Contextually Conceptual or The More Oxygen Available, the Better

It's been awhile since I've written something profoundly personal blog-wise. I know much of this goes out into the void and is impersonal in that respect, but I figured I would spare a moment to vent a bit.

I take the GRE (Graduate Record Examination) in less than a week. Understandably, I'm having some anxiety over this test. Not because I'm a bad test-taker, because the opposite is true. However, this is a culmination of things that I have wanted so badly and things I thought I wanted badly. I feel like someone who is coming closer to getting on a roller-coaster, with all the mixed feelings of fear, excitement, dread, and joy.

I've been enjoying my internship at The Modern so much, I'm already sad about it coming to an end in May. This has made rethink my path as an artist, a researcher, and a teacher. I've been all three in the present, juggling my responsibilities of my day job, bouncing around concepts and ideas while I carry around books like a waitress. I have a romanticism for my own future and its possibilities. A former professor of mine even ventured forth the following: "your wingspan will never be greater than it is now." I've taken this to heart and hope that I will not disappoint anyone. I realize on some level, this is ridiculous, because the only person I can truly disappoint is myself. I like to think I've done a bang-up job of respecting myself. However, there are these two little words that create, quite possibly, the most complex phrase in the English language: "What if?"

In a different realm, I'm still working on my theories about how intrinsic context is to concept. A single example I can make of this correlates with oral history. You know how in anyone's family a story is passed down from generation to generation, a semblance of embellishment takes place? I would argue that the truth is not neglected, but perhaps the viewpoint has changed. If the viewpoint has changed and appears as truth to that person, isn't that as powerful as the original truth?

I have been researching art, artists, and history lately in hopes to understand some correlations. For example, I just completed Monuments Men by Robert Edsel. I was fascinated by the plight of a few smattering of men, thrown into different parts of the military, for the sole purpose of finding, protecting, and in many cases, repatriating, some of the world's most precious art. It has renewed my interest in art as something more than a process, but something that represents cultures and freedom. I have a few books on my bedside table at this point, most currently Pop: The Genius of Andy Warhol by Tony Scherman and David Dalton. I'm reading it in hopes to gain some insight before the upcoming Warhol exhibition opens at The Modern on Valentine's Day. Again, another scenario where I think context is associated with concept. The book is focused on Warhol's earlier years, while the exhibition will be on his later years.

I am reminded of being in art school, where I slept, ate, bled, cried, and dreamt art. The physicality of creating art constantly, for personal reasons, and for deadlines, was sometimes a daunting process. I remember being outside of the wood shop at school during winter and accidently hammering a nail through the tip of one of my fingers. I didn't notice because my fingers were so numb, but when I started bleeding all over the wood, I remember thinking: "oh God, I've come to a point where I don't realize that I'm hurting for the sake of art." Needless to say, I was more careful later on, especially in the metals studio. Will it be too raw to continue those art studies? More specifically, do I have it in me?

Lots of decisions need to be made, but I will decide each one as they come.

The trick is to keep breathing...