You are Here is the title of my cartography project. The drawing is assembled in a layered fashion, beginning with pencil and ink. I proceeded to explore color with oil pastels and, layering more pencil on top of that as well as charcoal. The process was satisfying to me. I was glad to see what I could come up with and the results of thought and constantly working more elements into the piece. After much thought, a critique, as well as lots of just looking, I can pick out a few successful areas I would like to further expand on in my future drawings. Something about the character and color of the numbers was an interest to me, it was an intuitive thing that I just can't get away from. I also, enjoy creating pockets of tension using line and color combinations.
The way You are Here was read during the critique is not exactly what I was going for, yet it brought new ideas to the table. The interest in certain visual elements was satisfactory to me. I really get into working textures into a surface, and I appreciate the recognition of that. The whole ancient looking treasure map appearance was inevitably noticed by the audience, which was something I especially was not attempting. Yet, with the literal rendering of a map with a red dot on a spot can not be ignored. I feel in the future, I wish to figure out how to send less of a literal message. The white monumental 'Earth' with it's connected square of a piece of ground gave the viewers a sense that it was in the foreground and more important, yet overlooked. This is exactly what I wanted, given my message of the importance of the basics in life and the need to escape untrue boundaries.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Mapping
My piece is what most are going to look at as a very literal map with other items involved. It is Nebraska, however lacking any word labels. I did choose, however to add numbers for visual appeal and technical interest. I have reached the point where I have to stop, stare at the piece for a day or two, and write down crucial elements that can be added, taken away or changed. It has been a slow process, involving the gradual layering on and erasing and sanding off. Critiqued by friends along the way, I have come to the conclusion that the more I add, the more interest it holds. It is definitely a piece of much detail.
Looking around the studio at pieces done by others is of more interest to me at this moment than looking at my own piece. I feel that the atmosphere of the studio lends greatly to sparking new ideation, but could also muffle one's own voice if overdone. It is satisfactory to hear about each individual's interpretation of the mapping process. I enjoy thinking about how many hundreds of millions of art pieces are developed and how none of them will ever be exactly the same, even a sketch in some kid's history notes has the potential to develop into beautiful work. But then there is the realization that I will never get a chance to see all of it, or even half. Actually, all of the art that anyone will see in their life time is probably a tiny percent of that which exists. Thus, I hope to reach my potential creating limit - try everything, sketch as much as possible, and write down all of my ideas.
Now I have come to the question of a name.
Dear Shakespeare,
What the heck is in a name?
Sincerely,
Katelin
After all, isn't it non-labeling and non-constraining the exact thing I am attempting to display here? Although, as I have learned from Worhol's Blow Job, a name can be extremely important.
Looking around the studio at pieces done by others is of more interest to me at this moment than looking at my own piece. I feel that the atmosphere of the studio lends greatly to sparking new ideation, but could also muffle one's own voice if overdone. It is satisfactory to hear about each individual's interpretation of the mapping process. I enjoy thinking about how many hundreds of millions of art pieces are developed and how none of them will ever be exactly the same, even a sketch in some kid's history notes has the potential to develop into beautiful work. But then there is the realization that I will never get a chance to see all of it, or even half. Actually, all of the art that anyone will see in their life time is probably a tiny percent of that which exists. Thus, I hope to reach my potential creating limit - try everything, sketch as much as possible, and write down all of my ideas.
Now I have come to the question of a name.
Dear Shakespeare,
What the heck is in a name?
Sincerely,
Katelin
After all, isn't it non-labeling and non-constraining the exact thing I am attempting to display here? Although, as I have learned from Worhol's Blow Job, a name can be extremely important.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Bits of Pieces
What is a shape on a piece of paper? It is exactly that. Why do we buy into these shapes? Why do we label? Why do we enclose? We are boxing ourselves up, we have boxed others up. As I ponder on this mapping theory, I travel throughout my pieces and pick out the bits. Bits of pleasure, bits of wonder, bits of texture, bits of anything. And then I realize...
all these bits are boxed within boundaries by the wondrous tool we call crop.
A squared off part of the whole gives us but one point of interest covering an entire surface, stealing away the excitement of the traveling eye and the miniature, sought out details of beauty.
An enclosing line is not the answer.
I have an interest in the theory of land ownership and use behind Native Americans, particularly the Ho-Chunk. A brief skim on their website already breaks the idea of the common map. ("An abstract view," 2008) states, "Ho Chunk occupied lands not only in Wisconsin, but in Iowa, South Dakota, Minnesota, Nebraska and Illinois."
OCCUPIED.
.
I'm ready to see the whole picture. I'm ready to search for those dandy details. I don't want a piece of paper to tell me where they are.
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