Hands folded neatly in her lap

This phrase has nagged me ever since I came across it many years ago.  Only the phrase remains in my memory; its origin is lost.  When I typed this phrase into a search engine recently, I realized it's not only a meme, it's code for a harmless, valueless woman...

The Urban Dictionary uses this phrase in explaining the term "Dignified Doormat":  "A soft-spoken woman who sits with her hands folded neatly in her lap and smiles graciously while her husband runs the country into the ground," citing former First Lady Laura Bush as an example.

A book with a character called China Sorrows also sits with her hands folded neatly in her lap.  Another character, Cath, not only sits with hands folded, etc., but also with knees tucked underneath her body (sounds even more uncomfortable).  A 99-cent downloadable eromance places the heroine "primly on the carriage seat" in addition to the hands thing.  Another character "summons all her self control" to sit still with her back straight and, yes, hands folded... you know the rest.

So how do you sit with improperly folded, untidy hands in your lap?  Do you make Keith Moon arabesques in the air above your lap instead?  https://www.morrisonhotelgallery.com/photo/default.aspx?photographID=3224 (please note that this image is copyrighted by Al Satterwhite).  Do you just casually flip the bird (like Don Stevenson on the cover of the first Moby Grape record http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moby_Grape_(album) with one of those neat hands until someone notices?

Hands, and feet too, have long been a subject of aesthetic expression, symbolism and controlled movements, both figuring crucially in ritual and popular dance.  During the American Civil War, Freemasons proffered secret hand signals to the enemy when captured in the effort to stay alive, with success when recognized by a fellow Mason. 

I won't go into the whole foot fetish thing here, there's undoubtedly more than enough of that stuff on the internet already.  Let it suffice to say that footwear speaks volumes about one's lifestyle.
 
http://www.cmog.org/artwork/2-beaded-slippers-bound-feet  Thanks to the Corning Museum of Glass for this image of footwear that has tiny glass beads covering the entire surface including the soles.

If you didn't have to work for a living in the Middle Ages, you could wear sleeves long enough to cover your hands, clearly marking you as someone who never gets close to a broom. 

Moderns have a love-hate relationship with these gracious women who sit with their hands folded neatly in their laps.  Who is the least cool person who dares to claim space in the world of culture?  Not the snarky, debt-laden art school grad impatiently waiting for you to decide what to order; that's more like feeling sorry for spawning salmon. 

Not the comically unaware mythical middle-americans; they can't be touched since they don't care what you think.  Not overpaid, overhyped art stars, even if you think you hate them; because deep down you wanna win the lottery too (okay, not you, just the other three people who read this).

No, the most sincere scorn is reserved for the Matron, the Lady of Leisure.  Not a struggling young mom twisting earwires between potty-training sessions; not the heroic iconoclast spraying paint onto the side of a building at 3am. 

Save your ire for the one below on the right, who donates time to a charitable arts group, part of the duties that come with marrying one of the wealthiest capitalists in the western hemisphere (that's him at left):

http://www.nytimes.com/1998/01/11/magazine/woman-ascending-a-marble-staircase.html?pagewanted=print 

Pretty f'n far from edgy, eh?

That's the macro version.  Micro versions abound---everyday middle-aged women who have some spare change to throw toward non-credit art classes and materials, who appear to be blissfully unconcerned by art and craft world storms.  They're coming from a safe place and going to a safe place.  They're hardly clueless; they might look ironically at Bob Ross and Thomas Kincade (described by critic Jed Perl as "catnip for psychopathologists"
http://www.tnr.com/book/review/thomas-kinkade#); they might visit or even participate in the local Open Studios, but the assumption is that they're not terribly willing to get uncomfortable. 

Doesn't sound like a big deal, does it?  Well... it has literally unhealthy consequenses.  Kate McKinnnon's critiques of the dangerously casual handling of craft-class safety issues by hobby professionals and organizations http://katemckinnon.wordpress.com/2010/05/29/i-get-mail/ (also see her many related posts) offer evidence that these hobbyists are considered to be little more than expendable money-printing machines.  Not a tragedy on anywhere near the order of magnitude of the Bangladeshi garment factory workers, but one that clearly has a negative effect on many ordinary people.

So how to flesh out these marginally-more-subtle-than-playground-bully cultural assumptions?  Well, with my level of resources and high-ranking contacts... lampooning this subject through bead-weaving, of course.  I had the privilege of collaborating with glass artist Laura Bowker (http://www.lbglass.net/) recently.  Laura trusted me with the engraved glass disc bead near the center of the photo at top.  I decided to make a purposely-marginally-wearable ring with it. 

As I worked, I thought about wearability, function, restriction, ornament, assumed roles... and decided to make a ring with an extra loop to allow the wearer to Keep Her Hands Folded Neatly in Her Lap.  The second loop blends in so it's not clearly seen, kind of like the just-below-the-radar ways we try to keep each other in line.

Having to work around a non-ergonomic device, whether it's wearing art jewelry or reaching for the windshield wiper button in a 1968 Dodge Dart, changes your orientation and even your immediate reality.  Cars that are almost too easy to drive lull us into driving too fast and texting. 

You have to pay a bit more attention when piloting a 1934 Ford coupe with mechanical brakes and no power steering, than you would with a modern car (I know, car fans, this one probably has newer running gear; sure looks nice, though).  Ever have to bring a car to a stop after the engine dies?  You'll put that phone down pretty fast.

Wearing art jewelry sometimes means making allowances.  You might have to give up the wheel to another driver, you can't get your coat on and off, you can't fall asleep on the couch without wrecking it.  What does this to to your awareness?

A Nudge (and maybe even a Wink) in the Right Direction

I know better.  I know I should know better.  My better self knows better.  Yet I listen to the doubter---until someone reminds me of what I know. 

Why do I have to remind myself that conventional wisdom is an oxymoron?  Because the doubter is a seductive mofo.  It snakes its way in when my work gets turned down for an exhibit, when my bank balance is a single digit, when getting three things done means that I have ten things left to do.  Should I make things that are more "affordable"?  Should I get a JOB?

Artists who have day jobs battle for time to create.  Strategies abound.  The chapter "Generating Income:  Alternatives to Driving a Cab" in "How To Survive and Prosper as an Artist" has more cautionary tales than anything else.  The blogosphere's arteries are clogged with advice-givers preying on people hoping to swap a put-up-with-it/stable-paycheck job for a work-I-love/someday-I'll-get-paid job (see "Caveat Vendor" below).

Artists who don't have day jobs battle for time to create.  Guess what happens before your devoted clients snap up every painting/book/performance the moment your earnest, authenticity-soaked, excellent product emerges?  You find out the hard way that the electric company isn't into barter.  Think all you have to do is snag a sugar daddy?  How much time will you have for art-making when s/he gets Altzheimer's?

Enter more specific types of advice-givers, namely:

1.  People who have never had any source of income outside of their parents and their steady job (useless but mean well)

2.  People who have tried to make it in your field and failed (avoid 'em---guess whose ego will be crushed further if you succeed?)

                                              

I'm getting to the uplifting part right now, I promise.

Enter a lady I met last Friday, a friend of a friend who quickly called bulls#it on my attempt to make "affordable" artworks.  She praised the open-weave foot-high 'towers' pictured below, and we discussed ways to make them fit on your coffee table without tipping over. 

Until she saw the pieces pictured below and forgot all about the others.  She didn't really call me out on the pieces above.  All she did was look me in the eye and say, "You have to keep making things like this."  The scary part is, these are a lot less affordable than the ones above.  The un-scary part is, I've sold three of them. 

So I'm reminding myself (and encouraging you) to battle on, even though in my case it means creating things that no one in their right mind would try to make, much less sell.  That might sound counterintutive, but every time I've tried to produce accessible/affordable things, it's fallen flatter than a pancake.  So I have to go back out into the unknown. 

"Sure" things keep people putting up with what they hate.  The final stages of hypothermia are just as seductive.  "Wake up and smell the pavement," I used to hear back in the punk day.  Better to wake up and smell the pavement than to sleep forever.

Beads and Wheels

Anything with a hole in it is a bead.  A wheel is a bead.  A skull is a bead.  Anything that can be pierced can become a bead. 

Records are beads, with that hole in the center.  Maybe that's why vinyl records still sound better than mp3s.  Yeah, I'll get to the point real soon.  Keep your shirt on (shirts have holes, too...)

I visited the Detroit area last week to teach beadweaving workshops for the Great Lakes Beadworkers Guild (a group of incredibly talented and imaginative artists), which turned out to be another incredible confluence of things with holes:  beads, records, righteous motor vehicles, and abandoned houses.  All of these can communicate beauty, individuality, political statements, and discussions.

Kim Werker, a much more devoted blogger than me, has a great post about ways people approach their creativity. 

http://www.kimwerker.com/2011/08/24/dear-crafts-can-we-see-other-people/

Some take a more mechanical/rote approach, to make something that satisfies, with others the medium is only a vehicle for the idea.  The way content interacts with the medium intrigues me.  Do you want to make 100 pairs of identical earrings?  More power to ya!  Do you want to make something that makes people stare at you?  I dare ya!  Do you want a car that can get you from point A to point B?  A car that can make a loud noise and a funny smell when you do a burnout?  Do you want your song to give a lonely adolescent something to relate to?

By the way, thanks to Rhonda Gross, who let me have her old records before they went to the thrift store, and took me to the Woodward Dream Cruise, and Gail Foster, who took me back to the Dream Cruise and regaled me with tales of growing up in the Detroit suburbs.

http://womc.radio.com/shows/woodward-dream-cruise-2/ 

Now, making housing seems pretty rote---get permits, round up a bunch of people who know what they're doing, buy lumber, drywall, pipes, dig a hole, etc.  But ever step inside a 100- or 200-year old house?  One with a ghost or two?  How'd all that mojo get in there? 

Using abandoned houses for artistic, cultural, and political discourse takes a lot of committment, time, and in Tyree Guyton's case, persistence (his artworks have been bulldozed by officials twice in the last 25 years).  That didn't stop him; he's not only got a non-profit group that benefits his neighborhood and schoolkids from all over, he's been awarded an artist residency in Switzerland.  His artwork is incredible and his people skills are world-class. 

Many thanks to Linda Darmes, who took me to visit Tyree Guyton's Heidelberg Project (http://www.heidelbergproject.org/ ---named after the street he lives on) as well as the Detroit Institute of the Arts.

So I see holes as opportunities, and whether you use these opportunities to make something that quietly gets you from point A to point B, that goes with the color of your neice's eyes, that shelters someone, that calls for a solution to something that bums everyone out, or that makes funny noises and moves real fast, the coolest part is that it came from something very intangible, the imagination.  The imagination has an unmatched power-to-weight ratio!

Images copyright 2011 Teresa Sullivan

So Beautiful It's Spooky, Even in Broad Daylight

A few months ago we drove part way up the Hood Canal to buy a used drum set, and on the way we copped an incredible view of the Cushman Hydroelectric Power Station built in 1930.  At the time it was dark and foggy, so it looked like something out of the movie Metropolis. 

So my very significant other and I took advantage of a non-rainy day to go back.  A good omen for the trip was spotting a righteous 1964 Pontiac on the way there.  It took us enough time to pass it for me to notice a badge on it that said "pmd6".  More on that part later.

This is why you can't drive from Hoodsport (on the Hood Canal) to Forks (on the Pacific Ocean) without hugging the coastline.  These are in the 7,000-foot range.

It looked like it hadn't changed much since the 1920s when my Grandma lived there.  It's not easy to reach from Seattle and the terrain is too rugged for anything too far beyond digging clams.

A bald eagle, ready to relieve itself on the head of anyone who dares use its image for phony political props.

A former burger stand that does J.G. Ballard proud.  It might sound like hipster-creep to a local, but un-gentrified areas like this thrill my soul.

This building looks like it was built around the same time as the power station. 

Now I have to go back to capture pictures of the radly painted fireworks stands with names like "IllEagle" and "BadAzz"...

So what's an old Pontiac got to do with all this natural beauty?  I'll spare you the discussion about the difference in the use of natural resources in buying a new car every 4 years vs. keeping the same car running for 47 years and link to this article about the rare engine belonging to the "pmd6"-labeled cars (scroll down to the part describing the "pushrod 215" heading) and this picture of another 1964 Pontiac and this Popular Mechanics review of the 1963 model (these were considered compact cars and could get 24 mpg).  Vrrrrrooooom!

Got Leftovers? Make Soup!

I'm not the most uptight bead artist, but too much stuff on the work table leads to a stuck feeling.  Having some pre-threaded needles left over from a workshop finally got to me and I decided to use them. 

The wide range of thread colors at first threw me.  I decided to disregard the usual color-coordinating niceties and just mess around and try odd things.  I used mostly translucent beads, so I could see what effect the thread color had on the pieces.

To live up to my reputation as someone who digresses, here's a digression about my workspace. 

Unlike many beadweaving artists, I use a white ceramic plate (I like my beads to mix and I like to see them).  The little blue rectangles are elbow rests I cut out from a mouse pad.  The bead needles are stuck to magnetic business cards (the ones that you see on the phone book).  The plate sits on a small box, so I don't hunch over the work (preventing neck strain is 99% of the cure).  The stereo is not in the picture but it's nearby.

Freed from any notion of purpose, usefulness or immediate saleability, you can develop ideas that are purposeful, useful and even saleable...

The piece above is woven with aqua colored thread; the one below is woven with orange thread.  Makes a difference when you use translucent (see-through) beads, even in such a strong color.

The red piece is woven with dark blue thread (see what it does to the beads compared with those in the image above?) and the gold with purple.  The gold is not translucent, so the color isn't affected---except at the ends of the fringe pieces, where the thread is exposed.

I saved the thread that I could use for a "real" project for last.  I came up with the cone shapes while messing around, of course.

I've kept a pen and pencil and paper by the bed for years, on the advice of none other than science fiction writer A. E. Van Vogt.  What happens is that by bedtime, as your mind relaxes, ideas about what to do with all this nutty stuff bubble up.  About 20 - 30% of what's written down might be useful.

It's daunting to invest time in just messing around in such an intricate medium, so I'll be launching a tutorial (maybe a series of 'em) called Guided Improvisation on http://www.craftedu.com/.  It'll be kind of like Hansel and Gretel leaving bread crumbs behind them so they don't get lost... except that the bread crumbs don't get eaten... and there's no witch...

Full Circle: You CAN Have It Both Ways... from one work of art to another

I use found materials in my work. "Found object" is really just a fancy, generic name for non-traditional components used in a piece of art. Most of the raw materials I use are glass beads, which can take lots of different forms, but if you expand the notion of "bead" to include anything with a hole in it, this form can take you far and wide.

When creating hanging collages for the "Station Identification" exhibit last year, I strung together 29-cent bead and sequin packages, game pieces, and other things that poke fun at some craft artists' attempts at elitism and fine-art-world-acceptance.  Each corner of the exhibition space had a theme, the black-and-white theme being the either/or attitudes that begat the "this is art/that's not art" silliness. 

I used an old on/off switch that I'd found at a garage sale to finish off the bottom of the hanging collage.  How much more either/or can you get than an on/off switch? 

Last year when I was sorting through my beads-and-wacky objects stash for this piece, my very significant other George spotted the switch and wanted to commandeer it for his music gear stash. It's a good switch, nice and snappy; bad ones get wiggly and can go to the other position when you don't want them to. Being the one who found it, though, I called dibs on it and used it to wire the "Gleem" silver ribbon spool positioned under the rubber shrunken head.

"Station Identification" installation view

It traveled with the rest of "Station Identification" to Mesa Arts Center in Arizona last January (http://www.mesaartscenter.com/), came back to Portland and then visited Guardino Gallery in July (sans the Fruit Chew corner, which found a new home), and came to rest back in my basement. It's still in the basement, but it underwent a transformation two nights ago.

Rear view of Traynor amplifier, new home for the on/off switch

Two nights ago George was fixing some funny-noise problems with our righteous Traynor amplifier, a magnificent piece of vacuum-tube-powered equipment that we've been playing bass through since 1985. It was not new then; it's from about late 1967. He replaced the big tubes, then the little tubes. You know how when you clean one thing, suddenly something nearby begins to look filthy? That happens with cars, and music thangs too. In the course of all this revamping he noticed that the "on" light flickered off... never a good thing. That would be a problem with the switch. After 43 years and thousands of on/off-ings it was flaking out. You want your audience to do the wiggling, not the switch. So when he announced he was off to the store for a new one I remembered the switch...

This is why I usually don't use glue to assemble artwork. Better to weave it with thread or link it with telephone wire. All I had to do was clip the wires connecting the switch to the hanging collage, and it was freed up for use as... a switch!  Full circle, from on/off switch to art back to on/off switch. Out with the old, in with the, er, old-but-functional!

Traynor stack in all its powerfully loud glory

And now a public service announcement:  Don't Do This At Home! Taking apart or poking about in amplifiers of any kind can electrocute you. If they're open in the back don't reach in, even when they're not plugged in. There are capacitors in there that store very large amounts of current that are just as jumpy when unplugged as they are when they're plugged in and turned on. Don't be a fry-baby!

Sure sounds great now... I was inspired enough to play bass through it for the first time in waaaaay too long. It felt incredibly good to feel the sound hitting my chest as I played (the whole thing comes up to my chin).

P.S.  Back before we bought this amplifier, someone had taken some white paint and carefully inked in the number "11" on every knob...  At 130 watts (a conservative estimate), it's plenty loud for basement fun at "3"...  Traynors are made in Toronto and along with Sunn, Hiwatt, and of course Marshall, are well loved.  I consider them works of art (with point-to-point soldering, not a printed circuit board, etc), so this on/off switch kind of went from one type of art to another.

Caveat Vendor

Lotta people giving advice out there, in cyberspace and in your hometown---life coaches, launch coaches, how-to-do, how-to-be, how-not-to-freak-out, how-do-what-you-love-without-taking-alotta-crap.  Conquer the world!  Learn how not to pick up the phone every time mom calls!  Buy my e-book!  Sell your e-book! 

Give me a second for my head to stop swirling, ok?

The good news:  there are plenty of more-than-credible advice-givers out there.  The first one that comes to mind is Diane Gilleland of http://www.craftypod.com/, and there are many more.  The great part is that many if not most of these folks will provide plenty of advice for free before even thinking of asking you to buy anything---and better yet, they really do know what they're talking about and can back it up with experience and facts.

Hooray for these folks!  They work their butts off doing all this.

Okay, now it's time to turn on your bulls#it detector, starjets!  Turn it up to 11. 

Question:  Are they making more money giving advice about, say, selling your artwork than they ever did selling their artwork?  (Fill in your own more relevant question here). 

One career coach held several "try me out" group sessions a few years ago.  She was encouraging, engaging and provided good food for thought.  All for free!  I emailed her to find out how much it cost for her to coach me personally.  $5,000 over a 6-month period.  Hoot mon!  Time to reflect!  Then I remembered something she said:  when she was an artist, she made beautiful masks and sold them to clients on a regular basis, but she found that when she needed to raise her prices she had a much harder time selling them.  Okay... so she couldn't communicate convincingly enough with her clients to make a living from sales of her artwork... but she wants to teach me how to make a living from sales of my artwork...

Another coach gives excellent advice in his free e-books and weekly emails; he tweets links to other inspirational articles, and although he gears his advice more to an audience of tech creatives, authors, and other would-be coaches, his wise thoughts apply to artists.  He has a fun punch-the-camera headshot, is flippant, irreverent, honest, and willing to share his vulnerabilities so you too can quit that day job... and, guess what?  He recently announced that he was just about to quit his day job! 

I love ya, pal, but I quit my day job nearly three years ago. 

Bottom line:  many of these people are nothing short of great.  The credible ones will give you lots of opportunities to sample their wares prior to purchase.  It's up to you to sort them out. 

I'll repeat three little words from the last sentence---okay, four: 

It's Up To You. 

When it comes down to it, no one can actually lay the groundwork for you, no matter how much money you pay them.  No one can decide for you what your priorities are, what product will transport you into a world of fame and/or fortune, or what is genuine to you.  They can give you great questions to ask yourself, but you have to answer those questions.

Still, don't be shy about sharing your questions and your answers with others---your insights are valuable too, and they may benefit not only you, but a neighbor, a friend, a client...  I love living in a world populated by other people with vastly differing experiences, opinions and types of wisdom.  I'd get bored pretty fast if everyone was just like me!

So, am I a complete nutter, or have you had experiences like this?  Have you given out advice?  Had to re-orient good but general advice to your own situation?

Photo notes
Top:  "Daring" by Teresa Sullivan.  Photo by Teresa Sullivan
Middle and bottom:  "The Turtle" and "The Pirate" by Teresa Sullivan.  Photos by Dan Kvitka.