Tag Archives: collage
[ from a. addair who is listening to The Walkmen (You and Me) ]
I’ve always been on the quiet side of the social butterfly spectrum, but 2011 has been firmly hermit-esque.
That I even want to follow this statement with reassurance that I’m not depressed says a bit about my unease in naming this solitary spell; there’s a real stigma attached to being alone. I know there is some validity to this and of course, there must be balance, but the sort of season I am in is not of the dangerous sort.
I’m not gloomy, I just feel a peace in and yearning for long solo intermissions. I’ve been following this need and its been good. But every so often I get anxious about the consequences of being alone. I think it’s because I let cheap advertising get in to my brain mix and I start to wonder if I’m missing out, if I’ll eventually deteriorate into a lonely old woman, or if I’m a social mutant.
I have this tendency to view events and prescribe their aftermath in extreme terms. But it’s probably more appropriate to understand that life cycles in seasons.
I guess what I’m trying to do is make myself understand that its okay to trust the seasons. To live where you are in stillness and joy. To understand that the nature of the universe works in terms of balance but not stability. Just because I feel like spending a lot of time alone now doesn’t mean that I will feel like this forever.
If this all sounds familiar, it’s because I’m finding that I have to keep writing/painting/thinking through the same concepts in order to absorb them. To borrow from my last blog, I’m simply hanging a color on this little space of time-love. And I guess my flags of late are all shades of neon mustard yellow.
[ from a. addair who is listening to Sam Sparro (Sam Sparro) ]
Thank you once again, Good Packaging subscribers and welcome to the fall issue (we’re going by the solstice schedule) of 2010. For this edition we’ve focused on vulnerability and acknowledgement of interdependence concerning doing what you do.
Our collaborator for this issue is artist Emily Janowick of municipalmonarchs.wordpress.com. She is a great encourager for our Knoxville art community toward honesty and authenticity in our approach to art making as well as the life that makes possible the work. This issue is also heavily influenced by the book, The Gift by Lewis Hyde which we recommend wholeheartedly.
Here’s what’s Good in this Packaging*:
Original painting on woodblock by Ashley (see above statement)
Laundry Line: demo of new song by Levon
not sure how i’ll eat but i’m not picking your peaches : Levon’s latest EP
A Fragile Genius: On viewing creativity as a gift and an acknowledgement of the vulnerability involved in toiling and sacrificing to this endowment.
“The task of setting free one’s gift was a recognizable labor in the ancient world. The Romans called a person’s tutelar spirit his genius. In Greece it was called a daemon….The genius or daemon comes to us at birth. It carries with it the fullness of our undeveloped powers. These it offers to us as we grow, and we choose whether or not to labor in its service.” -Lewis Hyde
Watch Elizabeth Gilbert’s talk on this subject at http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html
Let your genius fly and “OLE to you, nonetheless, just for having the sheer human love and stubbornness to keep showing up.”
With love and thanks,
Ashley and Levon
* All the packaging for this issue is made from used materials to emphasize the cyclical nature of our world and therefore our interdependence.
Tags: art and music subscription service, art community, balance not stability, collage, creativity, cycles, ecology, elizabeth gilbert, emily janowick, fall, fragile, genius, good packaging, laundry line, Levon Walker, lewis hyde, municipal monarchs, not sure how i'll eat but i'm not picking your peaches, painting, sam sparro, song of myself, ted talk, text art, the gift, the grass that i love, walt whitman
[ from a. addair who is listening to Ellie Holcomb (Magnolia EP) ]
At the Mason Jar November 15.
See flyer for details:
[ from a. addair who is listening to Yo-Yo Ma, Mark O'Connor, and Edgar Meyer (Appalachian Journey) ]
Now that we’ve decided to make our home back in good ol’ East Tennessee we’ve often been asked “Well, have you learned your lesson?” We get this mostly from fearful grandmothers but there are a few bona-fide haters in there too.
Don’t get me wrong, one of my favorite things about coming home is encountering the fine Southern tradition of knocking high-falutin city kids off their high horses but I can’t help but to want to string the bacon on the table around the person-asking-this-question’s neck.
No, we didn’t learn our lesson. But yes, we did learn many lessons.
Tantrums aside, it is a real pleasure being back in Old North Knoxville.
Tags: appalachian journey, bacon, collage, color, edgar meyer, fabric, family, home, home-grown, lessons, mark o'connor, old north knoxville, olive oil green, plywood, southern tradition, Travel, wanderlust, work-worn color, yo-yo ma
[ from a. addair who is listening to Alanis Morissette (Jagged Little Pill) ]
I love to see people gather at the beach. Humanity seems so sweet next to the almighty ocean. That we yearn to sit at the edge of a thing so great and powerful gives me hope in our collective spirit. I find our species darling so near nakedness. The abundance of doughy flesh in American flag bathing suits is a sweet reminder that even the biggest and baddest in this world has a soft (and often flabby) shell.