17 Favorite Things

When starting an evil plan: I do not actually plan. In art school I refused to use sketchbooks.  I like the books themselves. Libraries are beautiful. Books on shelves are beautiful. I think blank books are really white surfaced books and not blank at all.  I want to write in them. But blankness annoys the hell out of me so I usually create a dirty surface and layer my shit. I paint my canvases colors first, I can't start on white. White surfaces suck. They suck light, they shine light, and they suck. I cannot communicate on such a surface, because it's just not how the world is.
Transitively I also like casting instead of metal fab, because fabricating out of blank space is really not my style, but creating the mold out of sand makes more sense. Gestalt shift.  It is easier than blank mock ups from nothing comes something.
My painting teacher walked into my shared studio my senior year. I was painting and alone, she was obviously upset. Raving mad really. I went into her corner office, which was a corner triangle that had 4 corners because of some Pomo architect had remodeled the space, and she said: "Erica, I will probably be fired." I stood as she got red in the face, this porcelain faced cute blonde who didn't seem capable of any mean thoughts. When she would answer the phone at home people would ask her if her mom was home. She sounded 10 years old. Yet the expletives were spewing forth. I was a mute listener as usual, using my nods in support. She said " I told them art wasn't meant to be made by themselves, that would be MASTURBATION. I told them to HAVE SEX, that is the WHOLE POINT." Then she ordered me to go in and tell the sophomores that class was over and to go try to make some art that was more akin to having some kind of communication, which is how I decided to say it instead of what she was screaming. (That was the old me.)

I do marvel at plans. I see DiVinci's notebooks and things and get all googly eyed. I watch The Way Things Go and sit in wonderment about how much time and thought went into planning such an epic spectacle. I watch movie credits and story boards and get emotional at how much planning went into the planning. This is especially poignant when I see the "baby list" on some movies for the babies that were born during the making of the film. Makin and cookin a baby takes TIME. All the while I am sitting in the wonderment, contented to be Miss Viewer, I am subverting my own plans and creating my art inside my head, which is maybe mind masturbation and perhaps worse than what those sophomores were doing all those years ago. But no, I actually LIKE it, so whatever. This is how it's going to have to be folks.

I am a firm believer in cherishing what is worth cherishing. Highlighting the good things. I am good at this non sketchbook planning. Just most people wouldn't use the word planning; more like speculating concretely and thrusting forth into life as if I were caped with magical powers and winged thunderous abilities.My visual memory has been cultivated and I can now use it to plan. I can see things. I used to try to get rid of those visions. I'd force them out of my mind. Then of course I tried to deny they existed. And now I try to share them. Because my painting teacher was right. My brain is beautiful, and I'd rather communicate. It's trying to tell me something. It's trying to tell you something. But it is more like a caress than words. I will snuggle the visions and shit I see into your brain. I will kiss you with it. I won't edit much. I just hit the publish button with a squinty cringe sometimes. Like now.