new popups…

August 2, 2008 at 11:19 pm (art, culture, drawing, interesting, life, painting, personal, thoughts) (, , , )

Finally I was able to get back to speed today, after missing several days because of my cut hand. The cut wasn’t that large, but it was pretty deep and really badly placed – right on my finger, the part of which I use to press down and guide the x-acto. Not good. But I’m happy to say it’s much, much better now.

While I was waiting for it to heal, I worked a bit on a stop-motion animation I hope to have up and running soon, although finishing these other projects is more pressing. It was a relief to get back into the studio and get work done today. I can’t tell (because I am once again running out of room) if this work is 100% done or not, because I can’t really see it all set up at once… so that’s something I’ll have to solve a little later. But in the meanwhile…

This is a 90 degree pop-up that’s a little misleading to look at – parts of it are disassembled when you completely flatten it, so if you’re confused as to how it pops up, that might help solve the problem.

The text continues from the last one (the carousel) and reads:
I thought of things that grew best privately, alone, away from the rest of the world.
This state of perfection – I wouldn’t want it even if I could get it. I told myself this endlessly, like I was trying to win an argument that would somehow never be resolved – both sides had staked out their claim, dug in their heels, and there was no room for compromise. I did know that I looked upon the perfect with a certain sense of pity – I knew things about the world that they’d never know and I congratulated myself on my depth of my experiences. Was this a form of sour grapes, of convincing myself that I didn’t want what I could never have anyway? Oh, probably. But I knew also that fear could take shape and present itself in the most amazing of ways and be quite beautiful in its transformations – it wouldn’t ever stop hurting, but it was a wonder all the same.

If you look in the house, there is a cactus growing, poking up through the floorboards:

And I wasn’t able to get a shot of this that’s any decent, but in the attic (which you can see through a tiny window), there is a girl laying on the floor. The light from the window drifts over her:

If you look in the upper left of the window, you can just make out her hand.

In the next section of the story, the forest transitions into a desert. It is marked by a fence and the girls are hopping over it:

A detail:

The text reads:
I thought about drought and famine and creatures that found it possible to survive in that environment, in some cases, better than they would anywhere else.
It’s like that extra little bit of struggle – that hardship – somehow made it easier. Maybe you convinced yourself to set your sights lower or maybe you just tried extra hard. Somehow when you’re in a world of such unlimited options, it’s easy to never be satisfied – but here was a place with so much less and so you contented yourself with less. Or that was the theory at least behind this kind of self-imposed banishment. I admired people who lived like that.

Ok, last one for now – now they’re in the desert for real:

In case it’s not clear, that round part can be turned by hand, making the stars in the background rotate:

Text reads:
This is how I pictured the sky out there – perpetually night and just spinning in a way that made it so clear that we were traveling so fast.
Maybe it was my way of romanticizing it to always see it in my mind as night or maybe it was a reflection of my desire to have the night devour me – I thought of people who would disappear into the night and I wated that – I wanted the chance to disappear from myself as well – to have the night come in and completely dissolve my body and let me float up and join the stars.

Ahhhhh, if only I could have more days like today.


1 Comment

  1. Shannon said,

    I totally plan to go to your opening but I will also be going back so I can go through every piece in peace and read your tiny obsessive writings of a mad woman

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