Reblog Number 7
The photo of this collage is one I also took in my studio. Right after I did it. Solo Show. Ceres Gallery. New York. Jacque Cousteau in a glass.
Archives for posts with tag: Orion Pictures
Reblog Number Six
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. Solo Show. New York.
This collage contains a huge flower in the foreground, in front of a very large crowd in an outside environment. Like an outdoor concert. The texture of the flower is similar to the “texture” of the crowd, linking them in an almost indecipherable mass of dots.
I have no idea how to comment on this, other than to say I love how two disparate subjects could look alike and form an abstraction.
More later on how this idea formed the making of these collages, rather than my focusing on the eerie, sometimes funny subject matter that does come up.
Reblog Number Five
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
Very recently, I purchased an infrared sauna. Now, this idea came to me from my allergist who told me it would clear the toxins from my body, such as environmental toxins, like metal and plastic. He also told me it would help relieve a sinus problem I have had for a very long time.
I even heard from some metaphysically minded folks that infrared sauna use would eliminate “bad energy.” Such as someone glaring at you in the supermarket, which apparently goes into your system. Or more blatant bad events, like a car accident or a fight with your spouse. Or someone’s jealously that manifests into so-called “thought evil” doing your body harm.
Infrared waves (heat waves) go through the sauna, and unlike a regular sauna, a person doesn’t get as hot. But profuse sweating occurs. The toxins come out of the…
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Reblog Number Four
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
Last year when I went to the gym, I was called the Scuba Planker. I did an exercise called The Plank. The Plank is done by placing your elbows on the floor with your forearms in front. You rest the weight of your body on your elbows, supported by your toes, keeping everything else in your body in a straight line off the ground…….holding it for as long as you can. It is very hard. At first I could hold it for 30 seconds, working my way up to holding it for 2 and a half minutes.
It is difficult. I did not want to be doing it except that it is to strengthen the center part of your body. No one in their right mind would want to be totally present while doing it. And because it hurts the longer you…
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Reblog Number Three
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
Here I am again, indulging my fascination with tidal waves. And for those of you who have not been following me and my love of depicting natural disasters, here is a picture of a tidal wave about to wipe out a swimmer.
What I like most about this one is the apparent determination of the swimmer in spite of the tidal wave. She is not letting the fact that a tidal wave is coming deter her from her goal.
This reminds me of all those tasks we dread doing and therefore, we avoid them. If only we did not put them off, we would realize how fast the jobs can be accomplished. It is in procrastinating that we do these tasks more than once. Conceptually doing them over and over, rather than merely marching toward them, like the swimmer.
In our minds…
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Number One Reblog
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
This volcano looks happy! Lots of brightly colored dots coming out of its center! Certainly not harmful, destructive gases, lava and fire! But jelly bellies and grapes and bubbles!
These exclamation points above, both in the collage and in my opening paragraph, are not just because I am an exuberant person.
The printed sentence has no inflection. No tone of voice to soften a neutral comment that could be misinterpreted to mean something harsh. No tone of voice to explain something in a compassionate way. We have two options when we text or email someone. We can end the sentence with an exclamation point or a period.
At the risk of sounding a little nutty, I would rather end a sentence in an exclamation point than have someone take my sentence to mean that I am angry, sad, or dismissive. (It has…
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“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
After soliciting my WordPress “Blog As Gallery” to a few publications in town, I have had some encouraging news about some coverage. I do not know when or where yet.
Therefore, to extend the run of my one hundred (after all, even with a few miscountings in the beginning, I am up to 91…..) I am going to run ten of my most successful blogs starting tomorrow. The ones I think are my most successful in this series of one hundred from the exhibition “Afloat: An Installation.”
After the ten reblog days, I will complete my “Blog As Gallery” with the rest of my one hundred collages. Then, I will move on to a new project. But still post my “stuff” everyday here.
Even though you may have seen these reblogs before, please feel free to add more comments. After all, I do sound like such an authority sometimes! 🙂
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
Since my sinus surgery, I have been eating a lot of Chinese food. The other day, I opened my fortune cookie. I noticed, that at this particular restaurant, the fortunes are so positive! “The Best Mirror Is Often A Good Friend”, “You Have The Makings Of A Winner.”
Other restaurants, not so. This one restaurant gave out cookies that were a little too personal. Positive, but personal. “The Love Of Your Life Is Sitting Next To You”, “You Are Soon Going To Change Your Line Of Work”, “You Will Be Invited To A Small Gathering With Lots Of Spicy Conversation.” Hey, not so close, Buddy!
It had me thinking. What if the fortunes were not only not positive, but downright menacing? Like, “The Man Across From You Is Really A Murderer” or (And you have to get into this: You have to picture yourself opening that cellophane wrapper with some difficulty, and with some degree of expectation, breaking the cookie and smoothing flat the small piece of paper, then struggling to read it), ”Be Careful Around The Next Curve.”
What would you think? I know my wallet has a fortune and its date on it next to every photograph. Fully expecting that the fortune is apt.
If I read “Your Next Business Move Will Be A Serious Mistake” or “Your Sister Is Going To Die In A Mining Accident”, my life would be full of angst and dread!
Let’s open the one that says, “Simplicity Of Character Is The Natural Result Of Profound Thought.”
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
Color relationships. Color is only a color when it is next to another color. For instance, tan can become orange when next to a bluish color. And tan’s orange-ness is washed out when placed near white. In fact, white sucks all color out of what it is placed against. When you are painting a room and you look at a color chip (surrounded by white on the card), the shade appears on the card a shade lighter than it will be when you put the color on the walls. So choose a shade or two lighter than the one you like on the paint store chip card.
I learned color from a disciple of Josef Albers, who made studying color his life’s work. Fred Gregory was in Yale’s M.F.A. program.
I met Fred when I was taking postgraduate classes at Atlanta College of Art. I was in the last Color Theory class Fred taught before he died. I feel lucky to have learned all the things I did: fusion of two different colors, vibration between two colors, a third color appearing between two colors. How to make two different colors look the same when surrounded by two colors. How to make the same color look different surrounded by two colors.
At any rate, color is only color, in relationship to other colors.
“Afloat” Image. Ceres Gallery. New York. Solo Show.
I remember every outfit I have worn on every occasion. It’s not that I pay that much attention to what I throw on. Believe me, some days I go into my closet and drag out just anything. Mostly my Indian patchwork pants when I have nothing in sight to wear.
For instance (and those of you who have heard this before, just go on to the next), I still own the skirt I was wearing when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Not only do I remember the skirt and the blouse, but I still have the skirt and I placed a note on it with a safety pin, so that if something were to happen to me, this madras skirt would be documented. (I no longer have the blouse which was pale pink with smocking across the top.)
I remember what I wore when I first had lunch with my husband. We got lost in the parking lot and I thought it was going to be a great romantic escapade, but when he said something about me stealing his wallet, I was flattened. The dress was filmy and black and white striped with flying triangles all over it. Puffed sleeves. Very Eighties. And by today’s standards, really hideous.
The Earth Shoes, jeans, and Scandinavian sweater I wore at a disco (after I went ice skating) when I met the guy I was to move to Atlanta to be with. And the way my hair looked that night. I remember the womanizer I had an affair with for one year and the lunch we first shared. I wore a Rick Springfield T Shirt, (whoever he is) and tight black jeans. And the blouse I wore when we broke up: coral. A blouse I had spent a lot of money on. And I had had it for years.
The red dress. When my boss made a move on me outside my five-story walk-up. He showed me where Mike Douglas lived, so as to impress me before driving me home.
I have to say, that if someone I love says something negative about what I wear, either about my jewelry or clothes. Or some traumatic event happens while wearing the item, I will never wear it again. My daughter said to me once, when she was little. “Mom, you act like my sweaters have feelings!”
Sam Cook’s Bar Mitzvah. This time I remember what my daughter was wearing. She wasn’t even invited and we made the mistake of bringing her. She wore a pale yellow CP Shades top and pants. She was five.
Anyway, you get the idea. I think pinning the note on the madras skirt I wore when JFK was shot is a little much. As if others value clothes and their memories as much as I do. In a few years I will give it to the Good Will.
Hollis Hildebrand-Mills 