Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Mundane / Utilitarian Object, Ex. Week One - Teapot


Individual –entails – Environment – which emerges from – capacities – which form boundaries and networks – that give rise to the individual

1.        Mundane or utilitarian object:  The inherited world in a teapot.

 

There were three different applications or perspectives from this story. I looked at the diagram as it related to 1.  The mother of the boy who was paraplegic , 2.  My mother and the other neighborhood women who formed network to help the boy’s mother, and 3. The boy himself.

 
With the first mother (Helen), we see a woman who starts out as very much the same as the rest of the mothers or women of that time, (1960s) living in our neighborhood.  She didn’t work outside the home, she didn’t drive, she had three children and was married.  The focus of her day to day life, therefore, arises mostly from her environment, and again, much the same as the other women around her.  She:  bakes, cooks and keeps the house clean; she watches soap operas during the day while her kids are at school, to pass the time; she visits with the other neighborhood women almost daily.  She comes and goes during the day with any child who is not yet in school, there’s no daycare or need for that, no pre-school programs.  All of the preschool kids play together and pass their outgrown belongings around to one another.   She has no siblings, parents or inlaws living close by.  She depends entirely on a day to day basis, on the other women in the neighborhood for her support and validation.

 
Helen’s capacity to deal with having this tragic event occur within her family appears to be good.  We don’t know for sure, but Helen doesn’t take up drinking, her marriage is stable, she continues to keep a nice home, he other children do well and are well adjusted at school.  We don’t know for sure, what Helen draws on from her own personal strength in mothering her paraplegic son, I don’t know if she went to church, she wasn’t outwardly religious.  Her capacities, it seems would have come from the natural instincts of a mother who loves her firstborn more than life itself, the emotional support of her husband and children.   Helen also seemed to have a very good intellect and a strong disposition as far as remaining committed to living the lifestyle that she has created for herself with her family. 

 

The boundaries, for Helen, arise in that we cannot imagine, what went on in her mind psychologically speaking through this.  We can say, she seemed to handle it ok or as well as could be expected, but we don’t know what happened in private moments, we can’t imagine at all what this would be like for another mother unless our own child was similarly injured.  So as much as we can feel sorry for her, or try to understand her, or support her, we can never approach the psychological boundary of having to cope in that scenario. 

 
The network for Helen,  would consist of her husband, doctors and caregivers, friends and neighbors, her church perhaps.
 
My mother, Marie, is just the same as Helen, although her marriage is not as good and her husband is not the supportive, generous loving type.  He is away a lot camping and hunting, yells at her when he is home, is tight with money, abusive, yells at the kids a lot.

Marie, however was brought up on a farm in N. Maine by parents who nurture, support, cherish, love and adore their children.  She learns to be patient, accepting and compassionate with all people, she is a wonderfully loving and caring mother.  All the neighborhood children want to visit with us the most, they eat with us, stay overnight, camp with us, play outside with us until all hours of the night. 
 
Marie is very much valued by the other women, she is regarded an expert housekeeper, fine baker, good mother with excellent moral character and judgment.  She is often sought out for advice by the other women on how to best raise children, how to take care of a baby, how to fix something in the house, how to run a household, how to save money, how to buy, where to buy, etc. etc. 

She is the first one of all the women consulted whenever family emergencies or tragedy strikes in the neighborhood.  These are all qualities that she has gained as a result of being raised by loving parents but being in a marriage and family where money is tight but the desire to be self-sufficient is strong.

 
When our neighbor’s husband was killed in an airplane accident doing his forest ranger duties, she was asked by the wife to go to the school, get the children and to tell them that their father had died in an accident, and she did it as asked!  That’s how much these women respected my mother’s friendship and her ability to nurture children.  She often told me it was one of the hardest things in her life she ever had to do.   I can’t even begin to express what she said it was like having to do that, but she told me many times about the youngest little girl becoming hysterical and climbing right up her leg and waist, right up on top of my mother, like she was trying to put a fire out of her own little body.  I don’t know how my mother ever did it, but she did it. 

 Her capacity to show generosity, concern, support and devotion to Helen was great.  Her ability to sympathize was intense and whenever and in whatever way she could help Helen, she did.  Her capacity to relate to the boy, Joey, was greater than anyone I can think of in the same situation.  A nurse couldn’t have been better.  Joey loved my mother and would always ask for her to come and stay with him and she would.  I think of all the mothers in the neighborhood, my mother probably stayed the most with him. 

 
My mother’s boundaries and networks  -  I know she hid the abusive behaviors of my father from her girlfriends, she was very embarrassed by them.  Because of this boundary, I remember her as frequently depressed,  without energy or enthusiasm, or busying herself in such a way as to forget her troubles.  The boundary kept her isolated, emotionally, in dealing with her depression, pain, disappointment in her life and marriage.  My mother died of breast cancer ini 2007, but when I think back on her and the last ten years of her life, I do believe it was that boundary and her depression that killed her in the end.

 
My mother’s network were her siblings, her parents, us kids in particular, her oldest daughter.

 Joey, was a typical young man coming of age in the sixties.  He was extremely well liked and a very nice looking, popular boy.  He was the first one in the neighborhood to get a motorcycle.  All the girls wanted to by Joey’s girlfriend.  My sister was a beauty, she liked Joey a lot, I think they might have had couple of dates, but the kids at that time mostly hung out in groups. 

 Joey was raised by Helen and Doug, the eldest of three, in an ordered household with parents who were supportive, understanding, hardworking and accepting.  He became a quadriplegic as a result of being in an accident on the motorcycle.  For Joey, his personal environment had two aspects, the home life environment, and the environment of being locked into a quadriplegic’s body.  Finally there’s the environment of the second within the first. 

 I didn’t know Joey well enough, or his parents to ask such a personal question as to how they think he coped, but I do remember my mother saying he always had a positive attitude or that he was at least happy when she was there.  He joked with her, watched his favorite tv shows with her, enjoyed having his friends drop by occasionally to visit, etc.   It would appear that he had a good capacity to deal with his injuries, and those capacities would have come from his upbringing, I would imagine.   On the other hand, Joey’s personal and physical boundaries may have kept him from every expressing deep regrets and depressive behaviors or reactions.  It wasn’t like he could get up, walk out, get in a car, and drive himself over a cliff.  In the end, Joey drowned, they said his wheel chair malfunctioned, but it can’t be proven that it was a malfunction vs. suicide, so I don’t know. 

 
Joey’s networks after the accident would have been his parents, his parent’s friends including my mother, his own friends, doctors and hospitals and perhaps some service type people.  There weren’t systems in place then like there is now, no respite services or day camps for the disabled, no occupational rehab programs, no transportaton services or other kinds of even volunteer services like we have today.  I think what he received in the way of physical therapy would have been limited as well.   


 

 

My artistic / creative piece for worldmaking Ex. 1


Mary Mailler’s Object of Art and the Second Diagram.

 
My Artwork, the World and a Room with a View
Last summer, I came to visit family and vacation in Maine, and once I got here, I decided I couldn’t go back to Tulsa to live with my husband.  I sent our youngest son back to him so that he could continue in his school there where he receives special services for autistic children.  I remained here with my oldest son, Max, who is sixteen, and attending a private high-school for gifted students. 

One of the main reasons why I couldn’t go back was because of the physical landscape there vs. the landscape here.  As an artist, I felt completely depleted and creatively empty living and trying to work in Tulsa.  Having grown up here, with the landscapes of New England so engraved in the fabric of my artistic being, I could not, no matter how hard I tried, adjust to being in Tulsa.  The difference between the two places in every way shape and form can’t even be described.  Everything from politics, to religion, to the landscape is so different, you might as well go to another planet.  The decision I made to stay was not something my husband would put up with so we divorced, quickly.  We still support each other and no one’s angry at anyone else, so that helps, but  the  divorce has been very difficult for my family to accept.  They’re all looking for reasons to blame me or be angry with me, yet no one has any idea of why my husband and I split.  My entire family is judging me and it has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through to discover that the people I love don’t love me enough not to judge me.

My capacity to cope with the stresses of running and financially supporting a household, supporting two children who are living in opposite ends of the country, one with autism, and the other gifted, are good enough I guess.  Sometimes though, I get very depressed, mostly because I hate my day job.  The depression and the fear that I have of having messed everything up in my life, for no really good reason except I just wasn’t that happy, is always present to some degree.  But so is the ever present, ever pressing need to create.   It rules over everything in my life, it sometimes feels as though I have no will and no ability to steer, turn around or go home.

 I tried fighting it and for a long long time I believed there was something very wrong with me because I couldn’t fit in with what I thought and what people told me I was supposed to do.  Eventually I figure out though that If I continued to try to fight it, I’d live a lie and I have less capacity to live a lie than I do to live the truth.  For these reasons, I don’t let the way my siblings are treating me since my divorce, the way my father is blaming me, etc. get to me, because they just don’t understand how my brain is different than theirs.  Being born a creative is much like being born gay or straight, black or white.  It’s not something you choose for yourself, it chooses you.  If you don’t live your truth, you’re never happy in the lie, and my truth is not my sister’s truth, or my ex’s, or my dad’s truth, my husband’s or my kid’s. It’s mine! 

 

Anyway, the toll this has all taken on me does not literally figure into my painting, but it directs and constrains me in psychological and financial ways.  My piece for this assignment is a small oil painting of a line of lilac bushes that are just outside the windows of my porch studio.  I don’t have an outdoor easel yet because I haven’t had the money to buy one or the mental energy to go outside and to try painting in the abstract sort of way that I think I’d like to.    Just as the boundaries of my porch have limited my subject matter and style of painting, so did family life in Tulsa keep me constrained in my approach and methodologies towards my work .  That’s very sad to say, and I feel down sometimes about splitting up my family.  But then, I think, well plenty of men have said it in the past, so why not a woman?   So far, I have about ten oil paintings of a lilac bush in the backyard.  Creativity, oil painting, trying new things, it’s all expensive in more ways than one.  I’m trying to figure out if I’m ready to make a bigger investment.  I grow weary of lilac trees.  I painted the geranium across the street once.  Geraniums are my favorite.  That was exciting.

My networks are pretty small and getting smaller all the time.  My husband still supports me and we talk all the time.  He gives me a lot of advice on media and career management for my artwork and he helps me in a lot of other ways as well.  Other than that, I have the wait staff at Pat’s Pizza who just about knows me by name, by now.   My older son is ever engaged with me in an infinite struggle of intellectual challenge and debate over whether or not LSD was instrumental in enabling Charles Manson to control his pseudo family.  These discussions and debates drain me to the point that I sometimes think I might as well have stayed in Tulsa, but he helps a little by staying out of trouble and doing well enough in school.  I also have the network and support of my fellow artists up here, the Bangor Art Society, fellow etsy artists and entrepreneurs, and of course my classmates and teachers.  Actually, I guess that’s a pretty big network.  Funny how networks can seem so small when the emotional need is great.

Diagram/list of ideas connected to a print



Monday, September 17, 2012







These images are diagrams some students of mine made as they thought about their toothbrushes. It became clear that a plastic toothbrush exists in conjunction with many other supports in our culture. Such a mundane object could not have existed in this form at a time when roads, transportation, factories and dental hygiene were not so efficient. A toothbrush is a simple object, but it is part of a very sophisticated system.
About 25 students thought about toothbrushes and items appearing in the toothbrush world matrix ranged from nuclear war, war with China, zombies, weightless toothbrushing in space, and loneliness if teeth are not acceptably clean.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Ben's Diagrams 09/12/12


For my mundane object I chose the September issue of Vogue, for an object I made, I chose an isolation chamber

lady-gaga-vogue-sept-2012.jpg