Chillaxing, maxing, relaxing all cool while I'm splattering some canvases inside of school.

It seems as if everyone’s been writing lovely posts about the effervescence of a new year and the promise that it brings lately, and I’m inclined to agree. Thing is, the academic in me never really feels as if the new year is upon us until the first day of classes for the spring semester. Prior to this, I’ve been doing my Christmas holiday hobo thing (pajama pants, lazy lounging, zero in terms of productivity) but come the usual call of the 6am alarm clock and I’m suddenly rearing to go on all of my “resolutions.” (Resolutions in “quotes” since, ugh, the very idea of making a list of things one should improve upon usually sounds as if you’re destined for failure — but we’re all human here, n’est-ce pas?) Exercise more! Monitor my emotional well-being! Monitor my free time productively and finally stock up my Etsy shop! Finish all those commissions! Top my excellent GPA last semester with an even better one this semester! (Oh yeah, 4.0, you are in my sights.) And, of course, the very thing that brought me here: make more blog posts.

Of course, that’s something I’ve been puzzling about for the past few weeks, since I’m not even sure what I should be talking/trending about anyway. Although I said that this was a crap-shoot “tuna fish salad” blog, it’s quite clear that I always return to the subject of art, the manufacture thereof, and my relationship with the creative process. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a good outlet to talk about it in school or maybe I’m just a pretentious twat. Either way, that is apparently what I’m drawn to talking about in this place — but those times when I feel as if I can produce such content seems few and far between. Does that mean I should change content? Nah, I don’t know about that. I do know what I should do, though: endeavor to show more of my artwork (which, in turn, means I should get to town on properly documenting my work!) and talk about other work that’s really appealing to me right now. Since I clearly haven’t gotten off my butt to order some good tungsten bulbs for the school’s shooting booth, though, I think I’ll go on the latter.

When I read Design*Sponge today (a perennial favorite in my Google Reader, mind you), it was a blitz of catch-up — which explains, by the by, how I hadn’t managed to catch this beautiful post on the work of Emily Ann Nachison until almost a week later. I feel as if the installation is the twenty-first century’s art form, the kind of thing that all of us regardless of specialization are supposed to be gonzo about. I’ve only done an installation once, based on the concept of ownership and the staking of claim so associated with it, and although I’m not entirely sure it’s my raison d’etre, I always appreciate when I see it in the gallery. This particular specimen of Nachison’s work is as delicate as it is expansive; although its detailing looks to be fine and fragile (with objects that are light, airy, and yet available — camouflage netting and string, anyone?) , the mass of the entire installation is so much that the viewer is forced to encounter it. Nachison’s online portfolio places the installation within this wider context of nature, a self-professed “mythology,” and an interest in fibers and other non-traditional materials (although arguably, what is traditional in the context of media anymore?). Basically: it’s cool stuff. Look at it.