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artdjgblog · 4 years

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Innerview: M.L. / University of the Arts, Philadelphia, PA

April 2008

Image: MO Fine Arts Academy Name Badge / Logo: Roman Duszek

Note: Interview for a design student’s art history lecture.

Introduction:

I wanted to know if you would be willing to answer a few questions for me. I really like your work, because I really appreciate the super hand-done and collage quality of it. I think it’s a way of working that’s often forgotten and overlooked, but personally I really like it, and your work really appeals to me. I’m especially interested in your work with show posters, so if you would be amenable to a short interview I would really appreciate it. You can just shoot me back an e-mail, or if you prefer a phone interview that would be fine too. Thanks! 01) Did you go to school for art, or are you self taught? I was fortunate to attend one of the best kept secrets in design schools at Southwest Missouri State University (SMSU) in Springfield, MO. Shortly after I left, the name was simplified to Missouri State University. (Rewind A Bit to 1996) The year before my Freshman fall semester, I was selected for the first annual Missouri Fine Arts Academy, which was held on the campus of SMSU. Before my senior year of high school (back in 1996) I thought about pursuing a career in architecture design, in particular, the area of sports stadium design. Though, after several years of lying to myself that I would eventually kick my math deficiency, I got a kick in the gut that this might not be my best choice. I loved to shut myself in my room for hours at a time drawing everything from comics to sports logos to buildings and such. I loved the creative aspect of this and felt that not only might I lose some of that personal one-on-one with architecture (though, nothing short of creative, but it’s a relatively computer and technical group effort), I would be held responsible to make the designs actually “work”. Being that I was terrible at math I didn’t want to be held accountable for future building flops. So, at the Fine Arts Academy I did a little bit of re-discovering of my own wheels, as I realized that I had more to offer from my fingertips. Raised from the dirt of a farm in the middle of the mid-west, I was pretty naive to most all things having to do with graphic design, I just knew that I should head in that direction, yet not limit myself only there. And I had shown signs of graphic design earlier on by way of winning a small town logo competition for a skating rink / bowling alley in the fifth grade. I just had a hunch while in creation of the identity (they kept the original, but i still have the newspaper clipping copy depicting my original entry) that I would be chosen out of the dozen other area schools and get my creation up on that big sign. Well, come time for the grand opening of The Fun Factory, my school principal forgot to notify me or my parents that I was the celebrated one to christen the new establishment. The next week she apologized, but i didn’t really give a care as I don’t like such sanctions of attention, and I still don’t. Most kids would have been struck with disappointment by the loss of a free chance to be the first to scuff the freshly waxed lanes with boulders and the new floor with skates, but the deep gut spoilage came to me by way of finally getting to see my logo up on that sign. I was devastated. My design had been butchered. This was my earliest memory of design sabotage. How could somebody take my vision and just ruin it? I look at all things in my life to have lead me up to this point in the writing, and so I feel that early little burnt spark in my gut that day told me something important…pour yourself into your work and protect that. (Fast Forward To 1996) To shorten the story, I came back from those three weeks of Fine Arts Academy in a born-again sense within my own talents, though still unsure of how to officially tap into it like I once had before body hair and outside influences and distractions pushed “play”. Being inspired by a couple of graffiti artists that I observed at the Fine Arts Academy, I began studying the art of typography (though, I had no idea what that word meant then) by way of this whole new world of urban language. And being that I tried to keep my nose clean and lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere, I just practiced my own graffitied typography twists and turns by way of perfecting one-of-a-kind personalized locker names and special birthday certificates for my classmates and friends on cheap Wal-Mart sketchbook paper. I was never so thankful to be attached to my small school in such a way as I only had two dozen classmate name plates to hand draw and color and diecut. If I did that now, my hands would surely buckle. I didn’t need to do it then, but I saw it as an investment towards the future growth of my work, or some way to start my last year of schooling fresh. My senior year was mostly spent in my bedroom making things. All of my friends had girlfriends and I had my work to sit next to on weekend nights. I also was inspired by a new art teacher at the school named Allen Heck. He was a real artist and not just some fluke or painter who couldn’t sell work so in-turn dropped on the totem pole to teach a crummy low-budget art program. Allen had a business head and an artistic head and he meant business in a classroom that spilled creativity. Even though there were a couple of art teachers before Allen that I admired, most art classes before his were mostly afterthoughts or throwaways. Places where the jerk-off kids could goof and ruin the atmosphere for the ones who wanted to be there to learn and develop, just like at most any school, i suppose. Anyway, I found an excuse to be in Allen’s classroom as much as I could and he sorta guided me on some design paths. I also helped him teach several of the elementary classes (we had K-12 grades all under one roof) that year. At this same time I was getting really involved in devouring music and an early mining idea of combining art and music started to strike, though it wouldn’t cement until several years later. Outside of Allen’s classes I landed a logo for the local Future Farmers of America chapter, along with other little so-called “best artist in the class” projects. A title that I didn’t really think I deserved as a friend of mine was ten times the draftsman that I was. Anyway, for my not-so troubles with the Future Farmers (I wasn’t a member and I didn’t want to follow my blood line), I got a giant canvas carrying case for artwork big enough that a beefy baby calf corpse could take a nap in it (I use it now to stuff my dirty clothes in for the laundromat trips). In early 1997, my guidance counselor set-up a special solo trip for me to visit an area company that specialized in yearbook designs. I went and wasn’t completely enthused about this place that seemed to put a lock on creativity in a darkened room with eyes staring at computer screens, shuffling around items given to them, though, I lied to myself that as I would grow older, this is what I might want. It just didn’t really say “Happiness” to me though, more-so (to quote The Beatles), “Happiness is a warm gun”. Still, I decided to go on ahead with going to a college that had graphic design courses. As graduation loomed on the purple and white horizon, I began to think a bit more seriously about applying for schools to further my education. Being that I had some solid fortune at the Fine Arts Academy at Southwest Missouri State University, and being that Springfield, MO was four hours south down the black top road (far enough from everything, but not too far for a weekend visit), I registered with no time to spare. Thoughts of the Kansas City Art Institute loomed, but they were more expensive, and i felt some sort of strange magnetism to SMSU. I ended up getting in by a scrape to the only college I applied for. I had the lowest common denominator for test scores and was in the top half of my graduating class as I was 12 out of 24. That was all the requirements I needed, the deal was set. The transition from high school to college art class (like most I assume) was a little challenging for me as I soon realized that the mold I was in previously had to be broken as I wasn’t comparable to skill with my new classmates. Though, the drawing classes frustrated, yet intrigued me, I did do fairly decent in my fundamentals design classroom. And this is where I learned more about making like-minded, potential life-long friends, a skill I hadn’t perfected much since my first day of Meadville first grade. All of my friends in foundations course were annoyed with working in cutting blades and paper and such…whereas, I flourished a good reputation in those departments and at times neglected all other areas of my studies to perfect my art skills. On break one early spring morning my friends spoke of much better things to come in the coming semester. Their minds were on the computer. They couldn’t wait as they had backgrounds in computer-related image creating in their high school yearbook classes. My school had one computer until I was a senior, and then we got a baker’s dozen or so. Other than that few hour visit to the local yearbook factory, I was naive to the idea of a computer as the essential tool for the modern day graphic designer. Exhausted by their comments, anxieties swelled in me and out finally popped my ignorance to the subject, “I plan to take the direction in graphic design that is done without the computer. I’m going to take the courses that are all hands-on.” And instant mockery, was I. My friends ripped me a new one and basically said I better learn pretty quick because graphic design wasn’t conquered without the computer. This is all really quite humorous to me know (possibly to them too) as I’ve somehow managed some mild success with my hands-on design approach and most of them are staring at computers all day in jobs they dislike or not even doing graphic design at all. Later that year I found out where the design kids were stuffed as I climbed aboard a twenty minute bus ride to the small downtown area of Springfield and up an elevator zooming past vacant floors housing archives of university products and collections to the top of a five story building where the world of graphic design officially opened up to me. Did it open wide at first? That answer is a giant NO as I was still so naive to what the heck I was getting into that when my friends early-on claimed, “I can’t wait until next semester for typography class”. I said, “Cool! We get to design maps?” 02) Were your areas of interest in school (artistically) the same as they are now? My artistic whatevers were put on hold the first few semester of design school. Not only that, but they were run thru the emotional and physical gambits over and over. Being thrown on a computer was very troubling for me and there was a time that I almost quit design all together because I didn’t feel a connection to the work anymore thru the screen barrier. So, I struggled to find myself again for about a year and a half. Though, at the same time the design instructors at SMSU were (and still are) old-fashioned in a sense with their training and we still did many hands-on projects. I shined more in these areas, though my work still seemed more like decorating than me trying to say something. True, design is pretty much decorating and saying something, but, I couldn’t really find myself and it felt more like doing my chores than anything else. I think it can be dangerous when the designer is hogging the avenue and only speaking for their ego or style and not client intentions. Sometimes a healthy dose of both works, sometimes not. Anyway, I just didn’t “get” what I was doing and basically was doing an incredibly OK job at fulfilling my instructor’s projects. Which is fine, but it took me a while to really enjoy design. All of the instructor’s at SMSU were (mostly still are) from Eastern Europe and Russia. This was a great experience for me as it opened me up to not only a unique education in design, but also one in culture. I felt a strange connection to this as I was somewhat foreign being an artistically-challenged kid from a farm in The Sticks, Missouri. There is an exciting mix of design and passion going on down there on the fifth floor of that building. New wheels in me started to get greased around this same time and my eyes started to open a pinch. And they really thumped when I went on a limb to attach illustration classes to my already full plate during my junior year. I was starting to get hungry and / or full…full in a sense to where I needed to get the work out of my system. It was time for me to find my voice. 03) How did you get started working as an illustrator? Growing up and drawing a lot, I thought I was pretty decent at it, but nothing more special or ordinary than creating strange, graphic WWII battles and mimicking comic book characters. I even had an epic, life-sized drawing of Batman I worked on at my grandma’s almost every week after school. Sadly, I think it was thrown away recently when she moved. However, on the back burner to the drawing, there was a side of me that always did a lot of cut-outs and saving and archiving of things. I think most every kid at some point cuts things of interest from magazines and tacks them to their wall or jumbles words cut to make “cool” sayings glued on paper. My older brother and I did this a lot. Mostly, we were just never bored and always doing something and always being inspired by anything and everything. We even created our own little magazine (I still have a few issues) at my grandma’s. My grandmother was a good influence on my creative side too as we were always making homemade things there. My siblings and I recreated any event we went to or anything we watched on television / movies in our sandbox, tree house(s), forts and bedroom. I was fortunate to have a large intake of popular culture and mix that with the experience of farm life and a lot of room to play. All of this fueled my creative side to where at a younger age I had a lot of options to choose from and I enjoyed and loved them all. Though, it took me a while to re-discover this within myself in design school. I was getting deeper into school and the ever present “What do I wish to do with my life” question(s) (among other personal mind trappings and inner wrangling). This especially was asked after I signed up with other design students on several professional studio visits. Every time I would come home with an empty heart from these “creative” places that felt more like controlled meat markets than anything remotely creative. Some people thrive in certain areas and not everybody wants the same thing, but the typical trappings of community computer screen shuffling didn’t offer me much hope at all. I have always enjoyed being alone making things. I’ve also been very protective of my creations and I didn’t want to be thrown into a factory-like design setting unless it was my own to where I could do what I wanted, when I wanted and have parental rights and control. Coming back to school from these studio visits was very discouraging to me. I felt confused and as if my career path was in a box already. Around this time I toyed with the idea of taking illustration classes to help push myself a little more as I wanted to keep what little fire I had in me from burning out. However, I wasn’t confident in my illustration skills as I thought I wasn’t solid enough at regular drawing. This is a terrible mistake that I feel many students make. I sorta had to shovel deep and realize the way I created when I was younger and that really helped cultivate a new side of me as I learned how to pour myself into and out of my work again and it was fun and special. Looking back, I think mustering up the courage to find confidence in illustration helped me in the long run. Though, at times I still struggle with thinking that I’m still not good enough at particular things. The only competition I have is with myself. 04) Did it take you a long time to find a working style that you are satisfied with? For the most part I advise for makers of things to stay away from the trap of a “working style”. And it’s mighty easy to stumble or choose something and milk it, which is the feeling I get from the majority of artists and designer’s portfolios. It’s easy to stick with turning over the same old tires on the same old asphalt. I realize I have a certain feel to my body of work, but each day my head’s approach to life is so different (heck each minute sometimes) that I try to trust my gut instincts. I just try to speak from my heart, which ends up in my gut sometimes. A lot of times I trust good ol’ intuition. Of course, some projects require a bit more fine tuning than others as something like a logo has more life than say, a concert poster. Even though the logo might have more of a lasting impression, I’d rather put my butter to the blank paper bread of the poster. I love to try new things and just reach and grab at whatever I have around me and in my head, marriaging that with the band and the music in some strange brew. At times it can be quite intoxicating and when you do it enough and for a long while, you end up not even thinking, rather just doing and it’s fluid and non-calculating. This is when it becomes pure, this is when design becomes true language. I’ve had some projects where I’ll be told about it from a client and I’ll immediately have a vision in my head of how it should look, and then go home and start teaching it how to walk. Items like CD packages are very similar to logos because you’ve got to really give out something that you don’t mind sticking around a while in the lock-down of identity for a product or persona. There have been a few CDs that have happened out in a matter of a couple hours. The majority though, I like to have enough time to tackle and build in three separate sessions. But, I really don’t like sitting on projects for a long time. And usually the client has more of a personal care for a CD than a poster, so it might take a three act play or teeter tottering until all sides are fixed to fancy. I’ve had a few CDs that have stretched to almost a year. Being that my work is recognizable to a hands-on aesthetic, I’m sure most think that I don’t touch a computer. This is true and not true. I try to build as much as I can by hand as I love that connection I get. The screen barrier between me getting dirty with my work has bothered me and created anxieties with my work since day one in formal design class when I was thrown on a computer to mash buttons. I do what I can by hand and then use the computer as a layout and printing tool and I use it to correct or help put the finish on some items. Most designers forget that the computer is only a tool. If I could have it my complete way, I wouldn’t use a computer at all. I have made several projects in this way, but it’s hard to do it all in this fashion anymore and I have a wide format ink jet printer to print a lot of my more complex poster works with. The computer has ruined and helped designers. But, overall I feel that if it’s treated with respect and not used as substitute brains, then a designer will truly show his or her meat and potatoes. For the most part, I get a little disappointed in the output from a vast majority of designers as it all feels far away like an afterthought that doesn’t count, or simply as a decorating kit or pre-fabricated template you buy at a craft store. But, I try to keep my disgruntled burly bears close to my own heels. As long as I am creating what needs to be created from my own little corner of the basement, then I am a pretty happy camper. Though, the computer has broken many a bulb, not only with designers, but also with attitudes toward treating the designer with respect. Maybe it’s always been this way, but it’s easy for me to think that I can throw an iPhone and hit somebody who thinks they know graphic design because they can change the colors on their myspace or blog (and I’d have to borrow their iPhone to do so). It’s great that creativity is being fused with daily interaction, in a sense, but it can get a little confusing for people. I don’t think it should be reserved for a certain few, but I feel that everybody thinks they are a graphic designer now. It’s like trying to keep the raccoons out of the patch of sweet corn. You’ve just got to find the right gauge of wire to shock the perimeter with so they will find other food to steal and nibble. And there are still those who are hungry enough to go find and get the good stuff on their own. I suppose I’ve found myself to be more in tune to old folk artists and with the mindset of the old school designers and illustrators. Folk art is as pure in art and language as cave painting and daily ancient living. I like the idea of somebody just up and making something out of the blue because they’ve got to get their story out for themselves. Last summer I went from The Museum of Modern Art to the American Folk Art Museum in New York City in an afternoon and found a more pure-incentive to making things from the folk artists than the artists and designers across the street. It was refreshing. I had been enjoying my personal study of folk art history the past four or five years, but seeing it out of the pages of a book or web site really gave it a new light. And to see that most folk art has pushed into some avenues of the mainstream is really interesting, though chokes the purity from it original conceptual intention. I find that a lot of artists and designers are just as much about making themselves as important as the work they are producing. I just have never understood this idea. So, what individuals are my art and design in kin with? There are many, and it goes beyond just one field, but here is the short list: Grandma Gibson / Jim Henson / Stanley Donwood / Lester Beall / Saul Bass / Seymour Chwast & Pushpin Studio / Paul Klee / Ivan Chermayeff / Henryk Tomaszewski / Art Chantry / Vaughn Oliver / Edward Gorey / Saul Steinberg / Bill Traylor / Ray Johnson / Eric Carle / Cy Twombly / Robert Rauschenberg / Henry Darger / Hans Schleger…to name a few. There are a few items I’ve created that I can tell don’t speak right in retrospect (and they are probably obvious to others as well). These were the ones that caught me in a bad mood, exhaustion or in a lack of time. It’s so hard not to let the daily life and emotions influence the work. And in my case I’ve never been able to just chase my dreams, as I’ve had to work full-time day jobs and at times part-time jobs on top of those, and then slide my work into late nights and weekends (and I always had a girlfriend on top of that…now, a wife). It can be a hard struggle for a healthy balance. I just try to approach it with the idea that I am a man and a man who happens to make things. I am doing what I need to be doing and working hard towards the goal of some day having all of the clocks wound on my time. I have been fortunate in my choices of day jobs. I admire those who wish to live in near-poverty designing for bands and independent projects, but there is no money in it at all and it’s easy for people to take advantage of you. I tried it for a few short stints, but got tired quickly of scraping by and relying on musician’s responsibility of paying me and I ran out of belongings to sell to pay the rent. Throwing out the few bad apple clients, I must say I can’t complain too much as I’ve been blessed with some great people to not only work with, but also to have relationships with beyond the art. Janitorial and groundskeeping had me for 5 years and I loved it. The pay isn’t great, but I was alone and within my thoughts and had time to write and actually make a few things while on the clock. Also, I was able to bring home whatever stuff I could dig out of the dumpster. I’m still chipping at a 15,000 page stack of bricked paper that I found in a dumpster 6 years ago. Currently, I am in the second year of being trapped in a cubicle as a data entryman. It’s a great job, it’s not too difficult, I work with people I know, I walk to work, I’m able to get my teeth fixed and am setting aside some money now for my future, but I don’t plan to marry it as it’s not what I need to be doing with my talents. Many days I can’t sit still because all I can think about is going home and making things. Design is a way of life for me. It’s easy for it to start to take over at times, but I’ve been working on a better balance of it by getting up at 5:00 in the morning, before the “junk” pollution of the day. I love getting up before the crickets and getting to work. Even if I’m filling up on books and movies, it’s still work for me. But, it’s not really work, it’s just what I enjoy and I kinda need it to aid survival. If a designer only puts their design mind onto paper / screen into a 9 to 5 crack, then they might want to think about looking into other lines of life work to chew on. 05) Do you do a lot of self promotion, and how? I’ve been in an interesting position to where my work has been trickling word of mouth for the most part. I’ve been surrounded in positions where I’ve been around musicians a lot and in general, people have been attracted to my creations to where they too want me to make them something. With age, I don’t get out as much to shows, nor do I live with musicians anymore (thankfully). Those days were great, but that kind of lifestyle can’t be taken seriously forever. But, it helped shape me in some way. And I’ve established myself, somewhat. It still amazes me that my work is speaking in the volume that it has. It’s certainly nothing of major impact, but it means a lot to me. For many years I’ve also been at a constant with submitting large quantities of my work to yearly design magazine annuals. This breaks my bank for sure, but it’s the best way of promotion as the work gets spread around the world quickly. I have contacts in many countries who found me this way and thus, offer me entry into their books, magazines, contests or give me a shot to make something for them. The internet is a great source too, of course. Recently I’ve somehow caught a breathe of fresh air from the web currents and realize the easy importance of putting myself out there on it. It’s a strange world though, and I’m still a bit ignorant of it, but I’m becoming more comfortable. I used to not be into self-promotion much. Not only that, I just didn’t have much time with it, being weighed down by day jobs and life stuff. And I’m a believer of the work speaking for itself and letting it take time to mature and incubate. Right now I’m looking at how much weight my portfolio has gained and am seeing what alternate routes I can walk with it. I’ve always planned to be doing my best work, for me, but I’ve never really pushed it as hard until now, as the big No. 30 looms. True, I am making what I want to make, but I don’t wish to be working a full-time job much longer. I have alot more to say and in different varieties of value packs and I just need more second hands to say it in. 06) Lastly, because I’m interested in doing show posters, do you have any advice on positioning oneself into that market?

I tell a lot of people a similar thing that I’ve heard Quentin Tarantino say to aspiring filmmakers, (to paraphrase here) “Just go and make what you need to make and do it at whatever cost.” Just get out there and make things and get those things out, even if you go broke or worn out doing it. Catch fire and start a paper trail. I was fortunate to not only love devouring music since the day my ears could, but ended up in positions to where I was surround by musicians and / or individuals with like-minded inner ear infestations. Most importantly, I found that I could merge the things I loved into a cohesive music and art stomping ground. My last couple of college years I befriended several bands and musicians and had my own little business on the side from class, making show posters and CD packages. After four and a half years of college and exhausting all my design class options…AND ability to fail Algebra four times and even an art history course…I had a higher calling to quit spinning my own wheels and dropped college from the daily schedule, among many other things weighing me down at the time. It was gutsy, but one of the most crucially sound decisions I’ve ever made. I moved from the Bible Belt Buckle comforts of Springfield and into a big, orange, dilapidated house in the middle of a shady section of Kansas City, Missouri with a band that had become my best friends. I almost didn’t do it as my pants pockets were turned inside-out and thoughts of sticking around the family farm to save up money kept me down. I think a lot of people were very disappointed in me too for quitting school. But, my decision was made and I believe in following the heart instead of stopping up the artery. I would have been miserable to stay at home and I had bigger fields to plow and sew. And I didn’t need a piece of paper saying what I was supposed to be doing. Most importantly, only I can tell myself what I should do with me. -djg

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sinceileftyoublog · 7 years

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Pitchfork Music Festival 2017: 7/14-7/16

Clif’s Cassette Collage

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Last year’s Pitchfork featured wild-card non-headliners and a deep rest of the festival. This year? Not so much. LCD Soundsystem headlined last year’s Lollapalooza Sunday, and this year saw them headlining the first day of a smaller festival. Saturday featured a massive farewell tour in the form of A Tribe Called Quest. Sunday’s headliner was Solange, an artist coming off of her career best work that held up even in the face of her more famous sister’s equally strong work. There were reunions and rare performers. This was going to be the biggest Pitchfork ever, right?

Well, only if you’re talking about the length of the lines. Instead, Pitchfork somehow retained its intimacy (besides those lines). Much of the music was undoubtedly laid back, even the hip hop sets decidedly minimal as opposed to past ones by the likes of Kendrick Lamar and Chance the Rapper. There was room for the experimental, the theatrical, and the combination of the two. Overall, the festival continues to book daringly and, more importantly, more women and people of color than almost any other major pop music festival. Like last year, there was no one true standout the way there has been in past years, but there were still sets that exceeded, met, and performed below my expectations.

Read on as I sort the many different sets I saw into distinct categories relating to everything from content to how they fit within the quintessential festival experience.

THE NOSTALGIC

Ride

It may have been delayed by over twenty minutes. You may not have been able to hear lead singer Mark Gardener that well. Their new album may be just okay. But as soon as Ride played the opening notes to “Seagull”, you knew exactly why even a 20-years-later version of the band is booked late in the day to play a major festival. Simply put, the songs from Nowhere and their early EPs were flat-out gorgeous.

The Feelies

Talk about a band that takes their time, whether it’s releasing albums or even just building up a song. The Feelies took from their earliest (Crazy Rhythms and The Good Earth) and their latest (2011′s Here Before and this year’s In Between). Lead singer Glenn Mercer’s gentle voice may have sounded a bit weak at times, but the band’s jangly guitar pop and krautrock arrangements were perfect for grooving on a temperate Saturday afternoon.

Arab Strap

One of the best sets of the festival came from a band that I love that I totally expected to not translate live. The Scottish electronica-imbued spoken word from Arab Strap sounded great, with more singing and noise than expected. Front-man Aidan Moffat sucked down Four Star Pilsners and complained how hot the stage was as if they were litanies in one of his songs. His penchant for remembering the lyrics of his own songs is impressive, and even if he had to read them by the time the anthemic “The First Big Weekend” came along, he was just as much the star of the show as the rest of the band.

THE OLD-TIMEY

Hamilton Leithauser

The Walkmen were always a band whose slower songs recalled waltzes or stories told by your grandparents. Hamilton Leithauser & Rostam Batmanglij’s I Had A Dream That You Were Mine one-upped that last year, with its clinking pianos and string flourishes going for an unabashedly retro aesthetic, including everything from doo wop to folktales. Live, Leithauser and his band recreated that perfectly. He’s always had a hell of a voice, his wail equally as strong as his Dylan-esque sneer. “Rough Going (I Won’t Let Up)” was an exemplary intro, “A 1000 Times” a giant sing-along, “1959″ an effective vocal solo as opposed to the duet album version.

As Joey Purp played from the Blue Stage, Leithauser recalled being sonically overwhelmed by the nearby XX. “Everybody left NYC...because they couldn’t afford a practice space without a fucking band next door,” he shared before launching into the gorgeous “Where The Truth Is...” Old and bitter’s never sounded so sweet.

THE MELANCHOLY

Angel Olsen

As a band in matching suits entered the stage, I thought to myself, “Am I really about to see Angel Olsen?” The last time I had seen her was at Lincoln Hall on the Burn Your Fire For No Witness Tour, and apparently, she’s gotten way bigger since then. Her set started out strong with some country-indebted kiss offs: “High & Wild”, “Shut Up Kiss Me”, “Give It Up”, and “Not Gonna Kill You” all retained both the treble-heavy sheen and lyrical rawness of their studio versions. But the back half of the set was enough to put you to sleep in succession. Half Way Home’s “Acrobat” is a great song, as is “Sister”, the laid-back and jazzy “Those Were The Days”, and “Woman”, but after the first four in a row, they only served to bring you down.

Weyes Blood

Natalie Mering’s amazing, Joni Mitchell-esque voice is best suited for a club setting. Even last year’s Weyes Blood album Front Row Seat to Earth, a characteristically upbeat one for Mering’s standards, is not really ideal for a weekend day festival slot. Her voice on “Generation Why” and “Used to Be” was stunning and she either sang by herself on stage or played keys in front of her band, and the lap steel guitar on “Seven Words” gave a haunting quality to that song, but the set overall was too low key to keep non-die hard fans interested.

THE MIND-NUMBING

Colin Stetson

You know what you're getting with Colin Stetson, but that doesn’t stop him from mesmerizing me every time. His Pitchfork set was his most impressive from a curatorial standpoint. Stetson picked songs that showed off his limber playing (“The Righteous Wrath of an Honorable Man”), creative percussion (“Judges”), and even Aphex Twin influences (“Between Water and Wind). Earlier this year, Stetson released an album that was good but didn’t offer much new, but during his Pitchfork set, Not one song sounded like another.

William Tyler

The word “virtuoso” is tossed around a lot, but it’s actually appropriate for William Tyler. With a great band at his side (including Phil Cook, doing double duty with Tyler and Hiss Golden Messenger), Tyler played most of last year’s Modern Country to sheer perfection. From the summery “Sunken Garden” to the described “country meets krautrock” of “I’m Gonna Live Forever”, the set was unexpectedly loud and jammy. The percussion breakdown of “Gone Clear” was even more haunting than it was on record, “The Great Unwind” noisy. He closed with “Highway Anxiety”, whose recognizable opening riffs caused anything but a sense of dread--more a sense of comfort and calm amidst a sea of festival-goers.

THE BLISTERING

Jeff Rosenstock

The most energetic set of the festival came from something I never thought I’d ever hear at Pitchfork: something resembling ska. Indeed, Jeff Rosenstock and his band played songs off of last year’s Worry to devoted fans who knew every single word. Rosenstock took the opportunity to do what he usually does--be a shithead with a sense of humor. The dynamic frontman walked out to Weird “Al” Yankovich Red Hot Chili Peppers parody “Bedrock Anthem”. He had the crowd do two different waves. He had a couple great wisecracks (“I'd like to give a shout-out to the Pitchfork worker who got fired for booking us at this festival.”) and admitted that he and his band received $7,500 to play, a hefty sum for self-labelled shitty punks but not for pretty much anybody else. All this Rosenstock brought with the desire to get the crowd to shout along, mosh, and look out for each other.

The crowd moshes--and cools off with sprayed water--during Jeff Rosenstock

Danny Brown

I’ve seen Danny Brown 3 times at Pitchfork alone, and he gets bigger and better every time. Far from the sex-obsessed weirdo who had just released XXX a year prior in 2012 (ok, not that far), this year’s clean-cut Brown didn’t need much besides his usual DJ. Without much of a breath, he burned through favorites like “Side B (Dope Song)”, “Monopoly”, and “Growin’ Up” before playing off of last year’s landmark Atrocity Exhibition. The four-punch of “Ain’t It Funny”, “Really Doe” (which he impressively delivered considering the best part of that song is Earl Sweatshirt’s verse), “When It Rain”, and “Pneumonia” showed that every time the workman comes to Pitchfork, he has a new batch to add to his growing list of classics.

THE POLITICAL

Madame Gandhi

Four years ago, Madame Gandhi found herself on a Pitchfork stage drumming for M.I.A. Four years later, she opened up Pitchfork on the same stage, this time her own show. She still did plenty of drumming--as did many of her dancers, all clad in yellow hazmat-looking suits--but mostly rapped and ready feminist literature. Too easy? Maybe, but the energy she brought to even a capella performances of her songs attracted crowd members looking to dance and feel empowered.

Priests

"You want something to move away for / A reason to colonize,” belted Priests singer Katie Alice Greer. Her stage presence and siren of a voice may have distracted a festival crowd from how subversive her lyrics are, especially on catchy songs like “JJ” and post-punk stompers like “Nothing Feels Natural”. Priests aren’t a perfect live band, either; the guitars on “JJ” were a bit out of tune, bassist Taylor Multiz’s mic was turned down too far on “Suck”, and “Nicki” was messy. But what’s important is that the same band who released Nothing Feels Natural was on display. (Drummer Daniele Daniele admirably performing the spoken word of “No Big Bang” was certainly a highlight). Love ‘em or hate ‘em, there’s nobody like Priests.

THE DISAPPOINTING

Dirty Projectors

Dirty Projectors played Pitchfork in 2012 at the top of their game, Amber Coffman and company’s harmonies the clear highlight, Dave Longstreth’s melodies and craftsmanship translating to the stage. This time around, even with the help of former Battles member Tyondai Braxton, it was painful. “Impregnable Question” missed Coffman. Longstreth’s singing on “Keep Your Name” was as out of tune as Brian Wilson was last year. “Little Bubble” failed to captivate anybody. “Up In Hudson”, the most in-tune, still ended up boring me to the point that I wanted to wait for Arca more than watch Longstreth continue to fall apart in front of an audience.

George Clinton

I could tell that George Clinton and Parliament/Funkadelic were amazing, great players, funk masters, and rappers. But this was just the classic case of bad sound and mic leveling issues making what could have been a highlight set exactly that: a big “what if.”

THE DAY-SAVING

Nicolas Jaar

At first minimal and noisy, which didn’t go well among the crowd dealing with the uncharacteristically dwindling July evening temperatures, Nicolas Jaar eventually led into a bass-heavy set more dance than anyone could have imagined. He occasionally sang-spoke into the mic but mostly stood at his laptops, his stage lights a blazing orange, his music drowning out American Football on the Blue Stage. For those wanting a party set from The Avalanches, who had to cancel their performance, this was the next best thing.

A Tribe Called Quest

I could have put A Tribe Called Quest’s set in many of these categories, but when they came on, all I could think about was how thankful I was to hear something truly energetic. The pinnacle of all no-bullshit hip-hop sets at Pitchfork, the now-trio launched right into “The Space Program” from last year’s excellent We Got It From Here… Thank You 4 Your Service. From there, they played highlights from that album but mixed in all the classics: “Excursions”, “Bonita Applebum”, “Electric Relaxation”, “Check the Rhyme”, “Can I Kick It?”, and “Award Tour”. Q Tip not only rapped but sounded great--at a stage earlier in the day experiencing sound problems, his voice rang clearly to a crowd wanting to hear him preach. Best, when any Phife Dawg verse came up, they let it play sans interruption, the screens on each side of the stage focusing on the empty microphone.

LCD Soundsystem

If I had to withstand any of Dirty Projectors and then leave Arca early, then LCD better put on a show. They did. They headlined in 2010 around the release of This Is Happening, maybe the best show I’ve ever seen. This time around, they played virtually the same set they did last year at Lollapalooza plus the two released new songs, the building “Call the Police” and night-time ditty “American Dream”. They may be a bigger band now, and they’re certainly older, but in the time they’ve been gone, you grow to appreciate not just their live brilliance, but their ability to get even curmudgeons to dance. Murphy may still be snotty; thankfully, he can still write great songs.

THE EARNEST

Vagabon

Infinite Worlds, the debut album from Vagabon, is one of the strongest debuts of the year, so it was quite the move to open with one of its most powerful songs, the slow-building “Cold Apartment”. The rest of the set, though, showed off singer and guitarist Laetitia Tamko’s finger picking and vocals. Her voice in particular was beautiful when isolated among minimal instrumentation, though at times when she tried to rise above louder songs she was out of tune. Even if not picture perfect, Tamko was not only happy to be there but left it all out on stage, performing album highlights like “Cleaning House” and “The Embers”.

The crowd watching Vagabon very intently

Hiss Golden Messenger

Hiss Golden Messenger’s brand of country rock may have fallen on deaf ears at a festival very slowly embracing genres previously maligned by the bleeding edge hip. But that’s not the fault of the band. Running through tracks from Haw, Lateness of Dancers, Heart Like a Levee, and an upcoming album, they may not have won any new fans but confirmed for the faithful why they belonged, their pleasant and easy going instrumentation and lead singer M.C. Taylor’s existential laments making for a reflective set. Their final song, a new one called “When the Wall Comes Down”, is about exactly what you think it’s about (wait six more months for an overabundance of released “wall”-related recordings), but it was none the less powerful and a statement of togetherness.

THE THEATRICAL

Kilo Kish

The set from frequent Vince Staples collaborator Kilo Kish started out with her sitting on a chair reading a copy of The New Yorker, pretending not to notice the audience. You can guess where it went from there. While her voice always sounded good, her interpretive dancing, props, and forced falls to the stage made me want to roll my eyes more than clap. With only a DJ to back her up with tracks--a strange mix of R&B, hip hop, and jazz beats--it made for one of the more disappointing fests of the festival.

PJ Harvey

The last two albums from PJ Harvey--2011′s instant classic Let England Shake and 2016′s mediocre The Hope Six Demolition Project--are both concept albums. When the first nine songs you play are from those albums, and in mixed order, it comes across like a Decemberists set on steroids. Entering with a marching band (her band consisted of both longtime collaborator John Parish and the very active ex-Bad Seed Mick Harvey) and a sax in her hand, Harvey came across as equally witchy and goofy. The jazzy “Let England Shake” went along with the black and white video of the performance, but it wasn’t until she performed three 90s favorites that the crowd went wild--“50ft Queenie”, “Down By The Water”, and “To Bring You My Love”. For how good those three sounded, the set was worth it.

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headstrongblake · 5 years

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Five times tattooed (fywo)

ASHLEY’S ON READING BREAK - @trikrulinkon

1. So you have an appointment—and you’re going to be here how long? Octavia shot a glare towards Louis, “I don’t know, a while, if you want to go back to the restaurant and find that babe I’m sure she’s right were you left her drooling.” There went his biggest smirk onto his face as he appeared to weigh his options. Octavia rolled her eyes and started towards the shop entrance. “You better pick me up.” She tossed over her shoulder before she went inside the tattoo shop without her red headed friend. He could do whatever, she was going to get another tattoo today regardless. Besides she’d heard this shop was one of the best in DC. “Hi, I’m lookin’ for Lincoln Woods, I called about an appointment?” She told the person behind the counter before a tall man with a Mohawk came out from the back room. This her? A brow raised in his direction as who she assumed was Lincoln came around the front of the counter and leaned against it. Welcome to Second Dawn, so what’re we looking at doing today?

“You know Atlas— the Greek Titan who holds up the world on his shoulders? I want him but I want my Atlas to be wearing a cut, like…” Octavia pulled out a photo from the inside of her riding jacket, “This one.” She said, putting down on the counter a worn out photo of herself with her big brother, his arm slung around her with a smoke in his other hand. They’re both laughing but for the life of her now she couldn’t even remember why. But they looked happy and that’s all that mattered to her. “Actually, I want my Atlas to be him, but with the world on his shoulders.” Octavia said, finger tapping on her brother’s image as she glanced up at the artist. She unzipped her jacket, swiftly shrugging out of it to reveal her purple tank top underneath. “I’d like it to fit here,” Her hand rubbed over the patch of skin above her elbow on the back of her arm. “You think it’s do able?”

The artist looked between the photo and her placement of the tattoo before it appeared like he was trying to work out the drawing in his head. He picked up the pencil left on the counter and began sketching on the back of a page that the receptionist handed him. Except he stopped a moment and looked back at her. That’s a pretty tender placement. Octavia lifted her shoulders, “Not my first tattoo, if you think it’ll work, I’m game.” That answered appeared to be to his liking because before she knew it he was telling her to take a seat while he sketched something out for her to approve.

2. Today she’s itching to get out of this apartment. Get out of Alexandria and try to remind herself of all the reasons she has to stay sober. Bellamy. Her job. Her life depends on it. Louis. Her job. Murphy. Fox. Murphy. Bellamy. Fox. Louis. Bellamy. Bellamy!!! Inside these walls she might go insane and so Octavia finds herself on her bike. At first the plan is just to ride until the cravings pass. Just long enough to get her feet on stable ground so to speak except by the time she even feels remotely close to calm she’s already in DC— already parking outside of Second Dawn.

Though she might not ever understand it, there’s something about a tattoo shop that brings all her… well everything to a halt. For however long she sits in a chair it’s like all her stress and responsibilities melt away. Today is no different as she pulls the shop door open and heads inside. There’s two artists already with clients which is fine for her because truthfully, Octavia had no idea what she would even get a tattoo of today. It was definitely not one of her planned moments but she looked at different sketches on the walls and in their artist books nonetheless before she heard a familiar voice behind her. Back again? Octavia sucked in a breath pushing her thoughts of sobriety and ways to break it away to put her best forward as she turned around to see Lincoln. “Duh, it’s been almost a year since I got new ink, that might as well be a crime.”

Except in her spur of the moment decision, Octavia forgot to consider cost in her decision to show up in the tattoo shop. She thought a moment. Something small would suffice, maybe even a quick tattoo could provide enough distraction. If nothing else, she deserved a reward of sorts. It had been three months. Erin and Ryder still called daily but she was staying away from all of it despite the past two years…at least she was trying her hardest to. “Things have been kinda tight though, so I was thinking something small behind my ear, here.” She touched behind her left ear. As she began to gather all of her hair in her hands to secure it in a bun out of the way, her eyes shifted around at different pieces of work. What could she reward herself with? What mattered? Octavia pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she moved closer to a collage of stars, moons, and a sun with a face. Her lip ticked upwards as she saw the sun. “Can we do this one?” She asked, directing Lincoln’s attention to the drawing. There was a nod of his head before he pulled the pin out of the piece on the wall. Shouldn’t be a problem, let me get this cleaned up a bit first, you can take a seat in the chair. “Thanks,” She offered, surprised that he was able to take her right away before she made her way past the front desk to head into his work space. Still her mind raced but here at least she didn’t feel suffocated.

It wasn’t long before Lincoln was preparing the different inks and his needle as Octavia sat in one of the chairs. The last time he’d tattooed her, she couldn’t shut up despite the fact that he was practically a stranger. Though Octavia always felt jazzed while she was getting tattooed except today when he asked if she was ready, Octavia simply nodded and allowed her eye lids to fall shut trying to lose herself in the therapeutic buzzing.

3. Octavia’s filled with hope and buzzing with a smile on her face. It’s a world of difference in her attitude than what she displayed when she sat in his chair three months ago to get the first tattoo behind her ear. Today, she’s here for a matching set. A moon behind her ear to compliment the sun that’s already healed. Again, she’s rewarding herself. Six months clean. No coke. No oxy. Nothing more than a shared joint with her brother or drinks at a member’s house with her girls. Today everything seems manageable and it’s days like these that make it hard for her to even fathom why Bellamy doesn’t quite trust her. Obviously she knows what she’s done to him or rather herself that’s made him quick to think the worst but it’s her days like these when she feels like she’s coasting in a synthetic high despite nothing in her system that make her believe she’s got this beat. Drug addiction? Handled. Drug addict? Fuck no, that’s not her.

You going to let me in on the secret with these? A smirk pulled at her lips, brow raising at his question as she tried her hardest to sit still as Lincoln worked behind her ear. Guess she never did tell him much of anything the last time she sat in his chair. Octavia was too focused on ensuring her attention was on the sound of the buzzing that came from the needle and the sharp pain in her skin to keep herself sane that day. “Can’t a girl just like what she likes?” It’s half true. She really did simply like the design that she had seen the first time but now when she ran her finger along the healed sun she thought of it as her hope. The sun would continue to come up everyday and shine brightly so long as she remembered to keep herself straight. The moon matched and would remind her that she’d made it half way through an entire year. All she had to do was continue to put one foot in front of the other and take each day as it came. She’d made it this far—she could make it the rest of her life.

Alright then, keep your secrets, go ahead and check it out. Octavia tossed a smirk his way before she got up and headed towards the mirror near his work desk. Her finger reached up to touch her ear that had a new tattoo behind it and all she could do was smile at the ink in the mirror. It was exactly what she wanted. Exactly what she needed. She turned on her heels and slipped her cash out of her back pocket to hand to Lincoln. “Once again, you’ve nailed it—next ones going to be a giant masterpiece though.” Octavia was determined. The next tattoo would be a large grand piece.

4. All of Octavia’s tattoo’s have a reason. Some hidden meaning behind the art that she displays so proudly but the one on her wrist that matches Bellamy’s and the one Lincoln was beginning to outline on her back now meant the most to her. In the beginning the younger Blake wasn’t sure how she wanted this tattoo to look or even what she wanted to express with it but after hours of pouring over different designs that Lincoln concocted with her guidelines, it looked perfect. It was a giant piece that would take up a majority of her upper back and dip down into the middle over her spine which meant she was going to have to do more than one sitting but it was everything. The flower placements were perfect with a mandala design behind them. The color choice was exactly what she wanted.

Didn’t take you for a flower girl. While Octavia sat with her arms resting on the back of the chair, she chuckled at his suggestion. “Come on, every girl likes flowers.” She teased knowing that most girls that walked into a tattoo shop were getting a variety of the same handful of tattoos—infinity signs, anchors, a quote, or flowers. “Back when my dad was in the Grounders MC he traveled a lot but uh, he always came back with two white lilies and one black one.” Had Lincoln not been carefully outlining her tattoo, she’d have probably shrugged but instead she focused on keeping still. “Guess it felt like a good way to keep him with me.”

5. There were some days that Octavia wasn’t convinced she’d make it to twenty, let alone twenty five but somehow she’s done it and that was a reason to celebrate. After all, twenty four had been a year of incredible ups ( a new promotion, a new club, a new guy ) and devastating lows ( Erin’s death, Bellamy’s imprisonment, her relapse and overdose ) but she was doing a lot better. If she kept going the way she was, she’d even have the one thing that she’s always wanted in eight months— a patch and a place to belong. Things were finally heading in the right direction and her birthday was proving to be the only challenge recently.

Her birthday would be lonely this year. Sure, she’d be surrounded by friends and the people who care about her but it’s one of the first in a long while that her big brother would missed. Octavia tried to make it up to him near her birthday but when she’d arrived for his visitation, the guards told her Bellamy’s visitations were revoked for the time being. They wouldn’t tell her more or explain any details but she’s not an idiot. She knew how the system worked and something had to have happened. Knowing her brother— it was probably a fight between him and another inmate. So instead she decided on spending her birthday in Lincoln’s chair adding more ink to her skin.

Octavia came up behind Lincoln while he worked at his desk with a smile on her face as she gently touched her fingers to his shoulders so that she didn’t startle him entirely and mess up whatever he was working on. She slid her hands down the front of him, leaning on him to press a kiss to his cheek as she peered at his worked over his shoulder. “Hey, you still up for that session tonight?” Yeah, just finishing it up now. Emerald hues widened when she realized the work she was glancing at was the tattoo she’d given him free range to design so long as it fit nicely on her shoulder, upper arm, and slightly up her neck. “Shit…wow Lincoln, this looks so good, you sure we can get it all in one sit?” Depends on you, whatever you can handle. Octavia stood up straight before moving herself over towards the tattoo chair as she shrugged out of her prospect cut, “That sounds a lot like a challenge.” Though admittedly, she was perfectly okay with spending her birthday getting a new tattoo. This one could signify her growth. A step in a direction that hopefully would be her new rest of her life. “Let’s do this.”

#trikrulinkon #fywoic #group verse || fínd чσur wαч σut #answered memes || αím fσr thє thrσαt; slαsh dσn't stαв. mαkє ít dєєp.#the fifth one is octavia's canon tattoo #i didn't know how to describe it though SO THERE'S YOUR VISUAL

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birooksun · 7 years

Text

So I made a story based on this Riddler Fangirl picture. I’m stopping it now because if I don’t it’ll become a whole novel and I’ve already got 2 giant WIP’s right now.

She first saw him on the news, a story about a criminal now locked up who used riddles to lead Batman to solves his crimes. They posted a clip of his face and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen until it was pulled down. He apparently was killing people with death traps they had to escape from. She debated missing school just to find out more about this man, but decided not to.

She needed to expand her mind and learn more. Something just pulled her towards him, this man was a genius and instead of being bullied for it, he was testing and killing off those who couldn't pass his tests.

By the time she returned home she was carrying a bag full of books of riddles, trivia, and a few self-help books on sharpening her mind. She also had a newspaper with an article on Gotham and the rogues. There was a description and picture of each of the main ones on it. She cut out the one of Riddler and pinned it to her wall. She gave a smile just looking at his smirk as he held up the sign with his name and prisoner designation number. "I'm going to prove to everyone I can be just as smart as you."

She spent the next few years sharpening her mind, attending community college with her AP classes and finding information on the Riddler at the same time. Her parents worried a little bit about her obsession, but decided to leave it be since it was making her into a model student even if she still had only a few friends. Hannah was startled by her dad one day when he opened the door to her room. "What smells like smoke?" She jumped and bumped the soldering iron against her hands and gave a hiss of pain. "Sorry dear! I was worried you had burned something." He grabbed the ice pack from her dorm fridge they had gotten her for her birthday. "What are you making this time?" He unplugged the soldering iron as he sat next to her and placed the ice pack on her hand.

"Oh um, I saw the Riddler trophies mentioned on the news and how he was using them to mark how many people could solves his problems and death traps. I decided to make one myself as a night light." She bit her lip and looked up at her dad, wondering how he would react. He gave a small sigh and looked over at her wall. There were newspaper clippings and even photos printed out from the internet. There was a corkboard filled with riddles and location answers. He gave a frown and looked back at his daughter with concerned eyes.

"Hannah, I love how much you've applied yourself to being a good student and I know you already got accepted to Gotham University, but I just ask you don't do anything to get yourself killed. I know you look up to this man, and it's probably because of the bullying you used to receive at school, but remember we will love you no matter what. I just don't want to turn on the Gotham News Channel and see your name listed as a victim, alright?" He placed a hand on her shoulder and walked out of her room. He turned and gave her a smile as he closed the door. "Also, don't burn anything down."

"It was one time!" She shouted back. She looked back to her tv, glad her parents had satellite so she could watch the news in Gotham. She gave a smile looking at the reports of the latest breakout. "Life must be so exciting there." Hannah stood up and plugged the iron back in, working on the last bit of wiring. She gave a squeal of excitement when she flipped the switch and it came to life. "I did it! I made my own Riddler Trophy!" She placed it next to her nightstand and decided to work on her book of crossword puzzles some more before dinner. She was so excited that in a couple months she'd be living in Gotham. Who knows, she could even meet her idol in person. Maybe she'd even be smart enough to solve his riddles in real time and track him down, or solve one of his death trap puzzles and get her own trophy.

Dinner was a quiet affair, her mother reminding her to pack her things light enough to load on the dolly and carry into the penthouse. Hannah smiling and nodding along because she was glad to have such supportive parents. "But Hannah dear, you must attend a few of Wayne's events if you can. Show that our family supports his causes of course." Hannah gave a tight smile. She hated the parties, she hated hearing whispers of how plain looking she was, how she had to be from money because why else would she be there? As she looked at her plate she thought of how Riddler wouldn't judge her for her plain looks. He'd see how brilliant she was. He wouldn't whisper behind her back like others did. "Yes mother. I'll be sure to attend a few charity events, but I will be busy with school." She looked pointedly at her parents, reminding them that for her the mind always came first.

Her father spoke up as he handed her a few pamphlets. "I also found some martial arts schools near where you'll live. Darling I know you've wanted to move to Gotham since you started highschool, but it's not safe and even with the driver we hired to take you to and from campus I'd like for you to be able to defend yourself if need be. There's also a few pamphlets for near the university if you'd like to be closer to school. It's entirely up to you. Just tell us who to write the check to honey."

Hannah smiled and looked up at him. "Thanks Daddy, that really means alot to me." She thought to herself as she ate. Should she search him out? Or just find and follow his riddles like Batman did and keep the knowledge to herself. A daring thought entered her head- what if she instead left riddles for him to find her? They'd have to be challenging, she'd have to prove how brilliant she really could be. She finished her dinner and left for her room, looking around the boxes and her eyes fell upon the Riddler trophy she built. Maybe if she left her own for him? They couldn't be green, but what about purple?

A plan started to form in her mind but first she needed to get to Gotham and start learning martial arts just in case. It never hurt to be prepared.

Two months later found her and the movers her parents hired carrying everything into her penthouse. She went to the second bedroom and started to set up her computer system as the movers placed all her boxes in the marked rooms. One of them stopped and stared in surprise as she started drilling into the wall to place the primary monitor and then proceeded to set up the other two monitors.

"That is an impressive looking set up there miss. Three monitors?" He gave a whistle. She felt slight annoyance he'd be checking out her computer instead of working.

"Thank you, I've built the computer into the desk so it was easier to set up." She went back to work, ignoring the worker who left the room. She grabbed her step-ladder and set up the fourth monitor and made sure to tilt it enough she could see while sitting down. Humming a song to herself she turned it on and started some system tests to make sure everything went well in the move. She had one monitor showing the diagnostics and knowing it would keep running and recording the data she left the room to check over the movers work. After they had brought the last thing up, the bed she thanked them for their help and tipped them before watching them all walk out of place.

She walked over to one of her boxes labeled BD#1 and opened it, giving a sigh of relief that everything was intact. She carefully pulled out the framed photo, the magazine cover from when he developed the award winning game, and newspaper clippings. She devotedly put up the framed picture of him smirking as he held his cane out. It had been a picture someone snapped of him facing off Batman. She placed near it the very first photo she hung up of him, his mugshot, then on the other side the magazine cover and surrounding it all clippings from the Gotham News and various articles mentioning him. She stood back when her work was done, smiling to herself. She's made it to Gotham, she was dual majoring in Computer Sciences and Business. Though she was only taking Business classes for her parents benefit though. She didn't want to take over the Realty Empire they had. She just wanted to meet The Riddler.

Hannah stepped back and sat down on her bed looking around the penthouse that would be her home for at least the next four or five years. She curled up on herself, arms wrapping her arms around her long legs. Her college orientation was tomorrow and she wondered if she'd make any friends here. She knew of course she'd get a few people trying to climb the ladder by being her friend, but those were easy to pick out. They never cared until they heard the 'Vanderbilt' name; that's when they perked up and started being kind to plain-jane Hannah. Usually her reading or asking of puzzles and spouting trivia facts made them leave her in the end. She looked up at her collage of Riddler clippings and memorabilia, she bet he'd answer her questions, solve the puzzles with her, and even respond to her with trivia of his own.

She smiled to herself, letting that warm hopeful feeling grow in her chest as she uncurled and started unpacking. She did make sure to pull out clothes for tomorrow. Deciding on her striped thigh highs, a pleated skirt, her green blouse and her gray sweater vest. She might get the usual Slytherin jokes, but while she'll happily wear her green and purple striped socks she wasn't sure on going completely in Riddlers colors.

The next morning she stood in front of her full length mirror, smoothing her hair one last time and wondering if she should have tried to do something to make herself look nicer. Her mother always thought the pigtails were cute on her. She gave a sigh and adjusted the book bag while looking over herself. A tall scrawny girl stared back in the mirror. Her face was 'too pale' as her mother put it, light brown hair, pale green eyes and to top it all off she had freckles covering most of her face. Once again she wondered if she should try to wear makeup but she didn't know the first thing about it. Her mother always paid for her to get her face and hair done for events. She pushed her green rectangle glasses back up her nose. She gave herself a forced smile and was glad for years of braces at least giving her nice teeth before exiting to the university.

The driver dropped her off with a nod and a smile, she gave him a wave and left to find her orientation group. She saw a couple that looked her age standing nearby. "I don't know why you have to go to this orientation Babs, you've lived here your whole life!"

"It's for students to find where they'll be going and learn more about the school Dick! Plus, you're not even attending, you're still finishing high school."

"Not every graduates early Babs."

The beautiful red head turned away from her boyfriend, Hannah felt intimidated just being near the couple. She blushed when the tan skinned blue eyed man saw her and gave a charming smile. The redhead looked back and gave a soft smile to Hannah. "Hi there! I'm Barbara Gordon, you're here for orientation too?" She walked up and gave a firm handshake.

Hannah sucked in a breath and really hoped she wasn't blushing too hard. "Hannah Vanderbilt, yes I am. I just moved into town yesterday." She gave a weak smile as she looked down at Barbara Gordon. "I'm studying computer sciences and business management, you?"

"Pre-law and computer sciences." Hannah sagged in relief at meeting someone else double majoring. Barbara turned and smirked at Dick. "See Dick? First person I meet is also double majoring. So take that." She looked back at Hannah and gave a small laugh. "Sorry, my boyfriend was making fun of me for double majoring. He says I don't have to prove myself, but we know all us girls have to, right?" She winked at Hannah.

Hannah was surprised, this beautiful woman was actually talking to her still? She was double majoring as well? She blinked and realized the two of them were still looking at her expecting a response. "I'm sorry, it's just that people have one of two reactions towards me and you've both given neither." She gave a short giggle and curled in on herself. "I'm a bit of a nerd and not even pretty so the fact that someone so pretty is still talking to me without even reacting to my last name is weird." She bit her lip as the two looked at each other.

Dick snapped his fingers, "Vanderbilt! Bruce has worked with your parents before. I thought it sounded familiar." He looked her over. "Being a nerd isn't bad. My little brother Tim's the biggest nerd I know." He turned and gave Barbara a kiss on the cheek. "See you later Babs. Let me know how it all goes." He waved towards Hannah and gave another smile as she blushed.

"Come on Hannah, let's find our orientation group. Maybe since we're both computer sciences we'll be grouped together." Barbara guided Hannah to one of the orientation leaders, taking faster steps to keep up the four inches of height difference.

"So um Barbara, I heard you say you live in Gotham? Are there any martial arts dojos you recommend? My parents wanted me to study one for general safety." She threw back her hair and laughed. "You just asked the daughter of the police commissioner about general safety. Yeah I can recommend a few. There's also a women's self defence class my dad makes me go to."

-- She'd done it, she solved one of Riddler's riddles and gotten there in time. Months of following the leads, of finding and solving the puzzles to collect his trophies, this was her moment! When she snuck in she saw Riddler fighting Batman and had to hold her hands over her mouth. He was beautiful, he moved fluidly and quipped at Batman while fighting, mocking his ability to solve his puzzles without help. She saw Batgirl jump in to fight as well.

She couldn't fight back the anger that welled up inside her. "No cheating allowed on Quizzes!" She shouted as she jumped in and blocked a kick Batgirl had aimed at Riddler. He gave her a puzzled glance and went back to his fight while Batman ignored her. She focused on Batgirl and the two of them fought against each other. Hannah was trying to move the two of them away from Batman and Riddler.

"Who are you and why are you defending this creep?" Batgirl's voice sounded familiar. Hannah blocked a punch and kicked her in the stomach while moving back to keep a distance. She knew the mask and makeup she applied hid her face, this girl wouldn't figure her out. She was glad she'd been getting herself used to moving around and fighting in combat boots. It was very different than in a dojo. She was also glad she'd put on her purple leggings under her green skirt as opposed to her usual thigh highs. Batgirl was making her do some high kicks and rolls during this fight. "You're obviously not officially with him. That's a homemade costume! Who wears a skirt while fighting?"

Hannah grinned as she grabbed Batgirl's cape during a roll and pulled her down hard. "Who wears a cape while crime fighting? The Scarlet Pimpernel surely didn't, written in 1905 by Baroness Emma Orczy." She jumped back while Batgirl pulled herself up, "She had the sense to write a masked vigilante without a cape."

"Trivia? Really during a fight?" Batgirl almost caught a hit on Hannah when she decided to try a new move she had seen recently in a movie. She dropped to the ground and swung her leg out while spinning in a circle. She made sure to keep the leg above the ground so Batgirl couldn't jump over it. She ended up being knocked down and hitting her head. Hannah paused, lightly massaging her leg while waiting to see if Batgirl would get up. She didn't and Hannah knelt by her to check her pulse while making sure she wasn't bleeding.

Satisfied Batgirl would be alright she ran over to where Riddler was starting to lose his fight with Batman. "Need a player two?" She asked while knocking aside a fist Batman had aimed for Riddler's head.

"If you can be obliged." She tried to fight back against Batman, but his punches and kicks were a lot harder than Batgirls. Hannah quickly learned she couldn't block against him, she had to evade or redirect his blows. She got a lucky shot in against Batman and made him step back. Riddler used the moment to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her with him as he ran for an escape. "Time to bid you adieu Batman!" She felt her heart racing as he pulled her along. This was her moment, she was finally meeting The Riddler. She had actually helped him fight against both Batman and Batgirl.

She felt herself gasping for air by the time they stopped and he pulled her behind a pillar. He placed a gloved hand over her mouth to keep her silent as they heard someone running past them. She closed her eyes to burn this feeling in her memory. Her back against Riddler's chest, his arm heavy around her waist and pulling her close, the softness of his leather glove as he held it over her mouth. She could feel his heart racing as well. They stayed like that for a minute before he let go of her.

This was the moment, this was her idol, he was standing right in front of her and she couldn't think of a proper opening sentence. "You have me today. Tomorrow you'll have more; as your time passes, I'm not easy to store. I don't take up space, but I'm only in one place; I am what you saw, but not what you see. What am I?" Her face was flushed as he laughed, throwing his head back and placing one hand on his chest.

"Why memories my little Quizlet." He gave that roguish smirk she'd only seen in pictures and on tv, it made her knees tremble. "Is this one you never want to forget?" Hannah just nodded, her throat tight and she knew even through all the makeup he could probably see her blush.

"I-" Speak hannah speak! "I've admired you for years Mr. Riddler." She wanted to slap herself, did she really just say that?

He looked a touch surprised and gave her a soft smile. "So you strived to become as intelligent as me? You make a costume and actually came looking for me?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, she could feel the warmth through his glove and her blouse. "I liked your entrance. Very impressive." She wondered if there was blood anywhere in her body except her face. "Come on little Quizlet. You should head home." She felt cold, he didn't want her? She was sure the disappointment was evident as he gave another soft smile. "Of course I shall have to escort you to ensure your safety." She smiled at him.

"Of course, that seems like the logical conclusion to all of this." She looked around where they were and sighed in defeat. "I've gotten turned around and have no idea where we are sadly. I used a map to get to your location."

"Well I know Gotham very well, just tell me the adress." When she told him he raised an eyebrow. "Little rich girl too? That's an expensive area." She bit her lip and blushed in shame, he couldn't be like everyone else, could he?

"That's all anyone sees me as. They don't see my brain." He moved her out to the street with his hand still on her shoulder and guided her several blocks to a simple looking sedan before climbing in the driver's side. She walked around and sat down in the passenger seat, looking down at her hands. She failed somehow, he didn't see her intellect and passion. She was still plain-jane Hannah, even if he kept calling her Quizlet.

"Riddle me this little Quizlet, what can travel around the world yet stay in one spot?"

"Easy, a stamp." She gave a smile, "You use a knife to slice my head and weep beside me when I am dead.”

"Onion of course. How do you make seven even with adding, subtracting, multiplying, or dividing?"

She gave a small laugh, "Drop the S." She looked from her lap to his face, she could only see his profile but he was beautiful, he was smiling now and she loved it. "What has a foot on each side and one in the middle?"

"Yardstick. Marking mortal privation, when firmly in place. An enduring summation, inscribed in my face."

"Tombstone." She couldn't look away from him and glanced up at his hair escaping from the bowler cap. "I move very slowly at an imperceptible rate, although I take my time, I am never late. I accompany life, and survive past demise, I am viewed with esteem in many women's eyes. What am I?"

He glanced over at her at a red light and gave a smirk. She was glad to be sitting still because her knees felt even weaker and she felt so warm. "Would that be hair?" She gave a small nod. They drove in silence with her looking between him and her hands. He smirked to himself noticing her ears and neck were red, her face wasn't because of all that makeup caked on to hide her appearance. He wanted to laugh at the Questionmark she had placed on one cheek. It was so childishly adorable. They pulled up to the building and she thanked him and he decided to press his luck. "Aren't I invited in?"

She stumbled out of the car when he asked that, stuttering over her words. "O-Oh! Of cou- of course you are. I didn't- sure? Yeah." She coughed into her fist and cleared her throat, taking a deep breath. "Of course you are Riddler." She gave a smile, trying to regain that confidence she had when fighting Batgirl. He stepped out of his car and walked up to her, noticing how he barely needed to look down to meet her eyes. Now that he really looked, they were a pale green. "Is there a way in without being seen?" He looked over the building, both hands behind his back as he rocked on his heels.

"Only for me." She reached into her blouse and pulled out a small ring before walking up to an elevator. "It's a private entrance to my place." She bent down to place it against the scanner and after a single beep the doors opened. They both stepped inside and he gave a nod of appreciation as it went straight up without her needing to hit any buttons.

"Fancy. So little Quizlet. Why did you jump in on the fight?" His bright green eyes were piercing as he looked down at her. He had a slight frown and she took a step back from the intensity of his gaze.

"Two on one is cheating. They were cheating!" She felt her hands make fists and could hear the blood rushing in her ears. "I hate when people cheat! If Batman really could defeat you himself he wouldn't need Batgirl to sneak up on you! He wouldn't need his gadgets! He shouldn't need help if he was really a worthy rival for you!" She was yelling. She couldn't believe she'd just yelled at her idol. Her hands quickly covered her mouth before she said anything else.

His frown softened into a neutral expression as he looked back towards the doors. "Interesting." The doors opened and he walked into her penthouse. Hannah followed him into her own place, her head hung down in shame. "You should change out of that costume Quizlet. I want to see who you really are."

She nodded and quickly walked into a room off to the side. While she scrubbed off the make up and cried to herself he looked around the livingroom. It felt barely lived in. There was a couch, a coffee table and a tv. No pictures of friends or family, no trinkets, just the bare minimum. He walked over to the kitchen, a bowl with only a few pieces of fruit sitting on a countertop, a mug placed next to a bottle of pills. He picked up the bottle and looked at it.

"Hannah Vanderbilt, cyproheptadine, Initial dose: 2 mg orally four times a day, may increase gradually over 3 weeks to 8 mg orally four times a day. Hmm. Didn't take her for an anorexic." He looked over the kitchen and turned back to the main room, opening and looking in the other room. He paused in surprise at the screens and computer setup. One showed a red dot moving in a map of Gotham before it went out, another screen showed the CPU usage and a basic computer check up, the third screen was the internet with tabs open for homework, he looked over at the fourth screen and it showed an excel document listing his past crime locations and how close she had gotten. He gave a chuckle to himself at that one.

He looked around the dimly lit room, realizing the color was green he looked in a corner and saw a row of shelving with ten riddler trophies on it. He was shocked, he thought Batman was the only one out there collecting the trophies to stop the bombs from going off and assumed he was somehow cheating to get so many. He turned when more light entered the room and saw the little Quizlet, Hannah standing at the doorway.

"I wanted to prove I could be as smart as you. So I decided to start collecting the trophies. I wanted to leave my own and try to get you to notice me, but-" She paused and nervously twisted one foot on the floor. "I was too scared to." He looked at her, really looked at her and simply stated, "Yet you jumped into a fight with no issue?"

"I was angry. She was going to hurt you." She flipped the light switch on and glanced at the top monitor. "Oh, I guess he found my tracking device." She walked over to him slowly. He noticed she was pale and very thin for her height. She kept her face towards the ground but he saw the freckles covering it and had looked into her pale green eyes earlier. She was wearing a tanktop and a pair of waist high shorts with thigh high socks. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at the colors.

"They actually make purple and green striped socks?"

"I custom ordered them. Most of my clothing is custom made." He walked over to meet her, placing a gloved hand under her chin.

"Look at me when you speak." Her head snapped up and he could see those pale eyes widen. She gave a small nod and he circled her, looking over her. He took off a glove and felt her light brown hair. "You don't take care of yourself. You are much too thin and your hair is dry."

She gave a sigh and narrowed her eyes at him. "My mother's said the same thing for years. I'm sure a man as intelligent as you has noticed the medication on my counter. They hope it'll increase my appetite and remind me to eat. I'm not anorexic, I'm not too thin, and yes my hair is always dry!"

He placed one finger on her chest and pushed her lightly as he walked out of the room, forcing her to step backwards. "You will start drinking nutritional supplements if only to help you from losing weight with the martial arts you are obviously still taking." She pursed her lips. "It was obvious from the way you and Batgirl fought. She's a student in your class, there were moments you two dropped into forms during the fight." He chuckled to himself. "Although I did like how you yanked her down with her cape. Well played. Though she will learn from that now."

"I know damn well who she is. I figured it out easily." She placed one hand back and pushed against him to keep from falling over the couch.

"Good. Keep that puzzle to yourself, you never know when it'll come in handy." "I'm sure she figured out who I was, but I won't be positive until I see her in class tomorrow." He looked at her and saw the bruises forming from blocking Batman's punches. She looked at them as well. "I wear sweaters or longsleeved blouses all the time to begin with. Hiding the bruising won't be an issue Riddler."

She gave a sigh and moved to sit on the couch. He sat down on the arm and placed his feet on the cushion next to her. He saw the small quirk of her lips, not the usual rich girl then. "By the way, as I'm sure you saw on the pill bottle. My name is Hannah Vanderbilt. I'm not entirely sure my parents would pay if you kidnapped me which is why I don't mind you knowing I'm an heiress."

"Surely they care enough about you to supply you with this penthouse and all the funds necessary." He leaned forward and rested one arm on his knee. "Or is it because they know you're doing this?"

She looked deep in thought for a moment then sighed. "Follow me." She stood up and began walking towards her bedroom. He took a second to follow her, wondering what exactly was going on now. She opened the door and he looked around the room, his eyes locking on one of the walls. It was almost a shrine to himself. "This is all they know." He slowly walked towards it. A framed magazine of him as Edward Nashton, hailing his video game, a framed copy of the game itself alongside it. His very first mugshot, newspaper clippings of articles mentioning him, pictures of him. It was all shocking. He backed up and sat down on her bed, just staring at the wall. Near the collage was a corkboard filled with riddles, reading them he realized they were the one's he's publicly used. His morse code riddle was even there. She sat down next to him. "You inspired me to become more. This wall, it's your transformation into something great, something legendary and looking at it reminds me I can become more. I can use my brain to prove myself."

"I'm honestly shocked." He jumped slightly when she placed her hand over his.

"What are you-" She cut him off by placing a hand on his face.

"You're even more amazing in person. Seeing the way you move, those smiles you give. I have a feeling you could have any woman you wanted."

He regained his mental footing and moved her hand from his face, he still held it, unsure of where to put her hand. It was all surprising. "Now Hannah. Think of what you're trying to do." He thought back to the bottle and her date of birth on it. "You are 19, I'm in my 30's. We have a rather large age gap. I'm a wanted criminal, you have your whole life ahead of you and so many possibilities I never could have had. Why do you want to throw it all away?"

Her eyes watered up and she pulled her hands away to wrap them around her knees. "Validation. I had hoped you would look past my name, look past the fact that I'm a plain-jane, and see me for my mind." She sniffled and rubbed her eye. "I don't know, I had this stupid childish thought you'd meet me and become enamoured by my intellect. We could trade riddles back and forth like in the car and you wouldn't mind my spouting of trivia. I even thought that we could have something romantic."

He gave a sigh and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone is disappointed when they meet their idol. I may not be enamoured by you, but I am impressed. You did a good job out there tonight. I really did love the no cheating on quizzes line. Fit perfectly."

She looked to him. "Where do we go from here? I'm a criminal now, aren't I? You don't want someone like me holding you back, and I never planned past this moment."

He squeezed her shoulder. "You're only a criminal if you get caught, and Batgirl can't implicate you without implicating herself. You are safe. I'm the only criminal in this room. As for what to do from here? If you really want to prove yourself, stick to your studies."

"I'm a dual major with a 4.0 average. I actually already earned my associate degree in high school through dual enrollment." He could see her hands turn into fists, the knuckles turning white. "It's never enough for those fucking socialites! I'm so sick of them all judging me for my looks over my intellect." He just pulled her against his chest in a hug.

"People like those never matter. They're mere ants, nothing worth your time." He patted her on the back and she sat back up, wiping away silent tears. "Take the nutritional supplements, they and a proper diet will help your appearance. Skin and bones only works for Scarecrow."

"They won't change pale eyes, a bland hair color, or all these freckles."

He looked back at the many pictures and articles on the wall. "There's one thing never mentioned in those articles. My parents, but only one is worth mentioning right now. As I'm sure you know I'm a natural redhead, even though I've colored my hair several times." He flicked his eyes over to hers and saw her nod. "My mother was Irish. I got my red hair and green eyes from her. What I didn't get were her freckles, sure I've got a few, but she had a face full of them like you do. She used to call them 'Angel kisses'." He paused and looked over at the 19 year old. "I always wondered as a kid why she would cover up so many kisses from The Angels. Of course I never realized it was just something said to make people feel better."

She gave a laugh. "It made me feel better. Thanks Riddler." She stood up and looked at the costume she had hanging in the closet. "So, Quizlet's retired for now?"

He stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "For now. Graduate first, schmooze with the elite and see if you can survive their world. Also if your hair bothers you that much, just color it." He turned her towards her full length mirror and placed his head on her shoulder pulling some of his hair over her face, "How about a nice auburn?" They both laughed and she smiled at him. "I'll see myself out, but take care of yourself. Graduate college, then we'll talk." He put his hat back on and replaced the glove he had in his pocket. "I suppose you do deserve an award for doing such a good job at your first attempt." He turned and gave her a smirk, it grew when he saw her face turn red. "Also, keep collecting those trophies. Use them as proof you're a good guy if you get caught." He placed his fingers under her chin and pulled her the few inches forward to kiss her.

"Goodbye for now Hannah." She stood there in surprise as he walked away and into the elevator.

"Goodbye Riddler." She smiled to herself and did a little dance as she skipped back to her bedroom. "What a night!" She tossed herself back on the bed. She giggled to herself and placed her hand on her lips. "My first kiss, from the Riddler! Wow." She sat back up and looked over at the costume, frowning. "If I know who Batgirl is, she has to have figured out who Quizlet was." She stood up and looked it over, taking the hanger off of the closet door and hiding it far in the back, behind all the evening gowns and shawls her mother insisted on her having. "I'll show the whole world who Hannah Vanderbuilt can really be. Then I can take up Quizlet again." -- Years later she got to see him in person, he was standing in the crowd as she stood next to Barbara Gordon, the two of them sharing a valedictorian speech. They'd both gotten 4.5 GPA with their dual majors and even separate internships. He gave her a smile and a nod, which she returned as she watched him turn and walk away. They both knew she'd don on a new costume soon.

She wondered if Enigma was a better title than Quizlet.

#my fanfiction #Obsession #edward nygma #riddler #the riddler #Batman #Batgirl

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flexgallery · 7 years

Photo

Flex Gallery and the work of Amanda Carmer In response to a lack of public art opportunities during winter, on January 11th, I launched Flex Gallery, a mobile public art space located on my left arm. For the project, I sent canvas armbands to six artists, requesting they turn them into artworks. Each artist works in a wide variety of media, and I provided them with no themes or limitations other than the dimensions of the band. Last month for two weeks, I wore the work of Amanda Carmer, a local artist and curator who currently runs Wallless. I spoke with her last week to learn more about her work and creative process. Zachary Johnson (ZJ): How long have you been working with photo collage and how did you get started with it? Amanda Carmer (AC): I graduated from Kendall in May of 2014 with an MFA with a focus in photography. [After that] I had whole year of not making anything, and then in summer of 2015, I started doing this. It started because I had boxes upon boxes of photographs, mostly digital prints that had been half started or failed projects that I just didn’t have the heart to throw away. So I started cutting them up and redoing them and then in some cases painting over certain areas. That’s how this all started. ZJ: So then what did your work look like when you were in school? AC: I was really traditional. Even though a lot of them are digital prints, the original images were shot on film and them scanned digitally. My thesis, the body of work that I showed for my exhibition when I graduated, was a combination of three types of work – it got pretty complicated, which is another reason why I do these fairly straightforward collages now. I [showed] large-format black and white portraits of my family members [as well as] black and white photographs where I purposely distressed the negatives. Those were environmental images of my mom’s house and some landscape work where the landscape was standing in for various relationships and psychological spaces. Then [I also had] photograms that were processed kind of strangely. They essentially looked like pink shadows or the inverse of a shadow, so the positive space was white and the surrounding area was a mauvish color. ZJ: If you were to do your thesis now, how do you think it would be different? AC: I probably would still be looking at my family members and our relationships to one another, but I most likely would be using more or this collage style. I’d deliberately be going in and altering faces and bodies and planting them in those environments, rather than keeping all of the formats separate. I would probably mash it all together. ZJ: So you have this mixed background. I know you from Craft House initially and you’re an artist as well, but when I was looking through your information and saw that you originally studied art education. So, how do all of these strands come together for you? AC: The best way to answer that is to put it in context of my job. First, you have to picture a room full of 16-17-year-olds in an art class. So they’re pretty into art, but they don’t know a lot. Every now and then when I’m doing a high school presentation, I’m talking about Kendall and our application process and some kind of ornery high school student will ask, “What do you do? What makes you have the authority on this thing?” So I’ll get to pull up my website and talk about how I started out studying art ed, and I taught elementary art. And then I really wanted to feel a greater connection to the art world and a community of artists, so I moved to Chicago and went to Columbia for a little while and then pursued an MFA. I’ll mention the curatorial stuff that I was doing in graduate school as well. [Those things] really do come together in a position like admissions for art school. Sometimes it sounds like a bit of a stretch, but I get to kind of teach, I get to talk about art all the time, and in a weird way I’m helping pick and choose what students are going to come to Kendall, so that’s a bit curatorial. I’ve just serendipitously found these different paths to wind up where I am now. So, I never set out thinking, “oh, I want to be in higher ed” …it sort of happened that way. And I wish that I had more time to make, and more time to look at art, and write about art at a professional level, but I try to supplement that with seeing exhibitions when I’m out recruiting in different cities and the blog that I write. ZJ: So you had Craft House and now you’re running Wallless. What’s your interest with Wallless and what’s the general premise of it? AC: When I closed Craft House, a couple months went by, and I thought I needed to find a way to force myself to stay engaged in looking at art, writing about art, and thinking about it locally. So it’s my way to do that. I committed personally to myself to do it for at least a year, once a month. The intention was to look at what’s happening in West Michigan in terms of artists that aren’t represented anywhere major. But also when I closed Craft House, there was still a handful of artists whose work I didn’t show enough of or would have liked to show more of, so I’ve gotten to explore their work a bit more through the blog. And it’s also a really simple way to do something that feels productive, which I like. ZJ: So as far as the armband, you’ve created, your artist statement talked about your interest in storytelling and its function and mechanics. How do those interests play out in this armband specifically? AC: When I look at all of my work together, my interest in storytelling and dissecting how we tell stories encompasses everything. It’s a way for me to talk about the different bodies of work that I’ve done that feel really different visually in a way that brings them all together. But what the current work is doing is mashing up imagery in a way that is connected in simple compositional terms. There’s directional movement and a bit of balance in there and sometimes repetition, but otherwise the imagery is not connected. You have to just piece it together on your own. So in that sense, I’m interested in telling stories in a way that’s very much choose-your-own-adventure. The really long, stretched out format of the armband was really a challenge. I had it laying flat, and I was testing out all of these different arrangements and then I would remind myself that you’re not going to see all of it at once. That completely changed my choice. ZJ: Oh yeah. I think the in-the-round aspect of the armband is the biggest challenge for the many of the artists who’ve made work for Flex Gallery. Last question, can you think of something in your life that was particularly visually striking? AC: Large open expanses of water with nothing on the other side – when you just have a horizon line of water and sky. That’s the first thing that pops into my brain. Looking out of the window of an airplane feels similar – when there’s a super different perspective on something that feels like it should be familiar. A landscape seen at that distance feels completely different. My favorite thing is a combination of those two – when you fly into a place that has a giant body of water next to it and you get to see both. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Posts by Zachary Johnson are also available via instagram under the name Vis Ed.

#public art #michiganart #michiganartist #kcal

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