lots of sleeping.

We’ve been working a lot too: dare I say, working too much? Though full of awesome results and good times, the weeks leading up to our wanderlust were exhaustingly busy. I enjoy getting my hands dirty and spending time immersed in my work, but if the holidays have taught us one thing, it’s that spiked eggnog and cold weather running don’t mix. And we also learned that every so often, you really do have too take a break.

That’s why we’ve decided to celebrate Lagurdagur.

…For the etymology-disinclined, Laugardagur is the Icelandic word for Saturday. In Old Norse, the roots mean “pool” and “day,” or literally, “bathing day.” This is not to say we’re going to stop bathing the rest of the week, by the way…but we figure, if we need a regular break, what better day to celebrate than a day that looks like “Laugh” and means “Pool Day?” It just conjures up hours of fun, sun, and general relaxment, with or without an umbrella drink involved.

So what’s going to make Laugardagur special? Well, we’ve already decided that we’re unplugging. We can still listen to music, but overall we’re seriously limiting our use of computers and television to just about nil. The only exceptions are to look up tutorials for projects, but we’re even cautious about that, since from there it’s a slippery slope to browsing Pinterest (for educational purposes, of course, ahem).

For people like us, who make their bread&butter through or because of the web, this has been…difficult, to say the least. But it’s allowing us to follow the second rule of Laugardagur: to use our mind, and learn something new and/or do something creative.

(including personal projects I've otherwise put off for one reason or another.)

Granted,  given that I have a tendency to rewatch (for the twenty-something-ith time) The Day After Tomorrow for it’s sheer Work-On-Other-Stuff potential every time I do a tedious creative task (and while that sounds like an oxymoron, try cutting 230 tiny strips of paper or individually hand-sewing 350 squares without something else going on), the whole ["No TV" plus "work on stuff"] equation has also taken a little time to solve. But I’m finding that I really like it. It puts me back into my work, to appreciating the craft of making…and even if I’m doing a repetitive task, I’m seeking out conversation that grows and flourishes instead of just stuffing something into the gap.

It’s putting me back into my world, the one composed of making, doing, and thinking. I’m appreciating my surroundings, or actively beautifying them if I don’t. And that “present-mindedness” is very grounding. Being aware of my environment leads naturally into the third rule, Go. Outside. Especially as the weather cooled off, it had been too tempting just to stay under the blankets…but after the oh so gentle reminder video short, 23 and a Half Hours, and missing the burst of energy that comes from using our bodies, we’ve made a renewed effort to get away from the desk, no matter how comfortable it is.

(Inspirational photo-adventures are good excuses to do so.)

And we’re finding geting away to be just as comfortable. The final rule of Laugardagur is that You Don’t Work on Work, also known as, “No Seriously, you don’t work on work.” There’s been a lot of writing on how taking breaks enhances or improves creativity, but there’s a big difference between reading about “what a good idea that would be,” and actually feeling it happen, especially because you’ve made it happen. Though I love what I do, I was starting to feel a little burnt out by the time winter break rolled around, but giving ourselves permission to “take a real break” – even if we had to force ourselves to do so in the form of a car trip and uncertain internet or outlet access – really helped me look forward with fresh eyes. Now, knowing that I have Laugardagur off, I feel more excited to get my work done beforehand and more refreshed to actually start the next week. It’s  powerful lesson in what a little self-balance can achieve. Rather than dreading January, I feel more excited for 2012 than I have any other New year.

And, of course, for each and every Laugardagur.

So Nashville, what are you doing this Saturday?

Plus, they’re pretty cool people.

Pottery classes with Audrey Deal-McEver

As I’m also a sucker for purchasing pottery, Audrey Deal-McEver has been trying for ages to get me to visit her pottery class, and I was glad to finally have a chance earlier this month to stop in.

One of the students at the pottery wheel.

Good timing, too: the artists were in the middle of some really interesting projects…

This holiday season, we're handbuilding a turkey instead of stuffing one.

and I enjoyed being able to overhear student discussions about glazing and firing…

Glaze samples show you what you can expect from a particular jug, since the unfired glaze looks completely different!

and to sit in on a lecture showing different approaches to pottery.

...these are basic pots, but they're only the start to where ceramics can explore. Take a class and see for yourself!

While I was there, Audrey was kind enough to introduce me to the other classes happening that night. Our next stop was…

Jewelry, fused glass, and metalworking classes with Nancie Roark.

As my main interaction with metal as been on the sharp pointy end of speedball carving gougers, seeing the metalworking classes that Nancie Roark teaches is a whole new, beautiful side to a versatile medium. Instead of wound-inducing implements, Nancie’s class was fashioning some very appealing designs….

...such as these delicate, in process pieces.

Granted, it still looked kind of dangerous…

but also kind of cool.

It was a really fascinating look into the process of jewelrymaking. If you’ve got an appreciation for detail and tougher skin than I, you should check out their classes!

(Also, their tools are super neat and organized.)

Audrey also introduced me to Christopher Cheney, who teaches printmaking courses that also met that night.

A student silkscreening in class with Chris Cheney.

I love printmaking processes, and it’s always fun to see other printers in action…

...and how they get there, like with this rigged light set-up for exposing an image onto a screen.

I wish I could have gotten more shots of people working, but I have a bad habit of talking and drooling with envy instead of shooting photos sometimes when it comes to printshops. The studio is set up with a computer for creating screens, a whole bunch of example prints and tools, and two darkrooms (which also facilitate the photography area).

AND a giant worktable, which makes the studio artist in me go pitter-patter.

If you’ve been interested in screenprinting, Chris has a lot of great advice and recommendations for established printers…

...or if you're a beginner to the process, sign up to take a class next year and have access to all of the equipment.

Last was a visit with the watercolor class taught by Pam Francis.

Pam has been teaching at Sarratt since 1997, and when we arrived, her students were working on watercolor paintings based off of collage elements.

The students had gathered pieces of photographs, magazine clippings, and personal swatches to combine into a unique view. The hard part is imagining the different sections as a complete scene, and it was interesting watching people draw from pretty varied sources to create a unified view, lighting, and layout.

The level of detail and concentration was also welcome. I enjoyed seeing the care as each painter got into their work. Watercolor can be a tricky medium since it is so translucent, letting previous layers peek out when you lay down new color. Color-mixing and knowing your paint becomes important as different combinations can produce unexpected results.

Due to the quick drying nature of the work, watercolor is also one of the easiest painting methods for painting in the studio, just at home, or out in public. It’s a popular medium and very affordable…

...making it an ideal class for someone being introduced to painting.

Getting to see the process behind work changes your perspective and lets you see for yourself the value of a final product. And when it comes to value, there’s some great work being produced by Sarratt students and faculty. As I mentioned earlier, Audrey knows I’m a sucker for purchasing handcrafted works of art, so a few days ago she also invited me to see the annual Sarratt Holiday Arts Festival. This is the 21st anniversary of the Festival, and it’s going on RIGHT NOW until December 11th, 11 am-7pm. There’s work from the studios and professors, such as:

Ferocity jewelry by April Kaye Nikolaides

Beadcraft by The Women of Umoja, a safe haven for women and girls that also serves as a training center for human rights, economic empowerment, and preservation of traditional crafts.

Ukrainian Eggs by Karen Ozment, which are carefully dyed and varnished in an intensive process

Jennifer Knowles-McQuistion of Brown Dog Bindery

Remixed stationary from Juniper Berry Design

Prints and pillows by Julie Sola

and other works featuring ornaments by Terry Barrow, pottery by Laurie Box Graham, jewelry by Andi Davis, pottery by Audrey Deal-McEver, mixed media collage by Elizabeth Garlington, pottery and photography by David Heustess, pottery by Kelly Kessler, jewelry by JoEl Logiudice, jewelry by Susan Moody, textile arts by Lori Nichols, photography by Anna O’Conner, jewelry by Nancie Roark, birdhouses by Frank Saggus, blown glass by Jose Santiseban, cards by Eileen Tomson, and paper and botanicals from Thistle Farms.

Go take a look, and if you like what you see, it’s a great way to shop local for your holiday gifts. Don’t forget though that you can also choose the opportunity to learn these skills yourself: register for next year, and, as Sarratt would say, “get some class!”

I decided way back in March, after 2 months of being back in Nashville, that I wanted to collaborate with youth.  Fresh out of graduate school, I felt like this was a natural transition.  This would help me learn about Nashville in a new way, and jump-start my relationship with area schools . . .

And, it’s doing just that.

It’s now November and we are knee-deep in the project.  It is so much fun to be working with different groups of students on projects that I will respond to with my own work in the gallery.  I keep looking at their work and thinking, now how am I going to do this?  (Each of the schools are way ahead of me in creating the work–agh!)  Yesterday, I came up with the idea that I would only use materials that could be found in a school’s art classroom.  I keep thinking about googly eyes, and what an amazing and creepy texture they could give to a large sculptural mass.  One whole section of the gallery, covered in googly eyes!!  When the viewer is looking at the work, the work is looking right back at the viewer.  Humorous, too, because the eyes are so not real.  Ha!  Or, what about poof balls?  Chenille stems?  Construction paper garlands covering the ceiling . . . What about fingerweaving, will there be fingerweaving?  Of course, there will be fingerweaving . . . In fact, I’m thinking of creating an entire costume out of fingerweaving:  inspired by the swamp thing, voodoo, and George Clinton.  I just need someone to wear it at the opening reception.  Don’t forget that each person who has donated to the Deliciously Happy Kickstarter project gets their name in the installation somewhere.  Perhaps read in a poem, perhaps written on the floor, perhaps in sign language during a performance.

What I’ve realized in doing this project is that art definitely needs a role in the school system, whether public, private, or charter.  Now, I knew this prior to this project, but quite honestly, I wasn’t sure how art needed to be in schools.  It’s so drastically different than the other subjects (in terms of participation, assessment, and evaluation), that I didn’t know how it quite fit.  Now I see it as absolutely necessary as being a tool for instructors to draw in students who don’t process information orally, through memorization, or by taking tests.  Art is not just a class that should be thrown in the schedule one day every two weeks.  Art should be fully integrated into every classroom in every school.  If I had been taught math in a visual way, without memorization, more based on imagery, maybe I wouldn’t have had the trouble I had.  To some, like me, art is the first voice:  I’m much more eloquent at showing you a picture of what I’d like to say than saying it.  So, how can we engage the schools in adopting the arts as a tool for teaching, teach students through individualization so that students have equal opportunities to learn all subjects?  Food for thought.

As the project continues, I hope to learn more about school structure and implementation of arts-based learning.  I will be giving a talk at the opening reception for the Deliciously Happy gallery show in March.  My findings will be discussed during this talk, and questions will be encouraged.  Hope to see you there!

For more information on the Deliciously Happy project, please see the press release below.  And, visit the Kickstarter link to watch a short video featuring students from Bordeaux Elementary and the University School of Nashville.

Deliciously Happy features partnerships with students from three Nashville-area schools:  the University School of Nashville, Bordeaux Elementary, and Lead Academy.  In tandem with sculpture students from Belmont University, students from each school will construct social issue-based stories and create coordinating performance paraphernalia as part of an installation being featured at Belmont University.

Deliciously Happy is now being featured on Kickstarter to help raise additional funds needed to help realize the project. Currently 12 of the 24 workshops have been completed.  Each workshop includes project supplies and a documentation crew.  To finish the project, supplies are needed for the remaining school workshops, an editor is needed to put all of the workshop videos together, and transportation needs to be scheduled and reserved for the students to attend the gallery opening so they can see their work and speak with the people attending the opening.  Contributions will help with culminating event costs, like installation lighting, projection equipment, community invitations, and viewer participation workshop supplies.

A portion of the contributions will also help to publish a book, including all of the lesson plans, example artwork, and documentation; and the student, educator, and community responses to the projects.  This book will be made available to schools and organizations so that more youth can participate in performance-based workshops.

Spearheading the project is local artist and Belmont graduate student, Lindsey Bailey. Ms. Bailey moved back to Nashville 10 short months ago after receiving her Master of Arts in Community Arts at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore.  Immediately following, she approached Jessica Owings and Belmont University about Deliciously Happy.

Ms. Bailey’s work has recently been featured at D!verseWorks Art Space for the Houston Fine Art Fair and Texas Contemporary Art Fair in Houston and at the Sideshow Fringe Festival at Belmont University in Nashville.  In December and January, she will have work featured at the New Britain Museum of American Art in Connecticut.  For Artober in Nashville, she was part of a panel organized by Actor’s Bridge and the Metro Nashville Arts Commission to discuss Nashville innovation in the arts and arts access.

More information on the Deliciously Happy project can be found here:  http://kck.st/unJK6l

Images of Ms. Bailey’s artwork can be found here:  www.cakecrush.com

High resolution images of Deliciously Happy works-in-progress available by request.

CONTACT INFORMATION:

Lindsey Bailey

lindsey@cakecrush.com

www.playdeliciouslyhappy.blogspot.com

I’ve talked before about how valuable the experience of an open studio can be – not just for audience, but for artists! – and his is a perfect chance to see firsthand the kind of idea generation, fellowship, and happy discovery you get through a studio tour. As always, Chestnut Studios is inside the old Hosiery Mill at 427 Chestnut St, with parking to the side or in the lot across the street.

RSVP on Facebook for more info, or just stop on by and take a look for yourself at the caliber of work inside this unique space. We’ll see you out there, Nashville, and trust us: it’s totally worth it.

Books are way better than the sea.

And again, same as it was years ago, my focus was on books. Well, in a manner of speaking: this time my bags were filled with volumes of independently-published zines and chapbooks, handbound comics culled from my thesis adventures along the west coast ink line, and limited edition finds from a decade of collecting. “Zines and Things:  Indie Publishing in an Internet Era,” the workshop I’m doing with the Creative Writing & 21st Century Publishing class at LaRue County High School, is a continuation of my personal work in contemporary narrative media, my own fascination with print (and with making/sharing print), and also a great way to give back as an alumni. I paired up with Summer Garris and together we brainstormed an approach into media mayham.

My favorite way of teaching is with hands-on examples. LOTS of examples!

With a whole invitation of books strewn on the classroom floor, I talked briefly about the history of zines, and the background of independent publishing as political, personal, and social action. We talked about zines as culture signifiers and culture creators, introducing the rise of Funkmaster Thomas Paine‘s hit zine “Common Sense,” Ben Franklin‘s standing-room-only magazine run for psychiatric patients and staff, and HP Lovecraft’s indie-styled encouragement of the amateur avant-garde publishing scene. And we talked about how zines are ultimately a democratic, vocal, and self-motivated form of media: that as young writers they could actively create and define their own culture and representation. Who can resist that?

(To be fair, I did cheat on my notes for presentation. Students, don't do this! Teachers? Um, maybe.)

And a big part of self-definition these days is definitely the impact of social networking, online representation, and personal marketing. Without sounding too much like a corporate lackey when it comes to advertising strategy, I wanted to press the importance of giving print publications a fair face online, too, and how – as a designer and maker myself – you can use the internet to help promote some very non-digital, non-commercial, non-mass-produced media.

Some of the mini-zines that the class made: custom work, handwritten texts, and one-of-a-kind personal explorations. Take that, corporate America!

After all, the internet is, at its heart, a huge advocate for self-expression. There are so many free blog formats available to share your view with others, a ton of cheap and easy ways to sell handmade works of art and print, and so many ways to connect. We talked a lot about that: how do you reach potential audiences? how do you find opportunities? And how can you use new avenues to walk the writing career path? I introduced resource books on writing, reaching out, and (eventually) running a small business, as well as introduced a few people who’d gone on unconventional journeys to end up as published writers, comic artists, and makers.

Talking about how to generate content, whether for a personal zine or for a public article

As you might have guessed, I don’t like traditional formats if a better solution exists. Having the chance to talk with the class in their couch area was a perfect, casual fit, with zines in hand and with images of past workshops and lessons covering the back wall. It’s much bigger than my old classroom used to be, and the space easily fits a lot of desks, a lot of pacing space, and a lot of bookshelves. It’s also a mere hop and skip to the school’s main library. All these bookshelves also give us a great avenue into the next goal of the project: a zine library.

The room is actually very spacious. Which in my vocabulary means it needs at least ten more bookshelves! ...So why not help us reach that goal?

Zine Libraries (such as the one I visited earlier this year in Murfreesboro) are becoming more popular, giving readers a place to congregate and a cost-effective way to find and share the limited-editions that typically make up independent publications. It’s also a great way to give zinesters to a place to donate their works, share ideas and formats, and trade with other areas or makers to bring in new blood to an existing collection.

Or, you know, to just enjoy a good book =)

Thanks to TangleCraft’s zine-bomb tutorial template and a fistful of my Concerns issues, the students learned a little bit about folding mini-zines, an easy introduction to the world of handbound (or in this case, hand-folded) media. It’s also a great way for writers to get used to the sometimes condensed nature of writing for an audience, and for getting to the point efficiently but elegantly when you’re contained by pages limited by the costs and efforts of printing out of your own pocket. By the second workshop class, students were asked to bring a mini-zine they’d created as a way of breaking the ice and starting the possibilities.

...and to entice future trades!

As the class continues, I’ll be Skyping in periodically to help demonstrate new formats, point my fellow writers to new opportunities and resources, and initiate trades between LaRue and the rest of the writing world.

So Nashville: if you or someone you read might want to donate a zine or trade with one of the students to add to your (and their!) collection, or if you have ideas or tutorials you might want to introduce to the class via an online post, drop me a line or visit the project page. We’d be happy to start talking…and reading!

The following five tips are directed towards recent graduates, but anyone  (not just card-carrying alumni) can take the foundations of these tips to apply it to any transition.

1. Research where you’re going to be.

…because that’s how you get there. When I first moved to Nashville, I didn’t have many connections to the city; it took me about five months to really feel “settled” and “okay” with where I was and with what I was doing….and my studio practice reflected that. If you want that process to go faster, do your homework before you graduate: find out what the city offers, who is already there, and what they’re doing. Take it from my experience: a little bit of legwork makes the rest of this list turn into cake.

A breakdown of Nashville's general neighborhood areas...getting lost is helpful to anyone getting used to a new city!

2. Ask your network who or what inspires them.

The best thing about a college is that the majority of your teachers or fellow students don’t come from your town: they’ve been around a little bit and hail from a diverse background. Ask them if they have anyone they could introduce you to, or what favorite places they recommend you make time to check out. Most of your peers, and especially your professors, have come to know your work over the course of your degree, and can point you to opportunities or people you might not see or meet on your own. (Plus, they’ll be flattered you asked! And when it comes to professors, it never hurts to show you appreciate them!)

Artists from The Contemporary Frequency show talk about their influences.

3. Look for the people who lead projects you respect, or find intriguing.

As you begin to find out more about where you’re going and who is already there, be proactive! If you find out about an arts-initiative or project that you liked, or want to be involved with, find out who or what is behind the idea. Ask if you can meet with them, or attend one of their organizational meetings, or plan to volunteer some time.  But if you’re going to take the steps to stand out, be sure you’re ready to be noticed: research what’s already happened, and just as importantly, figure out how you could help them reach the next step.

Volunteers at the Frist Center for the Arts help with Henna to celebrate the Vishnu exhibit.

4. Look for likeminded people who hang out in the places you like.

Sometimes the easiest way to find the people you’ll like is by hanging out in the places you like, or who attend the events you enjoy. It’ll take a little boldness to introduce yourself to new or familiar strangers – I’m a lone wolf at heart myself, so I understand the introvert’s dilemma – but it’s worth it. I know, I know: at the end of the day, it feels easier to stick to the friends you already know,  to just go home, to throw on an episode of Star Trek, and simply veg out…but instead I chose to spend time in my favorite locations – coffeehouses, art museums, and bookstores – in an attempt to get to know people who liked what I liked and who were passionate about being a part of things. You meet some pretty cool people simply by putting yourself out there.

Two poets from YouthSpeaks Nashville incorporate movement into their duet performance reading.

And in that line of thought:

5. Go outside of your experiences.

Sometimes the most important connections you end up creating – the ones who form the basis of your true Creative Accountability Relationships and who drive you to make work – happen because you take advantage of the unknown. You volunteer for something you weren’t completely sure you could do. You start a project that asks a lot of you. You go somewhere you didn’t plan on going, or decided to go out and attend something even though you were already tired. That extra step and dedication shows.

Artists experiment with ideas of collaboration and commerce at the Artist Block Party.

And when you go a little further, look a little harder, and make a little more effort, people notice it: like cats to boxes, we’re attracted to people who are active, open, and receptive to new ideas. You might just find that while you’re out looking for people, people will notice…and start looking for you. Engage them!

So Nashville…who do you turn to for influence?

(photo courtesy of zerne.wordpress.com)

As a man of varied talents, Ed Zerne spent his early childhood in Panama. Attending the Corcoran School of Art and Maryland Institute College of Art, and as a teacher at Mount Vernon College, he was a proponent of human rights, and many of his works reflect the human place in society, action, and the universe, specifically in our relationships with each other as creatures of instinct. He wrote often about his experiences with art and the artmaking process, and lived his life with the same curiosity and search for knowledge: he found it difficult to imagine someone making a judgment call about something without having experienced it for themselves. He loved art, and he loved making art…”most of the time.” “…Ed could be something of a ‘punny guy’.”

Stephen remembers: “Seeing his work growing up was a good exposure to [art and artmaking] that wasn’t a standard portrait. Seeing the things hung around the beach house [in Delaware], [they were works that] bordered between painting and sculpture, [and leaning into installative experience]. The conceptual thinking is something I don’t think most people are exposed to at a young age, and frankly it caused really big debates [in the family] as to the validity of what was being done, and the sustainability of what people were doing, but it also allowed me to think about art [in terms of] legitimacy and value, and as something that can be and should be sustainable. I didn’t go into practicing any kind of artistry because of my uncle…but I think he exposed me to the [larger] dialogues necessary to get where I am at today.”

…

I also wanted to take a moment to share the example of my old professor, friend, and mentor, Kim Chalmers. As a teacher and department chair at Western Kentucky University, he was one of the best: the kind that learns from his students even as he pushes us into the work he believes we can do. Some of my fondest memories are having knock-down, drag-on, flat-out arguments about my projects with him about why I should be able to make what I wanted to make: his willingness to debate with me made me feel like the work I was doing was worth fighting for. Just as importantly, he listened.

I could always count on Chalmers to have a wisecrack or to be bizarre and whole-hearted, rushing down a hallway with dramatic gestures and a bold voice: he was more like an Einstein or Beethoven with his crowd of flying grey hair and quick eyes. He was unafraid to be who he was, but by contrast, his site-responsive work was still, quiet, deep as a lake, heavily layered with metaphor and ice, thought creaking beneath every cautious surface decision. In conversations in his office, we experienced dismay and sadness over similar things – the terrible acts people could think to do to other people – even as we shared a similar, desperate hope over the power and voice of the creative act.

Even now I find myself caught by the desire to show him something new I’m working on, or ask his opinion, or share a good idea, or simply just nag him a little bit and give him a hard time. He always gave me a hard time…and I grew the better for it. I’ll miss him.

We’ve been busy as bees here at the house studio at Casa Corteza, with a full roster of events hitting us hard this past weekend, in a variety of ways.A combination of events has left me a little behind on last week’s blog post, and so I’ll take a moment to apologize for the delay. But I’m eager to share what’s been going on this past weekend, and a big thanks to all of you who managed to come out and share it with us.

My neurotic commandeering of the most comfortable studio place to work.

Friday was a flurry of momentum as we prepared for the Handmade & Bound festival this Saturday. Lots of last-minute decisions…

Stephen working

fine-tuning…

Stephen not working

handmaking…

(or foot-making, as the case may be)

…and the folding of a hundred mini-zines kept our hands busy. A big thanks to friends and fellow designers who came by throughout the week to help fold (Ken, we’re looking at you), drop stuff off, proofread (thanks Blair!), or just plain make sure we weren’t completely stir crazy.

Luckily, waking up Saturday morning was a charm: we started off with the Nashville’s own Fall Fest at the Produce Place.

Olive & Sinclair shared some Mexican Style and Coffee Bean with us...

...samples from Roux Maison....

...and a primer in honey mixology from Tru Bee...

...were just a few of the things showcased at this year's Fall Fest.

It’s always nice when one of our clients reaches out to the community like this (especially when there is free food involved!) and it set us in the right mood: the sense of hospitality is another key part of what makes this city “Nashville,” and it was in abundance all day as we went from event to event. Next up was…

The folks at Watkins were perfect hosts: helping us carry everything in, bringing us coffee and tiny cinnamon buns, and helping us get set up for our workshop and meet other vendors. A showcase of book arts, zinesters, and small press, HMB gave the community a hands-on peek into the world of indie publishing: visitors were encouraged to make paper with Watkin’s own Annie Herlocker, print your own tote with Goldsmith Press, ask questions during book demonstrations with both Gilded Leaf and Brown Dog Bindery, and participate in a number of workshops and educational talks about a whole range of topics.

The Aisle of Awesome had great demonstrations: Brown Dog Bindery up front, The Gilded Leaf second, and Goldsmith Press & Austin Peay showcased their work at the very back.

Stephen, Corey, and I as The Designer Friends gave a talk as well; “Pixels, Print, & Presence: How to Make the Most of Digital When It Comes to Print” came with a free resource zine and covered the basics of how the internet affects zinemakers: using content effectively from online sources, the rules and guidelines of basic fair use, and how to use the internet as a tool to develop your online as well as print presence. You can download the zine here as a .pdf.

studiOmnivorous also had a vendor booth, and we sold Stephen’s hiphoproduce-inspired “Fat Beets” linotype prints, the full range of Concerns mini-zine issues, and a text-based collection of my dreams, themed around Ships and Structures. We also included a new release, a stand-alone stab-binding comic, Under the Wave Off Kanagawa, which investigates the history of Hokusai as a painter in juxtaposition with the contemporary painter and the sensation of loss and mania. One of our best-sellers was the first volume of Hyphens: Losing and Finding 365 Days, my autobiographical Make-365 comic detailing 2009 in metaphor, image, and allusion.

Some of the Dream Zines we had available for purchase. You have to buy your own tablecloth, though.

At the closing open-mic zine reading, and as I wandered around in awe of my fellow bookmakers, it was really a pleasure getting to see all the work everyone else is doing, too: a lot of good zinemakers out there. Both Jerry’s Artarama and Plaza represented alongside a show of support from Parnassus Books, and it was great to see Microcosm and Spit And A Half out in force…

...even if it gave me a bad case of comic book lust!...

and my friends from Little Hamilton brought their zine distro out to show, with some really good screenprints from Santana Marcrum.

Kale is such a dapper dan! And the zines rock just as hard as the Hammies do.

I bumped into The2ndHand, celebrating their 10-year anniversary with some swank limited-edition cases, and got a brief moment to chat with Mark Griffin at Quake, who gave me a packet of his August 2011 issues so I can catch up and share the news (Want one?). And there were hundreds of handmade papers (such as Liberty Paper Mill), small treasures, and sketchbooks to tempt my pocketbook: a lot of solid work, as interesting for the stories behind them as for their delicate threads and staunch folds. I finally gave in and bought two old-fashioned type drawers for the studio after a great talk with The Gilded Leaf, and had the pleasure of trading zines and small things with Goodwill Zine, Sheep Grenade, and Allen Spetnagel. I met Nashville newbies like Amelia Garretson-Persans looking for cool things to think on, oldbies like Zone 3 Press who are doing some cool stuff, and a whole bunch of people with whom I am looking forward to collaborating with on projects, talking more, and generally rocking the boat as always.

If you make zines, send some my way! Let’s trade and talk some more. But speaking of rocking the boat…

…after packing up and grabbing a PBJ, I immediately went to join Lindsey Bailey at Belmont’s Troutt Theatre to dive right back into the action…this time as a purple Cephalopod with something to say in Octopus Lament. Lindsey has spent the last two weeks creating a gorgeous Octopus costume…

(photo courtesy of Lindsey Bailey)

…each indigo tentacle at least ten feet long, thick as my waist at the top and tapering to gentle coils at the end.

(photo by Andee Rudloff)

I also wore a tuxedo jacket and a top hat, with two bulbous octopus buns on either side of my head – attached to a giant colorful octopus headsack (ahem,”mantle“) – while Lindsey made last minute adjustments to my arabesque arms and curlicue legs. Jackie Osbourne did the makeup while I thought of the sad, mad King Lear and tried not to blink (sounds strange, but hey, what works, works, right?).

(image courtesy of Lindsey Bailey)

And Jin-Hwa Choi provided me with beautiful reading guidelines to her composition while we tested the mics and played with effects under the generous supervision of the Sideshow Fringe Festival staff.

It’s always a thrill to read before a crowd, but not in the way you’d expect: I don’t often feel pre-game nervousness before a performance, but I always, always, feel post-performance anxiety. I’m linking to a video clip, but just hearing my own voice is still too weird of an experience for me to watch! You’ll have to tell me what you think =)

All in all, it’s been an exhausting weekend and a long recovery. But I’m grateful to have been a part…and equally happy to be able to share it with you. So Nashville…what have you been up to lately?

Locking hands just above the wrists, she’d take off running a few steps ahead of me. When she reached as far as our arms would stretch, she’d use her speed to pull on my hand, tugging me forward. Her momentum would send me flying in front of her right until the point that we couldn’t reach any farther…and then I’d tug her forward, starting the process over.

It was a silly game, but we got really smooth at it, catapulting each other through grocery store aisles, down park sidewalks, or along roads. Was it always a smooth transition? Not always. Was it easier than just plain running alone? Maybe sometimes, and sometimes maybe not. But was it a lot of fun? Definitely.

Finding a creative accountability relationship should be the same way. As I begin working again with Lindsey, this time as the lead in her one-cephalopod performance reading, I find myself reminded of that old game. Though our work can be stylistically very different – both in where we’re coming from and visually where we’re going – the way that Lindsey and I play off of each other’s momentum sends us moving forward in our work in ways that aren’t always achievable when you work alone.

image use courtesy of Lindsey Bailey

Much like your standard, run-of-the-mill intimate relationship, a creative accountability relationship isn’t really much of one if it’s one-sided: that’s more like having or being a coach. And it’s not a healthy relationship if it’s every single day, every single moment, either: that’s obsession, and probably lands you a restraining order in most states…not to mention that your work could get stagnant from too much of a good thing. Just like a real commitment, it’s best if it’s more like a really strong friendship that exists behind the scenes, supporting the mutual agreement. Your creative accountability develops from earnest, genuine curiosity that checks in with the other person. Not to say that you need to hang out and do critiques all the time…but in a good back-and-forth, you find yourself at key moments – when looking at artwork, thinking of solutions, or inventing ways to spur your process – thinking about the other person and how to help their work. Either inspired by what they’re doing or hoping to inspire them with something new, the role of an accountability partner is to bring diverse influence into your world. Lindsey and I don’t always meet up in person, but there isn’t a week that doesn’t go by that we don’t send links to interesting sites, art projects, ideas, or dialogue that we know will engage the other person.

And a creative accountability relationship is about engagement: it pushes you to be active. Even if I’m working with natural materials in a subdued palette while Lindsey is working with fabric in bold colors, how we work and why we work drives the both of us to question and relook at what we’re doing by seeing it through someone else’s eyes. A good accountability partner will ask you the easy questions, the tough ones, and the ones you weren’t expecting. Not to say that you have to, but if you do collaborate on projects together, the conversation about the larger direction can help you define or tighten up your own stance…or to try something new that brings you to a new place entirely.

That new place doesn’t even have to be in your own work, but can happen when the other person asks you to participate in one of their projects. I’m excited about reading the poetry of a lamenting Octopus, and when we met last night to do the initial measurements for the costume, we found ourselves bouncing off ideas for the set and costume design. The most elaborate costume I’ve ever done is to dress up as Frida Kahlo for Halloween, but I found myself thinking in new ways. A good partnership does that, challenging you to broaden not just your work and your ideas, but your experiences.

...my take on mildly-disgruntled octopi...

We’re meeting tomorrow to sound out the translation of the reading against the music composed by JinHwa Choi and smoothing out any speaking riddles. If the past few months have been any indication, we’ll also laugh, trade links, get excited about new project ideas, drink way too much coffee, take pictures, make faces, and swap news. And I can’t wait to see what we’ll come up with next.

Come out on October 1st to see the results in Octopus Lament as part of the Sideshow Fringe Festival. We’ll be on the stairs in front of Belmont’s Troutt Theatre at 9; just look for the octopus, Nashville, we’ll be happy to see you.

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P.S. If you enjoyed this, look for Part 2, where we’ll talk about how to create these connections in the first place.

The theme for an artshow can mean the difference between  a vague, unbalanced, crowded show or a tight but too similar connection of likeminded artists…or something more flexible that falls in-between. We were lucky that the “works in progress” concept we proposed to the area’s artists was met with a lot of interesting takes on our press release. We have one artist performing a never-before-in-Nashville album created during his three-months of silence…several site-specific installations that use our borrowed HAUS to it’s fullest potential…an artist who has set up a mini-studio for the night to work on oil-clay sculpture…and a whole range of great work covering the walls.

But the most exciting thing isn’t the art – and trust me, I’m not saying that lightly – but instead the kind of discussion that’s been floating around as people meet each other, install their work, and ask questions of what they see around them. The whole HAUS has a good atmosphere of thinking ahead. Several artists who hadn’t met each other got to trade ideas, while others found that the install concept of the work itself changed as a result of talking to other artists. And there’s been a lot of just plain fun, too. I’ve been elbow-deep in my own installation the whole night, but found myself unable to keep away from the talk, from snapping pictures, and from just seeing what everyone is doing. For some of these pieces, the creation happened initially in the studio…but it hasn’t stopped there. It’s growing, even now while I pull away to write this piece. And that’s really inspiring.

The ideas happening here tonight aren’t just about work: they’re about connecting, and creating a stronger art community in the region. I can’t wait for some of the discussion to start happening as soon as we wind down from the install. I’m even more excited to see it continue tomorrow as we bring the rest of the art community and the public into the dialogue for our one-night opening. I hope you’ll join us: 3530 Murphy, 5-10 p.m.

We’ll be grilling peaches and making smoothies, Nashville, so come on out.