I adore their little hands in the second frame; I cherish them.
I adore their little hands in the second frame; I cherish them.
I've come across some pretty amazing things while researching architectural salvage online. Here's a little treat I've never seen before:
A Tub Sofa
I can't say that I'd ever want one of these, but I'm a strong advocate for creative re-use, and this is a fine example.
On a different but similar note, anyone in the market for a 30.5" x 60" antique cast iron tub?
Email beth@knoxheritage if you are.
A Tub Sofa
I can't say that I'd ever want one of these, but I'm a strong advocate for creative re-use, and this is a fine example.
On a different but similar note, anyone in the market for a 30.5" x 60" antique cast iron tub?
Email beth@knoxheritage if you are.
Today, I'm featuring a painting I made about my favorite M. Ward song because I just found out I'm going to see him for the first time in September at the Bijou. I'm very excited.
Long Distance Phone
2011
acrylic and latex on salvaged wood, framed
approximately 6"x12"
$55 {you may purchase this painting here*}
I wanted the painting to have a similar feel to the song- folksy, nostalgic, simple.
*a portion of the proceeds from this painting goes to Knox Heritage
Long Distance Phone
2011
acrylic and latex on salvaged wood, framed
approximately 6"x12"
$55 {you may purchase this painting here*}
I wanted the painting to have a similar feel to the song- folksy, nostalgic, simple.
*a portion of the proceeds from this painting goes to Knox Heritage
I made this painting just after The Poltroon Hard at Work. I wanted to express the idea of being consumed with thoughts of someone else. In this case, the girl sitting on the sofa is being haunted by thoughts of the girl on the ceiling. It's called Living Ghost to convey that she is not being haunted by a spirit but rather someone still alive. This implies a rift between the two girls, the possibility that renewal is there, but the presence of difficult circumstances, rendering the situation hopeless.
Living Ghost
acrylic on canvas
2011
about 4'x 3'
Most people know this experience, especially when romantic love is lost. It can be agonizing learning how to let go of a relationship over time.
The same agony can happen over a broken friendship, and may even be worse because of how unexpected it can be to lose someone you never thought you could "break up" with.
The painting expresses the idea of this more than the feeling.
The magazine in the table is this:
Judith Eisler made the painting on the cover. She was my drawing teacher one semester of art school.
And the Corgi is, well, I want a Corgi.
The space reflects the type of place I'd like to inhabit one day.
Questions or comments about this painting are welcome, either via the comment section below or by emailing beth@bethmeadows.com.
Living Ghost
acrylic on canvas
2011
about 4'x 3'
Most people know this experience, especially when romantic love is lost. It can be agonizing learning how to let go of a relationship over time.
The same agony can happen over a broken friendship, and may even be worse because of how unexpected it can be to lose someone you never thought you could "break up" with.
The painting expresses the idea of this more than the feeling.
The magazine in the table is this:
Judith Eisler made the painting on the cover. She was my drawing teacher one semester of art school.
And the Corgi is, well, I want a Corgi.
The space reflects the type of place I'd like to inhabit one day.
Questions or comments about this painting are welcome, either via the comment section below or by emailing beth@bethmeadows.com.
I've discovered the beauty of full spectrum light bulbs. How I didn't know about them in my first 26 years is beyond me, but now I can actually see what I'm working on in my studio, at long last.
My only complaint is that they are ridiculously hot. This wouldn't be that big of a deal if I had a/c in my studio, but I do not.
I'm thinking I could strip down and start treating this place like a sauna, maybe pushing me toward my art-nasium* idea.
But seeing that I don't have heat either, these little puppies are going to do me right come wintertime. Is that almost here?
*more on this later, most likely
My only complaint is that they are ridiculously hot. This wouldn't be that big of a deal if I had a/c in my studio, but I do not.
I'm thinking I could strip down and start treating this place like a sauna, maybe pushing me toward my art-nasium* idea.
But seeing that I don't have heat either, these little puppies are going to do me right come wintertime. Is that almost here?
*more on this later, most likely
I'm leaving New York tomorrow morning. Why am I not out on the town? Weeeell. I've spent enough money this week; it's time to stay in.
I'm sitting across from Luke, who is also on his Mac, and we're drinking wine, listening to music, humming along. He's in super-programing mode. I'm blogging. I'm ok with this ending.
I went to the rooftop of his and Jess's building to take photos of the sunset, hence the new banner at the top of this page. Here are some of the other photos (enjoy the self-portrait.):
One of my favorite parts of this trip was visiting the High Line. I thought it was incredible. (Click the hyperlink for the history)
In short, the elevated railway was abandoned in 1980. The city was going to tear it down, but a group of people, the Friends of the High Line, wanted to preserve it.
Hui and me.
And when we went, there were crowds, CROWDS of people up there. I was trying to figure out if the High Line connected people to anything, but no, not really. It's merely a destination, drawing people there because of what it is, not because of where it takes you. I was mesmerized, so impressed, for the visionaries of that project, the architects involved, to see how successful it has become.
I didn't need hordes of people to tell me of its success, however. I wish I could have been there with a few friends or alone. Bare feet, walking through a shallow pool of water, looking at the sparkling Hudson River in the distance.
Amanda, quintessential American
I'm grateful for this trip. I'm ready to get back to my precious baby kitten and my studio, however. And I kind of want to go swim in a stream in the Smoky Mountains sometime soon.
It's time to process all of this sensory overload.
I'm sitting across from Luke, who is also on his Mac, and we're drinking wine, listening to music, humming along. He's in super-programing mode. I'm blogging. I'm ok with this ending.
I went to the rooftop of his and Jess's building to take photos of the sunset, hence the new banner at the top of this page. Here are some of the other photos (enjoy the self-portrait.):
One of my favorite parts of this trip was visiting the High Line. I thought it was incredible. (Click the hyperlink for the history)
In short, the elevated railway was abandoned in 1980. The city was going to tear it down, but a group of people, the Friends of the High Line, wanted to preserve it.
Hui and me.
And when we went, there were crowds, CROWDS of people up there. I was trying to figure out if the High Line connected people to anything, but no, not really. It's merely a destination, drawing people there because of what it is, not because of where it takes you. I was mesmerized, so impressed, for the visionaries of that project, the architects involved, to see how successful it has become.
I didn't need hordes of people to tell me of its success, however. I wish I could have been there with a few friends or alone. Bare feet, walking through a shallow pool of water, looking at the sparkling Hudson River in the distance.
Amanda, quintessential American
I'm grateful for this trip. I'm ready to get back to my precious baby kitten and my studio, however. And I kind of want to go swim in a stream in the Smoky Mountains sometime soon.
It's time to process all of this sensory overload.
I'm currently in New York City, arrived Wednesday morning and leaving bright and early Monday. I'm here with my friend Amanda, staying with Luke and Jess, friends who just moved here a couple of months ago, living the dream in Manhattan.
Beautiful Amanda
The first time I visited New York was by way of an RV with six other people. We stayed at an RV park in Jersey City. Great view of the Statue of Liberty from across the river and the most perfect spot to be murdered in a dimly lit bathroom late at night.
Together we spent 12 hours on Times Square on December 31, 2007. It was the worst, but we came, and we conquered.
The second time, I came with my friend Amelia. We did a lot of touristy things, visited friends, and ate a lot of good food.
This is my third trip and nothing like the first two.
Pratt gym
I'm here with a different perspective, taking in everything without the use of a hand held map or asking too many people for directions. I read on the subway. I eat delicious meals by myself and sink deep in thought and daydreams. I meet Amanda for an $8 afternoon beer to talk about our day. Later, we meet Jess and Luke for dinner at a restaurant they've discovered and want to share with us.
It's about time for that beer, but first...
Bobcat in Luke and Jess's bedroom on the Upper West Side
This trip is different because I'm trying to figure out if I could live here.
"Why?!?" my 23-25ish-year-old-self asks.
I never thought back then I'd be doing this, but I'm looking at art schools here. I've always thought about grad school, but never pursued it. I'm grateful this process has begun, to begin to figure out if this is for me.
It was a great decision to come here with all my questions. I've been given a wealth of information over the past three days by students, professors, advisers, and department heads of some of the top art schools in the country and world. I've moseyed through pristine, glittery buildings and crummy, gigantic, wonderful studios. I've seen woodshops, printshops, computer labs, darkrooms, and in-house galleries.
Common threads run throughout each school's spiel. Each wants to see a cohesive body of work from their applicants. They want students who are ready, mostly somewhere in between recent undergrad and a professional artist (this is me). They want to see great images of their best work. It's good to see work that spans across different mediums as long as it isn't too scattered.
They tell you how much you are going to work, how tight-knit the students become, how students dabble in their own curating, converting any space they can into galleries. They all speak of studio visits by established artists, curators, galleries, and how important those meetings are over time.
Most of the people I've spoken with graduated from an MFA program in New York. Some are honest, telling me they haven't painted in years. Some said they realized a long time ago they'd never make it as an artist, but are content working in an art-related field.
I've been given me a lot to think about.
The words that have resonated the most with me go something like this: It doesn't matter how fancy a school is or how much guidance is given. Once you are inside their walls, it's all about what you can do. Art school can't make a person an artist. You either have it or you don't.
My appointments are finished, so tonight and this weekend should be fun, relaxed, and inspiring. When Monday rolls around, I'll be ready to come back home, anxious to pick up with everything that needs to be done, and by that, I mean, I am dying to paint.