I have left New York and was not able to meet with Tim Tomkinson. My hopes took a hard crash, but I don't think they are permanently damaged. In our correspondence, though brief, he did allude to the fact that he was very busy.....
"up to my eyeballs" I think was the exact term. I was busy myself. Margo came and spent about 5 days with me in the big apple, and it was splendid. Every day was full, and I have viewed so much art this last week that my visual art quota is more than filled, actually overflowing, for the present time. The weather was nice for her visit, not nearly as cold as I initially anticipated, which made all of the walking we did enjoyable.

I am not able to sleep right now, jet lag is kicking in, and I was just awoken with a dream about NYCAMS and professor Romaine telling me that my final paper, which I thought somewhat brillant, deserved a C, because I had not provided a thesis statement and had midway through the paper stopped writing about de Kooning and started writing about how Joseph Bueys was crazy (which is true).

Now I am in my room at my parent's house. I had forgotten how fantastic my bed is, but unfortunately it is almost too soft...I have been sleeping on a brick this whole semester. It is good to be home, but I may have left a part of my heart in New York.

NYCAMS, Fall 06

A group photo right before our Index Show opening. More pictures to come...

Dia: Beacon

Last Friday our class took a trip to the Dia center in Beacon, NY. The space is amazing. It was once a Nabisco factory that was renovated and now has a large art collection. It was a beautiful train ride as well, and we even passed the ruins of a castle on this island on the Hudson. The weather was warm and humid, but it was such a gray and misty day. The clouds rolled low over the water, and the bare, brown trees crowded around the banks. It was a day that was taken straight out of Wuthering Heights. I'm fairly confident that Bronte could have written her best stuff on a day like that. You half expect some tragic or romantic event to take place. Upstate New York was everything I had hoped it would be and more...and that was just the scenery. Inside the center, I saw Sol Lewitt drawings that would make you cry, Richard Serra's torqued elipses, and Joseph Bueys felt stacks, just to name a few.

And it Breaks my Heart...

My face is about to freeze off.

Rachel and I are debating what is better, winter hair, or summer hair. I make the argument for winter hair. In the winter, your cheeks get rosy and your hair may be tossed about, but it still retains some volume. Rachel hates winter hair. She gets static. She likes summer "because its not as frizzy and dry."

This is a completely nonsensical post.

I'm Such a Stalker...

For the past two years, I have more or less idolized the work of illustrator Tim Tomkinson (www.timtomkinson.com). He is a phenomenal draftsman, and I really like his aesthetic. About two weeks ago I discovered that he lives in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, which is a neighbor to Brooklyn Heights, where I live. I sent him an e-mail and for the most part said, "Tim, I love your work, big fan here. Wanna meet up, you know, discuss art and grad school recommendations?" and after a week of anxiously waiting, I get a reply saying, "Hey Lauren, thanks for the interest, really flattered. Let's meet up, I'm really busy lately, but seeing as you are such a big fan, and are probably a really fantastic person, I'll invite you to my studio." And though this really happened, the dialogue was slightly more professional.
So I am of course, ecstatic right now, and i have already been making a list of quesions, you bet. But for those of you who are thinking, "woa, lauren, don't seem too excited, and don't ask too many questions..just play it cool," you have no need to worry, because if I have learned anything this past year, its to always act casual when meeting really fantastic people.

These are a few images from Tim's website. Check it out!

The artist is a philosopher who attempts to create imagery/environment that speaks of the human condition.

Musing on Rothko and Richard Serra.....

I felt the need to post these drawings. Not that they are amazing, but mainly because I worked on many for fashion week and most of them were never seen. I haven't been able to post any Thanksgiving pictures yet, but I will soon.

It is now down to the last week and a half, and among final projects I have 4 papers to write, I need to pack, and it is time to start shipping art and all of my supplies back down to California.

Senior Photo

The woman Silas is interning with was so kind to take our portraits for the Biola yearbook.

I am finished up with my internship hours, and I am looking forward to the extra time on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have to write 4 papers within the next three weeks. THREE WEEKS! that is all the time I have left here in NY.

The cold weather is back, and it looks like its finally here to stay. We had a couple of weeks that stayed between 40-low 60's. But with the cold weather has come the Christmas decorations. Macy's just revealed their windows, and the city is bedecked in reds and greens. I walked by the ice rink at Bryant Park today...I think that maybe this weekend I will make my way over there. It is a bigger rink than the one at Rockefeller, and there are not as many spectators to see you fall either.

Rachel's family is in town for Thanksgiving, and they were so kind as to invite me out to dinner with them the other night. We ate at the Carnegie Deli, a used-to-be popular hotspot where performers would hang out after their shows at Carnegie Hall. The decor is so...quirky. There are framed and signed photographs of all the stars that have eaten at the deli, and they line the walls from floor to ceiling.

Sorry I haven't been posting enough photographs until now. My camera's battery has been dead for weeks and I continually forget to charge it.
Soon to come...photos of our Thanksgiving Feast and the Macy's parade...

An assortment of photos..some are from a splendid day in Central Park.

true story. it often happens.

Nothing short of acid water

Have I yet mentioned 85 cent coffee? The Plymouth Cafe is located across the street from the George (my residence, in case you forgot) and it is a favorite stop of mine before I jump on the train for school. The cafe, if you were judging by its looks, is not a place I would normally find myself. It has bad lighting, a dry-erase board with the menu haphazardly written all over it (that for a non-regular Plymouth goer, it would take a good 5 minutes to figure out), silver coffee carafs lining the counter, random regulars ranging in all ages and classes seated at the 4 tables, and awnings so low, you have to duck in order to get to into the cafe. Despite appearances, this place has the best egg and cheese sandwiches and blueberry muffins (Shannon and I will always try and plan a few extra minutes in our mornings) but I always look forward to 85 cent coffee the most. Growing up my parents (and they still do) have always bought Folgers coffee. Folgers is weaker, and sometimes I am shame-faced for saying that I drink it, especially being the knowlegable Starbucks barista that I was. I still prefer really good coffee, because there is nothing more that I love than finding a great cafe or coffee shop (starbucks not included), but something about Folgers reminds me of home..I am conditioned towards it. 85 cent coffee at Plymouth is your typical diner coffee, your choices ranging in Hazelnut, Vanilla Creme, and your standard regular and decaf...yet that amber liquid in the "I Heart the Big Apple" cups, never fails to get my morning off to a good start.

So this morning, after making my selection of blueberry muffin and hazelnut coffee, I made my way to the trains, only to find out my regular train isn't making trips into Manhattan this weekend. As I began to walk toward Montague where I can board the yellow R train, a frustrated and distraut looking girl asked me where she could find a train that would take her up to Time Square. Her name was Gloria, a prosecutor specializing in child abuse cases, no more than 27, 28 years old if I had to guess...maybe 5'6", brown short (slightly disheveled) hair, brown, thick-rimmed glasses, a nose piercing, bejeweled in thick silver rings and bracelets, and what I liked most about Gloria was the way she spoke. A casual sounding voice, not aggressive, but passive, slightly sounding of a stuffed up nose, talking quickly yet not too hurried, and comfortable. Gloria was anything but shy, and the walk to the train went quickly, in fact, the whole ride into Manhattan was enjoyable as we talked about our career choices, talking about the issues she has to deal with in abuse cases, and how much we both enjoy New York. She even invited me to come out with her friends, but because I have a month left (I can hardly wrap my mind around that) I don't foresee that happening. People like Gloria, that I have met from time to time, have made this experience worthwhile. Even if NYCAMS had turned out to be a bust, I think that my time here would have still been enjoyable, just based on experiences I have had so far.

Time to get to work....its getting down to crunch time. Our show is coming up and the selections for the show will be made a week from Monday. It looks like this Thanksgiving may not be as relaxing as past years.

And November is Half-Way Over?

Tomorrow is the day I register for classes at Biola for the next semester. I almost don't believe that I am done. I was always told that these four years are over in what seems two year's time, but I never quite believed it. As I looked at the course options and suddenly realized I am almost done with all my studio classes, I began to panic...at least just a little. The routine of school, the people you meet, the community, and the amazing professors I have grown to love and respect will all be taken away from me in about 7 months. I know its time to move on, but I have a hard time accepting that fact. I have always enjoyed school; i love learning and being challenged, and while those challenges will take different shape after graduation, there is something rewarding about being in school and having to undergo finals and papers, because in the end the satisfaction of having completed/learned something is invaluable.

I have loved NY. I am already getting somewhat melancholy at the thought of leaving. But I am ready to go back to Biola and finish strong. The living situation is another issue I have been thinking a lot about. After graduation i had always pictured moving back to Seattle, because there are so many people that I still love up there, but if i am going to pursue my artistic practice, staying in southern California where there is a strong art community (especially in places such as long beach) would be beneficial....I think it has been weighing on me more than I thought.

I am at a crossroads in my artistic career...there are so many things I want to do, and I thank all of you who put up with my "I think I would like to do _____ after graduation" statements, you are so kind for humoring me (especially Rachel, who usually laughs but seems genuinely interested). My portfolio and my general pursuits have taken a turn in the last two years from a design focus to a fine art focus. My inspirations as of late have been tactile foundations that I continue to explore...I usually start with the material and the content usually closely follows. So what do I do with all of these things I love? Painting, drawing, printmaking, three dimensional works, design? I thought about set design..thus the choice of internship, and I have also thought about getting an MFA in art history and working as an art collector and in the future as a prof...then there is illustration, and writing...a complete departure. I'm not even sure where I am going with this entry, I guess these are just some thoughts, and if you ever hear of someone needing to hire an artist with varied interests...give them my name.

Magnolia Bakery

I'm supposed to be making art right now. But I just got back from the best spontaneous excursion, and I knew that if I did not sit down and tell you about this experience right now, my excitment might wane and I would therefore not be able to adequately describe the pudding I just ate. Yes that's right, I said pudding. Let me preface this all by making sure you understand something...I love making art..I really do. But I also love being social, and when it comes right down to it, I will sometimes choose the social outing, or the conversation with so-and-so instead. Yes, this is a fault to a degree, because I love to talk and as the story goes, 5 minutes can quickly become 2 hours. So tonight I was faced with this decision. I actually contemplated not going (a big step forward, I thought) but in the end I would have missed out on the most glorious banana pudding this side of heaven. If you are not a banana fan, as most people are not, please set aside your judgments for the moment and continue reading with an open mind...

Magnolia Bakery is located in the West Village; an average looking corner bakery tucked in amidst retail stores bearing designer labels, chic apartments, and generally attractive people perusing the streets. But don't be fooled by the mom-and-pop looking decor, oh no..this bakery is happening. The hipsters, the fashion-forward, the college student, the tourist, even the local PTA may be found crowding the tiny bakery, while the edgy-looking bakers and clerks ring up the purchases usally comprising of their famous cupcakes. People rave over these cupcakes, I personally have yet to try one, but the banana pudding is the best thing there....or so the "bouncer" at the front door says (it was so crowded the line wrapped around the corner of the building). I quickly paid for my pudding and was not two steps out the door when I couldn't take it anymore..I had to taste it before I took another step. However, in the end i had to move farther away from people because my joy and excitement over this pudding could not be contained, and when in the West Village, ALWAYS play it cool...don't get overly excited, ESPECIALLY when it comes to banana pudding, even if it is from Magnolia (though I secretly think all the posh people are inwardly ecstatic). As rich as homemade whipped cream, the pudding does not even deserved to be categorized with pudding...it needs a genre all to itself! Bananas and cake are mixed in, and let me tell you about what I call P.P.D.S., otherwise known as Post Pudding Depression Syndrome, because if you eat this pudding you will inevitably face this when you clean your cup.
1) Don't Panic. Though there is one Magnolia, your waistline will thank you in the end that this treat is not so readily available.
2) Focus on the good times. Like the first bite, don't think about the end; see the pudding cup as half-full, not half-empty.
3) Spread the word. Talking about the pudding is not the same as eating it, but it might bring you some happiness in thinking about it.

And with that I end this entry. The woodshop is calling my name, I have an early morning call time for a photo-shoot for Neiman Marcus (intern work), and if I tell you anymore about this pudding, it might just break your heart. And really who wants a broken heart over pudding?

Cafe Lalo

Joe Fox is meeting Kathleen Kelly, though he doesn't know its Kathleen, but thinks it is the woman he is exchanging e-mails with. The Place: Cafe Lalo, where I have just been with some friends. It is very small and crowded, but the atmosphere is very European cafe...at least that is what they claim, because I have never been to Europe. The pastry case that greets you is full of gorgeous desserts. Yes, gorgeous. Tarts, pies, muffins, eclairs, etc, etc. all made to perfection. Cappacinos and waitresses flying about, couples leaning in and talking close, bright French ads adorning bare brick walls, music floating in the air above, espresso steam hissing...the sounds and colors of Cafe Lalo are the things happy thoughts are made of. Defintately Peter Pan flying material. $15 dollars later and 2 hours later we emerged a group of very happy girls.....

All You Need Is Love

Yesterday was a good day. It did start out somewhat...odd. We had a lecturer come and speak to us on DADA. It is the first of three lectures. Every art historian or artist must deal with Duschamp and DADA at some point, so while I am touch and go with this era in art history, I felt the neccessity to pay attention. The lecture ended with the instructions to produce our own ready-mades and title them...the title and placement in the gallery being what makes/breaks the piece. So ridiculous. I endured 45 minutes of talking about the various objects.

After class I went with Rachel to an art gallery in Soho where we saw the work of Tauba Auerbach. She works with the idea of language and letters and how those are communicated through codes or systems...brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. While we were walking back to the subway (talking about how inferior we felt as artists) we were some of the only people along the sidewalk, except a man coming towards us dressed in all black with large, dark sunglasses on. It looked like Ewan McGregor, so I indiscreetly stared as he walked past and suddenly realized it was him. Now, I have declared a few times since being here (in regards to celebrity sightings) that all I wanted was to see Ewan and my life would be complete. So you can imagine that when I realized it was him I was not very calm....at all. We turned around and watched him duck into a very expensive clothing store, where a clerk was waiting for him, holding the door. It was too much a temptation not to go back and look through the windows. Ok, so yes, it was a very awkward, stalker-like thing to do, but I really don't care because I got to see his face. So the entire day yesterday I had the satisfaction of telling my friends, very casually of course...not too excited...that I had seen Ewan McGregor and I will admit, I really enjoyed the look of envy that came across their faces.....

Check It

Its worth your time. Wait for it to load fully before viewing.

http://www.bravia-advert.com/paint/thead/

Boston, or as some say, Bahstin.

So much has happened in the past two weeks, it is enough to give me material for many entries. However, as the story usually goes, I get so overly excited when great things happen, that if I am not able to put it into words that adequately express how I feel/felt, I tend to shy away from writing them down. I am a very emotive individual, and perhaps those who know me best would say that this can be a fault at times. Excitement and a tendency to laugh a lot may occur on a daily bases. This characteristic was displayed in extreme range last weekend (Oct. 13-15). Midterms were over, and I could finally relax the tension in my shoulders...we were given a whole weekend off (how generous) and Rachel, Silas, and I decided a trip to Boston would be the remedy we needed. Our trip officially started Friday morning, but Thursday night was the beginning of a fantastic vacation when Rachel treated us (the trio previously mentioned) to a steak dinner, courtesy of Warren Simonsen, and please believe me when I say that the steak was a life-changing experience. Perhaps it was so utterly delicious because my New York diet has consisted of considerably meaner fare, or it could be attributed to the end of midterms and a fantastic night out, and it most certainly WAS because it was at no cost to myself, but whatever the specific elements were, when i took a bite of that steak (medium-well, seasoned to perfection) I was tasting a bit of glory, hallelujah.

With Boston on my mind, I almost could not sleep. To some, this is excitement once again taking its reign a bit too freely, but Boston had always sounded so important, so romantic, and so New-England to me that to be on the East Coast and not visit would be nothing short of a crime. Friday, early afternoon, we boarded the Fung Wa bus in Chinatown for a round-trip ticket of $30 and settled into the charter bus seats for a 5 hour ride. The trees and the countryside that opened up suddenly after leaving the city was enough to make you cry. Trees in the most vivid shades of orange and yellow, serene lakes, and wide fields (I had forgotten they existed) swept past us. In moments like these, I can never seem to be rid of the ridiculous smile that creeps and stretches across my face...i can't! And if you know me at all, you will not be surprised that my ipod was in my ears with music appropriatley picked to give a soundtrack experience. And if you know me at all, you will not be surprised when I say that I imagined a great many wonderful and fantastic things on that beautiful drive. And if you happen to know Rachel or Silas at all (and if you don't, just think them as personified characters of sarcasm and practicality) you will guess that they teased relentlessly about my "soundtrack" and made comments regarding the general content of my thoughts, and you will also guess that I tried to defend myself but in the end admitted to the accusations, and you are right, because that is what happened.

Now to write out all that we did would take far too long. That is why bullet-points were invented. (or astericks in my case)

* enjoyed clam chowder after arrival
* walked around the city (albeit at night)
* made trip out to Gordon College (a free, two night stay with friends)
* Saturday: amazed at the campus...that campus is enchanted i'm pretty sure.
* took a 2 hour walk to a beach, the road leading us past forest, sleepy towns, and Captain Dusty's (the ice creamery. though I am not sold on that name)
* small picnic at the beach (but a genuine brisk, New England beach equipped with couples wearing jackets, scarves, and walking dogs)
* Sunday: church...let's be honest, the service was a tad cheesy. Skits are always a risky factor.
* tour of Harvard. and here i might divulge.........i never said i was good with the bullet points

Harvard, and this is regardless of who you are, has a way of making you feel A) that you are not quite smart enough to really REALLY be there, B) and at the same time you feel collegiate and are jealous of Harvard-ites, C) a part of (though microscopic) of a history both intriguing, elite, and slightly romantic in its idea. After our tour of Harvard, we walked to Longfellow's house, situated a few streets down. The house, to say the least, was enchanting (there goes that word again). His gardens, still maintained, were the picture of a perfect garden. No wonder that man was such a great poet, i would be too if I lived in a place that inspiring.

The cold air inevitably drove us into a chocolate shop known for their hot chocolate. To say no would be self-denial and i see no reason for that practice. Especially when we are talking about the best hot chocolate this side of heaven. This tasty beverage would have turned any pessimistic person, any rude, awful, mean person into the kind of person everyone becomes at Christmas..are you following? It was so good that afterwards to frown on the world would mean you are the type who has no heart and is therefore an incurable cynic deserving no pity. Harsh I know, but it was just that good. Life-changing. And on that note, I will not talk too much about our trip home...the depression of once again going back into that urban landscape.

It was the exact thing I needed, and I was able to spend time with Rachel and Silas, without mentioning the A word all weekend, and getting to know them just a bit better. Although I have to say, Silas has endured so much merciless teasing at our hands he will undoubtedly be glad to get back to Biola......


(most photos borrowed from Silas)

Eye Candy, Vol. 2

These are a few really great websites of illustration and design. Thought i would share.
http://www.chelseacardinal.com/
http://www.jennydupont.com/
http://www.slap-press.com/index.html
http://www.paulryding.com/portfolio/
http://www.tuhru.net/elina/index.html

Eye Candy

And I am not talking about some hottie. I went to a Warhol show yesterday featuring many of his works on Mao. They were so lovely...like bright frosting. Someone even asked which my favorite Mao was, which made me laugh. Warhol took this image of the dictator and created something comical and beautiful, even absurd, especially those which looked like he was wearing lipstick. The showcards were gold lettering printed on red leather. You bet I pocketed one.

I finally made it over to the Met, and I think I hyperventilated a few times. However, if I have to hear "no flash photography, no flash photography, no flash photography...." because some stupid tourist is taking their obnoxious photos (seriously, you can find most of these works online) I might just take someone out.

Autumnal Breezes

Something in the air speaks of fall. As I make my way to the studio every morning, I walk along a street where floral vendors are making their way in and out of their shops with plants of all kinds lining the streets for the day's sale. In and out, in and out. I weave my way through the many people crowding the sidewalk, shielding my eyes from the brilliant sun reflecting off the wet cement. The colors of fall are beginning to show, and the air is beginning to smell of cool breezes that require coats and scarves.

The first month is gone. I have worked hard, but I do not know if my work reflects that quite yet. Much of my studio time has been spent working out ideas, or creating small drawings or paintings that will feed into my larger idea. I have 9 days until my midterm project is due...it hardly seems possible, i feel as if i just got here! I have fallen in love with this city. I am not sure if I could ever live here, at least not in the immediate future, but to have the opportunity to live here for one semester has been (so far) an invaluable experience.


I went to an antique market today and found this snapshot. I thought it was very beautiful and i could own it for the price of only $2. I found 5 old glass slides that have some great images on them, but i was unable to scan them in with much clarity. There were so many great things, I ended up spending two hours in this parking garage that is cleared out every weekend for the vendors. One vendor owns a large warehouse and supplied the props for "A Beautiful Mind" and "The Aviator."

This is a shorter post because I must get back to work...those 9 days are going to go by quickly. I will post images of my project soon.
Thanks for reading so far....

MoMA is great, and so is Colin Firth

John Silvis, the director of the NYCAMS program, is a professional networker. He has the magic talent of knowing people who are worth knowing, and because of this ability, he was able to get us a private tour of the MoMA conservation lab. I saw works of Matisse, Duchamp, Andrea Zittel, and Marden undergoing restoration. Our guide began his undergrad as pre-med with a minor in studio work...so odd. But this led him into a career in conservation, which sounds romantic and wonderful to me, however an extensive knowledge of chemistry is needed and unfortunately I fail in that department.

The tour ended, and Jennifer Mills (a fellow student) and I decided that we should get tickets and walk around the exhibits. Students at NYCAMS are required to get a museum membership card ($35) which allows us free and unlimited access to any museum in New York and even across the country. Each member is allowed one guest, so being the thoughtful girls we are, we decided to allow some unsuspecting person a free ride to the MoMA. We found our targets but when we offered them a free ticket, we received the oddest looks. Their english was broken and they didn't understand. I thought the word "free" was pretty universal. After we gave them their tickets, they didn't follow us through the guards, but looked as if they were going to stand in line for tickets!! I don't think our good deed was appreciated.

I was able to finally stand in front of Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon which was an overwhelming experience. There was a room full of his works and it was full of admirers. I am the type of person that does not appreciate crowded museums. I enjoy being able to take my time in front of a painting or work and not feel interupted, but with many of the museums here in NY, you have to be patient with crowded rooms. Please do not take the latter as complaint, because i feel so lucky to be here and have hundreds of museums and galleries at my fingertips. I was thinking today about the ability to create and engage in a visual dialogue that covers issues that are essential to what it means to be human....and once again I was affirmed that being involved in the visual arts is what I was created for. In the film Chariots of Fire, Eric Littel makes the remark to his sister, "I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure." I feel God's pleasure when I engage in the creative process. Although I may become discouraged or frusterated with a project, I cannot imagine doing anything else.

And now for some exciting news.....

I have always been a fan of the BBC Pride & Prejudice and could watch Bridget Jones' Diary over and over...primarily because of the handsome Brit who stars as leading man. As Jenn and I were exiting the Picasso exhibit she stopped and said very quickly, but not discreetly, "i think that guy is famous!" As I turned around to see, Mr. Darcy himself turned around and as our eyes met I swear there was music. Unable to speak I only gawked as Jenn said, "Isn't he the guy from Baywatch?" We will forgive her for this slip....I booked it back to the exhibit and tried to follow him, not very discreetly. There was no way to catch up with him without seeming obnoxious, so we walked to another room that he had to inevitably walk through. Poor Colin knew what we were up to (acting non-chalant was not so non-chalant).

Viewer Discretion Advised

If you enjoy overhearing the conversations of others, like i do, this link should be a source of amusement. But heed the warning, there are conversations recorded that could make the innocent blush.

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/

Fashion Week

I have had a very busy week. Monday night I received a phone call from a set designer who needed help with the Vena Cava show at Olympus Fashion Week. Early Tuesday morning I met him at a large prop store in Manhattan, he quickly gave me the rundown of the show, an envelope of money, and a list of things i needed to buy for him or source. I was about to loose it. WHAT in the world have I agreed to, and can I even do this? But in the words of FDR, the "only thing we have to fear is fear itself." So i hailed my first taxi and spent the next 8 hours managing my checklist and feeling very accomplished. Wednesday night was spent working on prepping some of the props, and I was given the opportunity to put my artistic training to task. Fashion Week is hosting the spring lines of the designers, so the Vena Cava show was designed with spring in mind. Rather than a catwalk, the set designer decided to bring in grass and create vignettes around the room that guests and press could walk up to and take photos. The "birdwatchers" needed to be 'sketching' birds, so out came the charcoal and newsprint and i created 20 sketches of birds to be used in the show.

This photo and many more can be seen on Style.com. Thursday morning did not afford any sleeping in, because I had to wake up before the sun did and run some last minute errands, such as picking up the sign i had printed, and be at Bryant Park for a 9:30 briefing. Rain in New York is not like rain in Seattle (which I can handle), but it seems to get everywhere. The doorman at the St. George is an old Jewish man who stays up late nights letting in the various college students who drag in at all hours. He saw my dismay at the rain, and the 10 bags i was carrying, and he not only gave me a garbage bag to put my things in, but he called me a car and proceeded to talk with me while i waited. I had a negative impression about New Yorkers before I arrived, but I find that most of them are really helpful. some are such characters that I feel as if i'm in a movie and these are all the extras. The driver who picked me up was a born and bred Brooklyn-ite (?) who kept me entertained in traffic with stories of when he was young and stationed in Seattle.

I had to purchase dry ice (to simulate smoke for the "the barbeque") from United Ice on W. 45th, family owned and operated for 5 generations by a family of Italians. Walking in I was greeted with "hey dollface, what can we get for you?" and "are you the fashion people? Hey, look at my hair, do ya think I could be a fashion guy? Do you think this guy could be a fashion guy too?" When I came out of that store, carrying 20 lbs. of dry ice and feeling like my shoulder might disconnect from my body, AND being short on cash for a cab, i proceed to walk up two avenues and over 8 blocks. Now when you are summoned to help with something as glamourous as fashion week, you better be sure that you look good, if only for your own self-esteem. But after I arrived for the briefing, my bangs (which had slipped out of my hood) were wet and drying in a curly, kinky sort of way, not to mention i almost passed out from walking so far with full hands (i guess this is the life of an intern).

The next 3 hours were mayhem. I got separated from our group and had to sneak in with the make-up artists and grab credentials. The show was very prop heavy, and the grass took a long time to unroll and measure, and cut. But in the end it turned out beautiful and I was able to sit and watch socialites, designers, press, and various glamorous people mingle with their wine glasses tinking, stilettos tapping, oohing and ahhing, and gabbing about the fashion displayed on anorexic models. Models look even thinner in real life, and some seemed to be no older than 14.

The designer I am working with, Andrew Ondrejcak, went to the Savannah College of Art and Design for architecture. But he abandoned that and began working with sets, and he also lectures at the MOMA on painting and sculpture. Oh, did I mention Vogue approached him during the Vena Cava show and wants him to style a shoot for them? So fortunately for me, this temporary internship is going to be extended into the long term semester deal. But my story does not stop there....

Part of being an intern in a job like this is the delightful experience of making returns......... I returned an exorbant amount of stuff back to Anthropologie in soho. I think that all of New York was in Soho yesterday, which is bad news when you are pushing a cart through crowded sidewalks. I even knicked some guy in the back of the ankle..oops. And who knew that Broadway and West Broadway were two DIFFERENT streets? Not a girl from the west coast. It took me an hour of walking to find the Anthropologie (I had called earlier and Miss Sassy on the phone would not tell me exactly where they were...she was too busy). After I received the cash for the items, I had to book it up to Harlem where Andrew was shopping for African objects for a traveling booth he is designing for World Concern. By the time I made it to the subway station I was sweating like I had just completed a triatholon (excuse me, for those who say girls don't sweat...try running with a cart through New York. Let's just say i was humbled). There was no attendant in this subway station, which would have solved my problem, because I got stuck in the turnstyle with that damned cart. I am usually a fairly patient person, but Manhattan was faced with a whole different Lauren at that point. For those who do not know, once you swipe your Metro card, you cannot do it again for the next 18 minutes, or you must go to another station. Angry and crying I ran 7 blocks to the next station...the time was ticking. I begged the worker at the next station to let me through a big black door, because there was no way i was going to try and fit the cart through again.

This story ends well, because Andrew got his money and his Africa stuff before it closed, and I was able to pass off to him that ridiculous cart. So while fashion week was a great opportunity, and working with a designer is a good experience, I might just age a bit this semester with the stress I'll deal with being an intern.

art art art

There is something intimidating about creating a project. A topic or theme may give more direction, but the artist must create something out of nothing. A discussion in the Faith and Art class made me think about bending the rules of art. No longer do artists have an academy or school of fine arts where set rules and styles are practiced. Artists now take creative freedom and our post modern culture (and perhaps we have even moved past this as well) has reduced everything down to process. or so it seems. But in order to break the rules, and do it well, wouldn't you have to really know the rules? I have seen some student work that is very naive and immature in it's development. Some people might say that this is their artistic style, but I see so many problems with it. This can be frusterating. So many artists are taking advantage of the loosly structured term "modern art" to excuse bad design or bad projects.

Art is a challenge; it is something that drives the creative person to creation and to solving problems with solutions that are meaningful. Shannon supplied me with this quote:

"When artists reach into their colors or to the notes of a musical core, into the developing solution in a darkroom tray or to the flow of words on a page, they are interacting with the eternity God has placed in their hearts. They are trying to be significant in their universe- trying to mean something more than a random collision of molecules" (although as Christians we have a clearly defined purpose) "Though modern philosophy tells them they are nothing, their hearts tell them something else. Because their minds cannot fathom what their hearts know, they fell the weight of the God-placed burden. Art often seems irrational because the heart is reaching beyond the mind. A modern art museum displays the heart reaching beyond what the mind knows, trying to find the meaning of its existence." -John Fischer.
So while i know that there is bad art, i can understand the need to express or find something and the desire to share that with others.

Oscar the Grouch never had it this good...

New York is great for dumpster diving. People are throwing away things all the time. Lumber, chairs, rugs, clocks, furniture, frames, and anything an artist could want. I found a link (thanks to libby) to a website that people use to report finds throughout the city: http://www.garbagescout.com/ny..#
It is amazing how much trash is accumulated here. NYCAMS students are coming and going from dumpster excursions. I have yet to come across any great finds...

Art supplies should be bought in progression. With an open studio class, the freedom to just work can be overwhelming. I will be slowly collecting the things I need. I made a trip to an art supply store a few days ago. It was a small 4 story building, but you had to pay for your supplies on each floor before you progressed up the next flight of stairs. There is no car with which to load up your purchases...everything must be carried back on the subway. This limits me in grocery shopping as well.

Peas and Pickles is cute..but expensive. Most places take cash here, even when dining out. Small restaurants will often seat you next to strangers. Though everyone is in close proximity here, people find a way to create their own personal space. Listening to iPods, declining eye contact, and even a way of walking gives an attitude of independence that others recognize as a personal boundary.

This subject is what I am studying through my work this first half of the semester. Personal vs. Private space is our first assignment. This may be looked at in many different ways with many different mediums. So while it seems a big subject to tackle, I will be working up to my "big idea" by creating sketches and small projects that will be due every Monday and open for critique.

Yesterday Professor Romaine took us to the Jewish Heritage Museum where we saw the work of Eva Hesse.

She uses fiberglass and latex to create her structures. She was responding to Minimalism in most of her work. I could say much about her work, but I will let you find out more about her.


We went to the Guggenheim and studied the work of Pollock and Kandinsky. While I am not a Pollock fan, I can appreciate what he was trying to accomplish with the recording of action and the process his work took. However the museum itself was my favorite work of art there. Frank Lloyd Wright was the architect behind this building that takes you progressively upward on a spiral ramp.

Must get to work, but will write again soon,
Lauren

Pineapple and Henry

I can barely catch breath after arriving here on Thursday…I have been shuffled about the city and spend most of my time (or so it seems) riding on the 1,2, or 3 between Manhattan and Brooklyn Heights. I am living in the St. George Hotel; a building that was once a middle class hotel and is now residence to students from all over the country. I live on the 6th floor overlooking Pineapple Street and Henry. Low-lighting in the pumpkin colored hallway reflects off the walls creating a dull glow, but my room is bright from the light of two large windows. An old fire escape and the rooftop gardens of the crowded blocks meet my view, while the steady Brooklyn Bridge stands tall in the distance. Shannon, my roommate for the semester and immediate friend, greeted me as I shuffled four large suitcases into the room.

My dad decided to visit this city and to help me move in. Several of the girls from NYCAMS live next door, and upon seeing an adult, latched on and traveled with us on our trip to the only Target in Brooklyn. I have never been in a more crowded Target, and when I am traveling with a crowd of people, in an already crowded place, I tend to find my patience waning. After 45 minutes in line we made our way back to the St. George.

Early on Friday, Dad and I walked to Battery Park where we met a ferry that took us to Liberty Island. And though I am embarrassed to admit, I grabbed the audio headset for the self guided tour. Ellis Island was a three story, two hour trip that was an information overload. The man-made island served as the immigration center for New York. Most of the newly arrived immigrants were made to wait on the island for days, and sometimes weeks before processing was finished.

Broadway on a whim is instant gratification…that is if you can find tickets right before the performance. Dad and I were lucky enough to get two tickets on the main floor for the showing of Wicked at the Gershwin. Well worth the money…it is an enchanting play and one I will remember for a long time.

The NYCAMS building sits on 28th and 6th. The 7th floor belongs to the school and is complete with studio space, a gallery, woodshop, darkroom, computer room, and a student lounge/kitchen space. My studio has a direct view of the Empire State building and lets in plenty of light.

The students here are varied. There are those from small towns, and those from the West Coast. Shannon is from APU, but though our schools may be rivals we get along really well. I have enjoyed seeing how people react to one another. There is a slight
one-upmanship that is slowly fading. We do not know each other as artists yet, and there seems to be a desire to throw out names or articulate ourselves well in order that others may see us as established artists. I had to fight the desire to do that…because in the end, I know that I am only trying to convince myself of my own abilities and no one else.

If you take Henry street up a few blocks and turn right on Montague, you are placed on a quiet street (relatively quiet) with used book stores, restaurants, a deli, and buildings with fires escapes and molding that seems straight out of a movie. I am sitting at a Starbucks as I write this. The coffee company has successfully done their job…no matter the city, you may find a Starbucks and instantly feel a recognizable, and welcoming feeling...I made a beeline for a table. There is so much to report I will have to end here. It is time for dinner and I must stop at an ATM. The price of groceries and food here is another story entirely…

Another Chapter

Stepping forward is easier said than done. New York was months away when I received acceptance. It sat over there, on the other side of a bright summer, only a distant thought. In less than 7 days I will move forward to take this opportunity I have dreamed of for so long. But I have never been so anxious. It is the thought of the unknown that keeps me up at night. Am I good enough? Will I succeed?

I have talked to a few friends back at Biola about their new classes and all the new faces the freshman class brought in. I feel like I need to be there with my other classmates as we finish our last year of college. But this is not the time to think of what I am missing out on, but what I am going to gain by taking this opportunity.

My summer is ending on a sweet note. I am able to share in the marriage of two wonderful people, enjoy the company of old friends, some new friends, and some out of town guests. Although I always hope that summer will continue forever, I suppose it is good that it comes to an end. It now waits on the other side of this year, and I will be meeting it again having been changed for the better.