The Reflection

So that was the scene on Sunday. We were located on the third floor of the American Visionary Art Museum, anxiously awaiting instruction from the project leader, Josh, of Shua.

On that note, I’d like to mention a little something about Joshua Bisset and collaborator Laura Quattrocchi. I had an epiphany on the drive home after our performance that day: artists are real. That might sound a little stupid at first, but I’ve spent so long looking at artists’ works and analyzing their paintings and studying their sculptures, I’d forgotten that they’re actually real people! They’d become this mysterious creative force that existed only as text in books or as screen names hidden throughout the Internet. But actually meeting Josh and Laura, talking to them, interacting with them, made me step back and think to myself: wow, there are actually living, breathing people out there that dedicate all their time and effort for art’s sake. I suppose this might come as a shock to me because I can’t picture an “artist” without a “studio.” Josh and Laura’s studio is the world and their medium is us. That’s a realm I had seldom thought about before Public Moves. But for some strange reason, against all of my previous notions of art, our performance that day on Federal Hill felt more “art” than any painting or sculpture. Perhaps it’s simply because it is all so new to me. Or perhaps it is because I was actual involved in the project and not just hearing about it on the news. Whatever the reason, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind as I jogged, crawled, and rolled all over Federal Hill that people like Josh and Laura were artists, in the truest sense of the word. They made a believer out of me.

“It’s hard to explain — you just had to be there.” That’s what I’ve been telling everyone who’s asked where I disappeared to Sunday afternoon. And I think that actually sums up the performance really well. It was just that: a performance and an experience. It doesn’t exsist in words, or in a picture, and it barely exists on film; where it truly exists is in the past — a brief era atop Federal Hill that will never exist anywhere else. Only the performers and the confused on-lookers will know what Public Moves really was… and I’m sure there are some confused on-lookers out there that still aren’t sure what they saw. Maybe I’m not even sure what I saw — who knows? I’m sure about what I did, though: the handshaking, the leaf throwing, the pose making. I’m sure about what I heard, as well: the shrill blasts, the sharp squeaks, the low hums, the deep rumbles, the warm buzzing, all emanating from the rooftops of the museum and Science Center, courtesy of Prof. Bradley & Co. It was a blur of sound and motion, which is precisely what I believe it was intended to be. So in that sense, it was a huge success.

So where does that leave me in regard to this “brave, new” art-form? Honestly… I’m not certain. But that’s no surprise — I’m seldom really certain about anything. My opinions are constantly changing, so I can only tell you what I feel as of today, at this moment, 4:28 PM, on Wednesday, the 29th of October, 2008 CE. And what I feel is pride. What I feel is admiration. What I feel is a sense of discovery and excitement at what has been discovered. Not only that, but I feel a sense of adventure — a sense that there is still some unexplored country left on the island of art — and that maybe (and that’s a very big “maybe”) there might be something there of some real value to me. But hey, don’t get all misty-eyed, this public performance stuff still isn’t my “thing.” It feels like a vacation to me — a break from the usual and ordinary. Everyone likes vacations, but everyone also knows that they only last for so long and then it’s back to the grind. But the grind isn’t so bad. If it wasn’t for the grind, there’d be no reason for vacations. So Public Moves Federal Hill was just that for me: a vacation in the world of art. I had fun — I’d visit there again — but there’s this “home, sweet home” feeling to go back to the familiar — back to what I’m used to.

Exhausted

So it’s done. All the stressing, all the driving, all the endless hill climbing — it’s finally over. And while you’re probably expecting a nice long reflection piece on the project and what it meant to me… you’re not getting one… yet. Thing is, while I’d love to write about it while everything’s still fresh in my mind, I’m simply too exhausted — seriously exhausted. So expect a nice long reflection piece in the very near future. In the meantime, I’ll be sleeping.

Rain or Shine

So tomorrow’s “the big day.” I’m so nervous — it’s gonna be hectic. I have a midnight launch at work tonight, so the earliest I can possibly get to bed is around 1:30 AM. So I get a few hours of sleep and then I have to wake up to make it to the Baltimore Museum of Art by 11:00 AM when they open. I have to see three sculptures for a paper I’m writing in my ART 323 class. A good friend said she’d tag along with me so I wouldn’t be so stressed out. God bless her. Anyway, she’ll be driving up separately, so I’m still left to find my way there on my own. At around 12:30 PM, I’ll have to leave the museum to drive down to Federal Hill to participate in the Public Moves performance. I should be able to find my way there and home without incident…. It’s done nothing but rain all day but I’m praying that most of it dries up by the time we hit the hill. If there was one pet peeve I forgot to mention, it’s mud.

So I should probably get back to work. I’ve got some other homework assignments I need to finish in the little time I have before school on Monday. I’ll leave you with a couple photos I took of our rehearsal that I never got a chance to post. Enjoy:

Visionary Art

So I didn’t get to mention anything about the American Visionary Art Museum in my last few posts and I got some pretty neat pictures of it. I’d definitely like to go through it one day. Here’s what I got:

Grass Stains Redux

So I have a lot of pet peeves. You already know I don’t care for that itchy feeling that grass gives you. I also dislike driving through cities, feeling lost, bees, sweating, and heights. Last Saturday… I was fortunate enough to experience them all… simultaneously….

So as I was saying, last Saturday was the Public Moves Federal Hill rehearsal. I think it’s only the second time I’ve ever been to Federal Hill. The time before was a long, long time ago. It was the 4th of July — no clue what year, though. The hill’s a lot different in daylight. It’s actually not a hill. Well, it’s not in my opinion. It’s a mountain. Federal Mountain. I got very well acquainted with Federal Mountain. I rolled around, crawled, sat, jogged, and laid all over Federal Mountain. Every cloud has a silver lining, though, they say. Federal Hill was my cloud. The vista of Baltimore city stretching out in every direction was my silver lining.

 You see, I grew up in Pasadena. If you’re from Baltimore, Pasadena is the boondocks. I’m sure there’re real boondocks out there somewhere that make Pasadena look like downtown. I wouldn’t ever want to find them. New places scare me. Actually, it’s not the places — just the people. I generally don’t trust people. And cities are watering holes for people I don’t trust. So naturally, I don’t really travel much — too much anxiety. But Saturday was different. I didn’t have a choice. I was 100% sure I wasn’t gonna find anything redeeming in Baltimore city. But I did. There was a point in the day where we were all sprawled out, our backs against the side of the hill. In an attempt to distract myself from the itching in my legs and the ants in my pants, I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I saw this:

I was surprised, to say the least. I didn’t expect to find a single angle of the city I could call “beautiful,” but I found one. Despite how negative I feel about cities in general, there’s a side to Baltimore — a side that might only be visible while laying against Federal Hill — that is truly breathtaking. While I’m still not looking forward to a drive back into downtown, I can assure you that I am very much looking forward to the view.

Grass Stains

I’m covered in them. I itch, too. That’s the funny thing about grass; it looks so comfy and inviting, but you know the moment you sprawl out on the lawn you’re gonna be covered in insects and dirt and whatever else has been waiting for you to flop in it. Then your clothes are a mess and your skin crawls and you kick yourself for ever thinking the grass looked inviting in the first place. That’s how I feel when I look at grass. You know those signs that say, “Keep off the you-know-what?” Yeah… maybe they’re on to something….