Thank you Uncle Paul for documenting this awesome night! Here is a short recap of the opening reception of Put'Em Up. Enjoy!
May 30, 2010
May 16, 2010
THINGS, FEELINGS, LISTS
On My Mind
* I am slowly putting together plans for a gallery space that will allow alumni of Montserrat to show and sell their work. Support from all who are interested (even if you are still attending school) is welcomed! Please email me at ssantarsiero@montserrat.edu if you are interested or have questions. MORE INFORMATION AT A LATER DATE.
* I will be graduating from Montserrat College of Art with a BFA in painting and a minor in art history on May 28th! This makes me terrified and overly excited at the same time.
* Find a second job. CHECK. So far Cielito Lindo, a lovely restaurant that offers authentic Mexican cuisine, has been a great working/learning experience.
* Tonight I was walking home with Kevin and we heard one of my neighbors playing the violin. I forgot how much I love listening to the violin.
* Summer is so near. I CAN FEEL IT.
May 5, 2010
JANINE ANTONI
(photos by Martha Buskirk)
Back in April I had the wonderful experience of attending a lecture at Harvard with a few friends. A group of historians and artists came together to talk about gender and space.
Janine Antoni was one of the artists to join the group of speakers. She addressed the idea of the interior space by carrying out a performance, which incorporated every member of the audience. Needless to say I was beside myself.
Here is a short clip of the performance, credit to Martha Buskirk.
Here is a great article, written by Corydon Ireland addressing the lecture. Please Click Here to read the entirety of it.
May 1, 2010
I'll Just Let Hair Be Hair. And Hang There.
Install for Put'Em Up.
Dried flowers from a church yard and poem included.
When
"When my mother dies
I'll smoke my first cigarette of at least a thousand
that will inevitably end my life.
I will not make the bed, but turn down the sheets;
white wind hands will
paint her face away. I will not
wear white.
Ashes will descend upon time
and time turn to dust.
Dust will appear forgivable and blue.
I never will notice until 'warning' turns her light on
(Leave the light on, please),
I will do this nightmare a dirty favor
for my own peace and demise.
I will not recall Christmas decor.
Pink plastic lights
strung by papa's hands will not show
the twinkle in my short circuit.
I will not remember how
the blue ones gave away her grace,
with a foreshadowing too early for my liking,
as she stood in the kitchen
and made me eyes from scratch
to see through.
I will walk in circles around the wine stain
on the carpet floor.
I will not look for 7 a.m. sunlight squares
through the kitty door,
over-easy eggs and bacon
(kitty is long gone now).
I won't remember holding sermon on her chest,
sternums lain to rest,
mommy lying there without me
as I will be without my self.
I will string beads like spiderwebs
from their melting neck,
turquoises and pearls of hers,
and I will let them stay
a part of my body, as I
could not be.
I will not hear those songs I promise I would learn
but let die, those pipes in memory,
selfishly.
Guitars will invoke that nothingness
where a girl once sang along to a woman's chorus
in natural cause
that harmony remain sacred.
I will not remember, my ear to her stomach,
sounds of the blood moving.
When moo is gone,
I'll just let hair be hair. And hang there."
-Amber Tamblyn
SUCCESS!
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