to embellish on an actual event without being as confessional and personal as some of my other pieces. I consider it a bit more playful. It is very difficult emotionally to share the level of detail I have displayed through my work. The process of recording and recreating sensitive, intimate events has been cathartic, but has also embroiled me in the originating emotional experience.

When I began "Were I So Besotted," I imagined creating a caricature of myself, where I would embellish actual events. I am still surprised by how open the work became. I think the "truth," or my truth, is simply more compelling and relatable than any stories I could create.

In this piece here, I created a version of myself that does not quite look like me. I feel a sense of freedom in having done that.

He returned with my sketch...

In a previous post, I talked about meeting animator and artist Phil Lockerby at my favorite local bar, Sample. I have become a fan of his work. To see his sketches, just click on his name above.

Thursday night, I was sitting at the bar once again with my good friend Clare when Phil strode in with some friends and a small, manila envelope containing the piece above.

Actually, the piece shown is a print from his actual sketch. I finally have the sketch! I love the softness of this print, and am planning to embroider over it, mingling his perception of what I look like with my own image of myself.

Seeing old friends can feel a bit like dating

Yesterday, I sat at my desk all day too excited to focus on designing. I was looking forward to a mini-reunion with my very best girl friends from summer sleep-away camp. The last time I had seen one of my friends was literally 20 years ago, so this meeting seemed freighted with meaning. 

Aside from the fact that one friend is 40 weeks pregnant, both friends were instantly recognizable. We all agreed that our basic personalities had not changed much, either, leading us to wonder if we really are essentially formed by the time we reach our pre-teens.

So why was I so nervous about this dinner? The same sorts of thoughts that run through my mind when I am about to go on a date accosted me yesterday afternoon: What if there's nothing to talk about? What if we no longer have anything in common? What if we just don't get along?

Having done a lot of internet dating, I became used to the experience of excitement tinged with relief and disappointment. I essentially went on numerous blind dates that I myself set up. 

Yesterday evening was absolutely wonderful. I was reunited with friends I love and share wonderful memories with. This was absolutely nothing like a blind/internet date. This was a reunion of the best sort.

I tend to think that eventually I will have this feeling with a man. It may not happen the day we meet or for several months, but eventually I think he will feel like someone I've always known and will always want in my life.

L'chaim!

P.S. The piece above is in the collection of Karey Mackin.