Archive | January, 2011

Whirling into February

31 Jan

Tomorrow night I’ll be reading at the February installment of Castalia, the reading series here at the UW MFA program. The headliner is Heather McHugh, and it will be grand!

And then I’m flying off to the massive AWP in DC, to mill about 6,600+ other writers and attend readings and panels galore. The first time I attended AWP was when it was in NYC, so I often scuttled home without a whole lot of hobnobbing. But, I did end up leaving determined to apply to MFA programs and focus on my writing; not long after that, M. and I found ourselves moving cross-country to Seattle. This time, I expect more hobnobbing and less lollygagging, and maybe a better understanding of how I might push my novel out into the world, when the time is right. Probably, less monumental, life-changing decisions will be made, but who’s to say?

Blue Pulsar

2 Jan

Lothar Quinte’s “Blue Pulsar”, Joan Miró’s “Bleu III”, and Yves Klein’s “Sponge Forest” – all have the same inward pull, the same mesmerizing blue. Quinte’s painting, which I saw at the MALBA in Buenos Aires this past August, forms a blue orb on a blue plain, sitting atop a thin red line that thickens, slightly, as it touches the orb’s bottom curve. And in Paris’s Centre Pompidou, Miró’s piece is for falling in, one of three panes of blue with the tiniest red dot and ever so slightly larger black dot, each flung toward the side, becoming swallowed up. Klein, whose work is on view at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, created his own peculiarly intense shade of blue, patented as International Klein Blue. He wanted immaterial art – paintings made with fire, cities of air. He was preoccupied with voids. Yet his shade of blue throbbed.

Elsewhere, at the Knoxville Art Museum, there is an exhibit more tangible. David Bates, an artist from Texas, did a series of monumental portraits documenting the aftermath of Katrina. Here there is no calm immaterial blue, but charred gray and red-yellow eyes and furrowed brows – devastation reflected in muddled flood waters. He began the series while watching the storm unravel on television and then travelled to New Orleans when it became possible to do so.

Both exhibits compel in their own ways. Bates focuses intently on pain while Klein tried to evaporate raw nerves. Both exhibits continue until February 13, if you find yourself in Knoxville or Minneapolis.

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