Night at the Gallery

I'm thoroughly exhausted after the brother's wonderful wedding weekend. Full recap to come...eventually. In the interim I have a few [long] posts in draft I forgot about.

Two weeks ago, I took Shana with me to the Cocoran Art Gallery for a flash fiction workshop. This was my first experience with flash fiction and first experience since college writing about art.

The workshop was led by a writer who works at the Corcoran, who previously worked at MOMA in New York, and has published works. There were fewer than 10 of us in attendance, which made for a comfortable and open setting. The workshop was based around a current exhibit, Shooting Stars: Publicity Stills from Early Hollywood and Portraits by Andy Warhol. Here is a portion of the description from the website:

Shooting Stars features promotional photographs of early Hollywood film stars alongside Polaroid portraits and black-and-white images by Andy Warhol. Made half a century apart, these two bodies of work illustrate some of the ways photographers have contributed to our understanding of celebrity and fame.

The purpose of the workshop was to view the exhibit and then write about a work in the voice of a celebrity. It could be from the voice of the celebrity in the photo, the voice of a celebrity viewing one of the photos, or really anything. We read same sample works, either written about a celebrity, in the voice of one, or dedicated to one, and then took an hour to view the works and write. Then we re-convened to read our pieces aloud.

It was so surreal and also serene to have the gallery almost to ourselves. (There was one other group touring it.) We got to sit (but not lean against the wall, as I learned) and just write, surrounded by all this art.

I didn't expect it to go so well, to be so inspired by the portraits. I shouldn't have been surprised because I do admire and appreciate art, especially portraiture, but I'm a very slow and meticulous writer and can't usually think and execute so quickly. There were actually several photos that inspired me and had me creating stories in my head.

The one that grabbed me the most was one of the early publicity stills. The subject was a Richard Barthelmess, circa 1927. I had never heard of him, but just now looked him up and he was a silent film star. This is the exhibit photo:

 
He reminded me so much of George Clooney that I decided to write in the voice of George Clooney viewing the portrait. And this is what I wrote:

Look at him. Look at me. Same eyebrows, same hair -- or same hair 20 years ago -- same eyes. He's a dashing guy. He's a good looking son of a bitch. Thank, god. That's all that matters here, right?

He has the right look, the right car, the right address. Maybe he even has the right pedigree, not too focused on either collar, blue or white. He did his time in the chorus line, so to speak, before jumping in to the lead role. He probably even has a shiny award or two, or at least he's been nominated. It is, of course, just an honor to be nominated.

But let's get to the good stuff. He's got the girl. He always has the girl. Or a string of girls. Women, actually. He's not Errol Flynn. No one should ever be Errol Flynn. So what if he rotates them every 2 years. Doesn't mean he's gay or asexual. It means he's bored or choosey or a dedicated bachelor. It's a thing. People magazine said so.

He doesn't have a stint in rehab, but give him time; his next film will be a flop.

But let's go back to his look. that perfectly tailored coat with its artfully popped collar.

The cigarette, so close to slipping out of his fingers, but so clearly a vital part of who he is, before the surgeon general has a say.

I could do without the pinky ring, but to each his own.

But that stare, wow. What is he looking at? Do I look like that? Could I look like that?

I want to know what he's thinking. I think I know.

He wants them to stop talking about his love life. To stop referring to his looks in the past tense. He wants to write and direct more. He wants to be asked in interviews about writing and directing instead of why he isn't married.

I think he wants a drink, a large drink to fill his brain with fuzzy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Because they aren't always there. He isn't always happy. Money, fame, awards, isn't always enough. He wants a break, a drink. He doesn't know what he wants.



Image source

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 8

While I'm "crafty like ice is cold" -- thanks Beastie Boys -- I'm artistic like ice is dry. So finding some "artwork" in my room was funny.

This is a portion of a cut-out "B" from elementary school decorated with things that describe me. This was my favorite section, of course. And while I now know that "Tar Heels" is two words, I'm still not very good at drawing them.

I took an online course my senior year of high school called "Photography as Visual History." We studied the history of photography and different photographers, and it was actually really interesting. Unfortunately, there was also an artistic element to it, and not even photography, but more fine art. For this assignment we had to collage a theme and I chose friendship.

We were supposed to incorporate symbolism, repetition, texture, etc. To me it looks like exactly that: an assignment with all the boxes checked off. I've never understood how anyone can take an artistic class for a grade.

While writing this, I remembered another piece of "art" from this class that I still have.

We had to take a photo -- in this case an artistic rendering of Romeo and Juliet from a teen magazine -- and make a black and white copy and layer the two somehow. It's been 10 years but I still kind of like it.

Happy Chic

On Tuesday night, I attended a lecture at the Corcoran Gallery of Art given by potter and designer Jonathan Adler. I've admired his work for several years and was excited to learn more about his creative process and inspiration.

He was unpretentious and unabashedly passionate about his work and his great life. (Which he attributes to "luck, luck, luck, luck, luck, and patience.") He had such great humor and joy that I didn't mind that he sometimes spoke like an Internet-obsessed teenage girl. (Words like cas, biz, pics, internets, hi-larious, preggers, and breaky instead of breakfast. Yes, I took notes.)

 
He talked about his love of pottery, how he started, interior design, his business, and more. He also showed photos of some of his work and talked about the pieces and interiors. Here are a few of my favorite things from the lecture and Q&A session:

On criticism:
I try to tune out outside noise and follow my heart. 

On his business:
I say yes to everything.

On design:
Good design -- and what I strive for -- is something that is uncovered rather than created.

In design and decorating the most important things are comfort and joy. 

On his style:
Eccentricity is fantastic and glamour always.

On his pottery:
The idea was to make them look perfect.

On needlepoint:
I have an obsession with waspy, country club style from the sixties.

 
On his husband, Simon Doonan:
He's a genius and just the best person who ever lived. 

On why he turned his formal living room into a room with a ping pong table:
There's no TV, what is anyone going to do in it? 

I tend to have pre-conceived notions about certain creatives, especially artists and interior designers. I loved that he wanted his pottery to look like it's machine-made, because he wanted them to look perfect. And that he doesn't think interiors should be stuffy or formal. (That's pretty obvious when you look at his work, but it was still nice to hear.)

Someone in the audience asked if he found his business expansion to be limiting to his creative process and he said if anything his success has inspired him to create more. (He also has a president who handles the actual business of the business, so I'm sure that helps, but is also nice that he's not good at everything.) I liked that no matter what, he's still so committed to his art and the creation of "aggressively eccentric" and glamorous design.

"There is beauty in the everyday. And when people learn to look for it, they'll find inspiration in the least likely places." (Cade Martin)

I'm in love with this photo, taken by Cade Martin:

The ballerinas look so elegant and graceful; the man following like a footman right out of Cinderella. And the Carolina blue punchbug and umbrella are quite nice, too. But mostly I like the contrast between their art and the art of the business conducted in the Capitol behind them. And, of course, placing them in the ubiquitous crosswalk just reminds me of my most favorite crosswalk picture: