So I want to blame the dog for eating my homework . . . but that would be me lacking verisimilitude.
What really happened? Well, it was animal related - my MIA status.
Snappy, The Evildoer!
It was the cat's fault. All
Her Royal Tailless Snappyness was doing was sleeping . . . possibly purring. This is normal - but where she chose to slumber was unexpected. SO unexpected that I fell down (possible threw myself down) five garage steps until I splayed onto the concrete floor. Somehow, I managed to levitate myself over the cat slumbering on the stairs.
Similar to my garage stairs . . .
Having birthed three children, busted my head and arm open in an all-terrain vehicle accident, several failed childhood suicide attempts . . . I have never felt such searing pain. Mainly in the ankle regions of my appendages.
The Controversial General Hood
We have to put this in chronological perspective as well, because THE VERY DAY BEFORE this a friend and I went to three Civil War Battlefield sights in Franklin, TN and the theme of the day was appendages - the loss thereof, in particular. In fact this friend and I had stayed up all night (again) ruminating over the severity of the war, the injuries, and the deplorable decisions by Hood that lead to the carnage.
The bad timing was that I was loading the car to head into Nashville to crate the TAKE CARE exhibition to prepare for its shipment to Grand Rapids, MI. Needless to say, I didn't make it to that appointment!
So, I and my apparently disconnected legs lay tangled on the concrete. I couldn't breathe, it hurt so much. "It" meaning - everything. My back, my shoulders, my hands and wrists where I had tried to catch myself, but worst of all - below the knees just seared and sang with so much pain they were almost numb. I did some lamaze breathing. I shed tears. I collapsed when I tried to push myself up with my arms.
After about 10 minutes of writhing and gasping, I managed to sit up somewhat and although I couldn't feel how the feet were connected to my legs, I visually assured myself that they were, indeed, there. So - this is good, no? Because: 1) I don't have to wave goodbye to my own leg from the window (as did some of the Confederate and Union soldiers in the war); 2) Well, at this point I couldn't think of a 2nd good thing!
When I felt I could talk I scouted to the van on my bruised behind and retrieved the already packed cell phone. Who to call? My friend was in the house, but she was sleeping 3 levels away with the very loud, highly coveted hurricane fan on . . . in the the cave sleeping chamber . . . no way would she hear my screaming. Humm, also her cell phone was on the charger in the basement so it would do no good to call that phone.
So, I decide to call my husband. He is a PT, if nothing else he can come home and scrape me off the cement. I was so shaky I had a hard time calling the number . . . and, of course, he didn't answer the cell, which meant he was with a patient. I decide this qualifies as an emergency and call the front office - I squeak out that I need Don and that it is an emergency . . . so he leads me through a few toe moving tests and we determine that the right ankle/foot is not broken, but the left probably is. He advises ice. So I crawl back up the steps, get icepacks and lay on the couch. I figure my friend will wake up and can take me to the doctor or when my son gets home he can drive me.
Before that can happen my son calls from school saying he is sick with a fever. So. I can drive with my right foot so I go get him at school . . . he drives home and drops me at the doctor and I get xrays . . . and diagnosed, 1 sprain, another bad sprain and a crushed outer ankle bone (that triangle thingy that sticks out), do the air cast/boot, get painkillers . . . home. My son goes back to the dr. on his own. He has mono. Lauren comes home, sick. Dylan takes her to the doctor. My friend wakes up in this chaos - we laugh as I giggle on my painkillers and we imitate General Hood waving his shoulder stump as he tries to say good bye to his own arm. We are, obviously, evil beings. We have never laughed so hard.
So that was all about 4 weeks ago. I am off the crutches and am down to braces and wraps for the ankle and can hobble almost anywhere. The worst part is trying to walk down stairs. (remember, my studio is down a very steep flight of stairs, I didn't see it for a whole week). If I have been on my feet too long I am exhausted . . . but, you know - it could have been so much worse. For a few days I had the perfect excuse to sit and talk and get giddy on painkillers. Not a bad way for the universe to inform me I better slow down OR ELSE! I found out what OR ELSE meant . . . just like the Fairygod Mother that swoops down and wacks Little Bunny Foo Foo on the head.
LITTLE BUNNY FOO FOO . . .
So that gives you a bit of the story of where I have been . . . not to mention the fact that I lost the information on how to access my very own blog for several weeks . . . I am back on track, back on my feet and there are NO MORE EXCUSES!
You can expect more updates, and the saga of how I am making it to Grand Rapids, MI in the near future!
Entrance to Gallery 114, KCAD- Annette Gates "Colony" Series on Right
Coping Skills by Sher Fick
With the great assistance of the Curator, Sarah Joseph, and her brilliant gallery assistants - we were able to unpack and install the 9 artists exhibition in 2 short days. www.kcad.edu
After 3 weary days in Grand Rapids, MI (I adore that city), I limped home by way of Indiana and was able to enjoy two visits my sister Lisa in Indianapolis and a large family get together as well.
Once home, I prepared 2 birthday parties: Claire's 7th, an American Girl Tea Party, and Dylan's 17th - Gaming/Pizza Party. Lots of help from my sister Susan and Mom & Don's Mom as well!
Adrienne Outlaw's "Fecund Series" Video Installation
What was amazing to me was that the many years of work that Adrienne (www.adrienneoutlaw.com) and I did - actually came to pass. To see our work hung in a professional location, in a professional manner (kudos to myself) - it was astounding and very gratifying.
It stood up admirably against every high-end, contemporary work I saw at ArtPrize.
Although the process was very costly (think: printing for brochures, travel to and from, hotels, gas, food, rental car . . .) - I believe it was worth the expense and time involved. Note: no money has been made by anyone - in fact, all we have encountered is expense and unpaid work time . . . we are doing this in the hope that someone, somewhere, will find the social and economical value of our work and become either future venues and/or collectors. What a shot in the dark!!!! Does this make us stupid?
Libby Rowe's "Womb Worries"
The experience, after 3 years of research and hard work was satisfactory for the most part. I feel I know this work inside and out and have a good feel for the importance of our viewpoint. What seems to be disappointing is the gender bias we are still facing at the dawn of the 21st century. One would think that males in 'art' would have evolved with technologoy - but that is not the case. Those males in 'mid-power' postions were 'not interested in what we [women] had to say.' They looked over the fact that we are a group of 9 highly talented artists. That we cover the gamut of craftsmanship and technique. All that was obliterated and ignored because they felt our message was 'not interesting' to their testosterone brains nor to their students - both male and female. Well guess what - that really chaps my ass! Our exhibition is not only about reproduction (which includes both MALE and FEMALE to get that going - apparently they didn't have sex education in high school), but the scientific and ethical issues which are now facing 21st century parents. The very generation which is bringing forth ground breaking therapies, 'growing' their very own children - that subject is unworthy and below them!
Lindsay Obermeyer's "Shadow Series: The Blues & Red Hot" with Monica Bock's "Fluid/Sac/Cord" in foreground
So, eh hum, I lose major respect for any sculpture male professor who judges an incoming artist on their gender. Grow up Neanderthals!
Open your eyes - you are outnumbered according to the world census records and you will not be pro-creating with anybody if you continue your male chauvinist pig attitudes. Plus - you suck!
I am so proud of each and every one of our artists included in "TAKE CARE" - we prove the addage - those that can DO - Do. . .. finish that phrase on your own if you have the brain power.
Left: Jeanette Mays "A.R.T. series" with Annette Gates "Colony" Series on Right
This crap makes me so tired. There seems to be very little respect in America for artists' time and expenses that they 'in good faith' enact with very SLIM chances of success. There are a few good apples out there - but the way we are treated in the USA is vastly different from artists in Europe. On my recent travels in Europe, when I replied that I was an artist - the people practically bowed to me. Yes - what we do - when it is done well - is sacred and deeply deserving of respect.
Yes - I will make art no matter the price. But does that mean I should be a pauper and GIVE AWAY for free what I have spent money studying to do - I pay for supplies - etc?
It is all so very confusing as I also have many dreams for my children and their educations, which also cost money.
So - I'm back - I did receive a $1,000 grant to reimburse part of my expenses . . . so all in all, I am only about $2,000 in the hole for being part of Art Prize. I am hoping this ends up being a marketing expense and that someone out there sees the value of Art In America - and can free themselves from any bias to art created by women.