Day jobs

Every time I meet someone new and they ask me what I do, I cringe inside.  Because I know exactly what's about to happen next. 

I say I'm an artist.  Then they say some version of- "Oh, do you make money doing that?" 

This happens every single time.  EVERY TIME. 

Then I look like a bitch because I'm making some sort of pissy face while I swallow my rage and my need to tell them to go fuck themselves.

This shit is rude.  How can you tell?  Well, if you said you worked in a lawyer's office and I replied back-- "What, do you make money  doing that??"-- or "So do you make A LOT of money doing that?"-- You would think I was a rude asshole.

Do you know why?  Because I would be BEING a rude asshole. 

Now.  Josh says that we should get rid of this social taboo we have of not ever discussing how much money we make because it only helps the employers and capitalists, and it hurts the workers.  I agree with that.

But this is different, because the code behind the question to an artist-- "Do you make money doing that?"-- is are you a real artist.  And the answer to that is YES.  And also FUCK YOU.  YES, I am a REAL goddamn artist.   NO, how much money I made off of art last year doesn't determine if I get to "count" as an artist or not.

Artists make art.  If you make art, and you care about art-- guess what?  You're an artist!  If you think about your art all the time and you work at it-- you are an artist.  No one gets to take a look at your tax return and decide you don't qualify. 

If you say-- "I'm an artist"-- and you never make anything, you're kidding yourself.  But if you work on your art, guess what? You're an artist.  There's no artist certificate that makes you An Artist.  The Art Police aren't going to come to your house and demand to see your resume so they can check on how many gallery shows you've had.  That's not a thing.

But here's a clue for the rest of the straight world-- for all those people who aren't engaged in creative work-- almost all of us need day jobs to make it.  Artists, musicians, writers, actors-- a lot of us have to spend a lot of time doing random other work for money so we can pay our bills.

This doesn't make us failures, or people who are engaged in "hobbies".  It means that a capitalist system doesn't value our labor.  Now, if you'll look around you, you may find a lot of other people doing really important work that capitalism also doesn't value-- teachers, health care workers, activists, restaurant workers, farm workers.

Does this mean that teachers and activists are engaged in silly and pointless work?  No, it fucking does not.   It means that we have decided as a society that we'd rather pay tons of money to bankers to fuck us all over than to people who are doing the work that all of us actually need.

And when I'm looking at how long it took me to write out this whole vaguely Marxist critique, I can see why I just smile a tight, angry smile and say-- Yes.  I DO make money doing that.

In my head, criticizing capitalism = Marxism, but Josh says this isn't really correct.  Then he explained to me (again) what Marxist work actually is in an academic context, but it was long and I forgot again.  So let's just say that I'm working outside the bounds of academic context.  Which you probably should have been able to guess from all the swears.

 

Cabin Boy

You should have seen the face Josh made when I said I really wanted to watch Cabin Boy. 

David Letterman's riveting performance from the 1994 cinematic tour-de-force, "Cabin Boy". http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0109361/ For those of you too young to remember, Chris Elliott started out on Dave's original NBC show, "Late Night". This is still Letterman's only significant movie role, and this is his entire appearance in the film.

It was not the face of being excited to watch something. 

Fisheye camera

I just got a camera with a fisheye lens.   It's kind of amazing. 

fisheye 2.jpg

I got actual rolls of film!  I had completely forgotten how to load film into a camera. 

fisheye 17.jpg

It just reminds me that every material has it's own look.  Film!  Old school!  I have no idea what I'm shooting when I'm clicking the shutter. 

Ice cream taste testing

It's been a fuck of a week.  I've been sick for what seems like forever, and now I got my stupid period.  And it's sucking the life out of me and turning me into a mushy thing of bleh. 

(If you're thinking, oh I wish she hadn't mentioned her period, eww gross. I have to tell you-- stop being such a weenus and grow up.) 

Anyway.  Please enjoy these ice cream tasting videos from earlier in the year, and the horrified faces I make when tasting the weirdness flavors we got.

 

Josh tastes our ice cream share from Little Baby's in Philadelphia. Little Baby's makes ice cream from really interesting and different flavors. If you're in Fishtown, check them out!

Ali tastes our ice cream share from Little Baby's in Philadelphia. Little Baby's makes ice cream from really interesting and different flavors. If you're in Fishtown, check them out!

The Women of yesterday

I've started working with vintage ads in my painting and collage work.   It's a pretty big change from what I was doing before, but I was getting a little bored with the zombie-ish/sad figures.  

I was ready for a change.  I found these old ads and got excited about them, so here we are. 

detail shot

detail shot

These ads just make me LOL my little heart out.  This really isn't the style anymore.  It's like comparing an episode of Leave It to Beaver to Game of Thrones.  And you think, man, shit is crazy different now! 

Sad stories of the death of kings

Sad stories of the death of kings

These poor women are required to be shockingly perky and really  happy.

I don't approve.  I want to say-- I don't do perky.  All smug like some cool kid on TV.

But I can be pretty up and bouncy.  I am excitable.   So that would be a lie.

However.  My mouth tends to turn down when I'm thinking or just kind of not engaged. Which leads to a level of somewhat permanent bitchface.  And people are always telling me to smile!  Or asking me why I'm mad when I was just thinking about what to cook for dinner.

It's fucking irritating.  SUPER irritating.  I don't owe you an expression of emotion that makes you feel more comfortable.  If you are some rando, I frankly don't give a shit how you feel about me.  And I would invite you to keep it moving.

Just another white trash Cinderella dream

Just another white trash Cinderella dream

A few additional scattered thoughts-- 

--An idea about how women's bodies are turned into fat cash by capitalism, which sells us everything, even our "proper" emotions.  

 --It makes it a little creepy to look at these women when they can't look back.   

--I like the fortune cookies because the things they say are so banal.  

 --These images are from the  (so-called) golden era of America that so many conservatives want to drag us all back to.  Funny how when they reminisce about how awesome every thing was back in the 50s, early 60s, or before- they really only mean for them, the White Dude Nation.  I don't know about you, but I don't exactly pine for a time before I could legally have my own money or had to look in the Women Only section of the job ads. (Where all the shitty jobs were.)

 --We are so scared of China now.  It is interesting to me to take a so-called Chinese thing, the fortune cookies (which aren't even Chinese) and integrate them into these ads from post WWII America.  The fortune cookies came packaged in some Chinese language newspaper, and I've been using that too in my collage.

--Goddamn, these ads are white.  They are the whitest fucking thing I've ever seen.  I haven't been able to find a single one with any people of color in it.  Except one.  For Aunt Jemima.  And HELLS NO I'm not using that. 

A slap in the face is what you get for asking

A slap in the face is what you get for asking

And now-- the weirdest goddamn ad I've found so far.

Too much has gone wrong to keep pretending

Too much has gone wrong to keep pretending

What in the name of holy FUCK is happening here??  I promise you, this ad looked like creepy fucksticks before I did anything to it.

too much has gone wrong to keep pretending2.JPG

OMG.  What is happening ??  It's too weird.

The Most cake

I downloaded Hole's Live Through This a couple of days ago.  I have a couple of other different copies of this album floating around somewhere, but I've moved so many times that I lost them.

I loved this album when I was in high school.  I also adored Courtney Love.  Jen and I have discussed Courtney a couple of times on the podcast.  I keep saying how sad she makes me now, that she seems to struggle with her demons so hard and so publicly.

When I was a teenager, I just assumed Courtney Love would go on to kick the world in the ass and scream in its face.  I wanted her to be my big sister. 

I fucking hated Alabama. 

Me at 15.

Me at 15.

You may be asking yourself, is Ali wearing eyeball dangly earrings in her school portrait?  

Fuck yeah I am.  LIKE A BOSS.  If I hadn't lost those earrings, I would STILL wear them.  And I wore that Ren and Stimpy shirt until it pretty much fell apart.  

Do I look like I'm filled with rage and punching?  Because I really was.  I discovered in freshman year that the only way to stop the almost constant bullying that I had been dealing with since elementary school was to start fighting back.

Not metaphor fighting.  Trying to knock people down and punch their teeth out fighting while screaming like a crazy person.  I found this out by accident when I flipped my shit one day. 

 

Music video by Hole performing Violet. (C) 1994 Geffen Records

I've been thinking about being a teenager lately because I've been dealing with issues with my sister.  Many of our current problems go back to that time.  Remembering how I felt at that time made me think of Hole.

 Also when people talk about how fat they are, my (very mature) response is to try to make myself look as fat as possible and then yell CAKE CAKE CAAAAAKE!  I WILL EAT ALL THE CAKE! 

Which leads me to being the girl with the most cake which leads me back to Hole. 

Most of my memories of high school are flavored with rage and hate and helplessness.  I learned some bad lessons that it's taken a long time to unlearn-- like no one will ever help you and that aggressiveness is a good response to every situation.   I still tend to try to figure out how to just handle things on my own because I don't expect any help.  

I am the girl you know, can't look you in the eye.

I learned that help tends to come with strings attached.  That to ask for help is to give up all your say in your own life.  And even then the help isn't actually helpful.  

So fuck it.  It's my life, and I'll do what I want.

I must have listened to Live Through This almost every day, on a loop, for years.  And that is what helped me.