THIRTEEN: back to NYC: //Marina//good fortune, if firm and correct//mango cheesecake// it used to be....

nyc spring, 2010, photo Katya Grokhovsky

Marina. Skin melting, mango cheesecake, lucid: Complete tourist set of Middle-aged Germans, does she not pee all day long? Head in her hands, heavy and awake, white lights, Kate Gilmore's hills breaking through the male white cube, Boltanski, Balthazar cafe, DUMBO, Brooklyn, Chelsea boys, MOMA, Guggenheim, The Met, the bridge is beautiful, oh God it's a heavy rain, the squeezed freshly smell of the just-watered Earth -filled-room, the broken kilometer, quinoa salad, NY pizza,

Canal street and West Broadway, 2010, photo Katya Grokhovsky

Canal street, trucks and bags, you want handbag Miss miss miss, you need a handbag, the last bar in the world, German cigarette, classy and elegant to a particular smoker's taste, this is no longer new york, the high line, this isn't what it used to be, the 80's, do you know her she's also from Ohio, she lives two doors down from you, you have also lived here for 30 years? no?get off my roof it will leek, do roofs leek in Australia? PhD in philosophy and money, artist night, 5 dollar burgers, cherry wheat beer, where is new york, do you have spoons? false arrogance, the swimming pool space is closed, sex and the city 2 and a half stars, marina does not pee she holds it in for 9 hrs, emotional voyage to the dead, smoking in the bar circa tobacco, buckwheat crepes, opera cake, snow cone:

full satisfied attention span heavy 24hrs, whitney bienalle, the established feeling of glass walls how high how low what will I do for my art for art for my art? art: don't ask don't fear don't believe, long island iced tea, corona beer, cold sake, TV, two cats, he likes to be hugged all the time, who do you think I look like? what a woman, it used to be new york:

photo Katya Grokhovsky, 2010

melting soft and the hat, who do you think you are, actually the lady the lady let's see, turtles in Atlantic ocean, new york is not the same, the mall that is Manhattan, the city of you, overly consumed good fortune, mussels in garlic celery broth, poached eggs with salmon and melted cheese, baked brie with caramelized pear, shrimp, Coney island to be destroyed..
mixed up in the tender sticky soup of human,

Marina.

TWELVE: Bed//Kabakov//The layers//Ciao for now my Chicago

The Raft, Travel, 2009@SAIC studio
photo Katya Grokhovsky

From complete after-school-end-of-year-exhaustion and utter indulgent messy rest at the start of the week and 24hr life in bed to incredible times with friends and most inspirational lectures and speeches. I am full of gratitude. I shed some thank-you-tears and become sentimental and emotionally attached. I am attached to this place. At peace, but not at rest. Insatiable Traveling bugs are crawling all over me. My persistent gypsy spirit once awakened, slowly grows into a monster and I am ready to jump around the world.

However, before I temporarily leave the Chicago I fell in love with, I am going to attempt to symbolically interview myself aggressively, or perhaps, not, one more time and try to peel the layers of Katya Grokhovsky, as much as she, perhaps, will allow me to, or not.

K.G Katya?
K.G Yes?
K.G You are a mystery. An enigma. What are you hiding?
K.G Nothing much actually, I think I am a fictional enigma, or I'd like to think I am, or would like to be, or would like to create an illusion of. I am not sure at all about this, but it has been said to me on numerous occasions that I should open up more and reveal. I don't like to reveal. I like to conceal first.And then maybe, perhaps, very slowly, if it is the right place, time, people, person, etc.
K.G Sounds complicated . Don't you think?
K.G No, not really. I have a complex multi layered identity, some of which is a total construct.
K.G What do you mean by construct, who constructed it? How can that occur?
K.G It's very simple. I am a numerous immigrant. Well no, once an immigrant, always an immigrant. Emilia Kabakov said: once you migrate, you belong nowhere, to no place. Once you loose those roots, no roots can be re-grown. I agree with that. I have no roots. I like that. It makes, me, free? Well, freedom is very relative, but it does to some extent, exist. Australia is my adopted home, a surrogate, but I somehow feel more of an outsider there, than I do in America. I like America and so far, I think, I hope I truly wish, America likes me.
K.G Where is your home then?
K.G Right now Chicago. Melbourne has been home for a long time prior. My parents and long standing dear Friends are there. My histories are located three. Odessa, where I was born, is no longer home. Yet, once there, it is home completely. Home is an interesting notion I am not sure I truly understand. I have tried and tried to work with this question of home for a long time in my work and it somehow eventually manages to always fail and elude me. I think that is exactly what happens once you are an immigrant. You are always searching for something you lost, or know you want or need, but can never really find again. This is why I relate a lot to the work of Illya Kabakov. The Soviet mystery. The loss, the tragedy, the history, the place that is no longer, which is of course, a universal loss of home and childhood. I realized to my astonishment, that Kabakov, being the age of my parents, is the one who experienced what my parents experienced. They are the ones who went through true tragedy of immigration in the middle of their lives. I did not. I was 15 years old. Yes, I remember everything, but I did not have my whole life established somewhere else, prior to leaving. I finally understood why I cannot truly work with these notions, the Soviet subject. I have to work with it through my parents.
K.G I hoped you'd talk more about your actual personal experience of immigration to Australia.
K.G It is a long painful story. I never wanted to go there. I never wanted to live there. I was a minor, I had no say.We just left. It was a devastating experience. It was like a death, whilst being alive. I'm not explaining it all that well or articulating it perfectly, but it felt incredibly surreal. For the first 3 years there, I kept writing a lot of my observations down, thinking I will be going back, telling and showing my then girlfriends, what I saw and experienced. Many letters I wrote to them kept returning to me. my world as I knew it was dead to me. At that tender age, I had to re-emerge, re-appear as another. A construct somewhat. However, I of course, received great education in Australia, two magnificent bachelor degrees and do love the city of Melbourne, which holds a special place in my consciousness. But I always wanted More.
K.G More?
K.G More.


to be continued...........

I am sure the layers have not been peeled.....

Lectures attended:

Illya and Emilia Kabakov @MCA
Kerry James Marshall @MCA
SAIC Commencement Graduation ceremony
Architecture foundation boat cruise
Public light and space opening

Movie: Women without men by
Shirin Neshat


Plans, trains, buses await.
To NYC.

ELEVEN: School's out//Espresso and tears// Narcissism///Rejection//Success and parents

School - out. First year of MFA @SAIC is officially done.
Sunday 4pm, emotional and physical wreckage detected, large cup of Illy Espresso and unexpected exhausted sudden tears. What? Parties attended, classes and papers finished, advisers advised with, alcohol consumed, mental capacity overstretched. No current desires or requests. Extraordinary weightless state of being, yes, unbearable. Skype daily with parents. Journeys, support, Success and Rejections:

Rejections:
1.Daisy Soros Prize,
2.Various TAships in various Departments @SAIC

Success:
1. SAIC 2nd year graduate international scholarship, 20% off tuition
2. TAships in Summer and Fall in Photo Department and First Year program @SAIC
Parents in Chicago last summer
August 2009, photo Katya Grokhovsky

Summer plan:

23rd May -12th June - New York City - one week holiday and 2 week SAIC study trip
12th June- 18th June - San Jose/San Francisco- holiday/visit to friends
18th June - 8th July - Melbourne, Australia - visit parents, family and friends
8th July - back to Chicago
12th July - 20th August - TAship @SAIC

Coming up Here:
1. Bi-Weekly Interviews with People in the Arts I know, or I think I know and do not know at all.
2. Off-links to new projects I will be researching and documenting.

Interview 1:
Katya Grokhovsky - Katya Grokhovsky

K.G - What are you going to do in summer before your final year of MFA @SAIC?
K.G - As outlined above: I will travel to those destinations in USA and Australia, I will research, attend gallery shows, museums and studios, do the NYC study trip, have fun, work as a Teaching Assistant at SAIC and work in my studio on my thesis projects. Try to read as much as I can and go to things, like beach, music festivals, etc and of course, plan for future.

K.G - What classes are you taking next Fall semester? Why?
K.G - Metal and Writing for performance and advising.Metal, because I have always wanted to work with metal and writing, because writing is a big part of my practice, especially concerning performance, and I'd like to expand my knowledge in this area, keeping it for life.

K.G - What are you going to do after you graduate?
K.G - Hmm, practice ...my art? Teach? Travel? Reach the stars? I guess, the usual Art -wanted-things.

K.G - What are you going to do for your thesis MFA graduate show?
K.G - An F...ng Amazing something?...who knows.

K.G - What is to be done now?
K.G - Research, Think , process, digest and shop for summer. Pack my suitcase. It is time to do travel, I am ready.

K.G - Is this blog an artwork or a Blog?
K.G - Both.Is it important what it actually is? I don't think so, I don't like definitions as such.

K.G - Why did you move all the way from Australia to America to do your MFA?
K.G- Because Both countries start with A and end with A?? I wanted a change and a challenge. A big change, of a lifetime. I beleive I have already achieved it. Why? I am HAPPY and a better ARTIST. That's life changing.

K.G - Are you happy with your decision to come here and why?
K.G - I am over the moon . Yes, I actually am. It was very difficult at first to adapt to the fast busy pace and intensity and extreme lack of any time to do anything whatsoever, but, I am sure I made the right decision. There has always been a great pull of destiny, yes, destiny, to this place for me, somehow I knew I had to be here. I strongly believe in all that.

K.G - What are you trying to achieve with this blog/art/wrting thing?
K.G -Commitment to whatever it is I am doing and a time document of an incredibly rich research period, which I am sure will provide material for me to work with for the rest of my life.

K.G- Is it all about you, always?
K.G - No, it might seem so, but I believe "the more particular I get, the more universal it becomes". My art. Chantal Akerman said that. I also don't think it is that autobiographical, it is actually a record of a common experience, seen through my eyes.

K.G - What do you think about love, honestly?
K.G - That's a very personal question and it doesn't belong here, but I would be interested in answering this question in my work. It'll be a project.

K.G - Is everything now an art project?
K.G - Yes and No. Not everything, but almost everything. Life imitates art?

K.G- That is so cliche. Don't you think that's unreasonably sad and kind of pathetic, what about life itself?
K.G - I like cliches a lot. I fear them and hence, go towards them, why not be a full cliche? Art is my bridge to life. Simple. And life is my bridge to Art.

Three Main Projects which came out of experimentation this year and which will be Researched and Commited to as of Now:

1. Epidemic of Narcissism - Ascetic Achieving to live/The Goal - Conceptual Running and Sport as Art -The body and machines as tools for Success - NYC - Overachievement -I love Me - The Only Child

2. Parents -Life Support Systems -Mother-Father-Art

3. Mess: as sculpture//as performance//as photography//as drawing//as painting//as video//as costume


*MFA - is about raising the questions during and having to search for answers for the rest of your life afterwards.

*There shall be no personal record here of feelings about Spring blossoming of tulips and lilacs, or the gorgeous street I live on or my pretty apartment, or some newly developed feelings for so and so, or failed love affairs.

TEN: America America///shopping and blood/silk skeletons///Jeanne Dielman

That blonde or NadjaVeraLyuboffStern,
December 2009, @SAIC
Photo Katya Grokhovsky

Shooting in the vicinity of the school in a Department Store on Friday Morning. Murder/suicide.Boyfriend shoots girlfriend, then himself. Shopping and blood. Chicago, I love you?

Art History. Analysis of a film by Chantal Akerman: Jeanne Dielman, 1975. Extract. Essay:

"Alienation, estrangement, the mundane meaninglessness, profound boredom, ritualization of being, self-imposed isolation, living paralysis, the inevitable hypnosis, the stupor of existence, the extreme tedium of duration, the space of life’s physical and mental entrapment, the inevitability of disaster, the passage of time noticed, the blanket of hidden anxiety and fear , the woman’s absence....Nothing prepared me for the onslaught of Jeanne Dielman. I read nothing prior to watching it and merely overheard snippets of re-told accounts of other people’s experiences of the work. I came in cold - I left hypnotized, shaken, mortified and yes, enlightened to no end. Why? Akerman did not entertain me, or take me away from my life into another. She took me, the innocent viewer, directly and painfully right by the skin of my neck, into my own life, my own tedium of time of my physical being, my own fear of death and, most importantly, my own fear of being buried, metaphorically speaking, alive, as a woman , as a human being. The dread of inevitable void, no matter how hidden or masked by absolutely every activity we undertake, is a constant and a given in the equation of our duration. Every great masterpiece in the time of the earth, examines or hints at the black hole, the end of the breathing, the “diamond skull”. However, Akerman’s ability to arrest your own time and enter the durational reality of the time of the “living zombie” on the screen, created a space within me, in which my bodily experience of the film transferred itself magically into the manifested terror by the death of my OWN space within the time of the life I am given. Big words. Big thoughts. Big Film."

The stream of emotional consciousness in my earlier writing (Holland, 2008), adopted:"Woman on the verge, in white silk".

"Silk skeletons. Medically unexplained. What to do. She wonders around her empty, new lodgings. She films her surroundings and herself…crying……….. dancing…pretending to be asleep. Trying to fit into the space and circling the apartment: searching for details to pay attention to…what is she doing here why is she here, who is she…Looking out the window…she zooms in and tries to focus onto a street sign outside her building. It is in Dutch. It means little to her….shes not here for long….A physical manifestation of a tower of emotional weaknesses….towers of rejections….of refusals …as a reminder of fragility of existence nothing is certain. ..what about feelings? Hurt by men she hides. ......... Why do we need the touch the attention to make us think we are alive we are wanted we exist in this wide labyrinth of pain. World is painful. Forgotten phone calls…..insecurities…rejected loves and rejected lovers...she is on edge on edge of pain sharp fragility strong feelings for each person she meets, she imagines scenarios, she flaps her wings, she is not who she thinks she is... she suffers each one.The freedom, the boredom of existence, who said boredom drives humanity to progress? I am moving I am here I am breathing ……...are you aware of that? My heart beats I can feel it hear it…...nothingness.
Water drips……..sound of streets….the empty room filmed….

What is to be done?

When you have no restrictions and no responsibilities, are you really free or are you always forever bound to your one true non-free being-yourself? Your memories.
She stares she cooks washes shops walks draws fucks.

She.

It is about her.

All about her. The Edge of her.

Nothing can stop her…

Nothing can touch her now, no one can hurt her….

Emptiness of being and existing she wants her ears to hurt from music in her headphones..hurt her hurt me make me sweat make me run run hard run away from you let me breath shut my eyes shut my mouth make me bleed.Have you ever known physical pain of being alone? Show me. The empty world of non emotional states of existing in a vortex of unbearable love. How to live after and before this love? How do you survive feeling beauty and wonder in every particle of dust to the upside down shadows of nocturnal nightmares and unnecessary dejavus in foreign countries? How do you run and keep running from those memories ? How do you stop fragility and weakness, brittle- snap snap a flaw in character, easy to break damage or harm, delicate, not strong, secure unlikely to sustain any severe strain or stresses in a weak or useless bodily state…

Open to emotional wounds or Likely to fall collapse or sway subject to spontaneous change .. brief existence……apt to change.. unsteady unsure of intent.Having a brief half life.

All of these men:The hurt the pain the constant fear of rejection, obsessions ingrained insecurity and interdependence on approval tell me I'm beautiful tell me I'm worthy of your time tell me who I am rescue me from my misery tell me I'm your love, don’t touch me, don’t leave me don’t hurt me…..…fictional or real…tried to recapture each one .. where am I going wrong?"


For Piano and Joseph Beuys,
4 hr performance,
February, 2010
@Uncommon territories,
Heaven Gallery

NINE: the bull and the bullfighter//monasteries/nuns///self-tracking self-portraiture/post-critique critique delirium/

Bloodbed
@What it Is
February 2010
photo: Katya Grokhovsky


Asceticism:
"From greek askesis or training/exercises! (yes)
abstinence from worldly pleasures, salvation and liberation involve a process of mind-body transformation effected by exercising restraint with respect to actions of body, speech and mind. Those who practice ascetic lifestyles do not consider their practices virtuous in themselves but pursue such a lifestyle in order to encourage, or "prepare the ground for", mind-body transformation. Worldly asceticism is specifically targeted against worldly pleasures that distract people from their calling, and may accept worldly pleasures that are not distracting".
(wikipedia).

The lowdown:

Ascetic. When it comes down to it: I, as an artist am the bull and/or the bullfighter? The nun or the monastery? Pagan and/or cloistered? Ascetic and messy. Excessive and ordered. Accumulation. Things...Self discipline of a musician. Photography and alternative. Video and performance. Merging and embodiment. Self tracking. Text into reality. Reality into text. A way with words. Collaboration with OTHERS? I once wrote a play. Directing.Training for an event. Training for nothing. Running nowhere.

Digital self-portrait through obsessive self-tracking. Art -idea-Thought tracking.

An ability to create something very powerful. How about I do nothing for a year. Nada. ?? How about I write nothing. By filling my every hour with art related everything, I become an art nun, serving the Art God. Thank you ART.I shall serve you well. Abstinence from everything but ART. But if anything you do is ART, what will I be abstaining from? Sleep? Food? Sex? That ain't art miss. But, I am an artist, everything I do is art...?right?

No.Yes.

What am I trying to tell my audience through my "ascetically" disciplined art?
Audience! I do not know.
I do know that a 100000 hours and something, brings results. What kind of results ? Positive? Negative? If not, what is enough?
When is enough enough enough enough enough.
Professional artist. Growing growing.
Up late at night, I am at attention.

A nun?? Absurd or Truth.
Obsessively listening to one song for hours. Learning it and trying not to remember. Do not mention the word soul.

Fashion show. Memories. Lights, music, excitement..and immediate boredom, not a good kind of boredom, a tedious terrifying boredom from fashion. It settles in half-way through. I need devices. I know it well, all too well. Front row, little writing pad in hand, looking important. Dressed up in black. Noting down. Power, pretending, this is a performance. I am interested in the dynamics of stereotyping and immediacy of fitting the stereotype. It is invigorating. I am catching myself performing a role of Someone Very Very Visibly Important and Powerful. It fits well and makes me giggle inside. Damn it.

Planning Summer.
NYC, San Fran, Melbourne?
Summer TA in Painting/drawing/photography.

Rejections: Advanced Visual Art Summer Residency in Como, Italy.

Attended:

Lectures:
James Elkins/Michael Newman @SAIC
Performance graduate lectures

SAIC Fashion Show @Modern Wing
Alphabetization, Opening of Art Show
Other critiques.

Mentally full.
Artistically inclined to start producing?

Structures and sculptures in studio to be constructed for photography.Summer projects to be designed.

Parents in my work. Working with parents. Long Distance?

Compiling a List of Questions to Myself:

Question: What are you doing?
Answer: Writing this entry for the blog.

Smart. This will become a torture. This might become entertainment.
This will be b.o.o.ring. Playing with language and text and font will not help you.Writing about writing, art about art, performance about performance, video about video, painting about painting, etcetctctetetetetetete.

Lists are good.
List no.1:
Things TO do in Summer, which I think I will do, but probably won't.
List no.2:
Things I love.
List no.3:
Unrealistic ideas.
List no.4:
Things I do which make others, I'm sure, angry and annoyed.
List no.5:
Things I love and hate at the same time.
List no.6:
Things I make lists about.
Smart.

1001 Questions to my parents:
Question 1:How old were you when you met each other? Both of you.
Question 2: Where did you meet, city, place, location of place?
Question 3: Did you think it was destiny, when you met, if yes, why yes if not, why not?

EIGHT: anticipation/MFA/unmaking/archeology of making

Archeology of a dream/
Site of resistance,
December 2009/2010
@ParentsHouse,
Melbourne, Australia

photos Katya Grokhovsky

A quick 10 day Christmas trip to Melbourne Australia where my parents reside. I pulled out all the work I ever made which their house holds. All the sketches/books/fashion/costumes/journals/portfolios/video works/sculptures/paintings/drawings.

Displayed in a scattered manner all about their house, including garage, backyard and front yard. Over production excess of making ? What to do ? WHO wants it? What is precious? What is disposable?

20 years of creation of things?
Or eBay.

1001 ideas.
1001 questions for my parents.
1001 things I know.
1001 recipes my mother and grandmother know, which I would like to learn and be able to cook....Monthly dinner parties, constructed from these recipes.

3 yearlong "THINGS I SHOULD DO" before I die project
(based on "1001 something before you die" books):

1001 books I need to be reading.
1001 movies I need to be watching.
1001 places I should be seeing.
1001 songs I should be listening to.
1001 paintings I should be seeing.
1001 foods I should be trying.
1001 sculptures I should be seeing.


Artist Book Idea: I'd like to create: 1001 things I made which you should know about before you die.

Categories, from the Pillow Book, by Sei Shonagon, Japan, answered when drunk:

1. Things I despise:Art fairs
2. Things that make my heart beat fast: Great coffee
3. Rare things: Gratitude
4. Things that create the appearance of deep emotion: tears
5. Alarming-looking things: bleached blond hair
6. Things that look fresh and pure: tulips
7. Things with terrifying names: cats
8. Repulsive things: live blood
9. Things that look lovely but are horrible inside: humans
10. Things that are near yet far: lovers
11. Dispiriting things: unfulfilled promises
12. Things that are far, yet near: parents
13. Good subjects for paintings: performance
14. Bad subjects for painting: dogs
15. Embarrassing things: not knowing
16. Endearingly lovely things: pillows
17. Things that fall: hair
18. Things that keep passing by: loves

work 005: Collectress project: document things I collect, in books/online/photos.

work 006: artist as athlete.Join gym/personal trainer. Train for a year. hardcore. document training. document nutrition. train for performance. Train for long haul. Train for MFA. Train as for Olympics.

MFA Thesis show opening at Sullivan Galleries at SAIC on Friday.
Saturday: studio and Ballet LOL cats
Sunday: Art Chicago/Next art fairs and studio

Butterflies flattering about white wine in stomach, somehow delirious, somehow anxious, somehow anticipating next year, somehow sensing excitement of an end and a beginning. Inner ability to project future stress is extraordinarily pronounced. Flying in polka dots about the galleries, paying slight attention to the art, intrigued. Who's next? Next next next next next next next next next and again next next next next next next next next next................................

Family of faces.

Tears steaming. Fragile encounter with weaker self. A need to digest, reflect, sit , think, ponder. Nervous ticking of constant flow of ideas. VISUAL ART.

Next is a big word. It all feels fleetingly frightening and exposed. I am in conscious denial of a coming lifting of a "rock" of a year.

Dissolved ability to talk about anything other than art and myself? Analytical critique of sudden ants in my kitchen. Offers of Summer TA jobs at school. What do I do? Awaiting results of various residency applications. The process never ends. Hunger at 1pm, sleepless night.

Saturday, school is necessary. Missing my school studio when I'm not there. Missing my apartment when I'm not there. Enjoying the luxury of my new long- searched- for and loved Queen of the bedroom- iron bed. Bed as studio/writing office.

The need to eat brunch. Eggs.Coffee. Dark Chocolate. The feeling of running towards impossibility of achievement. Always striving, always reaching, never touching, never reaching. Russian mantra to be the best burned into my being. Papa, the best at what, precisely? Meanings unclear. Revolving around my axis, pushing upwards. Equation. I am absolutely terrible at math. (Numbers dyslexia has officially become much more pronounced).

Coming week. Monday: critique. Tuesday: on a critique panel as a grad student panelist. Wednesday -TA day in FYP, 20 page art history essay due. Thursday? Something I'm forgetting, I am absolutely sure. Friday: Fashion SAIC Show in Modern Wing and performance graduate lectures. Interviews for ECP TA positions.

Two weeks left of the first year of my MFA. I want it to last another 5 years.

I want to take every class I can. Advise with all the advisers I want. Read all the books in the School Library. Watch all the videos in the Videodata bank at SAIC. Consume knowledge to the point of absolute binge. As a child I used to disappear into books for days and nights. I consumed encyclopedias of dog breeds, plants, anatomy, medical dictionaries , Russian literature, poetry, Alexander Dumas books, George Sand, Bulgakov, Pushkin, Dostoevsky, Nabokov, Shakespeare translated by Pasternak, Charlotte Bronte, and many many more....

Big Fat Chance Lifelong Wish list: A library the size of a football field containing every book I ever wanted to read and should have read.

Ready to start work on one long-term project.
Train for IT??
Working with the Notion Of Success as Subject. Reality TV shows.
Bravo TV??? That One Big Chance of a lifetime??? why?

Assume position One.
Art as Sport.

Go!