Art is a refuge from the busy hive of activity…and I’m lifted.
Sometimes I even float.
A fleeting instant, the diver coming up for air.
Archive for the ‘Ink’ Category
Chagall and Krishna {all the rest is white noise}
Posted in art, Art Journaling, art,poetry,writing, Digital Drawing, Ink, poetry, Quotes, sketchbook, sketching on January 25, 2020| Leave a Comment »
After the Angel { From The Logorrheic, and I’m on a different playlist }
Posted in art,poetry,writing, Coffee, Collage, Cures for the Nothing, digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, Graphite, Ink, Poetry, Quotes, sketchbook, writing, tagged Coffee, Drawing, Love, poem, Poetry, romanticism, sketch, Tree, william wordsworth on September 29, 2018| 1 Comment »
Butterfly Closures (a type of band-aid for deep cuts and stitches sold in the U.S). Mixed media on paper, ink and graphite. Better Buzz Coffee Roasters, Mission Beach, San Diego. September 22, 2018
The belief that women talk too much is rooted in the understanding that women should be silent. “The talkativeness of women has been gauged in comparison not with men but with silence,” is how well-known feminist Dale Spender explained her reasoning in her book Man Made Language written decades ago. “Women have not been judged on the grounds of whether they talk more than men, but of whether they talk more than silent women.”
Emily Peck
This is another novella.
“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.”
William Wordsworth
…
Angel comes from the Greek angelos, the messenger, the sent one.
Who more than the poets can speak about love?
-she said I contain worlds-
after six days his kisses stopped
he who told me all my no’s became yes’s
he who brought the wind
he who said I talked too much
-but could not spell-
and taught me to stay
by being the one who left.
“Never gift a book to someone who doesn’t understand vowels.”
I’m just removing the pebbles I’ve had in my shoes for two months, yes tonight- yes he was sweet, boiling ice. Yes he was heartless.
It’s the light in your eyes I cling on to save me
-or distract me-
my fallacy
the shine of yet another city – and i am the magpie with butterfly wings.
Of eyes i like when they tighten to focus like the lens of a camera
a mind is sometimes a beautiful forest, and layered people
a cosmos
he was my mirror, but you are on the other side of this screen
I have been running for seven years
but i was never more beautiful than the night we first went out – that glow was hope.
Seven years is what it takes for all cells in the body to renew
therefore in November I am, molecularly, a whole different person than the one she knew.
In July the old woman asked me why I was not married.
“God has to send me an an angel.” I replied. “An angel.”
We made fire in August. Consume.
We were southern blood, I was like sea.
To suffer for love is the greatest privilege.
In the morning the sun would wake me up by warming my feet; at one the vendors made their way back from the beach. We passed black bodies picking tomatoes in the fields of Sardinia.
They started pulling the umbrellas from the sand in the clubs in September. The light in the house was always crepuscular, like Tara in Gone With The Wind.
I guess it boils down to a lack of belief, a lack of patience
I am impetuous, and impulsive – female like guerra
if two pieces in a puzzle are too much alike, they don’t lock
I never thought your tattoos could cut me
I followed their path : they taught me the root of the word “seduction”
your eyes stopped seeing me, and it felt like violence.
Poetry is making pain elegant, and writing with broken hands.
Cruelty is not giving the beautiful words you say you have- to someone who lives by them. Mercy is never knowing when the last time comes.
“What we initially fall in love with is what hurts us the most in the end; he dressed really well, he was early, and his hair spelled trouble.”
I ran away to the ease of palmtrees and terracotta tiles (a cop-out)
because you cannot heal where you got sick – and I know you take yourself wherever you go, but 7,000 miles in between help.
They say it’s enough if only one of the two loves
and we know that i’m in love with the feeling,
the person is just an excuse.
it is not you who i missed- but what came with you;
I belong to freedom, and my art.
I steal words from my travels.
I can tell you in real life (IRL) men do not come in the middle of the night to tell you they don’t want to lose you- no matter how pretty or intelligent you are. nothing is fought for any more, and stories end for a nothing, for fear, on cloudy mondays.
Poets are one soul in the end, share one collective heart
the only ones who are not ashamed of being publicly immolated
but on the contrary, they show their wounds to the sun
they never explain them
– and that’s how they heal.
Summer 2018 { A Postcard from Calabria }
Posted in art,poetry,writing, Collage, Graphite, Ink, sketchbook, tagged Calabria, dolcevita, home, Italia, Italy, Love, summer on September 26, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Ink and graphite on hand.book paper. Sardinia, August 5, 2018.
Travel and tell no one,
live a true love story and tell no one,
live happily and tell no one,
people ruin beautiful things.
Kahlil Gibran
Jazz, Amelie, Architecture & Art { Spring Summary}
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Drawing, Graphic Design, Graphite, Ink, Los Angeles Diaries, Music, Painting, Quotes, school, sketchbook, sketching, wanderlust, Watercolor, tagged Drawing, experiments, ink art, napkin sketches, sketches, Sketches App, Tayasui, watercolor markers, Yann Tiersen on June 30, 2018| 1 Comment »
Digital drawing done on IPhone 7 Plus with Sketches app by Tayasui. June 27, 2018.
Napkin Sketch for fundraiser auction; poem La Ciudad by Octavio Paz. Fountain ink on Napkin paper. April 2018.
Yann Tiersen in concert at the Theatre at the Ace Hotel in Los Angeles, June 20, 2018.
Quick sketch using colored pencil and pastels. June 30, 2018.
My corner in the plaza of the Getty Villa in Los Angeles. June 2018.
One more post before the month is done.
This Spring was filled with intensity in and outside of my University.. the final stretch of the school year. Accelerated timelines, accelerated heartbeat. Stealing time between deadlines to go up to LA once more for a life-changing Yann Tiersen concert ( of Amelie fame), participate to sketching and art+Jazz events and jot down few lines to be shared later (after all, poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity).
Stealing time from time… to be and to feel alive. Sketching (almost) everyday is doing wonders for my spirit- and glow!
Single reader, I hope you have time to disconnect and renew. Happy Summer.
Café Chloe Confessional
Posted in art,poetry,writing, Coffee, Ink, Quotes, sketching, The Situationist Internationale, tagged cafe chloe, cafe', journal, san diego, sketching on December 5, 2017| 3 Comments »
One has to start somewhere…
After finishing my sketch I ran into two dear friends who had come to the cafe.
Perhaps the cafés can be the new piazzettas somehow.
Here’s to spontaneous gathering and holiday cheers.
A Love Letter to Mexico {City}
Posted in Architectural Photography, Architecture, art, art,poetry,writing, Coffee, Design, Drawing, Ink, Mexico Lindo y Querido, Photography, Poetry, Quotes, sketchbook, Traveling, wanderlust, writing, tagged Ciudad de México, Cuernavaca, DF, Drawing, Hablo De La Ciudad, Jardines De Mexico, mexico, Mexico City, Octavio Paz on November 28, 2017| 2 Comments »
The French poet Paul Valéry said that all things are generated from an interruption. I learned this from my favorite Italian thinker, Alessandro Baricco, here in en español, whose lectures – to be found only in Italian – I listen to to learn about literature, writing, and life.
There were many interruptions this year, and not just personal. I can think of the devastating Hurricane Irma in my beloved, beautiful Puerto Rico, or the September 19 earthquake in my favorite city this side of the Atlantic, Ciudad De México – which occurred on the 32nd Anniversary of an earthquake that killed more that 10.000 people.
My personal earthquake and hurricane happened on August 21 of this year, when my dad passed away. I can now finally begin to write this sentence, and about it, without being swallowed up in the chasm that this loss left in my life. I know his spirit went back to his sea, where he returned, and I feel he is near, both inside my heart and dancing around in freedom and light. I like to think I can take him with me wherever I go now, and share my life in a more immediate way. I like to think his energy was transformed into waves of the sea. The sea can hug you, yet you can’t hug the sea, his immensity. I like to think he is in a butterfly, sometimes in a song. A friend of mine wrote “I heard your dad went back to the Universe”. I like that.
My dad loved the Old Man and The Sea, drawing boats and fish, Jonathan Seagull, reading, Venice, watching documentaries on nature, fishing, and working on his boat. He loved his friends and he loved me. He is the reason art is in my life. He is the reason I read One Hundred Years of Solitude in middle school (I used to raid the books of his youth unbeknownst to both my parents). It became my favorite book, it still is, and magical realism, anarchy and arcane literary worlds shaped who I am.
I thought about coming back to SketchBloom with a post on Van Gogh, and the film Loving Vincent, which I saw this month. The movie reminded me of my dad, of his love of painting, his simple bedroom , and his fisherman shack on the beach, La Baracca Del Bucaniere, which he lovely composed for the last ten years of his life here on the Earth school.
That post is in the pipeline, and I took new photos of his sculpture when I was last in Calabria – but I wanted to return with a sketch, a return to art.
I just got back from Mexico (that is how the locals call it, Mexico…no need to use “Ciudad de”) yesterday, where I finally got over my protracted artist’s block.
Here, a simple sketch (above) and some photos/vignettes/stories I bring back from my trip.
Walking in Coyoacán – Frida’s neighborhood:
Scenes from Roma, one of the neighborhoods of DF:
Ꮬ
This is Barba Azul, a cabaret from another era, where salsa is danced from midnight till dawn, where there is an altar upstairs (I have seen them in parking lots, too) and where the exit is a tiny rectangle carved into a decorated garage door- something out Pinocchio’s Paese dei Balocchi (toyland)…or a circus in a Fellini movie. One of the many surreal vignettes of this metropolis.
Unfortunately I could not take a better photo of it (with the usher emerging!) but it is on my list for next time. I also learned about the ficheras , the ladies of the establishment who sell a dance for a token (and more, at their discretion).
The obligatory photo of the Palacio De Bellas Artes, November 2017 version:
Where I had the chance to see Diego Rivera’s murals…
…and learn about the Rojo Mexicano (the red pigment from cochinilla bugs found inside the cactus fruits in Oaxaca, which was utilized in paintings around the world from the XV Century to the XIX) and see Van Gogh’s Bedroom At Arles with my own eyes (!!!).
Ꮬ
I also visited Cuernavaca, La Ciudad de la Eterna Primavera (The City of the Eternal Spring), where i completed my yearly self-evaluation for #work in a garden within Jardines de Mexico, surrounded by butterflies. Talk about INSPIRING.
Italian Garden at Jardines De Mexico (my favorite, obv)
In Cuernavaca, I stayed in a copy of Unité d’Habitacion (but if you follow me on Instagram you already know this).
Ꮝ
I want to close with a poem by Octavio Paz — who is considered the greatest Mexican poet and thinker — and, of course, was a native of Mexico City.
This is his poem Hablo de la Ciudad | I Speak of the City. Below the text in the original Spanish and the translation in English.
This poem perfectly encapsulates what Mexico City is. I have more posts on La Ciudad to craft, from my previous visits, and more poetry- but this shall suffice for tonight.
Here is to more gentle earthquakes and hurricanes in 2018, inner ones to bring soul renewals, and to a kinder year.
For the Aztecs, this was the bellybutton of the Moon.
Nos vemos pronto, Tenochtitlán.
September in Little Italy, San Diego
Posted in art,poetry,writing, Drawing, Graphite, Ink, sketchbook, tagged california, Drawing, Little Italy, Piazza Basilone, Plen air sketching, Rendering, san diego on November 7, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Piazzetta Basilone e Civico 1845. Little Italy, San Diego. Graphite, ink, and marker. September 2016.
Cafés, Books and Roses {and a poem to Tijuana}
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Books, Coffee, Collage, digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, Digital Manipulation, Experiments, Ink, Mexico Lindo y Querido, Photography, Poetry, San Diego, sketching, Tijuana Diaries, tagged café bassam, cafe lulu, cafe', collages, poem to tijuana, Reading, rose, san diego, sketches on June 15, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Cafe'-inspired ink drawing and collage. San Diego, June 2016
Café Lulu, Sun and Moon. San Diego, Gaslamp Quarter, June 2016.
The Reader. Café Bassam. San Diego, June 2016.
Rosa de Tijuana 1/15 . June 2016.
A Mi Tijuana
Milton Ríos
Spanish | English
La olvidada, la 100 por ciento criticada!..
A la que puedes dar mil opiniones sobre ella
La única que es coherente con su equilibrio
Entre las cosas buenas y malas!
La ciudad malvada… la maravillada,
La llena de narcos!
Artistas, multicolores y muchos tantos…
Esta ciudad… ciudad de paso
Y paso a ser mía,
Mi ciudad! Mi metrópoli confundida
Ayer la mas violenta
Hoy el ejemplo de paz!
Pero solo en mi Tijuana se puede vivir esto!
Balazos, teatro… buena música, cineastas en acción
El party el revolución! La que ya no es nada
Por que nació la calle 6ta.
Donde se junta lo subterráneo,
Las culturas urbanas, donde no ahí negros ni blancos!
Ni mexicanos ni gringos…
lo que importa es la noche bohemia,
algo de baile y alcohol
que viva la diversión…
la ciudad de segunda!
De segundas oportunidades
Donde caen los deportados
Donde comen y duermen los emigrados,
Donde se respira libertad
Donde ahí policías buenos y malos!
Y aquí te preguntas? Para que ir al otro lado…
Si acaso nomas de compras,
a conocer lo bien planeado.
Pero para dormir a gusto! Para respirar a diario…
Con la adrenalina constante,
De Tijuana ahí que ser amante.
Y así a donde vallas al decir soy de Tijuana
Obtendrás ese silencio! Que es un silencio ganado
De respeto por que para criticar Tijuana
Solo nosotros los que la vivimos
Los que la hemos hecho nuestra
Y ser tijuanense, claro que satisface
Pero también pesa y cuesta!…
An XRay of My Brain {Five Years Later and Writer Update}
Posted in Architecture, art,poetry,writing, Artuesdays, Berkeley Diaries, Books, Collage, Design, Digital Collage, digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, Essay, Graphic Design, Graphite, Ink, Jewelry, Jewelry and Accessory Design, Le flâneur, Lectures, Photography, Portfolio of Work, Research, San Diego, School Work, sketching, Traveling, Urban Design, Writing, tagged Abstract, architecture academic research, documentation, Faculty Board, faculty portfolio, narrative, Pedagogy, publishing, storage cities, teaching on March 23, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Hello Stranger!
In case you are wondering what happened to me and why I’ve gone M.I.A during the month of February and most of March, the board above is one of the reasons. As it happened in 2010,
our school underwent an enormous accreditation visit, which meant preparing for months collecting, documenting and providing evidences.
One of the best things to come out of the work leading to the Accreditation was that Faculty was once more asked to prepare a record of what we have been doing – outside of teaching- the past five years.
It is a monumental task to audit, select and curate five years of life, work, art – yet I welcome the chance to take stock of where I have been, for it points to where I want to go. This process of self-evaluation is a privilege not afforded to many professions, and I was thankful for the challenge.
We were also asked to write a brief narrative. I worked on this more hours than I care to admit and I am happy to now share this with you: words, drawings and travel photography — some of which hasn’t been seen here yet! Hope you enjoy it.
“The French writer Daniel Pennac describes the notion of the passeur, of the ‘transmitter’, as intimately connected to the ownership of culture. He considers pedagogy as a branch of dramaturgy: a great teacher is a playwright, a vector of knowledge who instills curiosity, personifies her subject, and communicates passion. As an academic, designer, artist, and poet , storytelling is central to my work.
When I was six years old, fascinated by a book of folktales of Northern Europe, I decided I wanted to be a collector of legends. Though my path took me to Architecture and Fine Arts, teaching History of Architecture brought me to travel to Latin America, the American Southwest and the Caribbeans where I began to record the history of place through the stories of its native people, These ‘stories of architecture’ become the framework of my courses. Through drawing, urban sketching, collages, photography, and writing, my preoccupation has been with collecting, documenting, processing and communicating narratives – while letting the spontaneous unfold.”
Miti Aiello, San Diego, March 2016
Writer Update:
My abstract on my research on Storage Cities has been accepted by one of the two main Architecture academic bodies here in the U.S for presentation at their International Conference! They are sending me to Santiago, Chile in June, and will publish my academic paper. Too excited for words. If you want to get a sneak peek and read my abstract check out my academia.edu page.
This is likely a hello/byefornow.
I wanted to update my blog now that classes have ended for the quarter, and before once again leaving for Mexico, this time in Baja California Sur for a week of volunteering. Faculty and students of my school are going to help build a healing center using natural architecture in a location that is three hours away by car from the closest road. It will be very remote, challenging and, I am sure, transforming. I will document everything.
Few weeks ago I wrote that, sometimes, we don’t have time to do art because we are too busy living a life that is art itself.
That is a true blessing, amidst the inherent challenges.
Although I have not posted here, I have not stopped taking photographs, seeing, collecting, thinking. My hope of hopes is to get caught up with my posts this summer…Promises we have heard before…
“You don’t need motivation.
What you need is discipline, young lady!”Joe
May Nudes and Works in Progress
Posted in art, Art Gallery, Drawing, Ink, Life Drawing, Pastel, Poetry, sketchbook, wanderlust, Watercolor, Writing, writing, tagged art, balboa part, Drawing, graphite, ink, Monday nights, nude, nude modeling, pastel, san diego, san diego arts institute, sketchbook, sketching on July 23, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Another month of quickening days, of white skies, of scorching heat, of California monsoons has gone by.
The weather in San Diego has been positively schizophrenic. Life has been full (I dislike the word “busy”), heartbreaking and healing at turns, magic, adventurous, challenging and with an overall trend of daily progress towards balance, harmony and mindfullness. Things are good.
I have been blessed to have crossed paths with soulful fellow travelers.
Since the beginning of 2015, the posts here at Sketchbloom have been so sparse…it’s embarassing. I miss my days before my professorship where I had the luxury of being an artist full time. Yet there were, of course, different struggles at the time. I always heard that with privileges come responsibilities, and I felt those, so much, this past school year. Although the school year ended, culminating with Graduation at the end of June, I feel I am only (sort-of) beginning to breath now.
I completed my six-week five-credit Arabic course yesterday. I signed up for the class on what must have been an adrenaline rush from the tough Spring I had. The course started during Finals week at my University, which meant a seamless, yet intense/insane transition! I have some calligraphy to share from the course, and I am happy to say I can finally read and write in Arabic!
This month also saw me in Ciudad de Mexico DF for few days. I will post soon some photographs and recollections from that city of thousand faces. Alas, no drawings. (no time)
How to sum up a whole year? Only through recollection in tranquility. I am finally on break, and I plan to catch up with all the posts from my travels. I have notebooks full of thoughts and words, that might become verses, once distilled. Yet, this is also the time to make. I read that, a year from now, you will wish you had started today. SO I am starting, again, today. Every time I post here it feels like a new beginning. For those of you who have been following this blog (more than a thousand!), thank you for your patience and for the kind forgetfulness, and forgiveness, of promises not (yet) kept. I started running behind in 2013….no comment. My art and this blog can hardly catch up with my life and travels. I guess that is a good problem to have. Maybe you want to wander here, and see why time flies.
Annnyyyyhow…..Here are the rest of this spring’s nudes from Monday nights at the San Diego Arts Institute.
I noticed, going through the various drawings done there, that I tend to experiment with a different medium and paper each time. I guess I really miss my collages. I had the time to scan these drawings (i always feel quick and dirty when I post shots from my phone), and, well, what a difference.
One good piece of news is that I will get back my art studio in the Fall. I was part of the Brokers’ Building Artist Colony from 2003-2008 and I cannot wait to have a special place for my art again.
This summer – this year, really – feels like the long backward run, the gathering momentum
overdue
of the pole jumper.
Two Months of Nudes
Posted in art, Art Gallery, Cures for the Nothing, Digital Collage, Ink, Life Drawing, Pastel, Poetry, Quotes, San Diego, sketchbook, sketching, Watercolor, Writing, tagged artists, Drawing, Life Drawing, Mondays in Balboa Park, nude modeling, painting, san diego, San Diego Art Institute, Watercolor on June 19, 2015| Leave a Comment »
First experiment in Digital nude painting on my Android HTC ONE phone, using the Paint Commander App and the Sensu brush.
Two months to the day of my last post, I return.
Like a lover who walks into the door surreptitiously, I offer no explanations.
Just Kidding.
This quarter saw me teaching three courses with a total of 120 students, so, dear Single Reader, the reason for my hiatus is self-evident. It was a ten-week long journey into different periods of History of Architecture and Urban Design, Urban Issues and so. much. more.
Here are snapshots of my bimonthly art dates. I have quite a few drawings, but could not conjure up the time and mental space to scan and post them. Ideally, these will be scanned version soon..but here they are.
I embarked on an Arabic adventure as of Monday, and this will be a spectacular summer, I feel and know.
“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”
Anne Bradstreet
Lights at Lulu’s
Posted in digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, Drawing, Ink, Poetry, sketchbook, sketching, tagged coffee shop, Drawing, light, light fixtures, lounge, luminaires, Noelle Kocot, on being an artist, poem-a-day, red, sketch, sketch every day on May 19, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Luminaires- Café Lulu. San Diego, May 9, 2014. Ink, marker, digital collage.
On Being an Artist
Noelle Kocot
|
Drawing with Drew
Posted in art,poetry,writing, Competitions and Collaborations, Drawing, Ink, Painting, San Francisco Diaries, sketchbook, sketching, Traveling, wanderlust, Watercolor, tagged Drawing, sketchbook, Watercolor on April 10, 2014| Leave a Comment »
San Francisco, Samovar @ Yerba Buena Gardens, April 6, 2014. Drew Fish (left) and Miti Aiello (right) . Ink, Watercolor.
Collage in process and ASCII Art
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Collage, Drawing, Ink, Link Love, Poetry, Thinking with my hands, tagged ascii heart, asciiart, black and white art, collage, Drawing, figure, found objects, graphite, journal, Watercolor, writing on December 10, 2013| Leave a Comment »
I found and lost myself inside of that night. Collage. Graphite, fountain ink, found objects. San Diego. December 9, 2013.
These collages are starting to need a change of byline for SketchBloom: Art Therapy. Oh well;)
Above, a work in progress (and, darling aren’t we all?)..not sure which way it will go.
In the midst of nude painting to be done from memory (and I have started sketching, too bad the final product won’t be posted here), there’s been art and feelings on fire.
…
In the quest for ASCII hearts ( yes, lots of hearts are needed ) I found these lovely images.
All credits to benjscott.com
All credits to http://www.benjscott.com
The ascii art images above are from http://www.benjscott.com/artscii/. Click to be taken to his program.
This is a program called ASCIIART – which goes beyond recreating images in characters to delving into typography…and…this had me at hello.
I cannot wait to experiment with some black and white art.
…
Also, a return to poetry, literature and tender music. Maybe a new poem will blossom soon…the ingredients are there once again.
Some quotes from a book I am finally finishing (quotes that became a poem): The Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter.
Freedom and loneliness overlap, look in the mirror, my face, these words reversed.
Hearing his name caused him to turn back again
looking into her eyes was like standing by a door slightly ajar
how could you not push open the door
see what lay inside?
…
And that door seemed to open a little.
and the glimpse he had beyond the door tortured him
he wanted to say more, to say everything on his mind, but he couldn’t.
It wasn’t a question of language.
He doubted the words existed in any language.
…
He forced himself to look away from her then.
It was like prying a magnet off steel.
…
It was as though, outside of that room, there could be such a thing as ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.
And then there was her.
Not a Heart but Time
Posted in Drawing, Ink, San Diego, tagged Drawing, fountain ink pen, heart, ink, parker, sketch, time, woman on May 22, 2013| 2 Comments »
Fountain ink pen on Moleskine paper. May 2013
Dispatches from Buffalo, New York
Posted in architecture, art, art,poetry,writing, Coffee, Collage, Drawing, Ink, sketchbook, sketching, Spontaneous Constructs, Thinking with my hands, Watercolor, tagged Buffalo, cafe', coffee watercolor, collage, Ny, painting with espresso coffee, sketchbook, SOciety of Architectural Historians COnference on April 19, 2013| Leave a Comment »
History of Architecture: Analysis and Synthesis Through Visual Notes | Paper Abstract
Posted in Architecture, architecture, art, Art Show, art,poetry,writing, Drawing, Graphic Design, Ink, Lectures, Paper Goods, Research, school, School Work, Watercolor, writing, tagged Architecture, Drawing, History of Architecture, paper abstract, research, visual notes on November 2, 2012| 1 Comment »
Drawing by Jackie McDowell.
I am posting the first of a series of samples of student work from the exhibit History of Architecture: Analysis and Synthesis Through Visual Notes. Moving chronologically, today we start with the Beginnings of Architecture. This body work was completed for the Graduate History of Architecture sequence, comprising of three courses, which i taught during the 2011-2012 school year.
I will also post some photos from the Exhibit.
These visual notes are by Jackie McDowell.
Drawing by Jackie McDowell.
Drawing by Jackie McDowell.
And here is the paper abstract summarizing the project objectives and research purpose. The full paper will be presented and published next Spring.
One Night in San Diego
Posted in art, Art Show, Drawing, Ink, Lectures, Poetry, Research, Situationism, sketchbook, sketching, Writing, tagged 36 hour event, Balboa Park, ink drawing, mannequin, Marquise de Châtelet, Marquise du Chatelet, san diego museum of art, SDMA, sketchbook, summer salon series, the Age of Enlightenment, Yinka Shonibare on July 30, 2012| 1 Comment »
Ink drawing of the sculpture “The Age of Enlightenment – Gabrielle Émilie Le Tonnelier de Breuteuil, Marquise de Châtelet” by Yinka Shonibare, MBE. Drawn at the San Diego Museum of Art, 2008.
There are particular nights, small time frames, where everything you want, and, yes -everything you need- is given to you.
You watch your life unfolding perfectly, like a well-written screenplay of a comedy of errors, where the characters, after a series of ‘harrowing events’ and near misses, find each other at last. These nights you believe in signs, and that there are no coincidences.
I am not saying that life or love have a happy ending, but some days do.
Last Friday, the San Diego Museum of Art in Balboa Park hosted an extraordinary event, part of their Summer Salon Series (inspired by the tradition of French literary and cultural salons). This event was a 36 Hour ‘continued’ Salon taking place in the museum’s galleries (open consecutively for 36 hours…I will never forget contemplating Egon Schiele at 2 in the morning), auditorium, and outdoors in the sculpture garden.
Needless to say, the collection of happenings taking place ranged from the superb to the surreal. Wandering in the museum galleries in the wee hours of night with other artists, revellers and cool types felt very subversive and….Big City.
A Yes Men lecture, an avant-garde play on self-loop for four hours, museum tours, German Expressionist Cinema, ambient music with obligatory trippy visualizations, live bands, a napping station plen air, stargazing on the lawn of the sculpture garden, drawing dreams and nightmares and, my favorite, a marching band in which us, the audience, were given a makeshift instrument and played (and marched) directed by the one-man band’s crazy frontman.
The general feeling of anarchy, and being caught between confusion/freedom/disbelief/engagement made this event very Dada, or something the Situationists would have conjured up…
Click to enlarge
During a lecture, I drew one of the pieces on display {above}. you can find a photo of the piece here.
From the museum’s literature: The Age of Enlightenment – Gabrielle Émilie Le Tonnelier de Breuteuil, Marquise de Châtelet, is from a series of five figures depicting notable philosophers from the eighteenth century. The marquise, fluent in several languages and an accomplished mathematician and physicist, personified the “enlightened” person. Her lasting legacy is the translation and critique of Isaac Newton’s Principia Mathematica that is still used to this day. Despite the fact that the Marquise de Châtelet was a leading mind of eighteenth-century France, much of her work was overlooked because of her gender. Her most famous lover, Voltaire, described her as a ‘great man’ whose only fault was being a woman.
I like to think that the Marquise is headless because she has never been recognized for her work and her name is virtually unknown.
She has been deliberately omitted in the annals of His-tory.
The fabric of her dress also tells a fascinating story of colonialism and the fallacy of ‘tradition’.
Of Butterflies and {Little} Bees
Posted in art, Drawing, Ink, Painting, sketchbook, Watercolor, tagged ink, portrait, sketchbook, Watercolor on July 16, 2012| Leave a Comment »
Ink and watercolor on hand.book paper. July 16, 2012.
Ink and watercolor on hand.book paper. July 16, 2012.
Desde La Habana {Dibujas y Recuerdos}
Posted in Architecture, art, Drawing, Film, Habana Diaries, History of Architecture, Ink, Music, Poetry, Quotes, sketchbook, sketching, Watercolor, Writing, tagged Before Sunrise, cuba, Drawing, Havana, History of Architecture, ink, La Habana, Moorish Architecture, Movie, Mudejar, Neoclassical Architecture, sketchbook, sketching on April 26, 2012| 2 Comments »
El Templete, Habana Vieja (with water from the Malecon).
Ink on hand.book paper. Habana, Cuba. April 2012.
Example of Moorish (Mudéjar) Architecture in Habana Vieja.
Ink on hand.book paper. Habana, Cuba. April 2012.
….
“Music is a total constant. That’s why we have such a strong visceral connection to it, you know? Because a song can take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. No matter what else has changed in you or the world, that one song stays the same, just like that moment.”
Sarah Dessen, Just Listen
This Is How Violins Are Made
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Berkeley Diaries, Cures for the Nothing, Drawing, Ink, Music, tagged Drawing, la caminada loca, Mana Daddy, Music event, Oakland, oakland art scene, Sjetch on February 20, 2012| Leave a Comment »
Dispatches from Milano
Posted in Architecture, art, Art Gallery, Ink, Jewelry, Pastel, Poetry, Sketchbook Exchange, Spontaneous Constructs, Writing, tagged Architecture, Bramante, city, Drawing, duomo milano, ink drawing, Milano, milano cafe, Milano Diaries, pio albergo trivulzio, santa maria presso san satiro, sketchbook, sketches, urban moments, Urban Sketchers, Watercolor, window on January 1, 2012| 7 Comments »
Crocheting Cathedrals. Il Duomo with parasitic architecture (stage for New Year's festivities). Ink and watercolor on hand.book paper. December 31, 2011.
Aperol and Spritz. Most of the older ladies in my neighborhood are incredibly fashionable, decked in the latest trend winter coat. Here's two enjoying a mildly alcoholic aperitivo at 11 AM. Ink on hand.book paper. December 31, 2011.
Santa Maria Presso San Satiro. The obligatory pilgrimage to the second Bramante's church. Last year I drew Santa Maria Delle Grazie, which is near to my place. I am always amazed by the playfulness and modernity of the oculi (round windows) on the Northern Romanesque facade. I found out that the space in front of the church is called 'Largo Jorge Luis Borges'. Can it get better than this?
Ink on hand.book paper. December 31, 2011.
Window of the Pio Albergo Trivulzio. In an act of Flanerie, I got lost trying to reach the Roseto, and found these whimsical, almost Gaudi-like windows on a palazzo I had not seen since my childhood, painted in the typical warm 'Milanese Yellow' (think saffron rice and add a patina of melancholy, smog and time). Ink on hand.book paper. January 1, 2012.
Fragments {and a Cashmere Wrap}
Posted in art, Calabria Diaries, Drawing, F R A G M E N T S, Ink, Poetry, Quotes, sketching, Writing, tagged Dali, Drawing, fisherman, fragments, Lao Tzu. Wisdom, pescatore, poem, poems about a cashmere wrap, Quotes, Saul Bellow, visual poetry on December 15, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Dream before Nonno died. He was a fisherman. Ink on notebook paper, 2003.
Fragments {and a cashmere wrap}
The cashmere wrap finally arrived in the mail
so much weighs on this stole
‘opportunity a thief makes’
he said before giving me homework
“A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep”
A lot weighs on this stole:
conversation is rippled with diamonds
they tumble , heavy, they are words, quotes
…out of the mundane…
a pearl – grasp it and keep it.
Wisdom is the only jewelry I wear this season
and my greediness awaits
He who grasps more than he can hold, would be better without any.
If a house is crammed with treasures of gold and jade,
it will be impossible to guard them all.
Did you hear the sound of wisdom, Heart?
The message you sought.
My only wealth is my memory.
Like a mendicant I gather precious words,
fragments of light that I bring back,
puzzles I spend days composing.
– You, collector of spirit, feeder of souls.
Everyone wants to go to Heaven, no-one wants to die.
The falcon, scarred wing, alighted the sill.
– the magpies, once they have caught the prey,
lose interest
and look around for the next creature to pursue-
grasp their message
Catch leaves in the wind
Heaven is simple:
The Spoiled
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Drawing, Ink, NaBloPoMo, tagged balloon, child, Drawing, ink on November 19, 2011| 2 Comments »
Ink on Paper. November 19, 2011.
Thinking With My Hands
Posted in architecture, art,poetry,writing, Cures for the Nothing, Digital Manipulation, Drawing, Ink, Poetry, Quotes, Thinking with my hands, tagged art, bell jar, Drawing, Murmurations, Poetry, Quote, starlings, Sylvia Plath, thinking with one's hands, visual poetry on November 9, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Thoughts set free. Ink on paper and trace. November 9,2011.
“If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time,
then I’m neurotic as hell.
I’ll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another
for the rest of my days.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 8
I have to thank my colleague Alan Rosenblum for sharing the concept of thinking with one’s hands and the visual poetry of The Mystery of a Murmuration. His advice is to watch this in silence.
Sketching at Bassam II {and two poems}
Posted in Drawing, Ink, NaBloPoMo, Poetry, Writing, tagged art, Bassam, Ilyas Abu Shabaku, Lebanese poet, literary cafe, modern arabic poetry an anthology, Poetry, san diego, sketching on November 5, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Ink on Miquelrius paper + Digital collage. October 2011
I want to share these two poems by Ilyas Abu Shabaku, which were given to me as a gift. Poetry is a candle in a dark room: our job in this life may just be to burn as bright as torches, as bright and as alive and loud as we can, for each glorious day we have left.
Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened,
Happiness never decreases by being shared.
Buddha
By Ilyas Abu Shabaku, Lebanese poet (1903-1947)
This beauty, is it yours or mine?
In you I see a person beautiful in love
Like me. And which of us has given me life?
Is it your shape or mine that i love so?
When in my dream I see love’s images
Is it your shadow in my soul or mine?
Love, all of love, dwells in all I see
Whence all this light? Your universal soul?
Did I create you in the world of fancy
Or are you my creator?
Am I the first whom inspiration blessed
Or was it you? Who writes this verse?
Did I write it for you or you for me?
And who in love can be dictated to
And who dictates? Our imaginations blend,
Your soul within my soul, your mind in mine
When things appear obscure to me I see
A doubting shadow dawning in your eyes
When we met first I found my beginning
As if you were a lost part of my being.
Translated by Adam Haydar and Michael Beard
I LOVE YOU
By Ilyas Abu Shabaku, Lebanese poet (1903-1947)
I love you more than human heart can bear
More than a poet dreams or lover feels
You are the perfumed cloud from heaven sent
To rain upon me your enchanted dew;
I feel your heart, your veins flow into mine,
No gap to let the impure world creep in;
My heart confronts your heart, finding its twin,
As two cups meet in one eternal vow;
In us when wine is made to mix with wine,
A blend of perfume, breeze, and dew combine;
My inspiration dwells within your eyes,
And swells when lip on lip instructs my art;
For us the fire rages, though unfed,
Though we are calm, a storm erupts within.
Translated by Adam Haydar and Michael Beard
Dialogues in an Echo Chamber
Posted in Design, digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, Drawing, Ink, tagged art, comic, Drawing, figure drawing, ghdah alkandari, ink, inner dialogue, kafka, line art, the trial on November 3, 2011| 2 Comments »
Fill in the blanks. Ink on Miquelrius paper. October 2011.
This drawing was inspired by this one , by my blogsister Ghadah Alkandari.
It’s Halloween, everybody: Mirrors and Masks
Posted in art, Drawing, Ink, tagged art, halloween, ink drawing, line drawing, masks, mirrors on October 31, 2011| 2 Comments »
Ink on Miquelrius paper. October 2011.
Halloween: A day of rest for those who wear a mask all the time.
Sketching at Bassam on a Friday Night
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Drawing, Ink, tagged bassam cafe, crochet, knitting, literary cafe, literary coffee shop, san diego, smoking wine on October 29, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Ink and Graphite on Paper. October 2011
Mending Walls
Posted in art, Collage, Drawing, Ink, Poetry, Writing, tagged art, collage, Drawing, forgiveness, ink, mending wall, mending walls, Poetry, Robert Frost, yoga on October 27, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Namaste. Ink on paper, digital manipulation. October 2011.
MENDING WALL
Robert Frost
Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one stone on a stone, But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line And set the wall between us once again. We keep the wall between us as we go. To each the boulders that have fallen to each. And some are loaves and some so nearly balls We have to use a spell to make them balance: 'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!' We wear our fingers rough with handling them. Oh, just another kind of outdoor game, One on a side. It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.' Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: 'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offense. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him, But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather He said it for himself. I see him there Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. He moves in darkness as it seems to me, Not of woods only and the shade of trees. He will not go behind his father's saying, And he likes having thought of it so well He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Orsetto
Posted in art, Calabria Diaries, Drawing, Ink, tagged dog, Drawing, ink, miquelrius paper on October 25, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Orsetto. Ink on Miquelrius paper. October 2011.
Le Petit Palais
Posted in Architecture, architecture, art, Drawing, Ink, Paris Diaries, Photography, photography, tagged art, ink drawing, le Petit Palais, Paris, Photography on October 23, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Chez Miti @Sea
Posted in Drawing, Ink, tagged Calabria, Drawing, ink, terrazza on September 29, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Ink on Paper. Calabria, Italia. September 29, 2011.
Someday, somewhere — anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
Pablo Neruda
The Hrönir of the Discussant {Fiction and Poetry in Prose}
Posted in art, Books, Drawing, Ink, Poetry, Quotes, Writing, tagged Drawing, Ficciones, Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths, Orbis Tertius, plane, san francisco, Tlön, Uqbar, working woman on September 27, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Ink on paper. September 2011
In Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius by Borges, we find the description of a hrönir.
In the most ancient regions of Tlön, the duplication of lost objects is not infrequent.
Two persons look for a pencil;the first finds it and says nothing; the second finds a second pencil, no less real, but closer to its expectations.
These secondary objects are called hrönir and are, though awkward in form, somewhat longer.
…
The methodical fabrication of hrönir (says the Eleventh Volume) has performed prodigious services for archaeologists.
It has made possible the interrogation and even the modification of the past, which is now no less plastic and docile than the future.
Curiously, the hrönir of second and third degree –the hrönir derived from another hrön — exaggerated the aberrations of the initial one;
those of fifth degree are almost uniform; those of ninth degree become confused with those of the second;
in those of the eleventh there is a purity of line not found in the original. The process is cyclical: the hrön of twelfth degree begins to fall off in quality.
Stranger and more pure than any hrön is, at times, the ur: the object produced through suggestion, educed by hope.
Things become duplicated in Tlön; they also tend to become effaced and lose their details when they are forgotten.
A classic example is the doorway which survived so long as it was visited by a beggar and disappeared at his death.
At times some birds, a horse, have saved the ruins of an amphitheater.
Ficciones, Jorge Luis Borges
Letters to Water
Posted in Drawing, Ink, sketchbook, Spontaneous Constructs, Thought in the Alley, Thoughts in the alley, tagged art, Drawing, inexistent, ink, letters, mailbox, unanswered, unopened on September 20, 2011| 2 Comments »
Ink on Miquelrius paper. September 20,2011.
Ink on Miquelrius paper. September 20,2011.
You can write anytime you like,
But you can never reach.
Thinking of Amy
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Books, Cures for the Nothing, Drawing, Ink, sketchbook, tagged amy winehouse, art, Art and ANarchy, Baudelaire, Edgar WInd, Excess or Atrophy, forces of the Imagination, Goethe, ink drawing on August 10, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Thinking of Valerie. Ink on paper. August 10,2011.
From 'Art and Anarchy', Edgar Wind. 1965
Dispatches from New York City
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, Drawing, Ink, Photography, tagged Drawing, les demoiselles d'avignon, moma, museum of modern art, new york, new york city, New York Diaries, Photography, Picasso, sketch, subway on June 23, 2011| 1 Comment »
Connecting|Disconnecting over the New York Post. New York City Subway, Line 5 Uptown, June 21, 2011.
Presently and present in New York City.
Conference sessions, museums, walking walking walking. Design, Architecture, Art.
The energy of the City. Ideas like kites move slower than the city moves. Slower than pedestrians at a busy intersection, slower than subway trains with their human cargoes.
A musical: Death Takes a Vacation.
Absorbing and consuming the city, which becomes a commodity. Getting lost in the city, a bus to New Jersey, a ride to the Bronx.
Will post few dispatches, I have been absent with no written excuses.
………………………….
My fabric city map is almost done, it took almost a month. I have the utmost respect for seamstresses.
Until next time, with a summer-light heart, looking forward to sharing more experiments.
Rain of Frogs [fragments, poems, movie lines]
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Collage, Design, Digital Collage, digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, Digital Manipulation, Drawing, Experiments, F R A G M E N T S, Ink, Poetry, San Diego, Thoughts in the alley, Writing, writing, tagged a story that could be true, agata and the storm, agata e la tempesta, Digital Collage, frogs, poem, Poetry, rain, william stafford on May 17, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Digital Collage. May 16, 2011.
Ink drawing and digital manipulation. May 2011.
The Pretty Parking Lot
I have dreamt of perfect poems
faded like dewdrops upon awakening
About mice and buildings
built by men
Cities are sentences that haunt me
Book thieves, foreign movies…
the line is thin between memories and reverie
The fog has lifted
the rain felt soft (like a blessing)
yet I am in a pretty parking lot.
You left your eyes as you passed me by.
May 2011
…………………………………………………………………..
Where can I run?
You fill the world.
The only place to run is within you.From Agata e la Tempesta| Agata and the Storm
……………………………………………………………………..
They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
“Who are you really, wanderer?”—
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
“Maybe I’m a king.”
William Stafford
It’s April: New Shoes for Everyone
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Berkeley Diaries, Books, Coffee, Drawing, Ink, San Francisco Diaries, sketchbook, sketching on April 2, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Drawn Resolutions (and calling for mandatory poetry)
Posted in Architecture, art, Artuesdays, Books, Cures for the Nothing, Digital Collage, Drawing, Essay, History of Architecture, Ink, Photography, Poetry, Quotes, Research, school, School Work, sketching, Theory and Criticism, Writing, tagged 'spiro kostof, ability to visualize, architect: chapters in the history of the profession, architects, architecture academia, architecture curriculum, artist, balboa park san diego, communication for architects, criticism, curricula, designers, downcast eyes: the denigration of vision in twentieth-century french thought, draw it, Drawing, drawn, essay, eth switzerland, importance of literature, inchoate, ink, intellectual dialogue, literature, mandatory poetry, marc angelil, meditating, pen, Poetry, poetry humanities in architecture curriculum, powerpoint, read in the park, read outdoors, resolutions 2011, sketching, the picture is worth a thousands words syndrome, tyranny of the visual, visual people, visualization techniques, war, writing, writing for architects on March 9, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Ink on Paper. January 2011.
As designers, architects, artists, we use the ability to first visualize then communicate a desired outcome. Implementation means having the courage, discipline and perseverance to bring that vision into the physical realm. I love to write, and to write lists, but this year I am doing something different with my 2011 resolutions. I am drawing them. It sems to be working. On good days, and they are abundant here in San Diego, you can find me in the park, chasing the sun and reading. An old-school physical book. The previous specifications is now necessary due to the variety of reading options we have (what is your pleasure, or rather, your poison: smartphone, kindle, ipad, TMZ on your laptop?). These are my immediate, must-finish charges:
Ink on paper. February 2011.
Books:
Inchoate: An Experiment in Architectural Education. Angelil, Marc and Liat Uziyel, eds.
The Architect: Chapters in the History of the Profession by Spiro Kostof
Sketching and meditating. Two resolutions, perhaps one and the same.
Ink on Paper. January 2011.
Pondering on drawing, as opposed to writing, resolutions led me to think about visual vs. written and oral communication.
While drawing-or diagramming-a goal may help provide us with clues, visual or other, that help us actualize it, I don’t buy the argument that ‘visual’ people can only best communicate their intent through images. This is also known as ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ syndrome. By the same token, I refuse to accept that ‘visual’ people only understand material if it’s accompanied by images and therefore should be excused if they are poor readers or listeners. That is plain laziness. There are notions and topics in this world that cannot be boiled down to neat Powerpoints (even though, heaven knows, we have tried to even run wars through the ubiquitous slide application), but require flight of the imagination, suspension of disbelief, and the ability to follow (picture-less) complex arguments. In trying to explain critical thinking, images run the risk of appearing like obtrusive clip-arts, obfuscating rather than enlightening.
The tyranny of the visual often lets us get away with having inferior written and oral communication skills. I don’t buy the ‘visual’ doctrine (or fallacy) with my students or my architecture colleagues. Maybe it’s because I come from a linguistic lycaeum, was an English Minor, and come from Italy, but the way a person speaks or writes is more important to me, or revealing of their character, than any imagery or composition she or he can conjure up on a board. And here I need to say that, lest I behave like a whitened sepulcher, I know I have failings when trying to communicate: typos due to late night writing, listitis (I make too many lists), lectures that tend to go on a tangent and probably what is called mild A.D.D in this country (or severe A.D.D…depending on what day you ask my students;)). Lastly the fact that, no matter how many years I live here, my soul is Italian and so is the way to express myself, and we do use lot of what here are called ‘run-ons’ in writing, and perhaps even talking. We are peripatetic, scenic-route communicators.
Ok, so I am not perfect: let the flawed still admire and aim at beauty.
I ask the person I listen to to paint a convincing, even seductive picture with their words, to evoke the sense and meaning of their process. Of course exact,clear words go well with exact, clear drawings and diagrams, but seductive images without substantive explanations or clear, logical statements leave me dry. The literary arts are for the most part lost to modern architecture students, beyond the required ‘humanities’ and enticing (but seldom frequented) advanced elective courses. The result is professionals who are literate in CAD, codes, building, or even ‘architecture’, but illiterate in the sense of the global collective written word, and therefore culture. Shouldn’t the designers of shelters for the human race understand its most lyrical expressions? Shouldn’t they design for man and woman’s highest aspiration, rather than the lowest common denominator? We ask architects to create places of Beauty, places that inspire, to design poetic aedifices. Without knowing what poetry is, without at least having been exposed to it, that is an impossible feat. If architecture is the Mother of all the Arts, should it not contain them? Literature, philosophy, liberal arts, music…Where are you Muses in our curricula? We have modified –and are moving towards transforming–the academic requirements for the make-up of the future architect based on the needs (vocational at best ) of field practice, a large number made up by corporate building farms, where architecture is just a sign on the door. Of course we aim for graduates ready to enter the profession, but hopefully we are also aiming for critical thinkers, whole individuals who can inspire, not just perform. What should lead, follows. The trend can only go downward. I am talking about cad monkeys, or people who are paid ‘to draw, not think’ –I was actually told that many years ago. Call me irrational, but I call for mandatory poetry courses (mandatory poetry! an oximoron). Call me utopian, but world literature should be as much part of an architecture curriculum as world architecture. When you know, you cannot unknow. I always say that. When you are exposed to possibilities and ‘big questions’ you cannot accept passively that things are just the way they are because they have always been. Poetry and literature are democratic expressions, highly dangerous to the status quo. And therefore highly desirable.
In my quest, I ran into this book. I am collecting a body of critical readings (for myself!) and this book will definitely be included.
Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in 20th Century French Thought, by Martin Jay
Illustrating Flaubert
Posted in art, art,poetry,writing, Drawing, Ink, Quotes, sketchbook, sketching, tagged airhead, big hair, chicken, Drawing, dumb chick, gallina, high heels, ink, oca, pen, the chick who thought she found a worm, vain, woman on February 17, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Ink on paper. February 2011.
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Favorite drawings, paintings, collages and handwork on SketchBloom
Collage, Pilot Pen on Paper
Coffee Carrier (delle). Graphite on paper. Kuwait. January 2010
Graphite on paper and magazine cutouts. December 27, 2010. Miti and Gianni Aiello.
Persimmon- very quick pastel rendering. November 12, 2009.
our very own coffee cart @ NewSchool: Cafe’ A la Carte
Final Twomoons Piece, Summer 2008
Miniature Pomegranate. Watercolor on chocolate wrap. Kuwait. January 2010
Ink and watercolor on paper and tracing paper. A bit of digital manipulation. Feb. 09,2011.
July 27, San Diego Museum Of Art. The Age of Enlightenment – Gabrielle Emilie Le Tonnelier de Breuteuil, Marquise du Chatelet by Yinka Shonibare- Ink on hand.book paper
Casa Del Fascio, contrast corrected thru Photoshop, Como, 2007
Mare Mosso Act II. Graphite drawing by Gianni Aiello. Collage. March 18,2011
Ink on Paper. September 2009
Ink on Paper. December 2010.
Barcelona Chairs by Mies Van De Rohe, 1929 @ the CED Library in Berkeley
Baggalini Red.
Ink on hand.book paper. Paris, 2011.
Queen Califia’s Garden, Totem/Sculpture. Ink, color pencils and markers. 2009
Waiting for Godot | Static Head. Digital Collage. May 5th, 2010
Platonic Solid Exercise. Graphite on Paper. 2007
Earth Henna, Eucalyptus Oil. May 2, 2010.
The Sun, the Moon, and on there being no abstracts in life. Pencil, ink, watercolor on 4″X5″ canvas.2009
Pencil and Watercolor on canvas
Ink on tracing paper. Kuwait, January 2010. The scene at the bottom is what I saw-or decided to see- at The Avenues, the most popular malla in Kuwait City. There is nothing like seeing photography and drawings from a trip abroad to make you realize all reality is subjective, and we choose to see what we want to. We just don’t realize it in our own backyard.
Ink on Paper. December 2010.
Earth and Water. Beads and yarn. June 24, 2011
Concept for jewelry piece ‘twomoons’
The Fortress of Lost Time. Graphite on paper and magazine cutouts. December 27, 2010. Miti and Gianni Aiello.
The funambulist. Ink drawing + digital collage. August 2011.
Felt tip on paper. March 22, 2011.
Watercolor and Graphite. November 12, 2009
Watercolor on paper. June 3, 2010
Pilot pen on paper. January 2011
Dr. Gregory House. Watercolor on Paper. June 3, 2010
Mare Mosso Act III. Graphite and pen drawing by Gianni Aiello. Collag and pastel. March 19, 2011.
Ink on Paper. Calabria, Italia. September 29, 2011.
Pilot Pen on Paper. November 2009
Twomoons Wax Proof-modeled after concept sketch
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