last night was girls night. a few of us went out to the melting pot in westwood for monday night fondue. 28.95 per person and we got two kinds of cheese fondue, california salad, two kinds of chocolate fondue, and a drink. i had two, because, you know, it was a monday! mmm a glass of cold riesling and a coffee afterwards with baileys. so good. i left feeling a little drunk and well fed.

the roads were empty coming home and the winds were blowing like crazy. i blasted the heat in the car and opened the moon roof. it's nights like those when i enjoy driving alone. i showered before i went to bed because i remembered i had court early in the am.

i woke up this morning to snow flurries :( . drove to hackensack at 8am, got coffee and a whole wheat donut at 8:25am, met our lawyer at 8:30am (yay for no traffic on 17 &4!), was in the hackensack superior courtroom by 9am, had our case defaulted since the other guy didn't show by 9:30am, and was back to work in closter by 10:30am.

right now i'm taking a break from preparing/stuffing/sealing/labeling/posting over 300 invitations for our company's annual christmas party in january. i could never prepare mailings for a living, i would go crazy.

lately i've had this huge urge to learn how to knit. i want to make my own scarves and mittens! and wrist warmers! i need to find a sweet little old lady to teach me. both my grandmothers don't know how to knit, and my great-aunt only knows how to make designs on napkins and tablecloths. i forget what that is called.

tonight i'm off and having nothing planned. it feels kind of nice...

i initially started this thing as an assignment for one of my art classes at bergen. it's been severely neglected since i got an a. last night i was organizing all my digital photos into folders, and i realized that i can't remember what i did six months ago [socially]. i hate livejournal and xanga is soooo seven years ago. i figured i'd give this a try to see what happens, and how long until i forget about it again...

looking back

when i was in grade school, i had a teacher named mrs. morrow. she always told us to remember her name by remembering the word tomorrow. she wore her hair in a french twist the same way, everyday. she loved having us as students, and was always enthusiastic about our projects. she wore bracelets which were actually rolls of masking tape; apparently masking tape was worth more than gold in that classroom. i always remember doing fun projects, like making faces out of tennis balls, and paper mache sculptures. we once made an entire spaceship out of art materials, one so big that our whole class could fit inside.

when i was in middle school, i had a teacher named mr. benevento. he was more serious, and expected more out of us now that we had grown up a little. i remembered hating that class. all the assignments that we did, we did as a class. sure each thing was different, but it was so much the same. we learned to draw figures with our eyes closed, how to draw the perfect tea cup shading and all, we learned depth perception and collages.

in 1997 , freshman year of high school, i was relieved that there were no more required art classes. i was a bad at drawing, and couldn't paint to save my life. my pottery always cracked in the kiln and my ideas never turned out right. i decided to take a photography class. the teacher was an eccentric woman named ms. garnes. she had taught photo for years, and spent half her time living in france, and half her time living here.

there was something with her, that clicked with me. i fell in love with black and white photography. i didn't mind that my hands stunk like developer or stop. while everyone else in the class would rush through and hand in half assed assignments, i took my time. the next year i took color photo and into to digital. in 2001 i graduated, and later i heard that ms. garnes had retired. (forced? retired? who knows.) i never got to tell her how much of an impact she had left on me, so here it is now. maybe one day she'll find it online.

i only wish that i had time now to concentrate on photography. one day i would like to have my own little dark room in my basement. there is just something about rolling your own film, making test strips, getting the filters right. i'm so sad that film photography has become such a lost cause.

watching the creation of art

It’s not often that I get to watch people create art.

On Sunday I went to the NY Renaissance Faire. I brought my 9 year old sister and my best friend. The weather was kind of iffy, it looked like the rain clouds were going to destroy the afternoon. We went anyways and it turned out to be beautiful. If you’ve never been, the faire is excellent. Everyone is dressed up and they have games for children, shows, food & vendors.

I’ve been many times over the years, so I was surprised to see two artists/vendors that completely mesmerized me.

The first one was a man who was a candle maker. He was making decorative candles, that you could re-use over and over again. He was doing demonstrations and made it look so easy. When you lit the candles, the light would shine through the openings. Absolutely beautiful.

The next artist I watched was a glass-blower. It was amazing how she made vases and bowls with vibrant colors all out of powder and a blob of glass. I must’ve sat and watched her for half an hour.

Here was art being created right in front of me. My sister and friend got bored very quickly, but I wanted to stay and watch. I’m not very artistic, so maybe that is why I was entranced by it. Whenever you are in an art gallery, museum or shop, you never realize how much work goes into something, and how it is done. We always see the finished product. I was amazed.

When I was a little girl, I loved watching Mr. Rogers Neighborhood on the PBS channel. I always liked the segments where he would go into factories and see how things were being made. Now as I’m older, there is a program on the Food Network where they show you how different food and candy is produced. I could sit for hours and watch things like that.

tattoo as an art form

On Sunday, September 10, I was introduced to a new city. Boston. Normally when my friends want to go on road trips, they would always suggest Boston. I am so in love with New York City that I felt it wasn't right. Red Sox vs. Yankees, obnoxious accents, what was there for me to love in Boston?

Rewind to October 1, 2001. The day I turned 18. I went to a professional piercing studio to get a piercing. While I was waiting for my piercer to get things ready, I browsed the portfolios of the tattoo artists. It was all new to me, as the only people in my family who have tattoos are my grandfathers. They had gotten them when they were in the army and always hated them. Whenever I questioned the art on their bodies, they would grumble, complain, and tell us to never make the same mistakes they did. In that little piercing/tattoo shop in Greenville, North Carolina I fell in love with a new art.

I found out that a tattoo convention was going on in Boston, from September 8-10. I called my friend and we made a day trip.

I could not believe all the different people who were there. There were people ranging from 18 to 88 years old, all there for the same reasons. I walked around browsing in the artists' different portfolios. There were so many different styles. Some were old school (Sailor Jerry style stuff), some were nature oriented, and a few were portrait artists. They held contests for different tattoos & gave prizes. I was mesmerized by how beautiful everything was.

Obviously there were a few tattoos that I didn't like, but it was so nice to see people placing art on their bodies that will last forever. Many of the tattoos that were being done were hand drawn by the artists. I saw a few artists drawing directly on the bodies with marker, and then tattooing over that.

I also met a sideshow performer, who is transforming himself into a lizard. Not only is he using his transformation as performance art, he also does side show tricks.

As we were driving home, I sat in the car re-thinking our day. You have the artists, creating their art, and then you have the people who have the finished tattoos. It is like having a mobile gallery, across the country, all the time. Does that even make sense?

Earlier this year I missed the chance to go to the New York City Tattoo Convention, but I'll definitely be there for 2007.

i'd like to introduce you... to me!

entry one.

this is the first entry for my new blog. this was created as part of an assignment for my intro to art and visual culture class. it will be interesting to see what i can come up with to write about.