Several of the older entries, not immediately evident on this page, are equally representative of my work, so please explore the postings from March, as well as more recent additions.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Welcome to Designing for the Revolution
Several of the older entries, not immediately evident on this page, are equally representative of my work, so please explore the postings from March, as well as more recent additions.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Our Lady of The Times
1. Viva! Acrylics on Canvas,
Granada, 2007
2. "Spanish Muse" Acrylics on Canvas,
Spring 2007
3. "Our Lady of the Times"Spray Paint, Acrylics on Canvas
Ojai, August 2007
Influenced by Andalusia
Friday, March 28, 2008
Blake Project
Current William Blake Project entitled "Visualizing the Vortex"
A series of six water colour "prints" emulating Blake's work, with an eye towards illustrating the complexities of his more psychological concepts--the nebulous "vortex"
1. My reinterpretation of Blake's Book of Urizen, Plate 15
2. My imagined "Psyche" or "The Traveler Thru Eternity"
To the Eyes of the Man of imagination, Nature is imagination itself.
As a man is, So he Sees. As the Eye is formed, such are its powers.
You certainly Mistake when you say visions of fancy are not to be found in This World
-William Blake in a letter to Dr. Trusler
1. My reinterpretation of Blake's Book of Urizen, Plate 15
2. My imagined "Psyche" or "The Traveler Thru Eternity"
To the Eyes of the Man of imagination, Nature is imagination itself.
As a man is, So he Sees. As the Eye is formed, such are its powers.
You certainly Mistake when you say visions of fancy are not to be found in This World
-William Blake in a letter to Dr. Trusler
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Wild Articulations Ojai, August 2007
Futurist Manifesto
Stanford, Spring 2007
On a bus from Salamanca to Valladolid, an old woman sat by my side for two hours. In a strange act of stranger's generosity, she shared with me the history of her family from 1925 to the present day, her story of the Civil War, her years of Tierra sin Pan, the rise and fall of Franco. It was an incredible narration. Siblings torn apart, families lost, years passed and years spent away from home. She had come to Salamanca for Easter, and as she said goodbye to me at the foothills of the mountain that led to her town, she kissed me on the cheek and pressed two easter eggs into my hands. Each was stained with the brown imprints of maple leaves, and the cracked and hollow shells felt fragile cradled in my awkward hands.
Darker Rose Acrylics on Canvas
Stanford, Winter 2007
Knowledge Oceans
ink drawing
Stanford, Spring 2007
In Barcelona, after my semester in Salamanca, my brother and I caught a train to Pamplona to see the running of the bulls. We had been traveling alone, but in Pamplona we were to meet Antonio and Alessandro, the Sicilian and Florentino respectively, and camp out of the back of their car. At the station we found a desultory Alessandro, who informed us of his imminent departure to Firenze. As he ushered us through the streets of the city, he added, politely, that Antonio would not be coming as he was delayed in San Sebastian. Deciding to be helpful, Alé took us to the park where we would sleep, offered us half of his panini, and promptly disappeared on a train to Madrid.
Spanish Muse
Tina z May Acrylics on Canvas, Spring 2007
In Andalusia, we stayed in Albunuelas, in the Lecrin Valley, in El Cortijo del Piño. Because my mother was catholic, we went to mass in the village's tiny church, and made friends with Moses the breadman on our way down the country lane.
My mother spoke Spanish, though my parents were British, and with the help of her seven children and curious faith, infiltrated the Albunuelas community with surprising speed and dexterity. My father wrote on the veranda and remembered his photography days-- the months he spent traveling with the bullfighter Lucio Sandine after the fall of Franco. He drank wine with an old friend Pedro and my siblings and I imagined scenes of Torreros and picadors. In Tarragona, weeks later, we ended up on the rooftop of a hotel helping bullfighters clean their capes. My mother talked and my father clapped their hands. Later that afternoon we wandered through the Tarragona ring, pre-fight. The sand was laid out just so, and we walked through the center of the ring, ran our hands over thick gouges left in the red wood of the arena-- marks of bulls horns painted over. My littlest sister Catherine road on the shoulders of the bullfighter's manager while the men bartered for their beasts outside.
Viva
Acrylics on Canvas
Granada, 2006
Designing for the Revolution
Hopefully this blog will provide a way of viewing and engaging with my ongoing creative work while sharing my portfolio from the past two years. A student artist at Stanford University, I'm currently exploring different modes of expression, from more traditional canvas studio work to street art and guerilla installations.
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