I have always found dead stuffed cats to be creepy.  They’re so stiff and fake looking that at times it is hard to tell that they are not toys/decorations and had at one point been alive.  I mean seriously, do you want your dead friend perched at the end of your couch? It’s so unnatural.

So for those crazy taxidermists, how do you make it more acceptable, how do you sleep knowing that not that far away, the body of say a dead deer, is staring at you?   Answer: take the animal and distort it even more so it becomes something else entirely.  It becomes, well, a piece of art.

Ron Pippin is an artist.  He’s created everything from detailed ships to overflowing adventure journals.  He has also given an antelope guns.

I would have no qualms with having this critter in my house.  He’s interesting to look at and all that metal makes me wonder if there will ever be a time when it’s open season on humans.  But that thought is so distant, so improbable, I can deal with that much easier than a stuffed cat at the foot of my grandma’s bed.

To check our more of his work, click here.

Your blogger,

Jenny

I collect quotes like one collects stamps or stones. I do it in a compulsive manner, and they’re everyone: rewritten in margins, four notebooks, in my phone as texts to myself. I feel that as if I were to write down every inspirational quote that I find in my paper-strewn path, that they might lend me some of their own prowess. And perhaps, as a result of dutifully compiling quotes, I could feel what it might be like to write something so profound, so powerful in a single paragraph, a single phrase (or less) myself – to feel the words as they fall from the fingertips and imagine what that must feel like. Like little vignettes in themselves, these quotes are the cruxes, the essence of contexts vast and mysterious, and before the authors of these quotes utter them into existence, one would not be able to believe they could be articulated. They are observations of the truth captured in a beautifully concise, linguistic format. And they are readily available to be admired by you and I. Personally, I believe that writing tiny kernels of wisdom requires a sort of genius – a genius to distill the convoluted down to a manageable essence while not compromising the initial intricacies, the serpentine coils and twists of life… they say so much without being overstated and gaudy.

Here are some of my favorite quotes that I’ve written down in dire haste within a wide array of note pages and such. I hope that they instill in you some feeling of grandeur as they have done for me.

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can’t start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It’s like quicksand … hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.
— Sylvia Plath

Emerson, for instance, left his sick wife, Lidian, and their young children in Thoreau’s care to go to Europe in 1847, writing coldly to Lidian, ‘I foresee plainly that the trick of solitariness never can leave me.’
— from the preface to The Journal of Henry David Thoreau 1837-1861

A living entity that regarded its means of survival as evil, would not survive. A plant that struggled to mangle its roots, a bird that fought to break its wings would not remain for long in the existence they affronted. But the history of man has been a struggle to deny and to destroy his mind.
— John Galt

Actual happiness looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamor of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.
— Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

Chaos was the law of nature; order was the dream of man.
— Henry Brooks Adams

You’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them — if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.
— The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger

Algebra is applied to the clouds; the radiation of the star profits the rose; no thinker would venture to affirm that the perfume of the hawthorn is useless to the constellations. Who, then, can calculate the course of a molecule? How do we know that the creation of worlds is not determined by the fall of grains of sand? Who knows the reciprocal ebb and flow of the infinitely great and the infinitely little, the reverberations of causes in the precipices of being, and the avalanches of creation?
— Les Miserables, Victor Hugo

What are some of your favorite quotes?

Sue majors in Neuroscience & English and tends to lurk in bookstores.

“Sharing is Caring!”

“Spread the News!”

“Extra, Extra, Read All About it!”

A theme that I often find myself circling is spreading the word.  Sharing thoughts and ideas and then reading all about them.  Word of mouth travels faster than anything it seems.  Its also usually occurs during casual conversations at events, parties, and dates.

Recently one of my friends has been sending me some amazing music that I have come to love.  I am a person who loves music, but has always been a little technologically challenged and thus never explored.  Now, I feel like the sacred Japanese Torri gates have allowed me to enter into a pure, relaxing, and unknown world.  Now, I actually know the name of the bands, their songs, and words!  Eureka!  Who knew Pandora’s box wasn’t so foreign as I thought?!

So, this artistic transformation into the music world inspired me to introduce 10 artists who work in a variety of mediums to you, in hopes that it will enlighten and rebirth your soul.  I chose to provide you with an amalgamation and not my top 10, because I’m flexible and benevolent.

Salvidor Dali

Jean-Michel Basquiat

Bankay

Keith Haring

Judy Chicago

Takashi Murakami

Friedensreich Hundertwasser

Frida Khalo

Andy Goldsworthy

Christo and Jeanne-Claude

Hope you enjoy!

Sara Majors in Art History and Enjoys long Walks.

Recently, one of my roommate’s family moved out of state. Not wanting to simply cancel their subscription to the Free Press, the delivery address got changed to our apartment here in Ann Arbor.

Personally, I’m not a big news reader.  I’ll pick up the Daily from time to time and I’m actually pretty good about reading though my RSS feed everyday.  Then again, I only have subscriptions to Ad Age and io9 (a sci-fi/comic junkie blog).  It’s a pretty good deal, I get the latest information on Toyota’s image, the most recent LOST theories, and updates on Earth’s coming up close call with an asteroid. Thus, I usually just toss out the paper with out looking at it.

There are two things I save, and they both arrive in the Sunday paper. 1) Coupons, because what college student doesn’t like to save money? and 2) Comics.

Every Sunday I now have three pages of color, filled with humor, sweet moments, and serious plots.  I usually not only send myself into giggles, but my roomie too because she finds it hilarious that I laugh out loud.  But how can I not? Comics are funny and remind me of when we used to get the paper when I was a child, a time when everyone one laughed out loud at the simplest of things.

I think that’s the beauty of comics; they speak to all ages.  You don’t have to be old or up to date on the political scene to understand most of the punch lines.  And you have to admire the cartoonists, they manage to fit an entire story into one to six panels, and very often only write a single line.  That takes a lot of talent, to be able to pack so much meaning into such little space.  On top of that, they are able to churn out a comic on at least a weekly basis.  I’m sure they have some wonderful ideas on how to overcome writer’s block.

As it is, I feel like the comic as an art form that is majorly overlooked. Those in the newspaper are barely read nowadays as subscription numbers drop, those for sale in Borders are viewed to be solely in the ‘geek’ category, and the couple of web comics that are on-line are typically discovered by those with a small, tight social circle that rarely extends past their own door.  Comics are a whole art scene to themselves, specializing in not only using the minimum amount of material to the greatest effects, but also in keeping readers interested and coming back for more.

Just think, if cartoonists led the world it would be a lot more efficient.

Your non-news-reading blogger,

Jenny

This ‘Winter’ Break, often incorrectly uttered Spring Break by many Michiganders, I decided to go home.  I wanted a break.  A break from the hustle and bustle of college life, from my life in Ann Arbor.  I wanted to go somewhere comfortable, new, refreshing.  College is great, but it sure is difficult.  Our generation seemed to be programmed to multi-task from the womb.  With cell phones and computers we are always connected, always seen.  I often idealize the time when dorm rooms had one telephone, one mode of communication, of connection from you to the outside world.  I imagine girls sitting by the phones for hours waiting for Mr. Right to call, or boys with their sweaty palms jumping at the sound of each methodical ring waiting for the sonorous voice of their beauty on the other end.

Ah, yes, the simple life, the easy life.

As I was discussing my life with my Father this past week, he commented how draining it must be to be so involved in x, y, and z and still expect to have a riveting social life.  I dramatized my congruency with his opinion, feeling the pressure release as I found I was not alone.  Society, parents, and even ourselves put pressure on us to have the resume with the most depth showing how active we are and what we are capable of.  We must prove ourselves to the world.

Life is all about balance, I suppose.  I dare to believe that in all that we do, we still find the time to relax, to enjoy the world around us.  To smile at those who pass us, or to even be daring and strike up a conversation with them instead of walking to the beat of our own drum blaring in our ears by our ipods.  To take in the chill of the winter breeze as it stings our nose or to stop, close your eyes, and imagine the sun rose that morning to be your spot lot, to follow you and to warm you.  Allow yourself to feel special.

Remember that we are exquisite beings who are capable of completing many tasks at any given moment, but that doesn’t mean that a moment spent on one task is wasted.  No, let it be those moments where you are so invested, so absorbed in one thing where you can find freedom, relaxation and peace.

Continue to be involved, because as much as these activities wear on us, they also shape us and provide pride for who we are.  Just remember that it does not take an official school break to actually allow you to take a break.  Partake in some unpretentious, brainless act a day to release the pressure.  Do something that feels like home to you.  Take Dorthoy’s word for it, “There’s no place like home.”

Enjoy the rest of your ‘break’! ; )

Sara majors in Art History and enjoys long walks.

We see the beauty in happy things– but there is beauty in sadness, too.  A photo essay by Yves Marchand and Romaine Meffre captures the haunting beauty in Detroit’s demise, as featured in this Time article.

This is Detroit Central Station.  I’ve often stared at it as I passed by it in train rides and car trips, wanting to photograph it.  There was something so inexplicably attractive about this building– the essence of a grandeur that no longer exists, the ever-standing reminder of a lost era.

We see the beautiful in happiness, which is why we tend to ignore the beauty that exists in sadness, as well.  An aching, haunting, mesmerizing kind of beauty that captures our hearts and makes them long– for what, we don’t know.  But the more we seek the sunny side of things, the more we eschew the darker aspects of life.  The more we shun sadness, the less we notice of it.  We care not for crumbling buildings and broken windows– we want high towering buildings of shiny stainless steel and bold reflective windows; we do not gaze upon rusting metals of old desk chairs and falling fluorescent lights– we always cry out for more comfortable cushioned chairs, gleaming white boards stretching across walls; we would not attend a tour of a Spanish Gothic theater, caving in on itself, built at the height of the twenties– we would rather watch football games from the newly built skyboxes of plastic and metal, placing ourselves well above the rest of the world.

We do not care for sadness.  We do not care for eras lost.  We do not care for the impoverished, the helpless, the struggling.  We turn our heads from obviously crumbling, unsustainable infrastructures, children without proper education, cities without safety and stability.  And as we do this– as we try so hard to ignore all that is wrong with the world– all that we see to be ugly, all that we think can never be beautiful– we ignore those who desperately need attention and help.  We do not care for them.  Because we would prefer to view the beautiful things in life.

But here it is: there is beauty in sadness.  So look deeply, think carefully, and act– because if this is what Detroit is like in its “ugliness”, then imagine how it once was and could be again, in all of its beautiful splendor.

—–

Gabby Park is a pastime photographer who loves to look at the art of others.