Making a Statement

How does one write an artist statement? I don't really know. In keeping with my new year's goals I have decided to be more proactive about getting my art out there and part of that is having a statement. So I did some online research, read a lot of other people's statements and talked to friends, but the whole thing made me feel like a bit of a fraud.Once again I feel like I'm coming up against the mental barrier I have about who real artists are and what they know. To me a real artist is someone like Perren. He went to school for it...studied art history and technique. He knows what different brushes are called and how to keep oil paints from destroying everything (mineral spirits!). I just know what colors I like and how if you add salt to cacti, it makes them look bumpy. I don't even really know what style category my paintings would be under...though my guess after lots of using the google is that I might be an abstract expressionist (?). Right, this whole process has been not only intimidating, but untrue to my art.

When I first moved to Japan, I met mindtraining. She was also from WI and though at one point we had actually at one point attended the same high school, we didn't meet until Tokyo. She ended up being stationed about an hour away from me in a slightly bigger town halfway to Osaka. I began to spend weekends at her sparsly furnished place. She had 1 futon, 2 Tibetan prayer mats, a lamp, a radio, a rice cooker and a lot of art supplies. So as she was making the rice and some amazing veggie curry, I would sit on the mat and just make stuff. It wasn't technical. I wasn't trying to imitate anyone else's style or to convey some deep and meaningful politcal message. I simply liked to make pretty pictures. It was cathartic. After spending the majority of my days teaching or just trying to figure out what the hell was going on between all the unspoken subtle nuances in Japanese society, it was peaceful and healing to simply sit and commune with myself.

That's all it ever was, just something fun and relaxing...the opportunity to make something beautiful. I started using canvas because I am notoriously hard on everything I own and my paper creations were getting ripped and falling apart. So how do I say that and still sound like a serious artist? Well this is what I have so far. Editorial feedback is welcome.



Bio:
The Afro-feminist Samurai grew up in Madison, Wisconsin. As soon as she was able to legally do so, she moved away. Her first stop was Seattle, which has become the home base for her many travels. Afro is an international educator and has spent several years abroad, living in Japan, Chile, and Spain. Her experiences abroad have been a catalyst for her work and are also reflected in her style, use of materials, and choice of subject matter. She is a self taught painter. She first began painting, not to sell or even for the purpose of sharing with others, but as a meditation. Her portfolio to date consists of a variety of themed works such as cityscapes, butterflies, self portraits, Day of the Dead scenes, and landscapes, done on canvas with acrylic and mixed media.


Artist Statement:
I paint because I love it. My paintings are vibrant abstract self portraits, done on canvas with multi-media. I first began painting and creating collages during the two years I spent living and teaching in Japan. It was a time when I was often frustrated by my inability to communicate. My art became both a refuge and a venue for self expression and at times I was able to use it as point of connection between me and my coworkers. I find creating art to be both healing, and deeply powerful.

Though I began by making greeting cards and multi-media paper collages, I have since transitioned into working on canvas because it is infinitely more durable. I especially enjoy playing with textures and using bright colors and glitter. My paintings are eye candy; fun and interesting, sometimes thought provoking, or sometimes simply beautiful. They are a reflection of who I am, how I feel, where I’ve been, and where I’m headed. My cityscapes and butterflies are just as much self-portraits as my afro sporting women.

Shows:
January 3, 2009. C.A.R.A. – Communities Against Rape and Abuse fundraiser. The Hidmo. Seattle, WA

November 7, 2008. Dia de los Muertos / Day of the Dead show. Phinney Center Gallery. Seattle, WA.

July 2, 2008. Wallingford First Wednesdays. Alliance Chiropractic. Seattle, WA.

A new year= A new theme

I'm kind of a sucker for resolutions. To me, birthdays and new years always bring with them a sense of well being, because in them there is a natural new beginning. Even though today is just like yesterday, the calendar says it's special. It's like getting a fortune cookie that says today is your free pass...forget your mistakes and start over. Perhaps that's why I have been frustrated. My new year went well enough, but I was too hung over to properly do any goal setting and by the time I recovered, I had slipped into a lethargic reflection time, no good for doing anything but wondering once more what they hell I'm supposed to be doing with my life.

Then the inauguration happened and I felt a sudden reprieve, because even though new year's day had come and gone, it was still a new day for my country. Like many others, I felt energized and inspired to go for something bigger...so that is what my theme is for the year...continued personal growth and the expansion of my opportunities.

This is no dress rehearsal, this is my life and I want to live it joyfully, always trying new things, and unafraid of failure. I want to belly dance and swing from a trapeze. I want to lose 30lbs before I test for my black belt. I want to be a better teacher, make more money and go abroad for my 30th b-day. I want to see something amazing and breathtaking like the grand canyon or the Taj Majal. I want to meet someone worth dating long term (and actually date him long term).This year I want to accomplish big things like finally finishing my novel and illustrating my children's book. I want to show my paintings in different venues. These are my goals, but my intention is simple. This year I intend to live in the light...to be my best self.

Tomorrow Morning

Though it's January and everything is supposed to be sparkly and new, mars is in retrograde...which for me means that I am traveling backwards in my mind, repeating the same patterns, traversing that familiar 18 inch path from head to heart and back through every decision I have made this year and through every event or moment that has made me. Who am I now, who have I been, who will I be? And what do I want? Today is the first MLK Day in years where instead of going to a march or participating in community service, I took some me time. Mz. Blu and I went out for pancakes then walked the longest possible route around greenlake laughing at the little dogs in costume and trying not to get run over by those crazy fitness moms running with strollers. It was a sunny day in Seattle, filled with that sense that everything is possible.

When I look back at 2008, this has proved to be true for me. I might just be living my version of the American dream. Despite the recession, I have a new job that I love, a new and improved living space, and several new and wonderful people gracing my life. I have been renewed in my faith and my spiritual practices and inspired to create beautiful works of art. And moreover, there is a new energy not just in my life or my immediate neighborhood, but in my country. Tomorrow, a change is gonna come...and not just in that far off distant ideal tomorrow that never seems to materialize, but actually on Jan 20...tomorrow, I get to be a witness, a participant in a moment in history that will change the face of this nation.

As I sit here, I know somewhere in AZ, my mom is racking her brain to think of what she will say tomorrow when she appears on the Today show to talk about the inauguration. I don't know if this will help you at all, but this is what I would say:

In general it is not easy to be an American. This is a strange nation built on the premise of freedom and the reality of oppression and exploitation. We are a nation of voluntary and involuntary multi-linguel, multi-ethnic, and multi-cultural immigrants who have spent the majority of our time at war with one another, if not officially and with weapon and legislation, then covertly with discrimination and subtle degrees of injustice. We are constantly struggling for the dream, for the ideal, to make this place called here and now into what America is supposed to be, a place of freedom, liberty, and peace and most of the time we fail miserably. Then we try and fail again.It is not easy, especially as a black American, to see the trail of dead bodies that litter our history and know that this country, my country, is founded, literally steeped in the blood of people who look like me. The systemic oppression, exploitation, and condemnation of people of color is nothing new or unknown, but we must remember it today and tomorrow especially because without acknowledging all that has come before today and tomorrow would not be as significant.

I feel that it is important to bring up our history because without it, tomorrow would just seem like another day, but it's not just another day. It is a day of deep symbolic importance, it is a day of proof, not only that change can and will come, but that after all this time America is ready to let us in. Please don't misunderstand, I am not under any delusions about the state of this nation. We still have so far left to go, racism still exist and there are still so many problems left to solve, but I finally feel like we are really on the journey, that my citizenship is real, not some false promise, not some intangible ideal. When Barack Obama becomes our president, not only do we say goodbye to 8 miserable years of Bush, but we welcome an era where people of color can actually be president. Words simply fail to express how momentous this occasion really is. I grew up with parents who always told me that I could be or do anything I wanted, but now that might actually be true. It seems like some boundary inside of me is breaking, it feels like anything is possible.That is what tomorrow means to me...

Post Secret

I never considered myself much of a voyeur, but I found myself sucked into the secrets. The whole post secret project fascinates me: part confessional, part art project, these anthologies are literally a collection of secrets anonymously sent in on homemade postcards from people all over. They are every kind of secret, some funny, some cute, some terribly sad, some mean or scary. They tell the story you always wanted to know. And reading through them, I can't help but look at every passing stranger and wonder about their secrets. Is that person a secret santa or a serial killer?

What makes a good secret? What are the things that people don't say and why? How many secrets do you accumulate in one day, in one year? How do they shape who you become. Audrey Lorde says: "Silence has never brought us anything of worth". Do you think that's true? Check out the secrets online at http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

A different Christmas

My unofficial staycation began with 3 snow days, one of which was a miraculous, unheard of snowless snow day. As a midwesterner born in IA and raised in WI, I am used to the idea that it has to snow so much that you can't open your door for school to close. Here apparently if someone even whispers that it might snow, no matter if it's only for 10 minutes, that is enough to get out of school. While I am kind of amazed, I am definitely not complaining. I despise snow, cold, and anything winter related and would prefer to stay at home whenever stuff like that happens. The only white Christmas that interests me is a musical involving Bing Crosby.

Needless to say it was not my Christmas wish to be besieged by snow. After a trip to the grocery store and the liquor store, Mz. Blu and I settled in the living room to do some painting, enjoy a bowl of mojitos and watch out the window disgustedly as our neighbors literally skied down the sidewalk or donned snow shoes to walk the few blocks to the grocery store. I mean come on...it was barely 4 inches. Somehow in the midst of all the insanity, I did manage to get off my unplowed street and to the airport. I spent a week in AZ with my mom and grandma.

My parents have been divorced since I was a baby, and my dad is not really big into holidays, so I have made a habit of being with my mom during Christmas. I spent most of my Christmas times in IA with my grandma, my mom, and my aunt. We would attend midnight mass at the church I was baptized in, then come home and stuff the turkey. This was a time to drink sherry and eat fudge, to hang out and tell stories. This is when I learned how to cook (which is good because it eventually became my job to make the family meals). I always kind of loved our traditions. On Christmas mornings we would do a gift exchange, then my uncle, aunt, and three cousins would come over for dinner. Some years they would go to my aunt's house leaving dinner a much smaller and intimate affair. Either way, the core members of my Christmas were always the women of my family. Shortly after I was born my mom, my godmother, and my grandmother put together an annual party that would take place after Christmas and before the new year. It was a multi-generational party where we would get together with our girlfriends and have a nice brunch with my godmother's famous homemade sticky buns and fruit slush, and my grandma's rum cake and applesauce cake.

I remember the few Christmases I did spend abroad (one clubbing and feeding elephants in Thailand, one eating Chinese food in Spain)even though I was definitely down for the adventure, I missed being home. I missed the familiar routine of friends and family. But I guess this too is a part of growing up, adapting to new circumstances. Traditions are only actions repeated over time, and breaking them doesn't necessarily mean losing the meaning of time spent with family.

Now that my mom is in AZ and my grandma spends her winters there, we don't have white Christmases or big family dinners. We attended midnight mass at my mom's church and had Wassle (spike cider with cranberry juice and angostina bitters). Instead of turkey, mom made a standing rib roast and instead of the annual, we hosted a brunch with some of my grandma's friends. It was smaller, but fun and evidence that there are more important things than doing everything the exact same way. It makes me wonder what it will be like when I have my own family. What traditions will form the foundation of my children's memories and what will it mean to them?

Spiritual Homework: 21 Days of no complaining

So here is the challenge: Go 21 days without complaining. If you do slip up, gently forgive yourself and begin again at day 1. Today is my 5th Day 1. I did make it to Day 2 earlier last week, but then I had a school in service on diversity.

SO here is what I learned: sometimes complaining is fun, also complaining is a huge part of the culture at my school. If you ask any of my co-workers, they would quickly tell you that they love their job, yet they gripe about it constantly. This has been difficult, because the more they complain, the more I remember all the things there are to complain about. What helps? Being happy. If I am in a good mood, even when irritating things happen I seem to navigate better. Also, I've amended the no complaining to no complaining out loud. I am trying to do better inside my head as well, but that is a lot of mind training and I'm not quite there yet. Living in the bitch free zone is a lot like going through sugar detox, painful, and a brutal eye opener to an addiction I never knew I had.

Why am I doing this? To see if I can....to see if it changes the quality of my life. Everyone says they want to be happy, but I'm beginning to think that's not entirely true. It's easy to be happy when nothing is bugging you, when you don't have to do lice checks, or lots of data entry...but what if you could find a way to make even the most tedious or irritating parts of your day fun or at least less painful. What if, you replaced the complaint with a compliment or a suggestion, or even just a thank you to the universe for something good that happened? I don't know, maybe everything would be the same...but I'd like to find out. Yes, I know this is a far departure from my normal comfortable role as sarcastic observer, but the definition of insanity if doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I'm ready for my different results.

K & B: The Wedding

Here is a little known fact about me: I kind of love weddings. Okay, I really love weddings.There is always cake and dancing and good people watching and if you're lucky there might even be an open bar. Last weekend, right before I moved, I flew to Palm Springs for the wedding of my friend K. K and I went to grad school together. I am always a little surprised that people who knew me during grad school actually want to talk to me (I was a bit of a dragon), but none the less we were always cool and I learned a lot from K about leadership and staying positive in the face of irritation.

So I took Friday off and flew into the sun. I love Seattle. It is my home and I live here on purpose, but it was so lush to see the sun again and be able to go outside without protective rain gear. K picked me up from the airport where I was whisked to the nearest pharmacy to replace the Robitussin TSA would have confiscated, then we had lunch and mimosas and got full mani and pedicures while I met a whole lot of K's cousins, and sisters. K has a big family and I had never met any of them, so it was really cool to see where she comes from. Everyone was really nice and politely ignored the fact that I spewing out phlem wads of death. Then Cookie showed up, another fabulous friend from grad school. Turned out, she was just recovering from pneumonia, so we shared a room and coughed together.

Friday evening we had burgers with the bride, which I guess is become a family tradition as K's dad owns an international chain of burger joints. The next day Cookie and I lounged by the pool eating cough drops and clearing our sinuses while we caught up with another grad school buddy and her friend. The wedding was in the afternoon and held in a Catholic church where K's uncle is a priest. There were tons of people in and out of the wedding. K had like 8 bridesmaids who all wore navy blue silk that actually looked good on all of them, plus there were flower girls and ring bearers and as K's folks are divorced, so they walked in seperately. Side note: K's mom's gown was a TO DIE FOR gorgeous gold beaded work of art! I digress K was stunningly beautiful in the traditional princess white, with her hair upswept in curls, and her guns totally tight from pre-bridal bootcamp.

As she walked towards her B,and half the women in the audience broke out the kleenex, I couldn't help glancing up at her parents and thinking not all happy endings look the same. 27 years later, neither of my parents have their fairy tale ending. And yet we all keep trying. K & B looked so happy that I couldn't help but believe that forever can be a kept promise, a true adventure in love and partnership. Sometime I get stick on the idea of forever. I mean, how can I envision my forever with someone, when I've never actually seen a long term functional relationship in my own immediate family? Having had this entire lifetime to get to know know my parents, I am actually kind of confused as to how they got together in the first place. I am long since over the childhood days of wishing that they would be together so we could be a TV family. No, for divorced people,my parents have a highly functional relationship in which raising me took precedence over any issues they might have with each other.But I do wish they had gotten their second chances. And as I watched K & B take their vows I wondered if I'll even get my even a first chance at the whole permanent love thing. I didn't wonder too long though, there was cake and champagne to be had.

After a quick stop to down more medicine, the grad school crew and I took a shuttle to reception which was something out of a movie, valet parking, red carpet, hordourves circulating on silver trays, and 2 fabulous and fully stocked open bars. After a multi-course sit down candle lit meal (for 250 people...served on gorgeous dishes ringed with fresh orchid blooms)beginning with lobster bisque and ending in a plate of wedding cake, raspberry creme brule, and sorbet, the party really began. The reception was set at an indoor outdoor venue dotted with palm trees and wrapped around a lagoon that shimmered in the night. There was a bonfire with a s'mores making station, a hot chocolate bar, a fabulous band, and a photo booth....photo booth and an open bar, what an excellent combination!It was a great night. I caught the bouquet and as K had 3 professional camera crews filming, I am sure it is on Utube somewhere. K & B, thanks for letting me share in your moment. It was a beautiful wedding and good reminder that my hope doesn't have to be contained in politics.