*There are run-on sentences, and fragments. My English prowess tells me so*
Before waking this Sunday morning I had a dream, or thought about my grandma. It started with my realization of my death. And the fear of being inanimate jolted me conscious. In my attempt to sleep again, I considered how I would be buried. For the first time I considered being interred at my home in Iowa. And then I thought about The Farm, grandma Ibeling’s home in Dumont. And thought about being cremated there, or half my ashes in both locations. Then I thought about being buried with her in her plot in the Dumont Cemetery.
After this I was nearly back asleep and had a thought of making an illustrated book about my childhood on that farm. I remember the sunshine, the straw hats from the 50s, strawberries, the huge garden, fishing in puddles (sometimes dried up ones) and I remember pumping the well, even though it was dry.
I woke excited. Thinking of my mono prints and painted books. I have always wanted to create work about that experience. I believe that death is traumatic; from my own experience I get this idea. As a child many people in my community, and church were past the age of 60. I was no stranger to funerals. But my first jolt, the primary intimate acquaintance with death was in 1997 when the most important person in my life did what felt like leaving me. Naturally now I understand the nature of the event. The last years of what should have been a joyous love were unjustly and cruelly manipulated by misdiagnosis, and the misusage of mind-altering drugs. One of the most painful moments was having her be unable to recognize me, and then after that feed her at Christmas Dinner while she was almost no more aware of her surroundings than the vegetable casserole on the plate.
I have been critiqued within the last few weeks that my work is highly personal, and that I give little access points to viewers.
You may now have my official response: Work, is nothing if not personal. The artist is essentially a glorified filter for everyday experience, and the works that filter produces will always be a story. Rather, a record of their existence, the world around them, and their circumstances.
Access points to me are worthless. I would not know how to make someone see exactly what I was going through at the time of making; I think it is enough to simply enjoy what you see. In a struggle to make work accessible you lose the joy of doing. You risk not following the compulsion that propels you, and you ultimately jeopardize the truth of your experience, the one you are trying to depict; for the sake of another human being’s desires. This is not my game, I prefer cards or jacks.
Why is any of this important? Because in the nasty throes of graduation, and the BFA show I am realizing what is important to me. My time in Chicago has been a very lonely one, with little supportive community and my last year has been without all my friends save for one or two. (They are in other states or have graduated). I am loath to say anything negative about the school because I love it, I would not be who I am now without my experiences. But I will call it as I see it:
Dear SAIC,
You must provide a MORE SUPPORTIVE, AND ENCOURAGING COMMUNITY.
Namaste,
Mary
For this reason my grandma is always on my mind when I make things. It was with her that I first realized the depth of my imagination, and the power in my soul for what moves me. Without her encouragement I do not know where I am. When I discovered bookmaking and binding it was her who showed me the way. *She taught me to sew at an early age by showing me how to thread a needle, and gave me free reign to sew around the boarder of her green tablecloth of the dinning room table until my thread would run out. Then I would cut out my stitches and do it again and again. I didn’t know such joy before, except for maybe fishing in dry puddles with the sun on my back.
Every time I sew a book this is what I remember, and I see her smile, her enjoyment of my joy.
I have little seen this played out within school. Here, you feel as if you are always never enough. But, this is largely due to our own limits as artists. Are we not perfectionists? Do we not strive for that feeling of rightness within ourselves each time we do something-that momentary click of certainty that comes with knowing our idea, and technique are in synchronicity? Hah, I do. Just ask my letterpress teacher. ;)
So, I can think of nothing better after five years of questioning myself save for to STOP doing that. To release myself from this endless cycle of approval seeking, and remember those simpler days. My mission will be to let those experiences guide my work, because apparently it comes to me in my sleep for a reason, and to REACH OUT to the small community I have found who understand my reasons for Being, and who do support my joy with their joy.
* I will be pictorially reporting on my BFA piece within a few days*
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
(She's) a ramblin' (wo)man
It's been far too long! Just what has happened since August?
Many, MANY things.
Among them:
We're back in school for my last semester (more on this to come).
I've filled my portfolio with newwwwww work.
and I am working for a second semester as Book Conservation Intern at the Ryerson Library, in the AIC.
I've moved for the 8th time in 5 years
It's been a transitional year, but I'm coming to believe that all years are formative. Recently I've been considering graduate school just as many pre-graduate undergrads scramble and panic to do, however my desires are leaning backward.
Prior to life at SAIC, I had many options and interests.
So, if we were on a date this is how I would explain it:
You: Mary, how did you decide on Art school? You must have known from the start that it would be a good choice. (you are naturally in support of the Arts).
Me: (polite chuckle). Oh, no. Not at all. You see, (fiddle with necklace) I had many options...quite a few diverse interests.
You: Oh? Go on. I'm intrigued. (of course you are).
Me: Well, first you should understand my passion for history. My original goal was to become an Egyptologist. I thought myself to read and write in hieroglyphs by the 4th grade, and from there linguistics became interesting. I'm also a talented chef, so considered attending The Culinary Institute of America in New York...but after being a sus-chef I realized that that environment was not for me.
You: Ooooh, so that must be it! It takes a lot of creativity to be a chef, I see where you're going from here...
Me: ....yes, but then I committed to a Trappist Order on the Mississippi.
You: Wow! Nun?
Me: mm, yup. But I decided that my life could always hold enough room for that in the future. So, looking at the things I wanted to learn in my life I prioritized which skills needed personal instruction and which could be learned on my own. This is where my choice became difficult and easy at once. During this time I was also an accomplished musician, and could easily have pursued it as a career.
You: Which instrument...?
Me: Clarinet. I was burned out from competing, and playing. The music didn't excite me as much as playing in an ensemble did. So I took a break...which has lasted five years.
You: So, you chose art school because you were tired of being a musician?
Me: Yes, and because everything I enjoy about life has to do with making. Especially finding out how things work, or are made; and I found that art school could lend itself well to that interest.
You: are asleep from this long explanation, but I order more cake anyway.
Many, MANY things.
Among them:
We're back in school for my last semester (more on this to come).
I've filled my portfolio with newwwwww work.
and I am working for a second semester as Book Conservation Intern at the Ryerson Library, in the AIC.
I've moved for the 8th time in 5 years
It's been a transitional year, but I'm coming to believe that all years are formative. Recently I've been considering graduate school just as many pre-graduate undergrads scramble and panic to do, however my desires are leaning backward.
Prior to life at SAIC, I had many options and interests.
So, if we were on a date this is how I would explain it:
You: Mary, how did you decide on Art school? You must have known from the start that it would be a good choice. (you are naturally in support of the Arts).
Me: (polite chuckle). Oh, no. Not at all. You see, (fiddle with necklace) I had many options...quite a few diverse interests.
You: Oh? Go on. I'm intrigued. (of course you are).
Me: Well, first you should understand my passion for history. My original goal was to become an Egyptologist. I thought myself to read and write in hieroglyphs by the 4th grade, and from there linguistics became interesting. I'm also a talented chef, so considered attending The Culinary Institute of America in New York...but after being a sus-chef I realized that that environment was not for me.
You: Ooooh, so that must be it! It takes a lot of creativity to be a chef, I see where you're going from here...
Me: ....yes, but then I committed to a Trappist Order on the Mississippi.
You: Wow! Nun?
Me: mm, yup. But I decided that my life could always hold enough room for that in the future. So, looking at the things I wanted to learn in my life I prioritized which skills needed personal instruction and which could be learned on my own. This is where my choice became difficult and easy at once. During this time I was also an accomplished musician, and could easily have pursued it as a career.
You: Which instrument...?
Me: Clarinet. I was burned out from competing, and playing. The music didn't excite me as much as playing in an ensemble did. So I took a break...which has lasted five years.
You: So, you chose art school because you were tired of being a musician?
Me: Yes, and because everything I enjoy about life has to do with making. Especially finding out how things work, or are made; and I found that art school could lend itself well to that interest.
You: are asleep from this long explanation, but I order more cake anyway.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
...may lead you to new paths
At least, that was part of what I picked up from Nikki's grandma tonight while I was in the kitchen.
I've been in Boston now an entire week, and the time has really flown. I'm sure Nik, and her lovely family have grown tired of me, but I'll be jetting through the wild blue yonder on Tuesday eve soon enough.
Our time together this week has been pretty magical and opening. I learned more classic rock and she learned more country. I got to see Beantown. -> I'm really very interested in this idea of a city with flora, and Chicago has very little to offer in the way of a Commons.
So, here come the highlights. It'll be a long post, but completely worth it.
I have:
Gone to the MFA and nabbed an out of this world catalog called Rhythms of Life, British Prints 1914-1939
-There was a great exhibit of Art Nouveau jewelry, and a small showing of Winslow Homer (who I hadn't gotten enough of from the AIC show). I was also greatly impressed by a grouping of opaque water colors from India.
Eaten fried dough (apparently very big on the East Coast, essentially funnel cake without the holes)
Lounged in Boston Commons (gorgeous!)
Waded in the frog pond with children
took a ride on the swan boats :)
collected roses from the community gardeners
visited OLD cemetaries
seen possibly the best work John Singer Sargent ever did, located at the top floor of the old portion of the Boston Public Library (free!)
Eaten a most delightful dinner with old and new friends at a wonderful place called Vee Vee (this includes the BEST dessert I have ever consumed)
Made a nacho feast for Nik's family, with her help (8 avocado guac of my secret recipe)
listened to some Fats
I will:
eat pizza NE style
have my first canoli
This weekend was great for both of us. I met up with my friend Benjamin, from couch surfing. He and his grandfather hosted us on Cape Cod, along with five others. I had my first taste of NE clam chowder (delish!), scallops, and clams. Revisited my love for bananas foster and port, then chatted for hours. Saturday we were all up bright and early, as Benjamin's grandfather, Alfred or "fred", took us on a two hour boat ride to Provincetown. Two hours, a bag of salt-water taffy, box of fudge, and the best gelato ever, it was back on the boat to beat a squall home. On the way we sunbathed, learned about piloting boats, and stopped to swim in the ocean.* Then it was back to the house to fix a monsterous feast for 9.
Including:
mashed potatos
spinach
scallops
burgers
curry stirfry
rice
shrimp (which I shelled and de-veined by hand)-it was fun :)
afterwards there was tea and cookies and the olympics.
*I was a bit afraid to swim but in the end decided that 8 other people wouldn't let me drown, so I jumped off the boat with a yelp and swam around in the briney, warm ocean.
Tomorrow, Nik and I have some celebrating to do. The destination? Walden's Pond. Nature, self sufficency, and swimming. After that it's TO THE NORTH END for pizza and canoli, and maybe a haircut.
Conclusion:
It's all a grand life, really. And I'm pretty sure I finally understand the meaning of, "Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship".
I've been in Boston now an entire week, and the time has really flown. I'm sure Nik, and her lovely family have grown tired of me, but I'll be jetting through the wild blue yonder on Tuesday eve soon enough.
Our time together this week has been pretty magical and opening. I learned more classic rock and she learned more country. I got to see Beantown. -> I'm really very interested in this idea of a city with flora, and Chicago has very little to offer in the way of a Commons.
So, here come the highlights. It'll be a long post, but completely worth it.
I have:
Gone to the MFA and nabbed an out of this world catalog called Rhythms of Life, British Prints 1914-1939
-There was a great exhibit of Art Nouveau jewelry, and a small showing of Winslow Homer (who I hadn't gotten enough of from the AIC show). I was also greatly impressed by a grouping of opaque water colors from India.
Eaten fried dough (apparently very big on the East Coast, essentially funnel cake without the holes)
Lounged in Boston Commons (gorgeous!)
Waded in the frog pond with children
took a ride on the swan boats :)
collected roses from the community gardeners
visited OLD cemetaries
seen possibly the best work John Singer Sargent ever did, located at the top floor of the old portion of the Boston Public Library (free!)
Eaten a most delightful dinner with old and new friends at a wonderful place called Vee Vee (this includes the BEST dessert I have ever consumed)
Made a nacho feast for Nik's family, with her help (8 avocado guac of my secret recipe)
listened to some Fats
I will:
eat pizza NE style
have my first canoli
This weekend was great for both of us. I met up with my friend Benjamin, from couch surfing. He and his grandfather hosted us on Cape Cod, along with five others. I had my first taste of NE clam chowder (delish!), scallops, and clams. Revisited my love for bananas foster and port, then chatted for hours. Saturday we were all up bright and early, as Benjamin's grandfather, Alfred or "fred", took us on a two hour boat ride to Provincetown. Two hours, a bag of salt-water taffy, box of fudge, and the best gelato ever, it was back on the boat to beat a squall home. On the way we sunbathed, learned about piloting boats, and stopped to swim in the ocean.* Then it was back to the house to fix a monsterous feast for 9.
Including:
mashed potatos
spinach
scallops
burgers
curry stirfry
rice
shrimp (which I shelled and de-veined by hand)-it was fun :)
afterwards there was tea and cookies and the olympics.
*I was a bit afraid to swim but in the end decided that 8 other people wouldn't let me drown, so I jumped off the boat with a yelp and swam around in the briney, warm ocean.
Tomorrow, Nik and I have some celebrating to do. The destination? Walden's Pond. Nature, self sufficency, and swimming. After that it's TO THE NORTH END for pizza and canoli, and maybe a haircut.
Conclusion:
It's all a grand life, really. And I'm pretty sure I finally understand the meaning of, "Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship".
Saturday, August 2, 2008
On the road again!
After Wisconsin, I pulled into home (Iowa) for a few days and stayed on the farm (my home). Later I met with my massage therapist friend, introduced her to couchsurfing.com, and learned about the "underground art/healing movement" in north central Iowa. Who would have thought that a drum circle was so close?!
Then it was back to Chicago via Greyhound, work and meetings for a week. One of which was an interview at the Chicago Conservation Center, which happens to be the leading conservation firm in the Nation. They do both public and private work, as well as disaster relief.
At this current moment, I'm sitting in Clarion, Penn., the farthest east I've been to date. (Until tomorrow!) I'm official co-pilot on an excursion to the Holy Land known as Boston, with the holiest of missons. To restore my good friend of four years, Nikki, to her home and loving family.
I won't lie. I'm torn up. Really sad, and regretful of many things. But it's all a very yogic experience. Loss and gain. Uncertainty and reaction.
The only problem is, I'm more attached to this world that the Buddha was, at least...for the next two weeks.
*updates later may include: Boston, Philly, D.C. and of course, loneliness.
Then it was back to Chicago via Greyhound, work and meetings for a week. One of which was an interview at the Chicago Conservation Center, which happens to be the leading conservation firm in the Nation. They do both public and private work, as well as disaster relief.
At this current moment, I'm sitting in Clarion, Penn., the farthest east I've been to date. (Until tomorrow!) I'm official co-pilot on an excursion to the Holy Land known as Boston, with the holiest of missons. To restore my good friend of four years, Nikki, to her home and loving family.
I won't lie. I'm torn up. Really sad, and regretful of many things. But it's all a very yogic experience. Loss and gain. Uncertainty and reaction.
The only problem is, I'm more attached to this world that the Buddha was, at least...for the next two weeks.
*updates later may include: Boston, Philly, D.C. and of course, loneliness.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Red
That's what the biker called me yesterday, when I left for Rudolph, WI early in the A.M. "Good luck Red" he said. Well, I sure as shootin' needed it.
About 2 hours and 45 minutes into my trip I hit the hail storm to beat all to hail storms. The sky to the north was so blue it was black, and the chicken in me came out, so I turned around for home. But about 20 miles away I decided foolish 'twas I. Back toward the grotto I drove, feeling brave and brazen. But, she whooped me. For thirty minutes I stayed parked under an overpass with numerous other people, waiting the banshee out. In the end I had to leave. Rapid fire quarter size hail, and rain thick enough to wipe out ANY visibility finally taught me to see sense.
So I spent the rest of the day sprawled on my motel bed, slobbering in sleep. And then made plans for the next day.
7/17/08
Today was nothing short of righteous. Complete, sublime, serendipitous circumstance. One of the days that will forever make me thankful for all the gifts I've been given in my little life. Today I experienced the Wergner (wegner) Grotto north of Sparta, WI. Yup almost a 3 hour drive from my home base. But I really don't care one bit. Why? Because this site has changed my life. The Grotto was built in the later years of Paul and Matilda Werger's lives. The couple worked in collaboration to build an environment that encompassed their home in rural north west Wisconsin. The site was made as a road side attraction promoting peace for all, patriotism (a different subject all together than what we now understand), and religious tolerance/celebration for all denominations. This includes among other things a "glass church" which is a concrete and glass embellished church. The exterior of this small building (4 can fit inside comfortably) depicts churches of different Christian sects. At the front of this church on either side of the door, sits a Lutheran church and a Catholic church. Above the door is a Star of David and the word Jew.
When I came up near the grotto on the gravel road, I couldn't believe my eyes. Sure the site was greatly weathered, and broken down, but I had an unmistakeable feeling that I couldn't put my finger on until I saw the entry arch. H O M E it reads. A more true declaration never was. When visiting these grottos there is such a rightness to their life that one cannot but feel they are home.
I spent almost 2 hours here wishing I could run up to the glass church, somehow grow fifty feet tall and just devour the whole structure, jagged glass and all. I wouldn't mind the danger; I'd braved a bad rain storm on the way. And swallowing glass chapels of equality seem easier to explain to the doctor than running into fences, like I have been lately.
I stayed long enough to meet a nice family of three, who took my picture, and long enough to figure out that I couldn't get into the church without a key.
I called the historical society of Sparta hoping to work something out. Even with all my pleading, there was nothing to be done.
I drove up the hill to see the graves of Paul and Matilda, and had a very grievous experience. Their headstones are done in the style of the grotto, which inspired in me great emotion.
What is difficult on this trip and in life is to see wonderful things eventually be lost to time. My own work is not so great as this, not so impressive and I lack the confidence these people possessed. To see these environments, and others be demolished, decay, be unloved, and see the people themselves dead is hard to digest. But, I left the Wergner's a Thank-You note just in case.
On the way back to MP I stopped at the Sparta Historical Society, housed in the original Masonic lodge. Jarrod , the director, let me see photos of the interior of the church, the rest of the site, original post cards and gave me a zerox of the Wergners. (I will be making my own macaroni frame to honor them). He then invited me to pursue a conservation vonlunteership with the Grotto next summer! YES. Also, I was invited to send my resulting project to Sparta for their collection. Sounds great to me.
*Whew!*
After the drive back I got my affairs in order for tomorrow, and the following days. To tie things up I wandered down High St. for the last time (this trip) and to The Royal Inn for wifi. But I was famished for veggies, as I've been living on pbj for the past four days. So I splurged on a nice salad, AND figgiehobbin. A traditional Cornish sweet of pastry filled with walnuts and raisins. This one came topped with ice cream and caramel sauce, and the dough was buttery.
BUT YOU'RE VEGAN!?, you say?
Yes. And the Pope is Catholic, but he likes Protestants, too. Plus, I don't think Paul or Matilda would mind.
About 2 hours and 45 minutes into my trip I hit the hail storm to beat all to hail storms. The sky to the north was so blue it was black, and the chicken in me came out, so I turned around for home. But about 20 miles away I decided foolish 'twas I. Back toward the grotto I drove, feeling brave and brazen. But, she whooped me. For thirty minutes I stayed parked under an overpass with numerous other people, waiting the banshee out. In the end I had to leave. Rapid fire quarter size hail, and rain thick enough to wipe out ANY visibility finally taught me to see sense.
So I spent the rest of the day sprawled on my motel bed, slobbering in sleep. And then made plans for the next day.
7/17/08
Today was nothing short of righteous. Complete, sublime, serendipitous circumstance. One of the days that will forever make me thankful for all the gifts I've been given in my little life. Today I experienced the Wergner (wegner) Grotto north of Sparta, WI. Yup almost a 3 hour drive from my home base. But I really don't care one bit. Why? Because this site has changed my life. The Grotto was built in the later years of Paul and Matilda Werger's lives. The couple worked in collaboration to build an environment that encompassed their home in rural north west Wisconsin. The site was made as a road side attraction promoting peace for all, patriotism (a different subject all together than what we now understand), and religious tolerance/celebration for all denominations. This includes among other things a "glass church" which is a concrete and glass embellished church. The exterior of this small building (4 can fit inside comfortably) depicts churches of different Christian sects. At the front of this church on either side of the door, sits a Lutheran church and a Catholic church. Above the door is a Star of David and the word Jew.
When I came up near the grotto on the gravel road, I couldn't believe my eyes. Sure the site was greatly weathered, and broken down, but I had an unmistakeable feeling that I couldn't put my finger on until I saw the entry arch. H O M E it reads. A more true declaration never was. When visiting these grottos there is such a rightness to their life that one cannot but feel they are home.
I spent almost 2 hours here wishing I could run up to the glass church, somehow grow fifty feet tall and just devour the whole structure, jagged glass and all. I wouldn't mind the danger; I'd braved a bad rain storm on the way. And swallowing glass chapels of equality seem easier to explain to the doctor than running into fences, like I have been lately.
I stayed long enough to meet a nice family of three, who took my picture, and long enough to figure out that I couldn't get into the church without a key.
I called the historical society of Sparta hoping to work something out. Even with all my pleading, there was nothing to be done.
I drove up the hill to see the graves of Paul and Matilda, and had a very grievous experience. Their headstones are done in the style of the grotto, which inspired in me great emotion.
What is difficult on this trip and in life is to see wonderful things eventually be lost to time. My own work is not so great as this, not so impressive and I lack the confidence these people possessed. To see these environments, and others be demolished, decay, be unloved, and see the people themselves dead is hard to digest. But, I left the Wergner's a Thank-You note just in case.
On the way back to MP I stopped at the Sparta Historical Society, housed in the original Masonic lodge. Jarrod , the director, let me see photos of the interior of the church, the rest of the site, original post cards and gave me a zerox of the Wergners. (I will be making my own macaroni frame to honor them). He then invited me to pursue a conservation vonlunteership with the Grotto next summer! YES. Also, I was invited to send my resulting project to Sparta for their collection. Sounds great to me.
*Whew!*
After the drive back I got my affairs in order for tomorrow, and the following days. To tie things up I wandered down High St. for the last time (this trip) and to The Royal Inn for wifi. But I was famished for veggies, as I've been living on pbj for the past four days. So I splurged on a nice salad, AND figgiehobbin. A traditional Cornish sweet of pastry filled with walnuts and raisins. This one came topped with ice cream and caramel sauce, and the dough was buttery.
BUT YOU'RE VEGAN!?, you say?
Yes. And the Pope is Catholic, but he likes Protestants, too. Plus, I don't think Paul or Matilda would mind.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Soon to come: MORE CHEESE
An itinerary of the trip, for those few people reading this blog
AKA
MORE CHEESE PLEASE!
July 14: Drive to Dickeyville Grotto and Mineral Point (MP)
July 15: Drive to New Glarus to see Zimmerman's Garage then see MP
July 16: Drive to Cataract to see the Wegner Grotto
July 17: Drive to Rudolph to see the Rudolph Grotto
July 18: Drive to Valton to see The Painted Forest (give Harold a ride home as he is 90)
Drive to Milwaukee
July 19: Drive to Kohler Art Center with Laura (my couchsurfing.com host)
July 20: See Milwaukee Museum of Art and find some awesome veggie friendly things
Drive to Dubuque, IA
July 21: Drive to Dubuque if this didn't happen already
Tour and get into trouble (i.e. find the orphanage my dad stayed in as a child and ride the cable car).
July 22: Drive to Guttenberg, IA to see my Curran family homestead and visit my biological, paternal grandparents' graves.
Drive back to Hampton, IA. (give family hugs, and sack out!).
Can she do it?
AKA
MORE CHEESE PLEASE!
July 14: Drive to Dickeyville Grotto and Mineral Point (MP)
July 15: Drive to New Glarus to see Zimmerman's Garage then see MP
July 16: Drive to Cataract to see the Wegner Grotto
July 17: Drive to Rudolph to see the Rudolph Grotto
July 18: Drive to Valton to see The Painted Forest (give Harold a ride home as he is 90)
Drive to Milwaukee
July 19: Drive to Kohler Art Center with Laura (my couchsurfing.com host)
July 20: See Milwaukee Museum of Art and find some awesome veggie friendly things
Drive to Dubuque, IA
July 21: Drive to Dubuque if this didn't happen already
Tour and get into trouble (i.e. find the orphanage my dad stayed in as a child and ride the cable car).
July 22: Drive to Guttenberg, IA to see my Curran family homestead and visit my biological, paternal grandparents' graves.
Drive back to Hampton, IA. (give family hugs, and sack out!).
Can she do it?
On The Road Again: Roads Travel Grant
This past week I set out on my first solo road trip. But first, some background:
This Spring '08 I took a class called Better Homes and Gardens from SAIC (art history), held at The Roger Brown Study Collection of Chicago. As a result of attending the course, filling project criteria, and making a killer project proposal I was awarded $800 toward traveling to any location in the world to see Outsider Art. Originally from the Mid-West, Iowa to be exact, I had learned in the class that numerous environments were actually located near my home.
So, Saturday the 12th I hoped my first ever Greyhound bus and road 7.5 hours to Des Moines, IA where I was met by my parents and sister. We visited family, got some groceries (there was exclamation over bread and Kombucha! being in Iowa), it was time for the 2 hours home.
It was nice to spend the night in my childhood bed in our farm house, and do the wash the next day. (nothing smells as good as sun dried clothes from the line, except maybe walking in grass barefoot).
I met with more relatives that day, from Texas. Also learned that numerous family members, blood and marriage related, were creative people. Thus, giving me more validation. (WOOHOO!)
Anyway, the next day I jumped in the car, with my suitcase, some food, and maps, and drove across the Mississippi to Dickeyville, WI to see the Dickeyville Grotto. Here I made some new friends, gave life advice to a struggling high school freshman, and bought homemade Strawberry-Rhubarb jelly for my "on the road pb sandwhiches".
Then I drove swiftly, and joyfully through the next half hour to Mineral Point, WI. This is Wisconsin's oldest community, and is named MP because it sits in the Driftless region of WI. This means that no glaciers went through, which left all the minerals, mainly lead, on the surface of the earth. This attracted numerous miners, and eventually many immigrants from Cornwall, England ventured over and built a community even larger than Chicago was at that time.
After landing at my motel, The Dairyland, I took a jaunt down High Street and enjoyed window shopping and lining up my conquests for the next day.
--July, 15th.
On my way to New Glarus, WI today I drove down Hwy 39 and unexpectedly found Grandview, an environment built by an immigrant farming family. I spent nearly two hours here, touring the house (going into rooms and floors I shouldn't have but no one was there to stop me), taking an obscene amount of photos, and just gazing in wonder.
Then I drove to New Glarus, found a very random garage at 1319 N Second St, took some photos of that and then dashed back to MP to hop on a tour of Pendarvis, the oldest settlement of the mining town, on Shake Rag St.
Here I found out some amazing things, for a history buff like myself. But to shorten this post I'll just say this: Mineral Point was literally saved in the early 30's and 40's by two men who just wanted to buy and restore and old stone house. They ended up having a world renowned Cornish eatery, and were visited by Mr. Duncan Hines himself. But, the greatest accomplishment was the single handed saving of a gem of a historical town. And this has me say, HOW 'BOUT THEM APPLES?
Sidenote: This country IS the most beautiful I've driven through in the Mid-West.
This Spring '08 I took a class called Better Homes and Gardens from SAIC (art history), held at The Roger Brown Study Collection of Chicago. As a result of attending the course, filling project criteria, and making a killer project proposal I was awarded $800 toward traveling to any location in the world to see Outsider Art. Originally from the Mid-West, Iowa to be exact, I had learned in the class that numerous environments were actually located near my home.
So, Saturday the 12th I hoped my first ever Greyhound bus and road 7.5 hours to Des Moines, IA where I was met by my parents and sister. We visited family, got some groceries (there was exclamation over bread and Kombucha! being in Iowa), it was time for the 2 hours home.
It was nice to spend the night in my childhood bed in our farm house, and do the wash the next day. (nothing smells as good as sun dried clothes from the line, except maybe walking in grass barefoot).
I met with more relatives that day, from Texas. Also learned that numerous family members, blood and marriage related, were creative people. Thus, giving me more validation. (WOOHOO!)
Anyway, the next day I jumped in the car, with my suitcase, some food, and maps, and drove across the Mississippi to Dickeyville, WI to see the Dickeyville Grotto. Here I made some new friends, gave life advice to a struggling high school freshman, and bought homemade Strawberry-Rhubarb jelly for my "on the road pb sandwhiches".
Then I drove swiftly, and joyfully through the next half hour to Mineral Point, WI. This is Wisconsin's oldest community, and is named MP because it sits in the Driftless region of WI. This means that no glaciers went through, which left all the minerals, mainly lead, on the surface of the earth. This attracted numerous miners, and eventually many immigrants from Cornwall, England ventured over and built a community even larger than Chicago was at that time.
After landing at my motel, The Dairyland, I took a jaunt down High Street and enjoyed window shopping and lining up my conquests for the next day.
--July, 15th.
On my way to New Glarus, WI today I drove down Hwy 39 and unexpectedly found Grandview, an environment built by an immigrant farming family. I spent nearly two hours here, touring the house (going into rooms and floors I shouldn't have but no one was there to stop me), taking an obscene amount of photos, and just gazing in wonder.
Then I drove to New Glarus, found a very random garage at 1319 N Second St, took some photos of that and then dashed back to MP to hop on a tour of Pendarvis, the oldest settlement of the mining town, on Shake Rag St.
Here I found out some amazing things, for a history buff like myself. But to shorten this post I'll just say this: Mineral Point was literally saved in the early 30's and 40's by two men who just wanted to buy and restore and old stone house. They ended up having a world renowned Cornish eatery, and were visited by Mr. Duncan Hines himself. But, the greatest accomplishment was the single handed saving of a gem of a historical town. And this has me say, HOW 'BOUT THEM APPLES?
Sidenote: This country IS the most beautiful I've driven through in the Mid-West.
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