Progress

Today in my art criticism class we tried to define progress.

My definition was a little unconventional. I proposed that rather than defining what progress is, it is much easier (and creates a clearer picture) to define what it is not. Think of a silhouette. It gives us a clear outline, a stark contrast, and thereby a vivid picture or definition of what we're seeing.

Progress is not a plateau, flat, or static
It is not boring mundane or tired
It's not always loud or exciting
But it's also not always quiet or unnoticed
It's not descending or declining
But it's not stationary either
It's not unnecessary or without effort
Progress is not one thing, this thing or that thing

The question that struck me as we were discussing is: can you have progress without goals?

It turned my thoughts to an exhibition by Tino Sehgal I read about in the New York Times a few weeks ago. It's called, "This Progress" and I want to fly to NYC right now and experience the exhibition for myself. I think I'll have to just do it vicariously through writers and critics (and possibly my uncle if I can get him to go and report to me). Holland Cotter, a New York Times critic described his experience like this:

It begins when you walk a short way up the rotunda ramp. A child comes over to greet you. My greeter, a girl of 9 or 10, introduced herself as Giuliana and stated matter-of-factly, “This is a piece by Tino Sehgal.” She invited me to follow her and asked if she could ask me a question. “What is progress?” I gave a broad answer, then at her request, a clarifying example. We went further up the ramp.

Soon we were joined by a young man, a teenager, who said his name was Will. Giuliana carefully and accurately paraphrased for him my response to her question and slipped away. I walked on with Will, who commented on my comments on progress, which prompted me to try to refine my initial thoughts.

About halfway up the rotunda, Will was replaced by Tom, whom I took to be in his mid-30s and who introduced a new topic.

And it goes on like this until you get to the top of the ramp. Sehgal's work consists of highly conceptual, deep conversations. I think it's fascinating. I want to know what sort of outcomes I would have in my own thoughts.

What is progress?

Champion

My political science 170 teacher uses Powerpoints. Extensively. We look at a lot of maps during discussion with arrows pointing in various places. Today as he was standing in front of the screen, two arrows pointed to his right and left nostril. Perfectly.

I laughed out loud.

Decisions

Mikey is helping me learn to make decisions based on simple math equations. Here's one example:

β = magnitude of bad consequence (rate from 1 to 10)
p = probability bad consequence would happen

if βp < 5, do it
if βp > 5, don't do it

And there you have it. Decision making made easy courtesy of Mikey.

Farside

Sometimes instead of goodnight stories, Mikey reads Far Side comics instead.

This one had him laughing for a solid 5 minutes.

Spring?

Did spring come yesterday?
Well it left already.

Yesterday the sky was blue and endless. It makes me feel like a true Westerner when I connect so deeply to a sky so big.
Today is it gray, close, hovering, like an unwelcome snoop.

Blah.

Is it spring yet?

Another?

I started another blog. Another you say?

Yes, another.

Not to be in place of this one, but rather, in addition. It's a place for me to record my thoughts about my art work and chronicle its progression (that is, assuming it does). I think I want to incorporate more documentation into my studio practice so I have a lot to references and personal history to glean from. It's also clarifying for me to write and reflect.

Check it out HERE.

Eulogy

A eulogy for my recently passed friend and computer, Mr. Apple.

RIP Mr. Apple

'Only a computer' - that's what they say;
So why am I weeping and grieving this way?
'Only a computer' - but cherished by me -
But mourned not my friends or family.

'Only a computer' does not convey
The loss and yearning I feel today.
'Only a computer' can never explain
The ache I feel, with its burning pain.

Thank you, thank you, for the gift of this friend,
For the lessons I learned, which he helped me comprehend
He was there through finals and late nights abroad;
I love you Mr. Apple, your life deserves an applaud

Hacker

I left my phone at home a few days ago and had to get a hold of Mikey so I did what any tech-savvy person would do. Text him from my email account.

He thought I was a Chinese hacker.

Today he texted me from his email account and posed as a Chinese hacker, "hello hello. do you read?...do you read? i important message have you for. Win big $? Just me write back. Greetings..."

It sounds like a Chinese Yoda to me.

Avalanche

Was anyone else outside last night around eleven?

It. was. beautiful. and bright.

We got quite the snowfall and it made the world feel awake, quiet and still. I think one of my favorite parts of the night storms is the soft brightness it brings. (I also love how the limbs on the trees in Mom and Dad's backyard touch the ground. When you walk underneath them it feels like they're hugging you).

As Mikey and I drove home slowly, trying to soak in the wonder, we drove past the intermural fields on Canyon Road. You know, the ones with chain link fences that reach to the sky? The fences looked like giant blankets or sheets or canvas.

I wanted to shake it. So did Mikey. We parked and walked over to the mile-high chain link and laced our fingers in between the metal before thrashing our arms; causing our own personal avalanches.

It was hilarious and freezing. I think I pulled eight full-sized snowballs out of my coat.

And two more from my undies.

Burrrr.

Learning

As soon as I walked out of my last class for the week I knew I'd have to spend this weekend rearranging my mind so there would room for all of my thoughts to stay.