I’m Amanda. I’ve got wide eyes, a smart mouth, and a MetroCard. And I’m not afraid to use them.
Today’s my 28th birthday.
To reference Sinatra, I’ll sum up the last year this way: “When I was 27, it was a very bad year.”
I’m optimistic that things are different, starting today. I’m stronger and wiser with experience. Things have been looking up for weeks. No one gets this much rain without eventually seeing some huge effing flowers.
And everybody knows it sucks to grow up. I’m not alone, and I’ve got exhibits A-C to prove it.
This weekend I worked and walked around the city with Cade.
Had I been in California, I’d have checked out the Competitive Swinging installation in Sausalito.
The artist Pa0lo Salvagione installed 10 swings in an old gymnasium and waited for people to come and turn them into art.
I wholly approve.
It’s always hard to explain to my friends from the Northeast that I grew up where Christianity was compulsory. Everyone believed in God and our lord and personal savior Jesus Christ, because…
Just because.
It’s how everything was explained and not explained. Things that didn’t make sense were part of a plan we were too small to see.
I can’t pinpoint the moment when I went from a confident, inquisitive kid to a self-conscious adolescent, but I think God must have been at the root. One day I went from believing in Him, because it’s what everyone did, to doubting such a being could exist. And if there were some sort of God, I was skeptical that He or She or It would hold some of the beliefs that everyone said He or She or It did.
Since reading Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project, I’ve been really interested in cognitive science. I think a lot of people associate psychology with big life events, like how we process trauma. I’m interested in the daily mental grind that determines whether we’re more optimistic or pessimistic and our emotional instincts.
But I’ll own this: I’m also really interested in this sort of research, because I never feel good enough.
Not just good, either. Happy enough. Rested enough. Productive enough. Enough enough.
Look what Olek did on Christmas day!
From CNN iReport:
The bull on Wall Street has a new coat this Christmas thanks to the artist Olek who crocheted the massive coat as a gift to those who have no coats this holiday season. She hopes the image of the bull with a new coat will be the symbol of a prosperous New Year for everyone.
The artist, Olek, also says the bull’s new coat is a tribute to the sculptor of the bull, Arturo di Modica, who in another guerilla act, placed the bull on Wall Street in Christmas of 1989 as a symbol of the “strength and power of the American people” following the 1987 Stock Market crash. She says she’d like to apologize to the sculptor for adding another layer to his work but hopes he understands - incidentally,the coat is removable and in no way harms the original sculpture.
Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?
The last thing I made was sugared cranberries. Does that count?
It involved sugar and cranberries and minimal effort, which is what attracted me to the project.
I love the DIY mission. It’s just hard to put into practice when you’re anti-cleaning-up-all-this-crap. Which I am.
When I visited the “Knitting is for Pussies” exhibit at Christopher Henry Gallery last month, I was immediately smitten with Olek’s use of color, whimsy, and of course, texture. I wrote a review of the crocheted chaos for Verbicide and went on my way.
Then last Friday I heard that Olek was looking for a model for a Paper Magazine photo shoot. My boyfriend (it feels weird typing that - boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend) alerted me and put in a good word. Then I found Olek on Facebook and volunteered. She said, “It’ll be fun. See you Monday.”
I knew I’d end up in a crocheted bodysuit, looking like the creepiest Dr. Seuss character in history. On Sunday night, I laid out my most flesh-colored underwear and started to ponder… How would I get crocheted into the suit? Would it be tight? Itchy? Would I feel really exposed? Am I officially artsy now?
Remember when I wrote about the artist Olek a while back?
Today I got to model one of her crocheted jumpsuits for the December issue of Paper Magazine!
So yeah, that green yarn-person is me, and I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow.
In the meantime, check out this piece I wrote about why I love Conan O’Brien, even though I’ve never seen his show (and don’t plan to).
Hey, I didn’t say it. The Polish artist/yarn bomber Olek did.
I recently visited her exhibition “Knitting is for Pussies” at the Christopher Henry Gallery in Soho. I don’t exaggerate one bit when I say, “Everything was all crocheted up in that piece.” Everything!
Check out my review and photos on Verbicide. Here’s an excerpt:
I also went to Conflux Festival over the weekend. It’s an art festival of participatory art and technology exhibits. If it sounds like I cribbed that description from the event’s website, it’s because I did.
Hmm… How can I explain it? It’s not just art you look at. It’s stuff you do. Where you do it - whether it’s in the park or on an East Village street corner or in an NYU building - matters. Something about psychogeography.
I went with an itinerary of what I wanted to see, but it wasn’t as simple as getting a map and plotting things out. Some exhibits traveled. Thus, I never got to enjoy tea and cookies while having an intimate conversation with a stranger. I didn’t walk someone else’s dog from the West Village to the East Village. I missed playing street games.
