The Hazards of Studio Life
All in a days work: I knelt on a tack which left a nice little hole in my knee, nearly missed mistaked a tube of acrylic paint for lip balm, burnt a large patch in my floor with a soldering iron (on top of a tire-sized puddle of previously-spilt wax), and now I'm trying to remove a chunk of glue from my hair.
I'm ready for a break that includes a clean floor and Muppet movies.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Do you ever find yourself in those moments when all the seemingly disparate things that you love collide into one atomic bomb of sheer goodness? Well, that bomb went off for me last Friday night. A random collection of friends and I went out for Ethiopian food at a neighboring restaurant. A couple that I was with had befriended the restaurant owners as they live directly behind the restaurant-- and they're just those fantastic kind of people who take interest in those they walk by.
Oddly, for a Friday evening, the place was empty by 9pm, except for our motley crew. After a feast of curried goat and lentils sopped up by tangy injera, the lights went dim. A South African dj began setting up his table and lights. He came by with small sheets on which we could make our musical requests: regaetone, house, South African, West African, and old school. My friend had spent time in South Africa and swapped some Zulu words back and forth with the spin doctor. With a huge smile, he collected our requests. Donning headphones and the serious pose of a true mix master, he produced a veritable feast of tunes that propelled us onto the dance floor. The Ethiopian wife of one of the chef's came out and danced to C&C Music factory with us. In between Michael Jackson and Enya, we talked to the proprietors, asking them how they found our midwestern city.
Disco lights, new friends, an exchange of cultures- it was truly a taste of heaven.
Oddly, for a Friday evening, the place was empty by 9pm, except for our motley crew. After a feast of curried goat and lentils sopped up by tangy injera, the lights went dim. A South African dj began setting up his table and lights. He came by with small sheets on which we could make our musical requests: regaetone, house, South African, West African, and old school. My friend had spent time in South Africa and swapped some Zulu words back and forth with the spin doctor. With a huge smile, he collected our requests. Donning headphones and the serious pose of a true mix master, he produced a veritable feast of tunes that propelled us onto the dance floor. The Ethiopian wife of one of the chef's came out and danced to C&C Music factory with us. In between Michael Jackson and Enya, we talked to the proprietors, asking them how they found our midwestern city.
Disco lights, new friends, an exchange of cultures- it was truly a taste of heaven.
Friday, November 9, 2007


That's my studio mate, Lisa. She's making sugar-cast little girls. Sometimes she has moments when she feels that all sweetness in the world has turned sour. So she stabs her sugar babies.
The other picture is our crew on Halloween. Previously, Ann-Maree was dressed up as crazy headress lady, Chakia. Too bad there's no photo of that. I'm a sculpture professor that I TA for. Very convincing, let me tell you.
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