I consider myself an artist and yet i am labeled a craftsmen

  I waver on the word of craft and what I think crafts are, usually when i think of the word crafts, i think of home projects you make on saturday afternoons at the dinner table with your mom and siblings. And when I entered art school I never imagined the word craft being used in a context to descibe a type of work, like ceramics, printmaking and fiber arts, all forms of “crafts” that I work in and make work in. maybe it was my art world naiveity. But in art school I learned that the type of work I like to make is contextualized as crafts, and are part of the crafts movement, which always left me with a dirty taste in my mouth and a demeening feeling about my work, which made me start questioning who the hell are these people that have the ability to catagorize fine art and craft art?

What makes a craft a craft, and who says so? When I think of the word craft I always think about how that work is made, the detail and treatment paid to it. Why are ceramics and prints considered “crafts” and painting and scultpting considered fine arts, is there not craft in that type of work? Are there not technical aspects in painting, like there are in ceramics? And why is anything involving fiber cinsidered a craft? Is making clothing not a fine art form? I’m sure Coco Chanel and Cristobal Balenciaga thought of themselves as fine artists with excellent craftsmenship. Or are these art forms considered “crafts” because they tend to be mainly utilitarian? Or is it because they can be associated with women, and the things that our mothers and grandmothers liked to do in the basement while the we their children were at school. 

I understand or at least am trying to understand the history of craft, the region of art making that I have been placed into. I can see the giant strides of artists and the art world towards accepting crafts into the fine art world, yet I don’t understand why money is the main divider, and is the object of affection by not only the art world but the dealers and historians as well. It bothers me that terrible drawings on xerox paper can be consider fine art and are sold for tons of money yet when ceramics, jewellery and hand made books are up for sale it seems outrageous to ask for a far price, that considers, materials used and time taken. And while yes many things in the craft world can be mass produced, someone originally designed them and made them, and then they were copied. For example at target there is a dinner set that I like, it is stoneware, 16 pieces, square plates blue and brown. I know I’ve seen pieces like it at craft fares, and ceramics conventions, and yet I am too cheap to buy them(well i would im just poor) a set like this hand made should and would coat something upwards of 2-300 dollars, at target I can get it for 60. Big difference. 

 

Why is it that money dictates the art world just like it dictates the rest of the world? 

In my time spent in the crafts world, I sometimes think I am okay with being labeled as crafts and yet at other times not so much. I have realized though that at looking at grad schools, generally the “crafts” areas have better facilities and more students. As well special names for their departments. 

Lonely City

This story is another writing post, this piece is the first draft of Lonely City from my minute fiction class I hope you enjoy it 

In the city of  Solus, you can enter and exit without even knowing it. There is not a stop light, or even a stop sign, there is just a street. One lonely resilient street.  There are not signs leading up to it, nor is it marked on a map. In fact it just blends in with the urban landscaping around it. 

On this street there are five buildings, and they are all abandoned. Two are brick, and the brick is crumbling, you can swipe your finger over it and a film and cloud of terra-cotta clay dust comes with you.   You can tell where the five and dime store was, the movie theatre, soda shop, and the department store, but what you can’t tell is where the people went or what happened to the city. 

Standing in the street  you get an eerie sense that you are not alone, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you shiver as you gaze in to the glass of the five and dime store. One of the panes broken but seemingly enough, nothing has been disturbed inside the store. And the store remains, contents intact, how it was when it was in use. Bags are still in their carousels, toys are still on shelves, tacky velvet paintings are still hung on the cork-board walls, and make-up is still in the glass cabinets. It is as if when looking at the five and dime store that the people just left, not even bothering to clear out. 

The rest of the city is a mirror image of the five and dime. The movie theatre is missing its grand marque, but the plastic letters of the last show played litter the broken sidewalk in pieces, and the neon lights, advertising future films, blink rapidly like they are trying to stay alive in their dilapidated home. The street has pot holes, and cracks that weeds now grow between. The street that leads up to Solus however is maintained and the road that follows Solus is pristine, as if the inhabitants of the other cities just paved up to where their road ends or begins and went no further, leaving Solus a relic of the past, an archaeological dig for the future.

Homophonic Poem

I am in several writing classes this semester and i am going to try and post as many of my writings as possible. Here is the first one, it is for my Intro to verse class, and it is a take on a homophonic poem, as my inspiration I used The killers Smile like you mean it, Britney Spears Baby one more time and Hanson’s MMMBOP. Any who Enjoy!

 

1. Save some mase.

1.1. Save the waste.

1.2. Wave your face.

1.3. Save your case.

1.4. Dave’s a face. 

1.5. Make some lace.

1.6. Change a race.

1.7. Fake your taste.

2. You know you’ve only got  fun.

2.1. You know you’ve only had one.

2.2. You know she’s fallen down some.

2.3. You sew the pants you have on.

2.4. You load your only hand gun.

2.5. You sue the king for ransom.

2.6. You bring your only grandson.

3. Change your name.

3.1. Make your frame.

3.2. Take a train.

3.3. Shake up Spain.

3.4. Man thats lame. 

4. While you’re young.

4.1. While you’re spun.

4.2. While you’re hung.

4.3. In the dung. 

5. Boy one day you’ll leave the sand.

5.1. Soy is the girls new best friend.

5.2. Toys where made to seek dry land.

6. Oh girl, he’ll help you be the man.

6.1 Ho you’re, the best one night stand.

6.2. Cure, me mister medicine man. 

7. Smile like you mean it.

7.1. Dial like you seen it.

7.2. Die all it if you need it.

7.3. Kyle really means it.

7.4. Shy guys  demean it.

8. I went to my dentist.

9. Mmmbop dib a dop bon du bop dibi dop bon do bop dib a dibi dop bon duoooo.

9.1. Mmmshop dibi sop bon dowop dibi dop bon dowoop dibi lop bon dowooo.

10. He took the giant python.

11. Hit the baby one more time.

11.1. Hit me maybe one more time

11.2. Sit Mrs Daisy on the mime.

11.3. Have a baby one last time.

12. Save the worms.

13. Give the bum a high five.

14. My mom made me dinner.

15. I got 99 problems, and my cook is one.

15.1. I got 99 problems, but a witch ain’t one.

15.2. I got 95 problems, and the power ain’t on.

Ima SENIOR! YAY!

school started for me on tuesday, which is my longest day of the week i have 3 classes back to back, starting at 1pm and ending at 9pm. it kinda sucks. This is year is jammed packed with writing classes, and a southwestern lit class led by Patti Catto (shes kind of amazing). I got my studio space which is basically a cube in the back of the building. Im happy with it, it seems like it will be quiet. 

George leaves on monday, sniff sniff, i told him to bring me something pretty.

I <3 Michael Phelps

I have tremendous pride being able to say that I am from Maryland and Baltimore, I have even more pride in saying that Michael Phelps is my hometown hero!

CONGRATULATIONS MICHAEL

 

Now marry me please!