Zombie: A Mindless Affair (also an awesome one)

Night Cemetery
Deborah Boardman
gouache on paper
2007

Zombie: A Mindless Affair
Curated by: Edra Soto

Also Project Wall Space:Irene Perez

ZOMBIE ARTISTS:
C Through Outfit (Erik Brown, Catie Olsen, Carl Warnik and Dawn Reed)
Deborah Boardman
Nate Lee
Jason Mena
Mindy Rose Schwartz
Amanda Browder
Derek Chan
Christopher Simkins
Christopher Smith
Ann Toebbe
Harold Mendez
Paul Nudd
Noah Berlatsky
Vladimir Kharitonsky
Dan Peters
Gretel Garcia
Susannah Kite Strang
Rachel Hewitt
Corinne Halbert
Bert Stabler
Beatriz Monteavaro
Miguel Cortez
Edra Soto
Candace Briceno
Death by Design Co. (Teena McClelland and Michelle Maynard)
The Wiener Girls (Sydney Croskery and Katey Rafanello)
Betsy Odum
Jen Thomas and Bobby Lively
Chris Hammes
Andrea Jablonski
Jeff Libersher

ABOUT: Zombie: A Mindless Affair

Celebrations that invite us to observe a historical occurrence are still strongly practiced in contemporary culture. Halloween, as celebrated is America, profoundly depicts the strongest features from gothic and horror literature, film, TV, and graphic arts. Among the repertoire of traditional characters, the zombie distinguishes itself for possessing the biology and behavior of a normal human being, yet lacks consciousness. This exhibition uses the vernacular of the mythological zombie as a starting point to engage in ideas of death, mindlessness and symbolisms for the occult and inexplicable. The term zombie also intends to address issues referring to the mindless self in a social spectrum: leading and following; acts of automatism and fanatic behaviors.

From 6:30-7:00pm on opening night:
Join author Scott Kenemore, artist Mindy Rose Schuartz and collaborators Teena McClelland and Michelle Maynard from Death by Design Co. in conversation. They will talk about the darkness that enlightens their work. Screening of the film made by Death by Design Co. immediately after the conversation. Moderated by Edra Soto

Opening Friday October 23 from 6pm-10pm
October 23 - November 21, 2009

ANTENA
1765 S. Laflin St.
Chicago IL 60608
www.antenapilsen.com
antenapilsen (at) gmail.com
(773) 257-3534
Hours: by appointment only

This is all the info on a show that I'm going to be in. It will be great because I will be there, as will a few zombies, no doubt.

Rolling Down to Old Maui

"We're not like other women. We don't have to clean an oven. And we nev-er will grow olllllllllld....We've got the world by the tail!"

I heard a song that sounded as though it were coming from a ballerina music box under the sea. Melodic whalesongs for the mermaids. It made me want to dive into the ocean. It made me want to come over to your house and force you to drive me to Florida so we could go to Weeki Wachee Springs. Right now.

I won't lie, though sometimes I can be impulsive, I struggle with spontaneity. I don't always "get" it. I panic when my "To Do" list is thrown off track. I'm learning.

Thank God for the little things that actually allow me to embrace impulse. Sometimes they just make my day.

P.S. Let's go to Weeki Wachee and stop by Dollywood along the way!

Amen

Because there's never an excuse NOT to wear a pink dress, pearls, and gloves. Even while floating down a river.

Keeping the Baby, Tossing out the Bathwater, Hanging onto a Few of the Bubbles

I lay on my back in the not deep enough tub, bellybutton filling with a smaller bath, bare knees, bare breasts, bare belly poking out of the shallow water. In boredom, pretending, and failing, to languish in a Marie Antoinette tub recalled another time, and another place. A tub in Paris that was so deep that the water came up to my little button nose when seated fully upright.

Left footed toes turning the hot water on, warming the water like a toddler pissing in the baby pool. I got bored and drained the tub, remaining in repose until the water was gone, watching the whirlpool in the drain the way my Ahmaw had shown me as a child.

Left to my own devices, I've never had any idea what to do with myself. Left in my own head, I can be downright ridiculous. Thoughts as self-indulgent as Cleopatra's perfumed baths find their way into my brain, but who can blame a girl for wanting all things sensuous and beautiful and pretty?

Is it so wrong to imagine a utopia populated by various versions of myself, arm in arm with a charming beau, waltzing down tree lined avenues, eating dinners on rooftop balconies, and sipping champagne, engaged in effortless conversation? Is it so wrong to imagine a scenario in which my suitor is not touched in the head, in the slightest? Methinks not.

Perhaps we should forgive ourselves our little slips, our little dreams, our little fantasies, and not be so hard on ourselves for otherwise misguided wishful thinking.

Please Sir, I'm a Lady

I thought you were the kind of girl who knew when to say when...I don't really know what kind of girl I am...

I've been thinking about what it means to be a girl, a woman, a lady a lot these days. I was never the low-maintenance, tomboy that my mother had probably hoped for. She could never do hair, and I could see her cringe as I changed from one pretty dress to another, or wore my ruffle butted little panties backwards so I could see the ruffles more easily.

In conversation with a friend, she expressed her concern at a certain boy's potentially chauvinistic views towards women, afraid that his old-fashioned ways come from the idea that boys are better than girls. In my own special brand of naiveté, all I could think of was "How could that be? Everyone knows girls are better. I would never want to be a boy!"

There's always more to every story, obviously, than what's right out there in the table of contents, but here's a veritable table of contents about what kind of girl I am:

• I'm the kind of girl who wakes up at 6:30 A.M. to talk to her stuffed animals about their feelings.

• I'm the kind of girl who will help you tear wet carpet out of your flooded basement.

• I'm the kind of girl who rides her bike in a skirt.

• I'm the kind of girl who understands the importance of matching glasses and a tasteful thank you note.

• I'm the kind of girl who has read the complete works of Shakespeare and also PostSecret.

• I'm the kind of girl you'd least expect.

• I'm the kind of girl who appreciates a healthy, mature debate.
  

• I'm the kind of girl who legitimately wonders why ladies shun the full slip nowadays.

• I'm the kind of girl who can cook anything you could dream up. Even poached eggs.

• I'm the kind of girl who refuses to accept less than the best (though I've been guilty of doing otherwise at various points in my life).

• I'm the kind of girl who just signed up for a 2.5k open water swim. It's next week.

• I'm the kind of girl who wants to figure out exactly what she wants, figure out how to get it, and then do that.

• I'm the kind of girl who appreciates a man's man.

• I'm the kind of girl who loves her family and friends more than they'll ever know.

• I'm the kind of girl who is taking back all the things that seemed like they were lost.

• I'm the kind of girl who wants to live in a treehouse, but also really wants to have a beautiful home and a beautiful family.

• I'm the kind of girl who reads 1950's etiquette books.

• I'm the kind of girl who can take apart a futon and pack your U-Haul like it's a game of Tetris. I will do this wearing pearls and a smile.

• I'm the kind of girl who can appreciate what kind of girl all the other ladies are.

What kind of girl are you?

Wherever You Go...

"Our battered suitcases were were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life."

For some people, the urge to flee is like mother's milk, and they thrive on the casting off of tethers. In needing to be settled, I on the other hand, tend to find comfort in the familiarity of a home, a designated place. Yet, that same urge comes creeping in, on occasion, clawing at the edges of my nerves like a curious little kitten.

It would be easy for me to say that my current urge to relocate to a tiny rust belt town and start a new life on some dusty porch comes from a recent trip to Michigan. This is partly true.

The other part is the scary part. When faced with the possibility of real risk, or of making an adult decision, or of coming too close to something that I desperately want, my initial reaction is to turn coat and leap off a bridge. I think the crux of the problem lies in that in facing the final confrontation with risk, I have to imagine myself vividly in another life, in an intricately painted tableau, just to cushion the blow of a possible letdown. I have to give myself an imaginary out.

Though I would never just drop it all and run, there's comfort in knowing that I've talked myself into the possibility of an alternative, because really, wherever you are is the place to be.

That said, I'm attempting to make a conscious decision to look at the real lesson in that philosophy and remind myself that wherever I am right now is the place to be.

Here's to embracing life with confidence and gusto...and taking a few chances.