America: The Weird Monkey and What I Learned in Spain.

City Center, Madrid

For the last month, people keep asking me “How was Spain!?” “How was Spain!?” My answer is always:

Magical.

It was magical.

If you don’t know, I just spent two months in Spain. If you don’t know why I went to Spain, here it is in a nutshell. When I was very young (9, 10), I caught the travel bug. I have been sick with this bug all of my life. I would go to the library at school and always look at the foreign language books. I checked out the French ones and studied and studied them, because my love for foreign country and language had already incubated and hatched.  My family, bless them, never had the finances to travel, so I grew up without seeing much of the world. When I turned 18, I started to travel around the USA a bit (The West coast and East coast) and this only made my longing to hop over the pond grow stronger.

Last March, I was sitting in my apartment, looking up foreign travel online, when it suddenly dawned on me that I am going to be 23 (When I tell older people this part, they always chuckle like I don’t know what I am talking about). But that’s just it. I am going to be 23. Like a lot of people, I have this “life plan” to have my first child when I am 28. 5 years.

That gives me 5 years to see the whole world. Ok, I know, a bit dramatic.

I had an internal panic attack when I realized that if I wanted to travel, I just needed to do it. So, all of these options were running through my head. I am not rich by any means, and I have an apartment, car, phone, etc. here that I need to pay for. I needed to find something that paid.

Being an au pair.

An au pair is pretty much a live-in nanny. You help a family in another country with day to day life in exchange for free room and board and a small stipend every week. This was exactly the thing I was looking for as I was a nanny back home already. (I will write another blog soon about being an au pair)

So, I found a family that I had this really great gut feeling about (seriously, always trust your gut), and I bought my tickets to go to Spain for two sunny months and help teach their children English. 

Beautiful Spain, Extremadura Region.

I was so nervous when I got on the plane to NYC. I was going to a foreign country, alone, where I don’t speak the language, to live for two months with people I had never met. Ok, I am crazy. 20 hours later, I stepped out of the airport in Madrid and my adventure was beginning.

The first couple weeks were really difficult because their sleeping and eating schedule is way different than here. I am the average American when it comes to eat and sleep (Eat eggs, toast, some fruit or something in the morning, a snack like a granola bar, have a light lunch (a sandwich and some chips),  have another snack, crackers or something, then have a dinner of pasta, soup, potatoes, something like that- go to bed around 11, maybe 12, then wake around 8 or 9 and start again). Small meals with lots of snacking.

I went to Spain during their Holiday, so their schedule was crazy! Wake up around 10 or 11 and have a piece of toast, if anything at all, don’t eat anything else until sometime between 2 and 4, when you will eat a lot! Their lunch is like a huge dinner! Then, take a nap! After that, don’t eat again until sometime between 10 and midnight (keep in mind this is a holiday schedule that my family had and isn’t necessarily the same for everyone on Holiday, but it will be similar for all families),  another huge meal, then, stay up until sometime between 2 and four, then do it all over again.

It was really hard to get used to it, honestly, but after 3 weeks or so, my body was adjusted completely (which is about how much time it took me to readjust when I got home too).

So. Spain. Magical.

Go to Spain.

The people there are so hospitable and friendly. In Spain, instead of shaking hands or hugging, you kiss each other’s cheeks. People usually think of this as a French thing, but it is in Spain too. The people in Spain are so much more intimate, and way more honest. It is beyond refreshing. Every person you meet is your friend from the start (unless you bump into them on the street… people bump into each other every which way and just look mad!). 

There is me on the far right, and friends I made on the left. Watching the sunset in Madrid!

I miss this about Spain. Here, in America, in general, we are so closed off from each other and from strangers. Sure, we make small talk with everybody (the cashier, the waitress, the person in line behind us), but that’s all on the surface. We live our own lives and don’t include the world in it. I stepped back from the USA and got an interesting perspective of it. I could finally relate the USA to something. I had never been able to compare it to another country, because I had never lived in another country, or even been outside of my own. We are lacking something, socially, in America. Spain has this special magic, where friends are made and you feel connected to other people in the world. It isn’t “Me against the world.” It is “Me and the world. Me and my world, your world, our world. This world belongs to me, and I to it, and we to each other.” Family, friends, strangers, together.

I think it has something to do with alone time. In the USA, I spend large parts of the day alone. This just doesn’t happen in Spain. The only alone time I got was when I was sleeping or showering. You are constantly socializing. And we, as everybody knows, are social animals. We need society. We need conversation. We need a lot of it, and in Spain, you get a lot of it. There is no time to sit alone and let your mind go to terrible places, let it worry, let it marinate in anger or grief. You are with other people, constantly lifting them up, and them lifting you up.

I found this in France too. I went to Paris for one week and saw the exact same structure there. You are with people, always.

Then I thought about this documentary I watched before I left for Europe about monkeys and grief. The monkeys were always together. If a monkey wanted to be alone, it was really strange behavior. And that’s it. That’s us. We have somehow turned into a society where we are the weird monkey who wants to be alone (maybe it stems from the Puritan era, where it was important to be reserved and with God only, always). We cherish our private time. After two months of being with people, all day, every day, I dreaded being alone again. I spend large parts of my day alone, as my boyfriend works and my hours are different than his usually.

Maybe that is why the most common complaint I hear from my fellow Americans is “I feel lonely.”

Of course you feel lonely. Of course we are lonely.

I think that is also why Americans are glued to their phones, social media, and texting. We are craving each other’s company so badly, but are disjointed because we were raised in a society where we spend a lot of time alone (ok, bear with me, I am not a sociologist or anthropologist. This is all observation and opinion).

We need each other so deeply.

We are in constant contact with friends on our phones, but it isn’t the same. You press the send button on your Iphone and you are alone again.

One of the most important things I learned in Spain was about my own culture. I grew up adoring other countries because they had such obvious culture and history. They were old, rich in experience, sturdy in a way of life. Where is our culture? I don’t feel connected to anything old. Kings, queens, nothing. I am this American who has no idea what country my long lost relatives originated from. My family line doesn’t come from one place.

But, in Spain, looking at the USA from afar, from another culture, I found my culture. It hit me in the face. Everybody I talked to “Oh! You are from America! Wow! I LOVE American culture! I want to go to the USA so badly!” “I think it is so neat that you have ancestors from all over the world. A descendant of those with a traveler’s heart.” “Your ancestors were brave!” “I love your accent!” “Tell me about America.” “What is the difference between grilled cheese and mac n cheese?  Is there a difference?” (Ok, that question came from just one person, but I loved it).

I am a descendant of those with traveler’s hearts.

And we are connected to the world. Sure, we are that weird monkey that wants to be alone, and is still figuring out how to make it work, but we are connected to the world. Just as I wanted to go to Spain, or France, people want to come here.  And just as Spain is a culture rich in social gatherings and food (I think we could learn something from this), we are a culture rich too.

I think that everybody needs to go abroad and for an extended period of time if possible. You gain perspective, experience, more knowledge, and, it is true, you learn a lot about yourself along the way.

If you want to make it happen, you can make it happen.

Anything can happen.

 

Cadiz, Spain

(more blogs about specific cities in Spain, food, and more to come. If you are interested in going abroad and want to make it happen, contact me. I would love to help someone achieve this! I don’t have any money to give, but I have lots of advice and guidance!)

Art in the Whiteaker.

Yesterday, I packed up my newest art (and some old favorites) and drove downtown, into the Whiteaker, to hang my art for the second Friday Art Walk. I walked into the small yoga studio, Studio 508 (check it out! I met one of the teachers, Krislyn, a fellow artist, and she was so funny and sweet!). 


We hung my art and finished early (my art is light and easy to hang!), then went to New Day for some coffee. The streets of the Whiteaker were hopping last night, as it was the art walk and there was a local glass blowing contest in the area too. 

The art show opened at 6, and 15 minutes before that, we had a couple people come in. There was a good crows of people at the show and they all had nice things to say! 

I think people were really interested in the work that I had made. I heard "delicate", "soft", "love the colors." a lot. People wanted to know about my process and medium and weren't shy to ask me. 

I don't want to go into my process too much, but for this new series, I made a very high contrast piece of art and printed it directly onto a clean sheet of paper. After the "print", I went back in with a variety of different art tools and finished the piece. 

It ended up being soft, ephemeral, and very intimate in appearance. 

I think many people will respond positively to this series (and they did last night) because it's so gentle while maintaining complex and intricate. People look into these space I have created as if they are looking for something. It is an interactive wall piece in that sense, where the viewer feels as if he or she is meant to pull something out of it. Not only that, I also use colors that are very personal to humans because they all stem from my interest in natural skin tones (the shade of a natural blush, or the subtle pop of blue under someone's skin. I think that people are drawn to these organic colors. 

I am so excited about this show! I am going to work on showing it in some other galleries next year. I will be sure to update everyone on it! 

:)

Guests viewing some of my older work

Two of the pieces from my new works.

New piece.

 

 

 

Another new one.

                                                                               
                             

Another.

 
                            

UO Graffiti

Everyday, I see a lot of graffiti in Lawrence Hall (where I spend the majority of my time/aka the School of Architecture and Allied Arts) everyday while I am on break or walking around... There is a ton! Today, I took some quick snapshots of some graffiti that I found.

There's a lot more that I will post eventually. It's kind of neat to see what people feel like putting on the walls.

  

Letterpressing help?

 1998

 That's some bad art. 

 A bit outdated...

 Tsunami Lockers.

 Very deep or just silly?

 Love.

UO. 

Duck for Life.

Oh, I Can Hear the Birds.

A friend of mine has been working on these very abstract pieces in black ink for awhile now, while I have been working on soft, feminine abstracts. In the art school that we go to, we are strongly encouraged to do abstract work. He and I both like doing the figure, but are trying out abstract (I am having a really good time with it). 

He is an Art major, like myself, and is studying abroad here from the Middle East (his English is pretty good). I have known him for almost a year now and have found his opinions on art very helpful.

Today, my friend was not in class. 

Halfway through the class, pastel all over my hands, a cup of tea, and exhaustion that popped up out of nowhere, my friend walked into the door, holding his tool box. This friend of mine is always on time, so I was curious to hear why he was that late. Usually when someone is that late, the person doesn’t even bother to show up to studio at all.

“Man, what’s up with you being so late? Fuck!” another artist in the room exclaimed (this guy's drawings are pretty standard, but his paintings are huge and beautiful. He is very interesting because he has traveled all over the place and has a ton of stories about his “party” days). A few people snickered and my friend grinned.

The professor walked in from his office.

“ah, I see you decided to show up. Where were you?”

I wasn’t watching them, but I was listening as I drank my tea and closed my eyes.

“Well,” he hesitated, “I wasn’t feel right this morning. I’m just tired. I don't know. Off.”

“You’re tired? Well come to class anyway.” the professor said.

“Yes… I just, actually, I feel lost. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well if you come to class, I can tell you what to do.”

Our professor set up a small still life and gave him a piece of black chalk and a piece of white chalk and a giant chalk board. He pointed to the still life and then to the chalkboard. “Draw this on here.”

So, he drew.

He drew for over an hour. I could see him out of my eye, constantly measuring, looking, measuring, looking, breathing, looking, drawing, looking. (see how much looking is involved with drawing? When observing, you look more than you draw so you can draw what you have seen. If you haven’t seen much, you can’t draw much)

The class was over and I was still cleaning up my studio space, collecting all of the colored pencils that had fallen off my table. My tea was cold now.

I looked up at my friend’s drawing and it was the best drawing that I had seen him do! It was so alive and full of energy and passion!

I exclaimed his name. “That’s so beautiful!” He smiled and looked at his drawing again.

“You know,” he said. “I have been feeling very lost. Like, this morning, I do not know where my art is going or where I am going or what to do.”

I told him I understand the feeling. It’s hard to enjoy art class when you feel lost. I asked him if he liked his drawing. He said that he did.

“You know,” he said again. “There are some artists who don’t like their paintings. Then, there is an audience who also does not like his painting. So, if nobody likes his paintings, what is the point?

If you are not happy, and your audience is not happy, who is happy?”

I nodded and looked at his drawing again. The values were so breathtaking. It was sad and refreshing that this drawing would be wiped away. It was only chalk on a chalkboard.

He went on. “I want to do classical painting. It’s all I want to do, but they tell me to do abstract, and, you know, I use the ink and the paper and do the motion with my hand and I don’t feel anything.”

I nodded again.

“You know, art used to be about community. In the classical time, art was about the people. Painting was the heart of culture.”

“yes,” I said. “Painting was like the newspaper, kind of. It was an open dialogue about current events and current beliefs.”

“Yes,” he said. “But now, there isn’t that dialogue. The artist is the one who does not want to talk. Who does not want company. Who wants to be alone. The artist expects everyone to pay for what he do, but he does not communicate with them. He will not talk to them. He wants to be paid for work that he don’t like and that the audience don’t like. Why is this?”

He looked at his drawing again.

“I have been thinking a lot about my meaning, lately, spiritually. And I think the meaning of life is that we are supposed to help each other. Architects go to school to help people. Doctors go to school to help people. Artists go to school, but for why? To help themselves? Where has the communication gone?”

I have no idea.

“I respect contemporary art, but I don’t see it in nature. Cézanne said that you will know if a painting is good by putting it against nature. If it works in nature, it is a good painting. If it does not, it is not. I love this quote. I go into the museum and I see a big canvas with precise, technical stripes of color. They are absolutely perfect lines. No mistake. No bump. No human. Where are the mistakes? Where is the human? I don’t see human in that. And when I paint like that, I don’t feel like a human.”

I kept listening. He needed to vent, and I think I needed to listen to what he had to say.

“Everybody likes a classical painting. And classical music. It’s like you cannot hear instruments at all. When you hear it, you do not say ‘oh, it is a guitar,’ you say, “oh, I can hear the birds.” 

...There is a reason that the audience of the symphony is always full. People have not changed. Technology has changed and the way we do things has changed, but people… no. People, they do not change. It’s like Egypt. Egypt influenced Greek Art and Greek Art influenced Roman Art and Roman Art influenced the entire Western Art World. We look at western art, and there is a touch of Egypt in it. We all have a touch of Egypt in us.”

I didn’t know what to say to him. It’s like I had an epiphany about why I create the work that I do.

I make art because I want to. But I want to communicate with my audience. I don’t want to just be an artist who works and works without a thought for who I create work for. The entire world is my audience and I have access to an open dialogue.

“I know exactly what you mean. Your drawing is really beautiful.”

“Yes, I feel so much movement. The lines… here, there. They move… I want to create work for the people, even though the people do not know what they want. When you go into a store, you see a t-shirt and you say ‘OH! This is perfect. This is for me,’ but you did not know about the t-shirt before. You just saw it now, but you know it is for you. That is how art is. This drawing… when I draw real life and I draw a drawing that I would like to see… that is when I feel human.”

 

Wednesday.

 It rained again today, but what can I expect living in Western Oregon?

Little eraser animals that are all the rage with elementary school kids..."Take Apart Erasers."

The girl that I babysit insisted that the Dolphin needed to be in water. So that's what we did! :)

 Beautiful patterns.

I love keeping my eye out for gorgeous patterns.

This embroidered pattern really caught my attention today.

Lookin' cool in rainy weather.

My boyfriend accidentally broke my new sunglasses, but I happened to find this other pair that I had.

I also have a new necklace from Sigrid Anne Design. 

Sigrid is super sweet and I would definitely suggest doing business with her! :)

And, alas, the shade of a Rhododendron bush makes for great refuge from the rain and also pretty views.

I could see the afternoon light from a small little opening as the kiddo and I looked for small pebbles to put in the toy dolphin's new "tank." 

I spent a couple hours with Charlie this morning. Our schedules are very off, so we enjoy our time together (the little time we have).

We watched the season finale of Bates Motel.

We watched the entire season. It is a very bizarre prequel to the movie "Psycho." If you like morbid, mysterious plots, this may be for you.

Plus, the story line is based Southern Oregon, so that's kind of fun. Watch with discretion because the show is pretty weird and definitely not for everyone.

If you like American Horror Story or Law and Order SVU, you might like this.






Have a beautiful Thursday!