http://hyperallergic.com/249190/an-archive-of-10000-cylinder-recordings-readied-for-the-spotify-era/
University of California, Berkeley, launches new website featuring their archive of over 10,000 cylinder recordings. Cylinder recordings were used before the invention of vinyl records, tapes, cds, etc. I think this article can start a conversation in relation to the craftsman: how we make things to archive sound. Digital recordings in comparison to vinyl, cylinders, tapes. People have been reinventing ways to store information (the spotify era), but what is lost? Also, this is a good example of archiving and preserving old ways of doing things. Cool stuff. Here's a link to the actual website:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/index.php
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Monday, November 9, 2015
Ted Talk | Why We Make
Here is that great TED talk about the intent behind our work and getting to the 'why' we do or make something rather than just the 'what.'
https://www.ted.com/talks/simon_sinek_how_great_leaders_inspire_action?language=en
https://www.ted.com/talks/simon_sinek_how_great_leaders_inspire_action?language=en
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Friday, November 6, 2015
Tea-go Trip. Process statement. Documentation. Reflection.
Process
How wonderful it would be, thought I, to have tea with strangers at bus stops and stuff. I haven't made it to a bus stop yet, but I distributed many little cups of tea to people through this project in various situations.
My aim was to make 100 tea cups. I did it all in one weekend, hitting about 85 cups. I built them all in a kind of industrial wabi-sabi kinda way. I spent 25 hours pinching clay in 3 days, getting myself sick in the process. It would be no surprise if my project-induced sickness was the first domino to fall in this last months epidemic.
All the cups were relatively small but varied in size. They have a lava rock type of glaze on them which, combined with their organic shape, makes them very tactile and intimate objects.
I gave cups to some people so they could become part of their daily matters. One person wrote, "This cup said gotchu and caught a scalding drop in its rough bottom skin. Yet it cradled my lips ergonomically with its ultimately smooth upper skin. Its scale exactly fit my rounded palm, radiating comfortable life-like warmth, and my nose to mouth distance, reminding me of its I-gotchu-ness by tapping me on the nose as I sipped my last sips. Its shape was stout, reassuring, steady, and strong. Quality over quantity, it said, what you do, do well."
Another set of cups stayed in my home and was used in various situations; conversations over tea, breakfast outside, an excuse to hang out longer, and tea parties around a bon fire to name a few. The cups were actively fused with daily life.
A third group was used in UF's pop-up culture event. I set up a table with two other ceramicists, Bridget Fairbanks and Eddie Dominguez, and we served people tea in my cups using Bridget's pitchers.
After these teacups were used in these situations, I fired s¥mbols onto them. The symbols are words with all the letters stacked on top of each other. Over time, they will build up on the cups and become as much a part of the piece as the stamps on asian scroll paintings.
Critique was just as much a part of this process. It was a performance to add to the list of where the teacups have interacted and a chance to learn about social interaction with tea as the hook to make a certain type of intimate experience happen.
Reflection
I began this project with zen intentions, but found myself to be like a mad hatter who's trying to figure out how being peaceful works. I was inspired by the tea ceremony and all its life reverie. Why not revere the simplicity of life all the time? This escalated into just another complexity in the seriocomic drama of life. A spiritual tea-go.
I learned a little bit about being social. I learned a little bit about how people interact with these little intimate forms. I learned a little more about my own ridiculous tendencies. But it all felt somehow forced... nothing was real to me. Stuff happened. Life happened. I'm uninterested though. I have expectations as to how things should be, how I want them. I habitually see myself as separate from the world, a Thing with expectations, even the expectation of nonexpectation. Oh circular thought, my love for you will be my own doom.
I find it interesting how far removed from original intentions things can become, especially when it comes to the pursuit of Truth. The more we try to understand it or experience it, the more it baffles us and the more separate we become from it. It has turned into an idea we have to fit ourselves and our experience into.
This was the essence of what happened in my final performance, a maniacal and uncomfortable presence of what not to do in the pursuit of Truth.
How wonderful it would be, thought I, to have tea with strangers at bus stops and stuff. I haven't made it to a bus stop yet, but I distributed many little cups of tea to people through this project in various situations.
My aim was to make 100 tea cups. I did it all in one weekend, hitting about 85 cups. I built them all in a kind of industrial wabi-sabi kinda way. I spent 25 hours pinching clay in 3 days, getting myself sick in the process. It would be no surprise if my project-induced sickness was the first domino to fall in this last months epidemic.
All the cups were relatively small but varied in size. They have a lava rock type of glaze on them which, combined with their organic shape, makes them very tactile and intimate objects.
I gave cups to some people so they could become part of their daily matters. One person wrote, "This cup said gotchu and caught a scalding drop in its rough bottom skin. Yet it cradled my lips ergonomically with its ultimately smooth upper skin. Its scale exactly fit my rounded palm, radiating comfortable life-like warmth, and my nose to mouth distance, reminding me of its I-gotchu-ness by tapping me on the nose as I sipped my last sips. Its shape was stout, reassuring, steady, and strong. Quality over quantity, it said, what you do, do well."
Another set of cups stayed in my home and was used in various situations; conversations over tea, breakfast outside, an excuse to hang out longer, and tea parties around a bon fire to name a few. The cups were actively fused with daily life.
A third group was used in UF's pop-up culture event. I set up a table with two other ceramicists, Bridget Fairbanks and Eddie Dominguez, and we served people tea in my cups using Bridget's pitchers.
After these teacups were used in these situations, I fired s¥mbols onto them. The symbols are words with all the letters stacked on top of each other. Over time, they will build up on the cups and become as much a part of the piece as the stamps on asian scroll paintings.
Critique was just as much a part of this process. It was a performance to add to the list of where the teacups have interacted and a chance to learn about social interaction with tea as the hook to make a certain type of intimate experience happen.
Reflection
I began this project with zen intentions, but found myself to be like a mad hatter who's trying to figure out how being peaceful works. I was inspired by the tea ceremony and all its life reverie. Why not revere the simplicity of life all the time? This escalated into just another complexity in the seriocomic drama of life. A spiritual tea-go.
I learned a little bit about being social. I learned a little bit about how people interact with these little intimate forms. I learned a little more about my own ridiculous tendencies. But it all felt somehow forced... nothing was real to me. Stuff happened. Life happened. I'm uninterested though. I have expectations as to how things should be, how I want them. I habitually see myself as separate from the world, a Thing with expectations, even the expectation of nonexpectation. Oh circular thought, my love for you will be my own doom.
I find it interesting how far removed from original intentions things can become, especially when it comes to the pursuit of Truth. The more we try to understand it or experience it, the more it baffles us and the more separate we become from it. It has turned into an idea we have to fit ourselves and our experience into.
This was the essence of what happened in my final performance, a maniacal and uncomfortable presence of what not to do in the pursuit of Truth.
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Final Documentation & Reflection For Process Project
The Art of the Project: Reflection
The audience kneels or bends. The room is silent as they pay respect to the objects, contemplating their contents as they try to puzzle together what they all might mean. Each person has a story they want to tell about the person they feel is represented. The small vials are medical, but also memorial; they present as both a scientific sample and as part of a memory. Some vials are filled to the brim while others have only an iota of substance in them. This variation in the fill lines implies that what exists in the vial is all that could be preserved. A few of the audience members read it as a chronological narrative- from left to right; others read it as non-sequential and see this as amplifying the investigation required on part of the viewer. The gold leaf and marble shelf, reminiscent of a mausoleum, merge with the repetition of the vials and small black caps to blend science and religion. Audience members mentioned that the vials seemed to appear in categories: grief (tears, funeral brochure, memorial flowers), belongings/ the body (perfume, hair, blood, fuzz from a relic), and actions (burnt brillo, motor oil, melted coke bag). This being said, it didn’t appear that a discernible statement was being made although the process was evident. This rings true with where I stand on the process/ sculpture. Some of the strengths that were mentioned were the sculptures ability to relay memory, the placement on the wall, the presentation, and the the labeling of the vials. In the future, though I like the pencil on the wall, I would like to present the sculpture with toe tags as labels instead. An interesting moment in critique, for me, was the discussion of the term “candy coating.” As it is both an idiom and an object, it becomes both metaphor and reality. I like this because I had applied the phrase “not candy coating it” to the materials I chose to present (i.e. melted coke bag, medical paraphernalia, etc.). Altogether, I feel that the sculpture turned out to be a successful material manifestation of both my sister and the process of my particular form of grief. Death is something that I carry with me; though it may not be at the forefront of my thoughts, it is always lurking closely nearby. That being said, finally getting a chance to make a sculpture dealing directly with my sister’s death feels exactly as her death has been: bittersweet.
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