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"Beware of pierced lip men" she said
as she jumped in the fire.
"they buy you socks, and pick your locks,
and fuck you til you're tired."

first dream in days

The city was all The Crow like, only it was summer, dry, and daytime. But it was worn down and scary. Like a Detroit western. It was like the dust bowl was happening.
I was running across a 4 lane road to get to my house.
My house was a dusty apartment with Elissa's Aunt's mother in law. (I dont know how I came to know this.)
But I would help take care of her, and her cat. She had lung cancer, and was wheezing and coughing the whole time. I would only catch glimpses of her dark room from the decrepit hallway. I went in there to give her a hug and a kiss.
The set up of this end of town in my dream was like Hamtramck. Only there were big rotten wooden fences and gates separating the yards.
Charlie was my neighbor, and one day we went on the roof to smoke a bowl.
While we were up there, we lit the barbeque, and we saw something in the sky.
It got bigger and bigger.
It was a very fat cat on a tricycle with a mini helicopter propellor. We started laughing really hard.
Then we heard a knock at the door. We ignored it. And then it was simultaneous knocks at EVERY outer door of the house. We peered off of the roof and say that there was a creepy halogram of a newspaper boy at EVERY door up and down the block. His hallogram appears in every front and back door, peering into the house. But you can tell he's a halogram! "Hello? Is anybody home?" he cries in his fake recording.
His eyes send out scanner waves that cover the whole room.
At this point we realize that every house is getting sized up.
There's going to be some sort of invasion.
The halograms disapear and the sky darkens.
We jump in horseless carriage(It was. It was a horse carriage with no horses) with Flava Flav and Scott Iceberg. Scott says he knows where we need to go. He takes the reins and pulls us down an alley. All the homeless men recognize Flava Flav and want to smoke rocks with him. So he obliges. He explains that the crown he wears signifies that he is the king of the underground.
I start flipping out because something is going on in the world, and I'm in a dark alley with crack heads.
So I Run. I run down the streets getting harassed and catcalled by all the creepy black men of Detroit. I end up accidentally running past my home apartment and have to run backwards to get to it. As I'm running backwards I notice that time is going backwards. By the time I'm at my door again, the day has restarted.
So I go upstairs to give the Aunt lady a hug and a kiss. I find a cute little orange kitten and keep it in my purse for comfort. I run to the gate to get Charlie before the halograms come back.
We go through and do everything we did earlier, but faster because we know what's coming.
But right when the halogram people knock on the doors, it starts raining this time. And then there is a flash, and we are on inner tubes going down an indoor, false river ride. Sean is there in an inner tube. We say "Hey Buddy"
So we have been brought to a conditioning concentration camp that makes no sense, and is really a lame theme park.
And they force Sean down a water slide that has no pool at the bottom, and he dies at the bottom. He doesn't die from shock or anything, but he's just so disappointed in the ride.


Concepts and Images: B
Concepts and Methods of the Visual Culture: A
The Fairy Tale: A-
Figure Drawing: B+
Advanced Figure Painting: B+

Marie: the nice thing about Unicru, which is a company that produces these online applications, is that it will save my information and all i have to do is double click and it will come up.

Marie: so i wont have to retype everything

Me: that's what I like about unicorns too

Marie: You need a spanking.
Ursula VonRydingsvard makes large wooden sculptures in which she burns, saws, and chips away to make the blocks upon blocks weird looking (technical art term?)

Robert Adams takes black and white photographs of Americana's interruption of the landscape. Ugly content but beautiful pictures.

Mark Dion's work questions the value and importance of history and artifacts. He finds things, and places them in cabinets in any kind of order. Dug in the Thames river and displayed the trash he found. Loves flea markets.

Mark Bradford makes god-awful paper collages. They are big.

Robert Ryman paints white paint onto white squares of paper. "Philadelphia Prototype" He's an old man who has been making art since forever, so we give him a break.

Laylah Ali makes pastel colored, flat cartoons. They have creepy baby teeth.

Krysztof Wodiczko has a cool name. Makes VERY large projections of faces or hands, on old buildings.

Nancy Spero is a cool old lady who takes her drawings from her youthful rebellious days. War protesting. Disembodied heads. Ribbons of blood.

An-my Le is a vietnamese woman who pays guys to re-enact the Vietnam war, as authentically as possible. She participates by playing her part and hiding from them, taking the pictures of 'military' in action.

Alfredo Jaar does commentary of violence in countries forgotten about. Rwanda. People forgotten. A large lit up table filled with photo slides of people who survived.

Jenny Holzer makes words scroll on walls.

Laurie Anderson is a superstar artist. Plays with neon lights and violin. Rides around in a ridiculously big Lazy boy chair.

Richard Serra makes undulating steel sculptures of single sheets of steel. Way huge.

Sally Mann takes naked pictures of her children and it kinda freaks me out, but they are beautiful

Margaret Kilgallen loves folk arts, and mimics it. She uses the typography from old handpainted signs. Loves handpainting flat images.

Barry McGee is a graffitti artist. His characters look strung out and drippy.

Pepon Osorio is Puerto Rican and comments of masculinity in his Barbershop and Jail installation. He made a travelling piece that was like a doll house.

Christian Boltanski uses lightbulbs to illuminate old photos of dead kids.

Gerhard Richter makes beautiful oil paintings that look like photographs, but then in a big sweep, messes them up. They are still cool.

Louise Bourgeois makes bronze dicks and arms. And a spider.

Gilbert and George are hilarious and make the best shit.

David Salle is a total 80's artist. Tacky, colorful, and dated.

Ericson and Ziegler's work is based on domesticity. They made an historic home covered in camouflaged, but still in the assigned color palatte. Took seedbags from a farm and sold it as art. Gave the money back to the farmer. Helpful art. Community art.

Janine Antoni likes to chew on things.

Vito Acconci whacks off and bites himself and by god, it's art.

Joseph Beuys uses felt and fat. Teaches a dead hare about art.

James Luna is a native American who loves the stereotype.

Sherrie Levine takes pictures of other artist's paintings/photos/sculptures and this is HER art.

Ana Mandieta works with the earth's materials to create her body's silhouette.

Andres Serrano peed on Jesus.

Haim Steinbach takes items from stores and puts them on his original shaped shelves to make people come to a conclusion as to what his statement is.

David Hammons makes random things. I don't even know, or care

Ida Applebroog likes to use canvases presses together. The paintings are usually two toned, and the eyes are usually obscurred somehow, behind glasses or goggles (my own personal observation)

Maya Lin makes quiet zen-like outdoor installations. Public ones.

Carolee Scneeman likes naked people holding meat, and blood.

Felix Gonzales-Torres' boyfriend died of AIDS and his work is probably the saddest and most heartwrenching. A pile of candy that's the same weight as his boyfriend lie in the corner. the viewers are urged to take a piece. The museum replenishes it at the end of the day. His work speaks of the impermanence of life. Really sad.

William Wegman has a thing for dogs.

1)Book I Paradise lost

2) Don Quixote

500-750 word essay
(3 ideas)

I love you.
I could never tell you because I'm bad with showing my feelings.
But I love you.
You make me happy, and also drive me crazy in horrible and wonderful ways.
I love you.
You teach me new things, and let me experience things with you, and on my own.
You aren't perfect in any way.
You are lactose intolerant.
ALL of my clothes are dirty.
I feel like I smell bad.
Alice and I are going bra shopping today.
I only have 2 bras.
And that's no so much fun when you have to wear a bra everyday.
I've washed them by hand, but ugh. Only two? I hate this rotation.
It's cute pin-up bra with polka dots, or matronly modest flesh colored ensemble.
You can tell I'm just about bi-polar by my bras.
I want this to not be the case.
Dear morning class:
You are a cool class and all, but you are way too early.
I'd skip you if I wasn't able to actually feel all my money draining away during each class period, as I grasp to make my mind open to "learning"

Dear CCS:
You cost a lot of money. And you're pretty much open enrollment now.
What the fuck.

Dear New Students:
You are all stereotypes of yourselves.
Just because you dye your hair black and wear berets and red lipstick, doesn't mean that you are a real art student.
It means that it's just a shopping cart MORE full of things your parents bought for you.

Dear Me:
Why can't we fall asleep earlier when we know there's class in the morning?
It'd save us all a lot of heartache and grumblings.