FREEDOM FROM WANT

I threw a helluva dinner party before Christmas.

Now, back to some regular posting.

THROWBACK THURSDAY

A black and white acrylic painting of  my friend Megan. We met in the 8th grade and had a friendship forged on the track team. Megan and I used to get asked all the time if we were sisters or cousins. People just wanted us to be related. We were just tall and blond. I hardly get to see her because she moved to another country. I've forgiven her though, because she is one of my all time favorite people. Megan once told me that my love language was my freakish memory and attention to detail. To prove a point,  I remember this night. It was one of many spent at the Ugly Mug, where we would hole up on Friday or Saturday nights, drink overly-sugared coffees and draw or take pictures or read books of poetry.

This was part of my concentration for AP Studio portfolio review.

LOVE HURTS AND SO DOES ART

 My most popular post to-date has been my entry about an art themed episode of King of the Hill. Which is not surprising, since I imagine people spend a lot more time googling Hank Hill than Sarah McFalls. Keeping this in mind, I've decided to write about another one of my favorite episodes -- also about art. "Love Hurts and so Does Art" aired in season 3. The episode begins when Hank receives an invitation to an art opening at the fictitious Houston Museum of Modern Art.

Now either Dale's pullin' a prank, or you've been sendin' money to PBS again.

 It doesn't take much to please Hank -- he enjoys his dog, Lady Bird, alley beers, fishing, football, and propane. Clearly, he throws the invitation away. Several days later, the caterer calls.

"Your parking is free, since your picture is in the exhibition."

"What picture?"

"I don't know, I'm just the caterer. I need to know how much cheese to buy."

"How many people are coming?"

"Sixty."

"Eight pounds."

(I found this scene particularly amusing. After several years in a sorority, and even more at my Day Job, I am adequately adept at Party Time Cheese Math.)

Out of sheer curiosity, he decides to go. He talks to his friends in the alley about it, over several Alamo beers.

Peggy's excited. She's even talking about putting on ear-rings.

At the museum, Hank is in for a rude surprise. A larger-than-life x-ray of his impacted colon is framed and hanging on the wall as part of a diptych. His half is is titled "Beef Filled Colon, Arlen, Texas."

(This is another thing I love about King of the Hill. It is one of the only cartoons with storyline continuity and character arc development. In a previous episode, Hank was constipated and unable to go to the bathroom for 5 days. When Peggy figures out what this picture is from, she references that episode.)

Hank is enraged. He sees nothing funny or meritous about having his blocked colon on display for all of Houston to see. He attempts to take he picture off the wall and is prevented by Security.

Later that week in the alley, Hank's Laotian neighbor Kahn walks up holding a poster from the museum with the piece. While Hank's friends are still laughing about Hank's colon for all to see, Kahn says, "There's nothing funny about this, you hillybilly moron! Can't you see the juxtaposition of Hank's clogged-up colon with that skinny, starving kid make deep statement about something? They cast stones at your colon from ignorance Hank. Your ass is genius! Can you get me on guest list for chi-chi art gallery party?"

Through the patriotic magic of an obscure Texas law making the defamation of the beef industry illegal, Hank is able to remove his x-ray from the museum.

I came to take down that picture of my private insides.

Although Hank was able to win, and keep his dignity intact, this episode brings to light some question about who "owns" imagery. Was the x-ray a found object, and therefore belonged to the artist?

Just this year, New York photographer Arne Svenson came under fire for taking pictures of his neighbors in Tribeca. He was very calculating in taking his pictures. They reveal just enough without giving away the identity of the subject. His neighbors were outraged, but he ended up winning a lawsuit brought against him, and his photographs were protected by the First Amendment. You can read about them here. You can see all the images from the series, The Neighbors here. They are really beautiful pictures. There is a timeless quality to them, and they could even be beautiful as paintings.

Other instances similar to this would be the photographs of the Czech photographer, Tichy. Most of the subjects of his photographs were women, who had no idea they were being photographed.

Let's be real. Who would ever believe that this would be an operational camera? But it was. And it made eerie, out-of-focus, photographs that are surprisingly nice. You can view them here.

So when is it OK to have your image used without permission? When it is anonymous? When it is a found object? When it is beautiful and flattering? Things can still go awry, even if a person knows his photograph has been taken to be used publicly... Just be sure you know what the final outcome will be.

From the episode of Friends, "The One Where Underdog Gets Away"

THANKSGIVING

I traveled home to Memphis for Thanksgiving. As it's a very short very family holiday, none of my friends were in town. Apparently, all I did was eat with my family -- exactly what I was supposed to do. I learned this from my drawings and photos during my trip. Mostly about food....

I've only been away from my family for three Thanksgivings. I missed my first shortly after I turned 21. I was doing a semester abroad in London. The country voted least likely to celebrate Thanksgiving. Our program put on a dinner for us. It was on a boat anchored in the Thames, and while it was a nice dinner, it wasn't the Thanksgiving I knew. There were Yorkshire puddings. The next day, I took the Oxford Tube to visit my friend who was studying there. I was staying overnight for Thanksgiving dinner, so clearly I packed a toothbrush, fresh underwear, several pounds of potatoes and a potato masher. We ate an obscene amount of food prepared in a kitchen no larger than my parents' bathroom and tried to convince her English friends that millions of Americans played the classic after dinner game of Pin the Hat on the Turkey. They bought it.

After college, I moved to Pennsylvania and flying home for two days really wasn't practical. It took planes trains and automobiles to get me there and almost 12 hours of travel. I spent my second Thanksgiving with a friend, and we prepared a spread of sides.... but no turkey. Turkey for two is laughably impractical, and neither of us wanted to spend a whole day cooking, so we fried up a pound of bacon instead. There are no leftovers for days when a pound of bacon is involved. I took myself on a date to the Philadelphia Museum of Art the next day.

The next year I was adopted by my boss and joined a large and ragtag bunch of children, significant others, mothers, friends, dogs, and cats. I initially balked at the idea of spending it with someone else's family and not having the role of girlfriend or distant cousin to play, but it was really nice, and one of the largest Thanksgivings I've been to. After that, I drove to Boston to stay with a friend from high school. We made silly faces and ate cannolis. I went to two museums, Sunday services in the "One if by Land, Two if by Sea" church, and reunited with some old friends from my first family-less Thanksgiving.

You'll be my family for a little while, / Until we get to where we're goin'.

My favorite song about Thanksgiving, written by some folks from home.
Cornucopia by Scandaliz Vandalistz

I learned a while ago that Thanksgiving is what you make of it, and as long as you spend it with people you like, it will usually be a great time. 

GOOD NEIGHBORS

A new, summery image of good neighbors and great friends. Happy Friday.