11/28/10 a collection of prints
Let's face it, going to see art anytime is fabulous. It's arty, it's topsy-turvy, it's giddy and florescent and fun--it's little pieces of metal and wood and paper and flecks and blobs of paint and other colors spread and strewn over their matrices so as to wake you up & draw your attention--first to itself, and then to the world around you that it is commenting on. Too abstract? Linoleum cut story prints, flat and black and heavy, I like how block prints are so dark, like heavy shadows, like shadow puppets. And the painted colors, not sure what process that was, the panoramic nature shots, and how did she decide which roots under the washed river bank to paint? And the polymer prints, chickens around a yard, chickens!!! I so want to do art around chickens (but for now, I'll have to focus on songbirds), and the poem on the weird metal cardboard wood shapies, like a disassebled letterpress with poetry in two languages, the warms of wood and paper, and the cool of sheetmetal and ink. Warm and cool, shredded and burnished, sanded and filed. One of a kind books. What if I made a book and it was only for a one-time reading, or only to be read at a certain place, a certain exhibit. Prints are great when they make you think about the world, about art, about yourself.