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COPYRIGHT 2008 ARTISTS I LOVE LP
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ALL THE MUSIC AND ARTWORK ON THIS WEBSITE IS DISPLAYED UNDER A
CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE
"You Must Wear Your Rue with a Difference”: Regret, and
the Coming Hard Times
by JR McCarthy
The common rue has greenish-yellow flowers, blue-green leaves,
a very strong odor and a bitter taste. In Europe, where it is found
everywhere, it has long been used as an antidote for poisons and
a bane for pernicious influences. Not surprisingly, it is also a
symbol for regret and lamentation.
When Ophelia brings rue, and a bevy of other talismanic flowers,
onto the stage in Act IV, scene five, of Hamlet, she has become
insane. Ophelia is delusional, and Shakespeare, as a rule,
provides next-to-no specific stage directions, so Ophelia usually
enters carrying, not a bouquet of flowers, but an assortment of
sticks and weeds. She distributes these to her brother, Laertes,
Hamlet’s mother, Queen Gertrude, and Hamlet’s murderous
uncle/stepfather, King Claudius. It is the second time in this scene
that Ophelia, the most blameless of all the doomed characters in
Shakespeare’s longest and most multi-layered tragedy, shares the
stage with Claudius, the most blood-stained. A director will often
use this scene to make a little allegorical hay, and Ophelia will
hand a weed to Claudius as she says:
“There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it herb
of grace o’ Sundays. You must wear your rue with a difference.”
Insufferable rides again. I want to break down Hamlet for an
audience that probably doesn’t want, and certainly doesn’t need
my help. Nevertheless, if you are willing to go along with me, for
the first time in a while, or for the first time ever, through the
twisted complexity of the Danish Tragedy, you will have a sense of
how I feel myself as I try to fathom both the depth and the
implications of the world-wide financial crisis. I am neither fond
of nor adept at untangling messes. This is particularly true when
each tendril of the tangle is articulated in jargon with which I am
less than familiar. If I take refuge from the messes that I cannot
fathom by trying to relate them to the messes that I can, I’m
certainly not hurting anyone, including myself. Also, who knows?
Some pale light may shine, and some consolation may be found if
an infuriating conundrum begins to become food for thought.
Come back with me to Elsinore for a spell.
Claudius is a regicidal, fratricidal lecher. He is about to beguile
Laertes into a new conspiracy to kill Hamlet. (This one will
succeed.) Laertes is only too willing to oblige, because Hamlet
recently killed Laertes’ father, Polonius, in a case of mistaken
identity. Ophelia may have become unhinged because Hamlet
killed her father, and there is also powerful evidence that she is
carrying Hamlet’s child. ( Laertes is apparently her older brother,
and the fact that no mention is ever made anywhere in the play of
their mother has led some scholars to speculate that she died
bringing Ophelia into the world.) The hypocritical windbag
Polonius was both heartless and ruthless when it came to his
daughter: he was dismissive of her feelings for Hamlet, but he
used her to spy on Hamlet in order to curry favor with Claudius. In
a tale where just about every monster of the human psyche is
dragged up into the cold light of day, nothing that transpires is
more predictable or inevitable than the annihilation of poor,
powerless Ophelia.
Rue is the only flower that the beleaguered Ophelia keeps for
herself. This may be as eloquent a statement on the nature of
regret as may be found in our literature. Ophelia is a victim of
both ruthless opportunism and callous indifference. Having
systematically lost everyone and everything about which she ever
cared, always through forces beyond her control and for reasons
that have nothing to do with her, she now begins to lose herself .
Made mad by betrayal and desolation, it is only a matter of time
before she falls, weedy trophies and all, into a brook and down to
muddy death. Ophelia is the collateral casualty of a protracted
abomination. How is it, even in madness, as she is passing out the
rue, that she has the subtlety to put a little rue aside for herself –
and to wear it with a difference?
America seems, in these difficult days, to be living in the age of
rue. Some of us rue the things we failed to do in that epochal time
when there did not seem to be an end to prosperity and plenty.
Some of us rue the things we did – the vain and greedy things we
did – when we believed that the gravy train was either never
going to derail, or would derail at some point in the distant future
when we had managed to get ourselves off of it. Whether this
time of piquant financial anxiety was thrust upon us by forces
beyond our control, or thrust upon others by forces we had a
hand in unleashing, there is no doubt that we’d all do things
differently if we had them to do over again – or at least, we’d try to
do things differently if we could only have one more chance……
In this age of rue, some of us have approached the role of
Claudius, which is to say that we were rapacious in our appetites
and abusive of our powers. In this age of rue, some of us have
enacted the roles of Polonius, or Laertes, or Gertrude, and we
were too weak or clueless to do anything but go along for the ride.
In this age of rue, some of us, like the Mournful Dane himself, are
bright and likeable souls who are paralyzed by the dilemma of
action vs. inaction. In this age of rue, we did or failed to do, and
we said or failed to say, while forces we never quite understood
hurled beyond our control.
Now in this age of rue, many, many of us will play the role of
Ophelia: bereft of comfort and despairing of place because people
who should have considered us did not, and people who had no
business trifling with us trifled just the same. Some of us may
even descend into madness. Most of us, hopefully, will grasp at
the shreds of our identity, and assert autonomy by taking stock.
That’s how you wear your rue with a difference.
The root of the English word regret is the French word for
“bewail” or “cry over” . The fact that we regret something does
not necessarily mean that we are even remotely responsible for
the fact that it occurred. It is neither seemly nor useful to assume
blame for misfortune one did not cause, or to troll along the banks
of misfortune in search of someone who will tell us that we are
blameless – which is of course, something that we already know.
Far less seemly, and considerably less useful, is being all about
blame. It is the depth of both calumny and cowardice when it is
the guilty party who points the finger, or tries to mitigate his guilt
by sending us in the direction of those he deigns guiltier than
himself, Such behavior always out-Herods Herod. What is difficult
to admit, and even more difficult to accept, is that once the
damage is done, fixing the blame rarely does anything to
illuminate the finer points, and is never anything but cold
comfort. Fix the problem, the Japanese say, not the blame.
When the problem is universal, and we have not yet plumbed its
depth, introspection is as good a place as any to begin the fix:
what can I learn, about myself and about everything else that is
truly important, from the coming hard times? How can I wear my
rue with a difference? I regret to say that I don’t yet know – but
I’ll get back to you.
J.R. McCarthy
the Coming Hard Times
by JR McCarthy
The common rue has greenish-yellow flowers, blue-green leaves,
a very strong odor and a bitter taste. In Europe, where it is found
everywhere, it has long been used as an antidote for poisons and
a bane for pernicious influences. Not surprisingly, it is also a
symbol for regret and lamentation.
When Ophelia brings rue, and a bevy of other talismanic flowers,
onto the stage in Act IV, scene five, of Hamlet, she has become
insane. Ophelia is delusional, and Shakespeare, as a rule,
provides next-to-no specific stage directions, so Ophelia usually
enters carrying, not a bouquet of flowers, but an assortment of
sticks and weeds. She distributes these to her brother, Laertes,
Hamlet’s mother, Queen Gertrude, and Hamlet’s murderous
uncle/stepfather, King Claudius. It is the second time in this scene
that Ophelia, the most blameless of all the doomed characters in
Shakespeare’s longest and most multi-layered tragedy, shares the
stage with Claudius, the most blood-stained. A director will often
use this scene to make a little allegorical hay, and Ophelia will
hand a weed to Claudius as she says:
“There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me. We may call it herb
of grace o’ Sundays. You must wear your rue with a difference.”
Insufferable rides again. I want to break down Hamlet for an
audience that probably doesn’t want, and certainly doesn’t need
my help. Nevertheless, if you are willing to go along with me, for
the first time in a while, or for the first time ever, through the
twisted complexity of the Danish Tragedy, you will have a sense of
how I feel myself as I try to fathom both the depth and the
implications of the world-wide financial crisis. I am neither fond
of nor adept at untangling messes. This is particularly true when
each tendril of the tangle is articulated in jargon with which I am
less than familiar. If I take refuge from the messes that I cannot
fathom by trying to relate them to the messes that I can, I’m
certainly not hurting anyone, including myself. Also, who knows?
Some pale light may shine, and some consolation may be found if
an infuriating conundrum begins to become food for thought.
Come back with me to Elsinore for a spell.
Claudius is a regicidal, fratricidal lecher. He is about to beguile
Laertes into a new conspiracy to kill Hamlet. (This one will
succeed.) Laertes is only too willing to oblige, because Hamlet
recently killed Laertes’ father, Polonius, in a case of mistaken
identity. Ophelia may have become unhinged because Hamlet
killed her father, and there is also powerful evidence that she is
carrying Hamlet’s child. ( Laertes is apparently her older brother,
and the fact that no mention is ever made anywhere in the play of
their mother has led some scholars to speculate that she died
bringing Ophelia into the world.) The hypocritical windbag
Polonius was both heartless and ruthless when it came to his
daughter: he was dismissive of her feelings for Hamlet, but he
used her to spy on Hamlet in order to curry favor with Claudius. In
a tale where just about every monster of the human psyche is
dragged up into the cold light of day, nothing that transpires is
more predictable or inevitable than the annihilation of poor,
powerless Ophelia.
Rue is the only flower that the beleaguered Ophelia keeps for
herself. This may be as eloquent a statement on the nature of
regret as may be found in our literature. Ophelia is a victim of
both ruthless opportunism and callous indifference. Having
systematically lost everyone and everything about which she ever
cared, always through forces beyond her control and for reasons
that have nothing to do with her, she now begins to lose herself .
Made mad by betrayal and desolation, it is only a matter of time
before she falls, weedy trophies and all, into a brook and down to
muddy death. Ophelia is the collateral casualty of a protracted
abomination. How is it, even in madness, as she is passing out the
rue, that she has the subtlety to put a little rue aside for herself –
and to wear it with a difference?
America seems, in these difficult days, to be living in the age of
rue. Some of us rue the things we failed to do in that epochal time
when there did not seem to be an end to prosperity and plenty.
Some of us rue the things we did – the vain and greedy things we
did – when we believed that the gravy train was either never
going to derail, or would derail at some point in the distant future
when we had managed to get ourselves off of it. Whether this
time of piquant financial anxiety was thrust upon us by forces
beyond our control, or thrust upon others by forces we had a
hand in unleashing, there is no doubt that we’d all do things
differently if we had them to do over again – or at least, we’d try to
do things differently if we could only have one more chance……
In this age of rue, some of us have approached the role of
Claudius, which is to say that we were rapacious in our appetites
and abusive of our powers. In this age of rue, some of us have
enacted the roles of Polonius, or Laertes, or Gertrude, and we
were too weak or clueless to do anything but go along for the ride.
In this age of rue, some of us, like the Mournful Dane himself, are
bright and likeable souls who are paralyzed by the dilemma of
action vs. inaction. In this age of rue, we did or failed to do, and
we said or failed to say, while forces we never quite understood
hurled beyond our control.
Now in this age of rue, many, many of us will play the role of
Ophelia: bereft of comfort and despairing of place because people
who should have considered us did not, and people who had no
business trifling with us trifled just the same. Some of us may
even descend into madness. Most of us, hopefully, will grasp at
the shreds of our identity, and assert autonomy by taking stock.
That’s how you wear your rue with a difference.
The root of the English word regret is the French word for
“bewail” or “cry over” . The fact that we regret something does
not necessarily mean that we are even remotely responsible for
the fact that it occurred. It is neither seemly nor useful to assume
blame for misfortune one did not cause, or to troll along the banks
of misfortune in search of someone who will tell us that we are
blameless – which is of course, something that we already know.
Far less seemly, and considerably less useful, is being all about
blame. It is the depth of both calumny and cowardice when it is
the guilty party who points the finger, or tries to mitigate his guilt
by sending us in the direction of those he deigns guiltier than
himself, Such behavior always out-Herods Herod. What is difficult
to admit, and even more difficult to accept, is that once the
damage is done, fixing the blame rarely does anything to
illuminate the finer points, and is never anything but cold
comfort. Fix the problem, the Japanese say, not the blame.
When the problem is universal, and we have not yet plumbed its
depth, introspection is as good a place as any to begin the fix:
what can I learn, about myself and about everything else that is
truly important, from the coming hard times? How can I wear my
rue with a difference? I regret to say that I don’t yet know – but
I’ll get back to you.
J.R. McCarthy
Waiting For Our Change
by David Blaine
Well as Barack Obama said recently, there is only one
president and one administration at a time in our United
States, and until Barack’s inauguration in January, it is the
presidency and administration of George W. Bush. But
already people are clamoring to discover what Obama’s plans
are, who he will choose as members in his cabinet, and
whether or not he has a magic wand or silver bullet to fix our
broken economy.
Like about fifty two percent of the voters, I was delighted with
the outcome of our recent election. There were a few
disappointments, Californians voting to ban gay marriage,
Alaskans trying to re-elect convicted felon Ted Stevens, and
those forty six percent of the voters who insisted that John
McCain was the person best suited to serve as our next
president.
There were so many issues to consider when deciding whom
to support and vote for during this past election. But if I had
to point to one reason as the deciding factor, for me it would
be Barack’s charisma. That idea may sound terribly shallow
so let me explain.
The greatest issue that turned me away from the McCain
campaign was his divisiveness. McCain was the man I had
hoped would win the presidency in 2000. In my mind, he was
the victim of Bush’s original, dirty campaign. But when push
came to shove, McCain went right back to the Bush playbook
and tried to turn his so-called “Red Americans” against those
archenemies, the “Blue Americans.”
I’ve always felt that Obama campaigned to be the president of
the entire country, and that he believes in America’s ability to
achieve great things when we are united. Many McCain
supporters have told me that it’s time to move on and that they
hope for the best from president-elect Obama. I’m glad to
hear that. These are tough times, we can’t afford the luxury
of finger pointing, and the best thing we can do is move
forward, united. I believe that Barack’s charismatic
leadership will be the glue that re-unites us as a single people
again.
My own hope is that Americans will begin to take a pro-active
approach to solving our nation’s problems. It is important to
vote, but it’s foolish to depend on one person, or even the
entire government, to solve problems that might best be
handled by the people themselves.
We are a terribly creative lot. At one time lumber mills
burned tons of by-products simply to get rid of them. Then
someone discovered that they could glue and press this mess
together and chipboard was born. Then someone else
discovered that if you lined the grain up, a stronger product
could be produced, and OSB, or oriented strand board, was
born. Now even I-beams and joists can be made from what
was once burned as waste. And cookie and candy companies
once had the problem of breakage creating waste until
someone figured out that this waste could be swirled into ice
cream. Now cookie and candy “pieces” are produced as a
highly desired product.
Looking to the past, I don’t choose to ignore all of our present
problems, I simply choose to remain optimistic that the same
resourcefulness that learned to turn garbage into valuable
products will again find answers to our most challenging
questions.
As we wait for our change, let me offer a simple idea and a
very simple saying.
Be the blessing.
There are times when we find ourselves in bad straits and
when we seem unable to do anything to help ourselves. Dale
Carnegie believed that the best thing to do then is help
someone else in any way we can. It takes our minds off our
own problems, it makes us feel good about ourselves, and it
produces tangible good, even if it is for someone else.
I can testify to the power in this and challenge everyone to try
it. Suspend your disbelief and search for ways to be the
blessing someone else needs today. You’ll sleep better
tonight. I guarantee it.
David Blaine is a published author and contributing editor for The
Guild of Outsider Wrtiers.org
Read more of his work and link to his website and books HERE
by David Blaine
Well as Barack Obama said recently, there is only one
president and one administration at a time in our United
States, and until Barack’s inauguration in January, it is the
presidency and administration of George W. Bush. But
already people are clamoring to discover what Obama’s plans
are, who he will choose as members in his cabinet, and
whether or not he has a magic wand or silver bullet to fix our
broken economy.
Like about fifty two percent of the voters, I was delighted with
the outcome of our recent election. There were a few
disappointments, Californians voting to ban gay marriage,
Alaskans trying to re-elect convicted felon Ted Stevens, and
those forty six percent of the voters who insisted that John
McCain was the person best suited to serve as our next
president.
There were so many issues to consider when deciding whom
to support and vote for during this past election. But if I had
to point to one reason as the deciding factor, for me it would
be Barack’s charisma. That idea may sound terribly shallow
so let me explain.
The greatest issue that turned me away from the McCain
campaign was his divisiveness. McCain was the man I had
hoped would win the presidency in 2000. In my mind, he was
the victim of Bush’s original, dirty campaign. But when push
came to shove, McCain went right back to the Bush playbook
and tried to turn his so-called “Red Americans” against those
archenemies, the “Blue Americans.”
I’ve always felt that Obama campaigned to be the president of
the entire country, and that he believes in America’s ability to
achieve great things when we are united. Many McCain
supporters have told me that it’s time to move on and that they
hope for the best from president-elect Obama. I’m glad to
hear that. These are tough times, we can’t afford the luxury
of finger pointing, and the best thing we can do is move
forward, united. I believe that Barack’s charismatic
leadership will be the glue that re-unites us as a single people
again.
My own hope is that Americans will begin to take a pro-active
approach to solving our nation’s problems. It is important to
vote, but it’s foolish to depend on one person, or even the
entire government, to solve problems that might best be
handled by the people themselves.
We are a terribly creative lot. At one time lumber mills
burned tons of by-products simply to get rid of them. Then
someone discovered that they could glue and press this mess
together and chipboard was born. Then someone else
discovered that if you lined the grain up, a stronger product
could be produced, and OSB, or oriented strand board, was
born. Now even I-beams and joists can be made from what
was once burned as waste. And cookie and candy companies
once had the problem of breakage creating waste until
someone figured out that this waste could be swirled into ice
cream. Now cookie and candy “pieces” are produced as a
highly desired product.
Looking to the past, I don’t choose to ignore all of our present
problems, I simply choose to remain optimistic that the same
resourcefulness that learned to turn garbage into valuable
products will again find answers to our most challenging
questions.
As we wait for our change, let me offer a simple idea and a
very simple saying.
Be the blessing.
There are times when we find ourselves in bad straits and
when we seem unable to do anything to help ourselves. Dale
Carnegie believed that the best thing to do then is help
someone else in any way we can. It takes our minds off our
own problems, it makes us feel good about ourselves, and it
produces tangible good, even if it is for someone else.
I can testify to the power in this and challenge everyone to try
it. Suspend your disbelief and search for ways to be the
blessing someone else needs today. You’ll sleep better
tonight. I guarantee it.
David Blaine is a published author and contributing editor for The
Guild of Outsider Wrtiers.org
Read more of his work and link to his website and books HERE
FOR PREVIOUS JR MCCARTHY ARTICLES, VISIT THE FREE LIBRARY
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ARTICLES FROM THE BLUE REVIEW
ARTICLES FROM THE BLUE REVIEW
DECEMBER, 2008
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
J.R. MCCARTHY COLUMN
POST - ELECTION ARTICLE FROM DAVID BLAINE
NEW ELIZABETH HELLMAN BOOK
PT WALKLEY ON THE NEW ELVIS COSTELLO SHOW
ARTIST IN REVIEW: JENNIFER AVELON
J.R. MCCARTHY COLUMN
POST - ELECTION ARTICLE FROM DAVID BLAINE
NEW ELIZABETH HELLMAN BOOK
PT WALKLEY ON THE NEW ELVIS COSTELLO SHOW
ARTIST IN REVIEW: JENNIFER AVELON
SOMEBODY
DISCOVERED
Sundance Channel and DELL (PRODUCT) RED present
the DISCOVERED emerging artist series — a sequence
of short vignettes highlighting independent musicians
on the rise. Experience each vignette here on the
Lounge, and get familiar with DISCOVERED artists
before the rest of the world does.
MEET P.T. WALKLEY
Starting off the DISCOVERED series
is the multi-talented P.T. Walkley from
New York City. Take a look at his
DISCOVERED vignette — check
back on Dec 3 to see his full artist
profile and interview.
Watch >
Sundance Channel and DELL (PRODUCT) RED present
the DISCOVERED emerging artist series — a sequence
of short vignettes highlighting independent musicians
on the rise. Experience each vignette here on the
Lounge, and get familiar with DISCOVERED artists
before the rest of the world does.
MEET P.T. WALKLEY
Starting off the DISCOVERED series
is the multi-talented P.T. Walkley from
New York City. Take a look at his
DISCOVERED vignette — check
back on Dec 3 to see his full artist
profile and interview.
Watch >
When the Labyrinth is Deciphered It Will Disappear
by Elizabeth Hellman
The poems in Elizabeth Hellman’s remarkable collection --
various, rich, generous -- sing and tell stories at the same time.
They comprise a journey through years and distant places, and
though no route is mapped, no chronology measured, to read
them is to watch these lyrical narratives gather, like stars, into
a radiant constellation that takes the shape of a life. When the
Labyrinth Is Deciphered it Will Disappear is a book possessed
of a genuine beauty.
–Chuck Wachtel
Does Elizabeth Hellman imbue her subjects with poetry, or
does she find the poetry that lives within those subjects, and
bring it to the light? In the spirit of the title of this remarkable
volume, it may be reckless to speculate. Fortunately, it is
perfectly safe to say that Elizabeth Hellman's poetry is
splendidly and poignantly alive. A good poet doesn’t tell us
when she can show us, and a good poet doesn’t show us when
she can bring us to the center, and let us see for ourselves.
Elizabeth Hellman has brought me to the center of the rings of
Saturn. She has brought me to places both romantic and
forlorn. Bless her, she has brought me to familiar places, and
she has invited me to see them from another perspective. All
the while, her voice is poised and subtle. She uses words
elegantly, and she encapsulates the fleeting moment before it
can fade away. When the Labyrinth is Deciphered it will
Disappear is haunting, quietly powerful, and eminently re-
readable.
– J.R. McCarthy, author of Ambivalid
by Elizabeth Hellman
The poems in Elizabeth Hellman’s remarkable collection --
various, rich, generous -- sing and tell stories at the same time.
They comprise a journey through years and distant places, and
though no route is mapped, no chronology measured, to read
them is to watch these lyrical narratives gather, like stars, into
a radiant constellation that takes the shape of a life. When the
Labyrinth Is Deciphered it Will Disappear is a book possessed
of a genuine beauty.
–Chuck Wachtel
Does Elizabeth Hellman imbue her subjects with poetry, or
does she find the poetry that lives within those subjects, and
bring it to the light? In the spirit of the title of this remarkable
volume, it may be reckless to speculate. Fortunately, it is
perfectly safe to say that Elizabeth Hellman's poetry is
splendidly and poignantly alive. A good poet doesn’t tell us
when she can show us, and a good poet doesn’t show us when
she can bring us to the center, and let us see for ourselves.
Elizabeth Hellman has brought me to the center of the rings of
Saturn. She has brought me to places both romantic and
forlorn. Bless her, she has brought me to familiar places, and
she has invited me to see them from another perspective. All
the while, her voice is poised and subtle. She uses words
elegantly, and she encapsulates the fleeting moment before it
can fade away. When the Labyrinth is Deciphered it will
Disappear is haunting, quietly powerful, and eminently re-
readable.
– J.R. McCarthy, author of Ambivalid
 |  |  |  |  |
Artist in Review: Jennifer Avelon (Written By Jamesson
Beane) 9/2/08
Strap on your seatbelts! Jennifer Avelon is an artist who has
burst onto the scene with works that are sometimes visceral,
at other times seductive and at all times in your face. Whether
she’s tackling religious archetypes in black and white (i.e.
“The Crowd is Coming”) or celebrating the female form with
candid eroticism (i.e. “Lounging in Lavendar”), Avelon’s vision
is daring, passionate and full of life.
Avelon expresses a quiet creativity in many of her sketch
works, including the captivating “The Crowd is Coming,”
which depicts a moment preceding Christ’s hanging on the
cross. With one hand covering his face, Jesus stares directly
at the spectator with a look that cries out for compassion
while a menacing crowd of anonymous faces lingers in the
background. The image is haunting in its simplicity, drawing
the viewer in with a raw subtlety that’s both fascinating and
unnerving.
Perhaps the most exciting pieces from Avelon’s current body
of work are her pin-up images, which celebrate the female
form with pop art sentiments and eye catching colors. The
images literally explode off the canvas due in part to Avelon’s
inclusion of actual pieces of material on the canvas, including
silk fabric, nail files and other such 3-Dimensional touches.
“Beauty Shop” could easily brighten up any salon with its
playful beauties relaxing in bikinis while inviting the viewer to
step into their world. “Telephone” features a stunning beauty
holding a phone with contrasting fabric accents in the
wallpaper and the model’s lingerie. And in “Smoking Again,” a
seductive female figure stares at the viewer with cigarette in
hand, beckoning him or her on a ride of sin much like a
femme fatale out of a 1940s film noir.
Avelon shows a range in her work that proves she is a force to
be reckoned with in the art world. She tackles matters of the
heart, spirituality and sexuality with a fresh approach and a
keen sense of wonder and excitement. This is one journey
that is certainly just beginning, so jump on her train of
creativity as it tunnels full steam ahead.
Beane) 9/2/08
Strap on your seatbelts! Jennifer Avelon is an artist who has
burst onto the scene with works that are sometimes visceral,
at other times seductive and at all times in your face. Whether
she’s tackling religious archetypes in black and white (i.e.
“The Crowd is Coming”) or celebrating the female form with
candid eroticism (i.e. “Lounging in Lavendar”), Avelon’s vision
is daring, passionate and full of life.
Avelon expresses a quiet creativity in many of her sketch
works, including the captivating “The Crowd is Coming,”
which depicts a moment preceding Christ’s hanging on the
cross. With one hand covering his face, Jesus stares directly
at the spectator with a look that cries out for compassion
while a menacing crowd of anonymous faces lingers in the
background. The image is haunting in its simplicity, drawing
the viewer in with a raw subtlety that’s both fascinating and
unnerving.
Perhaps the most exciting pieces from Avelon’s current body
of work are her pin-up images, which celebrate the female
form with pop art sentiments and eye catching colors. The
images literally explode off the canvas due in part to Avelon’s
inclusion of actual pieces of material on the canvas, including
silk fabric, nail files and other such 3-Dimensional touches.
“Beauty Shop” could easily brighten up any salon with its
playful beauties relaxing in bikinis while inviting the viewer to
step into their world. “Telephone” features a stunning beauty
holding a phone with contrasting fabric accents in the
wallpaper and the model’s lingerie. And in “Smoking Again,” a
seductive female figure stares at the viewer with cigarette in
hand, beckoning him or her on a ride of sin much like a
femme fatale out of a 1940s film noir.
Avelon shows a range in her work that proves she is a force to
be reckoned with in the art world. She tackles matters of the
heart, spirituality and sexuality with a fresh approach and a
keen sense of wonder and excitement. This is one journey
that is certainly just beginning, so jump on her train of
creativity as it tunnels full steam ahead.
Celebrate publishing's independent spirit with over 100 indie
publishers from around the world, all under one roof, selling
books you can't get at your big box bookstore. The Indie and Small
Press Book is one of New York City's favorite annual literary
events. It's free, open to all, and packed with an exciting line-up of
public events. Donations encouraged.
All events take place at NYCIP, The General Society, 20 West 44th
Street, NY.
publishers from around the world, all under one roof, selling
books you can't get at your big box bookstore. The Indie and Small
Press Book is one of New York City's favorite annual literary
events. It's free, open to all, and packed with an exciting line-up of
public events. Donations encouraged.
All events take place at NYCIP, The General Society, 20 West 44th
Street, NY.
