by Cecie Chewning
Who knew that carrots, apples, corn, potatoes, turnips, limes and others were just waiting for their chance to become tools to make art?
Janice led CBAS Study Group last weekend to explore the possibilities of stamping with veggies and fruits as well as with grasses, leaves and other growing things. There was also fun foam available to cut and print with. Dee led off the afternoon with examples of her printed work to inspire the group.
Here’s a sampling of the afternoon’s creativity:
Remember…as a CBAS member you, too, can explore your talents with Study Group that meets once a month in our studio at Pendleton Arts Center. For more information, contact Janice at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Feeling stuck? Here are a few movies to get you un-stuck:
Who Does She Think She Is? OK, I admit I cry during some point during almost every movie I watch. That includes The Color Purple, Big, Ponyo, and The Secret World of Arietty, plus every film mentioned in this post. OK, and some commercials. But throughout this one I was a mess! Trying not to defer the dream takes an enormous amount of emotional, personal, and financial effort — but not as much as ignoring your gifts. Witnessing these brave women’s lives can be quite draining, but also inspiring.
Camille Claudel Kind of depressing, but the passion, wow! Such a beautiful film. I saw this back in the day (it came out in ’88). Rodin (played by Gerard Depardieu) is kind of a tool. Isabelle Adjani is marvelous, as always.
Ratatouille A little French rat pursues his impossible dream of becoming a chef. What’s not to love?
What movies inspire you? Discuss!
It’s getting hotter outside, but we learned about collage with the coolest, Sara Pearce.
Sara talked about materials, technique, and copyright, among other things. She also challenged us to a variety of small projects, including using monochromatic materials (I was compelled to add red to my gray assignment — fail!), using only letters and numbers, and then creating something using vintage pictures and ephemera.
Here are a few helpful hints:
- Move the paper, not your cutting hand. This makes the project easier to manage.
- When cutting large pieces, cut the center parts out first. That way, the piece is less likely to fall apart.
- Glue dots aren’t just for kids! Glue aficionados agree that glue dots work. You can stick a piece together, then take it apart!
- A top coat keeps everything together and gives a nice finish. Use a variety of glues (experiment) or even varnish.
Here are some photos, courtesy Janice Kagermeier:
There is nothing better than the thrill of holding a great negative, wet with fixer, up to the light. And, here’s the important thing: it doesn’t even have to be a great negative. You get the same thrill with any negative; with art, as someone once said, most of what you have to do is show up. The hardest part is setting the camera on the tripod, or making the decision to bring the camera out of the car, or just raising the camera to your face, believing, by those actions, that whatever you find before you, whatever you find there, is going to be good. — Sally Mann
The book instantly took me back to my years living in Lexington, Virginia. This book has people and places that are known to anyone who has lived there. My husband worked in the public library that Mann’s mother helped establish. The Maury River, Goshen Pass, and Natural Bridge all make appearances. The two schools, VMI and W&L, figure prominently, as they so often do in a town populated by fewer natives than students and come-heres. The southern sense of place, not to mention the photographer’s sense of place, is strong. Even if you have never visited Lexington, you will get a strong vision of it from Hold Still.
Mann is as completely absorbed with the past as the rest of her hometown is. In a place where one can visit General Lee’s hairbrush or Stonewall Jackson’s (now stuffed) horse, Traveler, it’s easy to get the sense that nothing is really ever over.
Mann, too, can’t seem to let anything from the past go. In some instances this is important — she does not let the mystery of racial history escape her lens, and the effect is powerful. Her stories about growing up with household help could have been a fine book in itself.
But, I had to wonder whether Mann thinks any part of her self is original. Can our every quirk and tendency be traced back to our ancestors? Mann, like Lexington, seems to believe this. In all memoirs, the past and present are necessarily cojoined. To what extent must they be? For Mann, it seems, past and present are two manifestations of the same thing.
This is a photography book, by and about a photographer. While many CBAS members are experts at this, I remain in awe of this hyper-technical art form. Anything more complicated than watercolors and a brush makes me nervous. Thus, I was a bit baffled by parts of Mann’s in-depth discussions about her craft. Yet, these passages were not a deterrent for me, and less Ludditey readers will find them fascinating.
As for the photos themselves, many are well-known Mann pieces. I wish my handheld paperback were physically larger. The photos aren’t as visible in my paperback copy as they would be in a larger art book.
Sally Mann does not shy away from death. On the contrary, she tends to focus on it, bringing it closer than is comfortable, as photographers do with all subjects. By definition, memoirs are never really complete. We learn so much about Mann’s children and other family in this book. What we don’t learn is that her son Emmett died after this book was written. If that is a spoiler or trigger warning, so be it — Mann does such fine work confronting death here. Her father, her dog, a stranger from town who wandered onto her property, all sorts of Southern relics, and decomposing bodies in Tennessee all serve as studies in death.
This being the world, we know more death will come to everyone. What art will spring from Mann’s worst pain of all, the loss of her son, whose birth she photographed?