What is the Border Between Art and Racism?

What is the border between art and racism? For that matter, how do we distinguish an artist from a fine crafter?

Today I was perusing my Instagram, looking for inspiration in the digital world. I was trying to see the world through the eyes of different people from different walks of life. I was not looking for anything in particular or controversial.

As one photo led me to another, I discovered an account belonging to an aspiring makeup artist. As I scrolled down through an endless catalog of perfectly sculpted eyebrows and expertly outline lips, I came across this image:

The makeup work was credited to Instagram user thealexbox.

There were a number of comments (149 of them). Many stated that the makeup is impeccable and flawless; a fine example of wonderful artistic work. Some noted that it was controversial but did not go into the details. Then of course there were comments about black face. Some observed that although it looked like black face, it was clearly not meant to be racist. It was "artistic". Of course others still, pointed out that this was a clear cut case of black face and that clearly historical knowledge about the significance of black face was lost to the general audience of this particular photo blog.

One user wrote, "This is art and art is controversial! It's not about the artist or artwork, cuz its fking gorgeous. Its all in what lies beneath the perceptions and deceptions of the audience."

To me, ART IS ABOUT THE ARTIST!

The craftsmanship involved in this work is incredible; clearly a sign that the maker is a skilled crafter. However, on the basis of skill alone, this work would only be considered a craft. To categorize this as art, you must consider that the marker/artist has/had an intention. Whether that intention was to be controversial (the artist knowingly used racially charged subject matter to make people think) or not to be controversial  (the artist was ignorant or overlooked the historical significance), I cannot say. I don't know enough about the maker to make up my mind. I am leaning toward the latter.

Although I can appreciate the immense skill of this work, I am still offended about the subject matter. Artists have a responsibility to become informed. Art is a powerful tool and to merely claim ignorance is to do a disservice to the field. Ignorance is not an excuse.

I did a little more digging and found thealexbox. As I wandered through her photographs, I could immediately see great talent.

I came across the image above. Most comments were in support of the craft. Out of the 63 comments left, only a handful suggested that this was offensive. Remarks claiming a racist connotation to the image, were followed by fanatics that dismissed the work as anything offensive and instead offered that any ties to racism were purely the overactive imagination of trouble starters.

I also found an additional image: (Same girl in white makeup)

I don't think that my understanding of the work was any more or less enhanced by the diptych. I don't think that the artist was at all aware or concerned about what her makeup work could mean or what ties it had to historical events. It was just a cool idea that she had for a makeup job.

Earlier today, I read an article about Pop Culture and bad taste. Perhaps thats relevant to this work too.
http://www.npr.org/blogs/therecord/2013/07/02/198097817/the-record-when-pop-stars-flirt-with-danger

I welcome any comments or insights into this subject matter.

This means nothing at all...

People have been coming up to me remarking on the hair change. I find it interesting that women always ask me how other people (especially a significant other) have been reacting to my hair. Men, on the other hand, mostly ask me how I feel with short hair.

Are we culturally programed as women, to directly relate our own looks to how others will react? Women are stereotypically known to be the ones that take hours in the bathroom. We own a lot of shoes, spend hours agonizing about what we are going to wear, constantly obsess with being objects of made-up perfection.

Men, seemingly, just throw things on. Maybe put a handful of product in their hair, slip on one of the 5-6 pairs of shoes and race out the door.

I've known this to be the case for a while. Its not that I am suddenly coming into this knowledge. Although I don't normally wear make-up (besides the rare occasional and random wig and eyelash day), I have been known to change my outfit at least a half dozen times before frantically running out the door. The short hair isn't exactly alleviating my need to make sure that I am not a complete embarrassment when I walk out into public. I wonder though, if its all necessary.

What I noticed most about the whole experience, is that I can no longer hide behind my hair. My hair isn't a way for me to hide my face. Every inch of my head is noticed. My ears, my nose, my random beauty marks and moles; all public parts now.

In a sense, this hair is a way for me to deal with my insecurities. It makes me come to terms with my big cheeks, cartoonishly round head, short neck and giant lips. And I'm ok with that.

Day 7

Day 6

Day 5

The Return of Photo a Day Project

Well, it might be back after all. My self-portrait a day project ended abruptly last year due to time constraints and lack of discipline. Plus, it was hard to become a new person every day through wigs, makeup and time.

Let see how long I can keep this up. It takes 21 days to make or break a habit.

Here is Day 4 of my hair regrowth journey.

(And what a terrible photo it is.)

Day 3

Waking Up on Day 2

Waking up on day two felt great. My second shower sans hair was amazing. No more styling my hair , no more shampoo, no more trying to impress everyone with the lack of hair styling knowledge.

Its just me now. I like who I am. I like what I look like. For the first time...

Rebirth: A New Beginning.

My palms had been sweating all day. Anything I touched was instantly covered in a thin layer of moisture. Typing on a keyboard and touching the mouse all day, was torture. I must have gone through half a box of tissues, made two dozen trips to the bathroom and checked my phone constantly. Until that day, I did not know how many seconds were in a minute or minutes in an hour; an eternal amount. I never knew a minute lasted that long.

The previous night and then all day long I was in an excited anxious and nervous state. I was mourning for something I had not yet lost while at the same time, trying to convince myself that it had no sentimental or essential value to me.

Five o'clock came at a nightmarishly slow pace. I gathered up my things. Stood up, grabbed a chunk of my hair, and quietly proclaimed to the coworkers sitting closest to me, "Say good-bye to this mess. Come Tuesday I may look a whole lot different."

It was 2 days since my cousin lost his battle with pancreatic cancer and almost 2 years since my good friend's death from ovarian cancer.

I drove home in a daze. The cool air from the air conditioner felt nice on my face and feet. My rear left blinker had ceased to function. I missed the fresh air flowing through my hair but I could not chance it getting all tangled. I reached into it. I curled it around my left index finger. I put it to my lips and felt each strand tickle my lips. "I hope someone else loves it and cares for it better than I do/did", I thought to myself.

I got in the shower. I attempted to get dressed but wondered what would look best on me when that night's events were over. My hands started sweating. Hand washing was not alleviating the symptoms. I was not prepared to drive as my hands would slip off the wheel thanks to the sweating. I asked Ryan to please take us to the event.

The auditorium was full of people. All faces were a blur. My heart raced. Palms; sweaty.

The speaker recounted the story of his and his wife's journey through cancer and chemo. My hands sweaty as ever. Ryan, sitting next to me, requested that I put my hand on his lap. My hands got worse. Finally the speech was over. Folks were invited to ascend the stage and get their hair clipped.

I stood at the foot of the stage waiting to go on and get things over with. Palms sweating, I stood their nervously. Mount came over to the rescue me from my fear. We joked around and made light of the situation.

After patiently waiting for my turn (and being skipped over by a few overly zealous people), I climbed into the hard white chair. My glasses had to come off as they would be in the way. The crowd of 100+ suddenly became blurry. The sound of the buzzers hummed in my ear. For the next 5-10 minutes, without the mirror or my vision, my aesthetic fate was at the mercy of the barber, the clippers and the crowd.

Random claps and shouts of support signaled the end of my experience. I put my glasses on and took the smock of, walked to the stairs and got off stage. I was showered with support and compliments. I still had no idea what I looked like and didn't care.

 And thats the start of my new beginning.

 

If you would like to know more about the event I participated in and if you'd like to donate to a great cause, check out the following site and contribute.

http://www.crowdrise.com/ChemoToxic/fundraiser/ronagelman

To New Beginnings

I cannot believe it has been 3 years since I posted here. Thats a shame. Here's to a new year and some new posts. I am hoping that this becomes a part of my daily activities.

Media Education... Our Love/Hate Relationship with Sex and Violence

I saw Machete last night. (For those of you not familiar you can check out the link (as long as it is active)).

Today I watched a documentary; Inside Deep Throat. (Once again a link for those unfamiliar with either the documentary of the movie that is it documenting.)

I am constantly in awe of the country's/our culture's inability to reconcile rational and objective thoughts dealing with Sex and Violence and what impacts the two truly have on our day to day lives.

Violence: We've all watched violence in movies. Slapstick violence (Laurel and Hardy movies), gruesome violence (the Saw Movies), thriller violence (Psycho) and any other movies in between. We are exposed to violence everywhere. The point is that it is not hard to find yourself watching a movie with explicit violence or playing a video game that incorporated violence against inanimate objects, alien races, altered humans (ie Zombies) and even other humans as well. It is not at all difficult to gain access to media that includes violence and although we preach to children that violence against your fellow man is looked down upon, we still turn on the TV, sit our kids in front of it and let their brains melt to the titillating story telling phenomena that are the Powerpuff Girls, Samurai Jack and Invader Zim. (At this point I would like to state that I have enjoyed and still enjoy all these shows and think that they are beautifully and artistically done... the artistry is not in question here.)

There is countless research out there that suggests and supports that violence in cartoons, movies and video games (as well as immediate environment) causes mental and social problems for children (and even adults). However despite the mounting evidence that suggests that violence in media is in fact bad for you, there is little to no violence education and more importantly little to no violence censorship when it comes to children's programing. Adults (as in parents and legal guardians) are strongly encouraged to teach their kids about NOT practicing violent acts and the difference between media and real violence.


Sex: Yes, we all watch sex scenes. More often than not there are sex scenes in movies and the envelope for what is appropriate on the screen is constantly being pushed. We've gone from seeing Lucy and Desi sleeping in separate beds to Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss in a Matrix sex scene. We are repeatedly bombarded with sexually explicit ads on giant billboards and in magazines. We have stars who are barely out of their diapers represented in sexually suggestive ways. We even have little children dressing up as beauty queens and walking around on the cat walk in bikinis with pound of makeup on.


HOWEVER, despite all the sexually explicit and suggestive material out there, sexual content in mainstream movies cannot come close to the severity of the type of violence we see in movies. AND sexual education and freedom to openly speak about sex is taboo. Sex education in this country is at times controversial. Many places teach sexual abstinence in schools and fight more progressive views/ideas such as handing out condoms to school children. Parents do not feel comfortable when it comes to talking to their kids about sex (yet are more than willing to play a round of Splinter Cell with their already sexually active yet unprotected children).

Getting your hands on media containing "mature sexual content" requires you to go to a specialty shop. No specialty shop exists for violence (unless you count gun stores). Meanwhile you can own a gun at about age 12 yet you cannot own a porno mag or see live nude girls till you are 18.

Most sexuality in movies is surrounded in violence (such as sex before or after dangerous and violent situations, forced sex and anything and everything in between). We are subjected to violent language almost freely but sexuality explicit language is minimal at best.

To me it is all ironic, sad and a bit scary that we chose to focus on such terrible parts of human nature and emotion and fail to acknowledge and celebrate something as beautiful as sex and sexual relationships and intimacy. I am taken aback at how we chose to indulge in all the ugliness that we are capable of and very little in all the beauty.

So whats the point? Well I don't know if I have a specific point. Maybe I am just making observations on something that I find alarming and intriguing. Perhaps I am recollecting all the times I've heard, "Make love not war" and remarking (mainly to myself) how that message never really stuck. How a love revolution failed and has succumbed to violence and greed. Or perhaps I am trying to say that you should see both those movies for various reasons and perhaps make your own observation about the irony in our society.

A Seriously Delayed Un-update

Its been a while since I've done anything substantial in my world of art making. Quite honestly, between the thesis project and my horrible job job, my photographic freethinking creativity has been somewhat drained. I pick up my camera and dread what I may, or may not photograph.

Recently I had a conversation with someone new to photography about the practice. He asked me how one becomes a photographer. The best answer I could come up with is this: Everyone has the ability to look at the world and find something beautiful/memorable/meaningful. They associate the experience before them with an emotion or a sentimental point in time so they pick up their camera and snap a picture and when it comes out they look at it and are disappointed that the sunset does not look as impressive as they remember in their head. Obviously the camera is blamed for the lack of sentimental image reproduction. Cameras are just there as a tool. Like a hammer, cameras by themselves, are objects. What a photographer does is uses the camera tool as a way to elicit emotional and mental responses.

I think what has happened to me, is that I, at this point, am no longer able to use the camera as an effective tool for the purpose of story telling. I am using it to create photographic visions for other people's ideas and not so much my own. I am craving the free flow of thought as expressed through my favorite medium, but at the moment it does not come.

What I am attempting instead, is a body of Assemblage works that closely tie in with my recent experiences in life (mainly the dating scene). I am hoping to come up with 24-36 pieces by the end of the year and I hope that they inspire someone's imagination.

So, in conclusion, I am alive, I am thinking about art and I am longing for the day I can once again freely and confidently express myself through photography. In the meanwhile, I am keeping busy.

A View from a Parking Lot

Here are some images from my show.

It was a learning experience and has me thinking even more about new uses for new spaces.

Here are some views for everyone to enjoy.

To Loath Thyself

Is it possible to make work that you hate and still make good work? Hate is as strong of an emotion as love.

I recall making work that angered a lot of people. I particularly hated the work. Not so much the final piece but the whole process of coming up with the idea and creating it. However I loved that the work elicited such strong emotions from the audience. A few people walked away from it understanding the goal and appreciating that I just put then through 8 minutes or so of hell. It was a mad science experiment influenced by my attitude towards some pretty insane circumstances. I was hateful and angry and I created work that people hated and were angry over. I would most certainly do it again.

That experience, however, is not what I am referring to here. What I am interested in is if a work can me successfully made but with the artist hating the out come?

I find myself going back to work I did in the past and absolutely saying to myself "what was I thinking, I HATE this thing" while simultaneously people coming up to me saying that they love what I did. Its a compliment for sure and I appreciate the insight my audience has. I just feel a strong aversion to my own work.

Perhaps that is precisely what keeps me making more and new work. I try to smooth out and rethink ideas and executions of work. Could my aversion of my own work be the thing that keeps me going and striving to go farther and continue on the path of art making? Time will tell.

Good-Bye Irving Penn

Irving Penn died today. He was 92 years old.

I don't know what else to say about a great photographer who created a lot of amazing work, that has not already been said by folks who are a lot more qualified to write and speak about him. I think his work and the reputation of his kindness speaks for itself. I know that if I were even a tenth of a percent as talented as Penn was, I'd be happy.

So, enjoy the following image by the late and great, Irving Penn, a fellow Gemini.

ITS UPDATE TIME!!!

Thesis: I have a personal deadline of September 25 for my second draft. I feel like I am almost there just the little nitty gritty work is eating up all my time.

Also, am I going with a hard cover or a soft cover? No idea yet. Nor do I know what I want to write for my artist statement.


Deep breathes. The finish line is almost in sight.


"Brave, brave Sir Robin. He bravely ran away."

Mental Notes

1> Be more positive. (Maybe I need to say that over and over constantly until I believe it).

2> Post more of my own images...

3> Make more images (that are not for, or having to do with, work).

4> Find more time to read, see, observe. I have been very lax in that regard. BIG NO NO!

5> Be more positive!

Book Layout Experience...

Place, place, place, place, place, DELETE, DELETE, DELETE, place, place, place, place, DELETE, DELETE, DELETE, DELETE.

I Think I Am Gonna Be Sick!

What do you say to a person that you've admired for so long when you first meet them?

I dunno but lets see if I don't vomit all over myself or say something completely offhand, unrelated and juvenile.

Meanwhile I could be setting myself up for disaster for no reason. He might not be coming up anyway and I may not meet him even if he does.

A Pledge Being Realized

On April 27, 2008 I made a post, a pledge, to myself that I would exhibit my work more often and at more places.

To my surprise and joy that is exactly what I have been doing this year. So far my CV is coming along.

I am not claiming that I've taken every opportunity (I have to work on that confidence thing I've been hearing about). However, I have been doing my best to take as many opportunities as I am comfortable with.

Here is to making the rest of 2009 a successful time for my budding art (and thing) making career.