tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17517869065006084112024-03-05T14:41:42.080-08:00Steve's BlogStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-70085299086278275232010-01-17T12:23:00.000-08:002010-01-17T14:55:38.445-08:00Inside pockets, envelopes, gloves, slippers, hats; cozy places<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIGNoPWZ9fdU_96DfGGn5W7I2qWHsXjJFqv49rimJj06qiCVePuAUehckAk-zEddmVYnixa8k3bAfp9WFbgeQ-2qNG3mUnqXr06_jpd7HaoSVClH5VC6hY8Oc7siBouZU5tKDdY170qs/s1600-h/jeans-IMG_1166-copy.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIGNoPWZ9fdU_96DfGGn5W7I2qWHsXjJFqv49rimJj06qiCVePuAUehckAk-zEddmVYnixa8k3bAfp9WFbgeQ-2qNG3mUnqXr06_jpd7HaoSVClH5VC6hY8Oc7siBouZU5tKDdY170qs/s400/jeans-IMG_1166-copy.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427846011734637810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9k0tb-fEZDoHTOkiV-wbTkKnWw5qPROMQZkHk0uUgmiSXI6-DM2Vc7kyPgr2-NTEfOYCUuCmtWyn0p83i5sQ0vrF6rQ3hZnk41MiGujoClNuLC1jmKVm7u5SWugGeIly7TQUuEFOTm1s/s1600-h/robe-IMG_1203-copy.gif"><img style="float:left; 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margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhN9yP1WeXkCxoi_xtpUbtvKRheCzuLb_a_wCGNqC116RfhKcNlhN6Tg0kB_N8_W4Tdg5-cejKgF-CMiRBtBo4H_L3Mk-3j99bUeLOtfPi_jdLIKKHxAoSaNdapriTbfxg4NaMKVxy4Q/s400/Pink-Envelope-IMG_1140-copy.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427844316859234290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyddGGQkKnq_lSrwFwBkHR-tWmMTGqZUt6G_g4uXrj7dnl2vArsMYeKmdf5WULk_k7jRXAmcLfe2OJgMA0M6YAIA6g56RgUmOz7fc66y9vJFXL2_eSB73fu_XsYMRvNZZZ-BqSOZV6G6s/s1600-h/glove-IMG_1600.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyddGGQkKnq_lSrwFwBkHR-tWmMTGqZUt6G_g4uXrj7dnl2vArsMYeKmdf5WULk_k7jRXAmcLfe2OJgMA0M6YAIA6g56RgUmOz7fc66y9vJFXL2_eSB73fu_XsYMRvNZZZ-BqSOZV6G6s/s400/glove-IMG_1600.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427844165867359010" /></a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-41984415741309654442009-12-13T16:14:00.001-08:002009-12-13T16:16:55.190-08:00more Dirty Fruits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpv6ShBefisXMKshl8UVwy19bHmXGFQAAYzRj5T79PpwaOMEBwykO7LFwqeE2d5lYc4VZMatbw56G4-R1oi4TTPWzQ6j_EQW_sYzHJR8tWhlURCAZByaioEAMPnyzERd9a3v_KcPofpY/s1600-h/Pomegranate-IMG_1052-copy.gif"><img style="float:left; 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He could smell flowers on the opposite end of town. He could even feel the vibration of someone opening the door to his apartment building, 27 floors below. But that was also the trouble. If a person whispered into his ear, Ted could hear saliva trickling between their teeth; lint rustling in their pockets. Ted would get migraines from the sounds of roaches scurrying inside the walls. During thunderstorms his ears would bleed. He had to seal his apartment with tape to keep the stench of urine out. Everything was lined with layers of insulation, foam, and black cloth. Even then he could see plainly in the dead of night, just by the light that streamed through the pinholes and the cracks everywhere, all around him.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-5902318260094904832009-12-06T18:00:00.001-08:002009-12-06T18:53:38.509-08:00New Works in-progressI just wanted to share some work I've been creating in the studio. Lately I've been pursuing a variety of projects that had been on my to-do list rather than focusing on just one. Some are more experimental than others, but all are important for some reason or another. I'd love to hear feedback from anyone. Expect to see more finished projects in the coming weeks.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN72eoqy1jgndPN-c26Ui7hVjdzUI5GN45sZ7DImFlkjRYfkNfuaA2We-rsVykecfN-cg9FOzPGQ7nyLytwQ-bWYLZCc9lPWCcBr1RoiuN6e3zfKl-OdpMhyphenhyphenMhPXewkV_OvrljZF1wsxE/s1600-h/1-IMG_0651-copy.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN72eoqy1jgndPN-c26Ui7hVjdzUI5GN45sZ7DImFlkjRYfkNfuaA2We-rsVykecfN-cg9FOzPGQ7nyLytwQ-bWYLZCc9lPWCcBr1RoiuN6e3zfKl-OdpMhyphenhyphenMhPXewkV_OvrljZF1wsxE/s400/1-IMG_0651-copy.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412316292798503394" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh119oPB5OpVOu1EwshTR10DCq7AA-hn-OyRd2i29WUCMdQOQnvpPGlJcfaiDCBbhziVkF4b0HCh1CMbztO8Ust_mH3FT-M4gEeQ48DqMt8BrvTZoAVNQNFaGCgc1olE-OuU3yoxH-sXZ8/s1600-h/2-Carnival_IMG_0677-copy.gif"><img style="float:left; 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margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_F8kOgzzMl5KABmLxxniCaNz9z1LQLUzVSlyePmpEMF2UynFnfhySmtfm86bd73zp49qO8mcc4Kt0o0OXUo6_h4inSnBJi4t52i3j995jIL51mK0StD1NraVNscJXEsyzCFifwTc9kUk/s400/23-IMG_0990-copy.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412314112840707154" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-CLnQfKr32YTAHynM6JHO6AtONF-ZylvPRGQ_v35aoosxn_BkLcNX9ZlRN2-YkRg6oerGLuZipuagdQPRRpZKsOGy3mot37cfVi9WD9cf6LWlfxSFCENYfzsrMOqo8czEpGeg5BlvfII/s1600-h/24-IMG_1003-copy.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-CLnQfKr32YTAHynM6JHO6AtONF-ZylvPRGQ_v35aoosxn_BkLcNX9ZlRN2-YkRg6oerGLuZipuagdQPRRpZKsOGy3mot37cfVi9WD9cf6LWlfxSFCENYfzsrMOqo8czEpGeg5BlvfII/s400/24-IMG_1003-copy.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412314035347343346" /></a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-49796141879639468562009-04-18T10:05:00.000-07:002009-04-18T10:13:39.140-07:00Artist's Statement for Playsets series - Rough Draft<span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The following is the first draft of my statement describing my Playsets series.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />There’s a new generation of kids in my family: my nephews and nieces. Part of the ritual of welcoming them into the world has involved multiple trips to the basement, from which my mother has unearthed and unboxed many of the things my brothers and I grew up with. Objects layered in dust and sometimes mold; some things I expected and some I never thought I would see again. Many interesting artifacts have emerged to be sure, but what stood out to me were a group of well used playsets, sitting quietly in the corner of my mother’s living room, waiting to be played with. When I saw them it was as if two wires crossed; I could see them just as I had when I was a kid, just as I had last seen them, and I could see them just as I am now, as an adult, with all the experiences and knowledge I’ve gained since these toys were packed away.<br /><br />I had an immediate desire to peer into these playsets, not just to see them but to experience the worlds they contained. Chief among them were an old barn and an old firehouse, spaces that mimicked the real world only partially, filling most of the details with cartoonish wonder and enthusiasm. I set about the process of immersing myself in them, and sharing that inhabitation, using the method that seemed the simplest and made the most sense to me: by peering through the lens of my camera. <br /><br />Before I get too far I should backtrack a little, and explain more about what playsets are. A simple way to think about them is to think of a dollhouse, but to layer on top of that a more diverse range of themes, from occupational to the purely fantastic. Wikipedia defines them as:<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Playsets are themed collections of similar toys designed to work together to enact some action or event. The most common toy playsets involve plastic figures, accessories, and possibly buildings or scenery, purchased together in a common box. Some sets during the '60s and '70s were offered within metal "suitcase" containers that also functioned as part of the playset.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">First pioneered by metal figure manufacturers around the turn of the 20th Century, usually as military "play" figures with simple accessories, the concept of the playset was further developed by companies like Marx Toys, Superior Toy, Remco, Deluxe Reading, Multiple Toymakers (MPC) and others throughout the Baby Boomer era. Several manufacturers continue to produce playsets today.(1)</span><br /><br />I have been predominantly interested in playsets as spaces that people imagine themselves to occupy. In order to facilitate this feeling of being in the space, I’ve avoided the plastic figures that would occupy the playsets in our stead. What we’re seeing here really are the buildings and scenery which provide the foundations for these worlds.<br /><br />There is a huge history for playsets, and while my focus isn’t on chronicling that history I have been interested in exploring a diverse range them. After photographing several of my own old playsets I began collecting others to include in the project. This includes a restaurant playset from the 1950’s, which is made of paper and folds out from a cigar box. It also includes a tin ‘log cabin’ playset from the 60’s, covered with lithographed scenery. In addition, there’s a space station playset based on the 70’s TV show “Space: 1999.”<br /><br />Arguably there’s an aspect of nostalgia for these spaces, but my interest is in what these spaces represent, the function they serve, and how it feels to occupy them. I’ve focused on used playsets, things that not only have a history but feels as through they speak to the history of these spaces as well. They show the wear and tear of things that have been played with; torn stickers, scratched plastic, and wrinkled vinyl. These are all playsets that have drawn in kids before, and as they are returned to my mother’s living room, I know they will draw in kids again.<br /><br />I believe that the appeal of these playsets is born out of the desires of children and adults alike. Many of them depict very ordinary, everyday situations from homes to classrooms and hospitals. It makes sense that parents would want their kids to practice and learn about these areas, and yet there’s often a way in which kids want to play at and take ownership of these as well. The playsets also contain a certain idealization that would appeal to both; bright colors, bold shapes, and clean edges. I’m not so sure that means that these playsets represent the world as we’d prefer it to be, but seeing the enlarged photographs hanging on a wall certainly creates an interesting juxtaposition.<br /><br />For me, looking at these images is exciting. They offer me a chance to look at the world with a childlike perspective, full of wonderment and optimism. They are wonderful both in their intricate detail and their peculiar abstraction. Tiny clocks have the time of day permanently embossed on them just as beds have the outlines of their occupants permanently indented. Walls are covered with drawings of shelves complete with books, fireplaces filled with crackling flames, and floorboards with mice gleefully running along them. Yet at the same time, looking at these images is saddening. Perhaps it’s that stark contrast between these spaces and the world I know. It could be that these scenes are just too empty without the figurines that usually occupy them. Or it could be that feeling of being a visitor in house in which I no longer live.<br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">References:</span><br />1. Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Playset. Retrieved on April 18, 2009. </span></span> <br /></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-67053798906656688672009-04-02T17:01:00.000-07:002009-04-02T17:35:42.064-07:00Polly's Boutique Playset<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzHYcw836pR6YT6ACcKhZyDYwuleIIrq4YInasfAJDPhZZCjMhgZASToK5hWShVquCsWZsgZwHV-fzXou3ozVO_evgxU0PZLCFqHXX3m5BYXPO01pXdFAItXlpUNKxlzNDKQzPYWRDSI/s1600-h/Polly's+Boutique+IMG_7717.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHzHYcw836pR6YT6ACcKhZyDYwuleIIrq4YInasfAJDPhZZCjMhgZASToK5hWShVquCsWZsgZwHV-fzXou3ozVO_evgxU0PZLCFqHXX3m5BYXPO01pXdFAItXlpUNKxlzNDKQzPYWRDSI/s400/Polly's+Boutique+IMG_7717.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320257225290316674" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP53sNYDuepxiGttJAQ_IbIJ22ZJKkxR0W_vrNgsfLtywcUr47XIi5LXus7vV34lABGmZuA9OOkjdxhgJzGeYWTMtZJ_OSM5XCdx3TNwXqNKEiOb4v3l1934pmAoeI9fYy5jY1aVgo1io/s1600-h/Polly's+Boutique+IMG_7718.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP53sNYDuepxiGttJAQ_IbIJ22ZJKkxR0W_vrNgsfLtywcUr47XIi5LXus7vV34lABGmZuA9OOkjdxhgJzGeYWTMtZJ_OSM5XCdx3TNwXqNKEiOb4v3l1934pmAoeI9fYy5jY1aVgo1io/s400/Polly's+Boutique+IMG_7718.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320257101951439682" /></a><br /><br />I must confess that this new playset was one of the more difficult to photograph. This is because the playset is very small and absolutely packed with stuff. The central building also happens to be transparent, which didn't show up very well regardless of the background. As you can see, I ended up lighting the entire set from that clear building, and I think it turned out pretty well. Beyond serving the basic functions of making the space feel less 'busy and preventing you from seeing the areas where the playset doesn't extend to the edge of the frame, the lighting gives the whole space a magical quality that I think is interesting. I'd liken that quality to some of the Disney light-up castle playsets I've seen. <div><br /></div><div>There are two variations here - the only difference is that in the lower image I've burned in the interior of the central building using a second exposure I made. I could burn that in more or less.</div><div><br />I'm not sure if this image is taken from too high of a vantage point to make you feel like you're in the space; the advantage to the height is that you can actually see the things that are happening much better. </div><div><br /></div><div>I also want to mention that this is the first 'outdoor' playset in the series, which I think is important. Hopefully I will add more pieces with this landscape quality.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-31845049545864372512009-03-28T10:51:00.000-07:002009-03-28T11:07:40.435-07:003 New Images - potential to be in Playset series, maybe...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26zeAqfqTt74ZbEmJuiIf4NbnUO2RGN63GB28C7K0ZxeUzrNc8fQ2X3oHTYVjn5tbznr7MkAh9DerLURrs0n-ZZPJpCD2XESM1nNj2WX40jFweDXa6cIaP-V85c8fqxKjVHMV3Qzkz8w/s1600-h/House+IMG_7641.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26zeAqfqTt74ZbEmJuiIf4NbnUO2RGN63GB28C7K0ZxeUzrNc8fQ2X3oHTYVjn5tbznr7MkAh9DerLURrs0n-ZZPJpCD2XESM1nNj2WX40jFweDXa6cIaP-V85c8fqxKjVHMV3Qzkz8w/s400/House+IMG_7641.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318300147892963026" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkWOgHdHmGU02ya9zAUZ6RzAWo3BIAVsPwlk1KCcXeZe-vreYVsCaIKr35yOLBbRAFA1Bc4i8-ja855czJNZOVzCHK7_K7Y1AvSFLrpoQB55vqmDFrU1N1es_R7VReear4PZRJVBy3yU/s1600-h/Planet+IMG_7602.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHkWOgHdHmGU02ya9zAUZ6RzAWo3BIAVsPwlk1KCcXeZe-vreYVsCaIKr35yOLBbRAFA1Bc4i8-ja855czJNZOVzCHK7_K7Y1AvSFLrpoQB55vqmDFrU1N1es_R7VReear4PZRJVBy3yU/s400/Planet+IMG_7602.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318300042178499810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8M6_GK2Fa5miSOnU0XsJXCBamcMN0bLqVrKAsvpgzItQtvGIgbl77BwcuUdTRkql7dxvI_CERqQwdWXgFSfeRWFoqRFSR1aAxKJmzJJTpIpVDebb6XSTMAFVYKOPQlwdoOYlaIxvlW8/s1600-h/Jungle+IMG_7616.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8M6_GK2Fa5miSOnU0XsJXCBamcMN0bLqVrKAsvpgzItQtvGIgbl77BwcuUdTRkql7dxvI_CERqQwdWXgFSfeRWFoqRFSR1aAxKJmzJJTpIpVDebb6XSTMAFVYKOPQlwdoOYlaIxvlW8/s400/Jungle+IMG_7616.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318299923603615394" /></a>These three images are "colorform" playsets, which are technically 2-D playsets. These all came with reusable stickers which serve as the figures and objects in the scenes. <div><br /></div><div>I'm not sure that these can go in the series I've started. Maybe they're a new tangent, maybe they are a dead end. In any event, I photographed them, so I figured I may as well share them here. I'll be thinking about these.</div><div><br /></div><div>Couple other notes about the series as a whole:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. I think I'll print these at 30 x 45 inches. I think this would be a good size since I want them to be large, but I think that they shouldn't be huge. For reference, my Underneath photos are 18 inches tall and my Interiors photos are 40 inches tall, so these would fall in between.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. I think I'm going to submit three of these for a group show. I think that a good pairing, indicative of the group, would include the Barn, Moonbase, and Firehouse. It's a tough call though.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's all for now. Thanks for looking at these!</div><div><br /></div><div>-Steve</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-69575858573359621092009-03-28T09:59:00.000-07:002009-03-31T16:31:01.182-07:00New Playset photo: Starship<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaps292JoceXrAVlRpOMzE8LMfWI58OJKbi-ZEezFW8Ls-0DYZ8rL0D2aXijV3FoNd0y230eJiQeHjebHeX4ruXwmQglvuue1UZd31SaxB036w-ATkWMZ-sRylSMjoi2JIY6hqngcVhZA/s1600-h/Starship+IMG_7637+adjusted+small.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaps292JoceXrAVlRpOMzE8LMfWI58OJKbi-ZEezFW8Ls-0DYZ8rL0D2aXijV3FoNd0y230eJiQeHjebHeX4ruXwmQglvuue1UZd31SaxB036w-ATkWMZ-sRylSMjoi2JIY6hqngcVhZA/s400/Starship+IMG_7637+adjusted+small.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319498486625259794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67JjPFv2hcimZQg8B_sFP4KlivLBRl_nItrR7DX9EOpMzhn16eXUaQy-wapuk-895nhbO-A7wRa1Eb_UnaGUiIJ-DcxoJgQY1gB5HdLiD1ApACiGW0IR_erDZ6sOncUHLdLsccD24uA4/s1600-h/Starship+IMG_7637.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67JjPFv2hcimZQg8B_sFP4KlivLBRl_nItrR7DX9EOpMzhn16eXUaQy-wapuk-895nhbO-A7wRa1Eb_UnaGUiIJ-DcxoJgQY1gB5HdLiD1ApACiGW0IR_erDZ6sOncUHLdLsccD24uA4/s400/Starship+IMG_7637.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318284498506668290" /></a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-7973612077405841942009-03-25T20:49:00.000-07:002009-03-28T12:40:38.627-07:00Restaurant Playset<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9iTyCHACC7uwTaP4n6k7aXoohxFl_Q-Zlb8UAw4OntGAobQcsdVuxQ3wQqj2QuyypUpbUtMzbDBPoGvbvvQVRW40HrU78yPb1ExAqOtYA35ksT1twGLmNk0gLAvnALelqpJn3Aoa4ZM/s1600-h/Restaurant+IMG_7612b.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9iTyCHACC7uwTaP4n6k7aXoohxFl_Q-Zlb8UAw4OntGAobQcsdVuxQ3wQqj2QuyypUpbUtMzbDBPoGvbvvQVRW40HrU78yPb1ExAqOtYA35ksT1twGLmNk0gLAvnALelqpJn3Aoa4ZM/s400/Restaurant+IMG_7612b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318325847859604306" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOhXUN9iek7T7sCfNBPy1Viu1RECK8P05lzGTyXwD4s12tzsoDlYF1k2s9_jTpf_hIDt0ZJAPGjNnXqzMegO1lMC1LuZgzDZ8N685GC_50iHnScTMPo4SKuEbd-lR3dnTTuCJwjaXYZl0/s1600-h/Restaurant+IMG_7612.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOhXUN9iek7T7sCfNBPy1Viu1RECK8P05lzGTyXwD4s12tzsoDlYF1k2s9_jTpf_hIDt0ZJAPGjNnXqzMegO1lMC1LuZgzDZ8N685GC_50iHnScTMPo4SKuEbd-lR3dnTTuCJwjaXYZl0/s400/Restaurant+IMG_7612.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317338675960457346" /></a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-10261634998958871442009-03-21T09:13:00.000-07:002009-03-30T13:51:01.398-07:001 New Photo, 2 Re-shot - in Playsets Series (Classroom, Veterinary Hospital 2, Woodsley Log House 2)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvI6D5cV-CV6i9EOo-L29TLK8d_3YEr-IrB2eYykI4NrubjbfnF8YWBINKKQY6cP9jLnyMviovgm83wj4eInJ5mjBw2u_X-R_Myphf7u4VxZcgjVzfKFnUyJFXbE02_8puDN7ar0W5o2I/s1600-h/Classroom+IMG_7588.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvI6D5cV-CV6i9EOo-L29TLK8d_3YEr-IrB2eYykI4NrubjbfnF8YWBINKKQY6cP9jLnyMviovgm83wj4eInJ5mjBw2u_X-R_Myphf7u4VxZcgjVzfKFnUyJFXbE02_8puDN7ar0W5o2I/s400/Classroom+IMG_7588.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315675450629763410" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-INJSrxHusQabtK1wJtGNFDVddiVYskiTNZ8EMB8e0TPxgChB29STqaYwuLxvr8PUvjf3zRAqNUcMpFNg3lCgOwPmhQp5fhfkL-NjsQN3i1t4LEDV32CyvLteEiDmQ_B9VXTvdnolpzE/s1600-h/Veterinary+Hospital+IMG_7576.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-INJSrxHusQabtK1wJtGNFDVddiVYskiTNZ8EMB8e0TPxgChB29STqaYwuLxvr8PUvjf3zRAqNUcMpFNg3lCgOwPmhQp5fhfkL-NjsQN3i1t4LEDV32CyvLteEiDmQ_B9VXTvdnolpzE/s400/Veterinary+Hospital+IMG_7576.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315675347748675826" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdVKl22PKowP3yYvUGQudDSo1zlramNBaN8E1EWlWU6fnGIvoZ8C7UYRkotYS5y4V6um7ncIYWtT_codjFMEt2_YADFl5lXDixh0i9wu4aKjBgD4X6Ziqmz0QHNucrLVzgejZIh4cL_o/s1600-h/Woodsley+House+IMG_7583.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdVKl22PKowP3yYvUGQudDSo1zlramNBaN8E1EWlWU6fnGIvoZ8C7UYRkotYS5y4V6um7ncIYWtT_codjFMEt2_YADFl5lXDixh0i9wu4aKjBgD4X6Ziqmz0QHNucrLVzgejZIh4cL_o/s400/Woodsley+House+IMG_7583.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315675200459117106" /></a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-82625594702831329322009-03-18T18:13:00.001-07:002009-03-30T13:50:06.950-07:003 More Playset Photos (Log Cabin, Veterinary Hospital, and Woodsley Log House)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrtiyet0y7A6Lfzo4a3t5ZVJncml2mNgOcjMhem3gBQwrPLllbh8zPD0XXQ7u1O3JXpvL8G28VGeebmEEIAUnBTtly0ffU4Z-hTgC8K2gnljNDNf0U_3EpP7R3s4h-Roa9t6M43B99zQ/s1600-h/Log+Cabin+IMG_7539.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrtiyet0y7A6Lfzo4a3t5ZVJncml2mNgOcjMhem3gBQwrPLllbh8zPD0XXQ7u1O3JXpvL8G28VGeebmEEIAUnBTtly0ffU4Z-hTgC8K2gnljNDNf0U_3EpP7R3s4h-Roa9t6M43B99zQ/s400/Log+Cabin+IMG_7539.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314700993157887378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiH4K3O2sNuV4iqxF47BTzXQziXOKNJ3PWzcdZIKwo2P4zPqpXyFfheaBe_MG8f36_BF3_GTaTuJSTpVkdQoEUYbL4HTUwmHZuC3xRPBrYbYsWh1hFx5u6mk6hyphenhyphen8e6utsVUusqH4bLgKY/s1600-h/Veterinary+Hospital+IMG_7546.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiH4K3O2sNuV4iqxF47BTzXQziXOKNJ3PWzcdZIKwo2P4zPqpXyFfheaBe_MG8f36_BF3_GTaTuJSTpVkdQoEUYbL4HTUwmHZuC3xRPBrYbYsWh1hFx5u6mk6hyphenhyphen8e6utsVUusqH4bLgKY/s400/Veterinary+Hospital+IMG_7546.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314700903352509826" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaouu4E9Va-kkGZtRIQgv1Qx5WHGYXvm-4ocZcaS95G9lGNyaJQ3KQszQKwKp0tixsQvdl0EYLKUF31KWZG8hIpUQ8K0ik6TodjFJbo1zFY7GroYO00cwFVkwwsRxPW3NlUEUGZBRiUnM/s1600-h/Woodsley+House+IMG_7530.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaouu4E9Va-kkGZtRIQgv1Qx5WHGYXvm-4ocZcaS95G9lGNyaJQ3KQszQKwKp0tixsQvdl0EYLKUF31KWZG8hIpUQ8K0ik6TodjFJbo1zFY7GroYO00cwFVkwwsRxPW3NlUEUGZBRiUnM/s400/Woodsley+House+IMG_7530.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314700814698177266" /></a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-73544144227849668182009-03-14T14:12:00.001-07:002009-03-31T16:23:16.711-07:00More playset photos - Moonbase<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUPuQhHs6hT4scIj_ryUY3AIfUz1_aSDwJIKQ8lU1frE2T-qv2KX5-NUsD15eZcc_1jBfplGFMlc3Qtq4t5N1cK471xQJWjzoSW30lZqY94DsP3MBLEovtK-j6Q_ccHVyiblzC6o16pBw/s1600-h/MoonBase+Playset+IMG_7658+adjusted+small.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUPuQhHs6hT4scIj_ryUY3AIfUz1_aSDwJIKQ8lU1frE2T-qv2KX5-NUsD15eZcc_1jBfplGFMlc3Qtq4t5N1cK471xQJWjzoSW30lZqY94DsP3MBLEovtK-j6Q_ccHVyiblzC6o16pBw/s400/MoonBase+Playset+IMG_7658+adjusted+small.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319496474235063570" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQW9AgnXq2mwT5KmyLm4uFy_Dv1jkh0-YrYJ83CAYpZbo0-Yv-OGrcCG024NqMTW5o2fmtnTknw6pEBIYCqSjhIaSGFUKxP3HUJH1RpNOvtC2Q22Ts3qb9OknvUnM-NdKK5Rc9rzYZPw/s1600-h/Moonbase+Playset+IMG_7277.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQW9AgnXq2mwT5KmyLm4uFy_Dv1jkh0-YrYJ83CAYpZbo0-Yv-OGrcCG024NqMTW5o2fmtnTknw6pEBIYCqSjhIaSGFUKxP3HUJH1RpNOvtC2Q22Ts3qb9OknvUnM-NdKK5Rc9rzYZPw/s400/Moonbase+Playset+IMG_7277.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319496197308958338" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19RuosA16m94CjnUyWqIvslOy4nQAV4kA_iNLbDPKUbcpET7WzQ_BRIGf8fzHTNAhL2z98ahU8iRWj8RfM-juyOGa7ZZz7ZRdmL1czZIsXXnttWaL5rM5cqmanMn0otiSSMkv0AoGynQ/s1600-h/Moonbase+Playset+IMG_7276.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19RuosA16m94CjnUyWqIvslOy4nQAV4kA_iNLbDPKUbcpET7WzQ_BRIGf8fzHTNAhL2z98ahU8iRWj8RfM-juyOGa7ZZz7ZRdmL1czZIsXXnttWaL5rM5cqmanMn0otiSSMkv0AoGynQ/s400/Moonbase+Playset+IMG_7276.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313154590104967970" /></a>Today I'm posting the a new photo that's part of the playsets series I started earlier. I've picked up a number of used playsets over the past week, almost all are from Ebay. This marks a transition away from relying on my own old playsets for the series, as well as a more selective process of choosing my source material (in the past I've relied more on my local Goodwill and dollar store - this is the first time I've spent hours sifting through hundreds of items online). There's lots to be said about this particular Moonbase playset - both in terms of what it is and how I photographed it, but for now I just want to put it out there.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-52504634048443049202009-01-21T17:28:00.001-08:002009-03-30T13:49:26.364-07:00New photos (Firehouse, Barn, & Bedroom)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MMxEkHDu0r1q8Fc90CFBI_DM8sZWaOwjGCSBLVf26lflf1P_VK0qps4IM4A1YgcnUxGKb-JjoCQezRoK_EAHBo_8Rwc4RL7nyr1dxDK9_m7GFisbc8H4U4zFWc6nrCx2okQF2AwO6Z8/s1600-h/Firehouse+IMG_7097.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293927551169478818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MMxEkHDu0r1q8Fc90CFBI_DM8sZWaOwjGCSBLVf26lflf1P_VK0qps4IM4A1YgcnUxGKb-JjoCQezRoK_EAHBo_8Rwc4RL7nyr1dxDK9_m7GFisbc8H4U4zFWc6nrCx2okQF2AwO6Z8/s400/Firehouse+IMG_7097.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-gRe0B-an7ir4Lc2Vy2-d5oNPqBdCdeyVga-aI16yz3RTi-LADZtC4JkC_y9kCy8t3KIyTqapt8GAHFuchJOnRGWiwzJpsRkIRO6c_TIU5q4YjkfdqLQM6UU3GrLMAP_PD2Pj46ZVZk/s1600-h/Barn+IMG_7137.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293927417122720898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-gRe0B-an7ir4Lc2Vy2-d5oNPqBdCdeyVga-aI16yz3RTi-LADZtC4JkC_y9kCy8t3KIyTqapt8GAHFuchJOnRGWiwzJpsRkIRO6c_TIU5q4YjkfdqLQM6UU3GrLMAP_PD2Pj46ZVZk/s400/Barn+IMG_7137.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPGt9QgWAqJy8BUwlSEsp0aCtwzog92I6BSzs9FuVuO-yax_scn2cDKHYO8qTqDAmOWHSBdyxPc0obIFnAqk1mVckstsZQm_uISfti04_NE2OlUslBjUdpupPl-a_DkNwlrM7rQEdaRo/s1600-h/Bedroom+IMG_7156.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293927246794172882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPGt9QgWAqJy8BUwlSEsp0aCtwzog92I6BSzs9FuVuO-yax_scn2cDKHYO8qTqDAmOWHSBdyxPc0obIFnAqk1mVckstsZQm_uISfti04_NE2OlUslBjUdpupPl-a_DkNwlrM7rQEdaRo/s400/Bedroom+IMG_7156.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGk6IcJ_K4-f5tTh6lB9Plxf45e7PVUVga9qeZMXaPH3VUgIDYzixZi2ZLtWh6xjZh_otqPXgPnt2AfsLpB18vKPP-9bk-HMKLLErtu5Dl-uEZsAmKRSp97POge8tqUR0bhMbcL6WrTko/s1600-h/Bedroom+IMG_7156.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9opfjMKXU-ZN0zMixWLG-1lbxNgm5hG2b4jbdhZBGnyYqqlaeh16O26sbEkYgYsvYu3qvcao4ENy6gKkI0fcMS24EQOkVMFTOArIkwRL5CW_q01auDIYMtnzzGcz3Wxl_kcEXTwKgz3s/s1600-h/Firehouse+IMG_7097.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTjsjkiUhHlu5OTVTE0r4WsB0OCY__s06Nhu25n3qw7l4QT0edeS3V7A_z2CKAsTyA48PQHchrXZxCPIY9KOqPhIXtCxTyCTwefxCo9Gfj1tZgV4plOFyy9TZU4pCOrcYeH9_ujFVo7w/s1600-h/Barn+IMG_7137.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9opfjMKXU-ZN0zMixWLG-1lbxNgm5hG2b4jbdhZBGnyYqqlaeh16O26sbEkYgYsvYu3qvcao4ENy6gKkI0fcMS24EQOkVMFTOArIkwRL5CW_q01auDIYMtnzzGcz3Wxl_kcEXTwKgz3s/s1600-h/Firehouse+IMG_7097.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9opfjMKXU-ZN0zMixWLG-1lbxNgm5hG2b4jbdhZBGnyYqqlaeh16O26sbEkYgYsvYu3qvcao4ENy6gKkI0fcMS24EQOkVMFTOArIkwRL5CW_q01auDIYMtnzzGcz3Wxl_kcEXTwKgz3s/s1600-h/Firehouse+IMG_7097.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9opfjMKXU-ZN0zMixWLG-1lbxNgm5hG2b4jbdhZBGnyYqqlaeh16O26sbEkYgYsvYu3qvcao4ENy6gKkI0fcMS24EQOkVMFTOArIkwRL5CW_q01auDIYMtnzzGcz3Wxl_kcEXTwKgz3s/s1600-h/Firehouse+IMG_7097.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGk6IcJ_K4-f5tTh6lB9Plxf45e7PVUVga9qeZMXaPH3VUgIDYzixZi2ZLtWh6xjZh_otqPXgPnt2AfsLpB18vKPP-9bk-HMKLLErtu5Dl-uEZsAmKRSp97POge8tqUR0bhMbcL6WrTko/s1600-h/Bedroom+IMG_7156.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGk6IcJ_K4-f5tTh6lB9Plxf45e7PVUVga9qeZMXaPH3VUgIDYzixZi2ZLtWh6xjZh_otqPXgPnt2AfsLpB18vKPP-9bk-HMKLLErtu5Dl-uEZsAmKRSp97POge8tqUR0bhMbcL6WrTko/s1600-h/Bedroom+IMG_7156.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGk6IcJ_K4-f5tTh6lB9Plxf45e7PVUVga9qeZMXaPH3VUgIDYzixZi2ZLtWh6xjZh_otqPXgPnt2AfsLpB18vKPP-9bk-HMKLLErtu5Dl-uEZsAmKRSp97POge8tqUR0bhMbcL6WrTko/s1600-h/Bedroom+IMG_7156.jpg"></a>I can't say that I'm quite ready to talk about these photos, but I wanted to share my latest tinkerings, even if they are entirely unpolished. That being said, here's the deal:</div><div></div><br /><div>These are photographs of some playsets that my mom recently pulled out of her basement, where she's long stored all of the toys my brothers and I used to play with. I was immediately fascinated with them; it'd been so long since I'd seen them that I could remember how I used to see them, and see them in a totally new way too. At the same time, I'd been thinking about working with models since so many of my series had to do with inhabiting a small space, shifts in scale, etc. Oddly, I tried to find some models at my local thrift store before borrowing these from my mom. </div><div></div><br /><div>So these are early efforts. More work needs to be done. I just broke my last light bulb, so this seems like as good a stopping point as any to throw them up here, and think about them. Oh, and there's one more note - the third one, I believe, is a more recent purchase of my mom's, meaning that I didn't grow up with this one. At least, I don't think I did. </div></div></div></div></div></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-15095549385348896342008-10-07T18:44:00.000-07:002008-10-07T20:16:59.787-07:00Melting - pt. 3<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-T3TMGWrAjXsj59oLSxUMWoHybWILEQxqcWuXVhPnjAr33hoZbdXK-DwMYtMk8cHZ9utWlNjxQTLoXoDt9fXNDjK9E4A79rZfD0IQl8MhiiTJbzrdAHxa_23EnVT-BYeBqhHEqwQB-NI/s1600-h/Melting-Radio-IMG_5933.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254616751110463826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-T3TMGWrAjXsj59oLSxUMWoHybWILEQxqcWuXVhPnjAr33hoZbdXK-DwMYtMk8cHZ9utWlNjxQTLoXoDt9fXNDjK9E4A79rZfD0IQl8MhiiTJbzrdAHxa_23EnVT-BYeBqhHEqwQB-NI/s400/Melting-Radio-IMG_5933.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Melting Radio</span></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-79296806900100759392008-09-22T18:35:00.000-07:002008-09-22T18:52:59.644-07:00Melting - pt. 2<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOMNxjiI3g3KG-bU9Uo2Dr49CmIgEoJKxsZh___lp_mgTdbbgMvT49371KOS7lYEnd-x067k38z1Op5VCpRurQMOQuchEDG0X5fsHZqBY4HoD6TXTfZUCEsocsD6Znnfof9RBiK0q6sk/s1600-h/Melting-Keyboard-IMG_5577.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249024579590195314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOMNxjiI3g3KG-bU9Uo2Dr49CmIgEoJKxsZh___lp_mgTdbbgMvT49371KOS7lYEnd-x067k38z1Op5VCpRurQMOQuchEDG0X5fsHZqBY4HoD6TXTfZUCEsocsD6Znnfof9RBiK0q6sk/s400/Melting-Keyboard-IMG_5577.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Melting Keyboard</span></div></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-68001033645449832422008-09-16T18:27:00.001-07:002008-09-16T18:40:13.208-07:00Melting<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLjDFf7Njc6Jto8kSWcCiHGYE8mYOaF4_o2_RrzRBgY8_OpX99eKx9CExPZkFjp9LfDZUM8OXoKP35SWN7Od3-_VpbM_WY9X2COKwec1c5XK6czZyTTT2suCtV08CPaJka00X-tzQbBIA/s1600-h/Melting-Tape-Cassette-Playe.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246795980375154626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLjDFf7Njc6Jto8kSWcCiHGYE8mYOaF4_o2_RrzRBgY8_OpX99eKx9CExPZkFjp9LfDZUM8OXoKP35SWN7Od3-_VpbM_WY9X2COKwec1c5XK6czZyTTT2suCtV08CPaJka00X-tzQbBIA/s400/Melting-Tape-Cassette-Playe.gif" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Over the past few months I’ve been working on a series of Melting objects. The project has a simple inspiration – my fear of things falling apart, and my somewhat curious desire to see things fall apart. I think that desire comes out of the same interest in films about conflict and death; one wants to look upon their fears from a safe distance. I can’t help but smile when I see these everyday things losing their shape, their surfaces dripping like candle wax, while they spread out into a homogenous puddle. Yet I know I’m scared of this happening to me and my world; there is the constant awareness in the back of my mind that everything is more fragile than I’d like it to be. Every day I work towards building a better and larger life, and there’s still just as much chance that it will fall apart. So I play with everyday things, always on a small scale, and always in my control.<br /><br />‘Melting’ continues to be an interesting organic process of falling apart to impose on these rather static objects. It always seems to produce unexpected results; often disgusting and bodily. It is entropic and irreversible, horrifying and yet beautiful.<br /><br />I’ve been melting calculators, staplers, tape dispensers, and the tape cassette player at the top of this post. I’m somewhat non-committal in terms of the end product. I have remnants of this process that I plan to display as sculptures, but I also have photographs of the events in-process that I intend to display as well. There are aspects of both that I really love.<br /><br />I’ll be posting more photographs of my Melting series in the coming weeks.<br /><br />-Steve</span>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-56689288338758625292008-09-15T16:19:00.000-07:002008-09-15T16:55:02.903-07:00Restart<div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxtKNhZZH5QT2lBtvMeATM6xNdVFBLYQfsCAnG0rPz4XUNAd7hyL0i88swysUzCzjqJcukPTZBoluv-y1xYKK4m0t9PMeLHitAOBSN228XSlQWkQcgUq2rRmsAcpA7baXP5MlY6Nc6OE/s1600-h/Rainy-Day.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246399822225012402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxtKNhZZH5QT2lBtvMeATM6xNdVFBLYQfsCAnG0rPz4XUNAd7hyL0i88swysUzCzjqJcukPTZBoluv-y1xYKK4m0t9PMeLHitAOBSN228XSlQWkQcgUq2rRmsAcpA7baXP5MlY6Nc6OE/s400/Rainy-Day.gif" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">After 14 months of quiet meditation, I’ve decided it’s time to restart my blog. Candidly, I was pursuing it too formally; it’s time to loosen up and let myself enjoy it a little more. Plus, I find myself with both the time to write and the wish to share my thoughts. In the coming days you’ll see a flurry of posts about recent events, art pieces in progress, and stuff I’m into (books, movies, etc.).<br /><br />Fall is suddenly here. Well, it’s not official quite yet – still summer for another week, but it’s getting cold enough that I’m ready to call it fall.<br /><br />So what am I up to? I’ve been in my studio, getting a lot done on my Melting series (I hope to post more about that later). It rained all weekend, so Sarah and I spent the Saturday and Sunday holed up in our apartment, watching movies and TV. I also managed to finish Call of Duty 4 (COD4) on my PS3 and spend a little time ravaging the streets in Grand Theft Auto IV (GTAIV) with my friend Craig. In an effort to prepare for the cooler weather while maintaining my suave style, I did some online shopping as well.<br /><br />Sarah and I did go to a couple of cool places this weekend. For one, we went to Union Pizza up in Evanston , where we met Sarah’s coworkers. Union Pizza is a hip pizza joint, walls stripped bare (literally to concrete and the builders’ spray paint markers) and décor laden with modern furniture. I do believe the pizza was wood-fired. Sarah ordered the Lamb Sausage pizza. I still feel guilty about that. It was really good, but I don’t eat that much meat. I don’t know when I last ate lamb before that. All in all, I recommend the place, but you pay for the designer setting. But you expected that. </span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISdIQ14A-juJZVnzqMfh5yfDL1Q2pM-4JVkoP8_3sABVzoiU-t-1m0OXey8V5eOlj7vfnpJlRJ1aPSmMSPuRAAJeQfrwU0v9m-XFAKKKuH1SnHANPI9yM78KyMwG8a97VZhU2ei9sNgg/s1600-h/TOMORROW.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246400653046223714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISdIQ14A-juJZVnzqMfh5yfDL1Q2pM-4JVkoP8_3sABVzoiU-t-1m0OXey8V5eOlj7vfnpJlRJ1aPSmMSPuRAAJeQfrwU0v9m-XFAKKKuH1SnHANPI9yM78KyMwG8a97VZhU2ei9sNgg/s400/TOMORROW.gif" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">We also went to </span><a href="http://vegaestatespresents.com/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span style="font-size:85%;">Vega Estates</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">, named for the landlords of my friends Julie and Roxane, who host monthly exhibitions in their apartment’s basement and garage. This recent show is called Tomorrow. The show itself was fine, but sparsely attended in the pouring rain. It featured an architectural video by Marco Kane, composed mostly of still shots inside buildings, a few slow pans, overlaid with trance-like music. The video had an eerie, thoughtful quality that I liked, but as a whole it felt too much like other videos I’d seen before. I can’t tell you who exactly made these other two pieces (as I wasn’t planning to write a review), but I appreciated a pair of diamond shaped paintings – framed with what appeared to be old, very ornate recycled frames. The paintings themselves were half abstract, textured paintings – almost flesh-like, and half bare wood panel. The paintings seemed to be about these contrasts, and had a fetishistic quality to them. In addition there was a pair of photographs, or should I say one photograph duplicated? The image was of a small waterfall, hidden in some tropical forest; it was printed in black and white, duplicated as both the positive and negative version of itself. The point where the water hit the ground was almost figural, but what I liked about this piece was the analytical look at a scrap of paradise. It seemed to long for and question longing for the clandestine locale.<br /><br />After a rainy Sunday marathon of movies and TV shows, Sarah and I went for a casual walk around our neighborhood. We stopped at the 7 Eleven on Devon , but didn’t end up buying anything because they require a $10 minimum to use a credit card. Having recently learned that it’s against credit card policy to require a minimum for credit card payment, we </span><a href="http://www.mastercard.com/us/personal/en/contactus/merchantviolations.html" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span style="font-size:85%;">reported</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> the merchant to MasterCard. Now I understand that it’s inconsiderate to spend fifty cents using your credit card, but ten bucks is a high minimum, and the guy behind the counter was pretty rude to Sarah about it. Hopefully next time we stop by, they will have learned their lesson.<br /><br />That’s it for today. Tomorrow I hope to post more.<br /><br />-Steve</span></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-82888354782395076022007-06-06T13:57:00.000-07:002008-12-09T07:27:57.294-08:00Confession Sessions by Carrie MacQuaid<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinxaJxEc4SZ8x-mKOneGG4fahXVyMRIOdUUZzGk5H_SXr8NNL2gj0tDpWScPtJTftjHV9g5u9Ly2cK7GYDdAhN_UgH3bhKvV4KQHlslMpJVsPsTJ9u6IP_4Ufb2YhxWAc5-mI54wgh_U/s1600-h/DSC01043.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073065107414578114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinxaJxEc4SZ8x-mKOneGG4fahXVyMRIOdUUZzGk5H_SXr8NNL2gj0tDpWScPtJTftjHV9g5u9Ly2cK7GYDdAhN_UgH3bhKvV4KQHlslMpJVsPsTJ9u6IP_4Ufb2YhxWAc5-mI54wgh_U/s400/DSC01043.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify">For the past several months Carrie MacQuaid has been wearing printed t-shirts, each listing a different 'guilty pleasure.' The plain grey or white shirts make statements in plain black text like, "I consistently prefer to watch E! news over any real news shows." MacQuaid describes a guilty pleasure as "something that is totally embarrassing but harms no one. It is something you get pleasure out of, but won't want to tell other people for fear of what they might think."</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Why would someone want to make a confession like this in public? What stands to be gained or lost? Perhaps it is the possibility or bridging some gap between self and others, making oneself more human and accessible. Self effacement often does just that. Perhaps there is some assumption of superiority when we first meet people that needs to be undermined in order for friendships to be created. Maybe it's just easier to trust someone who makes fun of themself first. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br />Confessions, especially embarrassing ones, are accompanied by a heightened presumption of honesty. Why would someone lie and say that they love Disney's High School Musical, if they know people are likely to scoff? Why do we expect the truth in confessions?<br /><br />Beyond this, what is it about our own desire to know about other people's guilty pleasures? Is it just voyeurism or something more?</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br />You can follow Carrie MacQuaid's <em>Confession Sessions</em> at:</div><div align="justify"><a href="http://theconfessionsession.blogspot.com/">http://theconfessionsession.blogspot.com/</a></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-54898984323717262912007-06-06T13:41:00.000-07:002008-12-09T07:27:57.474-08:00Cole Pierce: mixed cd's for everyone<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm5fgunFYV7mfGpPIdWgsTfLRUE4nYCh0UDvK7zwKkkkaN_h9SygEjoWvvg5DuW26LBu9s0YftL_moAfFHKJLZq0PxhALH4KQatTH_xjusH1PYgcj1gJcfir94vdPoaeK0VYq1eK9OndE/s1600-h/DSCF0029.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073064905551115186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm5fgunFYV7mfGpPIdWgsTfLRUE4nYCh0UDvK7zwKkkkaN_h9SygEjoWvvg5DuW26LBu9s0YftL_moAfFHKJLZq0PxhALH4KQatTH_xjusH1PYgcj1gJcfir94vdPoaeK0VYq1eK9OndE/s400/DSCF0029.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><br /><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /><br /></div><div align="justify">Cole Pierce has been giving away mixed cd's since 2004. He collects music, burns a mix, decorates a case, and leaves small stacks in public. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br>There's something about creating a mix cd that is intensely personal, even romantic. It's the kind of thing a person usually does for a close friend, family member, or significant other. That someone would do this on a public scale is curious. In the moment when the mixed album is given away, something personal is shared. Taste is perhaps one of the most intimate ways to identify someone and giving someone a collection like this is a way of revealing that hidden identity. A person might be attracted to the idea of a free cd, but the opportunity to take home a piece of a stranger's life may be more compelling. Yet this is also a very anonymous gift. There is no special thread that pre-exists before the cd is given, or taken. It's still a curiousity as to whether the free mixed cd creates this bond or only further emphasizes its absence.</div><br />You can learn more about Cole Pierce, and his work on his website and blog:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.colepierce.com">www.colepierce.com</a><br /><a href="http://firehydrantsarescary.blogspot.com/">http://firehydrantsarescary.blogspot.com/</a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-82310526907554829112007-06-06T13:00:00.000-07:002008-12-09T07:27:58.327-08:00Julie Rudder: artist as host<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreSdmeIfS4djdPR0x7VfZ-sVuoguyODdXVRFWkMIeCtdNQC-69hnjMiz2TFg2EwG2XLclyMZT2olsvNSyo0ASE-86SbFfIxvsAJlgqQHJ_M_rQqMEEURJe0hoic4usBB_irEQCyY_zlU/s1600-h/News_KRCU_mic_2006_250.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073064579133600674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreSdmeIfS4djdPR0x7VfZ-sVuoguyODdXVRFWkMIeCtdNQC-69hnjMiz2TFg2EwG2XLclyMZT2olsvNSyo0ASE-86SbFfIxvsAJlgqQHJ_M_rQqMEEURJe0hoic4usBB_irEQCyY_zlU/s400/News_KRCU_mic_2006_250.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Julie Rudder is a fellow artist and (in the very near future) graduate of Northwestern. Julie has always been interested in a particular relationship between artist and viewer. Recently that relationship took the form of artist as host- <em>radio</em> host. Julie entered the Public Radio Talent Quest. You can listen to her entry using this link:</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.publicradioquest.com/audio/user/9028">http://www.publicradioquest.com/audio/user/9028</a></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Julie has taken on the role of host before, often creating situations that frame social interaction. There's something very interesting about the idea of an artist as a host, even more so as a radio host. Hosts are often the ones in control of a given situation. They say where the party will be, when begins and ends, and who gets invited. The host is the center of the party, but somehow just off stage as well. Hosts are expected to be gracious and a good host is endlessly giving, bending over backwards for guests. The host's connection to power can also be seen when Julie takes on the role of a curator in projects like her upcoming show, <em>The Addition</em>, in which Julie will be presenting videos created by other artists in her garage. But what is it about the radio that's so appealing to her? Perhaps it is the way in which talk itself is the main topic. Yet somehow, when one listens to talk radio, the gentle, clear words offer a window into the soul. The radio doesn't allow the audience to be confused by images. Rather, audio is pumped out in stereo, as if to be as close as possible to an internal monologue. </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br>You can read about Julie Rudder's work on her blog:</div><div align="justify"><a href="http://thebarbeque.blogspot.com/">http://thebarbeque.blogspot.com/</a></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-19124412566822639062007-05-29T12:39:00.000-07:002008-12-09T07:27:58.886-08:00[placed]<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAF5aQvPYJRndR0_fItFImic4kXpVghyeYeeYB8mkT-LuqTgAekM0lQ_KmLmpswEVPX0JVe6bMg7mMv0xqgyRkMr7xn0p1GH-8B-kBWNWGizJa3oAI8cH1c0-lPaid6Bo7vINjj2qTjk/s1600-h/Photo_053107_001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070838018448899746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAF5aQvPYJRndR0_fItFImic4kXpVghyeYeeYB8mkT-LuqTgAekM0lQ_KmLmpswEVPX0JVe6bMg7mMv0xqgyRkMr7xn0p1GH-8B-kBWNWGizJa3oAI8cH1c0-lPaid6Bo7vINjj2qTjk/s400/Photo_053107_001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>[placed] quarter on a train seat</em><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YespueeaZGz9v2BXiqXfayqVUBcEHgx4w6BpFTlIOsNZwyvAZY5vr5z9VTi6sV0m3Lccss4o-1TQvOzZa7zwhrMTnm5F_AgIpKzmtHyV66MDMg1bdQFKjk8k_fz6STRFY070-htS8Pk/s1600-h/Photo_053107_005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070838301916741298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YespueeaZGz9v2BXiqXfayqVUBcEHgx4w6BpFTlIOsNZwyvAZY5vr5z9VTi6sV0m3Lccss4o-1TQvOzZa7zwhrMTnm5F_AgIpKzmtHyV66MDMg1bdQFKjk8k_fz6STRFY070-htS8Pk/s400/Photo_053107_005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>[placed] permanent marker at a bus </em><em>stop </em><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSUrApTADSWazioavfFrRT5HOAAwwa0dcnOctWavB_wfIc-YdBO2OjfevdXZWk11w6qYnxii2eNSFGjqCWmFHjwh6UIcZ-qLkZUbbCcPM50cc1DHDzTpY67CHeJ3Lge_MmYI-hAGwiD0/s1600-h/0529072045a+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070843052150570706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSUrApTADSWazioavfFrRT5HOAAwwa0dcnOctWavB_wfIc-YdBO2OjfevdXZWk11w6qYnxii2eNSFGjqCWmFHjwh6UIcZ-qLkZUbbCcPM50cc1DHDzTpY67CHeJ3Lge_MmYI-hAGwiD0/s400/0529072045a+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgHDaSC7A53lxziNUrCAOlbC8MgYrmI-yjocntI49yOBwClOqw7-eSjPnjgV4gu18NRDFUT3HFq_k0SOtol2SloMt3Ld9PHsFhYIwFi99hyphenhyphenUnj-ucwdHSVGEGIyS7hWwA_TV4GHxhhocc/s1600-h/0529072045a.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>[placed] tennis ball on a park bench</em><br /><br /><em></em><br /><br /><em>Placed</em> is an ongoing project I conceptualized as a series of open ended gifts, left anonymously in public spaces. I've been leaving quarters on the train, permanent markers at bus stops, and tennis balls in the park. These are everyday objects left where they are likely to be found and their placement is documented casually, if at all. I've selected objects that would be enticing to most people. Not everyone stops to pick up a nickel or a dime, but few people will ignore a quarter. The objects can be used in a number of ways. In a sense, the quarter is the most open ended, but even a tennis ball or a permanent marker could be used with great variety. The objects are all valuable enough that they're worth picking up, perhaps even just a little bit exciting to find.<br /><br /><em>Placed</em> is a project very much about not knowing. I enjoy wondering what happens after I've left each thing. I think about whether anyone will be drawn to pick an object up, but then also about how it might feel to find these things and what might become of them. I imagine someone feeling lucky when they find one of these, not in any profound way but in a slight, almost immeasurably small way. Spare change might just go in a pocket, lost in a sea of more change, but it might be consciously saved or spent. A tennis ball might be found by someone like a kid or a dogwalker and played with. A permanent marker might be used for graffiti or a handwritten note. These are just a few possibilities amongst a great many.<br /><br />Placed began with the title "minute gestures." It consisted as the following text:<br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">minute gestures</span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">brief, anonymous interventions</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">9 quarters were left on 9 seats on the train</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">4 haiku's were written in 4 piles of melting snow</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">3 tennis balls were placed on 3 park benches</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">5 drawings were made on the beach</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">2 permanent markers were left at 2 bus stops</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffccff;">1 handwritten letter was slipped into a then unpurchased newspaper</span><br /><br /><br /><br />Originally I had no intention of documenting this project. I saw it as existing mostly based on a promise. As an ongoing list, one would read phrases like "9 quarters were left on 9 seats on the train" and the rest would be left to the imagination. It was also designed as a machine to create ideas. I've been experimenting with photo documentation as a way to give just a little bit of illustration, to stregthen the bridge towards thinking about all the possibilities the project suggests. I've been avoiding polished documents, instead favoring the camera built into my cell phone, which is less obtrusive and keeps the project more spontaneous. I believe that the photographs themselves may create more unexpected possibilities as the project continues to unfold.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-38554845164182025632007-05-25T14:46:00.000-07:002008-12-09T07:27:59.287-08:00Sharon Hayes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixe7LDJIeOU0gGBlV1zUjBiQn-qINfhQV23sXDVtOWW31beNyRiIvLTSpTTiMe9tpm0FgEry7_si1dHu5ktEwq_szUej1buyPI7WJ9x61y2a-QqQLZ72hlt1Li8kHeov6Q49eTtOeikSo/s1600-h/videostill.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068618216141569618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixe7LDJIeOU0gGBlV1zUjBiQn-qINfhQV23sXDVtOWW31beNyRiIvLTSpTTiMe9tpm0FgEry7_si1dHu5ktEwq_szUej1buyPI7WJ9x61y2a-QqQLZ72hlt1Li8kHeov6Q49eTtOeikSo/s400/videostill.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><em><span style="color:#ccccff;">Sharon Hayes, seen above in her piece, "The Interpreter Project" (four-channel video installation, 2001), is a performance artist who came to Northwestern as a visiting artist this past week.</span></em> </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Sharon Hayes is perhaps best known for a series of projects in which she becomes a sort of intermediary, a human conduit through which information is passed. In the project pictured above, she is listening to a recorded tour of the estate of Eleanor Roosevelt. As each word funnels into her she tries to restate the tour aloud. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Hayes' insertion of herself between source and viewer is reminiscent of a project by Dennis Oppenheim. In Oppenheim's conceptual art project, he asked his son to draw on his back while he mimmicked the movement through feel, creating a new drawing on a piece of paper in front of him. Oppenheim's drawing on paper is one generation removed and therefore a somewhat distorted version of the image marked on his back.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Viewers of Sharon Hayes' don't have access to her source material, which is pumped into her ears alone. Yet the distortion is apparent. She stammers and uses odd inflections. Her words are at times awkwardly paced, playing catch-up to her ears. However, some image of the source is projected through. One continues to stare back at Hayes, standing flatly in front of bland houses and imagine a tour guide, walking adeptly through the former home of Eleanor Roosevelt. There's a chair here and a painting there, each with some detailed narrative. This is a historical voice and in moments there is a pronounced consciousness that the tour guide herself is not unlike Hayes; a relay between sources.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-80565812226133458072007-05-14T16:55:00.001-07:002008-12-09T07:27:59.297-08:00It's All About Exchange<div align="justify">a review of Luis Maldonado’s exhibit, <strong><em>It's All About Things: Barter Days<br /><br /></em></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><em></em></strong></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGciVbXQiwWe5SruUJ8wVIriu42kUK1PixzeNlhI1RHGCugKSE-A5i0ujnqudWufORS1XuEbIlf65YjsfSJx1m_sgQEGyI83kWpvKbAQX-H1q8jJUQWPpQHAOlv5sRwKjsYM6wpsKEkcc/s1600-h/things.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065207148820119090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGciVbXQiwWe5SruUJ8wVIriu42kUK1PixzeNlhI1RHGCugKSE-A5i0ujnqudWufORS1XuEbIlf65YjsfSJx1m_sgQEGyI83kWpvKbAQX-H1q8jJUQWPpQHAOlv5sRwKjsYM6wpsKEkcc/s400/things.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Opening the door to Luis Madonado’s exhibit, <em>It’s All About Things</em>, reveals a sort of waiting room. There’s a reception desk, a television, and several chairs. But the door to the exhibit is made out of a plastic tarp stretched around a frame, the reception desk is made of plywood, and there’s no receptionist; Luis Maldonado is there himself.<br /><br />Maldonado introduces himself to visitors and happily provides a guided tour of his own exhibition. One is a welcome guest here in a space lined from floor to ceiling with colorful paint, furniture, and objects. In the main room paintings are hung salon-style, with more collectible objects interspersed. There are several separate rooms, including a private room for people to view the paintings, an entertainment room complete with a television and videogames, and a room Maldonado where shows off his collection of objects that he has received from viewers.<br /><br />At the heart of Maldonado’s exhibition is the exchange he has with viewers. Everyone is welcome to barter for one of his paintings. One can trade another artwork, an object, even a performance in order to take home one of his handmade creations. Amongst many things, Maldonado has received a handmade scarf, a chemistry paper, and house keys. Eventually, he’ll put all of these objects, as well as the stories that go along with them, on display as part of a separate exhibit.<br /><br />The title of the show encourages people to engage in trades with Maldonado, but it might be deceiving; he seems most excited about the narrative that accompanies the objects. A scarf is interesting not because of it’s exquisite beauty, but instead because of how it was made, by whom, and the tale of the person who eventually brought it to <em>It’s All About Things</em>. The same goes for a plain metal house key, given to Maldonado with only the rough location of the home it will open. Here the narrative is created on the spot, and has the potential to go on; Maldonado isn’t certain he’ll try to track down the house and waltz in, but he’s thinking about it.<br /><br />Maldonado imbues each of his own paintings with his personal stories, ideas, and visual language. However, these cute, energetic objects function almost more like candy that lures people into exchanging something of their own. Even so, it is rare for many gallery goers to expect to take any object from an exhibition home. There’s an almost overwhelming impulse to riffle through pockets, run home and return with something to give, or even dance on the spot. There are plenty of good stories for people to take back with their new possessions, like “I sang a song for this painting.”<br /><br />In a small room where paintings are set aside for purchase, it becomes clear how much value Maldonado attaches to interaction with viewers. Even the smallest painting is priced at several hundred dollars.<br /><br />Right now, Maldonado has created an atmosphere where exchange with viewers can flourish, manifesting itself in surprising ways. His project is like a living, breathing organism. Its growth depends a lot on the people who visit and feed it.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><em><div align="justify"><br /><br />Luis Maldinado's "It's All About Things" was on display at Three Walls Gallery in Chicago, in February and March of 2007</em></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-82273711215426405812007-05-14T16:54:00.002-07:002008-12-09T07:27:59.527-08:00An Open Space: Mess Hall<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVav0TxIfQ0MPMYU5xlGS71NLIJp6NPWTd2PyzkAkYk4fwHlsu7JTFwaKi-JrAbY_X85gNvXUO-TkuWu3j1XTx3E1QPDIRrXo527jBNWIy0vDqg-05HLkCAHo-YYJwJYX6LoFZgkj_fs/s1600-h/IMG_0573.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065216232675950146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVav0TxIfQ0MPMYU5xlGS71NLIJp6NPWTd2PyzkAkYk4fwHlsu7JTFwaKi-JrAbY_X85gNvXUO-TkuWu3j1XTx3E1QPDIRrXo527jBNWIy0vDqg-05HLkCAHo-YYJwJYX6LoFZgkj_fs/s400/IMG_0573.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><em><span style="color:#ccffff;">Mess Hall is self-described as</span> “an experimental cultural center. It is a place where visual art, radical politics, creative urban planning, applied ecological design and other things intersect and inform each other. [Mess Hall] hosts exhibitions, discussions, film screenings, ‘brunchlucks’ (brunch + potluck), workshops, concerts, campaigns, meetings (both closed and open) and more”</em> (<a href="http://www.messhall.org">www.messhall.org</a>) </div><div align="justify"><br /> </div><div align="justify">I've visited Mess Hall a number of times, but in response to my studies of relational aesthetics, and as my time as a graduate student wraps up, it seemed like a good opportunity to look at it with fresh eyes.</div><div align="justify"><br />Walking down Glenwood Avenue, I can see a rack of clothes on the sidewalk. For a moment it's like seeing a thrift store which has spilled its contents onto the street. The metal rack is full of used shirts and pants, neatly hung. A few people are sorting through them, clearly deciding if they're interested in anything. Of course, they aren’t exactly ‘shopping.’ In the corner of Mess Hall’s large glass storefront window there's a sign. Haphazardly placed and written with black permanent marker on a scrap of brown cardboard, the sign reads: “Yep, it’s all FREE!”<br /><br />Inside there's a loose cluster of people, sitting down and talking. For a second I think maybe I’ll interrupt if I just walk inside and join them. But I know better. I quietly take a seat just inside the door.<br /><br />The room itself is a plain box. The walls are cheerfully painted. The floors are bare. The kitchen is in plain sight, as no partition divides the space. There’s a bulletin board near the entrance, as well as a rack of literature. Across the room I can see a makeshift set of shelves, constructed out of old coolers, the type that one might take to a soccer game or the beach, each screwed to the wall. The people are all sitting on plastic folding <em>Ikea</em> chairs. These are the only things that appear to have been purchased new for Mess Hall, but they still fit in. There is no dust in Mess Hall, but it isn’t an immaculately clean space either. Everything has the feeling of impermanence, as if all these things are meant to be shuffled around the space.<br /><br />I’ve just missed a performance, the remnants of which are draped across the middle of the room. There are two tables, one turned on its side, and several chairs, all literally connected by interwoven threads. Balls of yarn wrap around furniture legs and create a sort of web.<br /><br />An artist is sitting in front of the group, taking questions. She’s talking about her performance, her history in New York, how she feels about Chicago, current politics, and feminist history. It’s a dialogue between her and the audience that at first feels just like Northwestern’s own visiting artist lectures (at least the Q&A session) that I'm so familiar with. But there’s no academic pressure. Everyone is laid back. It is Sunday afternoon. People come and go throughout. At one point a woman stops in to donate clothes for the ‘free’ pile out front. Eventually the focused discussion disintegrates.<br /><br />I’ve been recognized, and find myself in a discussion with Sara Black, a U of C grad who taught beginning sculpture at NU last fall. Sara is a performance artist, with a practice of her own, but she also works with a group called <em>Material Exchange</em>. She tells me about how welcoming and receptive Chicago is for collaborative, experimental projects like <em>Material Exchange</em>. <em>Material Exchange</em> is responsible for a variety of service based projects in which, “waste materials such as exhibition or theatre by-products” are remade by designers or design students into working objects, which are then donated to charitable organizations. She tells me that they have several events slated for the fall, and how they receive numerous invitations throughout the city. </div><div align="justify"><br />On my way out, I run into Salem, who is a founder and organizer at Mess Hall, but also works with the collaborative artist group, <em>Temporary Services</em> (who also visited NU earlier this year). Mess Hall is essentially a project founded by <em>Temporary Services</em>. In their best known project, <em>Temporary Services</em> inserted 150 books created by artists or others into the Harold Washington Library Center here in Chicago. According to wikipedia, “The critical place of the public, generally dismissed in modernist and post-modernist art, is central to [the work of <em>Temporary Services</em>] which aims at creating projects that undermine conventional politics of art.”<br /><br />Salem tells me about next weeks upcoming event at Mess Hall. The online billing is as follows:<br /><br /><span style="color:#ccffff;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Saturday, May 19, 200712:00p-6:00p 60 wrd/min art critic: BRIEF, SERIOUS REVIEWS GUARANTEED TO ALL ARTISTS ON A FIRST-COME, FIRST-SERVED BASIS. (with Lori Waxman & Ron Song)The short review is at once a challenge, an insult, a record, and a piece of advertising. Its purpose is debatable and arguably quite different for the various parties involved: the writer gets a tear sheet, a couple of bucks, and some editorial gratification; the reader, in the best case scenario, gets a succinct, opinionated description of a body of work they probably did not see in person; and the artist gets published recognition and an entry for their bibliography. But think, for a moment, of the artist who has never been reviewed. Do you need a review to get a show? You need a show to get a review.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ccffff;">Installed in the storefront of Mess Hall, an experimental culture center in Rogers Park, Chicago, critic Lori Waxman and receptionist Ron Song will receive artists in need of reviews between the hours of noon and six p.m. on Saturday, May 19, and Sunday, May 20. Reviews will be scheduled and written in twenty minute increments between those hours only. Reviews will be signed, published, and ready for pick-up within the time frame of the performance.<br /></span><span style="color:#66ff99;"><br /></span>Does this sound like fun? It does to me. </div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">References & additional reading:<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.messhall.org/"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.messhall.org/</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.messhall.org/itf_mh_flier.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.messhall.org/itf_mh_flier.html</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />Wang, Dan S. Mess Hall: What it is (after the first year)<br /></span><a href="http://www.messhall.org/wimh.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.messhall.org/wimh.html</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />Wang, Dan S. Practice in critical times: a conversation with Gregory Sholette, Stephanie Smith, Temporary Services, and Jacqueline Terrassa. Art Journal. Summer, 2003.<br /><br />Anya Liftig’s “Woven Room”<br /></span><a href="http://angusgalloway.com/page17.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://angusgalloway.com/page17.html</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.material-exchange.org/index.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.material-exchange.org/index.html</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.temporaryservices.org/"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.temporaryservices.org/</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />Hart, Hugh. Artists Build on a Canvas of Dirt, Weeds. Los Angeles Times. April 23, 2005<br /><br /></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temporary_Services"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temporary_Services</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Collo-Julin"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Collo-Julin</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />Waxman, Michael. Eye Exam: Group Dynamics. New City Chicago. </span><a href="http://www.newcitychicago.com/chicago/2525.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.newcitychicago.com/chicago/2525.html</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br />Waxman, Lori. 60 WRD/min Art Critic. The Believer. February, 2007.<br /></span><a href="http://www.believermag.com/issues/200702/?read=article_waxman"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.believermag.com/issues/200702/?read=article_waxman</span></a></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1751786906500608411.post-14691803920147106502007-05-14T16:54:00.001-07:002007-05-25T14:40:43.425-07:00WelcomeI've started this blog as a space for discussion, reviews, and announcements. The main topic will most often be art and visual culture at large, but many issues will likely spill out from there. Of course, this is a flexible space and likely to change as it grows.<br /><br />If you'd like to learn more about me, there's additional information on my website:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stephennyktas.com">www.stephennyktas.com</a><br /><br />Thank you,<br />SteveStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06661977859643845412noreply@blogger.com0