Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Valedictorian Speech

Hey all, this is my graduation speech. Just dusting it off.

That first, strange, new year, we all learned how to mix colors and use a band saw. We even built chairs out of cardboard, though many of us weren’t quite sure why. We learned how to fend off sleep, sometimes for days on end, and we learned how to work so that sleep could happen almost every night. We have learned the delightful balance of marijuana and a near-perfect GPA. We have learned and overcome the frustrations of muslin, three- point perspective, CAD and Photoshop. We found friends that will last us the rest of our lives, in smoking courtyards and under cherry trees or splashing through the fountain in the dark hours of the morning.

And now, here we are four years later, creating paintings and gowns and photographs and fonts that our first year selves could not even imagine.

Coming into an art and design school, we obviously knew we’d be learning something, but the lessons we are taking We are taking away extend beyond the classroom and studio.  so many lessons from these last four years. While we have learnedSome of these lessons were taught in classrooms, I have learned from so many people, and I would like to take a moment to recognize a few of them.
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There are some lessons I was not expecting learn, teachers in unlikely places, and one piece of advice that ended up becoming


Janet Kaplan taught me the liberating and fundamental truth that “anything can be art.” I’m glad I never have to delve into one of those unending debates again.

Scot Kaylor taught me that everyone makes bad art; it’s not only okay, it’s necessary.

From two very different kinds of teachers, Frank Hyder and Rachel Luthy and Frank Hyder, I learned that nothing is worth not being your self.

From Jackie Maloney I learned that the creative process and love can be the same experience, anand that both artists and friendships can help save the world.

Brit Brennan, one of the great teachers in my life, taught me that caring is never ever a sign of weakness.

I learned from Jonathan Wallis that to start improving the world, we have to start with the part of the world that is around us, within arm’s reach: our friends, our family, our neighborhoods, the river and soil we depend on.

There are three people here today that have helped me constantly, who I will never be able to thank enough. Without question, they are the three hardest working people I know: My dad, tireless and unshakable, and my mom, endlessly giving and always growing.  I have learned from their actions the meaning of true sacrifice and selflessness, although I doubt I have ever been an example of such altruism. And Harry, my partner in crime, strong in every sense of the word,  is, is always teaching me presence and fearlessness.

I could talk at length about any of the contributions these friends and teachers have made on my life.There are so many things I’d like to say to all of you right now. We are all walking away with lessons we have taught each other, our own newly gained insight and I know . While hile I could talk about the importance of hard work, or the necessity of true friends, or even how, oh, I don’t know, how a Valedictorian can be a proud, upstanding potheadthere’s only one message I really want to leave with you today.

It’s something I learned from a professor who used to teach here, a man that many of us know and love, Dr. Art DiFuria. During that disorienting, tumultuous time known as sophomore year I was going through a particularly acute moment of personal crisis.  I was in his office explaining to him why my latest rough draft was going to be late when he told me something I will never forget. He said, “Brianna, being a good person is more important, and harder, than being a good artist.”

Being a good person is more important, and harder, than being a good artist.

It’s an idea that’s easy to forget, especially when we’ve spent the last four years working so hard to develop our craft. , but if you remember anything from my time up here, please have it be this. It is in life as it is in the studio: being a good person requires practice and action, patience and self-forgiveness, keen senses and honesty.

My junior year, I spent some time in Braddock, Pennsylvania, where I volunteered labor to an art-based community project called Transformazium. I helped resalvage construction materials, and dig the foundation for a sustainable community space. This was the first time I saw artistic practices reflecting a resolute value system.

Lilly Yeh, who we are fortunate enough to have with us today, is further proof that this, to live as both a good person and artist, is possible. She has taken her talents and have used them to build a life that is compassionate, empowering, and socially aware.

Now, I’m not asking you to forget you goals and dreams and join the Peace Corp, and this isn’t about all becoming “Lilly Yehs.” All this is is a plea to move forward with conscience, to consider the numerous impacts our everyday artistic actions can have on the world. We are entering fields and industries that have the ability to be both beneficial and harmful to our society and planet.

I mean, I hope by this time you have all realized the huge impact artists and designers have on our world. The transformative power of art is apparent in every trend, cultural movement, and era. We make visible the thoughts, dreams, desires of our civilization. We make the spaces people live in, the clothes they wear, the books they read and the websites they visit. People unite under images; they find comfort and solidarity in images.  As artists and designers all have a profound impact on the people, creatures, and world around us, and it takes hard work to make our impact a good one.

You can make sure the clothes you design aren’t assembled in sweatshops half-way around the world, you can make sure your studio practice has a little material waste as possible. Our valuable time and skills can be given to non-profits, like some of the amazing Graphic Design senior projects. And of course there are hundreds of things that can be done to reduce our damaging impact on the environment.

This is a strange time to be alive, and an especially strange time to be twenty-two and graduating. This is a time when most of the planet and its people , most of the world is sufferingsuffer for our comfort; where thousands die over the disagreements of a handfulfew. Now, more than ever, this “real world” everyone is telling us about, needs us more than ever, and I hope we’re all up for the job.

As we move on to the next stage of our lives, do not let yourselves become apathetic. Please, please, please. The world doesn’t need more apathy, and we are all too talented, too smart, too amazing to stop caring.

Don’t stop making art.

Don’t stop questioning the world around you; it’s the only way to discover how it could be better.

Have you guys seen the stuff in those galleries? Are you aware of what we have accomplished? We are innovative and empowered, and with the courage that is evident in this year’s senior show, we can do so much good.

In the true words of Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”

I love you all, thank you.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

The Beautiful End of The World Project

Hello All,


This is a sneak peak at what I've been doing in the studio since graduation. My new body of work is a stream-of-consciousness collage-based series. I am sourcing all materials from all the paper work I have amassed over four years at art school (which is a lot). This includes not just work that I have made, but text books, DVD covers, postcards, posters, letters, receipts, assignments and sketchbook cutouts--all accumulated, and now appropriated into narrative collages. It's so exciting finding relevant content in work or objects that, when created or aquired, were without content. If you see anything you like, let me know. All smaller pieces (36"x36" to 4"x4") are probably for sale (shameless and unemployed). I am also happy to do commissions or take requests.

Thanks for looking! I always appreciate feedback.

Love,
Bribird














Bookspace and Hedberg keeping me Happy and Busy



Hello Everyone!



The past few months I have been curating an exhibition at the Philadelphia Mausoleum of Contemporary Art (PhilaMOCA). The show, a tribute to the late comic genius, is called, simply enough, I Love Mitch Hedberg. It has been been a lot of fun work, and I am anxiously awaiting opening night-- Sat, October 1, 7:30pm-- a night that promises to be full of great art, comedy, reverence and homeade beer. For those of you in the Philadelphia area, I invite you to join us--it's going to be a riot!



Along with the Hedberg show, the arts/music/poetry collective started by myself and my friends, the Fuhrl, is really taking off. We had our fourth showcase in August and the turnout absolutely blew us away. It took place at the Bookspace on Frankford Ave, which has become the new home of Kerdieekrdaad's thesis piece--it creates a wonderful backdrop to the bands and dancers that fill the space each night!




It's no longer as much a space as a tapestry now, but at least it isn't rolled up in my basement.  Our kind hosts lets us play with the lights (it's lit from behind!...pictures and video to come) and we found that the big warehouse is a perfect home for it...it can really breathe and to see it behind the wonderful performances at The Fuhrl's Midsummer showcase (thank you to the Band With No Name, Kickin' Bear, Your Sister's Canary and The West Philly Orchestra) made it feel more alive somehow.  If you want to swing by and take a look (also check out the hanging installation of wire and buttons by Maximiliana Eisenmann) The Bookspace is open most days between 12 and 5.




The fantastic Monkees of Folk in front of our creation myth tapestry.




Well, that's all for now! When my camera starts working again I can start posting all the work I've been doing!  Wouldn't that be nice?


-Bribird



Thursday, May 19, 2011

(Re)Creation Myth


Hi Everyone,
These are the myths that our illustration narrates. They might bring clarity, or you might just enjoy reading them. The piece is down now, which is always a touch sad, but we're ready for the rest of our lives now.

Love,
Bribird 

Creation Story

In the beginning we were a drop of water, floating in darkness and silence. The sun came when the Fuhrl came, but until then there were only giants and water. Tired giants came down from the sky and pulled the water over them like blankets. They slept beneath the water, lost in a deep and ancient slumber. Very rarely did these giants move, but sometimes in a fit of dreams, they would turn over, stretch out, curl up. Knees and shoulders broke the water’s surface and became islands; large piles of the giants became great stretches of land. Here the giants slept undisturbed for stretches of time that could not be filled by a million generations of humans.  It remained dark and still.

And then the first change: One giant, young and restless as giants go, opened its eye for just a moment. From this wakeful eye came consciousness and it tore across the sky, becoming fire and light, growing faster and hotter as it shook every atom. It glowed in the sky like a cloud of furnaces, and instead of fumes, new matter rose from the heat. It moved up and out, full of future and prophesies, past and reflections. The Atomic Fabric then began to spiral out across the world, self-generating and self-destructive. This massive force of energy was the Fuhrl and it grew out of the land and water. The giant, unaware of its own creation, turned over, and fell back asleep.
The Fuhrl continued to grow. It created the atmosphere and clouds, beauty and conflict. It disperses, and begins to separate and solidify into the essential matter of the universe. These are the things and ideas that we as humans are aware of.

ReCreation Story
           
Our world changes. Much faster and more violently than anyone alive has previously experienced. Whether it is by our own hands, or by the power of the earth, life’s fragility is pushed almost to its limits, but survives, barely. Our world changes, the cycle starts over, and the earth returns to an infant state.
           
A group of youth, friends, emerge from the protective shelter they built deep beneath the surface of Lake Temagami, which kept them safe as the surface of the planet raged in flood and fire.  Their hair has all grown long—it is how they kept track of their time in isolation.  They find the entrance is underwater now, and they must tear through its membrane and swim to the surface and the shore.  They lie on their backs naked, panting collectively, on the muddy beach, tired from their efforts to enter this changed world.  They open their eyes and the light of the new day flickers and pulses deep yellows, magentas, colors of citrus and warmth.  They locate the source of the light.  Beneath a clear sky, some substance, not gas or water or solid, swells and vibrates and implodes upon itself—it throbs with life.  As the youth look longer they begin to recognize elements from the world they knew, breaking down and transforming within this saturated mass.  The earth has collected an entire reality and is in the process of recycling it.  The mass is gradually becoming the fabric of a new reality.  The youth call this fabric The Fuhrl, and to some degree their willpower influences it as it becomes more defined.  The Fuhrl is at once a destructive and creative force.  It is change.

The earth behaves as though a burden has been lifted from its back.  They see areas in the lake where the water breaks away from the larger mass, rising in reflective, contorting bubbles into the air, then returns to the larger body.  The first time the friends venture to walk across the new landscape, they notice that sometimes their feet leave the ground for longer and their body feels more a part of the air than the earth.  Evidently there are some areas on the planet now where gravity is weaker. 

As the friends walk, the world around them gains definition.  Elements in the landscape drip out of the Fuhrl and solidify before their eyes.  Trees are taller and more resilient, most over one hundred feet.  At first, their bark is a gamut of neutral tones, slightly reflecting the warm hues given off by The Fuhrl.  Most of the first objects that begin to set the stage of this new reality are a variety of off-whites, and the landscape appears as a blank canvas.   Herds of beasts stampede out of a leg of The Fuhrl, similar to the bison and woolly mammoths that the youth remember from pictures.  The fur of these beasts is wilder and thicker, though, and whiter than the bark of the trees.  One person begins to collect clumps of the fur as the beasts shed and regenerate, and fashions from it the softest fabric he has felt.  He wraps himself in it and his heartthrobs with the comfort it provides him.  He teaches his comrades to felt blankets as well, because he loves them and wants them to know this comfort too.

Throughout the first day, The Fuhrl travels closer to the horizon.  It must pollinate the whole world, so while it touches other parts of the planet, the friends experience something like night.  The air remains warm.  The stars brighten, and there are more of them visible than before—as if a veil no longer obscures half of the contents of the abyss.  The quantity and variety of stars brings the youth such joy that they remove their blankets and begin to dance, out of gratitude for a fresh start and as an outlet for the physical energy the change has brought them.  They sing, they clap and stomp their feet remembering how to use their voices again to express love to each other and share a common appreciation for what surrounds them.  The earth responds to their music and harmonizes with them.  The sounds of the grasses and lichens and mosses simultaneously sprouting from the fertile soil, the water’s surface flirting with the mud at the shore, and the guttural groans of the massive trees resemble percussion richer and more rhythmic than was possible before the destruction of what was.  In the distance the stampede apparently reaches some newly formed stone and runs across it.  The vibrations that reach the ears of the dancers are distorted by the pockets of unique gravity and punctuate their music with an intense, throbbing bass that possesses their bodies in a dance that they can no longer control with thought. 

The Fuhrl edges in over the horizon, shedding some light on the scene.  One of the humans opens her eyes and is surprised; she sees that their music and dancing is exuding color—painting the landscape as tendrils of a broader spectrum of hues than they have ever been able to see grow out from their sounds and motions and pass over, wind around, dissolve into the grasses, trees, earth, and water.  The woman realizes that she and her friends are responsible for bringing color back to the planet.  

Monday, May 2, 2011

Thesis. Sweet Thesis.

Hello big world,

Bri, here. It's been a while, I know. Jackie and I have been building and breaking and tearing and gluing and thinking and sputtering and now, finally, we have something to show for it. Our installation, The Fuhrnace, the Baby and the Bathwater, is done, and it is our most honest moment. We have been working very hard and I can say with much certainty that our efforts have yielded a piece that we are so very proud of.


We hope you enjoy it, and if you're in the Philadelphia area, we hope you can come over and see it in person. Where and when you ask? Well, let me tell you:

Moore College of Art and Design
20th St and the Parkway
Philadelphia, PA 19103
Main Lobby Window
April 27- May 14
Monday-Saturday
11am-6pm



This is a big moment for Jackie and I. It's the first time we have worked together on something so large in physical and conceptual scale. Plus, after working so closely together on something so personal, we still love each other. No blow ups, no grudges, just an earnest attempt to make something genuine.




                                      



We will be adding writings about this piece soon, so check back soon.

The piece is, essentially, about the power of myth, and what it means to create one's own.


Love to you all,

Kerdieekrdaad





Monday, March 14, 2011

No to Salt Mountains and Man Butter




This is a participatory piece by Kerrdieekrdaad. We were joking around about how easy it was to be a good artist as a little kid (look mom! I colored in the lines!) and how lovely it would be to make a coloring book piece. This is it. We made the piece in black and white, then showed it with markers, crayons, colored pencils. I'll get some more pictures of it colored in soon.






Saturday, March 12, 2011

First Kerdieekrdaad Series

Kerdieekrdaad, sounds just how it looks. What is it? It's a collaborative curiosity  comprised of the charmingly cantankerous Jacqueline K Maloney and myself. Kerdieekrdaad is becoming a lot of things, but one thing it will never be is jaded. This is my first studio relationship (LOTS more to come on that, I promise) and the brain children are doing just fine. 




Here is the first work Jackie and I did together as Kerdieekrdaad. The series happened out of immense respect for each other's work (maybe a touch of envy in there), a blase opinion about our own work, and general exhaustion. I never thought that working together would be such a powerful experience. 



And look at us now--making a big ol' art baby together. We are able to make things together that neither of us could ever do on our own.



It's like finding a long term partner in a fuck buddy.



If you're reading this, Jackie (you better be reading this, Jackie. If you're not, no one is), know that I had no idea. I could not have imagined being so invigorated, excited and comforted by a studio practice. That's all you, my friend.



More to come soon. Keep that in mind.
Love,
Bribird

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Catch Up

Here is some older work of mine. This is my last year at Moore College of Art & Design--this work is from my junior year.

Because All I've Ever Wanted Was Space
2010
6' x 11'
pen, ink, gouache, relief prints


transparency study 1
2010

transparency study 2
2010

Something Tantric
2010


Please excuse the lack of art photographing etiquette. It will improve.

Much more to come.

Stay tuned,
Bribird




Here goes everything

And so I suppose we're all going to give it a shot. Things can't seem to get any worse in the world, that, what the hell, let's see what one person's effort and energy can accomplish. Like, what else are we gonna do?
The exciting thing is though, is that a lot of people are just going for it. We're all giving a swing at the universe that is within our reach.

So here it goes, big world. I'm making my art. I can't say how much it's gonna do, but I'm gonna do it anyways. I've been doing it for as long as i can remember, and I'm not the only one. There are a lot of us--making our art, our music, our ideas. We're everywhere, and we're not just artists. There are technicians and farmers and blacksmiths and mathematician and writers, etc... There are more of us clearly dissatisfied with the "freedom" we have been "given," and more of us horrified with how much we are a part of the problem. We're going to try to be better.

So here it goes. I'm making my art. I'll let you know how it goes.

Love,
Bribird