Excerpts: The Package

What I saw during Lasik Eye Surgery

I just experienced one of the more extraordinary things in life, Lasik eye surgery. After more than 20 years of corrected lens wearing, I now have 20/20 vision. Science is real.
Here are some drawn and digitally altered images in attempt to recreate what I saw through the steps of surgery. While I had anesthetic drops in my eye so I couldn't feel any pain, I was awake and still able to see what was going on.
The hardest part was anticipating bright lights coming into your eye and not being able to blink.
After taking numbing eye drops and lying on the exam bed, the machines moved into place over head and bright lights zoomed in on my face. The surgeon placed a patch on my left eye and a speculum opened my right lid, clockwork orange-esque and there I went...toward the light.

Then, I presume, they suctioned my eyeball because I lost partial vision but could still see the ceiling lights in my peripheral vision. The strangest twinkles of blinking blue and green dots appeared for a few moments across the black patch. I read on another blog that those are blobs of your veins???
I think this is where they cut open my cornea as well. I felt pressure and encouraging words of "Good job, Jean" from somewhere behind me. Then I saw a green dot coming towards me in between red dots. I was told to keep looking still at the green dot. Or maybe this happened before I lost vision for a few moments? I can't remember already. Maybe it reappeared?
  There were a few fleeting moments of a faint burning smell that I was told beforehand is NOT my eye burning, but the intensity of the laser machine. Then, they folded my cornea flap back in place and I think added some fluid to the surface of my eye. It looked like someone was brushing clear nail polish over my eye and lightly dabbing here and there.
 
Then they repeated it on the other eye. After less than 10 minutes, I sat up from the bed and they asked me what time the clock said. I could read it just fine.
I was driven home and took a long nap. The end. Now I walk around smiling at everything! Absolutely Amazing!
Did I mention science is real?

New More City Curriculum

While at the National Art Education Association Conference in New York City last week, something didn't feel right. Maybe it's because I've spent the better part of this past year traveling and working solo and too many familiar faces in one place felt foreign.
Many sessions felt like how a professor at the University of Michigan once described modern lectures: "a pointless loop of information moving from one computer to another without it ever passing through anyone's brain." This wasn't always the case, of course, but I found my curriculum (so to speak) elsewhere, often just riding the subway and getting lost. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love public transportation. That, along with public libraries, is the reason I still believe in humanity. Museums are pretty okay, too. I found my curriculum when I left the claustrophobic conference and walked from Times Square, through Central Park, and finally to The Met. There, I was greeted by a 500 year old Bishop holding a book and looking eerily understanding of my predicament. He totally gets it.
The week in NYC allowed me time to visit the MoMA to see 'good' but probably overrated Cindy Sherman hoopla and then I was able to see what I'm sensing is an overwhelmingly UNDERrated retrospective of another (!) woman artist showing at the same time: Sanja Ivecovic's "Sweet Violence." How timely for International Women's Day. Both women have been making work about gender since the 1970s and I regret to inform you that it is still "fresh."
I finally visited Printed Matter and even 192 Books across the street in Chelsea. And then I visited the Center for Book Arts. All places were inspiring us to hold objects in our hands and think about other human beings.

Aaron Cohick/New Lights Press, The New Manifesto of the New Lights Press, 2009, showing at Center for the Book Arts.

 What was not inspiring us to think about others was the hyper-commercialized convention I was supposed to be at that encouraged me to make a free Mehndi Art Glove. Ta-da! You understand Indian Art and its relation to latex! If, as an outsider to the field, I picked up the cover of the convention booklet and read this, I would want to cut art education from schools, too.

 

I did get to see hidden gems of thoughtfulness at the conference (however achingly under-attended), and presented a bit on my own work with other great researchers and educators. I learned about Task Parties from artist Oliver Herring and got to visit with a former teacher, Doug Beube, at his studio in Brooklyn. His new book is a must for anyone interested in books and art.

Phew, that was a lot of reading. Now, let's all return to our respective screens.

Spirit-"less" Airlines

Woman in the Wind Who Has Lost Her Nose

My yoga teacher said today, "Peel away the things that no longer serve you." That immediately meant to me that I should be peeling away the tension in my right hip, and all of the muscles around it. Blasted runner's hips!

 "Car Ride from Bird's Point of View" Graphite on Paper, c. 1989.

I did this while also thinking about all the things I've been purging this past month since I've gotten back from Mexico. This included old clothes, pointless grudges, obsolete grad school binders, and dust collecting on the top edge of hanging picture frames. I also thought about my digital clutter that is still peeling away: useless photos, documents, doubles of almost everything, incorrect formats, mystery articles and forms that I downloaded (in my sleep, maybe?) 

One of the nice things about peeling away what you don't need is unearthing what it is that does serve you...namely, an envelope (analog, not digital) of your childhood drawings that your mother kept.

"Woman in the Wind Who Has Lost Her Nose" Ink on Paper, c. 1990.

Here is this week's picks from years 7 and 8 of my childhood. These are clearly the years when one has an acute sense of ladies' shoulder pads and a fascination with things in flight.

Awareness of the placement of shoulder seams? Check.
Understanding of knees and elbows? In Artistic development.

You can see through to the other side of the paper a little bit where my mom had dutifully written  "Jean Age 8" and "Jean Age 7".  For the piece I am titling, "Woman in the Wind Who Has Lost Her Nose," I am willing to believe I was onto the next drawing and had forgotten to add the suggestion of a nose. I am also willing to believe that I did not worry myself with things that did not serve me. In this case, it was a nose. The image is better without it. I will take this as a lesson from my 7 year old artist-self: Don't bother with things you don't need, move on to the next project, and just keep drawing out what you see around you.

Art at its laziest.

Here's another good "post-grad school" activity where you don't even have to get out of bed to do it. Draw stuff on your iphone. I made my first painting today and--well--it felt good. I'm ready to tell you that I did it and none of my analog works have fallen off the wall and punched me in my digitally-glazed face...yet. I do believe my oil paintings are staring from across the room, peeling with envy. They smelled an iTunes download. I imagine my paintbrushes and my pencils get together at night (all Toy Story style) and talk about how to win back my love.  I heartlessly downloaded the free app called DrawCast right in front of those fat tubes of paint.
I'm now accepting recommendations for other free painting/drawing applications to download on my phone. But it better be good because in DrawCast you can even mix colors by tapping your finger on two different digital swatches to come up with a new swatch. Who knew you could have so much fun without turpentine?

I'd say the glass is half FULL today. Drink it up, David Hockney!

Liz Becoming

My friend, Liz, who is featured in the portrait, had much to say about the original painting. This seems to be true of anyone who has their portrait painted. It was time for this painting to evolve and I documented its metamorphosis. Hopefully Liz will have new things to say about the painting now.

I also thought moving frames and fancy audio might bring you closer to the painting. Most people probably aren't reading this though and have already hit 'play.'

I used to be a Painter.

Still tangled

This is why I haven't been blogging lately...among other things:

The Path of a Teacher

Part of my teacher certification includes  observing teachers in the classroom for many many hours. Today, upon suggestion from one of my 'prized worksheets', I drew the floor plan of the art room and traced the path of my cooperating teacher for 45 minutes while she taught a 3rd grade art class.
Her response to my drawing: "No wonder my feet hurt."

Just 45 minutes!

Book gets press(ed)

You might remember a post from last year showing my Computer Book in progress in North Carolina. It was an obsessive book I carried with me on my daily walks, slowly turning the text into Os and 1s.
I'm happy to report that this sculptural book work is currently being shown this summer in Oklahoma City along side some very accomplished artists for whom I have great respect!
The show, at Artspace at Untitled in Oklahoma City, was called Altered Books. Here's some press from the exhibit:
An article from a local paper: http://www.newsok.com/article/3475517?searched=altered%20books&custom_click=search
and then watch the beginning of this video carefully. The Computer Book gets a little cameo role for a few seconds!

This One Time When I was in Budapest...

Quick! Where am I? Nope, not in a small Michigan town near Ann Arbor...but I suspect now that the name Ypsilanti originates in Hungary. (This picture-and all the others in this blog post-were taken during my roughly 24 hours in Budapest.) Who knew?!?
I have been meaning to write a really inspiring, witty, and mind-blowing blog post about more of my travels, specifically about my experience in Budapest. I finally have the time to do that now! I also owe it to our great tour guide, Zoltan Nagy, that we met in Budapest. He asked a while back for pictures. Here they are now, Zoltan!
It feels like forever ago that I was in Europe but it was only this past January. You might remember I spent some time visiting my friend, Bob, who lives in Vienna. We also took some short trips to Prague and Budapest.
...In the dead of winter. If you think the pictures look a bit cold, IT WAS.

When we arrived at Budapest's impressive main train station, I bought a Cappuccino in a plastic cup because I think it usually sounds the same in most languages and I just don't feel confidant asking for beverages in Hungarian. Four years of high school Latin and all I could ask for at Budapest's train station concession stand was a cappuccino while pointing at a bread-y thing. I'm totally a world traveller.Look at the balmy Danube River! I don't know how I forgot to pack my swimsuit!

I learned that Hungary is the only country whose current currency, florints, were in use while it was a Socialist state. I believe there is a push to bring the Euro to Hungary. During the day in Budapest, we did things like stumble upon a church inside a mountain and climb icy stairs to even colder lookouts. Did I mention it was cold? The main highlight of the trip was the Budapest Backpacker Free Walking Tour where we met our very excellent tour guide: Zoltan Nagy. His name translates as 'the great sultan.' We even became facebook friends later. You should, too.
He is a professor of History and gave a great tour to me, Bob, and an Australian couple.
I'd like to think the high point of the trip, both geographically and spiritually was when Zoltan offered us a drink from his knapsack to warm us up. What was the name of that drink again, Zoly? I remember accepting a second shot of the clear fruity spirits and thinking soon thereafter that Budapest was a very fine place to visit.There was a part of the tour where we were invited to touch a part of this statue for good luck. I don't remember what the statue represented but I do know that there was a particular part of the underside of this anatomically correct horse that was shiny and I was the only one on the tour who contributed to its gloss. Thanks for the boost, Zoly.

Below is a picture of indoor heating at a bar. It was cold everywhere!
I learned that many bars in Budapest spring up in abandoned buildings. We sat, er, squatted, in what looked like someone's living room from another era, sipping beer, and surrounded by faded wallpaper, questionable couch cushions, and what looked like drug-inspired decor. I mean, I've never thought of a violin case as an eyebrow until now. We were guided to this off-the-beaten-path bar by our host, Jimmy, at the hostel we were staying at. We would have never found our way through little maze-like walkways and side streets on our own to get to some of these bars without our hostel host.
I do remember that Jimmy, -pictured at right-apparently had a direct line to Obama at the hostel.At the end of our brief jaunt through Budapest, I remember us missing our train by minutes. I definitely could have used some Hungarian spirits from someone's knapsack at that point. The train station is open air and also cold. We figured out what the next train back to Vienna was and scraped together our last forints for McDonald's cappuccinos. I can't wait to return to Budapest in the summer months some day!!!

To catch a teacher...

For my fellow Master's Thesis writers out there, the technicalities of "citations" took on a whole new meaning for me this weekend...although my thesis was the last thing on my mind.
Okay, here's my case:
We were entering the Chicago Red Line station after Saturday's St. Patrick's Day Parade. The person in front of me dipped his farecard and proceeded through the handicapped gate. I had my U-Pass CTA card (with unlimited rides for the semester) out in my hand and ready to dip but the gate had not closed yet. I proceeded through in the flurry of getting to the train.
An undercover cop then asked me to step over to the side and show my I.D. Despite my explanation to her of the concept of an unlimited rides farecard and how it was in my hand ready to go, she continued writing out the citation. She told me I had committed theft. I told her my ride was already paid for and no one lost any money. I was then watched over by another undercover cop while she called in my information to make sure there were no warrants out for my arrest. (There aren't.) I presume the other undercover cop was standing guard over me so that I wouldn't run away? I told him that I had that U-Pass because I'm in a graduate program preparing me to become a teacher and be a role model for America's youth...and I STILL have to get a citation? He answered, "Oh, wow. Well, we just caught a lawyer going through without paying." I think he missed my point about professionals who are committed to morals but well, whatever.
They also stated that if I didn't have identification on me that day, I would have been arrested. I know what you're thinking: "Jean, when are you going to get your life together and stop getting into trouble with the law?" And I've got some nerve messing with the clean, efficient, and financially sound CTA!
I think this is an excellent time to point out the 'honor system' that is called the Viennese Transit System. Let me explain:
While I was visiting this fine, civilized metropolis called Vienna this past January- where they probably don't celebrate the feast of St. Patrick - I noticed the lack of turnstiles in all of the trains. You don't even show a ticket when you got on the buses! You stamp your ticket by entering it in the little blue box and then go on your merry way. If you have a 30 day pass, for example, you don't have to validate it again until it expires. YOU JUST WALK IN. There is the sporadic ticketing agent that will walk through a train and ask for tickets but that is a rare occasion. Might I also point out that on weekends, you can take a newspaper out of a bag (no locks!) on the lamppost, and they TRUST YOU to deposit coins into a little box. And yes, they have a health system that works, too.
I'd also like to point out the more pleasant train station experience I had in Budapest. Here I am (below) enjoying an unidentifiable pastry and machine-made cappuccino in a plastic cup upon my arrival at the Hungary's main train station. It was cold and soviet feeling, and it was still better than the CTA. And that's saying something.
So my question to you all is this: do I contest a $50 CTA citation on principle? (The citation turns out to be the equivalent of a parking ticket-I will not have a criminal record!) Or do I pay the fee and spend $50 worth of my time doing something productive? Like, maybe working on my thesis?