forty five: pause - ahead:

Katya Grokhovsky, video still, senseless, 2008

So let me PAUSE, right here.

Saving......

I have decided not to dwell on the Best off 2010.

It has all been, THE Best.

I take the packaged year, all of it neatly wrapped up into the softest layers of the tulles of memories: still fresh and burning, the subtle, smoky colors of unseen, wished for romantic sunsets and anxious deadline-induced sleepless nights, covered in the new knowledge of unknown, yet confident, tomorrowness, I put it gently away into the pocket of my Experience . Right now, Yesterday. The blonde wigs, the dancing till dawn, the whiskeys on the rocks, the frustrations and joys, the failures and successes, the slow dancing in the lobby of Palmer House Hilton, the dresses, the American Flag, the Ukrainian dancing as a boy, the travels, physical and metaphorical, hours of crap TV to numb the over-active mind, the endless reading lists to last lifetimes, the heated debates, the arguments, the nervous smoking, the stress and yes, new hairs, devoid of color. grey. I kiss.

And so, as of NOW, I have 3 months left of GRAduate School and this blog. Forgive the sentimentality and tears, held back behind this screen, for the Tears, they will be streaming. Oh, come theeeeee, Come oh, May.

There will be, of course, amazingnessss in Future, for MISS Future is a Queen, always, ever shiny, sparkling and shimmering in the oh-so bright distance. I believe. For MAster, Master, I am the MAster, I can do.....

What awaits? As any Graduate Student worth her/his salt, I have no clue. MAster plan?

Yes, many in the stew. Yet. I rest . I pause. Processing the ingredients.........

Trusting my own gut instinct, throughout most of this time, I currently take pleasure in the fact that I am now, in the MFA club. What the hell does it mean? Stakes are raised and they are high and some of us are perched onto them. Money spent, knowledge earned, dark competitive bruises and post-critique scars aquired and healed. Graduate Family. For my life.

As I arrive in Chicago O'Hare Airport from LA, at midnight, one cold weekday, last week, I am greeted by a good looking: " what's up baby, welcome to Chi", I whisper " home..." and smile shyly back, answering I am excellent!!!!

Shall we make some ART?

Let me come out of it and as I stand , ambitiously creatively naked in front of you I proudly SAY this:

I love ART.

For what it's worth.

ok, melting my own icy heart with the melodies of listened- to- in- the- name- of- research of hundreds of slow songs , I ALSO say, in the words of those we know well,

LOVE> is ALL you Need

r.i.p 2010

number THIRTY FIVE: fatigue and truth, starbucks and bunnies

Katya Grokhovsky, 2010, Untitled, photo Andrew Green

Pink fluffy bunnies and long floppy ears and kangaroos. Around you, dancing to instructed directions to future love and prosperity for your dollar. art and dance and keep on moving your way through it all. I doubt there is anything else, backwards, step step and loose it. anxiety levels and stress hitting my face. Palmer House.

Whore?

Prostitution thoughts, red dress, will you slow dance? would you like to slow dance with me? will you, would you? Asking is not my forte, I ask. I smile softly and walk away after rejections. wives protecting husbands, their business men ...I haven't had enough yet, not enough drink in me for this..sir, it's just a slow dance..., my room is upstairs. I am a filmmaker from Brazil, this is a Meyer of my city dance with him, oh no, don't that's his wife. ok wife. Dance with me then? No? Women and women. dancing. Dancing. moving. why am I doing this? Doing it softly forgetting moving. Beautiful location strange audience ? what???? yes. what? yes. red or black? red. tight. no bra? yeah! little risque, hm. push them towards you. It is an old fashioned mating ritual. yes it is.auto erotic addiction let me share me with you , passed down from you to you, she is revolving around her own axis. never leaving the universe of her juices. flowing blood. ready for your bunny costume? pink?

Men/ women. Dance. with me. Lets do the can can baby, let me woo let me ask you. we are in the middle of a business meeting..ah yes, I see that. yes and your rooms are all upstairs. drained and fatigued, loose steps don't. Don't step on me. self esteem taking a bow: thank you for the dance. middle America and homophobia. why woman dance with woman how strange...no, you are not having my man. looking at you.I am not having anybody..it is just a slow dance..let me slow dance you to slow slow slow jazz slow

coffee and biscuits i just want to crawl into a fluffy ball and roll into a corner where drink is available. let me.

the story of bunny and two metals sticks:

Spotlight. Bunny pink fluffy costume on a floor in a heap. two metal sticks, curled and sharpened At the end. I made them.

Woman walks in. Gold heels, black dress.
Play the music: La Isla Bonita...

She dances.
Slowly puts on the bunny costume, keeps on dancing.

music stops.
She starts hissing: thiiiii...thiiiiiiiis thattttttt..thh ththhh thhhh
she is learning the sounds thhhhhh...
a story I never told you about is the story of the bunny.......
bunny hopped across the world
bunny loved the world but bunny had to relearn how to hop..hop hop..

bunny had to relearn how to talk as if bunny never talked before bunny had to learn how to walk as if bunny never walked before...bunny had to learn how to jump as if bunny never jumped before....but most importantly bunny had to learn th sound...because Bunny never made th sound before...
thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

hhhh

Dance with the bunny:

Bunny costume. pink fluffy cheap.

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!

SIX: hair/brush/lemon/forAlexanderMcQueen/13/bittersweet rest/memory loss/death by emotion/locking it in/burned/slightly touching

13 strokes for Alexander.
March 2010.
Performance for video.
@SAIC

Rejections: SAIC world less traveled grant.

My world shall be less traveled this summer.
Happy to remain in Chicago this July/August.

Possible trip to Australia.

Travel in USA
New York in May/June.
San Jose/San Francisco in June.

THREE: Airy Excitement

Photo: Miao Jiaxin,
Rythm33, April 8th, 2010
@Basespace, SAIC

Third entry in my first week. I am in a state of airy flowery excitement. Addicted to listening to Eurovision songs on Grooveshark.


Saturday, site visit to Benton House, Version festival Expo coming up next weekend. ABC collective.
http://www.anotherbloodycollective.blogspot.com

Meetings to be set up with the artists. Sculpt Social, Wednesday.

Re:this project:(Questions of penalties have been raised. Adding to contract: Penalty: for each entry not submitted on any given week, an extra entry will be added the following week. This applies to photo and video documentation).

Sunday. In bed, writing, black coffee, home baked cookies by Santina Amato. Internet. Deadlines. Organization. Distraction: youtube. Many many things to do> paralysed. Searching for new opportunities. will not apply. Good to know.

Chicago Art Resource, NYFA, Transartists. Possibilities?
Rejections: Robert Wilson's residency at Watermill, Long Island, NYC.

Currently reading:
1.When Marina Abramovic Dies,A Biography, by James Westcott, 2010
2.Essays on blurring of art and life, Allan Kaprow, ed by Jeff Kelley, 1993
3.Naked by the window, the fatal marriage of Carl Andre and Ana Mendieta, by Robert Katz, 1990
4.Writing as sculpture, 1978-1987, by Louwrien Wijers, 1996

Browsing reading:
1. The Lovers, exhibition catalogue by Marina Abramovic and Ulay, 1989
2. Out of now, the lifeworks of Tehching Hsieh, Adrien Heathfield, 2009
3. The Biogrpahy of Biogrpahies, Marina Abramovic, 2004
4. Have you seen the horizon lately, Yoko Ono, 1997
5. Marina Abramovic, House with the ocean view, 2004
6. Joseph Beuys, Coyote, Caroline Tisdall, 1976/2008
7. Fantastic politics, Art in time of Crisis,2007
8. Joseph Cornell's, theater of the mind, 2000
9. Tatlin, ed Larisa Alekseevna Zhadova, 1988
10. The bust guide to new girl order, ed Marcelle Karp, Debbie Stoller, 1999

Researching:
Essay: art history subject- time as event:
Chantal Akerman:
1. Bordering on fiction: Chantal Akerman's D'est, 1995
2. Nothing happens: Chantal Akerman's Hyper realist Everyday, Ivone Marguilis, 1996
3, Matter and memory, Bergson, 1970
4. Monuments and memory, made and unmade, Robert.S.Nelson and Margaret Olin, 2003
5. Merleau -Ponty, Phenomenology of perception, 2008
6. The way of love, Luce Irigaray, 2002
7. The unfinished system of non-knowledge, Georges Bataille, 2001

Pleasure reading:

1.Collected poems by Emily Dickinson
2.Andy Warhol: the philosophy of Andy Warhol , from a to b and back again

Attended Live Lectures this week:
by Ryan Trecartin
by Guillermo Gomez - Pena (lecture performance)

Watched:
Ryan Trecartin's videos online,
Snippets of Chantal Akerman's D'est online
DVD Movies:
Piano Teacher, Funny games and Hidden by Michael Haneke.

Overwhelmed by recent subway suicide bombings in Moscow. Relatives in Moscow, scared. Talk to parents.
No television.

New week tomorrow. Two weeks before Spring Critique. Preparation.
20 page art history essay. Performance in class tomorrow.23 min piece.
Documentation.Blond, wig, nightgown.

Continue Drawing practice.Drawing with: coffee, wine, urine, vodka, pomegranate juice, lemon juice, onion juice, garlic juice, olive oil.Body machinery, body mechanics, culture of trashy culture.

Small sculptures.Sculpting with: Stale bread, plaster, found small objects, found paper, glue, blankets.

ONE: 7 days into prophecy

Photo Santina Amato
Rythm33, April 8th, 2010
@Basespace, SAIC

Ok. I'm in my Jesus year and in a "Terminal Degree", marching towards second and final year of my MFA at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. This is a Year- long photo and writing Documentary Project to accompany my Thesis Studio Work. My Art and Life Practice. It is Time. Do or die!

Lets Go!
April 8, 1977, at 3 am-6am , Odessa, Ukraine - a birth.
April 8, 2010, at 7pm-8pm, Chicago, USA - re-birth.

Rythm 33. Re-enactment by Katya Grokhovsky of Rythm 0 by Marina Abramovic:

Guarding the Eternal Fire of the Victims. Standing still for hours, holding a heavy tired Kalashnikov in my 13 year old weak arms. White shirt, blue skirt , white stalkings, red pioneer satin tie around my neck. Arms slightly shaking, straight back, legs shoulders apart. Trembling. The Fire eternally sculpted. The children of Soviet Union. Born and escaped. As red wine pours all over my stiff back, I relax. Standing still in a long line, always small, always at the end of the line, by height, always insignificant, I shivered in my newly acquired fake Adidas suit. From Italy? From Turkey, bought on the Second Kilometer black market outside of Odessa. We hitchhiked there every Sunday. Second- hand Western Blue jeans. Oh, America. Fake Chanel singlets, bright neon leggings. Coffee ice cream softly melting, running down my hot, sticky cheek in sweet-smelling strips of happiness . Standing still and hardly breathing at 6 am in a summer pioneer camp, standing still, listening vaguely to That Hymn. Learning the Russian Traditional songs. All together now. Whispering words. Faking enthusiasm. Escaping, running. Running. Standing still, head down, scolded in front of a class. I did not do it! I did not do it! Blamed. Guilty. Standing still. Shivering in my silence. Sweet , pungent onion , cake, string, egg in my mouth. Knife in my face. He slashed our leather padded door. In front of me. I walked through it. These slashes remained until we left our apartment in 1992. A knife near my cheeks. I cannot handle it. I handle it. Fear of knives, fear of touching, fear of public. Standing still, they made me speak in front of a whole school. I almost peed on stage. The everyday smell of urine in the lifts.They paint my back with red acrylic. It feels sexually pleasant and relaxing, as if my skin is being licked. That first painting. Shaking. Holding. Keep it.