Hi Everyone,
Happy 2010!
Just wanted to let you know I am auctioning off 2 ACEO’s (Original Art Cards) on ebay where 100% of the proceeds will go to the Haitian Health Foundation The bidding starts at only $0.95 and includes free shipping in the US.
To make a bid please go here
Thanks for your continued support and have a healthy and happy 2010.
Jacquie Gouveia
Contemporary Artist
http://www.jgouveia.com
http://twitter.com/jgouveia
ACEO's for Haiti
It’s winter time again and in lieu of freezing in my unheated studio, my need for expressing myself is fulfilled via writing. The thoughts of this posting have been brewing in my mind for quite some time - as you shall read.
Last Spring the country, or even perhaps the world, was passionately and excitedly divided on who would become the next American Idol. The contestants, need I remind you, Kris Allen (I had to look up his last name) and Adam Lambert. Sometime during the last few weeks of the AI season I asked my sweet young niece who she wanted to win, Adam or Kris? As she often does, she gazed at me with her huge blue eyes and responded in a very serious, deep voice “Kris.” [she pauses] “Adam frightens me.” Naturally I laughed at both her answer and her delivery - thinking how sweet and cute she it. Arrogantly I thought how she’s not yet mature enough to appreciate Adam’s uniqueness and intensity. Over the next couple of days, however, her comment “Adam frightens me” replayed in my mind. I wasn’t sure why until out of the blue, it hit me; I had this same awkward feeling about David Bowie – and right around the same age.
On December 15, 1979, David Bowie performed “The Man Who Sold the World” on Saturday Night Live backed by Klaus Nomi and Joey Arias. While the nation was gearing up to celebrate Christmas and the season of ‘love, joy and good tidings’. David Bowie, dressed like a character out of “Alice in Wonderland’, was carried from the back of the stage to his microphone like a movie display poster board. The entire unnerving performance, music, design, movements and facial expressions reached far down into the sparse, dark, subway part of my subconscious - labeled “not ready to deal with” - and limp legged-ly dragged some odd emotions to the surface. Even 30 years later I can clearly remember the strange and uncomfortable “high fever dream” feeling that performance gave me. In high school girls would chime on about how sexy and gorgeous Bowie was. Just the mention of his name sent my vividly expressive imagination into overdrive.
Although I am no longer “frightened” by Bowie, have loved his music for a long time, seeing the SNL video of that bizarre performance unleashes those young “not ready to deal with” feelings. And I’m intrigued that my niece has had the same emotionally experience regarding Adam Lambert. As his career explodes over the coming decades, I wonder how my niece will feel about him later in life.
Watch the classic video: David Bowie SNL 1979
Open your window
and open your door.
For the season of skin
has returned like before.
Remove all your shoes
and run through the field.
The snow has departed
the chill is on yield.
Shorten your skirts
and pin up your hair.
The beach welcomes you
while songs loudly blare.
Remove those tank tops
when you toss that frisbee.
Let summer own you.
Now surrender, it’s free.
Audry, Audry,
You embarrass me so.
By draggin’ your butt
across the crisp white snow.
Your joy is so apparent.
Relief, it’s oh so coherent.
But where you chug around,
You leave a streak of brown.
Audry, Audry
How I miss you so.
No more butt to drag,
Across the crisp white snow.
A house just for two.
From lego’s of blue.
He built for his love, Eleanor.
This palace for thee.
They entered as we.
He then turned
And sealed up the door.
Frank eat your peas.
His mother said, “please”.
So strong you will grow.
The plate he did clean
Along with her spleen.
And now she’ll never know.
Minnie, Minnie, sweet and skinny.
Running for your life.
When will you stop
Sneakers replaced with a mop?
And become the devil’s wife.
Sneaky, peaky little mouse.
Scratching on my closet door.
Come out, come out to see your future.
And soon you’ll be sneaky no more.
My friend Jane
is really quite plain.
With green eyes
and long lashes.
One day she cracked
when home, she went back.
And surprised her lover
with thirty slashes.
Believe it or not, I finally watched “The Dark Knight” yesterday. It was specifically to witness the late Heath Ledger’s performance. As I expected, he was extraordinary - I felt creepy, uncomfortable and disturbed - which was awesome! Since this article is not about the movie per se, I’ll keep my comments about everyone and everything else to myself - I was able to let that all loose at the dinner table.
Ledger as the Joker
As I watched, listened and felt Ledger transform into the sinister role of the Joker, it made me think about something else very frightening. Many artists, at some point in their career must face the horrifying question, “will I ever live up to this performance?”. And I began to wonder and speculate whether Ledger was fearfully looking into the grotesque face of the Joker and asking himself this very question. Artists in general are constantly battling self doubts, insecurities and feelings of not being good enough. The pressure to create something new or surpass a previous performance can be intensely suffocating. These feelings and emotions are real and not for dramatic affect. Ask any painter, musician, writer, actor etc. and they will all agree the self doubts have the ability to cripple you - if you let it. Did the vicious side of the art world get the best of Ledger?
When you are just starting out in any art form you are blessed with the adventurous purity of being a discover. For years while creating early works we are constantly experimenting, and trying things out. Allowing curiosity to drive and see what works and what doesn’t. Often times, it is during this discovery phase of our career that the rawness and uncertainty within our work is the most endearing aspect. Slowly, however, we begin to cross over to borrowing against our previous experiences and using a bit of this and a bit of that. The voice of the discoverer gets softer while the experienced and more mature artist takes center stage. And yes, of course, the mature works are magnificent, but they lack just a hint of something pure. But the entire process in and of itself is meant to happen - it is it’s own life cycle.
Unfortunately, for so many artists, the reality is just too much. The list of creative casualties is an exhaustive one where the fear became too great. But as the big Hollywood quote in the movie goes, “you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain”. Did Ledger live and die by this?