A Few of My Favorite Things

Every image I've ever put at the top of my blog over the last five years:

Food For Thought Friday

“People are not stupid. They believe things for reasons. The last way for skeptics [or feminists, or whoever] to get the attention of bright, curious, intelligent people is to belittle or condescend or to show arrogance toward their beliefs.” -Carl Sagan

From a post on Empowering LDS Women. Here is her main argument, which I love and try to live:

Juanita Brooks was a historian who covered some of the more painful aspects of Mormon history, including the Mountain Meadows Massacre. My Dad shared this quote with me from Juanita Brooks’ father, and I later heard Greg Prince share it again on a podcast interviewh:


"One day Dad said to me, “My girl, if you follow this tendency to criticize, I’m afraid you will talk yourself out of the Church. I’d hate to see you do that. I’m a cowboy and I've learned that if I ride in the herd, I am lost. … One who rides counter to it is trampled and killed. One who only trails behind means little because he leaves all responsibility to others. It is the cowboy who rides the edge of the herd, who sings and calls and makes himself heard, who helps direct the course. So don’t lose yourself, and don’t ride away and desert the outfit. Ride the edge of the herd and be alert, and know your directions and call out loud and clear. Chances are you won’t make any difference, but on the other hand, you just might.”


The edge of the herd is certainly not a comfortable place. Those of us on the edge are often misunderstood both by those in the middle of the herd as well as by those who have left the herd. If we’re careful, though, we are in the best position to make a positive difference, and to change the course of the herd for the better. We are the game-changers and the bridge-builders.

I hope that's what I'm doing. I sent an email to Deseret Book this week, suggesting a small change in how they fit newly endowed members for clothes, in the hopes of saving girls money and stress. I got a positive response back. No need to protest, cry, or get angry. I have just a little voice, and I will continue to use it.

27 and Basquiat

 I found out today that Basquiat was 27 when he OD'd on heroin (1988) and deprived the rest of us of an artistic cannon that could have, should have, spanned a full lifetime.

I'm 27, too.

A friend of mine took the time to go to Basquiat's grave in Brooklyn. I thought that was a compelling sojourn for January 21st, 2013, the date of President Obama's second inauguration and Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

Jean-Michel Basquiat lived one of those lives that puts us normal 27-year-olds to shame. A gifted artist--really, one of those rare people who merit the title of genius-- he was adept at drawing by age 4, trilingual by age 11. He grew up in a tumultuous Brooklyn household to a Haitian father and a Puerto Rican mother, who was committed to a mental institution when he was 11. He spent his teenage years running away from and then being brought back home, on and off the streets. He drew postcards and sold t-shirts to support himself and began a notorious graffiti art track. "SAMO" was he and his tagging partner Al Diaz's calling card, which stood for "Same Old Shit." They tagged high and low profile buildings alike. I loved this quote regarding Basquiat's graffiti moving beyond mere public defacement:

"SAMO marked the witty sayings of a precocious and worldly teenage mind that, even at that early juncture, saw the world in shades of gray, fearlessly juxtaposing corporate commodity structures with the social milieu he wished to enter: the predominately white art world. ”
— Franklin Sirmans, In the Cipher: Basquiat and Hip Hop Culture

I've never really dug into Basquiat's story, just casually noted his raucous canvases on the walls at my favorite art museums. He is held up as a black James Dean, a shooting-star-like presence in the irreverent 1980s art scene: the first black American man to break into the pristine white high art world (and many will argue, the first AND the best to date).

J-M B., Leeches, Daros Collection, Switzerland, 1983

If you know me, you know I am attracted to printed words and text in art. What a fantastic mind! You can feel the energy, the frantic evaluation of his world and its ills, leaching through the canvas.

"Basquiat's canon revolves around single heroic figures: athletes, prophets, warriors, cops, musicians, kings and the artist himself. In these images the head is often a central focus, topped by crowns, hats, and halos. In this way the intellect is emphasized, lifted up to notice, privileged over the body and the physicality of these figures (i.e. black men) commonly represent in the world."
— Kellie Jones, Lost in Translation: Jean-Michel in the (Re)Mix

Fascinating how Basquiat the man mirrored those things, those idols, that inspired and tantalized him. I wonder if that's one of the reasons he's so beloved by pop culture today; not only is he a tragic figure, his art reveals the types of concentrated musings and the frustrated, angry, fruitful rages we each encounter within ourselves while passing struggling through modern life.

Basquiat had a musical career, too, rapping with friends and designing album covers (now highly coveted objects in the art world). He counted Andy Warhol as a good friend and collaborator. Their spin on the Olympic rings still intrigues me; they totally take away the vaunted symbolic capacity of the rings and make them into something more grounded, more gritty. The painting, to me, must be how many athletes think of the games when they're still 2 years out: an elusive mistress, a demanding, demeaning boss, and a haunting dream.

Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat, Olympic Rings, 1985, Acrylic and silkscreen on canvas, Gagaosian Gallery

Basquiat's boisterous artistic jaunts around town brought him to the attention of Artforum magazine in 1981, which ran a story calling him "The Radiant Child." Larry Gagosian, infamous New York art dealer/ art king-maker, allotted Basquiat several solo shows in his prestigious galleries and gave him the run of the studio space in his own private home in Venice.

I used the word irreverent already and that's the best way to describe him. You hear scraps of information, whispers of urban legends about all of Basquiat's crazy stunts: painting in Armani suits, scribbling weed-inspired cartoons on magazine covers that later sold for thousands of dollars, painting on women's skirts, etc. The comparison between he and Jackson Pollock is striking (especially late JP when he's angst-y and starts putting human faces back in his paintings). Both lived fast, died young, one was responsible for the machismo Abstract-Expressionist movement, the second made waves as a Neo-Expressionist who also boldly addressed race issues and tensions with his jarring, colorific, wildly composed pieces.

Jackson Pollock, Portrait and a Dream, Dallas Museum of Fine Arts, 1953

J-M B., Untitled Acrylic and Mixed Media on Canvas, 1984 

Sensational, haunting, challenging, uncomfortable, unforgettable, intellectual, enterprising, inspiring, vivid, violent. It's late now, Obama may have even finally gone to bed. What a world we live in. Freedoms are hard won, it's good to remember that, thanks Basquiat. Freedom of expression, of life, of passion.

Nerd Rap Sheet

My friend B is a magnificent girl. Today she confessed her ubernerd origins to me: in high school she was the type who could carry on an entire conversation in Elvish and always threatened to don a cloak to school. I smiled at her after this revelation and admitted dryly, "I went through a phase where I collected Noah's ark figurines. I have to have at least twelve or so stashed in a closet at my parents' house."

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=  Friend MFEO's, am I right??

Tonight I wanted to let all the inner nerds out there have a communal moment in the sun. Here is a recap of my more special adolescent fancies, so that some of you can feel not-so-nerdy and some of you who think you're too cool for school can feel even MORE cool than ever (though I bet you know more about the Kardashians than B or I ever will- LAME.):

My American girl doll (Samantha) occupied a prominent place in my room til probably... ninth grade.

I played the flute in middle school. I think I only made it as high as 3rd chair.

I never went to detention once in my entire 13 years of public school.

During a cross-country road trip with my cousins I prepared and presented an oral report on Adam-Ondi-Ahman. They threatened to maroon me.

For several tween years my favorite movie was The Net with Sandra Bullock, and I cherished the dream of being a computer hacker who spent her days chatting with friends whom she knew only by their edgy screen names and avatars.

Thanks to the brothers, I am fully versed in the Star Wars and Lord of the Rings universes. I held my own in a group of boys last night who were discussing lore, out-factoiding and out-quoting them all! Owning it.

And, the nerdishness continues into the present day. For example,

I have a blog.

I have a Master's degree in Art History.

The end.