Eraser Landscape

I took an impression of the pieces of eraser left on the art room table today.

It was a lot. A lot a lot.

Some people demonstrate anxiety by
pressing down on a pencil or crayon really hard,
some people
color with a marker over a spot so many times that the paper rips. 
There are countless ways people demonstrate anxiety
with art materials.

One of those ways is erasing.

Erasing until the eraser is gone,
until it's just a nub. 
Erasing until there's a rip in the paper. 
Once a mark is made it's almost impossible to completely unmake. 
Must keep erasing. 
Even after it's no longer making any changes,
erasing, erasing, erasing. 
The eraser is ripped to pieces
and you blow the pieces around the table,
or maybe make a pile of them as you deftly wipe them off the paper like garbage. 
These little sticky white rubber pieces that aren't useful anymore,
not that they were useful in the first place,
at least after the first few passes.

The art room was empty. 
I couldn't resist. 
I saw a mountain range of pilled-up eraser pieces
and I had to have a picture somehow. 
I didn't have my camera.

So I gently laid my paper
over the mountain range
and rubbed with a pencil.

First, I rubbed lightly,
but it wasn't coming out how I liked
so I tried adding pressure. 
Then I just kept going. 
And the rubbing of the pencil
seemed to mimic the movement
the eraser must have made. 
A dance to honor the death of a once-useful yellow artist's eraser.

I made four xerox copies of the rubbing
so I could keep it
without getting graphite all over myself
(too late).

 

It wasn't enough.

When I got home I took an eraser and
erased the rubbing of the eraser. 
Erased, erased, erased
until I ripped the page. 
Then erased some more. 
It's very hard to erase a xerox,
and the eraser is useless
after the first layer. 
At first I thought I might make a design
but I realized quickly that was impossible
so I focused on simply erasing the pigment from the page.

Tectonic plates collided,
earthquakes formed a new landscape in the wrinkles of the paper.

I erased so much
the fiber of the paper cracked
and felt soft and smooth like cotton.

I stopped because my hand hurt and
I felt like what I was doing was useless.

After all that work,
all I had was a ripped sheet of paper
and a used-up eraser.


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Frequent poems

I decided I want to write more poems not connected to artwork but I don't want to fill my blog with them. So I created a new blog to post these poems. But don't worry, the poems will be posted on my this blog in the top right corner, just not filling the main space with them!

If you want to check out those poems alone (because you only use an RSS reader and you're especially curious), the feed is:

http://jewishgalpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss

Maybe I can use some of these poems for inspiration for art projects when I am seriously in need of ideas. (haha)

Sneak Peek!

I installed my piece in the show today... it took 5 hours, yes, five whole hours, but it's done. Installed and done. It looks so good. It's all of my thesis artwork and poetry in one place, grouped together and everything. If you've read my thesis, you'll understand it more than just seeing it on the wall, but I think even just seeing it on the wall will be interesting. The poetry will invite people to become intimately involved in my pieces, not just letting them view them from a distance.

Can't wait to see what everyone's stuff looks like on Friday!!!!

A Positive Fantasy

Almost like a womb (again)
Growing (again)
It isn't growing alone, it is surrounded by health and vitality.
It's safe here to come out -
And if you aren't ready to come out we will reach in and help you realize
This is healing water
Water to help you grow.
It is not poisoned.
It comes from the fresh sky and the fresh rain and lands on fresh, fertile earth.
This time it is different
This time you can put down roots.
This is good soil
This is good earth
This is good water,
Clean and fresh.
It's okay because this time when it rains it will be just enough.
And when you're planted it won't be so deep you won't be able to get out.
And the sun will obey its natural cycles and come and go as the sun does.


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Protecting My Eyes

My eyes are the chariot that protects
The lids droop to protect the eyes
From taking in
As if the light is too bright and will burn the retinas causing permanent, irreversible damage.
Oh.
It's that serious...
The chariot patrols the borders through my eyelids
The shape of my eyelashes reflect its spines,
Its protective gear,
Keeping out contaminants
Keeping out the harsh rays that threaten to destroy my vision
Forever.
It's okay to let them droop.
Plants grow in the dark.
Did you know that?
Too much sun can kill even a cactus.
They need the dark to grow and digest.
So keep your lids down,
So you can grow and heal.


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