Mermaids. Kind of disturbing, right? I can't get over it. That is probably why they're interesting me so much. We having something that is fantastically beautiful, living in a world that on its own can kill us. A world that doesn't even want us. I'd say that maybe mermaids are an allegorical representation of the ocean taking its revenge on the human race. Except the only problem with that is that mermaids have existed in mythology for much longer than we've been destroying things. (Debatable, but let's stick with that.) I don't necessarily blame mermaids for wanting to kill people, or being confused by the difference between a living human and a dead human. It's rather complicated, yet without much difference at all. If you really think about it. It's also much more difficult to tell when you're constantly underwater. Being shriveled and scaly must make an impact on your mind's processes. Whatever the case... mermaids. Mermen. Merfolk. Fascinating. Beautifully grotesque and frightening. In a majestic kind of way. That being said... without further ado. The finished doll.
I am quite pleased. She is embellished within an inch of her life. Exaggeration, but it was work. Not as much work as other projects that I have subjected myself to, so it was a nice break. She is made of sequins, wool, embroidery floss, sea shells, faux coral (I think it's fake... you know those red stone things that used to make up necklaces for royalty? Is that coral? Whatever the case, it feels fake...), faux pearl beads, and silkscreened face and body. I'm very pleased. Her hair looks bleached, and looks like there's seaweed tangled into it. She's shiny, dazzling, and has a look of joyful contempt. Her expression changes depending on the angle of her face. Strange, but oh-so satisfying.
I am writing this from a coffee shop in downtown Calgary. I spent part of my morning at ACAD, doing my part to refurbish the walls and make them pretty again. Because I have to work this evening, I decided to gallivant about, and go downtown. Downtown is such a strange place. It's always a bizarre mix of lives and faces, a mixing pot for every social class and walk of life. I like it, but it's not my favourite part of Calgary. It's rather dirty, and it's full of impatient people who have become a little more than ornery. Despite the people, I do occasionally make my way to Stephen Avenue to visit Caffe Rosso (one of my favourite coffee shops in the city), and visit the Glenbow (the benefit of paying for memberships). I am eating a hearty sandwich, a strong and creamy Earl Grey (just the way I like it), and eyeing a ginger molasses cookie. I can't help but wonder what this makes me. The fact that I am in a coffee shop, writing my blog. That is what a void of internet at home will get you, I suppose. It's also nice to have a change of pace, and some time completely by myself. That is why I chose to not write in the department studio. Sometimes you need to shake things up, and remove yourself from your normal surroundings. Ideally, it should be somewhere quiet and without people, but a coffee shop sometimes works just as well. Just something different.
I'm at a point of change. I'm not sure where the change will take me, or what the change will involve. I just know that there is change in progress. I think part of that comes from the fact that it is the end of the semester, and I am coming to terms with where this puts me, and how my art is evolving. It's a strange place to be. Kind of a weird mixture between a nirvana and a dark void. I'm no longer as stressed as I was, because I have grounded myself, and I can just finish things with the knowledge that once I am done, I can rest for a little while. I will be done. For a little while. Even a little while is better than never, or not at all. I'm also at a point of discovery, research, and it's wonderful.
I stumbled upon an article than discussed Francisco Goya's "Black Paintings". Specially, Saturn Devouring His Son. This prompted me to start reading about the paintings, and I fell into a world of Goya. I've always liked Goya. His paintings are dark, intimidating, rank with emotion. While reading about the paintings on an art history website (or something of the sort), I found a quote about Goya that struck chords with me. "The constant fear of a relapse made him impatient".
I can't even express how much this sang to me. How much the paintings made me feel, and how much they made me think about my present mindset in art. It's not spot on with Francisco Goya, but it's pretty close. Just like that, I could make things again.
That brings me to now, today, and the fact that I feel like I'm at a crossroads. A change. I don't know what the change is, but it feels comforting, and I welcome this sense. Maybe the change is just the fact that I have moved out of stress, and it feels like this semester has been nothing but. The only thing is, I know that it's not going to last. Nothing ever does. Which is why the Black Paintings inspired me to make this.
The doll is shaped like Saturn's son in one of the paintings. Missing head and arm, because they have been consumed. Details of French knots and script embroidery. "The constant fear of a relapse made him impatient" is embroidering on the stomach and chest. It seems that relapse can be inevitable. You just have to recognize that you aren't alone, and you can't let the fear of, or the relapse, control you.
I think that's all I can say for now. Or that I have to say. But in a completely different realm, this gingersnap is absolutely wonderful (darest I say perfect?). Caffe Rosso was a good choice. Now, to walk to work, and continue that part of my life.
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