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Here is my completed Alphabet Landscape of the Walt Whitman Bridge. Every letter is in the Georgia font, which is the same font that my posts are typed in. Since my central object, the bridge needed to feel architectural and not organic, I chose a font that is extremely common in typing, one we see almost every day. To me, fonts like Georgia, Helvetica, Times New Roman are the steel beams of type. They are uniform and made for function, not aesthetic. The challenge for me was to make something visually pleasing out of something visually bland. Also, I chose not to distort my letters in anyway, so to keep with the theme of building with plain letters. I did resort to scale changes, stretching, and rotating quite often. Drawing with type, surprisingly to me, was not an idea I ever came upon myself, but now that I know about it, I'm going to make a habit of doing it more often.
Yesterday, Philip Glahn spoke to us about art and technology. According to Philip, the thought that art and technology are two entities that simply cannot or should not merge, is a total myth. I have to say that even though I tend toward more traditional hands-on art forms like painting and drawing in my own work, I have to agree.I have always felt that calling oneself an artist is not only pretentious, but usually false. In my work here at Tyler and my own personal work, I have seldom thought I was making art. I believe the best that we can do is create things. Images, sculptures, ideas. Whether or not something is art should be left up to others to decide. I feel that this notion coincides with Philip's idea about de- and reskilling artists and laborers. The factory worker makes a product while the artist makes art. That has always left a sour taste in my mouth. Probably because I want to become a great illustrator. Illustrators are published in books, magazines, ads, etc. but few are considered artists, or at least not in the sense that Renoir or Picasso are. A question that sums up the underlying theme would be "Who is the real artist, Andy Warhol or the designer of the Campbell's Soup Can?" Many would say Warhol, that he has been reskilled. I on the other hand believe it is the designer that has been reskilled. What that particular work of Warhol's has done for me is not present his genius but the genius of the craftsman.
Last week, the foundation lecture was about Basekamp, an organization that promotes and sponsors collaborative artwork, both local and international. While the speaker seemed to be a bit frazzled about adrressing the gathered crowd on the subject of the group, i was able to find my own interest in what he was talking about. The idea of place here in Philly where people can have weekly discussions about their work is very enticing. While I have never been one to relish talking about artwork to death, I can most definitely see the benefit of a unified front of artists right here in the city. In the business of graphic design and illustration, I don't think I'd much like to do gallery shows but being able to connect with local professionals in person or online could only help my future career. Basekamp seems like a good and even necessary idea.
"Now he was hurrying carefully, stepping from root-tangle of ivy to stone to earth, confident that this was his graveyard. He could feel the graveyard itself trying to hide him, to protect, to make him vanish, and he fought it, worked to be seen." -Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book.
I have lived near the airport, in a Temple dormitory, in Fairmount, and in South Philadelphia. Though I grew up in the suburbs, Philadelphia has always been a constant in my life. Over the past 3 years, I have come to know these streets, as a local. I often feel like I have vanished into the scenery. Tourists have a way of sticking out. They take photos, they linger in one place for longer than 15 seconds, and in Center City, they do something I forget to do almost every day as I pass by 10 subway stops worth of Broad St., riding my bike to and from school. They look up. Today, I took my camera to Rittenhouse Square and looked up. 'Wow', I thought. 'I forgot how @#$%^&* tall these @#$%^&* buildings are.' Pardon my french.
I chose Rittenhouse for two reasons. One being, that I just really love riding through there. It's the kind of place you think all cities look like when you're watching Sesame Street and you're too little to actually go find out. The second reason, is that it is filled with artists. With the Univ. of the Arts nearby, I knew there would be aspiring somebodies like me all over, and maybe I'd feel less like a tourist. Well, it didn't work. The local in me moved from point to point around the park and surrounding neighborhood with purpose and self-awareness, but the tourist in me kept reaffirming, 'I live in one of the biggest metropolitan areas in the U.S.! Holy @#$%!' I promise, my inner monologue has a much filthier mouth than I do. I took this concept of looking up and lingering and translated it into photos that are almost uncomfortable in angle. Also, I wanted to get as many shots that mingled vegetation and architecture as I could, because Rittenhouse is the best balance of the two in the city. I no longer felt part of the scenery. People were noticing me as they walked by. What they thought, I could only guess: Freshman just moved in from the far off countryside, (No.) Private Investigator, (No, but I'll take it.) peeping Tom, (No, I swear!) future master of the Graphic Arts sowing the seeds of his genius. (I hope so.) Whatever people may have thought, it was nice to be reminded that in a big city, individuals exist, not just traffic and crowds. In the square I saw a man, in his early sixties, wearing a very expensive, very 'I'm so important, you wouldn't even understand what I do for a living' black suit. He looked every bit the part of the imposing, filthy rich, White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, who secretly runs the entire world with his golf buddies. But he was walking this little dog that was so white and fluffy that it looked like someone ripped open a bag of cotton balls in a hurry and they all just spilled out into a few amoeba-like shapes. The two of them made for such an absurd juxtaposition that I had to sketch them. Who walks their dog in a suit anyway?
After Rittenhouse, I figured I would head to City Hall nearby, which at night is just as creepy as it is enchanting and beautiful. Passing through the courtyard of City Hall is my favorite part of my ride to work and school. I always look at the detail and variation throughout the architecture and wonder why we stopped making buildings like that. Instead, we have the Comcast Center, which is impressive in height, but oddly resembles a giant flash drive.
On my way home, I found a few scattered objects on the streets. The most interesting I thought, was a fold-up map of the city. I found it on a sidewalk near a half-empty bottle of brandy right out front of a church in South Philadelphia. The church was open, even though it was late at night, and I imagined that an old drunk had stolen the map from a street vendor while nursing his brandy, used it to find the church, and gave up the bottle right there on the steps in exchange for sanctuary. The church, the bottle, and the map all took on more meaning then they would probably usually carry, with this story in my mind.
When all was said and done, I couldn't help but think how hard we try to be seen, and yet we so often make lasting impressions on those we encounter, completely by chance, like the man and his dog, or the map of Philadelphia, did on me. I wonder what impressions I made today, and even though I'll fade back into the scenery, I wonder what impressions I will make tomorrow.
It is Wednesday now, at 2:12 AM. There is no need to be alarmed, because as tried and tested night owl, this is when I am at my sharpest. I woke up 20 hours ago and drove myself to where I work, Temple University Hospital. I had hoped that there would be a particularly slow influx of jobs coming my way so that I could photograph my daily surroundings at the North Philadelphia campus. Over two years of employment at the hospital, I have collected several volumes of stories in my memory, many involving belligerent homeless and domestic disputes in the surrounding area. While unsavory, these experiences have served my anecdotal repertoire quite nicely. Unfortunately, today was one of those rare busy days when my boss sends me on an epic quest to find a box that doesn't exist, in a warehouse with little to no semblance of organization. My hopes of taking some North Philly snapshots were trashed as I soon needed to report to Tyler for this week's lecture.
The lecture, as I'm sure everyone knows, was about reconciling the arts with internet technology, and using the web as possibly the most useful tool for undiscovered artists. The name of the game seemed to be "blogs and social networks are your friends!" I was, until a little over a year ago, a confirmed hater of all things myspace/facebook/etc., but I was eventually unable to deny the merit of sites that help an artist get serious about displaying his/her work. One site that the Peter Hanley mentioned was deviantart.com. In March of 2007 I first discovered this site and set up an account. While it is an open forum for all who would call themselves artists, many phenomenal, many less so, it is a great place to not only display, but to connect. You can watch any artist you like and receive updates on their latest posted work. It is globally known and attracts some high profile professionals. Famous painters, illustrators, and photographers often have deviantart pages. I follow several comic book illustrators who not only post new work regularly, but also journals about the the way the business works, and step by step tutorials on their processes. Whenever I draw, paint, or photograph something I am proud of, I always post it on deviantart.com/iturnedintoamartian
I was happy to learn about more serious, and exclusive art communities like CFEVA and inliquid.com These are sites that I have since this morning looked into and would like to contribute to. While a world that is so intrinsically tied to our computer screens can be intimidating and frightening at times, it is actually a relief to know just how much I can better my visibility for future employers just by participating in an active online community life.
I am looking forward to sharing my work as well as seeing the artwork of all the students in the class.
