Sassy Sally: The Zine

I decided to make an awesome Zine! So far I've written an introductory statement.  I'd really like to put on there "Editor's note" or "From the desk of the Editor-in-chief" or something overinflated like that.  Anyways, I hope the zine comes out cool, I figure now that I have two free days that I'm not spending in my studio at school, plus no car to go anywhere, I can work on this and count it as legitimate work.  Plus, since I have high hopes of being a writer, maybe this is the kind of idiosyncratic thing I can use as a portfolio or something one day.

Here it is.  The inaugural issue of Sassy Sally: The Zine.  I kind of feel like this is a hard-copy sequel to my ongoing, formerly eponymous blog.  

Who is Sassy Sally? Well, ol’ Sally is kind of like my alter-ego.  I think of her as a hybrid creature, comprised of Darlene Conner, Enid Coleslaw, and Daria.  With a little bit of Elaine from Seinfeld thrown in for good measure.  Sassy Sally is the spritely postmodern reincarnate within a world that keeps tacking on more pointless, self-negating prefixes.  I think we’ve now crossed the frontier into Post-Post-Post-Modernism.  Anyways, that’s the perspective from whom I write.  Come to think of it, I don’t think Sassy Sally is my alter-ego, as much as she’s my analogous-ego.  But with a snappier, alliterated name.  

In real life, I am a multi-media and process-based visual artist.  I’m vehemently obsessed with the tactile, and I love the dollar store more than anything, for its endless supply of cheap, colorful and sensory-stimulating items.  I hate crowds, I’m an eternal scab-picker, I furiously write to-do lists that often include the task “write to-do list”, and dogs speak to my heart more than human beings ever could.  Basically, what it comes down to is this: I am a twenty-two year old almost-BFA-grad, who is plagued with self-doubt, insecurity, and uncertainty.  I fancy myself both ambitious and incredibly lazy (an archetypal quality of the Millenial generation).  I don’t know how to put together an outfit properly, and more than likely, I’m threatened by you.  

Maybe one day I’ll expand and get an “Ask Sassy Sally” advice column.

PINKIE 2.0

Crafty gal

My Christmas-break craft list was ambitious and lengthy.  It contained DIY projects that involved constructing festive Anthropologie-inspired throw pillows, crocheted afghans with scalloped edges in a veritable palette of glittery holiday colors (to give away as presents, of course!), upcycled, repurposed wood headboards, macrame chandeliers, vintage-y book paper chains, and plans to turn pine cones into everything and anything- from a tableau of the nativity scene (perhaps a vapid gesture to compensate for my standing as a once-per-year-church-going lax Catholic), to Christmas dinner place cards, to peanut butter smeared bird feeders. 

So it turns out that I don't know how to use a sewing machine.  I hardly know the difference between the knit and purl stitches, and have yet to know the carnal pleasures of crochet.  I doubt the old bits of motor-oil soaked lumber sitting in my dad's garage would make for a particularly sanitary home furnishing (but who knows, I am the gal who spied a nifty green chair on the curb and stopped to take it home!), and I can honestly say that I can't even give a proper definition of the word "macrame", though I do know from my french-immersion school upbringing, that the "e" at the end there has an accent-aigu (or is it the other one?) and is pronounced "MA-CRA-MAY".   As for the other crap, I decided that my time would be better spent watching daytime reruns of Maury and Dr Drew's Lifechangers, than bothering to track down cool old books to desecrate.  

But I did accomplish one thing on my list! Upon one trip to the ol' Salvation Army thrift store with my buddy, I came across a sweet little floral-pattern bone china teacup, for only one dollar (a much better deal than at the Goodwill, where the same item would run upwards of seven dollars! Mutiny, I tell you!). So I went to Michaels the following week, where I picked up some lavender-scented soy wax beads and some soy wicks, and melted them down into this lovely little candle.  If I were more professional-like, akin to the plethora of craft blogs that I follow, I would have properly documented the process, and followed it with a written step-by-step.  But to that I say "who gives a fuck". 

So here is my homemade, little-old-lady lavender candle! Because I basically am that little old lady, but with a sailor's mouth.

Crafting success!

The lavender wax smells s'darn good!

Please sir!

Workin' and makin' stuff!

I am much happier with my classes. Which rules. Having school only on MWF is fantastic, and I am thoroughly enjoying working again once again on intricate line drawings for my second-year level drawing option.  I've really forgotten how enjoyable it can be to sit and work at home on a drawing for hours while watching TV.  I'd say this one is about 3/5 finished, and as of right now I am going to call it "English Daisies", even though my english daisies aren't botanically correct, plus they are all tethered together by plant baby-alien tubes and are sprouting little branches and beanstalks.  Plus there are some tattoo-y roses thrown in there for good measure.  Oh, and the first few photos are just of a few of the random things I have nearby for visual fodder.

Good times.  I should maybe start putting this much enthusiasm into deciding what to make for my grad piece.

Foot in the door

The good news is this: I am finally back in my studio.  And after the first chat of the new year with my six-time studio instructor (it just worked out that I've taken his classes every semester since my second year!), and all-around favorite person ever, Jim, I am feeling much better about things.  I am on the road to making things, and I think I've finally reached a decision to either take a year off, and try my hand at gettin' a foot in the door with the arts journalism community (though, this endeavor might prove easier said than done...), or look into post-BFA journalism programs at either SAIT or Mount Royal University.  So that's good news.  Plus I am currently stuffing my face with Swiss Chalet leftovers, which always makes me happy.  It reminds me of this graphic novel I read called Skim, where the girl goes and hides from her classmates in an actual Swiss Chalet restaurant because everybody annoys her.  I don't blame her one bit.
Soon I'll stop chronicling the inner-workings of my mind at try to get back to more professional-type postings.  But alas, my brain is a total pastiche of thoughts and layers.

yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes

YES!!!!!!!!!!

Today is the best day ever! After enduring a brutalizing morning listening to a painful reading of the PRNT211: Intro to Intaglio (in-tal-ee-OH) course outline, and a stern warning from the frightening and flamboyant print technician regarding how everything in this room has the potential to kill or maim me, I made what I thought was a futile trip to the registrar's office, to see if there was any other elective that did not require (again!) painful technical demonstrations and safety lectures and equipment quizzes (note: I'd spent my entire past week stuck at home, ravaged by the effects of an unholy head cold, all the while searching the ends of the earth to locate an adequate drawing elective to replace the equally horrible friday Print on Cloth class: DRWG 203: Representations of Nature turned out to be my saving grace!)  Anyways, so after all of the trouble I went to, e-mailing teachers, and trying my luck with online registration, I thought I'd be up the creek.  But, as it turns out- and I've had two different registrar gals check and double check, followed up by a little investigative verification of my own, I DON'T NEED THIS CLASS ANYWAYS. Yep, I am happy to say that what with working hard, taking 5 classes per semester since first year, and a few transfer credits, I am a mere three courses away from graduation. That means TWO FREE DAYS. Of course, by "free days", I mean, working in my own studio, at my own leisure and pace, completing whatever the fuck I deem important on my to-do list.  And yes, that will also mean extra naps.
Hooray Hooray Hooray.
Plus, this is just further proof as to why I chose the right major: because painting can't kill me! Well, I suppose I could use copious amounts of Cadmium Red each and everyday forever to get a little heavy metal poisoning.  But all that really does is mess up your reproductive organs, and I hate babies anyways! Win-Win!

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Eighth and final semester, day two:  Somebody fucking kill me.

No, seriously. Today I went to my Friday class, an elective known as Fibre 200-something, also known as Printing On Cloth.  Oh right, so this is why I decided to be a painting major.  Because technical processes are both laborious and daunting to me.  I would much rather have total and instantaneous control over my product, the pure extension of my own hand.  Which is why I love to make paintings! the spontaneity and ability to judge based on intuitive response, and the most technical aspect of it all is stretching a damn canvas! Okay, so I don't really make too many of those these days, I still absolutely love to do it! But this need for instant gratification could also account for why I make videos.  Well, why I make videos the way that I do.  Which is to say low-tech, based in process-by-play (a new term that I just coined, referring to a process that involves tons of glitter play dough, spray foamy, glitter, and other fun things that I also enjoyed when I was five), and so bizarre that little editing is even required.  For the record, my editing skills are limited to iMovie, and rudimentary at best.  And after that, I can project the thing on a big ol' wall, turn up the speakers, and voila! A giant, no-mess, mobile, writhing, bizarre, vortex of an artworkz.  But yet today I endured an entire day (see: 9AM-5:30PM...dear God that's not artmaking, that's a full shift) of my first ever stab at an actual Fibre course, as well as at silkscreening.  And I have to say, I don't much care for it.  The minutiae of cleaning the screen within 30 SECONDS OF APPLYING THE PIGMENT AND...wait, what was the technical term for it? Shit, I just learned it, "PULLING", LEST IT DRY AND RUIN THE PRECIOUS SCREEN FOREVER, is just beyond what I can bear.  Somehow, I found myself upstaged by the second years, who had actually taken similar courses before, as my work area was just covered in ink, resulting from improperly centered silkscreens. The idea that I should spend all this time in a studio that is not mine, taught by an instructor who is apparently dead-set on the idea that she is teaching only overzealous second (and first) year future Fibre-majors, is just revolting.  Plus, we're not even allowed to bring our beverages into the space, lest we die from toxic...airborne...ingestion? And a late policy that just doesn't work for me, on Fridays, in this, my last ever semester.  I could continue my self-indulgent rant, but I realize that this may be childish, and I should quit complaining and perhaps listen to the instructor's demos with an open mind that might just instill upon me a new craft! Meh, if I want a fun drawing emblazoned upon my T-shirt, I'll just learn how to do iron-on.  In the mean time, I've got to find another class to switch this one for. Save me.

we must kill our darlings

Ick. I go back to school on thursday, meaning I only have two glorious, school-free days left.  Two days to lounge about and not bother peeling myself out of my sweatpants and slippers.  Christmas break is easily my favorite holiday of all, and for a multitude of reasons.  First of all, I love to get into the festive spirit and decorate and make crafts and bake cookies with my mommy.  Second of all, since it is the winter, it means that I haven't started back at my job at the greenhouse yet (and won't until april), therefore I have three consecutive weeks to do whatever I want.  No waking up early (minus the one day I volunteered for my Mom, who is a school librarian, by helping her in her library- though that was for half a day and it's always fun (if I weren't going to be doing something in the Arts, I'd definitely want to be a librarian!), and the one day I "volunteered" at a hockey tournament with my buddy for a cool $50 cash.), no dashing off to sell shit to frenzied holiday customers, and no real schedule.  I sort of enjoy waking up and having no clue what day of the week it is- the only landmarks that I use during this holiday are: the weekend trip to Edmonton for our annual family Christmas party, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Mom's birthday (the 28th), and New Years Eve.  After that, I have to start watching the calendar (my choice between my new Mr. Winkle calendar or my new 365 days of Kitties desk calendar!) to make sure that I don't miss my first day back to class.  Which, alas, is thursday.  Before I get back to the grind, I hope to spend my final days as a free woman doing some baking, shopping, chillen', and yoga- which I've missed since December the 19th.  That's just not okay.  But I suppose I should be happy, as I'm heading into my eighth and final semester at the ol' Art College.  The next time I see any real freedom (save for Reading Week), I will be an educated gal, hanging up a framed Bachelor of Fine Arts degree on my wall.  Honestly, my last four classes are promising to be fairly stress-free, given two are second year electives to fill credits, and one is my final senior painting studio, taught by an epic, jovial man who really isn't into pushing too hard.  The fourth class, FINA450, is a bit of a crapshoot, so we'll see about that, but I'm at the point where I am more concerned with what I'm going to do post-BFA, that I really just want to do the minimal amount of work possible, hopefully breeze my way into a solid grad piece, and get the hell out of there. Thankfully my grad paper is complete and finished forever, so that's out of the way, and in my jury critique last month, one of the instructors quoted Mark Twain, saying that as artists, we have to learn to "kill our darlings", by that, he means relinquish all ties to aesthetic and conceptual qualities that have roots in history and convention.  I think that's a mighty solid piece of advice to take, because now in my final semester, I am going to try to make the ugliest, weirdest shit I can possibly make, and not tether it to some specific idea or concept.  It's time to make art that is basically a clusterfuck, because after I graduate, I don't plan on being a professional artist, so I guess now is the time to enjoy it while it lasts.  (But honestly, I don't even know if I have one semester left of creative juices and/or ideas. Ugh)
April, here I come.