I had to wake up early the other morning to run errands in West Knoxville, a very rare outing for me during that time of day. It was the first really cold morning of the season, which always makes me feel nervous about the months ahead.
I'm in my car, heat blasting, drinking coffee, and find myself behind a car whose back window is rolled down so their Husky could stick its head out.
Soft rolling fur. Pink tongue dangling. Purest Joy.
I will carry this image with me over the next few months.
The sooner you give in, the better.
I don't want to wake up in 15 years and regret not making enough artwork. I also don't want to be poor.
Come out to the Retropolitan Craft Fair this Saturday and visit The Knox Heritage Salvage Shop's booth. My artwork will be among some of the items I'll be selling there.
FYI, when you purchase my work through The Salvage Shop, you are benefitting Knox Heritage and my artistic endeavors simultaneously. Win, win!
Retropolitan Holiday Craft Fair
Saturday, November 21
9am - 5pm
at The Southern Railway Station
306 W Depot Ave
Knoxville 37917
Winter is coming, and I'm preparing. Here is my list of supplies:
In the spring (which was easily one of the busiest times of my life) I created some of my most favorite artwork to date.
One reason I liked this work so much was because, besides Sweet Treats, it was one of the only shows where I created all new pieces, something that has been hard for me to accomplish in the past several years.
It was also work that felt very formulaic- once I decided what it was I wanted to do, I just had to do it. There wasn't a lot of guess work, like when I'm painting on canvas, so going into my studio, there wasn't the usual pacing around before working. I could jump right into it.
It's overwhelming, but at this point in my life, when I make artwork, it feels like it's about everything I think about all at once. It's funny to realize this series references an idea I studied in elementary school- that of Propaganda.
I learned early on that food companies (were evil and) made their packaging in a way that would make me want to buy it and that this packaging would not necessarily reflect the quality of the food it encased. Since then, that information has been in the back of my brain when I shop and has cast a dark shadow over the joy of consumerism. (Ignorance truly is bliss.)
As you might assume, I'm an incredibly visual person. I also get easily overwhelmed. So put me in a grocery store, a vast overwhelming sea of options with confusing price points and differing measurements, and tell me aesthetics shouldn't sway me, and you have one miserable artist with ADD on your hands.
So my idea for the food packaging women was to transform grocery shopping into something grand! I would cast off my skepticism of package designers and focus solely on the most attractive foods. I turned Kroger into an art supply store, and it was lovely.
When I returned home, my roommate noticed a theme in my loot- vintage looking packaging and international food. (Also, I ate candy for weeks...)
So I separated the packaging from the food and took it to my studio. The supermodels I chose were all ready torn out of magazines and were determined based on their clothes, position, and how they would look on a white piece of paper.
It took some time to find the most efficient order of steps. I would draw the "skin" of the model. Then I picked the packaging I felt most resonated with the original clothing, and after a series of meticulous tracing, cutting with an X-acto knife, and glueing, they were complete.
I loved the methodic nature of each. I loved the straighforward-ness of it, almost like I was using a pattern to sew (something I sadly may never learn to do). I like the clean look of them on the white paper, and I like how, even though precision was necessary, I could let my natural inclination NOT to be precise come through. None of them are lined up and matched perfectly. They stray from the original.
And so my alluring food packaging reflects the allure of glamorous clothing that I will never be able to afford. However, where world famous designers use exquisite fabrics and materials, I used materials anyone could buy. I would venture to say I chose the materials as meticulously as any designer. The gathering of materials also shined light on the otherwise gloomy chore of grocery shopping.
I often feel opposing emotions toward the fashion industry, and while I'm not trying to make any bold statement either way, I feel like this was a way to express both.
A week and a half ago, I ran six miles for the first time. I was alone, running along the Tennessee River, drenched from the humidity when the Map My Run robot voice told me I had done it. It was a quiet and monumental occasion.
What has compelled me, a recovering lazy bones, to ever accomplish such a thing? Have I become a runner?
A long- long, long- time ago, I would have considered myself athletic. I played soccer for over ten years when I was younger, but when college hit, all the newness sort of shocked my being, and over time, activity and sport faded out of my life.
After graduation, however, I was shocked in a different way. Those years were about survival, and it became vital that I start doing something that was good for me. The mountains nearby beckoned me, and hiking in the Smokies became something I had to do to counter all the ways I didn't know how to be an adult. It became a necessity.
Gradually other activities started creeping in, things I could easily incorporate into my life without feeling like I was exercising, such as walking and swimming. It was important that I didn't feel like I was intentionally exercising. I had to trick myself or else I ran the risk of jumping ship.
But then some friends convinced me to go on a group run that started at a bar and ended back there with discounted beer. The Beer Run.
I remember the first time I went, I said out loud that I felt like an impostor. It had been so long since I had run, I felt like a fake.
It was a funny thing to say, I know, but whenever I do new things, my brain tells me I have no business being there. Only from experience do I know I'll get over that feeling and most likely enjoy the thing I was nervous about. In this case, the reward of discounted beer and camaraderie worked wonders for me. I started going weekly, walking a lot at first, and eventually becoming somewhat... decent. It was a strange thing to realize, but this thing called exercise was actually fun. (Ew!)
My sisters live in Memphis and are part of a running club lovingly named the Schweddy Belles. They run all the time with this group, finding community among the members. While the Beer Run I go to isn't a club, I can relate to the desire for community in this area. No one forces me to run on Mondays, but somehow I feel more of a pull to do it, just because others are. It also offers an excitement by showing me that, amidst other life failures, "Why yes, indeed! I am improving at something."
So I come back around to why I was running six miles in the dead of summer: My sister convinced me to run a half marathon this September.
I've been asked to run half marathons in the past but always said no. It's been a gradual change, but this build up over the years has worked to change my mind. And, let's be honest, I also knew training for this would curb my natural inclination to drink margaritas on pool rafts all summer long. My lazy bones have become crazy bones. I am a runner!
... at least until September 12.
