Wednesday, December 21

Poetry with rowan leaves


Rowan leaves with hole by Andy Goldsworthy

I learn a lot just by looking at pictures of Andy Goldsworthy's sculptures. I'm not just talking about the technical side of making 3D art, but also about myself and my attitude as an artist.


The experts categorize his work as ephemeral and land art. He is even sometimes considered as a photographer because none of his original works survive and he only has photographs to exhibit. His sculptures consist of natural materials—from dead leaves, slabs of stones, snow and ice, and thorns—without the benefit of glue or nails to hold them together. Goldsworthy assembles them in their natural habitat and leaves them there, at the mercy of nature, to be withered away by the wind, sun, and rain. As with most ephemeral art, he speaks about the fragility of life and of time. He also draws attention to the place itself where it all 'happens.' Most people, however, overlook his extraordinary sense of play. He does display his sense of humor, his sense of irony, and demonstrates his belief in his creative process. I've seen videos of him working and, boy, that man has patience! One misplaced pebble and his work crumbles, and he shrugs it off and starts all over again. And he doesn't even have to take the finished product home to enjoy it.


Like I said, I learn a lot just by looking at his stuff. I admire his vision, his calm endurance, and tenacity to stay with his work. He's a visual poet. Like most young artists (I am not referring to age here but of experience. I don't like the word 'amateur'), I struggle with the idea that it's okay not to have a masterpiece at the end of a working day. Especially now when most people expect me to snap my fingers and have 10 sculptures to exhibit. It's all about experimenting, of going with it, and, most of all, playing. I succumb to pressure sometimes and get really uptight and just focus on the final outcome. I kill my child even before it is born. I forget to just listen to the work, to gently coax it to come out and not prematurely drag it out spitting, screaming and crying into my outside world. Patience is indeed a virtue. And so is kindness. Particularly when it's with dealing with yourself.

*Note: Not all of Goldsworthy's recent sculptures are short-lived. His 'semi-permanent' works are scattered all over England. That's good to know because that means I still have a chance of seeing one of his works up close.

Monday, December 19

Don’t Let the Bastards Get You Down

I’ve had my share of disappointments the past couple of months. Now that we are about to discard another year, I can’t help but think about them. Especially on a windy, moonlit night. There’s just something about standing in moon pools that make me think about things that cannot be broached in broad daylight. The moonbeam sifts through my head like a black light in a club, which intensifies the whiteness of garments and picks up the tiniest spec of lint on a black shirt. Or maybe it’s all that holiday cheer. Sometimes I don’t agree that this is really the season to be jolly.

We all go through crappy times; mine are no worse or unbearable than the next guy’s. They’re just mine that’s why they appear to be more tragic. They vary from really silly things (e.g. not finding the right size of the shirt you’ve been dying to buy) to life changing events (not getting into the program you’ve been preparing for practically your whole adult life). I know, it could be worse. And that has happened to me as well. But the world doesn’t stop and you go on living your life, like in all those lines people toss at us when we feel stuck. Yeah, I get all that, but it doesn’t change the fact that it sucks.

Joseph Campbell said, "Where you stumble, there your treasure lies." Like I said, I get it. Every loss must always be viewed as a potential gain. When hit by a disappointment, I get angry, I throw a tantrum, I get angry some more, I buy myself chocolate (or something cute and shiny), I talk to the dogs (or the white cat who sleeps all day on the wall in the garden), I blow off more steam, and then when I’m lucid enough, I start doing the autopsy. Through the mess and the gore, I usually end up seeing what went wrong. There are times though when I get too close and I can’t make heads or tails of it. When that happens I just cremate the body (write the shit down on paper and burn it) then declare the case closed. You have to move on to the next thing. I think of it this way—it would be harder for the bastards to flatten me if I’m a moving target.

It’s not as easy as it sounds. Especially for me. I have this habit of dragging things out and carrying dead things in my pockets. I love drama. And on dark nights, I entertain the ghosts of the stuff I thought were long buried or burnt. I guess that’s normal. It takes time to grieve. And some things just love to hang out with you even though you don’t want them to. That’s okay, too, as long as they don’t take too much of your space. You can learn from them but don’t let them boss you around.

So before 2006 arrives, I want to pay my respects to the dead so that I can start the new year with a fresh and healthy heart. Get rid of the old that keeps clogging my system and cramping my style, and make space for the new. I should cook up a big and glorious ritual for them. Maybe with a lot of candles, pretty pictures, fresh flowers, and Shakespeare. They always like that sort of thing. I just have to remember to keep my peace and—under no circumstances—not to get blindsided or sweet-talked into letting the bastards take me down.

Sunday, December 18

Wish List for 2006


Hidetoshi Nakata

I want him for the new year. Well... maybe meet him or see him play in England, Japan, or Germany. :) His name is Hidetoshi Nakata, an attacking Midfielder currently playing for the Bolton Wanderers. He is such a hottie. He's also unknowingly helping me compile a Wish/Goal list for 2006:

1) Go to Germany this summer for the World Cup. I want to see him and the rest of the gorgeous players. And witness great football, of course! I will post my fearless predictions soon.

2) Learn German. I've been wanting to do this anyway for a long time (for a number of reasons other than just to see cute guys and matches) so I think I will sign up for a class soon. I already made the first step and called Goethe Institut last week!

3) Brush up on my Japanese (I don't want the Alex Corretja incident to happen to me again!). It should be easy to remember, though. I can still write in Hiragana and Katakana. Problem is, I don't know what the hell I'm saying! Useless.

4) Go to Japan and live there for a while (doesn't have to happen next year though). Fascinating people. Great Art, both traditional and contemporary. My favorite food (tied with Mexican).

5) Go to England and live there for a while (maybe next year). I miss gloomy weather. I know, don't ask me why. I want to search for stones as well.

Wednesday, December 7

Of Rice and (Chow) Mein*

I went to the supermarket last week to get a box of cereals. I was eyeing the Fruit Loops (haven’t had them in ages) when the sales clerk manning the aisle popped beside me and cheerfully gave me her recommendations. She pointed at a box adorned with big, bold letters (FAT FREE) and said, “Ma’am, this is really good for losing weight.” Whuu..? And before I could react she pointed her snout to another and muttered, “This is sugar free and low in calories but it tastes like real chocolate. It’s also good for losing weight.” I wanted to help her lose a few pounds by whacking off her arm and prevent her from ever giving unsolicited advice, but I took a deep breath instead and cleared my head. I have no energy for this. So I gave her a not so Care Bear stare and walked away with a box of Frosties.

I should be used this, but I am not. I have heard countless strangers and relatives make insidious comments about my looks since I got back here. The sales lady at my favorite Camper store welcomed me with, “Ma’am, tumaba kayo sa Spain no” (Ma’am, you gained weight in Spain, right). Yeah, call me the walking Pata Negra. A well meaning but ever so tactless cousin recently remarked, “Wow, you really gained a lot of weight… and with Christmas just around the corner… What will you do?” Ah, dress up like Santa Claus at the Christmas party? You are definitely not getting a present this year. “I really like your hair… but what happened to your skin?” I get hives from talking to people like you, thank you very much.

It boggles me why people think that this is normal and acceptable social behavior in a civilized culture. Why do they feel the need to size you up then give you your grade in the attractiveness scale for the day? I give you ten points for your hairstyle, but minus 2 for your choice of accessories. Is this suppose to break the ice before you start talking about real things? Why can’t we just stick to the weather?

The thing that annoys me most though is people’s obsession with weight. I am five feet tall (okay… four-eleven and three fourths! About 152 cm) and weigh 105 lbs. (roughly around 47 kilos). I’m no waif but I am well within the limits of what health officials would consider normal. I was born to be round and I like it. Twelve years ago I wore braces and couldn’t eat. My weight dropped to 88-90 lbs. and I ended up looking like a 12 year-old boy. Never again.

People have been encouraging me to try the South Beach diet so I would look trimmer like the stick-thin younglings slinking around the malls. Plus, everyone is on it anyway so why not do it too. Right. Give up rice, noodles, and bread so that I could look and be like everyone else? It might be easier to just enter a Mattel factory and ask to be converted into a generic Barbie doll. What happened to following a well-balanced diet? What happened to having a personality?

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against people going on diets. I’m all for healthy eating and exercising at least three times a week, I just don’t believe in depriving myself of the little joys in life just to be more socially acceptable. Believe me, life is too short to worry if I look cool and svelte enough to be allowed outside the house. I am more concerned about the amount of fat I have socializing with the red cells in my veins than the adjudged offensive flesh clinging to me. I try to stay away from processed food, I eat brown or red rice instead of white when I can, I take brown sugar with my coffee, and get my daily helpings of vegetables and fruits. And loads of water. I will not, however, part with my occasional black Meiji chocolate, silvanas, Reese’s pieces, and cookie dough ice-cream. I will try to be healthy but I don’t want to be on my deathbed (or in a flaming 747) years from now with one thought in my head: I don’t know what a blueberry waffle with maple syrup and peanut butter tastes like anymore. I want to leave this world fulfilled and full.

Oh, and I want to be me when I go. Just the way I am, even if I end up being a social pariah. I got ambushed again at the supermarket yesterday morning. This time I was in a better mood. As soon as the hello-you’re-so-fat-stay-away-from-carbs greeting came out of an acquaintance’s mouth I quickly suggested that he keep his passive-aggressive statements to himself. Of course, I was instantly labeled as overly sensitive and defensive. He was not out to get me, he claimed, he was just pointing out the obvious. So I said goodbye to him by saying, “Your face is still crooked no matter how much you re-arrange your hair.” Hey, I’m just following protocol. I wasn’t out to get him, I was just stating a cold, hard fact.


*My apologies to Steinbeck. Like his characters I feel like an "outsider" (a Filipina with culture amnesia) struggling to understand my own unique place in this insane world.

Friday, December 2

Working


At work



I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. Real life gets in the way of blogging. At the end of the day, I still prefer getting clay under my nails than use my QWERTY keyboard.

Hmmm… 1 week, 1 day, 16 hours, 19 minutes and 38 seconds since quitting. I am proud of myself.







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All images and content, unless otherwise noted, belong to and are the property of Stephanie Palallos. I’m just an artist doing my best to create. Please don’t steal my work! :)