September 26, 2010

I Am Famous

A few months ago, I received a print order from a Kate Voegele*. As I did a silent mini cheer, a little something I do with all new orders, I thought the name, Kate Voegele, sounded vaguely familiar. I sifted through the old noggin and quickly remembered,

One of Kate's favorites

"Aha! The beautifully sang female rendition of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah I recently gave the thumbs up to on Pandora was sung by one such Kate Voegele."

Then, the brain wheels started churning and the following inner monologue ensued,

"Kate Voegele's songs are on Pandora. Kate Voegele is a famous singer. A famous singer** likes my art!"

Another Kate pick

Prompting a quick Google stalk session, I learned,

"Kate Voegele has a recurring role on One Tree Hill. Kate Voegele is a famous actress. A famous actress likes my art!"

Put two and two together,

"Kate Voegele is a famous singer and a famous actress. A famous singer/actress likes my art! I am famous by association! I AM FAMOUS!"

Fast forward to this morning when I was informed by a little birdie's email that Kate Voegele recently blogged about my art.

Kate's blog

"Kate Voegele hearts Houston. Kate Voegele hearts Houston because of my art! I made someone love Houston! I AM THE AMBASSADOR OF HOUSTON!"

And that is how, ladies and gentlemen, I became famous.

And also why the mayor should give me the keys to the city.***

*No, I do not routinely reveal private customer information to the entire blogosphere. Before you outrage retaliate, just keep reading. This goes somewhere.

**Famous singers being fans of my art is not a new thing for me. Shout out to Winter Wallace. What can I say, musicians love me. Ego? There's no ego here.

***So, my head is about three times it's normal size at the moment. But do not fret. I am sure that in the next 15 minutes or so, I will surely step in a pile of feces or unknowingly tuck my skirt into my underpants or UT WILL LOSE HORRIBLY TO UCLA and my head will return to its usual slightly-on-the-small-side-and-not-even-close-to-symmetrical size.

September 9, 2010

Art Class Bores Me

I often daydream about going back to school and pursuing a fine arts degree. With BFA in hand, maybe, just maybe I'll be a real artist. But then I quickly flashback to days spent studying in the library*, to monotonous coffee mug welding professors, to thousands of perfectly good dollars spent on textbooks**, and to the handful of dull art classes I've experienced in the past and my daydreams quickly fizzle, sputter and die.

Lifted from real live craptacular art class sketch pads.

So what are these 'handful of dull art classes' that have left a foul taste in my mouth? My art instruction track record includes:
1. A summer art program at the local fine arts museum when I was about 7 years old. I remember going to the vending machine to buy candy and that darn machine spit out a Nutrigrain bar instead. A Nutrigrain bar is a POOR substitute for M&Ms. Pretty telling if this is one of the only memories I have of that art class.
2. Elementary art classes...and then the ever more prestigious advanced middle and high school art classes. Here, I encountered my first stool.
3. A drawing class I took up at a local arts league about 2 summers ago. Woohoo. More stools.

I have found that art teachers love, LOVE to pull the same old art tricks out of the same old art lesson hat. To name a few favored drawing subjects:
1. STOOLS. Why!? WHY!? These have to be the most boring items to sketch ever. EVER.
2. Ladders. Great. A really tall stool. Thanks for varying it up.
3. Bowling pins. Especially when the pin is laying on its side with the bowling pin head pointing directly at you. I can't draw that dimension without it looking stupid. I can't!
4. Hands. So, I take it the teacher ran out of ideas, looked down and saw...hands! Lesson done!
5. Other students. I get it. Free models. about...awkward.

Another common art lesson that never made any sense to me: drawing something in one line AND while not looking at your paper. What purpose does this serve?

Needless to say, I have not had the most enticing art class experiences to push me into the BFA direction.***

Plus, there's something fun about not knowing what I'm doing, learning through trial and error, making mistake after mistake after mistake get the point. I find it exciting to scavenge the aisles of the art supply store****, discovering new treasures in the forms of special effect mediums, fancy schmancy inks, and other arty farty doohickeys with no earthly idea why they exist, what they do and whether or not I may blow up my house with my art chemical science experiments.

So in summary: Art credentials? Who needs art credentials?! Not I, I say!*****

Every breath you take, every move you make, I'll be watching you.

*Or holed up in my cell block dorm room. Or imprisoned in my apartment taking Port Charles/Facebook/space staring breaks every 10 minutes.
**Perfectly good dollars that could have gone towards bags, shoes, decent haircuts, beauty products, and kittens...KITTENS GALORE!
***Another reason why I have decided art school is not for me is that, I've actually browsed a few art program curriculum and...let me tell you...they sound like a snoozefest.
****My local art supply store is run by some very cool hipster art peeps. I'm talking Buddy Holly glasses, rainbow colored hair, perfectly mused dreadlocks, tats/ink/whatever they call them cause I'm not cool enough, black attire, Doc Martens, the whole shebang. So I don my black beret and try to be incognito. No, I don't. But I do Pacman my through the aisles obnoxiously oooing and ahhing like an athletic sock/white sneaker clad tourist.
*****I hope this doesn't come back to bite me in my arty farty a$$.