Today, I found myself struggling to complete my African Islamic Art and Architecture reading with tears streaming down my face. Obviously, I was sad for some reason, but it was more frustrating than anything. What the heck is wrong with me? I have no real right to be upset. I make enough money to live on my own (for the most part), I am able to get a good education, I see my family regularly, I have friends even if I don't see them much, and I'm studying material that I love, even if I don't always like it. So seriously, what gives?
I think a problem with our culture is that we always want more. No matter what we achieve, there is another step. You graduate from college? Great, now go get a job or go to graduate school. You get an A on a paper? Great, now go present it at a conference. You're successful in school? Good for you, now go excel socially. You have everything you could possibly need in life? No you don't, you need more experiences to add to what you already have. By the time we reach adulthood this has become so ingrained into our very nature that no matter what we do, we're never satisfied.
Anyways, I don't really know where this blog post was going and I should probably go back to my homework. Actually, I should probably find some handy quote or verse that talks about waiting or being satisfied in the now or some such thing. But that's part of why I feel this way. I'm tired of pretending to be perfect all the time, and happy, and responsible. So now I'm just going to say that yes, I'm sad, and upset, and I want more out of life than I have no matter how selfish that is. I guess that's that.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Crying over art
I hope that art always makes me cry.
This may seem to be an odd statement, but it's something that I find completely true. I have often said to myself that when I stop crying about art, I need to find a new career. I've been in a bit of a funk lately about a lot of things, but I've also been discouraged about my career and my future. Maybe this is normal, but it seems to come at an odd time. I just finished my first year of graduate school and did well. I have three positions this summer that will teach me a lot and look great on my CV. Still, I find myself inexplicably down in the dumps and discouraged. So tonight, rather than worry about articles I haven't written or published yet, teaching expertise I don't have, trips I haven't taken, and a future that is uncertain, I decided to utilize the Google Art Project and cry over some art.
The Google Art Project is an invaluable tool for teaching and exploring. I find that the GAP lets me feel like I'm close to the artists and works in a way that almost makes up for not being able to travel. So tonight, I revisited some of my favorites and made myself remember just why I decided to become an art historian.
I guess sometimes you just have to go back to the beginning to know why you do something. For me, that always means going back to the art and that emotional connection that I have with works, whether they be sculptures, paintings, or something else entirely. That is my motivation and that is something that I pray I will never lose, even if I don't know where I'm going from here.
I'll close with a Bible verse that my Big just posted that partially inspired this post.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." -Jeremiah 29:11
This may seem to be an odd statement, but it's something that I find completely true. I have often said to myself that when I stop crying about art, I need to find a new career. I've been in a bit of a funk lately about a lot of things, but I've also been discouraged about my career and my future. Maybe this is normal, but it seems to come at an odd time. I just finished my first year of graduate school and did well. I have three positions this summer that will teach me a lot and look great on my CV. Still, I find myself inexplicably down in the dumps and discouraged. So tonight, rather than worry about articles I haven't written or published yet, teaching expertise I don't have, trips I haven't taken, and a future that is uncertain, I decided to utilize the Google Art Project and cry over some art.
The Google Art Project is an invaluable tool for teaching and exploring. I find that the GAP lets me feel like I'm close to the artists and works in a way that almost makes up for not being able to travel. So tonight, I revisited some of my favorites and made myself remember just why I decided to become an art historian.
Michelangelo Buonarroti, The Doni Tondo, c. 1507
Obviously, I love Michelangelo as a sculptor, but his use of color will never cease to knock me over. I really wish they had some of the Sistine Chapel frescoes or drawings on the GAP, but this tondo is still striking. The vibrancy of the colors, the folds in the draperies, the contrasting tones...I could look for ages and never get tired of it. Basically, I am going to be an emotional mess the first time I see the Sistine Chapel in person. (disclaimer: this work is in the Uffizi in Florence and not in Rome. I simply compare it to the Sistine Chapel for the purpose of the color comparison)
Balthasar Griessmann, Ivory Goblet, c. 1680
I love sculpture...usually larger marble works, but sadly those works are better experienced in person. However, I'm developing an affection for small ivory and wood carvings, and this goblet brought me to tears. The intricacy of this small scale carving just caught me by surprise and before I knew it I was tearing up. It's beautiful and sometimes that's all that's important.
Michelangelo Buonarroti, Studies for a Holy Family, 1505
With a lot of Early Modern artists (generally speaking, Renaissance and Baroque), the final works were the result of a workshop where the contribution of the artist to the final work varied widely based on commission, size, payment, etc. This was true of many of my favorite sculptors. That makes preparatory works, such as models or sketches, all the more precious and emotional to me because they are one place where I can be sure to see the hand of the artist. This sketch by Michelangelo is gorgeous and it makes me so excited to see some of his sketches in person in the very near future.
Vincent van Gogh, The Bedroom, 1888
Vincent van Gogh makes me very emotional in general. I know he is probably one of the most popular artists to the average art viewer, beginning art historians, pretty much every hipster on the planet, etc. However, van Gogh ties in to some of my personal history in a way that will always make tears threaten to fall. The tactile presence of his works just further emphasizes my emotional connections to the works. Here, in one of my favorite paintings of van Gogh's bedroom in Arles, the brushstrokes seem to leap from the canvas and declare van Gogh's authorship. Again, I will be an emotional mess when I see van Gogh's works in person.
Vincent van Gogh, Self Portrait, 1887
One of the things I love most about van Gogh are his self portraits. I can't help it...I connect with artists and I study, and I spent a semester examining van Gogh's self portraits and his letters and the sense of searching for truth and self that I personally found in both the portraits and the letters is something that resounds with me. I could spend hours staring into van Gogh's eyes in his self portraits...and sometimes I have.
I guess sometimes you just have to go back to the beginning to know why you do something. For me, that always means going back to the art and that emotional connection that I have with works, whether they be sculptures, paintings, or something else entirely. That is my motivation and that is something that I pray I will never lose, even if I don't know where I'm going from here.
I'll close with a Bible verse that my Big just posted that partially inspired this post.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." -Jeremiah 29:11
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Perspective
As an art historian, I talk about perspective a lot. The perspective of the viewer, the perspective of the artist, atmospheric perspective, linear perspective...the list goes on. Yesterday, however, I had a moment that opened my eyes to just how vital a change in perspective can be.
It all started with a W-2 form (don't all the best stories?). You see, I never got mine. I spent last week tearing up my apartment, sure that it must be somewhere in one of these piles of paper since I'm basically a packrat and never throw anything away. Long story short, I actually never did get one. Somehow my apartment number was entered as B06, not 1306, and I eventually managed to track someone down who figured that out for me. Success! So, now I knew where my W-2 form was...which was not in my hand, but rather in some random building on a side of KU's campus I'd never even ventured to. Still, it was a lovely day, so I left the museum and set out on my trek to strange new lands.
You may think that I'm exaggerating here, but really, I was taken aback by this whole area of campus I never knew existed. Sure, I knew the campanile was up on the hill - I hear it about a zillion times a day - and I knew there was a large park area right behind the museum, but imagine my surprise when I'm stumbling down what feels like the hundredth flight of stairs of my walk (yesterday was a rather clumsy day for me) and suddenly, spread across my vision in a slight valley is a beautiful little lake, surrounded by emerald green grass and topped with lily pads. I literally stopped in my tracks. I thought that I was hallucinating images from my lesson about Impressionism for the week. It was like walking into a Monet in the middle of Kansas, and not just that, but in the middle of the campus of the University of Kansas. It put a smile on my face.
Eventually, I continued on my way. I thought people were probably wondering about this random red-headed girl in the multicolored scarf who stood stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk for a good five minutes. I eventually found the building I was looking for, flashed my ID, and got my W-2, no problem. Time to wander back over the hills to my familiar territory of Mississippi Street.
I was walking back, enjoying the day and the sense of newness, when I reached the top of a hill and suddenly saw before me the campus of the University of Kansas. Now, the campus is large enough that you can't really see all of it at once, but at this moment I saw more at one time than I ever had. And it was beautiful. For this homesick Horned Frog, it was a revelation. I will (and have) talk anyone's ear off about how beautiful TCU's campus is. I can bore you to death with minutia of the things I love about the campus and memories I have of specific locations. TCU was my home in a way I never expected it to be, and I have been so resistant to becoming a Jayhawk, to being at KU, because I didn't want to lose that part of myself, that special part of my past. Yesterday, standing there, looking the campus that opened up before me in a way so different from TCU, my perspective changed.
Yes, I will always be a Horned Frog. Yes, I will always bleed purple. You had better believe that come September 16th I will be decked out in my purple cheering on my Frogs in the stadium in Lawrence. But that's not all of who I am anymore. I'm growing up. I am a graduate student now. I'm learning new things, about the world, about art history, and about myself. I'm studying at the University of Kansas and there's nowhere I'd rather be pursuing my future. And that is a pretty amazing perspective to have.
It all started with a W-2 form (don't all the best stories?). You see, I never got mine. I spent last week tearing up my apartment, sure that it must be somewhere in one of these piles of paper since I'm basically a packrat and never throw anything away. Long story short, I actually never did get one. Somehow my apartment number was entered as B06, not 1306, and I eventually managed to track someone down who figured that out for me. Success! So, now I knew where my W-2 form was...which was not in my hand, but rather in some random building on a side of KU's campus I'd never even ventured to. Still, it was a lovely day, so I left the museum and set out on my trek to strange new lands.
You may think that I'm exaggerating here, but really, I was taken aback by this whole area of campus I never knew existed. Sure, I knew the campanile was up on the hill - I hear it about a zillion times a day - and I knew there was a large park area right behind the museum, but imagine my surprise when I'm stumbling down what feels like the hundredth flight of stairs of my walk (yesterday was a rather clumsy day for me) and suddenly, spread across my vision in a slight valley is a beautiful little lake, surrounded by emerald green grass and topped with lily pads. I literally stopped in my tracks. I thought that I was hallucinating images from my lesson about Impressionism for the week. It was like walking into a Monet in the middle of Kansas, and not just that, but in the middle of the campus of the University of Kansas. It put a smile on my face.
Eventually, I continued on my way. I thought people were probably wondering about this random red-headed girl in the multicolored scarf who stood stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk for a good five minutes. I eventually found the building I was looking for, flashed my ID, and got my W-2, no problem. Time to wander back over the hills to my familiar territory of Mississippi Street.
I was walking back, enjoying the day and the sense of newness, when I reached the top of a hill and suddenly saw before me the campus of the University of Kansas. Now, the campus is large enough that you can't really see all of it at once, but at this moment I saw more at one time than I ever had. And it was beautiful. For this homesick Horned Frog, it was a revelation. I will (and have) talk anyone's ear off about how beautiful TCU's campus is. I can bore you to death with minutia of the things I love about the campus and memories I have of specific locations. TCU was my home in a way I never expected it to be, and I have been so resistant to becoming a Jayhawk, to being at KU, because I didn't want to lose that part of myself, that special part of my past. Yesterday, standing there, looking the campus that opened up before me in a way so different from TCU, my perspective changed.
Yes, I will always be a Horned Frog. Yes, I will always bleed purple. You had better believe that come September 16th I will be decked out in my purple cheering on my Frogs in the stadium in Lawrence. But that's not all of who I am anymore. I'm growing up. I am a graduate student now. I'm learning new things, about the world, about art history, and about myself. I'm studying at the University of Kansas and there's nowhere I'd rather be pursuing my future. And that is a pretty amazing perspective to have.
Friday, January 13, 2012
The Spaghetti Squash Experiment
So, I decided in 2012 that I wouldn't be scared of trying new things. Today, I faced my first challenge...a new type of food! I'd seen dishes of spaghetti squash on Pinterest and elsewhere, and I was intrigued. It seemed relatively easy to make, sounded tasty, and it's good for you! I was sold.
Here is what a spaghetti squash looks like:
I was very excited to find one for a good price while grocery shopping today. So, I came home and looked up recipes. The one I chose was an Emeril recipe for Herbed Spaghetti Squash. I choose it because it was fairly basic and I knew I'd be able to really taste the squash itself, which I was curious about. So, I turn the oven on and get started. Very quickly, I ran into some trouble. You see, the first thing you're meant to do is cut the squash in half. Emeril makes it seem like no big deal, but he apparently wasn't counting on me. You see, I had an issue with this step. Mostly, I just have an issue with knives in general after cutting my finger a few years ago. However, as a result of that issue I don't have a set of culinary knives. I have a grand total of five knives: a bread knife, a serrated knife, a fish knife, and two paring knives. So, you can see where I ran into trouble...
Still, I eventually cut it in half. Victory!
The next step was to steam it in the oven for forty-five minutes. Piece of cake. I might have burnt my finger with the steam as I took it out, but hey, it's the price of culinary innovation. I turned the squash over and put it in for another 15 minutes.
As the squash continued to cook, I quickly sauteed some shrimp in olive oil and set them aside. Finally, the squash was ready! I took it out of the oven and let it cool for a few minutes. I was very impatient to see how it turned out! I scooped out the seeds and then ran a fork over the inside to pull the 'spaghetti' out. I was amazed with the results.
Once I'd removed all of the insides, I placed them in a skillet with a little butter, some parsley, and salt and pepper. I tossed it all together and then put a serving in a bowl with some shrimp on top. Voila!
I wasn't sure what to expect in terms of taste. I'm not sure if it needed to steam longer (my squash was a bit bigger than the recipe called for), but it still had a crunchy texture. It was a bit like eating carrots, honestly. Which is fine, because I like carrots! There is a ton of squash leftover so I think I'll try it some different ways in the coming days. However, I would definitely make it again, though only on a weekend because it does take a while to cook.
So, there you have it! First new thing of 2012! I can't wait to see what else I will try this year.
Here is what a spaghetti squash looks like:
I was very excited to find one for a good price while grocery shopping today. So, I came home and looked up recipes. The one I chose was an Emeril recipe for Herbed Spaghetti Squash. I choose it because it was fairly basic and I knew I'd be able to really taste the squash itself, which I was curious about. So, I turn the oven on and get started. Very quickly, I ran into some trouble. You see, the first thing you're meant to do is cut the squash in half. Emeril makes it seem like no big deal, but he apparently wasn't counting on me. You see, I had an issue with this step. Mostly, I just have an issue with knives in general after cutting my finger a few years ago. However, as a result of that issue I don't have a set of culinary knives. I have a grand total of five knives: a bread knife, a serrated knife, a fish knife, and two paring knives. So, you can see where I ran into trouble...
Still, I eventually cut it in half. Victory!
The next step was to steam it in the oven for forty-five minutes. Piece of cake. I might have burnt my finger with the steam as I took it out, but hey, it's the price of culinary innovation. I turned the squash over and put it in for another 15 minutes.
As the squash continued to cook, I quickly sauteed some shrimp in olive oil and set them aside. Finally, the squash was ready! I took it out of the oven and let it cool for a few minutes. I was very impatient to see how it turned out! I scooped out the seeds and then ran a fork over the inside to pull the 'spaghetti' out. I was amazed with the results.
Once I'd removed all of the insides, I placed them in a skillet with a little butter, some parsley, and salt and pepper. I tossed it all together and then put a serving in a bowl with some shrimp on top. Voila!
I wasn't sure what to expect in terms of taste. I'm not sure if it needed to steam longer (my squash was a bit bigger than the recipe called for), but it still had a crunchy texture. It was a bit like eating carrots, honestly. Which is fine, because I like carrots! There is a ton of squash leftover so I think I'll try it some different ways in the coming days. However, I would definitely make it again, though only on a weekend because it does take a while to cook.
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