Recently, while at my parent’s house, I was stuck with the unenviable task of repacking mold-damaged boxes. I couldn’t complain because I wasn’t paying my parents to store my things, so instead I saw it as an opportunity. It was time to trim the excess and. while I was at it, take a little detour down memory lane.
- avoided commissions, not sociable
- credited w/ creating the fete galante
- sense of fantasy w/ women in contemp. clothes & men in theater or 17th cent. outfits
When this little white note turned up I couldn’t remember why I had kept it; 17th century art history wasn’t something I was particularly interested in. Nevertheless, I flipped the page over and continued reading.
- subjects do not engage the viewer as high pa i y, b ut in Frencoi rt
- U o
- Men werenot perfect- some wa grly
18th1800s in trone = were
- v e ry
“Ah ha!” I chuckled to myself as I thought about the dark classroom with the tiered platforms and uncomfortable plastic chairs. If the furniture didn’t feel dated enough, there was always the dual slide projector. Its predictable kachook click was made, I am sure of it, to lull students into sleepy hazes from which they awoke with stiff necks and drool in their hands.
While art history wasn’t the most inspiring class, I still loved being in school and I was excited to be revisit that part of my life. My best friend Jen Kleven had opened a gallery since graduating and she was hosting a group show titled BFABYOBBBQRedo2012. It was a group exhibit showcasing one artwork from each person who graduated from our BFA program. My contribution was to be my first time back in an art circuit since leaving school and moving abroad.
After considering several differnt approaches, I had chosen the inspiration that had just fallen in my lap. Actually, it had been a breaking news update emailed around the office: children were dressing up possum corpses for a school fundraiser in Uruti, NZ. It was weird, it had panache, it was perfect. I couldn’t wait to get started.
While I was drawing Barret had been observing Ivy, our roommate from Shanghai, make a batch of dumplings. Her Chinese version was similar to Korean mandu, which happens to be one of Barret’s favorite foods. So it didn’t surprise me at all when he decided to take an afternoon off from work and to recreate a gluten-free version of his favorite snack.
When they came out from their steam bath they were soft and sticky and fragrant. I never pitied myself for not being able to eat dumplings, but maybe that’s because I didn’t know what I had been missing. They were delicious. I believe the term Ivy would have used was, “Oh my Godness!”
About BFABYOBBBQRedo2012: Kleven Contemporary
About divalicious dead possums in New Zealand: Uruti School Fundraiser